The following morning, Ilika gave the common room a glance before entering, then arranged for a lunch he could carry with him.
He again used the door to the alley, slipped through the crowded marketplace, and made his way along the dirt streets of Rumble Town toward the Traveler’s Gate. After crossing Market Way, he easily found the street that led directly to the slave market.
The day was still young and cool as the audience began to gather. Ilika of Satamia, with more than a little shame, found a box to sit on near the back where he could see and hear everything of importance, but not be seen from either entrance.
His heart went out to every person who stepped onto that block, especially the old, the women, and the children. Tears threatened to come, but instead he made himself look at each and every one of the slaves, look into their eyes, into their very souls if possible.
An old man, good with horses, said the auctioneer, went for a few silver pieces. Ilika whispered farewell.
A girl of about eight years who walked with a limp brought only one silver piece. He looked at her intently, but saw only dullness in her eyes.
A strong-looking lad of sixteen stepped onto the block, but he twitched
from some disease. Still, he was purchased for two small gold pieces, and Ilika overheard talk of putting him to work in a mine.
A woman of about twenty received whistles and cat calls. She was, at first glance, very attractive. Then Ilika looked into her eyes and saw hatred from many years of abuse. He had to close his eyes until she was gone, bringing an entire great gold piece for her future services.
After several more slaves came and went, a freckled lad, twelve or thirteen, stepped onto the block. He stood calmly, confidently, with almost a smile.
His eyes gleamed as he slowly scanned the audience, ignoring the auction process itself. The auctioneer said he had a tendency to daydream and didn’t respond to punishment, but got lots of work done, and never ran off.
Ilika could barely stop himself from jumping up and making a bid. There, before his eyes, stood the sort of person he wanted and had not been able to find anywhere else in the city.
Ilika ate his lunch slowly and stayed until late afternoon, learning all he could about the people who had fallen into slavery, and the customs of the slave market.
Every type of unfortunate person he could imagine was paraded before his eyes that day. If their reason for being unable to live in free society was physical, it was usually obvious. If psychological, it was sometimes obvious in their behavior on the block. At other times Ilika saw hints in their eyes or their posture, but couldn’t be sure. But often the brief display did not reveal anything that justified captivity and forced labor.
During the afternoon, two more slaves caught his attention, both showing a bit of the same otherworldly detachment, and a certain rebelliousness.
Again, he waited.
As the slave market prepared to close with the approach of dinnertime, Ilika strode along Market Way with a determined look on his face.
After a hearty breakfast the next morning and another walk through the streets of Rumble Town, Ilika entered the slave market again. He explained to three different guards that he had a profitable business deal to discuss with the slave master, and only the slave master. The last guard grumbled and
showed him to a waiting room.
Comfortable furniture and brass fixtures reminded Ilika of the upper-class inn near the palace. He heard muffled voices from the inner chamber, sometimes talking calmly, at other times yelling.
Suddenly the door burst open, and the visitor backed out saying, “I will do my best to get what you want at that price . . .”
“Succeed or do not return!” an aggressive voice responded from within.
Ilika stepped into the office and quietly seated himself in a chair facing the massive wooden desk.
The slave master, a large burly man with little hair, continued to look at some papers. “Profit is down, people just aren’t bidding like they used to.”
“Profit . . . is something I can provide,” Ilika said softly but clearly.
“Speak.”
“You have a certain type of slave that doesn’t generate much interest, but I have a use for several of them. They are fairly young, say . . . twelve to twenty.
They might be smart, but not in ways that fit into orders or guilds, and maybe so smart they tend to get into trouble. They are often spindly and not strong workers. Perhaps they are daydreamers, and not easy to discipline. Do you know the sort I mean?”
“I certainly do. Hardly worth taking up auction time.”
“I did not buy one such slave who was for sale yesterday morning, at about the eleventh hour, because I could not tell enough about him on the block. I need to test and interview as many as possible to find the ones I want, so I am coming to you as a middleman. You know where they have gone if they have been on your block in recent months. I am prepared to pay all your expenses to gather as many of this sort as you can. I will pay their owners for a day of their time, and then I will give their owners, and you, a handsome profit for the ones I select.”
The slave master rubbed his chin. “Rounding them up will be time-consuming. I will have to send agents to many different farms and shops. There will be travel time and expenses. Let’s say . . . a great silver for each one you test, and a small silver for each of the slave’s time.”
Ilika took a slow breath. “I can handle that. About how many do you think you can gather?”
“Mmm . . . twenty-five. No, thirty. And I’ll need a week to do it. How many are you buying?”
“As long as you can find me ones like the lad who was sold yesterday, I’ll be buying at least five, maybe more.”
The slave master shuffled through some papers, found the one he wanted and studied it. “About the eleventh hour? Okay, I see who you are talking about. How much profit can I promise the present owners?”
“I think a small gold over what they paid should motivate most people.”
“True for boys. Girls may take two,” the slave master said, making solid eye contact for the first time.
Ilika held the eye contact. “As long as they fit my description.”
“And
what
about
my profit, beyond expenses?”
After a pause, the younger man said, “You tell me.”
The slave master rubbed his chin again, but did not break eye contact.
“Two small gold for boys, three for girls.”
Ilika let a long moment pass while looking at the slave master. “Done.”
“I will need my expenses in advance.”
Ilika nodded. “I will have thirty great silver pieces in your possession by the end of today. At what hour should I return?”
“Come at dinner and share my table.”
Keeping a friendly smile on his face, instead of his true feelings, Ilika shook the slave master’s hand and departed.
After agreeing to give a huge amount of money to one of the most evil men in the kingdom, Ilika arrived back at the inn shaking like a leaf. He ate a good lunch, arranged for a bath, closed his window, and curled up for a nap.
By late afternoon, Ilika of Satamia stood tall again with fresh clothes and a great gold piece in his pouch. After visiting the money changer, he left the marketplace as shadows began to consume the streets. The evening was warm, and people everywhere were ceasing work and turning to food and drink.
About half-way to his destination, Ilika noticed two men talking in slurred voices outside a lower-class eatery. He started to touch his money pouch, much heavier than usual, but stopped himself. As he approached, their words
nearly chilled his blood.
“Wheres we gonna git some money fer dinners, huh?”
“Du’nasks me, I ain’t got none!”
“Maybes we could borrows it from somebodies . . .”
Ilika’s heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to breathe slowly.
“Hey, there’s somebody who’s got plenty o’money!” one of the men said, pointing at the young man in blue tunic and pants.
“Yeah, look at them pretty clothes!”
Ilika kept walking but focused all his attention on the two men, seeing how slow and clumsy they were in their drunken state. One of them began making fists. Just a few paces away, Ilika quickly veered to the left and strode right into the eatery.
“Come on in if you want to eat!” Ilika called over his shoulder.
It took the confused men several moments to get inside. By then, Ilika had placed a small silver piece in the owner’s hand and pointed out the two men, just coming in the door.
“Hey, boys, it’s your lucky day!” the owner called to them. “Meat and wine for dinner, and dessert too!”
They turned to each other, trying to understand what had happened. “Did you hit him? I didn’t hit him . . .”
“Enjoy your meal, fellows,” Ilika said as he passed them, returned to the street, and continued his journey.
“The slave master is expecting me for dinner.”
“We know. Straight down the hallway.”
The guards did not see the cringe of utter shame that crossed Ilika’s face.
The slave master’s dinner table could easily seat a dozen people. Ceramic plates and silver utensils were set, candles lit, and five men were already sipping wine and talking. Ilika seated himself at an empty place to one side.
As soon as the slave master entered, he caught Ilika’s eye, pointed to a seat beside him at the head of the table, and drained a glass of wine.
“These are my regulars, most of them work for me,” the master said as soon as Ilika sat down. “You and I have business to do.”
Ilika took the thirty large silver pieces from his pouch and set them on the
table.
The slave master laughed. “Three small gold would have been easier to carry.” He scooped up the coins and handed them to one of his employees.
“Thieves can spot a bulging pouch a mile away.”
Ilika smiled with embarrassment, but said nothing.
The master began to fill his plate from the serving dishes coming out of the kitchen. “I am going to search the land to find just what you want. I have already sent out two agents, and will have reports in three or four days. Let us meet again at that time to finalize plans. I’m sure I can have them all here by evening, six days from now, so they will be yours on the seventh day. Where and when do you want them delivered?”
After reluctantly taking a small piece of some roasted bird he couldn’t name, Ilika discovered a bowl of cooked vegetables no one else seemed to want. “I will rent a space and tell you when I return. I need them very early, and will feed them all day long. Can you provide three guards?”
“They will cost a silver piece each.”
“No problem. The daydreaming lad who was sold yesterday — he is your model. I want the ones who don’t seem to be . . . quite part of this world.”
The slave master laughed and took another bite of red meat. “I already have that lad, and two others like him who were handy. Whatever do you want them for?”
Ilika spread soft cheese on a chunk of bread. “To go on a long journey, and possibly never return.”
The slave master made a rude noise and began talking with his employees about the trading and profits of the day.
For the rest of the evening, Ilika sipped his wine carefully as he listened to the conversations around him, learning more about slave traders and their business. Eventually a custard with fruit sauce was served. He bid his host good-night after that, as the other men were starting to light pipes and cigars.
Deep Learning Notes
A map shows the entire north end of the city, including the slave market and
the nearby streets that Ilika used.
What can we learn, or at least estimate, about a person by looking at them?
What qualities show in a person’s face? In their eyes? In the way they stand or walk?
What qualities did Ilika see in the twelve- or thirteen-year-old freckled lad?
Why would Ilika think that “detachment” was an “otherworldly” quality?
Ilika was able to suppress his strong feelings of dislike, dread, and shame in order to make a business deal with the slave master. What does this tell us about Ilika?
When confronted by the drunken thieves, most people would flee or fight.
What does Ilika do instead?
What did Ilika learn from the slave master about carrying money?