Slave Trade - What's to Come
Slave Trade What Is to Come copyright 2012 comidacomida
Sidney sat off to the side, caught up in his own thoughts as Dorias finished cooking a stew for the assembled slaves. Although the fox had wished to be alone with his thoughts, there was little he could do to convince Maern to spend his time with the others; the stallion remained at his side throughout dinner preparation.
The yak announced the completion of dinner, and began dishing up wooden bowls with healthy serving sizes; it was a far greater ration than Sidney had ever seen being handed out to slaves but, considering the supplies Lord Hector had given them, it only made sense that they were able to eat well. Idly, the fox recalled something he'd once heard about slave being fed based on the physical nature of their job. His stomach soured when he considered how physical 'fighting for your life' would be.
"Move your ass, you oaf." Choel announced, giving Uraou a shove, "I'm still healing."
"Yea?" the bear glanced back at him as Dorias handed him a bowl, "Well that means fighing ova' who gets fed first won't be that hard, now will it, mate?"
Sidney felt his heart begin to pick up pace; he'd heard of the more physical slaves fighting over food before and he was well-aware that he would have no luck breaking up the fight. A moment later they both broke out into laughter, and Uraou handed the bowl to the tiger.
"Not like you need to eat first anyway, you fat-bellied Lord-Bait." Choel chided.
"Yea?" Uraur accepted another bowl from Dorias, not even bothering to look at the yak, "That's true... it's more useful for shutting up a tiga' I know that complains more than a Laranian schola' asked to travel three blocks on foot."
"Um..." Sidney spoke up before Choel could continue the banter. All eyes in the stable were on the fox immediately.
"'es the Slave Master..." Dorias reminded the two, "Which means 'e eats first." The bear and the tiger remained watching the fox.
"No... I... I mean..." Sidney wrung his tail in his paws at the attention, "You can eat first, but you have to be... um... polite about it."
The bear and tiger glanced at one another before Choel looked back at the fox, "You mean... like... with spoons and stuff?"
"Uh..." Sidney's ears went up at the question, "Well... no... I don't think we have spoons... I mean, you need to have table-manners."
"He doesn't want you flapping ya gums, mate." Uraou clarified.
"Then you'd better stop wagging your muzzle." Choel countered.
"Wagging my muzzle? I'D have YOU wagging YA muzzle if I pulled off my loinclo--"
"Is..." Sidney began, his voice faltering before he stated again, louder, "Is that a no?" he interrupted the two. The two slaves sat down facing one another, each smirking to themselves and one another as they ate their dinner; the humor, apparently, was lost on the fox. Despite Sidney's discomfort and unease, his stomach grumbled faintly as the scent of the stew drifted to him on the night's breeze that seeped through the cracks in the stable's walls. The sound was not missed by Maern.
Without a word, the stallion stood, then made his way over to the cauldron where Dorias continued to tend the stew. The two exchanged several words in Vensian, and the yak handed the horse two bowls. Returning, Maern set one of the bowls beside Sidney, and sat down facing him, his own bowl in his lap. The fox stared up at Maern, who stared right back until Sidney's eyes slowly migrated toward the soup in the large horse's grasp, "Aren't you going to eat?" he asked the stallion.
"Eat." Maern parotted.
"Yea... eat." Sidney acknowledged pointing to the stew, and then to his muzzle, "Eat."
The horse nodded, and pointed to Sidney's stew, "Eat."
Sidney opened his muzzle to respond, but it snapped shut when he heard a murmur and some faint snickering from the other side of the stables. Glancing that direction, the fox saw the other slaves quickly focus back on their own stew. Feeling his ears redden, the fox withdrew his attention to himself, and began to eat; he didn't miss the fact that Maern did the same... but only after Sidney started first.
Although the fox had only one serving, there was more than enough for everyone to have several bowls, and the others made the most out of the opportunity. Uraou and Choel each drew a piece of straw and, upon the tiger finding out he had the shorter piece, began grumbling and complaining about injured shoulders as he dragged the cauldron outside to be cleaned; it was enough to get a faint smile from Sidney. Despite the distractions of the evening, however, the dark cloud of concern was ever-present.
Just after dark, as Sidney was seeing to everyone's sleeping arrangements, he realized that he would be expected in very little time; Lord Hector had given him an order, and the fox had every intention of following it, regardless of how much he had come to fear the work shed. Delaying as much as he dared, Sidney reminded himself that his master had told him to see the slaves under his care settled before he go to the shed, and the fox decided to do just that.
Uraou was bunching up a fresh pile of hay when Sidney joined him in his stall. The bear casually but obediently stood up from his task as the fox entered, "Aye, Slave Masta'?" he inquired with far less respect than Sidney would have expected from a slave to Slave Master, but far more than he had expected for himself.
"I'm... uh... making sure everyone is ready for bed." the fox responded.
"Aye, Slave Masta'... been getting myself ready for bed for quite awhile now... pretty good at it too." the bear stated simply.
"Uh... oh..." Sidney fidgeted, "Okay then..."
Uraou raised a thick eyebrow, "You're not so good at jokes, are you, Slave Masta'?"
"I... uh..." the fox paused, "Most jokes I've ever heard are about questions with... um... silly answers..."
The bear let out a deep sigh and rolled his eyes before closing them, "I'm ready for bed, Slave Maste'." he announced formally.
"Alright... thank you, Uraou..." Sidney acknowledged, "I'll see you in the morning."
"Aye, Slave Masta'... in the morning." and the fox let the bear's affirmation end things there; he continued on to check in on Choel, who was in his stall being tended to by Dorias.
"How are his shoulders, Dorias?" the fox asked as the yak looked up from his work.
"Th' 'ealin's goin' well..." Dorias acknowledged, "but it'll be a few weeks until 'e should be fightin'."
"Lord Hector wants us to be gladiators." Choel objected with a scowl, "How am I supposed to do that if I can't fight?"
"That'd be fer th' Slave Master t'decide, Choel." Dorias answered, running both of his enormous hands across one of the tiger's shoulders, eliciting a grunt from his patient, "But if ye start doin' more'n ye can handle, it'll take even longer t'heal."
Sidney used the time they spent in interaction to consider the options, "Can he still do that... uh... practice stuff... the stuff with others?"
"Practice stuff with others?" Choel repeated the comment, "You mean, 'sparring'?"
"Yes..." Sidney acknowledged, feeling his ears redded, "That."
"Aye, Sidney..." Dorias nodded thoughtfully, "assumin' 'e does it slow an' easy."
"Practice isn't supposed to be 'slow and easy', Dorias." the tiger objected, "The only thing I'd do 'slow and easy' is your mothe--" but Choel's words were choked off as the yak squeezed a little bit harder on his shoulder.
Dorias spoke calmly once the tiger fell silent, "Sidney asked if you could 'practice an' stuff', an' I said aye... but ye gotta do it slow an' easy."
Feeling even more ill-at-ease, Sidney said a quick goodnight to both of the slaves, and went to the last stall to make certain that Maern was settled for the night; he was not. Sidney stood by the opening to stallion's quarters; rather than use the large clump of hay for bedding, Maern had pushed it evenly out of the center of the room, creating open ground where he stood in the same stance he had used when Sidney saw him fight in the combat circle. As the fox observed, Maern went through several shifts of his weight, muscles bunching and churning beneath his hide with every motion; Sidney found the slow, purposeful movements mesmerizing.
"Sid-ney?" the horse's deep baritone rumbled the fox back to attention. Sydney snapped out of his zoning and saw that Maern was facing him, neutral expression, as usual, completely unreadable.
"I..." the fox paused, almost offering up any number of greetings, excuses, and comments before he reminded himself that the stallion wouldn't understand him anyway, "I... see you're not ready for bed." he motioned to the hay pushed up against the stall walls.
"Sid-ney good?" the stallion asked casually.
"Well.. um... yes... but..."
"Good." Maern acknowledged, and settled back into the even stance he used for his movements.
"Maern." Sidney called for the stallion's attention, which he got immediately. The fox pointed around at the hay, "You need to get ready for bed."
"Bed..." the horse repeated the word, his ears focused on Sidney.
"Come." the fox announced, motioning for Maern to follow, which he did. Sidney brought the stallion to the next stall, which was his own, where he pointed out the pile of straw. "Bed." he noted.
"...bed." Maern acknowledged.
"Good." Sidney confirmed, then made the return trip to the horse's stall and pointed around at the hay, "Bed." he announced in what he hoped was enough of a hint for Maern to figure out what he wanted; it was. A handful of seconds later, Maern had a serviceable pile of hay situated off in the corner. "Good." Sidney nodded, "Thank you, Maern."
"Well-come." the stallion answered, and then sat down on the hay.
"Alright..." Sidney said, more to himself than Maern, "Okay..." and he turned to leave... then paused when he heard the rustling of hay behind him. Looking back to the stallion, the fox saw that he was standing again, "No... no Maern... stay." he pointed to the pile of straw. "I have to go, but you need to stay." he pointed again at the hay.
Maern glanced at the straw, then back to Sidney, "Bed."
"Yes, Maern... YOU," he pointed at the horse, "stay on the BED." he pointed to the hay, and he turned to leave.
"Sid-ney?"
The fox about-faced once more to look at Maern, wondering how much harder it would be to convey what he was trying to say, "Yes, Maern?"
The stallion sat back down on the hay, "Goot niet."
"Good night." Sidney confirmed with relief, and showed himself out of the stables, leaving the slaves to their rest; his night was only beginning.
* * * * * *
It was a warm night, with the faintest hint of a cool breeze; it was the kind of night where Sidney was able to enjoy being outdoors. Before he had made the mistake that had brought Maern onto Lord Hector's estate, the fox would have never expected to be given a reason to be outside at night so it was a rare treat. Or, rather, it WOULD have been, if not for the purpose of his walk that particular evening.
Sidney's Master had told him to settle his slaves and then meet him by the work shed. The fox knew that visiting the work shed would mean somehow involving the Sardassi. Lord hector had mentioned that he wanted Sidney's help with another slave, which was the lone saving grace of the night; the fox was able to take heart in the fact that the Sardassi was not meant for him... though that would be of little comfort for the unfortunate slave meant as its intended victim for the night.
The fox shuddered at the memory of the machine, but even more by the fact that he was excited by the same memory that he feared. Sidney had never felt so completely lost to his body's actions. As a slave, it had been his duty to always be in control-- to always do as his master commanded regardless of his body's frailties or shortcomings... but, only after he had been trapped by and 'encouraged' by the energies of the Sardassi did he really understand how powerful some of his body's urges could be.
The sound of the work shed door opening caused Sidney's thoughts to come to a halt... as did he. The silhouetted figure at the door was lithe of build but far too short to be Lord Hector. The fox didn't need more than a few seconds give a name to the owner of the rounded ears and pointed nose, "Finneas?" the fox inquired.
"Ah... Sidney... figured you'd be 'ere 'bout now." the mouse leaned against the shed wall, setting his cane down as he rubbed his bad leg, "Master's inside waitin' for yeh... an' Tharis' finishin' up some dinner before yeh get started..."
"Before... I...." the fox's ears raised for just a moment, before falling back in concern, "Is... is Tharis being punished for something?"
Finneas stared at Sidney for several seconds before he shook his head. There was something about the mouse's gaze that both concerned and embarrassed the fox at the same time. "Nah..." Finneas finally spoke up, "It's what th' Master wills." The words were all the explanation that any slave would need, and Sidney would do Lord Hector's bidding whether he knew what purpose it served or not.
"So... um..." the fox noted, taking a few steps closer to Finneas so he could keep his voice low, "What am I supposed to do?"
The mouse smiled ever-so-faintly as he picked up his cane, "Exactly what th' Master tells yeh t'do." and, with little more than a faint, farewell wave, Finneas limped off into the night leaving Sidney to his own devices. Letting out a deep breath, the fox turned toward the door and entered the work shed.
The interior was exactly as Sidney remembered it: devoid of any real distinguishing features save several simple chairs, a small table, and, of course, the Sardassi. The dimness of the windowless shed's shadowy interior was held at bay by a faint pulsing greenish-yellow light emanating from the Sardassi, but also by a simple silver candelabra situated on the table... and that is where Sidney saw his master.
Lord Hector sat off to the side with an empty silver plate in front of him, fork and knife creating a polite cultured 'x' atop it. Sidney was readily familiar with table etiquette having spent so long as Lord Bulhue's personal slave, but it had been months since the fox had seen a formal place setting; it seemed strange to him considering his surroundings. Seated across the small table from him was a slave. He was a bull... a very large bull.
Sidney remained silent as two sets of eyes settled on him. The stag's expression was not easy to place, though the fox ventured that his Master was sizing him up, likely seeking any sense of hesitance or reluctance; Sidney was dedicated to making sure he found neither. The bull was much easier to read: boredom and resignation. Considering the slave's proximity to Lord Hector and the significance of the work shed, it truly surprised to fox to see anyone so blase about the situation. At length, Sidney spoke up, "I am here, as you commanded, Master."
"Very good, Sidney." Lord Hector acknowledged, pulling the cloth napkin from his lap and folding it methodically before setting it by his plate. The stag looked across thet able to the bull, who had just stuffed the last of a hunk of bread into his muzzle; the bull gazed back, chewing. "Tharis, Sidney will be helping me tonight instead of Finneas." Lord Hector explained casually to the slave. The bull simply grunted disinterestedly and stood up.
Sidney took a moment to inspect the enormous slave. Tharis, as he was apparently called, was nearly seven foot tall, and that wasn't including his horns. The bull's fur was dark gray with streaks of light gray throughout, hinting at the slave's age. Tharis's build was much like Maern's, though it was obvious that the years had slimmed him down... but not by much. The most discerning feature of the bull, however, was the litany of scars that adorned the many parts of his body.
It was not unusual for a slave to have a share of scars-- some unruly slaves managed to earn more than others, but the majority of the few that graced Tharis' hide were far different than those Sidney would normally expect to see. "Your..." the fox murmured, then paused, surprised by his own voice, "your... scars...?"
The bull took his attention from Lord Hector for long enough to glance to Sidney and snort. The fox noticed the brass ring in the slave's nose for the first time; Sidney rarely ever saw a slave wear jewelery and then, it was only at their Master's behest. Despite Tharis' imposing size, Sidney surprised himself by being able to meet the bull's gaze without flinching. He began to mentally congratulate himself on becoming a better slave master, until he realized he understood why it was so easy to stare back at the bull; his eyes looked... "empty..." he breathed the word aloud.
"Is something wrong, Sidney?" Lord Hector inquired, seated at a chair closer to the Sardassi. The stag was peering around the bull's bulk to look at the fox.
"No Master." Sidney acknowledged immediately, "I... I've just never seen a slave like this one." the fox admitted honestly. He hoped he hadn't blanked out on something his Master had been saying.
"That's quite alright, Sidney..." Lord Hector responded, "I wouldn't have expected you to have encountered a gladiator before." Sidney's ears went up at the identification of the bull, and it was an expression of surprise and interest that the stag did not miss, "As one of my Slave Masters, I expect you to become familiar with identifying slaves." the stag motioned to a spot on the floor closer to himself.
"Yes, Master." Sidney accepted Lord Hector's expectation as law. The fox obediently moved to the spot indicated on the floor, knowing well enough that his Master didn't wish to keep peering around the bull to see him.
"Do you know how you can tell Tharis was a gladiator, Sidney?" the stag questioned. Although the fox's full attention was on his Master, he couldn't help but notice a faint tik from the left side of the bull's muzzle and the slightest twitch to his eye; something about the question affected Tharis in a way neither Lord Hector nor the Sardassi did.
The answer was an easy one for Sidney, "Because you said he was, Master."
Lord Hector's smile was one of humor rather than being pleased at a correct answer, "And how would you know if I hadn't told you, Sidney?"
"I do not know, Master." the fox hated being unable to answer the question.
The stag didn't seem to mind in the least, and calmly directed him, "Look at Tharis, and tell me what identifying features he has."
"He's old..." the fox offered, and took an involuntary step back when Tharis let out an indignant snort. Lord Hector began laughing immediately. Sidney looked between his Master and the bull, who was again impassive; the fox felt his tail begin to tuck, "Did... I...." he swallowed, "was... that...?"
"Unlike most slaves, gladiators aren't used to 'old' being a compliment, Sidney." the stag explained, and Lord Hector looked to the bull, "That was not an insult, Tharis... he meant to say you look like a veteran." The gray-furred slave did not reply, and the stag looked back to Sidney, "What else?"
The fox looked Tharis up and down, finally settling on the most prominent feature he'd noticed when he first came in, "He is VERY big."
Lord Hector nodded apprasingly at that, "True, Sidney... but many field slaves are also quite large." the stag cocked his head at a slight angle, eyes still on the fox, "What about other features? What do you notice about Tharis that you might not have seen before?"
With few other options, Sidney chose the feature he hated considering the most, "He has scars, Master... lots of scars."
"Plenty of slaves earn scars, Sidney." the comment, the fox could tell, was not a 'no', rather, it was a subtle way for his Master to tell him to elaborate.
"His scars are not like the kinds I've see on field slaves." Sidney answered, finally beginning to understand what Lord Hector said about putting all of the visual information together to understand a slave, "They were not made by a whip, or a Snap-Lash, or a flail... they are thin scars." he took a step toward Tharis and peered closer; the bull seemed to take no notice of him. "A lot of them look like they were probably treated by healers."
Lord Hector acknowledged, "Tharis was a pit fighter... most of his wounds were from bladed weapons, and, yes; Tharis' wounds were treated by healers dedicated to keeping Gladiators in prime condition." The stag smiled approvingly, "Very good, Sidney."
"Thank you, Master." the fox bowed his head, but, remembering himself, quickly looked up toward Lord Hector.
"What else?" the stag questioned.
Though not entirely unprepared for it, the fox paused before answering his Master as he considered the last detail, "He has a ring in his nose, Master."
"And what about a nose ring is so strange, Sidney?" Lord Hector sat forward in his chair, eying the fox intently.
"Very few slaves wear jewelery, Master." the fox answered immediately, voicing the thoughts he'd already had about it.
"What kinds of slaves are most often told to wear jewelery, Sidney?" the stag continued pressing the discussion.
The fox took a moment to think, one ear folding down as he searched his memory for few times he had ever been told to wear such livery, and he could only think of one, "I only ever wore metal when my owner before you wanted to show me off... he said it made me look better."
"And have you ever seen other slaves wear jewelery, Sidney?" Lord Hector asked patiently.
"No, Master." the fox admitted.
The stag nodded in agreement, "So... based on the fact that Tharis is too large to be a good house slave, and jewelery is most often used for presentation, what other kinds of slave could he be?"
Sidney reviewed the different kinds of slaves with which he was familiar, and came up with only a single option, "He could be a breeding slave, Master." the fox proposed, "They have to look good if they are going to be hired out?"
"...and if you were to use this information to create a profile for Tharis?" Lord Hector motioned to the bull, who obediently moved to stand beside Sidney.
The fox glanced up at the bull, who continued staring straight ahead. Sidney looked back to his Master, "Tharis WAS a Gladiator, but he is now in your care as a breeding slave?" it was a jump to connect everything, but, considering Lord Hector's record of saving slaves such as himself, the thought that the stag brought the bull out of the pits made sense; the fact that Lord Hector hadn't pressed Sidney for anything past 'breeding slave' gave the fox additional confidence that he was close to correct, if not completely correct.
"Very good, Sidney." Lord Hector nodded, "I am pleased that my faith in you was not unwarranted." the stag nodded slightly, then looked to the bull, "Tharis... we are now ready to begin." he announced simply.
The bull did not acknowledge the order other than to reach down and undo the knot holding his waist-wrap in position. Tharis let it fall to the ground and Sidney fought to keep his muzzle closed; the bull was proportionally as large there as much as elsewhere. Sidney could do nothing but stare as the slave moved obediently to stand before the stone slab. Despite his attention taken up by Tharis' fist-sized testicles, the fox did not miss the fact that the glowing runes on the device grew slightly brigher with the bull standing in front of it.
"Sidney..." Lord Hector called Sidney's attention to him, "...can you tell me where Tharis is from?"
"Diermyna or Meisenyl, Master." Sidney gave the answer before he even realized that he knew it, but then he elaborated for himself as much as his Master, "He walks on hooves, which means he is from Diermyna, Meisenyl, or Vensii... but, once his loincloth is off--" the fox coughed, feeling his ears turn red as he glanced at the bull's wrist-thick sheath, "it's obvious he isn't from Vensii."
"And, if I were to tell you that there are no bovine families from Diermyna...?" the stag continued leading Sidney through the chain of questions.
"He is from Meisenyl, Master..." the fox stated immediately, "...like Finneas and Dorias."
Lord Hector's ears went up in curiosity as he looked from the bull to the fox, "And how do you know they are from Meisenyl, Sidney?"
The fox swallowed against the moment of fear he felt at volunteering information he had THOUGHT to be correct. In that moment of panic he began to spout out everything he knew about each, their accent, and what family histories they had told him. He continued with every last detail he could manage until his Master held up a hand.
"Enough, Sidney." Lord Hector announced, "You are correct, on all counts, of course..." and the stag grinned, "just remind me to never tell you any of MY secrets." Sidney felt himself blush anew. The stag's attention shifted decisively to the bull, "Tharis, say: 'You are right because I am Meisenylian.'."
"You are right because I am Meisenylian." the bull repeated the words and Sidney heard his lack of accent immediately. Sidney realized by Lord Hector's expression that the twich in his ears gave him away, and that his Master realized that he knew his error.
"Remember, Sidney," the stag noted, "When discussing slaves, it is important to identify them by their race, and not nationality. If I ask where a slave is from, I am asking their breeding, not their country of origin because, more often than not, they will be from Pross." at that, he motioned to Tharis, "Tharis, for example, was born in Pross, though, when I ask where he's from, you would need to tell me he is Meinsenylian." the stag gave the fox an appraising look, "Does that make sense?"
"Yes, Master." Sidney acknowledged immediately.
"Good." Lord Hector nodded, "Can you tell me where I am from?"
"Vensii, Master." the fox answered.
"Not 'Vensian'?" the stag questioned.
"You are from Vensii, Master-- you are not a slave." Sidney responded; the smile on his Master's face acknowledged that the fox had passed a test of some kind.
"Very good." Lord Hector affirmed. The sound of a *clank* drew Sidney's attention away from the stag and toward Tharis, who had clasped one of his arms into one of the outermost metal restraints on the Sardassi. "Excellent," Lord Hector acknowledged, "It looks as though we are ready to begin..." and, at that, Tharis put his other arm in place, eliciting another *clank* from the device.
Sidney realized that the stag had the right to speak for all of them but, as his Master placed the Sardassi's control ring into his paw, the fox couldn't help but feel that 'we' didn't include him; even though Sidney wasn't going to be the target of the Sardassi's power he was not as calm as the seemingly bored bull. All in all, the fox fairly certain that he would never be ready for what was to come.