Across the Midnight Sea

Chapter 42 : Bought and Sold

This is a long one and has both Imre and Adira. I hope you enjoy.

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First light of dawn filtered through the small window and Smithers touched Imre's shoulder gently.

Imre's hand shot out trying to bat Smithers away. The older man clearly saw it coming and caught his wrist mid air in a firm grasp.

"It's alright boy," Smithers low and calm voice did nothing to slow Imre's pounding heart.

After two full nights on the run and sporadic sleep at best, the soft bed and relative safety felt almost surreal.

"We need to get you ready."

Ready.

Ready to be sold.

The muscles in Imre's stomach clenched.

While he had been bought and sold several times in his life, only once had been in the market.

For the first four years after the Tamerian's invaded he had been kept in the governor's house, a prisoner, not asked to work, and not allowed to leave.

Then the governor died, and was replaced with a new, younger ruler who didn't care about Imre's name and he was sent to the market to be sold.

He remembered her screaming his name as they took him away.

It had been ten years since that fateful day.

Ten years since he had stood, a scrawny soft boy barely in his twelfth year of life, on a box to be examined and poked and prodded until he was bought by an overweight woman who needed a kitchen boy.

Looking back, it was a mercy that she had been his true owner.

"Can you stand?" Smithers' words interrupted the painful memories.

Imre nodded, even though he wasn't sure of the answer.

Pushing the covers out of the way, he winced at the pain in his ribs.

He staggered a little before straightening.

"Good," Smithers face was grim.

He brought up scissors and cut Imre's hair with quick practiced movements. It was common for sailors to keep shorter hair after all and as Imre watched his golden locks falls to the floor he wondered how many time Smithers had done this for someone else.

"Have you helped a Shaynari before?" he asked.

The scissors stilled.

"Yes," Smithers answered and went back to cutting.

Imre did not ask him to elaborate.

When the older man was finished with the cut he set the scissors aside.

"Do you want the brand taken care of first or the nose?" Smithers asked. "Best get both done before we put anything on that stomach of yours. No point wasting food if it comes back up."

"The arm," Imre answered without hesitation. He hated looking down and seeing Verrik's mark on his skin. The sooner it was destroyed the better.

"Bite down on this," Smithers handed Imre a piece of worn leather and went to the fire where a blade was already glowing red.

Imre knew it was going to hurt.

He didn't care, it was worth the pain.

Putting the leather piece in his mouth Imre braced himself and  bit down hard.