Age of Asango: Book I

Chapter 2 - The Slave Market

My father lived in a time when ethereal gods and demons were waging a great war. He was caught between both sides, and in this he was not alone. The invisible threads of destiny over many were being manipulated as each force moved and concealed its pieces from one another in a complex game of strategy to decide the fate of the world. It is perhaps for this reason that some of the most important people in our history were found in the most unexpected places.

---Lilliana Asango

Iona stood near the center of the slave cage, her bare toes clutching at the dirty straw beneath her feet. She was frightened, and yet utterly fascinated by the cacophony of sounds in the marketplace around her—people with different shades of skin speaking in different languages to one another. The wonderful smells of fresh baked bread and freshly cooked meats of an enormous variety made her tiny nostrils flare and her stomach churn with hunger. Iona had never been to a large city before. There were people and buildings and market stands in every direction. Some stopped to look at her and the other slaves through the bars while others passed by without even a glance. They went about all manner of business.

Iona's heart was fluttering in wonder of who in this great city would buy her. Most likely Iona would be sold to a well-to-do family and she would need to learn to speak, dress, and act like a city slave. She was an excellent age for such things. Iona did not know her exact age of course. Few slaves did. The slave master had guessed her to be ten or eleven, and this seemed a fairly safe estimate based on what she remembered.

"Don't smile, girl," a thin, wrinkled man in stained, tattered, ash-colored rags said from her left. She turned and looked into his nervous eyes. "If you smile they'll think you have too much... personality. Gaze down and look obedient."

"Yes," said short man to her right who was also dressed in rags. "You aren't going to be somebody's daughter. Don't look anyone in the eyes unless told to do so."

"I-it's just that I've never seen a big city before," Iona said nervously. She took a few slow, clinking steps toward the cage bars. Walking was extremely difficult at the moment, as her legs had been shackled together.

"Gods, get away from the bars!" the first slave said. "The buyers are already starting to look at us."

Iona saw a tall, broad shouldered man in black robes with thick golden rings on his fingers looking her over from head to foot. "Hey, girl," he said, his dark, serious eyes gazing into hers, "have you been trained as a cook?"

Iona started to answer but the slave master—an enormously fat man with a thick black mustache and chin beard—moved from around the great cage and said: "This girl is a trained cook and she can do laundry as well. You will never find another wrinkle in your clothes again if you buy her!" He reached out and pinched the man's tunic and pulled at a large crease between his thumb and forefinger and grunted: "I think you could use a good laundry slave." He let out a deep-throated laugh.

The thin slave to Iona's right sat up on his knees. "If it please you, master, I was considered to be one of the finest chefs in Aloria." He spoke with enthusiasm though his eyes remained downcast.

"They have slaves in Aloria?" the tall man said, casting a suspicious frown.

"Not as you do here, master. A man can only be a slave for ten years at a time in Aloria and then he is granted his freedom by law." The thin fellow smiled down at the cage floor. "I was taken as a slave when my city was conquered and I was but five. I gained my freedom at fifteen and sold myself for another ten years to serve as a cook in the palace."