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"Another top quality slave, ladies and gentlemen. Strong fighter. Healthy.
Biddable. Suited to be a bodyguard or bath-house attendant."
A lackluster bidding began, not enough to satisfy the man's greed. He ripped open Ramil's shirt
and slapped his well-muscled torso as if he were no more than a side of meat.
"Come, ladies, we can't waste this young man in the mines. Think what a pleasure it will be to
have this lad carry your fan for you when you go visiting.
You'll be the envy of all your friends."
The bidding picked up and Ramil was finally sold to a rich elderly woman in a dress of lurid green
silk. She giggled with her companion when Ramil was pushed before her. After ogling him
closely, she ordered him to wait behind with the other new house slaves.
Ramil made sure he was standing next to Yelena.
"I feel a fool," Yelena muttered, glaring at the velvet back of her new master.
"But what he doesn't know is that he's just bought himself a trained assassin.
He's in for a shock."
"The shock will come sooner than you think, Yelena," Ramil replied, watching the block as more of his men were sold to the mine owners and herded to
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one side. "We're going to kick up a little dust in a minute. Be ready."
Yelena's eyes narrowed. "I'm with you, brother."
The final slave to be brought out of the pen was Gordoc. An excited murmur ran through the
bidders.
"Now, ladies and gentlemen, last but not least, I present to you our greatest prize!" declared the slaver. "As strong as an ox, he'll do the work of ten men."
Gordoc stood up proudly and thumped his chest. The slaver stepped back, delighted that his
catch was playing to the audience.
"Would you like to see how strong I am?" Gordoc roared.
"Yes!" shouted back the merchants, all grinning at this unexpected display.
Slaves rarely gave such good value.
"Then I'll show you." Gordoc glanced at Ramil, who gave him a nod. Gordoc tugged the chain
that looped between his manacled wrists and collar until he had enough slack in his right hand.
He then folded it over his fist. Taking a couple of breaths he began to pull, the muscles bulging in
his arms, veins standing out in his neck as he strained. The crowd shouted encouragement and
cheered until finally the links broke and Gordoc stood there with his hands free, chain dangling
in two pieces. The merchants burst into spontaneous applause which gradually petered out as
they realized they now had a giant man standing in their midst unshackled.
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"Er . . . shall I start the bidding?" quavered the
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slaver, giving Gordoc a wary look. "Who'll give me two hundred heralds?"
At that moment, Ramil ripped off his neck ring and sprinted from behind the merchants. He
vaulted onto the block to be caught up by Gordoc and lifted onto his shoulders. The big man
steadied Ramil's legs so he stood high above everyone. The Prince swung the collar two-handed
in the air.
"Ironfist has shown that we are strong. We'd rather die than be slaves!"
With a head-cracking swoop of the collar, Ramil struck the slaver, dashing him to the ground.
Confusion erupted in all quarters as the men from Ramil's pen swung their collars with deadly
intent. Guards rushed to subdue the ringleaders only to find themselves attacked by slaves on all
sides of the market. Chains were used to throttle guards; soldiers were overwhelmed by the
weight of numbers as men threw themselves on sword arms. Those still in their pens howled
and clashed the bars. Onlookers screamed as they tried to escape the crush. Melletin and his
Brigardian recruits formed a barrier around the slave women with young children, defending
them from the stampede. The rich merchants turned to flee but found a determined-looking
slave girl standing behind them armed with a pole ripped from their canopy.
She cracked one man over the head as he lunged for her. He went down and did not get up
again.
"Stay where you are!" Yelena warned the rest, holding the pole like a staff.
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Two other house girls appeared
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at her shoulder, one carrying a hefty parasol, the other brandishing a copper pan.
A merchant barked an order to his bodyguard to force passage through, but Yelena poked the
man in the ribs with the butt of her pole.
"Are you his slave?"
The bodyguard grunted a "yes," uncertain what to do.
"Then join us, brother. It's your chance to be free."
"Kill the slave filth!" screamed the merchant, thumping his guard on the back.
Yelena pouted, keeping eye contact with the man. "That's not very handsome of him."
"If you don't do your duty, I'll have you flogged!" the merchant spat.
With a roar, the bodyguard spun and knocked his master flat out. The other merchants yelled
and scrambled to escape over the rail that had separated them from the common people, but
Yelena and her girls brought the canopy down on their heads, trapping them beneath.
Ramil had disarmed a guard with his collar and now had a sword to fight with. Hampered by
having to wield it with a loose chain and collar attached to his wrists, he still managed to defeat
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those swarming towards him. His feet slipped in the blood spilt on the cobbles but he fought on.
Injured slaves and overseers groaned on the ground; bodies lay sprawled in the dust.
Ramil fought with desperate efficiency. He knew they had to bring this phase to a close before
the regular soldiers arrived; bells were already tolling the alarm.
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His makeshift slave army would not stand a chance against a disciplined attack.
Finishing off his last assailant, Ramil shouted instructions: 'Gordoc, get some men and build
barricades across the main roads into the market.
Melletin, release the other slaves from the pens! Yelena, put the hostages in the empty cages."
"My pleasure!" she replied, rapidly organizing the slave girls who had gravitated to her during the fight.
Ramil could not help smiling when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her pinch the cheek of
her master and prod him over to the pen.
Keys were liberated from the fallen slavers and manacles undone. When the bodies had been
piled up, twenty slaves had been killed and thirteen overseers. Saying a prayer for the fallen,
Ramil wiped the sweat from his brow, knowing that they had got off lightly on this first attempt.
Now the challenge was to keep what they had gained and build upon it. The market offered little
in the way of defensive positions. The shed where the women had been housed would do for
the wounded but he couldn't afford to get boxed in. He quickly reconnoitered their situation.
Gordoc was making good progress with the barricades, piling up carts and crates across the
entrance.
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Weapons that had been in the hands of the oppressors now were distributed among the slaves.
For the slave army to survive, he would need discipline and organization.
Already he could see a broad-shouldered slave arguing with Melletin for preventing him from
killing his old master.
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"My friends!" shouted Ramil, jumping back on the block and clanging his sword against a shield.
"Listen to me! Fergox's soldiers will be here very soon and we must make preparations for our