Alexander scanned the room and saw Kalderson. Without drawing attention, he shuffled over to the captain, trying not to trip in his oversized boots, and sat down next to him.
Kalderson started to say something, but caught himself and nodded to Alexander.
“Just keep your head down and be ready,” Alexander whispered, tearing off a bit of mold from his bread.
“No talking!” one of the overseers shouted from across the room.
Alexander didn’t look up, instead focusing on his meager meal. It was bland and not nearly enough but it was better than nothing. He hoped Anja hadn’t lost her temper, but he suspected that he would have heard something if she had.
After their meal, they were led down a corridor lined with locked doors until they reached one that stood open. Inside was a large room with barred windows across the top of the back wall. Hay was piled a foot deep along the sides of the room and there was an overseer standing by a stack of threadbare blankets beside the door.
“Take one and move along,” he said, as if those were the only words in his vocabulary.
Alexander found a spot and sat down next to Kalderson, motioning for him to remain quiet. The overseer stood at the door until the room was full, then closed it and locked them in for the night.
“What are we going to do?” Kalderson whispered in the dark.
“Try to keep your men together,” Alexander said. “It may take some time to figure this place out, but when I do, I want you to be ready to move.”
Kalderson nodded reluctantly.
Alexander lay down, wrapping his blanket around himself. He fell asleep to the sounds of grown men crying quietly in the dark.
***
After a thoroughly unsatisfying breakfast of mush and water, the overseers led the new slaves into the yard, ordering them to line up in orderly fashion. Alexander caught a glimpse of Anja and tried to reassure her with a smile but she just glowered at him.
A number of well-dressed men sat at a table on the raised platform along one end of the yard. Alexander recognized only the one known as the Babachenko. He was wearing the same austere grey uniform he’d worn the day before. The men were eating a leisurely breakfast. Bacon, sausage, eggs, ham, biscuits, potatoes and juice all served on fine silver and crystal. Slaves attended to these men’s every need. None of them were bashful about eating their fill, seeming to relish the meal while the slaves assembled before them could hear the rumblings from their own stomachs.
Even after all the slaves had been lined up and stood waiting while dozens of overseers walked among them, the men at the table continued their meal and lighthearted conversation. The few slaves who muttered obscenities under their breath were beaten to their knees and left where they lay. Alexander watched fear and rage ripple through the colors of the men around him while he struggled to school his own indignation. He caught Anja’s eye again and slowly shook his head. She looked away, her colors rippling with emotion.
Finally, the Babachenko stood and strolled casually to the edge of the platform, appraising the slaves.
“It is my privilege to introduce to you three of the most distinguished servants of the Andalian Empire. Each of these men has contributed in immeasurable ways to the prosperity enjoyed by every subject of the crown. Their sacrifices are matched only by their loyalty to our people and the Andalian way of life.
“Through these men, you will contribute to our collective prosperity, fulfilling the basic needs of each and every subject, and in so doing, ensuring that all of your needs are met as well.
“I give you Lord Alden Kendrick, holder of the Andalian Shipwright Charter; Lord Nigel Mohan, holder of the Andalian Cartage Charter; and Lord Titus Grant, holder of the Andalian Mining Charter.” Each man rose in turn, smiling graciously and bowing slightly. The colors of the first two were about what Alexander expected, muddy and dark. Then the third man stood-he had no colors at all.
Alexander’s mind raced at the implications.
“Before we begin,” the Babachenko continued, “I would like to share with you a piece of profound wisdom spoken to me this very morning by His Most Excellent Majesty, the King of Andalia. He called me close to him so that he could whisper this eternal secret to me-a secret that I will share with you now. He said: Always remember, service is prosperity.
“I share this gift of divine wisdom with you today in the sincere hope that you will think on it often and endeavor to embody the spirit of selfless service exemplified by our humble king.”
The rest of the men at the table rose, applauding the Babachenko’s speech. Alexander could see from their colors that they were entirely disingenuous, but they did put on a good show.
The Babachenko walked the three nobles down the rows of slaves, while the rest of the men at the table prepared to receive their masters’ new acquisitions. They took their time inspecting each slave, asking questions and putting their hands on them as if they were livestock. Sometimes they bickered over price with the Babachenko, bidding between them until one of them won, which was usually followed by the other two suggesting that he’d paid too high a price.
After each purchase, the Babachenko made a note in his leather-bound book and an overseer directed the slave to the correct holding area. The few who were not purchased were directed to return to the slave quarters.
Alexander listened to the nobles and the Babachenko chatting when they got close enough.
“So I hear you lost another shipment of silver, Nigel,” Titus Grant said, with a gleam of mischief in his eye.
Nigel Mohan spat in the dirt. “Two days ago. That blasted Nightshade is costing me a fortune.”
“Let’s not forget, that shipment was wages for my shipwrights,” Alden Kendrick said. “They’ve threatened to strike if I can’t make payroll this month.”
“Can’t say I blame them,” Grant said. “After all, nobody likes working for free.”
Kendrick scowled at him before turning his attention to another slave and looking at his roster. “Says you’re a sailor.”
“Yes sir,” one of Kalderson’s men answered.
“I’ll take him.” Then turning to the Babachenko, he said, “Surely, you can do something to stop Nightshade from disrupting the flow of commerce. The king ordered those ships built and I won’t be able to make delivery at this rate … unless you could persuade the Shipwrights Guild to keep working without pay, just until I can arrange another shipment of silver, of course.”
“Now, Lord Kendrick, you know as well as I do that the rights of guild members must be protected,” the Babachenko said. “However, I agree that bandit raids on the Cartage Company’s shipments are becoming a problem.”
“Come now, Babachenko, you know full well that this isn’t the work of ordinary bandits,” Mohan said.
The Babachenko shook his head slowly, considering the man’s words carefully. “I’m still not convinced that this Nightshade even exists,” he said, holding up his hands to forestall protest. “It seems more likely that he’s a fabrication of the bandits plaguing our lands, a persona they’ve created to give us a ghost to chase.”
“Ghosts don’t haul off chests full of silver,” Mohan said. “Besides, he left a nightshade blossom, just like before, and he disappeared with my silver in the middle of the night without even being noticed by my guards. Ordinary bandits attack outright.”
“The man has a point,” Grant said, smiling ever so slightly.
“Don’t be so smug, Titus,” Kendrick said. “Just because you already got paid for that silver, doesn’t mean Nightshade isn’t a threat to your interests as well.”
Grant shrugged innocently. “What can I say? Whoever’s doing this seems to prefer coinage to raw ore. I guess I’m just fortunate to be the holder of the mining charter.”