25 - The Market

At first, it was the thought of seeing Cerise again that had me too excited to fall asleep. But that didn’t last long. I’d killed people. And I felt sick about it. Sure, I was also conflicted. They were not good people. And I hadn’t meant to kill them. I still didn’t understand these new powers I had received from the ring. I didn’t understand how I compared to others. Hitting that sand worm had done absolutely nothing. Hitting that first lizard raider had literally turned him to pulp. What did that mean? How strong were other people?

I wanted to be punished for killing. Killing should absolutely be wrong, shouldn’t it? But I also felt part of me justifying the deeds. I’d rid the world of murderers, preventing people from suffering from their future evil behaviour, and freed a slave. For hours that night, I lay on the sand against the side of my sleeping camoose, trying to reconcile these two ideas. I think I probably only drifted off shortly before dawn.

You can’t sleep with the burning sun shining in your face. Nor when your oversized pillow gets up and walks away. So I rose as well. Stiff and sore, I stretched. Then I remembered my vow to get fitter, to do better. I did some calisthenics: jumping jacks, planks, that one where you get in a pushup position and then run in place, even some hellish pushup burpees. It was challenging because I guess I was still so out of shape, or maybe starved, so much so that [Second wind] kicked in before I finished. Still, I felt better starting the day like that.

Throughout the whole exercise thing, the genie helpfully floated upside down in the air above the mimic, who now looked like a very large, rolled-up white tent. She kept me company with really motivating comments, like, “I’m bored. I’m sooooo bored. You suck at whatever it is you’re doing. Soooo boring. Wow. That’s all you can do? Six jumping pushy things? Weak. Typical sack of flesh. So weak.”

Dripping in sweat, I replied without looking as I readied for another plank. “I’m trying to become a better version of myself. I’m sorry you don’t know what that looks like.”

That silenced her. She just gave me a cold look instead.

Ok, maybe I’d been a little harsh, but she’d started it. Fair’s fair.

I ate. I drank. My body was feeling a lot better with clean water to drink. Then I mounted up on the moose-antlered camel, the camoose, with the mimic and her camoose tied up behind. It was strange to think of the treasure chest-turned tent as female, but that’s the pronoun the genie had used.

I set out for the city in the distance. Quite soon, it became apparent that it wasn’t the urban paradise it had once been.

The genie had transformed into a sand cat, which was pretty much a house cat with sand-coloured fur with a few black bands. She sat on the camoose’s head, between its horns, and frowned. “The Great City of Akka Babbyl. It’s…faded.”

It must have been a massive city at some point in the far distant past, maybe home to hundreds of thousands of people. I had no idea how to judge how many people might live in an ancient city. It looked like everything had been made of yellowish clay bricks, and none of the remaining ruins were more than one or two stories tall anymore. A fat wall had once ringed the city but was now collapsed in many places. The desert had invaded, and centuries of wind had eroded everything it touched. Imagine making a pristine sand castle at the beach, then pouring water on it so it had a melted look. That’s what Akka Babbyl looked like now.

I looked at the genie. “You know it?”

She seemed distantly saddened. “It was once the largest and most prosperous city on the continent. Every nation came here to prostrate themselves at Malagar’s feet. His army was endless. He held a magic wand to the throat of every ruler and demanded they beggar themselves in service to him. They sent nearly all their wealth and food here, ensuring none would ever have the resources to resist him. Not that they could. He wished himself so powerful that he could have destroyed nations by himself.”

“If the city was really rich, I guess lots of people moved here.”

“Experts and dreamers from all over the continent came. It was the center of development for everything: arts, magic, engineering. Once Malagar grew bored with micromanagement and turned the city over to others to manage, it flourished. Month-long festivals, gladiatorial leagues. A river ran through the city, providing it with life.” She scanned the horizon. “I see no signs of it now. If the river died, the city would have soon followed.”

I could imagine, especially in a desert like this. “Tragic.”

The city hadn’t been totally abandoned. The original city gate was still being used, though any gates had long rotted away. Two guards stood in the opening, watching our approach. As we grew closer, I saw that they were shaped like centaurs, with an animal-like body and a more humanoid top. In this species, the bottom was the body and legs of a very large, powerful lion. The top was human as far as there was a torso, chest, and arms. But the hands were closer to a lion’s clawed paw, and their heads were very lion-like. Yellip had called them lions; the genie had called them felids. The guards wore no clothing, only necklaces of turquoise stones. They carried no weapons, but from their muscular builds and claws, not to mention their long teeth, steel weapons would probably be redundant. From their shaggy manes, both guards were male.

The guards naturally stood taller than I would on the ground, and though they weren’t as tall as I was on the towering camoose, the lions were very imposing. Out of the side of my mouth, I asked the genie, “Any advice?”

“Don’t do anything foolish.”

“Anything more specific?”

“Don’t die.”

“That…not very helpful.” Breathing deep to keep myself calm, I kept my eyes on the lions as we approached. When we were about two camoose-lengths away, the guards growled, and I pulled us to a stop.

The guards faced us squarely in the entrance to the city, blocking our path. Their golden, black-rimmed eyes watched us closely. The smaller of the pair raised his brows at the sight of the cat on the camoose’s head. But the larger’s eyes never left my own.

The larger spoke first. “Welcome to Leonidas. Identify yourself.”

I hadn’t thought of coming up with a story, and filled with anxiety. “Just a traveller.”

“From Agarahbad?”

“Not exactly. Further away. Heard there was a city here and was curious.”

He gave me a dubious look. He and the other guard eyed the camoose. “Familiar animals.” They eyed my gear. His voice became more suspicious, “Familiar clothes. You appear to be one of the gila. Yet you are human.”

“Traded.” I didn’t explain more, hoping a simple explanation and short answers might deter more questions than trying to fabricate an answer might. If I tried to talk too much, it would probably just show how ignorant I was of things.

“Not a bandit then?”

“Absolutely not.”

The lead lion nodded. “You planning on trading in Leonidas?”

An idea inspired by DnD books and anime struck. “Maybe. Maybe looking for work.” I figured maybe I could act like some kind of adventurer. It was a fantasy world; maybe the job existed here, or something similar.

Both lions laughed. That wasn’t the reaction I’d been hoping for.

The smaller gave me a sly expression. “A human. Work in Leonidas? Ahu, you really are a stranger, aren’t you?”

The larger just grinned, and his mouth was full of yellow-white teeth.

I felt like I was missing something important. “Is that a problem?”

The large was highly amused. “No! Not at all. But just to be clear, you’re not an emissary of the Sultan of Agarahbad?”

“Um, no.”

“Not a member of the caliphate court?”

“No...”

Both lions smiled widely.

I grew tense.

Despite my growing worry, the guards separated and stepped aside so that I could pass between them.

The larger guard waved me through with a glint in his eye. “You may pass.”

I gripped the reins tight, though I tried to appear relaxed in the saddle. With a flick, I got the camoose moving. The following camoose readily followed.

The sand cat genie appeared to clean her paws as if she hadn’t a worry in the world.

I was right between the two guards when the smaller one lunged at me with both hands. I threw myself to the side, out of reach. Toward the other guard. A large hand-like paw wrapped around my throat, and claws extended until they pressed into my skin, ready to puncture it. There was no time to use a skill, no chance to use my new strength and speed to escape. I was dragged off the camoose, and the larger guard’s arm wrapped around my body, easily holding me immobile.

The sand cat genie’s head swivelled until she could see me. Her eyes rolled, and she sighed. Shaking her head, she looked away.

The smaller guard laughed as he moved to take the reins of the lead camoose. “I love it when prey delivers itself.”

They carried me into the ruined remains of the ancient city, slung under the larger guard’s arm like a football. Needless to say, the genie did not intervene. The mimic was in tent form, so even if she were inclined to help, it would take hours to change form. They’d called me prey, and it was easy to imagine the lion-like people eating humans. I felt stupid for being caught without even a fight, and tense, afraid I was being led to my doom.

The city, it turned out, wasn’t quite as dead as its physical husk suggested. In fact, it was pretty busy. As we walked through the streets, I saw more lion folk. Males with tan-coloured manes of hair walked about alone or in pairs, filled with a bullying arrogance, even around other similar males — until faced with prides of females, and especially when those prides were followed by larger males with black manes.

The females moved with complete assurance, their movements lithe, and everyone hastily moved to the side of the streets, out of their way, backs against buildings and walls until the pride passed. When those prides were followed by a larger, black-maned lion, everyone bowed their heads. Tan-maned males hungrily watched the females pass, and gave the blank-maned lions hateful, jealous glares while they feigned subservience. For their part, the black-maned lions rarely bothered to give their tanned lessors any attention whatsoever.

Lions were actually the minority of the population. The streets were filled with a variety of people busily going about daily chores and tasks: ringtails, a few humans, tall-eared fox folk, and a fabulous and tall deer-like people with long, curving horns. Ibex maybe? Every single one had a metal collar around their neck, a downtrodden air, and kept their eyes on the ground — slaves. There were a few of the lizard people, gila, the guard had called them, in black or white robes, always with a camoose in tow and well armed. From the wares they carried or sold in street stalls, they appeared to be both slave traders and merchants of other goods. A land tortoise species, each the size of a small car, slowly plodded down dusty streets, many hauling carts.

It may not be polite to point it out, but the place smelled of animals, just like a zoo. It generally wasn’t a bad smell, and I loved zoos, but it was noticeable. And some individuals were extremely pungent in a way that made me gag. White cloth tarps and banners of no uniform size or shape had been strung over narrower streets for shade, many ratty with age but intermixed with newer ones. Sounds made the place feel even livelier: conversations, bartering, the creak of cart wheels, the crackle of open-flamed barbecues roasting various insects and unidentifiable meat, and even music. Small groups of street musicians played, members almost always made up of young male lions with tanned manes.

Literally nobody paid me and my captors any mind as I was carried through the streets. From all the slavery going on, it was probably a common enough sight, meaning there was no one to call for help. The claws never left my neck, so there was no chance to struggle free. I could only hang there in the lion’s arm, helpless as a child. At least the city and its many non-human people were fascinating in many ways, so the trip was as interesting as it was worrying.

We emerged from what seemed to be a main street onto a plaza on a riverbank, overlooking a once-mighty river. The river’s original banks were probably two hundred paces wide. Unfortunately, it was as if someone had turned the tap down low, cutting off the water supply, because now, only a thin stream ran through the depression. Dozens of newer, palatial-like homes had been built in the depression, and the remains of the river had been engineered to flow around them, each one a limestone and clay island, each island connected to others by brick bridges. The palaces were ringed by greenery, each one an oasis. I guessed that was where the nobility lived. I assumed that meant the lions. Downstream from that area, irrigation trenches had been cut along the bottom of the depression, and different crops planted. I couldn’t tell what from so far away, but some were grain-like, and others were bushes and trees.

The plaza we’d entered looked a lot like the old Trajan’s Market in ancient Rome. Two stories tall, it was a half-circle with a series of open arches on the ground level, each filled with a different merchant. The upper story appeared to be offices, although at least half had their roofs collapsed. In the center of the hemisphere was a stone stage with a long metal bar in the middle. The bar and stage were stained with rust-coloured patches. Three bodies were still chained to the bar, and none were moving. As we entered the hemisphere, I could see through the arches to the cages stacked beyond them. Cages filled with people.

It was a slave market. And it was rather busy. Female lions, almost all in groups, were at many of the stalls, shopping and bargaining for ringtails, humans, and what appeared to be a wide spectrum of monsters or animals I didn’t recognize.

What the hell did they want with the monsters? Was this also a butcher shop? Was I going to be food?

My captors hauled me to a particular stall in the market attended by a reddish-brown snake creature I guessed was a naga. It had to be several meters long, its body thicker than mine, and it had two humanoid arms. It wore only a white and orange sash and red jewelry and watched us approach. Beady eyes focused on us, and it rubbed its thin fingers together. It spoke with a deep, raspy voice, and I guessed it was male, “Waffir, Lamuey. How good to see you. Have you come bearing a gift?”

The smaller guard snorted. “Ssetsy, you always think you’re so funny. We come to sell.” He still led the camooses. The genie had curled up atop the mimic and was feigning sleep.

The larger guard held me up for inspection like I weighed no more than a mannequin. “Male human. Ragged but seems tough. Good for the pits.”

Not wanting to be sold into slavery, I grabbed the lion’s wrist and put pressure on it, then tried to wiggle my way out of his grip. That lasted about two seconds, then the lion’s claws punctured my skin and drew blood. I stilled, not wanting my throat torn out.

My captor laughed. “See? He is a fighter. He will be good in the pits.”

The naga, Ssetsy, appeared unimpressed. He slithered close and lifted my arms, poked under my clothes, and his tongue flickered in and out so fast it was barely visible. “Stringy. And humans are so weak. It will die quickly.”

The smaller guard waggled a paw at the naga. “Don’t be like that. You know humans can sometimes fight. They just need to be given a weapon. He’s worth at least ten gold.”

The naga hissed and waved the guards away with both hands. “Ten? Begone, Lamuey. You waste my time. I would not pay more than one gold. He will not last more than a single fight. He would be disposable.”

The smaller guard, Lamuey, countered, “One fight? Surely you would not be so foolish as to waste a good fighter in a quick death? Look at him. He is very ugly! The crowd will love to spit on him. And look at his white and red skin. Like prey. The caliphate court loves it when prey survives a few rounds. Give us eight, and it is low, but because we like you, Ssetsy, we will choose to believe it is fair.”

The naga scorned this offer. “Eight? Perhaps for something that could fight in the coliseum. But for the pits? Three is more than generous.”

“Three?” Lamuey slid the fabric of my robe up to my shoulder, baring an arm. “Look at him! He is not nearly as weak as his kind normally are.” He bared a leg next. “There! Muscle. And,” the lion guard pointed to my camoose, “he carries a spear. He is a trained warrior. Six gold is a steal. I would only offer this because of how profitable our past transactions have been.”

The naga was distracted by a lizard person, a gila, came out to the front of the shop. They spoke in whispers before the gila retreated. The naga returned, looking harried. “Yes, yes. Very well. I’m afraid I have other things that require my attention. Four. Final offer.” He gave every impression of having reached the limits of the negotiation. I wondered if it was all an act, including having the assistant come out and fake a distraction.

Lamuey exchanged a glance with Waffir, got a shrug in return, and growled at the naga, “Fine. Four gold. But we will remember how you treated us, snake. Maybe next time we go to Ssavil. Maybe he appreciates our business more. Maybe we spread the word that Ssavil is more than just a trader; he’s an honest one.”

The naga’s neck flared wide like a cobra’s, and he bared his fangs. “You would abuse my good name and conspire with that egg eater, Ssavil? After all the profits we have shared?”

Waffir spoke for the first time in the negotiations, “Four gold and a tenth of his earnings, Ssetsy. I think that would prove to all of us how important this relationship is.”

At least appearing disgruntled, as if he’d lost the negotiation, the naga replied, “Yes. Fine. Four and a tenth.” Ssetsy slithered over to a table, retrieved a metal collar, and returned, opening it as he moved.

I tried to escape in the brief moment the lion’s claws left my neck, but the naga moved with practiced ease, and the collar clicked shut around my neck before I had the presence of mind to use a skill. A chain attached to the collar, making me no more than a pet. When Waffir placed me back on the ground, I grabbed the chain and tried to pull it out of the naga’s hands. But the collar buzzed, inflicting pain, and I fell to one knee.

The naga jerked on the chain, pulling me up to my feet again. “You will be obedient, or you will suffer.” To prove his point, he did something, and even more pain flowed from the collar and into my neck, coiling its way down my spine. It was torture. I cried out, unable to do anything. Only the way the naga pulled up on the chain kept me on my feet.

Money changed hands, and the naga purchased the camooses and gear as well. The lions evidently only cared for the money. While an assistant took charge of the camooses, leading them, the genie, and the mimic away, the naga dragged me through the archway to the cages out back. Finding an empty one, he tossed me inside, locked the door, and then locked the collar chain to the cage itself. Light flared on the lock and cage, and it seemed like magic had been invoked. Escape was going to be difficult.

I rubbed at the wounds on my neck and also tried to rip the collar off, to no avail. Before the naga could leave, I asked, “What are you going to do with me?”

The naga gave me an annoyed look. “I’ll add you to the lists and place bets. Tomorrow, you fight in the pits.”