Shadow Weaver Book 2: Song of the Naga

Chapter 7

I glance back again. The velaraptor is holding its head up so it can still keep me in its line of sight.

"Mirra—"Tug warns.

"Three silver pieces."

"You couldn't give it away," I say dismissively, though I am tempted.

"Two silver pieces."

Tug pushes the seller aside, grips me by the forearm, and strides forward, distancing us from the seller without drawing any more attention.

My stride falters as we pass the slave cages--first the men, then the women, then the boys, then the girls. There isn't room for them all to lie down, so they sleep with legs and arms dangling over each other like a grave of corpses.

As before, there are almost as many girls as the rest of the slaves combined. Where do they come from? Bounty hunters capture glitter-eyed children hiding in the Sea of Trees. But where do these Carucan slaves come from? Are whole families abducted and sold like this?

Tug catches my eye, and I quicken my pace. I'm not sure I'm ready to see the glitter-eyed children. I thought my last time here inoculated me to the effects of such horror. But it is not as I anticipated. Before, I had to shut everything else out, even my grief over Kel. I had to remain strong or lose my brother. But without his need for my strength, it is as though these dying souls are reaching through the cages and infecting me with their pain.

Tug's giant palm settles on my shoulder. I glance at him. His face is half in shadow; an orange lantern light gleams in his eyes, making him look more wolf than ever. It is a rare thing for him to touch me. My body immediately draws strength from it. For an instant, an image of him standing in the lodgings holding his newborn daughter comes to mind. It strikes me that whatever I have to do for my people, his duties lie elsewhere. When Tug has settled his debt with Brin, he must return to Sara.

We enter the labyrinth of food stands behind the slave cages. The smell of burning spices, hot ginger, and roasted almonds drifts in the air. We cross a metal walkway beneath a network of cages suspended in the roof above. Tug pulls off his hood as we enter the eating house beneath the cages. I copy him, and

rub my palms on my trousers as we sit down at a table.

His gaze weighs on me. "You don't have to do this."

Yes, I do. I am starting to believe there are no real choices. We do not choose to love, hate, help, or hurt. We do these things because we cannot do anything else. We are on a fast-flowing river, and there is only one way to travel—downstream.

A server arrives with a tray of mint tea, a wooden bowl with a red crayon, and a long cone-shaped object. The cone-shaped eyeglass is for observing the glitter-eyed children in the cages above. We did not receive a red crayon the last time because Tug and Brin were sellers, not buyers.

The server clears his throat. "The patron would like me to inform you that due to unprecedented demand, trading is currently suspended. We invite you to enjoy your tea and return in a few hours when trading will be resumed." He bows and hurries away.

I narrow my eyes at Tug. He stares back. Lips quivering, I raise the eyeglass. It takes a moment for the mist in my eyes to clear and for me to focus.

"They've all gone," I whisper, shock rippling through me. I roam the eyeglass across the individual cages where the glitter-eyed children are usually kept. Empty. Every single one is empty. "Curse the Kingdoms, they're all gone!"

Tug snatches the eyeglass and checks for himself. I watch as he scans the intricate suspension of cages and metal walkways in the smog overhead. His eyes train back and forth several times. When he lowers the glass, I sense he is as unsettled as I am, though he does a far better job of pulling the emotion from his face.