Chapter 7
Arius awoke to movement. "
Not sudden—rhythmic. The uneven swaying of a cart across a worn path. His body hurt in spots he could not even locate, but even that was muffled and distant. The numbers didn't come flooding back right away. For a moment, perilously brief, he could see with ordinary eyes.
This frightened him more than the pain.
He tried to move. Iron cut into his wrists.
Chains.
Arius took a sharp breath. The action elicited a dry laugh from somewhere above him.
"Oh. That's good. You
It was calm and polished. A man unused to rushing the words that left his mouth.
Arius turned his head with effort. Wood slats bordered his view, the inside of the covered wagon illuminated by strips of daylight. A figure was seated across from him, tinkering with leather straps in careful, almost ritualistic movements.
The man sized him up, much like he would when evaluating cattle.
A large build. Broad shoulders. Dark, greasy hair. Blue eyes, clouded with exhaustion, but bright beneath it.
"Well," said the man, satisfied, "you'll fetch a price."
"Where…" Arius croaked. His throat hurt. "Where am I?"
The man raised an eyebrow. "You don't know?"
A pause. Then a shrug.
"Doesn't matter," she said. "You're
Leaned back ever so slightly, smiled—not cruelly, not kindly. Professionally.
"Name's Oliver," he said. "Traveling merchant. I move what people want but don't like to admit they need."
The heart of Arius began pounding.
"You can't—" he began
Oliver interrupted him softly. "You were discovered passed out on the edge of the forest. No papers. No sign of citizenship. No one to take you in." He indicated the chains with a lazy gesture. "That makes you propertyless."
"The word settled like a verdict."
"I don't trade in corpses," Oliver went on. "However, living goods? Particularly those who resemble you?" His eyes drifted again, measuring. "Tall. Balanced. Unusual skin tone. You'll market well in the city."
The wagon lurched. Arius flinched
"You're selling me," Arius stated, realizing the truth.
Oliver nodded. "Auction, actually. More fair that way."
Arius's vision flickered
Numbers seeped faintly back into existence—weak, twisted, retracting as soon as he tried to fix on them. His eyes foresaw nothing. Revealed no exit. Only the likelihoods shrinking together.
"You could let me go," Arius said quietly.
Oliver thought about this. Seriously considered this.
He smiled again. "I could. But I won't."
He stood, moving the canvas flap aside. A bar of sunlight sliced into the room, its brightness cold and clinical.
"We'll reach the city by dusk," said Oliver. "Try not to die before then. Dead goods upset buyers,"
The flap closed.
The wagon rolled on.
Arius remained motionless, the chill of the chains against his flesh as the truth finally fell into place:
He had lived through the forest. Was to be won by something much more mundane.