The sun shone brightly through the forest, and birds sang sweetly in the trees. The
air was full of the smells of spring changing into summer: the aroma of flowers, the musky
scent of trees, the sweet smell of freshly turned earth that radiated from the farmlands
nearby. Marron Glace paused mid-stride, tilting his head back and closing his eyes,
absorbing the feel of the forest around him. He inhaled deeply, and then he sighed as a
sweet passing breeze lifted a few locks of his glossy black hair.
Marron was alone. Not only was he alone, but he had been
alone for a very long period of time. Since there had been a bit of a dry spell between
assignments, the Sorcerer Hunters had split up to take a little "vacation" from
each other, and their hectic lives. True, he was a bit worried about leaving his brother
Carrot alone for any period of time, but Marron hoped that he would not get into too much
trouble, and besides, it was only a week.
It hadn’t even been a full day since they had
separated, and already Marron had gotten much more accomplished than he usually did in the
morning. He had practiced all of the complicated hand-gestures required for his spells, he
had read an entire book of folklore, he had eaten breakfast a leisurely and relaxing pace,
and he had meditated without interruption for the longest span of time in years. He almost
hated to admit it, but he was having the best time by himself.
Marron continued to walk through the quiet forest, smiling
slightly to himself like a contented cat. Suddenly he walked through a break in the trees
and came across a worn stone wall. Marron stopped, folding his hands across the front of
his robe and looking up at the wall curiously. The town of Tulloxie was about a mile
behind him, the next town was supposed to be about nine miles away, and this wall did not
look old enough to be part of castle ruins or an old city. There had been no indication
that there were any other parts of the city that he had not already seen. His golden eyes
filled with curiosity, Marron walked further down the wall.
He came up to a wide opening in the wall, with a weathered
sign nailed to a tree outside. On the sign was a crude picture of a man in chains, and the
words "Slave Auction" were lettered beneath the picture. Marron frowned
slightly; disgusted by the idea of people possessing slaves, but as he faintly heard the
voices of the bidders crying out inside, his curiosity was piqued. This was his vacation,
and he had never been in a slave auction before. Perhaps he had enough money to buy a few
of them and set them free. Running a slim, pale finger over his chin thoughtfully, Marron
walked through the opening in the grass and into the auction.
The scene inside was chaos. Four guards held a tall,
hugely muscled man on a stone platform, and he struggled as the throng around the bottom
of the platform screamed out coin amounts. The circular area was filled with other slaves,
some held by chains and some held in cages, scantily clad men and women being bid upon by
various types of human beings. There were benches and trees growing in the area, as well
as tumbled rocks, and by the appearance of those lolling on them it made Marron think that
some people came to watch the auction as a form of recreation instead of actually buying
anyone. Some of the slaves looked all too happy with their status, licking their lips and
casting seductive glances at every bidder and passer-by. Marron guessed that there were
more than just a few sorcerers here, or at least people who worked for sorcerers, those
being the only people he could think of who could afford such a luxury as buying a person.
He frowned slightly in disgust, turning to leave, and then a young man sitting nearby
caught his eye.
The boy was beautiful, with milky white skin and large,
soft brown eyes. He wore no shirt, revealing his slim, graceful body and his flat nipples,
which were as pink as rosepetals. His brownish-black hair was cut jaggedly, with wispy
locks that hung past his chin and into his face. His hands were slim, with long, elegant
fingers, and his worn brown pants clung slightly to his slender legs. The boy could not
have been more than two years younger than Marron, but there was a sweet innocence about
him that made him seem younger. Marron found himself staring, his eyes moving slowly over
the delicate jut of the boy’s thin collarbones, when the boy turned to look at him.
Marron swallowed, trapped by those doe-like eyes. The boy smiled, and Marron felt faint.
He nodded faintly in response, then turned and walked swiftly into the crowd, feeling the
boy’s eyes on him the entire time.
Marron tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robe and
folded them across his chest, letting his golden eyes slide over the slaves as he moved
past them. He could feel the presence of the boy behind him, drawing him with a force as
strong as gravity. From time to time, he would glance back to catch a glimpse of the boy
near the entrance, and a wave of gentle heat would wash over his body. He shivered,
turning away. What was this that he was feeling, and what was making him feel this way?
What was it about this boy?
After about the millionth time Marron had turned to look
at him, he noticed a cruel-looking woman standing over him and speaking with him. It
suddenly occurred to him that the boy might be a slave. He wasn’t wearing chains, or
a collar, but he seemed to be paying more attention to those who walked past him than he
was to the slaves in the arena. The thought made Marron stop in his tracks . . . after
all, had he not said that he might buy a slave to free him? Perhaps he could buy the boy
and not free him right away . . . He shook his head, trying to banish the thought from his
mind. What on earth would he do with a slave? Then he looked up, and the boy’s eyes
caught his again. Marron’s breath caught in his throat. The boy smiled, his face as
sweet as a newborn babe’s, and Marron found himself unconsciously walking towards
him. Electricity flowed between their eyes, turning Marron’s insides into mush.
He stopped a few feet away from the boy, his fingers
twisting in agonized nervousness beneath the sleeves of his robe. The boy sat on a
weathered block of stone, looking back up at him and smiling. Pregnant silence stretched
between them as the woman who had been looking at the boy glanced back and forth between
them, and then she sighed and walked away.
"Hi," said the boy.
Marron cleared his throat nervously. "Um….
Hello."
The boy smiled more. "I’m Menkari."
"Oh? That is . . . . . a nice name. I am Marron
Glace."
"You want to sit down, Marron?" The boy patted
the block of stone beside him. Marron could feel himself grow paler.
"Um . . . . . sure."
Marron tucked his robe under himself and perched
delicately on the edge of the stone block, all too aware of Menkari’s body next to
him. He could feel the boy’s eyes on him again, and he swallowed. He turned his head
slightly, almost afraid to look into Menkari’s soft, gentle brown eyes.
"Are you a slave?" Marron asked softly.
A faint shadow crossed Menkari’s fair, pale face.
"Yes, I am," he replied quietly, still smiling a little.
"Do you enjoy it?"
Menkari shrugged, picking an apple off of the stone next
to him and rolling it over in his hands. Marron looked down, studying the boy’s
slender, graceful fingers.
"Are you hungry?" Menkari asked suddenly,
looking up with a bright smile on his face.
Marron blinked his golden eyes at him. "I
suppose."
"Do you like apples?" Menkari pulled out a small
dagger and began to cut the apple into slices. Marron nodded mutely, his eyes transfixed
by the deft movements of the boy’s slim hands. Menkari held out a slice to him,
smiling, and Marron plucked it gently out of his hand. Feeling the boy’s eyes on him,
he carefully bit the slice in half. Marron chewed slowly, savoring the sweet taste on his
tongue.
"This is very good. Where did you get it from?"
Marron asked.
Menkari shrugged, popping a slice into his mouth.
"Some girl gave it to me."
They sat in silence for a time, while Marron finished his
bit of apple and took the next slice that Menkari offered him. He could feel the boy’s
eyes lingering on him the entire time, the careful scrutiny making him feel all kinds of
strange things down in his stomach. He looked up at Menkari carefully, and Menkari looked
back, the same almost-gleeful smile on his lovely, childlike face.
"You have beautiful hair," Menkari said.
Marron could feel himself blush slightly, running a hand
absently through the glossy black locks that framed his face and hung down past his waist.
"Thank you."
"I wish my hair was that nice . . ." Menkari
looked down at his hands.
"Your hair is nice," Marron replied,
looking at the strange, uneven cut. "It’s . . . interesting."
"It was cut off with a knife," Menkari said.
"That is why it looks like this. It used to be long, but it was never as nice as
yours."
"Someone cut off your hair?"
Menkari nodded.
"Were you upset? I think I would be terribly upset if
someone cut off my hair . . . I mean, I try not to be vain, but if I were, I think that my
hair would be my greatest vanity."
"I was upset, a little . . . but I think I would have
been much more upset if my hair was as nice as yours." Menkari looked up at him,
smiling, and he reached out to gently touch Marron’s hair.
Marron froze, holding his breath. Menkari patted his hair
softly, running his fingers through it, a lazy smile on his sweet face. Marron’s body
tingled all over, and he bit his lip without realizing it. He almost leaned towards
Menkari’s touch, then realized the thought and squelched it before it could manifest
itself. Angry with himself, he tried to figure out what was going on inside him.
"You don’t mind, do you?" Menkari blinked
his soft brown eyes at Marron, looking almost worried. Marron shook his head slightly, not
wanting to pull away from Menkari’s touch. The boy smiled and began to run his
fingers lightly through Marron’s hair.
Marron cleared his throat nervously, suddenly remembering
his idea of setting a slave free.
"Are you for auction as well?" the Sorcerer
Hunter asked quietly.
Menkari shrugged. "I suppose I was," he said
quietly, "but my guard is collapsed drunk somewhere . . ."
Marron looked away from the boy to let his eyes roam over
the chaos of the auction, sighing softly.
"Why would anyone want to buy a slave? I cannot think
of a thing that I would do with one, if I had one. What does one do with a slave,
anyway?"
Menkari shrugged, pulling his fingers out of Marron’s
hair. "Work them, beat them, marry them . . ."
"Marry them?" Marron looked at Menkari again,
surprised.
The boy shrugged his elegant shoulders again, replying,
"I’ve seen it done."
