"Nancy Springer - Isle 03 - The Sable Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Springer Nancy)

Here the traders came with their wares at the dawn of the market day, and even before the arrival of the
buyers the place was crowded. Thousands of human beings filled itтАФan eerie gathering, Trevyn thought,
for the slaves hardly moved or spoke. The silence of despair hung over them all. About half of the slaves
were women, bound in their own strings apart from the men, many with babes at their breasts. Trevyn
stared, gaped indeed, for they were as naked as himself. The sight did not thrill him so much as dismay
him; they were as beaten, as filthy, and as bereft of dignity as he. Suddenly he thought of Meg, imagining
her in such company, and his face turned hard as stone. He stood like rage immobilized while the buyers
arrived and looked him over, feeling his limbs for soundness as if he were a draft animal.

"Here is a man looking for a mute!" one of the traders cried to another, leading a buyer through the lines
of slaves.

"Then here is his mute!" shouted the other, striding to Trevyn and jerking him forward. "Right here, sir, a
fine, strong fellow!"

"Are you quite sure he is unable to speak?" the buyer asked, addressing the slave trader with distaste he
made no effort to conceal: He was a slender young man, a bit shorter than Trevyn, with a high, pale
forehead over eloquent eyes. The noisy slave merchant did not seem to mind his evident distrust.

"Why, he's not made a sound these two weeks past," the slaver blustered, "not even in pain. Here, let
me show ye." He grabbed Trevyn's finger and wrenched it back, but the young man gasped and struck
his hand away.

"That will not be necessary," he said imperiously. "I take it, then, that he has not lost his tongue?"

"Nay," answered the slaver, crestfallen. Then he bright┬мened. "But if ye want him, sir, I'll take the tongue
out of him for ye, right enoughтАФ"

"Great goddess, nay!" The man was emphatic, and Trevyn allowed himself a sigh of relief. "Mischance
enough if it was born in him." The young man turned to Trevyn, studying him, not poking at him as the
others had done, but looking into his eyes. Trevyn met his gaze steadily, and the man nodded, satisfied.
"How much?" he asked.



"Softly, sir, he's a handsome piece; if I put him on the block he'll bring me a pretty price."

"I cannot wait for the bidding; I have business at home. Name your price."

The slave trader named a price. It was high, but the young man doled out $he gold without demur. The
slaver undid Trevyn from the string, leaving his hands tied. ,;

"He is mine now," the young man said.

"Ay." тАв

"To do with as I like."