Althalus reached out, took Eliar by his hair and jerked him into a standing position. ‘When I tell you to do something, do it,’ he said. ‘Now open your mouth. I want to see your teeth.’
Eliar tightly clamped his mouth shut.
‘He’s a bit stubborn, Master Althalus,’ Andine said. ‘I’ve been trying ever so hard to cure him of that.’
‘It takes a certain amount of firmness to break a slave’s spirit, Your Highness,’ Althalus advised her. Then he took his dagger from his belt and pried Eliar’s teeth apart with it. ‘Good healthy teeth,’ he noted. ‘That’s a promising sign. Bad teeth usually mean that the slave’s got something wrong with him.’
Eliar made a lunge at Althalus, but his chains brought him up short.
‘He’s a little stupid,’ Althalus observed, but that can be cured. Boy,’ he said to the captive, ‘didn’t your sergeant ever explain to you that it’s foolish to attack an armed man with your bare hands? Particularly when you’re chained up?’
Eliar was straining at his chains, trying to pull himself free.
‘Good muscle tone there, too,’ Althalus said approvingly. ‘I’d pay a premium for this one, Your Highness.’
‘That one isn’t for sale,’ Andine replied rather intensely. Her voice had taken on a steely note, and her huge black eyes burned.
‘Everything’s for sale, Your Highness,’ Althalus replied with a cynical laugh.
‘Don’t push it just yet, Althalus,’ Emmy’s purring voice murmured in his mind. ‘I’m still working on her.’
‘Do you think you can bring her around?’
‘Probably. She’s young enough to be impulsive. Ask to see the other captives. You’ll probably have to buy them all to get Eliar.’
‘We can discuss this one later, Your Highness,’ Althalus said to the Arya. ‘Do you suppose I might be able to take a look at the others?’
‘Of course, Master Althalus,’ Andine replied. ‘Show him the way to the dungeon, Lord Dhakan.’
‘At once. Your Highness,’ the silvery-haired old gentleman replied. ‘This way, Master Althalus.’
The two of them left the throne room.
‘Your Arya’s a beautiful young woman, Lord Dhakan,’ Althalus observed.
‘That’s the only reason we tolerate her, Althalus. She’s pretty enough that we can overlook her flaws.’
‘She’ll settle down, Dhakan. Marry her off, that’s my advice. After she’s had a few babies, she’ll start to grow up.’
There were nine kilted young Arums in the dungeon, and some of them were still nursing wounds they’d received during the battle outside the walls of Osthos. Althalus made some show of inspecting them. ‘Not bad, on the whole,’ he said as he and Dhakan were returning to the throne room. ‘That one she’s got chained to the post is the key to the whole arrangement, though. He’s the best of the lot. If we can persuade her to include him, I’ll make her an offer. If she won’t agree, I think I’ll have to go elsewhere.’
‘I’ll speak with her, Althalus,’ Dhakan promised. ‘You might want to describe the conditions the slaves have to live in once they get to the mines of Ansu. Exaggeration wouldn’t hurt. Our little girl hungers and thirsts for revenge. Let’s persuade her that the life of a slave in a salt mine is far, far worse than anything she can think of to do to him here. That might just tip the scales. Be eloquent, Althalus. Linger on unspeakable horrors if you possibly can. Our dear Andine is top-full of passions, and passionate people make hasty decisions based on whims. I’ll help as much as I can. I want that young Eliar out of Osthos and out of Andine’s sight. If she refuses to sell him to you, I’ll have to come up with a way to kill him. I have to get rid of him.’
‘Trust me, Dhakan,’ Althalus said confidently. ‘When it comes to buying and selling, I’m the very best.’ Then he sent his thought out to Emmy. ‘Have you got her yet, Em?’ he asked.
‘I’m getting closer.’
‘See if you can stir some interest in the salt mines.’
‘What for?’
‘So I can tell her some horror stories.’
‘You’re going to lie to her, I take it?’
‘No, I’m going to tell her the truth. Unless things have changed, the salt mines of Ansu are worse than the deepest pits in Nekweros. Dhakan thinks that might turn the trick here. Nudge her hard, Em. If she doesn’t sell Eliar to us, Dhakan’s going to have him killed.’
When Althalus and Dhakan entered the throne room, they saw that Andine had laid the laurel-leaf dagger aside and that she was concentrating all her attention on Emmy. She was smiling, and her smile was almost like the sun coming up. Even when she’d been scowling at Eliar, she’d been beautiful, but when she smiled, her beauty made Althalus go weak in the knees.
Dhakan went up to the dais and spoke quietly with his young ruler at some length.
Andine shook her head vehemently several times. Then Dhakan beckoned to Althalus.
Althalus approached the throne. ‘Yes, my Lord?’ he asked Dhakan.
‘I think we should get down to cases here, Master Althalus,’ Dhakan declared. ‘What’s your offer?’
‘Nine Perquaine wheats apiece for the ones you’ve got down in the dungeon,’ Althalus replied.
‘You said ten!’ Andine’s voice suddenly soared. Sergeant Khalor’s description of that voice appeared to have been a slight understatement.
Althalus held up one finger. ‘The price is subject to amendment, Your Highness,’ he said. ‘If you’re willing to include Eliar, I’ll slide it up. I’ll pay you eighty-one gold wheats for the nine in the dungeon. If you’re willing to add Eliar, I’ll pay you a hundred for the lot.’
‘That’s a difference of nineteen pieces of gold. He isn’t worth that much!’ Her voice rose again.
‘He’s prime stock. Your Highness. When I reach Ansu, I’ll put him out front for the mine-owners to look at. They’ll buy the lot just to get him. I know good merchandise when I see it. I could sell cripples if I could wave Eliar in the buyer’s face.’
‘What’s it like down there in those salt mines?’ she asked. ‘How would you describe them?’
Althalus feigned a shudder. ‘I’d really rather not, Your Highness,’ he replied. ‘Over to the east, in Wekti, Plakand and Equero, criminals beg to be executed when they’re sentenced to be sold into the salt mines as a punishment for murder and the like. Being sent into those mines is far worse than a death sentence. If a slave’s unlucky, he’ll last for ten years down there. The lucky ones die in just a few months.’
‘Why don’t we talk about that?’ Andine almost purred.
Althalus described conditions in the salt mines at some length, exaggerating only slightly. He mentioned the prevalence of blindness, the frequent cave-ins – during which lucky slaves were crushed to death. He covered the darkness, the perpetual chill, the continuous choking dust, and dwelt at some length on the burly men with whips. ‘All in all,’ he concluded, ‘murderers and the like are very wise to prefer hanging to the mines.’
‘Then you’d say that being sent to the salt mines is a fate worse than death?’ Andine said, her lovely eyes all aglow.
‘Oh, yes,’ Althalus assured her, ‘much, much worse.’
‘I do believe we can strike a bargain here, Master Althalus,’ she decided. ‘A hundred gold wheats for the lot, you say?’
‘That was my offer, Your Highness.’
‘Done, then – if you’ll throw in your cat.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘I want this lovely little cat. If you let me have her, we’ve struck a bargain.’
