Flux

was what his master intended. He wasn’t certain how he’d felt about it. Would it be any worse than being one of those miserable drudges scrubbing floors or toiling in the fields? And at least his master was handsome, stunningly so, with thick dark curls and strong muscles and brown eyes that reminded him of Camens’, only softer.
    But then it had turned out that his master was also kind and gentle and more than a little shy, and he’d refused to touch Miner even when they both so clearly wished he would.
    Whatever happened to Miner now, whatever his lot would be, he knew his good fortune had run out. He would not again end up in the hands of a kind man who wanted a lover instead of a slave.

    ***

    The air grew chilly after the sun set, but the slaves weren’t given any blankets to warm themselves. A few lamps hung on the outer fence and these were lit, but they cast almost no light into the enclosure. Miner could see other lights, though, off in the distance. Houses and shops and, in the harbor, many boats. There were even some twinkling lights on the promontory near the harbor mouth, and he wondered whether they were at the palace. Naturally, that led to thoughts of whether Ennek might still be there somewhere, thoughts that Miner tried to banish from his mind.
    A gate Miner hadn’t even noticed was unlocked and a pair of guards came in, accompanied by a half dozen slaves carrying large pails. The guards waited while these slaves set the pails down; the enclosure's livelier occupants rushed forward and Miner realized that food and water had been brought. He didn’t bother to push his way into the crowd. As his fellow captives ate and drank, the other slaves collected the reeking slop buckets. Then, accompanied by the guards, they left the enclosure. The gate was locked again.
    As the night chill settled in, many of the slaves huddled together for warmth and comfort. But some, like Miner, remained alone. Miner curled up on his side and hoped he didn’t dream.
    The ground was hard and his stomach was empty, and he didn’t sleep well at all. There were unsettling noises as well—the moans and cries of the other prisoners, the calls of sailors and others along the shore, shouts that he thought might be a night market nearby, and of course the constant sound of the ocean. His collar felt tight around his neck, as if it were choking him. He rather wished it would.
    He was awake when the sky began to lighten and he saw the sun peek gradually over the horizon. He was glad for the warmth it promised, at least. The other slaves began to stir, listlessly moving about and using the previous night’s emptied food buckets as toilets. Miner was disgusted, but his bladder was full too, and he ended up walking to the nearest bucket so he could urinate. He was too desolate to be more than slightly ashamed of the further humiliation of voiding himself in front of an audience.
    Not long afterward, the gate was re-opened, and again two guards entered with six slaves. In the morning light Miner could see these slaves better. They were all naked, and each of them was damaged in some way. One was missing an eye, another had a horribly mangled hand, a third walked with a severe limp, and one of them had been badly burned across the face and upper torso. He suspected they were all too debilitated to be easily sold, and that’s why they had been given the task of feeding and cleaning up after the others. He wondered what they did during the rest of the day.
    This time when the pails were set down, Miner stood and waited his turn at the water. As hungry as he was, he didn’t try to eat the food, which looked and smelled as if it were half-rotted table scraps. The water was fetid as well, but he was parched enough to drink several handfuls. As he stepped away from the bucket, a young woman with a thin, torn dress and close-shorn hair gave him a small smile. He couldn’t manage to smile back.
    The morning passed in a haze of boredom. Sometimes passersby stopped to stare at the slaves, to point and call things out. Miner was grateful he couldn’t understand them.
    They were fed again around midday. Again he drank only some water, even though that woman with ragged hair tried to give him some scraps of food.
    And then the afternoon dragged on, and the evening. Miner mostly sat, trying to shut off his mind. When darkness fell and the slaves began to settle in for the night, the woman crept to his side. She whispered something to