Flux

recovering from the horror that was the man’s mouth and wondering if that fate was in store for him as well, the woman began roughly running her hands over his body. Miner tried to squirm away but was unable to, and he blushed even hotter as her small, rough hands smeared some sort of oil over every part of his skin. It smelled slightly bitter and it stung him, too, and he was profoundly grateful when she stopped touching him and stepped back.
    The man released Miner from the chains. He grunted softly at Miner and grabbed him by the bicep, then tugged him toward a door at the opposite end of the building from where he’d entered. A guard was waiting just outside this door; he yanked Miner’s arm away from the slave and took him across a small courtyard and to the wooden stage. Several other men were already waiting on the dirt in front of the platform, their ankles encased in chains affixed to the rough supports. There was also a small smattering of spectators. Miner didn’t know whether they were prospective buyers or simply curious onlookers, but these people peered at Miner and the others with keen interest, chatting at one another and pointing now and then at this slave or that. Most of them seemed quite interested in him, perhaps because he stood out so much with his height and fair coloring. Although it was clear that many of the slaves came from other lands, none were as exotic as he.
    It was uncomfortable to simply stand there, but when one of the slaves started to sit, a guard rushed over and beat him about the back and shoulders with a stick, yelling furiously the whole time. The slave stood up again and none of the others—Miner included—dared to try and sit.
    But they were kept there a long time as more men were brought out from the low building and put into chains, and as the crowd around them gradually grew. One man who was chained near Miner, another foreigner with freckled skin and dull brown hair, tried to say something to the guards. But it wasn’t in their language and they yelled at him, and one of them poked him hard on the chest with a stick. The man was quiet then but he shifted restlessly from foot to foot, his face set in a grimace of discomfort. And then he sighed heavily and took his penis in his hand and urinated onto the ground at the edge of the stage. The onlookers laughed uproariously, but the guards were not amused. They came storming over and began beating the man about his head and shoulders until he was crouched in the puddle of his own piss, his arms held defensively over himself. They didn’t stop until he was unconscious and bleeding on the ground. Then they unchained him and dragged him away by the feet. They probably wouldn’t kill him, Miner thought. Too much a waste of profit.
    The unfortunate foreigner’s place was soon taken by a dark man with empty eyes, and a few more slaves were brought out until about two dozen of them were crowded together on the ground in front of the stage. Most of them stood with their shoulders hunched and their heads bowed, but Miner couldn’t resist a peek or two at the gathering crowd.
    There seemed to be two classes of people. A sizable group of men and women and even children in worn, sturdy clothing. Working people—some of them carrying loads on their backs or in their arms—and they were there purely for entertainment. A woman had set up a cart selling grilled meat on skewers; Miner’s stomach growled at the delicious smell of the food.
    A smaller number of observers were probably there to buy. They stood at the front and didn’t smile or chat or eat. Their gazes were shrewd and appraising, as if they were weighing every fault of the miserable men displayed before them. These people weren’t dressed in finery like the ones who’d bought Sawarna and the others at the last auction. Although their clothing was well-made, it was conservative and functional, and these people had the air of men who worked hard. These were people who owned farms or businesses, and who wanted strong muscle to perform heavy labor. That idea was a bit laughable really, because lack of food and proper sleep and all the other deprivations Miner had recently faced meant he could barely stand upright. He’d collapse at once if he was made to do any work.
    He’d been strong once, long ago. Never heavily muscled like Ennek—gods, Ennek!—but Miner used to be capable of walking up steep hills for miles and miles or toting heavy armaments without