Flux

tiring. He used to toss Marsa up in the air and catch her over and over again, until they were both nearly overcome with laughter and Eudoxia had scolded him not to overexcite the baby or she’d never settle in to sleep. The year before he’d met Camens, Miner had spied a beautifully carved chest for sale at the market. It was brightly painted with fantastic creatures, and he’d known the moment he had spied it that his mother would love it. The chest had cost him every last coin he had on him—even that, only with vigorous bargaining—and so he couldn’t hire a carriage to take it home. He’d had to heft the thing onto his shoulder and carry it all the way himself but he had managed, and his mother had been so very pleased.
    Now he was so weak.
    When had his strength left him? Not when he was separated from Ennek, not when the pirates had taken him, not even when he’d been forced into Stasis. No, his weakness had begun the night he’d held Camens’ long hair back as Camens vomited, and then cleaned him up and allowed Camens to seduce him, knowing that Camens was drunk, knowing he was betraying his wife, knowing that the consequences of permitting this to happen could only be dire. But Camens was beautiful and Miner had become infatuated with him months earlier, and instead of holding fast and refusing Camens—which Miner could have done without repercussions—he’d given in.
    Miner didn’t deserve the things that had happened to him since that night. He had transgressed, of course, but not enough to merit three centuries of torture or enslavement or the way his heart was ripped from his body over Ennek’s loss. But still, deserved or not, his fate had been his own making and it was the result of his weakness.
    Gods, he was tired of being weak.
    As Miner drooped further, nearly lost in these gloomy thoughts, one of the guards had started a fire in a brick pit not far from the stage. Next to the pit, a sturdy metal pole stuck out of the ground. The pole had a pair of manacles attached to it and a hook and chain at about neck height. Miner didn’t like the look of it at all.
    But then a different guard approached the stage and unlocked the slave at one end of it, and as he did so, the man who seemed to be in charge climbed the steps to the top of the platform. The crowd hushed. The guard pushed the slave until he mounted the stage as well, and the man—the auctioneer, Miner realized—pulled him close by the upper arm. The auctioneer issued a series of commands and the slave obediently turned around, then turned back to face the audience and lifted his arms, then squatted for a few moments before being told to stand again. He did this all smoothly as if he’d done it before. Then auctioneer used a staff to poke a bit at the slave’s chest and thighs before the bidding began.
    There didn’t seem to be much competition over this man, but then he was not as young as most of the others. His back bore many old scars, the signs of past beatings and years of hard work. He was still wiry, though, and likely had some use left in him. He was sold rather quickly to a portly man with a scraggly beard. Then he was led off the stage and the next man for sale took his place.
    Miner didn’t watch the next sale, though; instead, his eyes followed the first slave, who was grasped at the elbow by a guard and hurried along to the fire. His wrists were fastened inside the manacles and the chain was attached to his collar and tightened so that he wouldn’t be able to move his neck or upper body at all. The guard who was tending the fire held a long metal rod in the flames for a few moments and the slave finally showed some signs of struggle; but it was too late. The guard walked around and held the heated end of the rod to the slave’s upper back. The slave screamed and Miner could smell the sickly scent of burning flesh.
    Fortunately it lasted only seconds. Then the guard lowered the rod, revealing a squiggly design branded into the man’s skin. The guard quickly smeared some sort of ointment on the wound, which made the slave moan with pain, and then unchained him. The owner hooked a leash to his new purchase’s collar and dragged him away.
    Miner had suffered many indignities in this place and he’d seen other captives exposed to even worse. But somehow this one act—the searing of a mark into a human being’s body as if that human were nothing but cattle—this one act set his mind. Perhaps it made him so