Chapter 7
Khadora
Despite the rule of silence in the slave convoy, there were muttered exclamations as the wagons descended out of the Fortung Mountains into Khadora. For the Fakaran prisoners who had spent their lives in a barren wasteland, the lush fields of Khadora were a sight to behold. The height of the mountains afforded a panoramic view of a nation blessed with fertile soil and thriving commerce. From their high vantage point, the slaves were afforded views of barges traveling down the Khadora River and colorful wagon conveys traversing the roads. The barges were loaded with livestock and produce and one could only imagine the contents of the wagons. Even the air smelled sweeter on the Khadoran side of the mountains and many of the slaves wore smiles of excitement and appeared to forget their bondage.
“With all of this wealth in Khadora,” Rejji whispered, “why would Brontos waste his time coming to Fakara? What do we have to offer that could not be found here?”
“I would suspect there is more profit in supplying things where the items are not plentiful,” responded Mistake. “The goods you see moving on those barges are certainly plentiful here. I guess they are also cheap here.”
“But not in Fakara,” Rejji added. “And the shark’s teeth from my village could not be found here at all I bet. So he makes his gold by transporting goods where they are plentiful and common to areas that lack them.”
“Makes sense,” Mistake agreed. “I wonder what our lives would have been like if we had been born in a paradise like this.”
“From what Brontos said,” Rejji replied, “not everything is paradise here. Do not forget that we are to be sold as slaves.”
“Not for long,” promised Mistake. “I will run away the first chance I get. I am sure I can make a living somehow on my own.”
“I wonder how,” frowned Rejji.
“I will do what I must to survive,” declared Mistake. “Would you do any differently?”
“I could envision myself as a merchant in this land,” sighed Rejji. “Remember what Brontos said though. Everyone belongs to a clan here. They will kill you if you are caught escaping.”
“They will have to catch me first,” retorted Mistake.
“Quiet,” shouted one of the slavers.
The noise from the slaves ceased but everyone clung to the rungs of the cage and peered at the landscape as the caravan progressed. The whole morning and most of the afternoon was spent traveling down from the mountains and late in the afternoon, the convoy turned off the road to enter an estate. Soldiers in white uniforms with blue waistbands, armbands and headbands stopped the wagons. After a short pause, the convoy continued down a smaller road with large fields of wasooki on each side.
Rejji watched in wonder as they continued down the road and fields, rich in the green splendor of some type of vegetable, replaced the fields of wasooki. Buildings started to appear after a while and people working in the fields. When the vegetable fields faded, smaller fields with clova in them appeared and Rejji shot a look at Bakhai who had moaned audibly. Rejji moved his seat to sit next to Bakhai as the caravan turned in front of a large mansion and stopped.
“Are you sick?” Rejji whispered. “I heard you moan.”
Bakhai shook his head. “The wasooki looked wonderful,” he said, “but those clova are dying.”
Rejji tried to look back at the clova fields, but they were no longer visible. The slavers appeared at the back of the wagon and unlocked the door and ordered everyone out. The slaves were ordered to stand in a straight line and Rejji ended up being separated from both Bakhai and Mistake. Slaves from the other wagons were also being lined up and three people came out of the mansion and greeted the head slaver. Rejji was close enough to hear the introductions. He learned that the name of the tall, lean slave master was Mulando. The man in the military uniform was Marshal Ulmreto of the Pikata clan and the other two were Bursar Wicado and Seneschal Trang.
Each of the Pikata people inspected the slaves. From their comments they were not thrilled with the quality of the slaves. They complained about the age and fitness of the slaves and generally acted disinterested. The only one to inspect Rejji was Marshal Ulmreto. He sized Rejji up as Wyant had when he joined the Zaldoni, but the Marshal was not impressed and moved on down the line.
Mistake was the only slave chosen when the Seneschal picked her out, after learning that the girl could read and write. The Seneschal and Mulando went off to one side and started bickering about the price for Mistake as the other slavers started putting the slaves back in the wagons. Rejji grew frantic at the thought of being separated from Mistake and tried to figure out what skills he could proclaim to have so that he would be chosen to stay with her. He hung his head in defeat as the slavers gathered up the slaves for his wagon and started to herd them back in.
As the slaver grabbed his arm to push him into the wagon, Rejji said, “Wait.”
The slaver hesitated a moment and Rejji turned to him. “I think I can sell a few more of us if you give me the chance.”
The slaver stared at him strangely for a moment and then started to push Rejji in, when another slaver spoke, “Why not give him a chance? The quicker we get rid of them, the sooner we can get out of this country.”
The slaver with his arm on Rejji hesitated again. He pulled Rejji back out of the wagon. “If you are thinking of doing something to make fools of us,” he warned, “I will make you very sorry.”
“No,” promised Rejji. “This place looks very nice to me and I think I can convince them that we have talents they can use. I am tired of living in a cage. I would rather be a slave here than continue riding. I promise I will try my best.”
“What talents do you have?” the slaver asked.
The commotion was starting to draw attention and Rejji looked around for the Marshal, but he had already left. He still hadn’t figured out what talents he could profess to have, but an idea popped into his head. He saw Bursar Wicado staring at him and the slaver and boldly walked over to him.
“Bursar, Sir,” Rejji said respectfully, “there is one in the wagon with me who can help you a great deal.”
The slaver Rejji had slipped away from came up behind him and Rejji could hear the man growling, but the Bursar looked amused.
“And you have great knowledge of what my needs are?” smiled the Bursar. “I suppose you ran an estate of your own in Fakara?”
Rejji shook his head. “No, Sir,” Rejji said, “but I know that your clova are very sick and in danger of dying. I also know one of the slaves who can help you with that problem.”
“Is that so?” the Bursar questioned as his eyebrows rose. “You are familiar with raising clova?”
“No, Sir,” smiled Rejji. “I am a merchant, but that doesn’t stop me from observing things. One of the slaves remarked on the good quality of your wasooki, but was astonished at the poor quality of your clova. He expects they will die if not cared for. He has a way with animals that is quite miraculous.”
“I am sorry Bursar for this display of rudeness,” the slaver behind Rejji intoned as he grabbed Rejji by the shoulder. “I will throw him back in the wagon.”
“No,” interrupted the Bursar. “I am interested in this animal healer. Leave this boy here too. I wish to learn more of him.”
The slaver looked genuinely surprised and asked Rejji whom the Bursar was requesting. Rejji described Bakhai and the slaver set off to get him.
“What type of merchant were you in Fakara?” the Bursar asked.
“I traded many things,” Rejji stated, “but I controlled the only supply of petrified shark’s teeth in Fakara. “I presume you have seen them for sale here in Khadora. I traded exclusively with Brontos of Khadora.”