“Illi, I would not have figured you for the domestic life,” said Baza, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “How can you stomach the quiet after hearing the cheering crowds in the arena?” “Those crowds only wanted blood and death,” Illi replied. The big man stepped closer to the slave-catcher, towering over his … Read more
The three slave-catchers stayed the night at the crossroads house. They regaled the throng of local farmers and foot-weary merchants with tales of their dangerous exploits. Baza told of the time a wiry, young escaped slave had seized his then-long hair from behind. Lowering his collar, he revealed a thin, white scar along his throat—a … Read more
“You’re far from the first flesh-mongers to make their way through here,” the old man said to the three cloaked figures looming over him on the threshold of the common house. “A crossroads house like this sees all kinds.” “What makes you think we are slavers?” asked the shortest of the figures. “Your horses are … Read more