Many Roads Home by Ann Somerville Page B

work out what might be happening, though he’d done his best not to fuel her anxiety. Her clan had told her stories of the slavers, and now those had become her reality.
    The slavers drove the cart to an area where a lot of people stood around with pieces of paper in their hands. Yveni had no idea why or who they were. They all looked as miserable as the children, yet none were chained, so presumably they weren’t slaves or prisoners. He felt like shouting Gerd’s favourite line about “it could be worse” at them, but he didn’t.
    He and the children were unloaded from the cart and made to stand in a line while one of the slavers examined them, tidying hair and straightening tunics. When he reached Yveni, he gripped his chin.
    “Now listen to me, boy.” He spoke in Tetu, his voice low and harsh. “You keep your mouth shut unless a customer asks you a direct question, and that answer of yours better be the right one, or else…” He twisted Yveni’s head and made him look at a building near to them with rather luxurious curtains at the windows. “That’s the town brothel. They’re always looking for pretty little boys, like that Tilin you’re so fond of. You speak out of turn and the brat goes straight there. Got me?”
    “Yes.”
    “Good. You can read and write, you’re Uemirien, and you’re fifteen. Say anything else and I’ll do what I threatened.”
    Yveni put all the hate he felt for this bastard into his glare. The man only sneered and walked to the other end of the line.
    If only the loathsome creature appreciated the irony. Yveni would have had to lie anyway, now he was on Karvin soil. Until he could escape this country, he couldn’t reveal who he was or where he came from. All the slaver had done was give him fresh reason to worry about the fate of the children. How could people like that sleep at night?

Chapter Eleven
     
    The labour market turned out to be as hopeless as Paole feared. No one under the age of twenty was available at all, and even if he could have persuaded someone older to try the trade, almost none could read and write. Those who could, didn’t appeal for other reasons.
    Desperation threatened to overwhelm him. He could not live alone any more. He couldn’t. The only other choice was to give up the cabin and move permanently to a village—not to Dadel, not with Sheriff Rolf. But there would be Sheriff Rolfs everywhere he went, and those who’d known Mathias would not be there to support him.
    Dispirited, he decided to leave the town, move on to the next sooner than he’d planned. But the cry of a small child caught his attention and he turned, looking past the labourers for hire. A cart had pulled up while he’d been at the bank, and in front of it…
    Oh no .
    Only twice in the years since Mathias had owned him had they been in Kivnic when the slaves were on sale. Both times, Mathias had sent Paole on an errand away from the square to spare his feelings.
    Now the only one who could spare those was himself. Yet his feet didn’t turn away from the pitiful little group waiting their turn after the labour market ended. He walked towards them, his heart racing. Could he…maybe buy them all? There weren’t so many this time.
    A big, broken-toothed Karvi blocked his approach. “Do you have business with us?”
    “The…the children. You’re selling them?”
    “That’s right. All legal, as you know.” He looked Paole up and down as if he could work out his history just by his appearance.
    “H-how much? For all of them?”
    “You can’t afford them.”
    “I asked, how much?”
    “And I said, you can’t afford them. I got buyers lined up, regular customers. Only one on free offer is the boy at the end. He’s a bit old for my regulars. He’s fifteen, not new to slavery. Can read and write. Has a bit of an attitude, but I’m sure a gentleman like yourself could sort that out.”
    “How much?”
    The man smiled but there was little friendliness in it. “Well,