CITY OF THE GODS: FORGOTTEN (34 page)

“Thirteen hundred? That’s a lot, by any measure.”

“Especially when an average slave brings about ninety gold. One with skills like metal working or stone carving can pull a couple of hundred. Once you get over four hundred gold, there has to be something very special or unusual about them. Perhaps this one was a rarely sold race like a centaur or a sphinx. I sold a few of them way back when.” Sergius paused for a moment in remembrance. “But thirteen hundred?
 
For that price, the slave would have to be extremely unique, a one of a kind being, someone with a mystical power or very desirable like a siren or a nymph queen.”

“Is it possible?” D’Molay murmured aloud as he stared off into the distance.

Sergius noticed the serious look on D’Molay face that was out of step with the tone of the conversation. “Wait. You don’t think your girlfriend is this high-ticket slave, do you? You really must be in love this time, D’Molay,” Sergius said sarcastically.

D’Molay bristled at the comment. “No, no. I’m not in love at all... I’m just trying to keep a promise. You’d understand if you met her. She’s different, Sergius. Totally alone, no friends, no knowledge of who she is. Completely vulnerable.” D’Molay leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table as if he were carrying a heavy unseen burden.

“All right then, she’s special and you’re not in love,” Sergius said, but he couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “But something’s going on with you. Look, I’ll ask around and see if I can find anything out. What does she look like anyway?”
 
Sergius leaned back in the chair as the barmaid returned with two more mugs of ale and put them on the table. “Ah, thanks darling,” he said as he smacked her playfully on the behind.
 
She looked back at him with a coy, but annoyed smile on her face.

D’Molay ignored the fresh ale and launched into a description of Aavi. “She’s blonde, about five foot six. She has these blue violet eyes that seem to look right through you, very pale skin.” Sergius was squinting at him as he tried to put the picture of Aavi together in his mind. “She’s very beautiful.
 
Even if my description doesn’t really make her sound that way. She’s strikingly beautiful; I can’t put it in words Sergius.” He looked back at his old friend earnestly.

Sergius raised an eyebrow. “You sure you’re not in love? But seriously, let me ask a couple of the regulars.
 
Wait here.” He stood up, collected the fresh mug and headed over to another table where some other customers were seated.

D’Molay sipped ale as he watched Sergius working the group to see what they would share. He couldn’t really hear them, except for occasional laughter. A couple of minutes later, Sergius parted from the men with a hearty jest and headed back over.

“So, what did you find out?” D’Molay asked hopefully.

“Not a damn thing.” When D’Molay’s face fell sharply, Sergius retracted his declaration. “I’m kidding. From what they said, I think that big sale yesterday might just be your girlfriend,” Sergius said excitedly. “The girl that was sold fits your description. Yellow hair, average height, almost white skin, really good looking. They didn’t say anything about her eyes. But based on what she was wearing, I don’t think anybody was looking at her eyes. She was dressed as a concubine. Rumor has it she was a princess of some far off land. So you owe me one, D’Molay,” he said with an air of supreme confidence as he sat back down.

“I’ll add you to my list. You’re a life saver, Sergius. That’s amazing news - it sounds like her. Where was she sold?”

“Oh, right. She was sold by the High Sulgi, over at Lamasthu’s Temple. It’s down the street. You know the place?” He pointed off toward the east.

“I’ve been there a couple of times over the years, to deliver payments or escort slaves to a new owner, but it’s been a while. Who bought her?” he asked hopefully.
 

Sergius’s shoulders slumped as he answered. “Nah, no luck there. None of them were actually at the auction. It’s just news they heard from other buyers. You can ask them yourself though, come on.”

The two of them walked over. After Sergius vouched for him, the other men were willing to share what they knew. D’Molay asked more questions about how long the beautiful slave had been held at Lamasthu’s Temple, or if they knew how she left, or if they had they heard of a creature named Mordecai. But none of them had those answers. The slavers finished their drinks and left, D’Molay and Sergius trailing after them toward the exit of the Jolly Rajah.

“You’ve been a truly great help today, my friend, more than you can imagine,” D’Molay said, clasping Sergius on his shoulder. “I want you to take this.” He held out a small leather pouch of gold.

“I didn’t help you for money. I don’t want it. That’s not what this is about.” He pushed the bag back into D’Molay’s hand.

“I know. But I want you to have it. Buy a new table with it.” D’Molay looked at his old friend eye to eye, still feeling the kinship that went back to those wild adventures they had years ago.

Sergius took his friend’s hand and grasped it firmly. “All right then, but if you need anything else, you let me know, all right?”

“I promise. I’ll come back and let you know how it all went. And you better have a new table by then.
 
Thanks, Sergius,” D’Molay gave his old friend a hug and a pat on the back, and turned to go.

“I’ll get one then, just so you’ll have to come back to see it. Good luck finding your Aavi.
 
Bring her by, if you get the chance. She must be pretty amazing to get someone to pay all that for her.
 
Be careful out there.
 
Whoever paid that much gold for your friend, isn’t likely to let her go easily.”

As D’Molay headed to the Slavers’ Temple, he felt much like his old self. His burning fever had left him completely and seeing his old friend had reminded him of earlier days, when they would roam the wide streets of the City, enjoying the amazing temples and making new contacts as they carried out anonymous tasks for the gods. Everything seemed new and exciting then. The possibilities seemed endless, but time and experience had taught him the limits of what was possible for a man with no deity to support or protect him.

D’Molay remembered what he had told Aavi about his duties and what some of the gods were like. “Many gods are prideful and narcissistic. They don’t like to admit that they need help from other gods or worse, lesser beings,” he had told her. “Even gods sometimes suffer illnesses or addictions to mystical drugs.” At the time, Aavi hadn’t known what he was talking about. Images of her being tortured, abused, and far worse flashed through his mind. He had to find her.

He reached the walls of the slave market. It was easy to recognize this pit of Lamasthu, as the walls were of a dark green stone with Babylonian carvings. There were also pictographs of slaves being subjugated by their new masters. As he approached the entrance, D’Molay worried about getting in. He soon realized that although there were guards posted, they seemed more ceremonial than anything else. Deities, buyers and even slaves seemed to enter with little questioning. It soon became clear that the true duty of the guards was to check everyone who was leaving, making sure paperwork was presented to prove one had paid for a slave and to make sure the ones departing were not slaves trying to escape. D’Molay walked by them with no problem.

He arrived in a large courtyard paved in flat, grey square bricks. On his right there was a large, cavernous building that looked like a stable, but which he soon realized held slaves. On the other side of the courtyard was a much smaller building, which, as there were horses inside, must be the true stables. In the center was the main building where the buying and selling of slaves actually took place. It had a tall tower made of the same green stone as the outer wall. He supposed the deities that ran this den of inequity lived up there. As he looked at the tower, he saw something and his heart skipped a beat. A large, bat-like creature flew from one upper balcony to another.

“Mordecai?”
 
D’Molay said in disbelief.
 

He rushed into the main building. As it was late in the day, the auction room was almost empty. There were still a few sellers and buyers of slaves in the large chamber making final deals and trades in flesh. D’Molay walked briskly, searching for stairs leading up the tower. Near a bar area, D’Molay saw a set of stairs through an archway in the back wall and headed for them. As he got to the arch, he could see there was a guard posted at the foot of the stairs. He hesitated for a moment and then came up with a plan. Fishing in his pocket, he pulled out his Council emblem. For the most part, it held no real power or authority, but he hoped the guard wouldn’t know that.

The guard was a large, olive-skinned bare-chested man with dark shoulder length hair and a beard and mustache. All his hair, including his beard, was knotted together in small braids. His brown leather kilt was topped with a thick brown silver-studded belt and a strap that ran diagonally across his chest.
 
He held a bronze spear and wore a stern expression. As D’Molay tried to walk past the man and go up the stairs, the spear suddenly appeared in front of his face. “No one is allowed upstairs.”

“Really? Well I’ve been sent here by the Council to investigate the sale of illegally obtained slaves. I have questions that need answers,” he said in an authoritative tone of voice, then flashed the Council emblem at the guard.

The guard was taken by surprise, but held his ground. “I have orders from the High Sulgi. No one goes up without permission.”

“Then get someone I can speak with down here,” D’Molay said aristocratically.

The guard looked around quickly to see if there was anyone to whom he could turn over this problem. He was in luck. Walking toward them down the hallway was one of the High Sulgi’s most trusted slaves. “Es-huh, over here. I have need of you.”

Es-huh came over to the guard. “Yes, what can this one do to help?”

“This man wants to go upstairs and ask questions.”
 

D’Molay again brandished the Council medallion. “I am D’Molay the Tracker. I have been sent here to inquire about a slave sold here who was called a Princess. She may have been taken and sold when she should not have been,” D’Molay said.

Es-huh’s eyes grew wide with surprise. “Princess? She is all right, yes?”

He noted the concern in the woman’s face which. “What do you know of her?”

She looked nervously at him, her large brown eyes a mix of worry and curiosity. “I - I do not know if it is my place to speak of such things.” An odd expression crossed Es-huh’s face as if she were trying to remember something that nibbled at the edge of her memory.
 
Somehow this man’s name seemed vaguely familiar. “Princess was brought here by Mordecai, winged servant of Lamasthu. I know not how he found her.
 
You would have to ask the High Sulgi.”

D’Molay wanted to get to the creature and not waste time, “I would rather ask Mordecai directly.
 
I saw the creature up on the top balcony as I arrived. Take me there and I’ll get my answers from him. Only he truly knows how he found the girl.”

The guard and Es-huh exchanged glances and said something to each other in their own native tongue.
 
Finally the guard stepped aside and withdrew his spear and looked off into the distance, ignoring both Es-huh and D’Molay.

“Please, you follow me,” Es-huh said as she beckoned to him up the stairs.

As they climbed the stairs, D’Molay attempted to get the woman to tell him more about Aavi. “So, how was Princess treated while here? Was she beaten often?”

“Beaten?
 
Oh no... Princess was special to High Sulgi. He kept her safe, even away from other slaves,” Es-huh exclaimed defensively.

“I see. It sounds like you knew Princess well,” he queried as they started up the third floor staircase.

“I like her very much. She was most gentle. I trained her for auction and even dressed her.”

D’Molay smiled warmly and let a comment slip. “Yes, she doesn’t know much about putting on clothing.”

Es-huh’s eyes opened wide. “You do know Princess!”

He decided it was time to be frank. “I do. And it’s my fault she ended up a slave. That’s why I’m trying to find her. She was brought here wrongly by Mordecai. That’s why I must talk to him. I’m trying to make things right for her,” he said earnestly.