Market day came once a week in the city.

It was always the time the city seemed most alive, when everyone poured into the inner market to buy supplies to get them through another week. The latest gossip would be exchanged and by nightfall everyone would know about the heir to the throne's latest mishap, or the king's latest affair.

Though it often felt stressful and rushed to an outsider, to the people who lived there, that one day a week was their rock. It steadied them and prepared them for another week doing tedious job they worked at to make a living.

For three weeks out of the month, market day was for the common people, middle class, and servants of the rich. However, the fourth market day of every month belonged to the rich and upper class. This was the day when the slave sellers came to town, and it was time for slaves to be bought, traded, and sold.

It was not forbidden to the lower class to go to market on slave day, but not one of them would ever consider going. The slaves plight was too close to their own, and many could too easily see themselves in one of the many pens.

To be said in defense of the slave buyers and sellers, the system was well organized and carefully controlled, if it was not exactly humane.

Pens were erected in the streets surrounding the large central square three nights beforehand, in order to give the slave sellers time to settle in and start the process of before-auction buying. Slave sellers paid for space, so some of the wealthier ones rented three or four pens and separated slaves by gender, race, age, and all manner of discriminating factors. Other, smaller operations, simply bought one or maybe two pens, and used their own barricades to separate them out, or kept the slaves perpetually tied. It was unheard of to let them mingle, and the sign of an amateur slave runner to do so.

The central square was the place where the auction took place, and large numbers of people would gather. Most did not have the intention of buying, but they never saw any harm in looking. Actually, most of the slaves that made it to auction were the ones passed over in the three days before the actual auction. Eight-tenths of all slave buying took place in private bargains. Individuals would walk around the pens and inquire about different slaves, eager sellers always willing to drag one out and put him or her through a series of rigorous tests. The mentality was much like a horse fair. The slaves were not people, and some would be treated worse than the aforementioned horses.

It was in October, on the fourth market day, that John Metcalf rode into town. He was known as the best slave runner, but he only came to town three times a year. The rest of the time he was away in the eastern lands where no else dared venture, trading slaves with the tribes who controlled the lands. They would sell their own people for treasures from the Western Sea, and because they were competent workers, if willful, buyers were always eager for Metcalf to come to town.

This particular time he had faired especially well in the Eastern Lands. There was a multi-tribal war on, and everyone was eager to trade their prisoners in exchange for weapons. He had ended up with well over a hundred and fifty slaves, a score or more having died en route. Also having fared well monetarily – for those who could not trade for weapons had eagerly bought them – he was able to rent a whole street of pens, fifteen in all. Two days before auction he was ready to sell, a banner at the top of the street proclaiming his name in swirling silvers and cerulean blues.

By the time auction day rolled around he had fewer than thirty slaves left, the extremely young, old, sickly, or willful. It was a motley collection, the various skin colors clashing as they waited in the auction line. The deep ebony, almost black, of the far east people, the cinnamon color of those who lived on the tropical isles, the dusky coffee-milk color of those from further north, and the deep stained brown of the desert people, all in one place.

As the slaves were quickly snapped up – for though they were the leftovers, Metcalf stock was still admired – it became clear why some had been passed over. One young girl sobbed constantly, clutching a ragged doll to her chest. Another young man gazed with sullen, dead eyes at the crowd, a broken and useless worker. Some bore the marks of whips across their backs and shoulders, clear indications of a problem maker. Others were merely injured in some freak accident: a middle-aged woman with a festering leg wound, two who were blind in at least one eye, a man who was missing several fingers, one missing an ear, and another with a some kind of skin infection.

As one young man mounted the stage steps a whisper passed back among those assembled. "Eunuch," they muttered to each other, and everyone became more interested. The auctioneer made him spin and open his mouth to display his lack of a tongue. This made him more valuable, a eunuch who also couldn't tell his master's secrets.

The boy could not have been more than sixteen, but he was made to walk around the stage with his hands bound in front of him as the auctioneer goaded him to try and talk, laughing loudly when he failed. Finally his torment was over, when he was sold to a wealthy man with three wives in need of more eunuch servants.

The last Metcalf slave was a young woman. As they had for the eunuch, the crowd stood straighter and the air seemed to become heavy with intrigue.

Despite her ragged clothing, bound hands, and disheveled hair she was stunningly beautiful. As some in the crowd muttered, she was too beautiful. No one could ever remember seeing such a slave come through, for who would give her up to be sold? Why had Metcalf not kept her?

The wealthiest in the crowd were already planning how much they were willing to spend to acquire her, eyeing the others of their circle, trying to decide who would be the most competition, when she ascended the stairs. She stared out over the crowd, her eyes defiant and contemptuous, her posture dignified, and a collective gasp ran through the square. Never before had such a girl been seen. As the bidding started, all thoughts of some kind of spending limit flew from the participants' minds. They must have this girl.