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to Ronan Dell. “He was unavoidably detained,” he explained. “He sent me in his place.”
    The fat slaver seemed unimpressed. “I could sell your brother a dozen times over for the number of offers I’ll get for you, Fool.”
    “I can’t be held responsible for things beyond my control, Master Venira,” he shrugged with an ingenuous smile.
    Venira picked up another grape and treated it to the same torment as the first one. “I hear there was trouble at Lord Ronan’s place today.”
    “Really?”
    “They say he’s dead.”
    “What a shame.”
    Venira studied Elezaar closely. “They say the assassins killed all the slaves in the house, too.”
    “What a pity.”
    Venira’s eyes narrowed. “Including your brother.”
    “I’m heartbroken.”
    “I can tell.” The slaver leaned back on his cushions. “Who did it?”
    “Who did what?”
    “Who murdered Ronan Dell?”
    “I have no idea, Master Venira. Lord Ronan sent me on an errand early this morning and by the time I got back to the house they were all dead. Crysander had enough breath left in him to tell me to come here in his place. That’s all I know.”
    “You’re lying.”
    “I don’t know who killed them, Master Venira.”
    “And even if you did, you’d never admit it.” The slaver smiled slyly. “You may prove to be worth more than I first thought, Fool. Perhaps I’ll holdan auction for the last remaining survivor of the Dell massacre. I wonder what will bring the higher price? Your testimony or your silence?”
    “I have nothing to tell, Master Venira. I saw nothing. I know nothing.”
    “So you claim,” Venira scoffed. He shifted his bulk on the cushions and waved another slave forward. “Take him to the compound. See he’s fed, bathed and clothed appropriately. Get rid of that Dell collar he’s wearing and put a plain one on him. The little man may actually be worth something this time.”
    “You got a fortune selling me to Ronan Dell the last time,” Elezaar pointed out.
    “And you’d better be worth even more now, Fool. I’m sick of all the trouble you cause me.”
    “Perhaps next time my master and his household are butchered, I could arrange to be one of the victims,” Elezaar suggested helpfully. “So you’re not put to any more trouble.”
    “You do that,” the slaver agreed and then he waved his arm and Elezaar was taken away.
    The slaves at Venira’s Emporium were not mistreated. Although left in no doubt about their status in life, Venira was too aware of the value of his merchandise to risk damage by beating or starving them. They were quite well catered for, in fact, one of the reasons Elezaar had decided to risk coming here. If this night was to be his last, at least he would spend it in relative comfort.
    After his ablutions he ate a plain but nourishing meal of meat, cheese, bread and watered wine, and then he was led into the slave cells. Dherin locked Elezaar in a bare cell separated by bars from his neighbours. In the cell on his right was a handsome boy of about twenty with smooth olive skin and dark eyes who looked him over with interest.
    “I’m Lorince,” the
court’esa
announced, walking to the bars to examine Elezaar more closely in the gloom. The only light in the cells was provided by a torch in the hall and its flickering light was mediocre at best.
    “Elezaar,” the dwarf replied, offering the young man his hand through the bars. “You been here long?”
    “A bit over a month. Venira says the market’s slow this time of year.”
    “What brought you here?”
    “Same old story,” Lorince shrugged. “I was the
court’esa
of the youngest daughter of Lord Caron’s House in Meortina. She got married. Her new husband only trusted his own slaves. Happens all the time.”
    “Mine fell in love,” the slave in the cell on Elezaar’s left remarked. The young man was lying on his bunk, his hands folded behind his head. “It’s a real bitch when that happens. Nothing you can do about