Jess had been cleaned up some for this first port, and the stool and bucket had been removed so as not to repulse prospective buyers, but no one gave her a second look.Jess had been cleaned up some for this first port, and the stool and bucket had been removed so as not to repulse prospective buyers, but no one gave her a second look. The ship moved on. At least she had the comfort of knowing that all of her people were still aboard; none had left in another slaver's coffle, but that would not last. The second port admitted an even larger number of slavers aboard ship, several of whom Jess recognized. None recognized her, try as she did to get their attention. The ever-watchful captain disregarded her efforts as a slave's pathetic attempts to sell herself with no auctioneer. A number of slavers looked at her from a distance with no recognition. Her hair had been cut short in anticipation of her sale to a gladiatorial arena, and without her hair, clothing, belt and ever-present weaponry, few gave her a second look, even if they could recognize her through the metal and leather on her face. None bothered to approach for a better look at the scarred and unattractive female chained to the mast. None, that is, save one. Varge One-Ear, a muscle-bound mound of quarter-blood ogre-- if reports on his ancestry were accurate--came over for a better look. His attitude and reputation matched his appearance and he was a long-time rival of Jess's who bore her no love whatsoever. He constantly trod the fine line that would result in his being barred from the Slaver's Division, and Jess, a member in excellent standing, had tried to begin procedures to do just that on a number of occasions. He swaggered up to her, chewing on an apple and sneered, his ugly mouth oozing with food. |