"There. That one will do, I guess. Bring him to me."
A new voice, a new customer for the Master it seems. This one sounds different. More refines than the normal patrons who come to see the Master. Still being here did not say much for them, not really. He wondered which of them will be taken this time. One of the older ones maybe? Or perhaps one of the younger, more fit for labor. Both were often gone quickly, everyone seemed to need them. But ones like him? Never taken. Always left behind, the dregs of a woeful lot. Not really a surprise in his case, he was too weak to be of much use. No one coming in here would be seeking a weak slave, after all.
He was small, worn thin. His skin pulled tight across his body, showing his ribs clearly. It also showed how little he ate. Scars adorned his back, speared across his arms and legs in crisscross patterns. Each a loving Gift from the Master, brought on by the lash of his whip. One of the weakest of the lot, he suffered the Master's anger often. If one did not earn coin for him, what else would they be of use for?
Bruises some purple and fresh, others sickly yellow showing they were healing, spoke of his battles with others within the cage walls. He fought viciously to survive, to feed and live, but was always beaten down. He was weak. More pain always followed these brawls, for he could have damaged the more valuable merchandise, which always angered Master. Someday he would die here, he knew that already. His fate was to be the whipper, the scapegoat for all the others, one who had no escape.
Still, he wondered, who would this… customer choose? Most likely a new boy. The bigger stronger ones, who still had fresh strength on their frame. Who had not yet been broken by the hell of this pit. Or would it be the elder after all? Those veterans of service who had served others before until their deaths sent them here again. Personally, he hoped it was one of the boys. They did not like him, and the feeling was mutual. Always taking the chance to knock him around, especially at feeding time, they took cruel delight in starving him. The others as well. Those boys had gluttonous appetites, starving all but the strongest who could stand against them. Everyone else got scraps. He would not be sorry to see them gone, more food for him. Besides the old ones, they helped him. Tended him when he fell ill or was wounded. Without them… he would be even weaker, and likely beaten for it.
A sickening thought struck him. Could it be the children? One of the little ones who cried so much at night. They wept, begging for their families, pleading to go home. All were too young to realize the truth, and the older ones would not speak of it. Most of their families were gone, or worse, had sold them here. Too many times debts must be paid in the outside world, and the Master was always happy to take a child to pay a debt. He hoped it was not one of them, he had heard things. So many stories traveled to the cage of the children's fates. People…were not kind to them.
The guards opened the doors of the cell. Everyone backed away, cowering towards the shadows. Except for him and one of the other new boys. The new boy bellowed, swinging a fist at them. In a trice, the heavy thuds of cudgels striking flesh sounded, and the boy fell, limp, to the floor. He however had more sense than that. Hunkering down, he curled close to the floor, keeping his head down. They would not harm him like this, he had learned long ago. Not unless he looked up at them. For if they saw his eyes, he would be beaten. They did not like his gaze.
They passed by, pushing him roughly as they did so, nearly knocking him over. Behind him, chains rattled and locks clicked open. Sigh… not him again. Another taken, one of the newer ones it seemed. Again, not him. But why should he even hope? It was cruel that he did so, and hurt each time. For now, he was stuck in hell still. Ah well, he was used to it, so why not? Home sweet home after all.
"STOP" The voice of the new customer rang out, a quick shout. Instantly the guards stopped, frozen in their tracks. Odd, no other patron had ever gotten them to stop like that. The oily voice of Master was there in a flash. A hissing drone, dripping with flattery, spoke to his customer.
"Do you have a different product in mind my Lord? I assure you, this is one of my freshest - and finest - specimens. Quite powerful too, if I may say. Three of my… Associates, lost their lives bringing him in." Product… such a nice term. Showed easily how he thought about us. But fair enough, we were slaves, not people after all.
"Yes," The man replied. " Bring me that one right there. Bring him NOW!" That last word came out harsh and grating. Filled with authority, and even more. It was filled with power. The very air stirred as it rang out, and the weight of it hit him like a blow. The guards reacted instantly, without the Master's order. Clanks of chains came from behind him, accompanied by whimpers, showing the poor soul had been re-chained. Who was the new target, he wondered? Locks clinked, Chains rattled, Then grew slack. It couldn't be… It was him?!
The iron cuffs on his wrists hit the floor with a metallic thud, the clanking chains echoing behind as they fell. Gripping him tightly by the arms, they hauled him roughly to his feet. Half walking, half dragging him out of the cage, they threw him down at the Master's feet. In front of his eyes were their shoes. One set plain, but gaudy at the same time, Thick soled with heavy caps on the toes for kicking, these were the Masters. The others… what could be seen of them was simple. Plain white, the toes peeked out beneath a black robe that railed a hair above the floor. One of them twitched, and the man's voice sounded in his ears again.
"On your feet child, stand up straight. Let me have a proper look at you." His voice was quiet now, not at all like when he had boomed earlier. But it still had an air of power, though much more restrained, more gentle. He became aware of his body moving, complying on its own. Knees curled to the floor, arms bent upward. He was kneeling, no now standing before them. He was careful to keep his gaze on the floor. The last time a patron had seen his eyes, he had run. The Master had nearly killed him that day. No mistakes, No, not this time.
He heard the man walk slowly around him. Could feel his gaze, knowing he saw all the marks of captivity that marked him. Could hear the rustling of the robes as they swirled around his feet, finishing his circuit. He would be sent back, he knew it. This was just some game being played, a taste of hope, then a beating. He had seen this before after all, and it had cost that slave their life.
"How long have you had this one? Just what have you used him for? His shape… it's deplorable! Do you even feed him?" Shock filtered through him numbly. He was questioning Master? What was this?
"Ahhh my apologies sir. If he does not meet expectations, I did tell you the other was finer. All my stock is quality - Other than this one. If memory recalls, I've had him for oh, ten years now. His mother was one of mine, sold to me pregnant. She actually gave birth to him here, before she succumbed to death. I've had him ever since. As for uses," Master shrugged nonchalantly " Look at him! He's a whipper, no good for anything else. Quite a good one too. Any other would be dead by now."
The man growled in his throat, a deep rumble reverberating around the chamber. Master hushed at once, sliding back in what could only be fearful respect. The man took hold of the boy's chin and forced his face up. Panic flared in him, as he slammed his eyes shut. "Look at me." The words washed over him, waves of power cascading into his mind. He complied instantly, against his own will.
He took in the man's face. Old, With Iron gray hair shorn close. Tanned skin that was weather-beaten, with a stern face. A single scar ran from below his right eye, to his lip. He took all this in at a moment's glance before the man's eyes caught him. The color of Amber, they bore into his own with intensity. He waited, knowing that shock or revulsion would skate across them before long. His eyes made him a freak. Red-gold in color, they sometimes glowed like coals. None could stand them.
Instead, he saw none of it. He felt things though. A throbbing pulse deep in his gut, beating in time with his heart. It seemed like a warmth spread from there, throughout his entire body, what was this? The man smiled then, and an echo of the pulse seemed to come from him. None of this put him at ease, now he was warier of the stranger. He stilled his face back to its stern expression and turned to speak to the Master once more.
"If that is what you think, perhaps it's best I take him with me" a glance over at him again was filled with concern for a second, " before something happens that would be most regrettable."
"Ahhh certainly my Lord. We can discuss it if you're sure." Master hissed, his oily voice slick with the excitement of a sale. "I will not deny I shall be happy to part with him finally, Though I'll have to find a new whipper now… that will be costly, oh yes indeed it will be."
They haggled for a bit, and he stood there dumbfounded at what was happening. Could it be true? Was he finally about to leave this place? He…he would see outside! The haggling was now done. The man, no, the new Master, paid him and beckoned for him to follow.
He fell in behind him dutifully, still in a daze of disbelief. One step behind, towards the door, always one step behind. The door swung wide, creaking under their bulk. Light poured in through the opening. Blinding the Boy, he smiled at the warmth, as he stepped out into a new world.