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work.”
    Jesse wondered how he would know any of this. I suppose he just makes it up .
    â€œThe tall one is unusually strong,” the shrew man said, jerking up Silas’ sleeve.
    Jesse winced. Silas had the brand of the Youth Guard on his shoulder, a clearly distinguishable mark of an A enclosed in a broken circle. If the man moves his sleeve up any higher….
    But he didn’t, turning back to the crowd instead. “See those corded muscles?”
    For a while, the shrew man went on like that, praising their many good qualities, downplaying any negatives ones. “See for yourselves,” he invited, gesturing to the two short steps that led up to the platform. “Buyers only,” he added, glaring at a street urchin near the fringes of the crowd who started toward him.
    A few of the servants with the ledgers mounted the platform, followed by four rich men, looking as if it were beneath their dignity to be there at all. They looked at Jesse and Silas, felt their muscles, and examined their skin. It reminded Jesse of what his father had done when he went out to buy a horse or chicken in town.
    One jerked up Silas’ hands, pushing away the edge of the rope from his palms. “Good,” he said, nodding in satisfaction. “Not an escaped thief or murderer. I won’t buy any of them, no matter how low the price.”
    Another lifted up the edge of Jesse’s ragged trouser leg, frowning as he examined the crippled leg. “Can you walk, boy?”
    â€œI assure you,” the shrew said, “all of our slaves are in good condition for any kind of work….”
    The rich man ignored him, turning back to Jesse. “Well?”
    â€œWith my staff, I can,” Jesse replied, not sure if that was the correct answer.
    â€œWon’t be much good,” another rich man said. “Not for anything useful.”
    â€œNo,” the first one disagreed. “I like slaves like this. It’s harder for them to run away.”
    A murmur of agreement rippled through the buyers, and Jesse wondered if that was a good thing. Probably not, he decided. But none of it matters, as long as the four of us stay together. How he was going to manage that as a nameless, crippled slave, he had no idea.
    â€œAll right,” the shrew declared, as the buyers left the platform. “What do I hear for this lot of slaves?”
    â€œTen sceptres,” one of the servants called out.
    â€œI’ll make it fifteen.” It was the rich man who liked slaves who couldn’t run away.
    As the bidding went up, Jesse tried not to look surprised. He had never heard of this much money in all of his life. Most guests at the inn paid in crowns, and he had seen a gold sceptre coin only twice. Then again, I’ve never sold human beings either.
    When the bidding was at twenty sceptres, someone from the back of the crowd shouted, “Thirty-five sceptres!”
    This voice was new, and most of the crowd knew it, because they all turned, craning their necks to spot the newcomer.
    There, leaning casually against the wall of a nearby building, was the foreigner from the alley. If he realized how out of place he looked with his dark skin and loose-fitting, colorful robe in the middle of a mob of grays and browns, he didn’t show it. His easy smile seemed to tell everyone around him that he knew what he was doing.
    At least, that was why Jesse thought no one made another bid. Maybe we just aren’t worth any more.
    â€œSold!” the shrew declared, nodding at his partner. The fat man led Jesse and Silas toward their new master, parting the crowd with a scowl and shaking of his large fist.
    â€œHere you are, sir,” the fat man said, shoving Jesse and Silas toward him. With his hands tied, Jesse could barely grip his walking stick to keep from falling. “Two slaves.”
    The foreigner nodded politely. “Thank you.”
    Now the fat man held out his dirty hand, clearing