The caravan moved at a relaxed pace, rolling gently over the bumps in the road. It was a slave caravan, and judging from the two wagons and the fit-to-burst cage on wheels, it was a profitable one.
The day was mostly cloudy with patches of warm sunlight sifting through, but dark clouds on the horizon showed that the weather would be a lot less pleasant as the course of the day went by. Even now, a drop or two could be felt by somebody walking outside of the shelter of the wagons.
"Move along, now. Ain't got all day, ya daft lout."
Morze threw an indignant look over his shoulder, making sure his tone left little to the imagination. "I'd move a little faster if you hadn't clapped in chains, sir."
Though he got cuffed hard in the ear for his sass, he couldn't help but smile a little. That was the first reaction he had been able to get out of the man in hours.
Three days prior, Morze had been minding his business on some shoreline or another, he wasn't sure exactly where, when he heard a cry of distress. There was a little girl in the ocean, flailing and sputtering. In the heat of the moment the fact that the girl was human, that she floated well for somebody who was drowning, and that she seemingly came out of nowhere didn't register to him. One thing led to another and, before he knew it, he was caught up in a fishing net by this man... a slaver named Caesar Barrios. The girl of course, had been a decoy.
It would have been fine had he not shifted back to human form. Seemed like a good idea at the time, he would be able to explain himself. In retrospect, it's what got him landed miles and miles from shore and the salty depths his body ached for. Caesar, being a man of the sea, had recognized Morze for what he was pretty quickly, and stolen his skin without hesitation.
At least I'm popular with him, Morze thought glumly as he glanced back at the giant cage on wheels. I'd be doing a lot less well in that thing. He looked down at the rags he had been given to wear. And I'm not romping around in the nude.
"We're still about half a day away from Ketra. If you keep talking, boy, you're not going to fetch a very good price in the market, so do us both a favor and shut your damn trap."
Morze tried hard not to let his smile spread, and tried even harder not to retort. Men had treated him like this before, he fully grasped the situation he was in. Attitude was tantamount to a hard beating. "Yes, sir." was all he replied with, trying to sound sincere without being sarcastic. A boot to the ass showed Morze that his captor had thought the latter.
The physical descriptions of Caesar's followers were hard to pinpoint; they were all pretty plain, nondescript folks, five of them.. Caesar on the other hand was very recognizable. Besides his flair for the garish, his person was decked out in bright clothing in hues of red and blue, and he sported a thick black mustache that reminded Morze of the bristles on a sea urchin. Morze had given lip to Caesar at first in regards to his mustache, and Morze was still recovering from the black eye he had been given for the remark.
Caesar wasn't hard to figure out. He liked abuse. He liked drinking. He liked women, especially 'testing out' the 'merchandise' that he planned on selling. More than those three, he loved coin.
Morze let out a small, contented sigh as he felt rain fall in a steady sprinkle. His skin felt parched, and the moisture, sea water or not, was soothing to him. Yes, he had been in situations like this before, but he was sure he would get out of it like he always did. And Caesar would get what was coming to him.
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The night was pitch black by the time they reached Ketra. One of Caesar's men had questioned the wisdom of traveling at night, but after a brief physical altercation he relented that maybe it would be a better idea to make the trip at night.
Within the first hour of entering Ketra, the caravan was holed up in a seedy bar near the edge of town. Caesar was disappointed they couldn't stay at The Randy Peach, but couldn't really do anything about it because they were full up to capacity on patrons. There was also a story among the men about how he had lost all of his slaves last time he had brought a caravan, causing the slaver to take precautions against problems like that; there were two men outside with the prisoners, eating their dinner and drinking their ale while guarding.
Morze sat in silence outside, enjoying the way the rain spattered his skin. It was a good, cold rain. He hated the scent of the horses that were put up with the wagons and cage in the stables they were in, and hated the hay even more. But the rain was here, and it helped. Closing his eyes, Morze decided he should turn in early to reserve his strength...
"Hey, mister."
Morze's eyes shot open and settled on the cage where the future servants were being kept. What looked out at him was the face of the little girl who had deceived him into the fishing net. Though his first reaction was to feel disgust, he noticed with a twinge of guilt that the girl was sobbing.
"Mister, I'm really sorry. I... I didn't want t-t-to... to..." She stopped, her crying so uncontrollable that all that was coming out of her mouth was choked whimpering. "He... he said he would h-h-h-hurt..."
Morze cut her off after she couldn't compose herself for long enough. "I understand, it's not your fault."
She looked up, big eyes luminescent in the torchlight of the stables. "It is. I could have said no."
Morze smiled despite the situation. "You're brave for someone so small." In order to keep this girl from crying, he changed the subject. "What's your name?"
It took a few moments for her to stop sniffling, but she struggled out, "M-M-Madeline, sir." Morze nodded. "And how old are you?" Madeline seemed to brighten up a bit. "I have eight summers, mister. What's your name?" Morze's eyes widened slightly, surprised that the girl was so young. "That's an old expression, even older than me! And you're such a good swimmer for your age, your parents must be proud."
Morze realized his mistake as soon as Madeline's face went from brightening up to utter sadness. "I'm an orphan." She explained flatly. "My papa took care of me, but he got sick and we couldn't afford the medicine he needed..." Morze held up his hand. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to say anything insensitive, I'm sorry." And, after a pause, "My parents are gone, too."
Madeline went to continue, when Morze held up a finger to silence her. Something didn't feel right. A sudden hush went over the stable. An unnatural hush. As if the guards were listening for something...
