Sold

3: Bought

A voice shakes the amphitheater like a boom, rattling our cages. Lyda lurches into an erect posture, pressing against the bars to peek down the hallway.

"I've never heard anything like that." Her bony fingers whiten from her grip on the icy metal. "Do you think we're finally being rescued?"

She hushes as the booming voice continues. The words are either foreign or intelligible, and they sound far from my mental image of any rescue party.

It is one voice, a light masculine pitch, with an airy melody of accent and energy. Instead of sounding aggressive or violent, it sounds whimsical, approachable, and charismatic. Peppy music accompanies it.

I purse my brow, staring down the hallway beside Lyda with my face pressed between the bars.

"What...is happening?" The boy croaks behind us. Lyda's eyes spill from side to side as her lips part. Clearly she has no idea what to say.

The squeal of grating metal echoes through the hall. Lyda and I snap our heads toward the noise.

A group of Genrens jerk a cage open, yanking three chained prisoners out of their cell. The three captives have fair, opaque skin is tarnished by grime but their sapphire wings still glimmer. Their hair is long, pale white, and woven in fishtails down their scalps. I've never seen or heard of their race, but they look regal beneath their rags.

My stomach sinks. Just how many races do the Genren stalk for captives? I wish I could do something about it, but I'm just one person. I'm not even a fighter like Meben. I could never stop this kind of thing from happening.

A loud voice booms within the amphitheater, reverberating through the cells and filling the prison room with energy. It's a male speaking - that much is obvious - with a voice like pure saccharine. Soft, whimsical music plays and the peppy tune feels off-putting as we wait inside the cells. 

I furrow my brow, looking over at Lyda. It sounds like a festival. What is going on out there?

"They're starting the auction." She points to a cell at the other end of the room. A group of Genrens usher the prisoners out of their cell and push them out of the basement, up a staircase. "Our cell is also scheduled for today, from what I've overheard."

"Who's ready to purchase a lovely little live-in maid or a devoted, strong workhorse?" The amphitheater voice bellows. A wave of applause thunders back. He chuckles. "I think you all will be very pleased with today's collection."

They're auctioning us? They're selling the people in cages? As maids and workmen? My eyes flick around the cages. Is there any way out of here? I grab hold of the bars, trying to bend or shake or even squeeze my way out of here.

Lyda watches me with a raised eyebrow. I know it won't do much good, but shouldn't we at least try? I suppose she's probably done enough trying for all this time she's been stuck here. I can't even imagine being trapped in here for as long as she has.