After an hour or so, the sound of a kerfuffle made him glance out the window at the docks. A gaggle of Faridale men had gathered around a large raised platform. In the corner of was a large table manned by a two tall men, one in red and one in black. Declan watched as, one by one, the Faridale men walked up to the table, gave something to the man in red, and received from the man in black what looked like a bit of paper in return. Declan watched this for awhile, nonplussed.
“Um, Clancy? Sir?”
“Mmm?” Clancy said, not taking his eyes of the account he was reading.
“What are those men doing down there?”
“Trading, fighting or drinking.”
“You didn’t even look.”
“Don’t need to, do I? We’re in Faridale.”
“Please, sir.”
Clancy sighed and put the paper down, walking over to the window.
“Down by the podium there?”
Declan nodded, getting up to stand beside Clancy. Now the two men were taking the bowls off the the stage, and setting them up along the side.
“Looks like those Dirka Savages we passed on our way here are getting auctioned off, see?” Clancy pointed to the stage, where a young man had been led out to the center, stopped by the weight of heavy chains criss-crossing his back and chest. The man in red reached his hand into the first bowl and selected one of the bits of paper, and read it aloud. There was a flurry of movement as a man parted from the crowd and walked up onto the stage, grabbing the slave by his chance and wresting him off the platform towards a waiting wagon.
“Um, Clancy? Sir?”
“Mmm?” Clancy said, not taking his eyes of the account he was reading.
“What are those men doing down there?”
“Trading, fighting or drinking.”
“You didn’t even look.”
“Don’t need to, do I? We’re in Faridale.”
“Please, sir.”
Clancy sighed and put the paper down, walking over to the window.
“Down by the podium there?”
Declan nodded, getting up to stand beside Clancy. Now the two men were taking the bowls off the the stage, and setting them up along the side.
“Looks like those Dirka Savages we passed on our way here are getting auctioned off, see?” Clancy pointed to the stage, where a young man had been led out to the center, stopped by the weight of heavy chains criss-crossing his back and chest. The man in red reached his hand into the first bowl and selected one of the bits of paper, and read it aloud. There was a flurry of movement as a man parted from the crowd and walked up onto the stage, grabbing the slave by his chance and wresting him off the platform towards a waiting wagon.