replied.
“Any physical handicaps? Chronic illnesses?”
“I’m healthy. A little hungry.”
“We feed them twice what most slaves get,” Ansel inserted. “They’re in prime condition, fresh from a prosperous world.”
The man nodded, eyes still on Cole. “How well do you handle heights?”
Cole wondered whether he should lie. Maybe a fear of heights would disqualify him from the dangerous work Ansel had mentioned. But the buyer looked and acted nice, which was more than Cole could say for the slavers. He decided to see where honesty would lead him. “I’m not scared of heights.”
The man shifted his stance. “How do you feel when standing near a high brink?”
“Doesn’t bother me,” Cole said. “Never has.”
The man turned to Ansel. “Easy as that. I’ll take him.”
C HAPTER
6
THE BRINK
T he quick decision surprised Cole. The buyer turned away, and a tall, muscled stranger came into view, glaring at Cole distrustfully. So much for making an easy escape from the old limping guy. He should have guessed the buyer would have help.
On his way out of the cage, Cole leaned close to surgeon girl. “If you get lonely, talk to the happy face.”
She looked at him like he was crazy.
Cole hopped down to where the tall stranger awaited him. “This way,” the man said, pointing toward the front of the caravan. He had a familiar reddish mark on his wrist.
“Are you a slave too?” Cole asked.
The man cuffed Cole on the ear, hard enough to knock him to the ground. Cole stayed down for a moment, the side of his head smarting and his mind buzzing with anger.
“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” the man said. “Up.”
Cole got to his feet. The kids in the slave wagons watched him with wide eyes. Without an audience, he would have gonequietly. But he didn’t want all those kids to see him offering no resistance to a bully. It set a bad precedent.
So he turned and kicked at the side of the stranger’s knee as hard as he could. Crouching, the man swiveled, caught Cole’s ankle in one hand, and then swept his other foot out from under him with a brisk kick.
Cole’s back hit the ground first with a flat slap, and he found himself unable to breathe. Rolling onto his side, he shuddered as he tried to get his paralyzed lungs to kick into gear. He needed air but couldn’t inhale. Then the paralysis passed, and he was breathing again. He gratefully took several deep breaths.
“You have any fight left in you?” the tall stranger asked. “I could do this all day.”
Cole rocked into a sitting position. A glance at the wagon showed the occupants all pointedly looking elsewhere. He had taught them that defiance led to pain and failure. Not exactly the lesson he’d had in mind.
Cole got up and brushed himself off. The tall guard gestured for him to proceed. “Bye, Happy,” Cole called toward the cage.
“Bye” came a faint, high-pitched reply.
Cole noticed several heads in the cage swivel toward the floor.
Well ahead of them now, the buyer limped beside Ansel toward a group of burdened mules at the front of the caravan. “Those your mules?” Cole asked.
The man cuffed Cole on the other ear, not as hard as last time, but enough to make him stagger. “You learn slower than most dogs.”
“You didn’t hit me for saying good-bye,” Cole replied.
“I’m not that heartless,” the man said. “No more out of you.”
Cole watched the wagons as he walked. He saw Jenna, her Cleopatra costume filthy and bedraggled. Cole forced a smile and gave her a wave.
“You were brave to come for us,” Jenna called. “Tracy deserves to be run over by every wagon in the line!”
The other kids in her cage distanced themselves from her. She stood by the bars defiantly.
“They’re taking my wagon to the High King,” Jenna called. “Whatever that means.”
“This isn’t over,” Cole promised, ducking just in time to feel the man’s hand whoosh over his head. He had swung hard that time. Cole
“Any physical handicaps? Chronic illnesses?”
“I’m healthy. A little hungry.”
“We feed them twice what most slaves get,” Ansel inserted. “They’re in prime condition, fresh from a prosperous world.”
The man nodded, eyes still on Cole. “How well do you handle heights?”
Cole wondered whether he should lie. Maybe a fear of heights would disqualify him from the dangerous work Ansel had mentioned. But the buyer looked and acted nice, which was more than Cole could say for the slavers. He decided to see where honesty would lead him. “I’m not scared of heights.”
The man shifted his stance. “How do you feel when standing near a high brink?”
“Doesn’t bother me,” Cole said. “Never has.”
The man turned to Ansel. “Easy as that. I’ll take him.”
C HAPTER
6
THE BRINK
T he quick decision surprised Cole. The buyer turned away, and a tall, muscled stranger came into view, glaring at Cole distrustfully. So much for making an easy escape from the old limping guy. He should have guessed the buyer would have help.
On his way out of the cage, Cole leaned close to surgeon girl. “If you get lonely, talk to the happy face.”
She looked at him like he was crazy.
Cole hopped down to where the tall stranger awaited him. “This way,” the man said, pointing toward the front of the caravan. He had a familiar reddish mark on his wrist.
“Are you a slave too?” Cole asked.
The man cuffed Cole on the ear, hard enough to knock him to the ground. Cole stayed down for a moment, the side of his head smarting and his mind buzzing with anger.
“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” the man said. “Up.”
Cole got to his feet. The kids in the slave wagons watched him with wide eyes. Without an audience, he would have gonequietly. But he didn’t want all those kids to see him offering no resistance to a bully. It set a bad precedent.
So he turned and kicked at the side of the stranger’s knee as hard as he could. Crouching, the man swiveled, caught Cole’s ankle in one hand, and then swept his other foot out from under him with a brisk kick.
Cole’s back hit the ground first with a flat slap, and he found himself unable to breathe. Rolling onto his side, he shuddered as he tried to get his paralyzed lungs to kick into gear. He needed air but couldn’t inhale. Then the paralysis passed, and he was breathing again. He gratefully took several deep breaths.
“You have any fight left in you?” the tall stranger asked. “I could do this all day.”
Cole rocked into a sitting position. A glance at the wagon showed the occupants all pointedly looking elsewhere. He had taught them that defiance led to pain and failure. Not exactly the lesson he’d had in mind.
Cole got up and brushed himself off. The tall guard gestured for him to proceed. “Bye, Happy,” Cole called toward the cage.
“Bye” came a faint, high-pitched reply.
Cole noticed several heads in the cage swivel toward the floor.
Well ahead of them now, the buyer limped beside Ansel toward a group of burdened mules at the front of the caravan. “Those your mules?” Cole asked.
The man cuffed Cole on the other ear, not as hard as last time, but enough to make him stagger. “You learn slower than most dogs.”
“You didn’t hit me for saying good-bye,” Cole replied.
“I’m not that heartless,” the man said. “No more out of you.”
Cole watched the wagons as he walked. He saw Jenna, her Cleopatra costume filthy and bedraggled. Cole forced a smile and gave her a wave.
“You were brave to come for us,” Jenna called. “Tracy deserves to be run over by every wagon in the line!”
The other kids in her cage distanced themselves from her. She stood by the bars defiantly.
“They’re taking my wagon to the High King,” Jenna called. “Whatever that means.”
“This isn’t over,” Cole promised, ducking just in time to feel the man’s hand whoosh over his head. He had swung hard that time. Cole
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