by Ian Rodgers
“Easy there,” Enrai said. “And try to calm down. We don’t want you to get too excited, alright?”
“Yes-yes,” she replied, nodding rapidly. “What d-do you need from me?”
“I’m looking for something,” Dora revealed. “An opal that walks. Being a citizen of Down, you must surely know where all the slave markets and monster shops are, correct?”
“I-I do know where many of them are,” Long-Tail-Shadow confirmed. “But I have never heard-learned of a walking opal, before.”
“I’m fairly certain it’s metaphorical, or something along those lines,” Dora admitted. “I was told to find it through a dream my goddess sent me. The only thing I can think of is that it’s a living creature of some kind, and given my past, my lady wants me to rescue it. Which means its owned by slavers, or a similar sort of folk.”
“Very well. I can take you to the largest flesh-market in Down. It won’t be too much of an issue-problem,” the Rakkar stated. “The only real issue-problem is avoiding trouble with the protector-guards and local gangs. And my instincts are telling me you and your two friends get into a lot of trouble quite often.”
“She’s not wrong,” Ain chuckled when Dora and Enrai both coughed and tried to look innocent. He glanced around the bar and nudged his Monk friend in the ribs to get his attention. “I think we should head out of here soon. That troll you smacked looks like he might wake up soon, and his friends look eager to cause trouble.”
“Sounds like a plan!” Enrai declared. The group quickly finished up their drinks and left a tip on their table for the bartender. A sort of ‘sorry for breaking your stuff and almost causing a bar fight’ apology.
Outside of the bar, Dora sucked in a deep breath of fresh underground air, coughing a little at the staleness of it, before turning to the guide they’d found.
“Lead on, Miss Long-Tail-Shadow,” Dora said, and the Rakkar nodded eagerly.
“Yes-yes! Can do so!” She scurried off into the twisting labyrinth of bridges, walkways, and strange, upside-down buildings, a Chosen One and her friends hot on the Rakkar’s heels.
Chapter 9: Flesh Market
“We seem to be heading up, instead of down,” Ain commented some ways into their trek through the unique city.
“Yes-yes, that’s correct. The lower levels of Down are the newest-youngest, while the upper levels are much, much older,” their guide explained. “It’s easy to get lost, and if you do ever find yourself in a place where you cannot hear the sound of construction-creation, you’ve gone too far and headed into the equivalent of the slums.”
“And criminals would make use of these abandoned levels, wouldn’t they?” Dora mused, to which Long-Tail-Shadow nodded.
“Yes-yes, very true! While slavery is technically legal in Down, a lot of visitors to the Delving City do not find such practice appealing, and many servants of so-called ‘good’ deities will often mount miniature crusades to attack the slavers around here. So, the businesses are kept out of sight on the upper levels. Not too far up that they’re in the abandoned zones, but far enough from the main levels and primary Dimensional Gates that they’re out of sight from most tourists.”
“Hmm,” Enrai said, glancing around with a thoughtful expression. His eyes kept glancing over at their Rakkar guide, making her nervous. Eventually the Monk asked what was on his mind.
“Why exactly is your kind shunned?” he asked, and Long-Tail-Shadow flinched at his question.
“W-why do you ask-wonder?”
“I’ve seen a lot of glares sent your way. Looks of disgust and mistrust. Normally I’d expect some degree of racism when so many varied species are gathered together, but almost every single creature we’ve passed has given you foul looks,” Enrai explained, revealing his sharp intuition. “It makes no sense that literally every single species would hate just one other. Unless there was something bigger going on.”
“The Rakkar are seen as thieves and vermin-scum by all. Many of my people-kin are exceptionally good at stealing. Most of the pickpockets in any city-den where my kind can be found will be Rakkar. If there is a theft, we always get the blame-punishment. Partly because it is unfortunately likely one of us did do it,” Long-Tail-Shadow explained, her head hanging low. “Some of us try to do other jobs, but in the end, we inevitably fall back on crime-evil to survive when people-outsiders turn on us.”
“I take it some of the ‘dirty jobs’ you mentioned doing for that group of orcs involved stealing things?” Dora said, understanding coming to light in her mind.
“Yes-yes, the Iron Bristles had me steal keys, maps, and weapons from their enemy-rivals quite often,” the Rakkar woman admitted in shame.
“Sheesh, that sounds like a raw deal,” Enrai said sympathetically.
“It is an old-old story for the Rakkar. Not that it gets any easier,” the rat-looking woman sighed, her tail twitching despondently.
“Hold up! I smell grease and oil… sweat as well,” Dora suddenly announced, sniffing at the air. “Plus, rust, and excrement and fur… add those things together, and odds are we’re getting close to the slave market.”
Long-Tail-Shadow tentatively tested the air with her own nose, her whiskers waggling from the action.
“Yes-yes, this is the stink of the flesh-market,” she confirmed. She looked around, and pointed a paw at some old, rusty chains nailed to a nearby wall, with several crude graffiti sketches of cages below it. “That symbol-mark shows us we are close. Following it will take us to the entrance.”
“About time, we’ve been walking for hours,” Ain complained, rubbing his legs to ease some feeling back into them.
“We *yawn!* we may have to find a place to take a rest later on. But right now, I want to look through the slave market and see if we can find what Lady Nia wants me to locate,” Dora agreed, fighting back a yawn. It was hard to tell the time in Down. There were no clocks anywhere, and the ambient light levels were always constant along the more frequently traveled paths.
She hid her tiredness beneath her iron will, and continued forward confidently. Before long they joined with a small stream of other travelers, all heading in the same direction.
‘Seems like Long-Tail’s words were true,’ Dora thought to herself as she spotted what at first seemed like a tall metal fence in the distance. The rattling of chains, and the stink of various musky scents that reminded Dora of her time in the Cracked Land informed her that a slaver’s camp was up ahead.
But as their group drew closer, it was soon apparent that this was something completely different to what they’d expected. An entire section of the level was converted into a hanging garden of cages. There were no regular or normal buildings, just huge prison cells that were bunched together to emulate rooms and other structures. Some cages were linked together to act as gruesome parodies of the bridges and walkways out in Down proper.
Some of the cages were simple, with ordinary steel bars and metal floor and roof. There were some designed for birds, and they hung alongside aquariums of glass that held aquatic beasts. Cells varied in size as well, some ranging from small enough to contain fleas, others were large enough to hold hundreds of people at a time.
There were quite a few exotic cages as well, such as an ovoid cell whose bars thrummed with electricity, and another one wrapped in beams of solid light. One cage looked like it was made of thorny vines, hundreds of sharp spikes facing inward, waiting to impale anything foolish enough to try and escape.
The slave market was a town made entirely out of prisons, and Dora shuddered uncomfortably as the area reminded her too much of the Chained God’s domain, and the way he’d stacked cages and used them as building blocks for his furniture. A dark part of her brain whispered that this whole place was likely designed in homage to Naliot.
“So, who do we speak to in order to find out who’s selling who?” Enrai asked, injecting as much fake enthusiasm as he could muster into his tone.
Dora looked around, scrutinizing all the vendors
in her sight. Eventually she raised a finger, pointing at an unusual creature whose skin looked like wet mud. Besides the oddness of the flesh, it wore clothes that the young half-orc recognized as the kind of garb worn by moderately wealthy individuals.
“That person right there,” she said, keeping her eye on the mudman. “His clothes indicate he’s not the richest slaver around, but he can afford better quality stuff than many of the other vendors. And see the way he’s greeting a lot of passersby by name, not title? He clearly knows them, and has a decent relationship. I have no doubt that that man is quite knowledgeable about many other slavers in the market. He’d be the best bet to chat up, asking about what goes on around here.”
Ain and Enrai bobbed their heads, taking the Healer’s words as wisdom. After all, she’d learned quite a lot about this nasty business herself. As for Long-Tail-Shadow, the Rakkar stared at Dora with respect, not having expected the half-orc to so quickly identify a powerful player in the flesh-market’s hierarchy.
Squeezing their way through the crowd and the narrow walkways, the quartet arrived at the mudman’s stall.
Strips of parchment and slates of clay decorated the vendor’s area. Upon them, in a variety of languages, were written the prices of the assorted slaves currently for sale. Dora cast her gaze over it, going over in her head the prices on display, and how they correlated to the numbers back home in the Dreadlands.
‘Hmm, according to this list, an adult orc goes for two Crushing Topaz. Back in the Cracked Land, I think I saw an adult orc go for ten gold. Or was it twenty? Oh, humans are pretty cheap! Just a single Crush Topaz, or best offer? Don’t see any magical species on this list, though. He only seems to sell ordinary slaves, albeit in bulk.’ Dora looked over the catalog some more before glancing at up at the mudman.
“Good, err, day, mister. I’m looking for something specific. Do you perhaps have any walking opals for sale?” she asked politely, and the unusual businessman, whom Dora was certain was an Elemental of some sort, clapped his grimy hands together.
“Opals that walk, you say? Not sure I’ve heard of that species before. Do you have a description of them?”
“Afraid not. But all I do know is that it has opal-like qualities,” Dora replied with a shake of her head.
“Hmm. I don’t think I have anything like that for sale, my dear. But, if gem-studded beasts are what you’re after, I know the perfect fellow!” the muddy humanoid declared. “Look for my friend Glast. Can’t miss him, just go straight and you’ll spot his stall. He’s got the largest collection of Carbuncles around!”
“Thank you for your advice,” Dora said, bowing her head politely.
“You know, if you ever get tired of that Rakkar of yours, I’d be happy to buy it off you for a reasonable sum,” the Elemental said as the group prepared to walk off. Long-Tail-Shadow flinched, but Dora kept up her fake pleasant expression.
“No need. She still has her uses,” the blonde Healer said, loudly for the Rakkar guide to hear. The vender owner simply nodded and turned to another potential customer. Long-Tail-Shadow’s shoulders sagged in relief. Dora simply patted her back comfortingly and kept her close.
They headed deeper into the slave market after that, looking around for a large number of Carbunkles. Here and there tiny fairies with jewels embedded in their chest could be seen despondently sitting in small cages, but they were few and far between.
However, just when the searchers were about to give up for the day and find someplace to hunker down and rest, Ain’s ears twitched and he narrowed his eyes as he stared off into the distance of the market.
“Hear something interesting?” Dora inquired, and the Grand Elf nodded.
“Yes, it sounds like wind chimes,” Ain replied. “A whole lot of them, in fact.”
“Carbunkle wings sort of make a similar sound when they flap, don’t they?” Enrai asked, glancing over his shoulder at a cage where a tiny lead-grey fairy sat timidly in a cage, the sapphire in its chest pulsing softly. Every so often, its wings would flutter, creating a faint sound of crinkling highly similar to that of a wind chime.
“They do. I think I might have found where this ‘Glast’ fellow is,” Ain said, walking down a side path towards the sound of tinkling glass.
A short jaunty walk later, and the crew found themselves in front of a massive and ornate cage made of gold. Easily a hundred feet in all directions, the cage was filled to the brim with Carbuncles of all sorts. The colors of their gems and their vibrant, stained glass wings created a scintillating kaleidoscope of colors that bathed that region of the slave market. The cheery colors and mood of the jeweled fairies were an ironic offset to the gloomy, dour mood of the rest of the slave market’s prisoners.
“I can see I’ve caught your attention,” a smooth voice called out to the group, who turned to check who was speaking.
The only word that described him correctly was ‘statuesque.’ Partly because the person was in fact a marble statue, only animate. It reminded Dora of the Val’Narashi style of art, with human anatomy recreated in excruciating detail out of solid stone. Thankfully this individual covered up their lower half with a short toga made of shimmering gold silk, but left the rest of their form on display for all to witness.
“My name is Glast, dear customers. I am a Marble Elemental, and owner of this fine display,” the statue spoke. Somehow. Its mouth did not move a single inch at all while it addressed the quartet.
“It’s a beautiful presentation, Mr. Glast,” Dora said politely. “And I can tell that the Carbuncles are at least content, if not happy, with their imprisonment. Unlike some of the others I’ve seen in the market.”
“Hmm, yes, such barbarians, to make beautiful creatures like them suffer,” the Marble Elemental scoffed in disdain. “I prefer beauty to stand out! It’s why my wares are the envy of all!”
“I can tell,” Dora praised, turning to look at some of the other creatures captured and for sale. “I don’t know how you managed to get that Megalith Snail’s shell to be so shiny and smooth, but it really brings out the colors. A primarily basalt-based diet, perhaps, with periodic sand scrubs to keep the shell clean and polished?”
In a fire proof cage suspended next to the Carbuncles was a massive snail that oozed flames. Its obsidian shell was indeed beautiful, and the internal heat of the monster allowed for tiny grooves and creases in its covering to glow a fiery orange. It was an inspiring site to behold.
“A connoisseur of fine art! So glad to see someone with a discerning eye,” Glast exclaimed happily. “You know quite a bit about monster handling, too.”
“I used to be a vet in a similar line of work as yours,” Dora admitted, carefully not letting her true job description out. She had no idea if Naliot had placed a bounty on her, and a half-orc Healer with blonde hair was bound to stand out, even in the Aether.
“Interesting,” the Elemental mused, looking down at the half-orc with an appraising eye. Dora did her best not to shudder in revulsion at the blank, empty, lifelessness in the animated statue’s ‘eyes.’
“What are you looking for, my dear?” he eventually asked, gesturing to his vast collection of unique monsters.
“An opal that walks,” Dora said resolutely. Without facial features to move, it was hard to tell if the statue was surprised or not by the request. But there was a definite change in the air around the Elemental.
Dora remained outwardly unflappable, though, even as her friends sensed the sudden shift and warily watched her interact with the living statue.
“It’s not often I get asked for something like that,” Glast claimed, folding his arms behind his back. “Hmmm, an opal that walks, is it?”
He looked around his collection, stare lingering on the golden cage filled with gem studded fairies. “There are Carbuncles that possess opals as their heart-gem. I do not have any in stock, however, as they can wield Time magic, making it hard to catch one. But Carbuncles so rarely bother to walk around, so they don’t fit your descrip
tion.”
He moved off, heading towards another cage among his collection. This one was to the left of the Carbuncle’s gilded prison, and contained an unusual looking tortoise. Its whole body looked to be made of dark, craggy stone, while its shell was studded with jewels sharpened into spikes.
“This is a rare Gemrind Tortoise. Native to the Elemental Plane of Earth, but can be found on the fiery planes of Ignatum, or the Jeweled Spires up in Heaven. It is unique in that it constantly grows precious stones from its shell, all of which contain potent magic, giving the monster the ability to cast all sorts of different elemental spells. But a Gemrind Tortoise that can grow opals? Rarer than rare, so I doubt this is what you are after.”
Glast tsked to himself before moving on to a third cage. “This might be what you are looking for! A golem made entirely out of opals!”
“I wasn’t aware golems were classified as slaves,” Dora said slowly, staring in awe at the strange contraption held aloft by countless brass chains. It was eight feet tall, and vaguely resembled a human made entirely of opals. However, it lacked a head and neck, instead possessing extremely wide and thick shoulders. In its chest was a great big eye made of glass and etched with runes. All across the creature more of these runes could be seen, carved into its solid opal flesh.
“They obey simple commands issued by a singular individual who owns them. They are perhaps more ‘tool’ than ‘slave,’ due to how they are artificial creatures, but there are some that can acquire their own consciousness after creation. Especially those made from rare or magically attuned materials. Like, say, opal,” Glast bragged. As he spoke, the glass on the front of the golem’s chest flickered to life and swiveled towards Dora, staring at her with intensity and a baleful purple glow.
“Rem’enex,” the golem abruptly vocalized, its voice akin to the sound of grating gears. Immediately afterwards the eye stopped glowing and it slumped in its chains.