Life Stories

The question had been simple. "Are you going back? I'll walk with you. It's not a good idea to be out here alone." I shot him a look, thinking - if he only knew how much "alone" I had already tasted. It all seemed so very ironic, that I ended up smiling at him. Pike sold slaves, and I knew I should be wary of him and his type. I knew it like I knew 2 plus 2 equals 4. But Pike didn't give me that feeling I had to worry. In fact, he was talking about the continuation of travel in a few days, enjoying the company of a few old acquaintances and looking forward to several of the business deals he had in the making. He was just explaining his decision to continue on with the caravan instead of the small group of merchants when the slave I had seen before appeared near Pike's path. We had stopped near a display before a wagon, and behind the table top littered with beads and sacks of sugar sat Jordian and his companion, Mag.

Light from Lar Torvis peeked through the thick cotton of clouds to add it's own decorative appeal to the display of offerings. Another merchant stood opposite Jordian, hawking his spools of shiny ribbons and a few bolts of pale cloth. The items would be added to the inventory of Mag and Jordian by the end of the day, but only after all merchants involved had a chance to do their best bargaining. Jordian was much like a little boy, excited over every trinket he happened upon and I imagined he had his pockets stuffed with treasures we couldn't see. He had a way of talking in an easy smooth manner that seemed to connect with whomever he was dealing with. I suspect that by the end of a session with Jordian, one felt like they were getting a steal of a deal, though logic would whisper and say it wasn't so fantastic of a find. Then Mag would step in. If Jordian was the careless boy, willing to part with his stash for a mere pittance, Mag was the older sibling, ready to step in and make sure the deal was equitable. By the time Mag was done with her scrutinizing and counting, the purchaser - or seller - most likely conceded simply out of sympathy for Jordian.

Mag and Jordian worked quite well together.

With an almost fatherly beckon, Jordian had invited me to join them both for supper. I thought I detected a fleeting shadow cross Mag's features before she turned and blessed me with a wide smile, and we strolled toward the tents where the most delicious scents were sprinkling the air. When the conversation was not over goods and supplies, Mag liked to talk. She seemed to enjoy talking about people the most. "The man at the end of the wagon rows had 'lost' his companion during the last trip." "A blond haired spice merchant wound up on the wrong side of a slave chain." Mag's stories were colorful, dramatic, and always filled with some kind of nefarious plotting, spun on here say, and bolstered by some womanly intuition she claimed. Jordian's part was to grunt occasionally. Mine was to listen.