Karim's eyes jumped across the small crowd, shocked as everyone else to hear the words<i>fifty silver</i>said like it was the most obvious thing in the world that Karim was worth that much.<br/><br/>Karim was most certainly not. A slave good enough to present to the emperor might be, but only then.<br/><br/>Karim's breath caught, the mist coming from between his lips ending for a moment, the cloud dissipating and not replaced.<br/><br/><i>"Kiri?" </i>he asked. He had never thought he would see the man again, ever. Not if he lived to be a hundred.<br/><br/>The slaver opened the cloth bag Kiri had given him—it was Kiri, it had to be—and briskly counted the coins.<br/><br/>"Sold," he called, but his voice quieted from the booming salesman's bellow it had been giving. He leaned down to speak to Kiri quietly. "We have no clothes for him, sir, nor place to bathe him other than the slave pens, two miles out. Usually the master provides—"<br/><br/>He cleared his throat. "But of course we can provide some clothes, of course, sir."<br/><br/>He obviously didn't want to jeopardize the sale, though, which was many times more than he was expecting for all the slaves put together.<br/><br/>The procurer glared at one of his assistants, who was about Karim's size.<br/><br/>"Danyl, take off your damn clothes." The procurer glanced at the buyer.<br/><br/>"Sir?" the young man crowed, offended by the possibility.<br/><br/>The procurer gave the boy a look, and stubbornly, Danyl scowled. But he removed his clothing down to his loincloth and shoes, blushing bright red and shivering in the chill air, and handed it to Karim. Karim's manacles were taken off and he was able to dress.<br/><br/>"Is this acceptable, your grace?" the procurer asked him, voice unctuous.