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Sometimes there were not so many women, sometimes there were not so many buyers. Always, though, the arrangements were the same. Prepare the women for parade, take them to their sale posts, make them ready for the auction, package for despatch. Alexander helped. Well, he thought he helped. Like in the bar. She snorted at the thought of it. For him, helping in the bar meant drinking with the customers. It was the same here.The women were quiet when she came into the hall in the middle of the cells. They had been cowed by the last week of mistreatment. Even the six newcomers had learned quickly that obedience was the best approach. Andrea showed them all the taser she carried, just to remind them to behave well.Each was taken from her cell in turn, allowed to shower, dressed in a cloak that fastened only at the collar, and then directed up the stairs into the central hall of the villa.It made a pleasant venue for the auction, Freddie thought. Twelve pillars held up a high ceiling. One. That man is an imposter." He narrowed his eyes. "And I don't know who you are." Icy sweat drenched Arram. Before he could reply the slave put a sack over his head, and he was dragged away. His heart sank. He had no idea what was going on, but he was sure he knew what was going to happen next. He consoled himself that at least he wouldn't have to live for very long after they cut his manhood off, as they would almost certainly chop his head off too. The slave pushed him and they walked, Arram sometimes stumbling because he couldn’t see his own feet. After a while the bag was removed , and he blinked and looked around. He expected to see a dungeon or a torture chamber, but instead he was in a lavish banquet hall. The table in front of him overflowed with savory foods, and the true caliph sat eating a stuffed hen. He pointed to an empty chair. "Have a seat, boy. Eat something." Arram paused, unsure what to do, then sat down and began grabbing everything he could reach. After all,.
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