by Ciel Galen on May 23rd, 2012, 12:48 am
The Southern Trading Post meant something to the people of Ravok. To most people, it was nothing more than the entry point of visitors into the city, and the location of the Bazaar. To others, it might have been a place to get their first look at the slaves that would soon be up for auction. To others still, it was a place where they could purchase passage onto other ships and leave Ravok for Sunberth, or Zeltiva, or whatever gods-forsaken place they wished to go.
To Ciel, the huge imposing gray tower marked a boundary, a boundary that should never be crossed.
He made it a point to not linger by the Trading Post more than was necessary. He visited the Bazaar occasionally, searching for herbs or other medicinal supplies that might not have made it into the city, but he was very carefully not to stare longingly at the ships, or study the crowd as if he was looking for a familiar face. The last thing he wanted was for the damn Ebonstryfe to think he was looking for his sister, or thinking about skipping town and meeting up with her.
He hadn't confirmed whether or not they actually cared what he did. For all he knew, that business with his mother and with his sister was a footnote, and they had forgotten all about him. But Ciel was nothing if not paranoid, so he acted as if they were. He still had one sister left, after all, and because Zephyr couldn't be bothered taking her along for the ride when she disappeared into the night, she needed looking after.
He was there today to purchase some fresh fruit. It was a bit of an expense, but Faye liked them, and he did occasionally like to treat her. And as cautious as he was, he tried to make it down to the docks when he could, because he did keep an eye out for Zephyr. He was just smart enough to not let anyone know about it.
Feeling rather pleased with his intelligence, Ciel studied the crowd, idly taking a bite out of one of the apples he had bought. He wasn't here often enough that this would look suspicious, and he was entitled to enjoy a fruit while people-watching if he wanted to. The usual crowd made their way into the city--merchants who had finally gotten their permit, hollow-eyed despondent slaves, citizens of Ravok returning from a trip, sailors heading down to the nearest watering hole, and so on and so forth. A few bore the marks of a hard voyage--the slaves in particular looked like they might need medical attention, not like anyone would care. His eyes passed over one slave's injuries, cataloging them with about as much feeling as he would have used to write his grocery list.
Bruised jaw, walks with a limp--possibly a sprain, thin from malnourishment, chafing around the wrists and ankles from chains... He took another bite out of his apple.
Boring, he determined. Next.
Next turned out to be slightly more interesting. Benshira. Short. In his twenties. Not a slave. He bit into the apple with a crunch, chewing quietly as he studied the man.
Now what in the name of the gods was one of Yahal's fanatics doing in Ravok? Ciel waited as the man passed him, and then decided that the easiest way would simply be to ask. He spoke up, a smirk on his face as he leaned against a couple of stacked crates.
"You're a long way from home," he commented.