The pattern was changed. The third shipment to Travanix' warehouse came as the sun was cresting over the horizon. The red light of false dawn played over the nearly-naked bodies of the slave women. This time, there were six.
Their captors, also, were somewhat different. In place of the tall black woman was a voluptuous maiden with Gypsy coloring, wearing a black leather catsuit and a mischievous smile. The Chinese man was still present, but this time he led the way. Only the guns at their hips were the same, the snaps fastened as always to show good faith.
The six women were bound at the wrists, as before - but the bindings were not white silk, but heavy metal manacles. The women muttered uneasily to each other... or at least, four of them did. In an effort to provide more diversity, only four of the six were acquired in China - two Chinese daughters, two "foreign" prostitutes who spoke the language (a redhead and a blonde.)
The two others were taken in the Caribbean, in both a different area and a different era. One was black as polished jet, with beaded hair, the other was some sort of harmonious mix of races, cocoa-colored and lovely as a statue. The first was a purchased daughter, the second a purchased prostitute (but with a refreshing innocence, being new to her work.)
It was easier, they had found, to manage females who were paid for instead of kidnapped. The price was always negligible; only the poorest sold their women, and to these people a small amount was a fortune.
The shipment was irregular: six in two weeks, rather than three a week. To make up for this, the females were not only of the finest quality, but had been well-groomed and fetchingly dressed in black-leather lingerie before delivery. This was a guiding principle of their Corporation, whose leader had once been told by her birth-mother, "It's always better to show up late and looking good."
Each girl had a small tag around her neck, listing her former name, age (they fell between fourteen and nineteen), known skills and languages. The black girl was the fourteen-year-old; she was tagged as being a "Folk Mage - specific powers unknown." (She had been sold by her family for witchcraft, and for those who believed in such powers this was a selling point rather than the opposite.)
The Chinese man bowed to the warehouse guards, who had learned to recognize him. After handing over the girls and the keys to their manacles, he handed over a sealed letter. "For Lord Travanix," he said. Without another word, he and his pretty companion walked away. Six women had been sold in three words.
Their captors, also, were somewhat different. In place of the tall black woman was a voluptuous maiden with Gypsy coloring, wearing a black leather catsuit and a mischievous smile. The Chinese man was still present, but this time he led the way. Only the guns at their hips were the same, the snaps fastened as always to show good faith.
The six women were bound at the wrists, as before - but the bindings were not white silk, but heavy metal manacles. The women muttered uneasily to each other... or at least, four of them did. In an effort to provide more diversity, only four of the six were acquired in China - two Chinese daughters, two "foreign" prostitutes who spoke the language (a redhead and a blonde.)
The two others were taken in the Caribbean, in both a different area and a different era. One was black as polished jet, with beaded hair, the other was some sort of harmonious mix of races, cocoa-colored and lovely as a statue. The first was a purchased daughter, the second a purchased prostitute (but with a refreshing innocence, being new to her work.)
It was easier, they had found, to manage females who were paid for instead of kidnapped. The price was always negligible; only the poorest sold their women, and to these people a small amount was a fortune.
The shipment was irregular: six in two weeks, rather than three a week. To make up for this, the females were not only of the finest quality, but had been well-groomed and fetchingly dressed in black-leather lingerie before delivery. This was a guiding principle of their Corporation, whose leader had once been told by her birth-mother, "It's always better to show up late and looking good."
Each girl had a small tag around her neck, listing her former name, age (they fell between fourteen and nineteen), known skills and languages. The black girl was the fourteen-year-old; she was tagged as being a "Folk Mage - specific powers unknown." (She had been sold by her family for witchcraft, and for those who believed in such powers this was a selling point rather than the opposite.)
The Chinese man bowed to the warehouse guards, who had learned to recognize him. After handing over the girls and the keys to their manacles, he handed over a sealed letter. "For Lord Travanix," he said. Without another word, he and his pretty companion walked away. Six women had been sold in three words.