The Slave Market of Mucar

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Book: The Slave Market of Mucar Read Free
Author: Lee Falk
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slashed silk, on the front of which dully gleamed the golden disc of the Order of Allah, which he had instituted only a half-dozen years before.
    Though he and his son were the only people in the kingdom allowed to wear it, Saldan admired it a great deal. He could not help wondering how much it would fetch, deadweight in the market, every time he visited the Prince.
    Jewels blazed from the ornamental turban Selim wore on his head, in deference to the local people, for he was completely Westernized and paid little more than lip service to local custom. He wore an elaborately chased dagger with a gold hilt in his belt of doeskin and his trim beard was more often to be seen glinting in the sunshine of Deauville or Cannes than in Mucar-at least, when the slave routes were impassable and it was the closed season for the market, which happened briefly twice a year.
    Surprisingly well-preserved teeth-they were the Prince's own, Saldan had on good authority-smiled beneath the beard as Prince Selim swallowed the last of the coffee and returned the cup to the chased gold tray. But then an expression of displeasure passed across his features as he glanced across at the big man's mask.
    "Must we have this masquerade every time you visit me?" he said wearily.
    Saldan frowned. "Yes, your Highness," he said, "until we are alone." Selim shrugged.
    "As you will," he said. "Let us be alone now, then. There are others to come after you."
    He clapped his hands and his body servants took out the tray and the coffee service, leaving the two men alone in the brilliant flickering of the lamps.
    Saldan yawned again as he took off his mask.
    "A good night's work, your Highness." he said. "We sold forty slaves at two thousand a head."
    Prince Selim frowned in turn. He picked delicately at his teeth with a filigree-work toothpick.
    "I think not, Saldan," he said. "My steward tells me it was fifty slaves at three thousand a head!"
    Saldan shifted uneasily on his armchair, hut he did not seem at all put out. It was the expected thing, after all; a sort of protocol the two men observed whenever they met. Saldan did his best to cheat the Prince-he did cheat him in any event for his prices were never correctly reported to even the Scum's steward-and the old man always tried to get the better of him. In the end, they were both satisfied.
    "As you wish, Your Highness," he said easily. "But I would ask you to be kind enough not to use my real name here. Even the walls have ears."
    The Prince smiled a thin smile.
     
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    "Your real name is the only weapon I possess. Do not try to cheat me. Then perhaps we shall get on better."
    Saldan smiled a thin, insincere smile in his turn. "We are both slavers, after all."
    The Prince put a fine lace handkerchief to his nostrils. "I don't like that word either," he said. "It is not seemly that you use my city as an auction block."
    Saldan closed his eyes and squinted over his nose at the Prince.
    "I don't see you objecting to your half share, your Excellence," he observed.
    The Prince smiled again. "Touché. You are so right, my friend. We are merely playing with words. After all, as you intimate, this is a good arrangement."
    Saldan counted out the money in silence, then waited until the Prince's steward had checked it and put it in the safe behind the tapestries to the rear of the throne. He rose and put the remainder of the money in a big leather pouch at his waist, He lingered, one hand on the doorknob of the salon.
    "After all, if you're dissatisfied, Your Highness, I can always find another place for my auction block."
    The Prince was at his side in an instant. Humor shone in his eyes.
    "I do not think that will be necessary, my friend," he said. "And neither do you. This is too good an arrangement to consider terminating."
    Saldan bowed stiffly.
    "As Your Excellency says."
    He stood aside so that the old man could precede him. Despite his years the Prince had the erect carriage of a man thirty years younger. The

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