"The girls are named Cheyenne, Shappa, Izusa, Kiona, and Peta. I have two others coming shortly. They are Tiponya and Tala. Cheyenne is a Meda. A prophet of her people...a priestess," a voice intoned dryly.
Then another took over. "The boys are named Bavol, Boyce, Chase, Coyone, Dominique, Durril, Elsu...and Durril is the Drakkar of his people...a fortuneteller."
At the end of these lists the men speaking were escorted out. Someone else began to speak softly but firmly. "I have been told Shappa, Izusa, Kiona, and Peta are sisters. Cheyenne and Elsu. Tiponya and Tala. Bavol and Durril, also. The four Frenchmen are all brothers, too, I believe. Your scouts found every one of them living upon the planet unaware of the special blood that runs through their veins, my lord. And the other one...He knows. All of them are special my lord. From the forbidden planet. You will keep that in mind, I hope," he said entreatingly.
"Yes, yes...I know," a tired voice broke into his careful speech. "I have handled many of their kind before. Are the two truly prophets?" There was no audible answer. "Kasey, pay the man and see that he leaves quietly." A soft sound suggested someone rising from the floor. Then, light footsteps preceded the third man's departure. "One little...two little...three little Indians. Four little...five little...six little Indians. Seven little Indian...boys." A gasp of startled surprise accompanied his last word. A shuffle of movement and a strangled cry.
"Elsu," a girl called out afraid.
"Quiet!," the man shouted. "I do not want to hear one word from any of you without permission. Is that clear?" Noone made a noise. "Especially the females," he warned darkly. "Are all of you quite aware that each one of you have just been sold into slavery...to a whoremaster," he added in glee.
"Mim'da," a gentle whisper interrupted.
"Ah, yes...Has my guest gone, Kasey?"
"Yes , mim'da...Now, what?" The light footsteps trailed back to his master's side where he supposedly must remain.
"Do you like anything you see, lover?," the man asked the boy. "I know you want Durril and Cheyenne. You wouldn't was fellow prophets injured without...insurance. Who else? Who would you save, Kasey?"
"Mim'da," the boy whispered with heavy emotions in his voice.
"Shh...touch them...look at them. I value your opinion."
"Mim'da...no, please," the boy begged. "Don't make me do this! Don't make me choose!" The man was moving the boy nearer to the line of females.
"Tell me about them, Kasey. That's my final order," the man warned gently. "I'll decide, but you will tell me about them!"
"Please...please, master!," the boy begged.
"What is so different? You have done this for me a million times. Talk to me, lover. Tell me what is bothering you..."
"These are my people!," the boy hissed fiercely. "Anton is my family! How can you ask me to hurt any one of them?," he asked frantically.
"You have never seen them before in your life."
"It doesn't matter! Anton is their Guardian, mim'da!," the boy whispered.
"And you are my lover, Kasey...my companion and my slave."
"Don't make me choose! I love you, Collin, but please..."
Collin soothed him. The sounds were more sexual than platonic. "Do this for me Kasey...and later, I'll let you plead with me for their lives. I'll let you do your damn best to convince me to let them all live. We will bargain for every little detail...Deal?," he teased. The boy moaned. "Answer me, Kasey." The kid moaned again...with even more force. "Answer!"