{"product_id":"lord-of-ravens-peak-isbn-9780515113518","title":"Lord of Raven's Peak","description":"\u003cb\u003eThe third novel in #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author Catherine Coulter's Vikings series.\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eMerrik Haraldsson, the younger brother of Rorik, the Lord of Hawkfell Island, embarks on a journey that begins in Kiev where he comes away with two slaves--Laren and her younger brother.  Laren wants to tell stories to earn enough silver and gold to buy her and her little brother from Merik, only he refuses to sell her.  And now that she's his, he must protect her when she's accused of murder, then save her yet again when he discovers her secrets.\"Another spry Viking romance...A grand adventure.\" -\u003cb\u003eBooklist\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cb\u003eCatherine Coulter\u003c\/b\u003e is the #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e bestselling author of the FBI Thrillers featuring husband and wife team Dillon Savich and Lacey Sherlock. She is also the author—with J. T. Ellison—of the Brit in the FBI series. She lives in Sausalito, California.1\u003cp\u003eThe Slave Market of Khagan-Rus\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eKiev, A.D. 916\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTHE SLAVE RING was as sweet-smelling as it would\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eever be, Merrik thought. It was early morning and still\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecool; a breeze off the river Dnieper rustled gently over\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe scores of unwashed bodies. It was July and the water\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebelow the embankment flowed smoothly and serenely\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewithin the Dnieper’s broad banks now, the ice\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efloes having finally melted early the month before. The\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003econsequent flooding had eased now as well, sending\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecleansing river smells upward.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe sun had just risen behind Kiev, showing bright\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egold behind the endless stretch of barren hills and jagged\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emountains to the east. The stench of winter-dirty\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efurs and scrawny bodies too long unwashed wouldn’t\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eoffend the nostrils until later in the day, even here in\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe slave ring. The only thing here to offend anyone was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe abject human misery, and that was a condition so\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efamiliar in a place like this, it hardly bore notice.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik Haraldsson had unfastened the pounded silver\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebrooch and slipped its sharp point from the soft otter\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efur cloak. He’d slung the cloak over his arm as he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewalked toward the slave market’s perimeter. He’d come\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efrom his longboat, The Silver Raven, moored below at\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea long wooden pier that lay in a protected inlet of the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eDnieper just below Kiev. He wasn’t sweating now, but\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe climb was a hard one, and he’d walked briskly,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewanting to be here as early as possible to find a slave\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis mother would approve before they’d been picked\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eover and only the sick and wasted were left.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe Khagan-Rus slave market was set apart from the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etown. Its name was the same as that of the prince of\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eKiev: a reminder that there was a tax at each purchase\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat would go directly into Prince Khagan-Rus’s capacious\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epockets.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik turned to Oleg, a man he’d known since they’d\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eboth been boys—wild and passionate and eager to best\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etheir older brothers and acquire their own longboats to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etrade and fight and grow rich, rich enough to buy their\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eown farmsteads sometime in a future that they pondered\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eonly rarely, richer even than their fathers and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eolder brothers.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘We will leave after I buy a female slave. Keep a\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esharp eye, Oleg, for I don’t want a drudge for my\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emother’s longhouse, or a sloe-eyed maid that would unduly\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estrain my father’s faithfulness. He has had no concubine\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efor thirty years. I don’t want him to begin now.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Your mother would break his head open were he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eever to gaze fondly at another woman and you well\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eknow it.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik grinned. ‘‘My mother is a woman of strong\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epassions. Very well, then, I think of my brother’s wife.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSarla is a shy little thing and could easily be governed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eby a clever female, slave or no.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘And your brother is a man of strong appetites, Merrik.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eA female doesn’t necessarily have to be toothsome\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efor Erik to want her. Look at Caylis, I’ll grant you she’s\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea beauty even though her son is close to ten years old\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enow, but Megot, whom he beds just as much, is a plump\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epullet and her chins shake when she laughs.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Aye, ’tis true. We must consider many factors before\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI pick the right female. My mother needs a female slave\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewho will be loyal to her and work only for her. My\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emother wants to teach her to spin, for her fingers stiffen\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand give her pain now. Roran told me this should be an\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eexcellent selection this morning, many slaves were\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebrought in just last night from Byzantium.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Aye, and the great golden city of Miklagard. How I\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshould like to voyage there, Merrik. It is the greatest\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecity in the world, it is said.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Aye, ’tis difficult to believe that more than half a\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emillion people live there. Next summer we will have to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebuild a stronger longboat, for the currents and rapids\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebelow Kiev are vicious. There are seven rapids and each\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eis more deadly than the last. The one called Aifur kills\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emore men than all the others combined. Even the portage\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eis dangerous for there are many vicious tribes living\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ealong the Dnieper waiting for men to come ashore\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewith their longboats to drag them overland to beyond\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe rapids. Aye, we’ll join an armada of other trading\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eships for protection. I don’t wish to die just to see Miklagard\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand the Black Sea.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘The Aifur, huh?’’ Oleg grinned at Merrik. ‘‘You have\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebeen talking to other traders, Merrik. You are already\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epreparing this in your mind, aren’t you?’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Aye, I am, but Oleg, we grow rich trading in Birka\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand Hedeby, for we are known there and trusted. The\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIrish slaves brought more silver than even I believed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epossible. And this year we grew even richer trading our\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eLapp furs in Staraya Ladoga. Remember that man who\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebought every reindeer comb we had? He told me he had\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emore women than he wanted and all of them begged\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecombs from him. He said their hair would beggar him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e ‘‘Nay, we will wait to travel to Miklagard next year.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBe content.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘ ’Tis you who aren’t content, Merrik.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Very well, I will be patient. We return home with\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emore silver than our fathers and brothers have. We are\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003erich, my friend, and there is no one to gainsay us now.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Forget not that lovely blue silk that came from the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eCaliphate, at least that’s what Old Firren claimed.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘He’s a liar who has grown over the years to believe\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis own words, but the material is beyond beautiful.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Aye, and you will continue the lie. Will you give it\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto your bride? You plan to buy your own farmstead now,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik? Or perhaps return with your bride to her\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efather’s?’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik said nothing, but he frowned. During the winter,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis father had negotiated with the Thoragassons,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enot bothering to tell his son until the two fathers had\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecome to agreement. Merrik barely knew the seventeenyear-\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eold Letta. He’d felt anger at his father at such interference,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efor Merrik was, after all, nearly twenty-four\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eyears old, but he’d said nothing. The girl was lovely,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eappeared gentle, and her dowry would be impressive.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe would look closely at her when he returned home,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethen make his decision. But if he wedded her he would\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehave to leave his father’s farmstead, for already his eldest\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebrother and his wife of two years, the gentle Sarla,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elived there and would continue there after their parents\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edied. Surely they would have many babes, and soon it\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewould be too crowded, what with all his father’s and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebrother’s people and his own men and slaves as well.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe shook his head. He disliked thinking of leaving his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehome, but if he wed, he would have to take his wife\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esomewhere, and there was no more land in Vestfold\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat could be farmed. His brother, Rorik, had gone to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHawkfell Island, just off the coast of Britain, and had\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eprospered. Ah, but to leave his home, it was something\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehe didn’t yet wish to do. He also disliked knowing he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas now rich enough to leave.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe said only to Oleg, ‘‘A farmstead and a wife are two\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edecisions a man must weigh carefully.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘That is what my father says, but he is always smiling\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eat me when he says it. Think you he wants me out\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eof his longhouse?’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThere were at least eighty slaves in the pit, as it was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecalled. They were of all ages, both sexes in nearly equal\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enumbers, some few still proud, their shoulders squared,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebut most stood still as stones with their heads bowed,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eknowing what was to come, perhaps praying to their\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egods that the men or women who bought them would\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebe kind.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik walked slowly through the rows. The young\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewomen were lined up on one side, the older women behind\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethem, and the boys and men on the other side of\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe pit. There were guards only behind the men, whips\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ein their hands, watching, ever watching, silent and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emenacing, but they really weren’t concerned. None of\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethis group would cause any problems. They’d been broken\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esufficiently since they’d been captured on raids,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esome of them had been slaves for decades, some even\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eborn of slaves.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was a sight Merrik had seen since he’d been a boy\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhen his father had first taken him to York to buy\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eslaves. This was nothing new, save that this slave market\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewasn’t as grim or as dirty and didn’t smell yet since\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eit was so early in the day and they were in the cool fresh\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eair of Kiev and not in the Danelaw where the Saxons\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esmelled as bad as the slaves, and their stench filled the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eair. Here a man could breathe as he made his selections.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMany of the girls were fine looking and appeared\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eclean enough. They were from all parts of the world,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esome with yellowish skin and beautifully slanted eyes\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand the thickest black hair he’d ever seen, long and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eboard-straight. They were slight, and all had their\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eheads down. There were redheads and blonds from\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSamarkand, some very tall and broadly built, others\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esquat with heavy torsos and short legs who hailed from\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBulgar and beyond. Merrik saw a girl who pleased him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe realized she pleased him too much, for she had the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epale golden hair of his people, pale clear flesh, and a\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elong slender body. He felt a mild spurt of lust and shook\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis head. No, she wouldn’t do for his mother. His\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebrother would soon have her flat on her back, if Merrik\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edidn’t take her first. He wouldn’t provide another concubine\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efor his brother Erik, for unlike his brother, he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esaw how much it hurt Sarla when her husband ignored\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eher at night, then took himself off to bed with one of his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewomen.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe must search for a comely face, but not too comely,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecertainly no more than a pleasant face, perhaps one on\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe broad, flat side. His brother disliked thin women;\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik searched out females with hollow cheeks, showing\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebones. He selected three possible young slave girls,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eturned to search out the slave-auction merchant, Valai,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto bargain. As he waited for Valai to finish with a Swedish\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emerchant who smelled of rotted fish and stale sex,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehe realized he’d seen that same merchant—so obese he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewheezed even as he spoke—the night before with a\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edozen more merchants at the house of a man who had\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emany female slaves to sell. Each merchant was given a\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egirl and they had, each one in turn, with all the others\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elooking on, stripped the girls and had sex there on the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewooden benches that lines the inside wall of the great\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehall. Merrik had felt immediate lust, for he saw that\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethere were still half a dozen girls left and one would be\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis, until he saw a merchant over a girl, and the girl\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas lying there, her eyes closed, so still she could have\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebeen dead, and the fat merchant had shoved into her,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehuffing, his great belly shaking, until, finally, he’d\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003espilled his seed inside her. She’d never opened her eyes.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik saw tears seeping from beneath her closed eyelids,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estreaking down her face. He had left.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe turned away from the fat merchant, and looked\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eindifferently at the long line of men and boys. He froze.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe didn’t know why that of all the scores of men he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elooked directly at the boy, but somehow, once he had,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehe couldn’t seem to look away. The boy was perhaps\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etwelve years old, not older than thirteen. He was so thin\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik could see the long bones clearly in his bare\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003earms, the knobby scabbed elbows, the wrists so thin he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecould wrap his fingers about them twice over, long narrow\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehands held loosely to his sides. His legs, bare from\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe knees down were just as thin and very white where\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethey weren’t blackened and streaked with filth and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003escabs from cuts. He could even see the pale blue veins.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe boy was pathetic and would die soon if he weren’t\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebought by a master who would at least feed him properly.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe’d doubtless been mistreated in the past. He\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas wearing rags and a ripped filthy sealskin.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNot that it concerned Merrik. The boy was a slave\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand would be sold, perhaps to a cruel master, perhaps\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enot, perhaps to a master who would let him buy his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efreedom someday. It was a common practice and perhaps\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe lad would be lucky. It didn’t matter. Ah, but\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethere was something about him that held Merrik very\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estill, that wouldn’t allow him to look away. But he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eforced himself to look away. He wanted to sail from\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eKiev this morning and there was much he still had to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edo before leaving. He turned to go when the boy \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edenly looked up and their eyes met. The boy’s eyes were\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ea gray-blue, two colors that sounded normal, even common,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eparticularly in Norway, but this boy’s eyes were\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edifferent. The gray color was deeper than the rich pewter\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebowl Merrik’s mother had received as a gift upon\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eher wedding to his father, and the blue darker than a\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esea in winter. He could tell that the boy’s flesh was very\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhite despite all the dirt. His brows were dark and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewell-drawn but the tangled, filthy mat of hair on his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehead was too dirty and oily to determine its true color.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIt was simply dull and dark and filthy. The boy was\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebeneath notice were it not for those eyes. They caught\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik cold. Eyes weren’t made filthy; but eyes could\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ereflect a man or woman’s thoughts, and the boy’s eyes\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewere drained empty, dull, accepting. Certainly that\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewasn’t odd. But then, quite suddenly, there was a remarkable\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eshift—where there’d been emptiness, there\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas now coldness and a look of defiance that would\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eprobably get the boy killed or beaten to death if he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edidn’t learn to mask that spark better. In a flash that\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003elook of defiance turned to one of anger, immense anger\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat held such violence and rage, it shook Merrik. Then,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ejust as suddenly, the boy’s eyes became blank again, all\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethat fury and passion buried beneath hopelessness and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eawareness that his lot in life was that of a slave and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eprobably would remain so until he died. It was as if\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik could see the boy withdrawing into himself. He\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecould see him dying and accepting death before his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eeyes.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik roused himself from this ridiculous revery.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe boy was a slave, nothing more. It didn’t matter if\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehe’d been captured from a hovel in a small village or\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efrom a rich farmhouse. Merrik would never see him\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eagain after he left the slave pit. He would cease to think\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eabout him the moment his hand was on the rudder of\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis longboat and the wind from the sails was sharp in\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis face. He shrugged and shook his head. He turned\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethen when Oleg tugged on his arm to point out another\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eslave.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe heard an agonized cry and turned back. The very\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efat merchant, the same Swedish merchant Merrik had\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eseen the night before, the same merchant who had just\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebeen dealing with Valai, had grabbed the boy’s arm and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas pulling him away from the line of other boys and\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emen. He was shrieking that he’d paid too much silver\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003efor the filthy little garla, or puny pig, and he would shut\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eup now or be very sorry for it. But the shouts and cries\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eweren’t all coming from the boy. The most piercing ones\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewere from a small child who had a death grip on the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eboy’s other hand. By all the gods, Merrik thought, it\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas the boy’s little brother and the man hadn’t bought\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehim. The child was screaming, terrified cries that were\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003epathetic, and it made something deep inside him twist\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand cramp and he didn’t understand it. He took a step\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eforward, then saw the fat merchant slap the boy, for he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas now trying to grab his little brother. The merchant\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethen kicked the child hard. Merrik watched him fall\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eonto his face and remain still, saw him just lie there,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehuddled into himself, sobbing. The boy hit the merchant,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003enot a hard hit, for Merrik doubted he had the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estrength, but a fist in that oaf’s fat belly that surely had\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto hurt. The merchant raised a fist, but then lowered it.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe cursed, threw the boy over his shoulder and walked\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eaway.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe child rose slowly, holding his ribs, and just stood\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethere, not crying out now, just staring after his brother,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand suddenly, quite without warning, Merrik couldn’t\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebear it. Something gave way deep inside him. No, he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecouldn’t bear it, he wouldn’t bear it. ‘‘Wait here,’’ he said\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto Oleg.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe was on his knees in front of the child. He gently\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ecupped the child’s chin in his large hand and lifted it.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe tears were still streaming down his dirty face, leaving\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eobscene white marks in their wake. ‘‘What is your\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ename?’’ Merrik said.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe little boy sniffed loudly. He stared at Merrik, his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esmall features so drawn with fear that Merrik said, ‘‘I\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewon’t hurt you. What is your name?’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe child said quite clearly, his words only mildly\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eaccented, ‘‘My name is Taby. That fat man took my—’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHis voice died, just stopped cold. He looked at Merrik\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand the tears were thicker now and the child was sniveling\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand hiccuping. And there was such fear in the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003echild’s eyes that Merrik wanted to snarl like a wolf, but\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehe didn’t. He didn’t want the child to fear him more.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eHe said only, his voice low, slow, ‘‘What is your\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebrother’s name?’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe child ducked his head down and said nothing.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Is he your brother?’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe child nodded, nothing more. He was very afraid.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik didn’t blame him.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik had looked up as he’d spoken, but the merchant\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewas gone. The child was alone. He looked down\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eat that bowed head, saw the child’s thin shoulders\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eheave and shake with his crying. He knew well what\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebecame of children who were alone and were slaves.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMost of them died, and if they didn’t, well, perhaps\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewhat became of them was even worse. Suddenly, Merrik\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003edidn’t want this child to die. He took the little boy’s\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehand, felt the filth on the child’s flesh, felt the delicate\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebones that would snap like twigs at the slightest pressure,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand something lurched inside him. The child\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewasn’t as thin as his brother, and Merrik knew why.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe older brother had given what food he’d gotten to\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe little boy. ‘‘You will come with me, Taby. I will take\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eyou from this place. You will trust me.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe child shuddered at his words and didn’t raise his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehead or move.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘I know it is difficult for you to believe me. Come,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eTaby, I won’t hurt you, I swear it.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘My brother,’’ the child whispered, and he raised his\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehead then and looked at Merrik with pathetic hope. ‘‘My\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ebrother is gone. What will happen to him?’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Come,’’ he said, ‘‘trust me.’’ He walked away from\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethe line of slaves, the little boy’s hand tucked firmly in\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis large one.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik knew he would buy the child for a very small\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eweight of silver, and he was right. Soon he had completed\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis business with Valai, a small man with a\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etwinkling eye and a shrewd, ruthless brain. Valai\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewasn’t, however, necessarily cruel, just matter-of-fact\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eand spoke his mind when it couldn’t hurt his trade. He\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003esaid to Merrik, ‘‘I know you aren’t a pederast, thus the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003echild will bring you no pleasure and will be only a burden\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eto you.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘Aye, but it doesn’t matter. I want him.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘‘It’s possible that someone would buy him and he\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ewould be raised well, used only to service his masters.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNot a bad life for such as he. Better than dying, which\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eis what would happen at many other places.’’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik said nothing but he felt his guts surge with\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003erage. Aye, the best that could happen would be that the\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003echild would be raped endlessly, then trained to pleasure\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003emen, those damned Arabs who kept both sexes in their\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ekeeping to pleasure them at their whim. After Taby\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003egrew up and no longer had a boy’s allure, he would be\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethrown into the fields to work over crops until he died.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAnd Merrik couldn’t bear that. He looked down at Taby.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eNo, he wouldn’t allow that to happen. He didn’t \u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003etion what he would do with the child. He paid Valai,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ethen went to find Oleg.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eIf Oleg believed him mad, he said nothing, merely\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003estared at the small boy, then grinned and nodded, rubbing\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehis hands together. Oleg always loved an adventure.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik realized he was thinking he would grant\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003ehim one this day. And Oleg would probably be right,\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eMerrik thought.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Berkley","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46300905504997,"sku":"NP9780515113518","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780515113518.jpg?v=1767731751","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/products\/lord-of-ravens-peak-isbn-9780515113518","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}