A Superior Slave (Ganymede Quartet Book 0.5) (7 page)

Charlie shook Martin awake as they neared the city. The sun was starting to set and the buildings were all gilded with western light, the view very dramatic. They’d all seen pictures, of course, but the city was still shockingly big, like a mountain range made of buildings. Mr. Jacob and Mr. Elliott insisted that they close the windows, and they all saw the wisdom of this as they entered the densely smoky tunnel beneath the city streets that led to the train station.

At the station, the sudden stillness of the train after so many rattling, swaying hours was unnerving, and the boys were all unsteady on their feet. Mr. Elliott and Mr. Jacob made them wait until the boys from the Orpheus and Perseus cars had disembarked and been hustled from the station by their own minders before allowing them to step out onto the platform. Winston and Rex were enlisted once again to carry the hamper with their auction clothes and they were all herded out to the street.

Just as they’d been told, the city was loud and crowded, and passers-by eyed them with suspicious and studied disinterest. They clung together nervously, unsure of themselves. The city simulations back on the farm had been poor preparation. A pair of electric omnibuses waited for them, the drivers standing on the sidewalks with cardboard signs bearing the House’s name. There were omnibuses and wagons waiting for boys from other Houses, as well, and just departing with the boys from Orpheus and Perseus. The Standards all went with Mr. Elliott and the twins in one omnibus, the Choice and Superior boys with Mr. Jacob in the other.

The boys all crowded against the windows, wide-eyed. They were dumbstruck by the sheer variety of the city. The street was crowded with a multitude of carriages and wagons, every imaginable version of every sort of conveyance, and the sidewalks were teeming with people of all ages and colors, with and without slaves accompanying them. The buildings were grand, much grander than anything on the farm, certainly, and much more impressive than anything they’d ever seen in the little rural market town. The streetlights were coming on as they rolled past. This street, Mr. Jacob informed them, was Park Avenue, and most likely some of them would go to families who lived on Park, albeit north of the train station.

“The best streets are 5th, Park and Madison Avenues and their cross streets,” Mr. Jacob informed them. “It’s unlikely you will go to homes elsewhere, unless your masters reside in other cities. Families from other cities often
do
come to this auction because the stock sold here is of such high quality.” At this, Mr. Jacob smiled and patted Sandy, who was nearest. “You’re really such a lovely group of boys. We’re very proud to be offering you.”

“How do we compare to last year’s boys?” asked a nervous-sounding Stevie, one of the Choice boys. “Do you think we’ll do as well as them?”

Mr. Jacob smiled. “Ganymede boys do well every year. You’re the third class I’ve taken to auction since I began this work,” he said, “and I can tell you that you’re the most promising group Mr. Elliott and I have yet had the pleasure to guide.”

Although Martin wasn’t sure he believed that Mr. Jacob’s relentless insistence on their superiority was genuine, it was reassuring nonetheless.

The ride downtown was uneventful except that Terry tickled Jerome to a disruptive extent and Mr. Jacob scolded them for their immature behavior.

“That’s the auction hall,” Mr. Jacob noted, pointing out the window at a substantial building with a set of massive, green-painted doors. “We’ll be going in through the back today, but when you leave, it will be through those doors.” This information had the effect of subduing them all. Somehow, seeing those green doors made it seem that much more real, that much more serious.

The omnibus turned the corner, then into the alley, and they pulled to a stop behind the wagons and omnibuses for the disembarking Orpheus and Perseus boys.

“Can we get a look at them, Mr. J?” Terry asked hopefully. “Check out our competition?”

“You have no competition,” Mr. Jacob said, rather predictably. “No, we’ll wait till they’ve gone inside.”

They all jostled for position and pressed their faces against the windows, doing their best to get a good look at the offerings from the other Houses. The Orpheus boys wore the same sort of faded and patched garments that Ganymede boys did, though theirs were a darker blue. The Perseus boys were in faded green and, as the Ganymede boys watched, they were hustled inside the building by their minders. Martin did not have a chance to evaluate the Perseus boys, but there were several fellows amongst the Orpheus offerings whom he judged very handsome, even by Ganymede standards.

Mr. Jacob waited until the Orpheus boys went inside, and then he let them out into the alley, and Mr. Elliott did the same with the Standard boys. The alley smelled of urine and the pavement was wet underfoot, although it did not appear to have rained recently. It was, all in all, not a place Martin cared to linger. Mr. Jacob signed some paperwork for a representative of the auction hall who met them at the door, and they made their way down a dimly-lit corridor to a door with a frosted glass panel with GANYMEDE painted in gilt-limned black letters.

“Inside, please,” Mr. Jacob said, ushering them through. “Don’t dawdle, boys.”

They entered a room that seemed to be part office, part kitchen. There were a dozen unfamiliar gentlemen waiting for them there, all very stylishly dressed, and all wearing critical expressions. The room smelled of coffee and cigarettes and warring colognes.

“So this is the group, then, Jacob?” asked a frowning blond fellow. “Not what I expected, based on their photographs.”

“I can’t imagine what you expected, Mr. Paulsen,” Mr. Jacob said huffily. “They’re
better
than the photographs.” He turned to the boys and said, “These gentlemen are Ganymede’s salesmen. These are the men who will be helping you find the best possible homes. You’ll need to listen to them and do as they say, understood?” He cocked his head to the side and looked at them expectantly. “Understood?”

“Yes, Mr. J,” they all said, more or less in unison. Martin was wary of these glowering dandies and didn’t want to trust them with something as important as his future.

“Which one is top boy again?” asked Mr. Paulsen, taking in the whole group with a brisk sweep of his hand. “Which is our moneymaker?”

Mr. Jacob frowned at this, but he said, “Martin, come forward,” and Martin did, doing his best not to seem sulky or defiant.

Martin smiled at Mr. Paulsen and bowed his head. “At your service, Sir.”

Mr. Paulsen stepped forward and peered at his face. “
You’re
top boy?”

Taken aback, Martin blinked, startled. “Th-that’s what I’m told, Sir.”

Mr. Paulsen turned to Mr. Jacob. “Well, he’s certainly good-looking, but he can’t possibly wear those glasses in the showroom. Can he see without them?” He turned to Martin. “Can you see without them?”

“I can see up close, Sir.”

“Take them off.” Mr. Paulsen asked Martin to describe people in the room until he was satisfied that Martin could see well enough without his glasses to manage during the viewing in the morning.

“It does say in the catalog that he requires glasses,” Mr. Paulsen pointed out to Mr. Jacob, who did not seem to like the idea of offering Martin up without them. “It’s right there for them to read, so it’s certainly not deceptive to have him do without for a few hours.” Again, he turned to Martin. “Tomorrow morning, give your glasses to Jacob to keep safe for you, all right? You can have them back after you’re sold.”

Martin could say nothing but, “Yes, Sir.”

The salesmen began evaluating and questioning all the boys in scattershot fashion. Like the rest, Martin was very accustomed to his attributes being discussed openly. Most of the salesmen seemed to think he was very attractive, though several expressed some concern about his height. A few thought he was a bit too thin and took Mr. Jacob and Mr. Elliott to task for it.

“You could have been fattening him up weeks ago,” Mr. Paulsen said, chagrined. “Him and the smaller colored boy, whatshisname…?”

“Do you mean Jerome?” asked Mr. Elliott. “Jerome is
slender
, but I wouldn’t say he was
underweight
, and neither is Martin.”

“A bunch of handsome skeletons,” put in another of the salesmen. “This whole group is scrawny.”

“You’re exaggerating,” Mr. Jacob insisted. “They’re fit and strong and very healthy.”

“Well, those are the sorts of complaints we’re going to hear, you know,” Paulsen pointed out. “Buyers always find fault with something.” He patted Mr. Jacob on the shoulder. “It’s all right. I know you and Elliott have done your best with these boys.”

“You should
see
how much they eat,” Mr. Jacob said fretfully, arms crossed over his chest. “They’re like hogs at a trough! I don’t know
how
we could have possibly fed them more!”

Paulsen gave Mr. Jacob another pat. “It’s not a problem, Jacob, not really. I promise we’ll sell each and every one of them,” he said reassuringly. “They’ll all meet their reserves, I guarantee it.”

Mr. Jacob shrugged off his hand. “They’re absolutely
lovely
boys. They’ll sell themselves.” Looking at Mr. Jacob’s face, it was suddenly obvious how tired he was, and how little he appreciated these criticisms of his charges, his
work
.

Martin struggled not to panic. Was he really so unappealing after all? He’d perhaps been given an inflated sense of himself at Ganymede, where he’d been an acknowledged beauty, and it was all too possible his charms had a diminished luster in the wider world. His cohort had been full of the sort of dark-haired boys Martin himself found so attractive, but his own coloring had been considered unusual. However, that might not be the case here and now, off the farm. Perhaps the city was full of boys with strawberry hair and exceptionally green eyes. Perhaps his hair wasn’t red
enough
. And he was too tall and skinny besides.

Mr. Paulsen clapped his hands together loudly. “Listen up, boys! I want the Standards over there near the stove, the Choice boys in that corner, and the Superiors here in the middle of the room. Go on, then; you know where you belong.”

Martin stayed where he was standing, and was joined by Charlie, Stuart, Leo and Georgie. Sandy, Noah, Jerome, Ben, Mitch, Steve, Terry and Paul went to the Choice corner. The Standard boys all crowded together in the kitchen end of the room: Artie, Bradley, Lloyd, Philip, Randy, Rex, Otto, Eric, Winston and Sam.

“It’s a shame you haven’t brought us more colored boys,” remarked one of the salesmen. “There’s a greater demand every year.”

“You need to be talking to management,” Mr. Elliott pointed out. “Not us. We don’t have any say in what sorts of boys are bred.”

“We watched the Perseus boys come in,” said another salesman. “Nearly half
their
boys are colored this year.” His tone implied that the Perseus salesmen would have an easier time of it with their fashionable stock.

“Well you have three wonderful colored boys,” Mr. Elliott said. “Jerome, Artie and Philip should go high, then, if you’re correct about what these prospective masters are looking for. You’ve got an excellent group of boys overall, and you’re certainly not helping morale complaining about their imaginary shortcomings! Too
thin
! Not
colored
enough!” Mr. Elliott shook his head as if disappointed in the salesmen. “You should be building them up, encouraging them! Tomorrow is the biggest day of their
lives
!”

The salesmen divided up into groups and began interviewing the boys in earnest while Mr. Jacob and Mr. Elliott prepared them a light meal of canned soup served up in enameled mugs. If they ate more substantial food, then they’d
digest
more substantial food, which could cause problems in the morning when they were being examined by prospective masters in the showroom. Martin was used to eating large meals and felt the lack, but was quite sure he could bear it if it meant the difference between finding a master and going back to the farm in disgrace.

Salesmen had questions about his hobbies and schoolwork. They questioned why he was top boy rather than Stuart, who they all seemed to favor. Martin could see why they felt this way. Stuart was exceptionally handsome, slim and fit, not too tall, and very accomplished. Martin wasn’t entirely sure why he’d been designated top, though perhaps it had something to do with his eagerness to be on the bottom in sex. That was definitely Martin’s preference, but given the choice, most of the other boys would prefer to be on top. However, with a master you wouldn’t be given any choice.

Mr. Jacob had Otto and Bradley collect all the soup mugs and then called an end to the questions. “They need to be shown the bathroom,” he told the salesmen. “They need to know where they’ll be sleeping.”

There were five toilet stalls and a long line of shower nozzles in a narrow, tiled room, and the boys took turns in the toilets. For sleeping, they’d be in another narrow room, this one crammed with cots big enough for just one boy at a time. To the boys, all used to sleeping piled together like puppies, this was a rude shock.

“But can’t we sleep with our friends, Mr. E?” Sandy asked, sounding bereft.

“No,” Mr. Elliott told him firmly. “The cots won’t hold two boys. Sleep near one another if you must.”

“But I don’t think I can sleep without Artie, Mr. E,” Sam said. “What if I can’t sleep?”

“We have laudanum if you can’t sleep on your own,” Mr. Elliott said. “Tomorrow you’ll be sleeping alone in a strange bed, or even with a strange boy. Sleeping in your own bed in a room full of your brothers isn’t going to be so bad.”

“Can we sleep together on the floor, then, Mr. J?” Sandy asked, appealing to the more sympathetic Mr. Jacob. “If the beds won’t hold two of us, then isn’t it all right to sleep on the floor?”

But Mr. Jacob wasn’t going to countermand Mr. Elliott’s instructions. He shook his head firmly and said, “No. You’ll sleep by yourselves, in the beds provided,” and refused to listen to any further pleading.