"What do you think?"

It was ten kinds of a viper's pit. Every conceivable exit had a man posted outside, his blade already drawn. They were expecting trouble. And white was not the best color for sneaking around in shadows. Eragos Feareborne squinted at the wooden structure for a long moment and thought to himself very carefully. It was no wonder that a group of Riders, passing through the city, would find themselves drawn into this. The civilians weren't up to the task of wiping out an entire cadre of well-armed, professional slave smugglers. Eragos was not entirely certain that the Riders with him were enough to handle the job either. But as he stared into the inky black all he could think of were the tattered, frayed human beings that were huddling together in hopes that their new master would be kinder than their former. That Trone sanctioned slavery was to him a barbarism that had no place in the 'Free' Cities. He would take any pretense and any life to see it ended, if only for a night, and to whisper in the ears of every slave that they were free. This was no way to live, and no way to make a living.

"How many of them are there?" this voice belonged to one of the Walkers, who were heartily sick of trudging along dirt roads for no visible gain.

"Does it matter?" another gruff voice demanded. "We've got twelve."

"Five," Eragos corrected stonily. "The Walkers are going to sit this one out."

"But-"

"If you were really being honest, you would admit to being terrified and go look after the horses," Eragos informed him.

They were supposed to be taking the Riders to Oisea to meet their instructors, who would be urging the young men to do a great deal more walking. It was supposed to be something for him to do to keep him from getting cabin fever. Literally and figuratively. The Lady Vera seemed to have forgotten that he existed, and if there was something happening Eragos wasn't aware of it. After everything that he'd put at risk to back her plays he felt like he deserved better. Then again there was probably something he was missing. There usually was something he was missing. Torchlight distant as it caressed the surface of the building. Muted torches, spread out in between the guards. Wouldn't want that naked steel to catch any light - it would be difficult to explain why slaves were being kept under armed gaurd to even the most simple of citizens. Everyone knew it was illegal to sell slaves anywhere in the Free Cities.

So there they were, five White Riders and seven White Walkers crouched behind a thicket of trees and observing the building. None of them had been expecting a visit from the city's civil guardsmen, asking for help on something like this. There must have been a chest full of gold changing hands right now. The seized funds would be a welcome addition to the war chest in Simanel, but it was about more than that. It was about doing the right thing. That was what all of them were wondering at that moment - at least, the Riders were. The Walkers were caught up in the excitement that comes before a battle. If the Riders stormed the building, would they kill the slaves? Hard to prove that they were selling corpses, after all. Eragos had seen it before, and it disgusted him every time. So what were they supposed to do? Charge in as though it was nothing and hope for the best? He wanted nothing more than to bury his blade in the chest of every man who sold human life.

( It wasn't to be. )