Date: Tue, 13 Apr 1999 21:52:03 -0700
From: The Storyteller <mail@boytales.com>
Subject: Zhentilar Boys Chapter 1

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WARNING!
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The following is a BoyLove fantasy (Wizards, Magic and BOYS) story, and as
such it contains ADULT subject matter that may be objectionable to some
readers.  If you are offended by Man/Boy love, DO NOT READ THIS STORY.  If
you are under 18 years of age DO NOT READ THIS STORY.  The author DOES NOT
encourage or suggest illegal behavior of any kind.

This story is pure fiction; any resemblance to persons or events in real
life is purely coincidental.  This story is intended as ADULT entertainment
ONLY.

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Please direct all comments to:

E-mail: mail@boytales.com

Web Site: http://www.boytales.com

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The Zhentarim

Copyright 1999 by The Storyteller

Zhentilar Boys

Book 1

Chapter 1

The icy wind was so strong it was blowing the snow sideways as the tall
stranger pushed forward hoping he would find a town soon. He had been
traveling in this snowstorm since well before sunrise and it was now at
least an hour into daylight. To make matters worse, he wasn't dressed for
this kind of weather. Consequently it would not be long before he froze to
death. Already, the aching numbness was creeping into his feet.

He pushed on for another half mile or so and was just about ready to stop
and look for shelter when he spotted what appeared to be lights twinkling
off to his right in the distance. He wasn't sure if it was a town or a
campfire but anything would do at the moment. If it wasn't a town, he could
resume his trek after a few hours of rest and some food. His feet were
really starting to hurt so he gathered up the last of his strength and
hurried as quickly as he could through the foot deep snow.

He was near total exhaustion when he came upon a sign that read,
"Hundlestone."

"Finally," he muttered into the storm and with renewed vigor headed toward
the lights.

The overland route linking the Icewind Dale to southerly Faerun, the
"Northern Means" runs through a pass in the Spine of the World occupied by
Hundlestone. It's a place of low houses with sharply sloped roof designed
to shed snow and boulders falling from the mountains. The houses are built
low to the ground, as most of the living space is cut out of the rock in a
series of cellar rooms.

When he arrived at the Inn he noticed a wagon out front and recognized it
as the style used by slavers.

"How convenient," he thought to himself and smiled.

Something bothered him though. Slavers usually travel in the late evening
and at night and are out of site well before dawn. It had been daylight for
some time already, and not only that, slavers rarely travel in weather like
this because of the extra cost it involves to keep their cargo alive and
well. Something wasn't right about this, which told him that maybe, just
maybe, he had been lucky enough to run right into just what he was looking
for.

He came through the door with a gust of wind and a flurry of snow. The
barkeep half turned from facing the back bar and bellowed over his
shoulder; "Sit where ya like we've plenty of room at this early hour, how
'bout a mug and some hot griddle cakes to warm the spirit on this stormy
morning!" He suggested in a friendly but gruff manner.

"Fine," the stranger hissed in a voice that could only be described as a
cross between a snake and a frog.

He glanced around the room again and spotted a table next to the large fire
where he could see the door and the bar. He eased himself into one of the
heavy wooden chairs that surrounded the table with his back to the fire and
relaxed a bit, surveying his surroundings.

The Inn was typical for a small northern village. The outer walls were
solid stone a foot thick. The main entrance opened directly into a large
common room that had a low ceiling with a massive stone fireplace in the
middle and a long bar that ran along the outer wall to the left. Three
large kegs sat on their side in racks on the back bar. There was a door at
the far end of the bar that led into the kitchen and a wide staircase
opposite the main entrance that led to a kind of half level. The Inn, like
most of the other buildings was built into the side of a hill with at least
two levels below ground to fight the cold.

There were two other customers in the place, one at a table on his far
right who looked like he had been camped their since the evening before,
and probably had, and the other was a huge heavily muscled character who
sat at the bar.

He figured the man at the bar had to be at least seven feet tall, add to
that the fact that he was built like a siege engine and the huge man was
quite an impressive sight. He had windblown light brown, almost blond, near
shoulder length hair a thick reddish brown beard and wore a nasty looking
cat-o-nine-tails, two medium sized leather pouches bulging with coin, and
an elaborate sword.

It was the sword that caught the stranger's attention. The hilt was
ornately tooled gold adorned with several large rubies, blue sapphires,
emeralds, and diamonds. He recognized it immediately as the type carried by
very high-ranking Zhentarim Slavers.

The Zhentarim are the most feared and powerful underground organization in
Faerun (Fay-ROON). They are extremely efficient, well trained, and highly
organized. If he was a Zhentarim, why would he dress like a barbarian yet
carry a sword that revealed his identity? Stranger still what was he doing
this far north to begin with? As far as he knew, and he was well informed,
The Zhentarim did not operate this far north.  Nobody told him anything
about possibly having to deal with a 'Zhentarim' slaver.  In fact, they
said that the Zhentarim knew nothing of the operation, which was why they
had only sent him.  Of course, there was always the chance that the
Zhentarim didn't know anything and the appearance of one here was just a
coincidence, but that didn't answer the question of what he was doing here.

The barkeep interrupted his reverie with food and a large tankard of black
ale.

"Will ya be needin' a room?" The barkeep inquired as he dropped the heavy
mug full of ale on the thick wooden table.

"I don't know for certain, I'll let you know if I do." The longhaired man
rasped. He dropped two coppers on the table and raised the mug to his lips
taking a long draught of the dark brew. His long weathered hair hid most of
his features as he tipped his head back. The brew wasn't the best but it
was refreshing and cool.

The barkeep studied the stranger for a moment longer, then continued.

"Where ya headed in this storm?"

"That's my own business!"  The stranger glared.

"Suit yourself," the barkeep huffed and headed back to the bar.

When the barkeep got back behind the bar, the slaver told him that he would
be back after tending to some "business" outside and "there better be
another whiskey waiting for me when I get back!" With that he slammed his
fist down on the bar, heaved himself up and stomped outside.

Just the opportunity he had hoped for. When the slaver was gone, the
stranger walked over to stand right next to where the slaver was sitting
just moments before.

He reached into his tunic and pulled out a few copper pieces and a small
vial, which he concealed in his palm.

Chucking the coins on the table he rasped, "I'll take some whiskey."

The barkeep was fiddling with the tap on one of the ale kegs when he
replied, "You want the cheap stuff or the good stuff?"

"Cheap" The stranger said pointing to the coins on the bar.

The barkeep came over to where the stranger was standing, scooped up the
coins, pocketed them, and turned to fetch the whiskey.

He waited until the barkeep had his head under the back counter and then he
pulled the stopper out of the little vial.

Just as he raised the vial over the small glass the barkeep had filled for
the slaver, a loud clanging crash cut through the morning gloom like flying
shards of glass. The barkeep jumped and hit his head on the underside of
the back bar. The other customer sitting across the common room looked in
the direction of the door but was obviously too drunk to react much. The
stranger froze for just a moment to recover his composure then carefully
poured several drops of the dark liquid into the slaver's shot glass.

As he was slipping the vial safely back into his tunic another crash
pierced the silence.

"What you doing in there, wench?" The barkeep roared as he straightened up
with the whiskey bottle in one hand rubbing his head with the other. He
fetched a small whiskey glass off the back bar, set it in front of the
stranger and filled it.

The stranger lifted the whiskey glass halfway to his lips and hissed, "You
sure it hasn't got something to do with that slaver?"

He straightened up to his full 6'2", drained his glass and turned toward
the door, his eyes squinting into a hate-filled sneer. After a few moments
he walked back to his table by the fire and sat down.

The barkeep waddled into the kitchen to see what was going on. A large
woman was scrambling around chasing a cat that had knocked some pots off of
a shelf.

Back in the common room, the door flew open and the slaver bounded in. The
other two in the room averted their attention elsewhere.

"Barkeep!" He boomed as he made his way to the bar and sat down.

The barkeep hurried back from the kitchen. "What would ye like M' Lord?" He
asked.

The slaver raised the glass of liquor and held it out to the barkeep, "Give
me the best in the house, this is garbage," he said and poured the poisoned
whiskey on the floor at the barkeep's feet.

"This outa cover a bottle of your best and the finest room in the house for
as long as I decide to stay," he replied and reached into one of his
bulging pouches, drew out a large gold coin and tossed it toward the rotund
barkeep.

The barkeep caught the coin and looked at it, his eyes widened in
disbelief. The coin was a gold Zhentarim Dragon and was easily worth a
month's pay for most folk. This would buy the big man anything he wanted at
the Inn for a week.

The stranger blanched but held his composure. Either the slaver somehow
knew what he had done, or he was just picky. In any case, he wasn't about
to take any chances so he decided the best thing to do would be to slip out
unnoticed and return later to finish his business.

The barkeep reached under the bar, pulled out an expensive looking bottle
of liquor, retrieved a fresh glass and filled it saying, "This is the best
there is, comes all the way from Waterdeep."

"It better be..."

While the two continued discussing the whiskey, the stranger took the
opportunity to slip out unnoticed.

As the stranger was making his exit, a young boy of about nine or so came
into the common room from the kitchen. He had long wavy golden blond hair,
bright pure blue eyes and a dimple on each cheek. His skin was perfectly
smooth with a light golden tan and he was slender but muscular for his
age. He stood 4'2" and wore a tunic that was tied around his waist with a
strip of leather. The tunic went to just about three inches below the
waistline and flayed out a little from the rope so it just covered the top
if the boy's butt, it had a 'V' neck that exposed his smooth chest and
young muscles, and half length sleeves. He also had on a pair of light tan
trousers made from some kind of soft animal hide that fit snug but not
tight. His shoes were also made of some kind of soft leather with a flat
sole. Everything was well worn and dirty from work and sweat. Despite the
worn-out appearance of his clothing, the boy was stunning in an almost
dreamlike way. His rose red lips, high cheekbones, sharp features, bright
blue almond shaped eyes, and perfectly proportioned body would make anyone
who laid eyes on him stare in wonder at his innocent beauty. Everyone, that
is, EXCEPT the barkeep who deeply resented his very existence and had tried
on numerous occasions to rid himself of the boy.

"Can I have my meal now master Fallon? I did all my morning work." The boy
sang.

"AFTER you fetch the cook some more honey for tonight's ham." The barkeep
grumbled and turned back to the bar.

The boy ran back into the kitchen and grabbed his sheepskin coat, pulled on
his oiled leather boots over his soft leather shoes, shouted something to
the cook, who was busy at the huge iron stove, and bounded out the kitchen
door at full speed.

As the boy rounded the front of the Inn he ran right smack into the wagon
and fell to the ground on his butt. He sat there dazed for a couple of
moments then he turned and put his hand on the slushy ground to push
himself up. His hand slipped in the mud and he fell hard on his side
hurting his hip.

Just then he was jerked at least two feet off the ground by the back of his
neck and twisted around in mid-air so he was looking directly into the face
of the giant slaver.

The boy was so scared all he could do is shiver with fright. "Don't hurt
me!" The boy yelped, his eyes misty with fright, arms jerking.

The huge slaver lifted him a little higher and perched him on his other arm
then let go of his neck and placed his hand in the middle of the boy's back
to steady him.

"Watch yourself little one, you're liable to break something running around
like that not paying attention to where you're going." He cradled the boy
in his arms like a baby and carried him back into the Inn, holding him
close to his body.

He walked over and sat the boy on the bar with his feet dangling over the
edge. His bright blue eyes were filled with unshed tears causing them to
sparkle in the candlelight. He was still terrified. The giant backed away a
little to give the little guy some space; the boy was having a strange
affect on him and he had no idea why.

At that moment Master Fallon returned from the kitchen and noticed the boy
sitting on the bar. The expression on his face immediately turned to anger
as he strode over to where the boy was sitting, grabbed the back of his
collar and roughly jerked him backwards over the bar, then dropped him on
the stone floor.

The boy screamed, "Please don't hurt me, the..."

A stinging blow to the cheek cut off his words in mid-sentence. The barkeep
grabbed his coat again and started dragging him toward the kitchen.

Master Fallon was almost to the kitchen door when the Zhentarim Slaver
landed a bone-shattering blow to his kidney so powerful that the overweight
brute flew into the back bar, breaking several bottles of wine and liquor.

The boy, not knowing what to make of all this, got shakily to his feet and
staggered out of the Inn.

The slaver pressed the tip of his sword into the barkeep's throat and
boomed, "If you ever touch that boy again, I'll break you into so many
pieces no one will recognize you."

"This is none of your business, YOU don't have to feed the little
brat. He's nothin but trouble and I don't have the money to waste on him."
The barkeep blubbered.

"If you so much as touch that little boy again, I will kill you," he
repeated and for emphasis he gave a quick jab with his sword into the man's
throat. The sword was razor sharp and easily penetrated the skin drawing
blood. The huge slaver turned around to look for the boy, but he was
nowhere in sight.

Not feeling much like staying around the inn, he went outside to check on
his wagon. He looked over everything to make sure nothing was amiss, then
he took an inventory of his supplies and decided he'd better restock a few
things.

As the giant slaver headed to the first stop for supplies, he pulled out
scroll from his greatcoat and unrolled it.  It was the letter that prompted
this journey. It had arrived about two and a half weeks ago from an old
friend he hadn't heard from in over two years. The trip, which was about
four hundred twenty miles, took him just over sixteen days.

  
My Dear Friend,
 
It is most urgent that you come to see me at once. Do not let anyone know
of your plans. Bring a wagon.

Stop in Hundlestone on the way, there is something there that you must find
and bring to me. You will know when you have found it. It will be marked
with a crescent moon but the mark will not be in plain sight.

It is in your nature to find that which you seek.
 
Larzon
 
"How can I find something if I have no idea what I'm looking for?" He
mussed to himself and frowned. He would stay in town for a few days and
keep his mind alert and his eyes open. If nothing turned up in three or
four days he would go his friend and find out what this is all about.

By late afternoon he had rounded up the supplies he needed and remembered
his horses who had spent the entire day in the cold. The horses were
covered with a heavy wool horse blanket but this weather was still far too
cold to spend the night in. He started back to the wagon when he noticed
that the peculiar stranger who had earlier tried to poison him was now
following him. He wasn't sure the stranger had been following him all day
or if he had just caught up with him again, no matter, he knew the stranger
would probably try something tonight and he would deal with him then.

He went back into the Inn and was greeted by a fairly large crowd of mostly
dwarves and gnomes and several humans. He stopped a serving boy and asked
him if the Inn had a stable where he could shelter his horses during his
stay.  The boy looked up at him and his eyes widened in awe at the man's
sheer size.

"Aye they do my lord, it's on the south side of the Inn," he replied with a
captivating smile. The boy turned around at the sound of someone calling
for another ale and spotted a dwarf with his mug raised so he hurried off
in that direction.

While he was there, the slaver quickly scanned the room but saw no sign of
the stranger.

He led his horses around and found the stables. They were completely
enclosed which was not unusual this far north as the horses would freeze
otherwise. This was merely the beginning of the cold season and the
temperature was already frigid, it would sometimes get so cold in the
middle of winter this far north the oil lamps would freeze if they were
left outside.

He knocked on the double doors and a few seconds later a man dressed in
heavy furs greeted him.

"Take good care of my horses and don't let anyone near the wagon."

"Yes my lord, I will!" The man replied

Just then a horse approached from behind and the slaver turned to see whom
it was. A man wearing a long fur coat, white fur gloves, and shiny black
boots was riding his horse toward them. The man dismounted and came over to
him extending his hand in greeting.

"Ah here with the goods I see!"

"What are you referring to?"

"Why the slave auction at the Old Keep tonight, of course.  Surely that is
what you are here for at this time of year, no!...Well, I must be off, not
much time left before I have to be at the Old Keep."

"Yes of course!"  The slaver replied catching on quickly and deciding to
play along.

The wealthy gentleman turned his horse over to the stable hand and turned
again to the slaver.

"Well then...Good evening Sir," He said tipping his hat slightly.

"Good evening" The slaver nodded.

The man strutted off and the slaver stood there watching him as he went
around the corner. His eyes narrowed. He wasn't aware of any trading going
on up here and certainly nothing so special that it would attract a noble
or town official. This was definitely worth looking into and he never
passed up the opportunity to acquire new goods.

He turned his attention back to the stable hand, "Would you mind telling me
where the old keep is and forget you ever heard this conversation," then he
retrieved a silver coin and gave it to the man.

"The old keep is down the way about a half mile out if town going north it
will be on your left, look into the woods and you will see the trail, now
what conversation was that you were talking about?"  The man said and
smiled.

"Excellent" the slaver replied as he mounted the wagon and headed for the
keep. The horses would have to brave the cold just a little while longer;
as long as they were moving they would be fine.

As he rode through the small village he kept thinking about the boy that
ran into his wagon. For some reason he just couldn't get the child out if
his mind and it wasn't for a lack of trying. He had been trying to forget
him all afternoon but the slavers thoughts just kept drifting back to the
boy. There was something about the child that he couldn't get out of his
mind but he couldn't figure out what it was. The boy commanded
attention. And then there was the fact that he had cradled the boy in his
massive arms as if he was his own child. The slaver had no family
whatsoever and that's the way he wanted to keep it. Family made a person
vulnerable, that and love, and he vowed a long time ago to avoid both
vices. Earlier when he had turned around after dealing with the barkeep and
the boy was nowhere in sight, he had felt a deep sense of loss and
dread. It was as if he was actually afraid that he wouldn't see the child
again. This was all so out of character for him that it disturbed him
deeply.

He was Zhentarim and not just a Zhentarim but one of the most ruthless and
unforgiving Zhentarim on the entire continent, known for his cruelty and
lack of feeling. For him to succumb to petty feelings of any kind, let
alone love or compassion, is unthinkable. And yet that is exactly what had
happened, and not towards a long time friend but to a mere boy, and a
pheasant boy at that. True, the boy was attractive and cute but these
feelings were so alien to him that he could not identify them. Despite all
of this he knew that he would kill anyone who harmed the boy and this was
the most disturbing fact of all. He had had so many whores and slaves in
his time that he had lost count years ago and never once had he ever felt
anything for them.

The weather had turned into a blizzard and he was having a difficult time
seeing. He figured that he was about a thousand feet from the village so he
started to keep a close eye to his left and travel slowly to he would not
miss the keep. The forest loomed on either side of him and he heard no
sound other than the driving wind and snow.

He was beginning to wonder if the man back at the stable had lied to him
when he saw what looked to be a small parting in the dense forest off to
his left. Then he saw fresh wagon tracks in the snow and started down the
narrow path. The path was not cleared very well and he had to occasionally
duck or move to the side to avoid overhanging branches. The wagon jostled
and lurched constantly, almost turning over a couple times and he was
beginning to worry about the entire wagon falling apart from the violent
shaking so he slowed to no more than a walk.

After fifteen minutes or so of this he came into a partial clearing where
the trees and undergrowth had been thinned considerably. Directly ahead of
him through the blowing snow stood an ominous stone structure no more than
two stories high built up against the side of one of the small
mountains. The building was black in the darkness except for a torch-lit
alcove in which stood a massive set of double doors.

The slaver went over to the huge doors and pounded three times, he could
hear the sound echoing throughout the inside of the old keep. When he got
no response he pounded harder and waited. Finally he heard the sound of a
metal bar clanking on the inside. The heavy doors swung inward slowly.

The lithe figure that opened the doors didn't recognize the slaver, and
looked a bit concerned by the arrival of someone he didn't know.

"What is it you want?"  The man said standing up to his fill height. He
looked ridiculous next to the seven foot two inch slaver.

"I have come to attend the auction, I was invited by a man at the Inn in
town who said he was also coming."

"By who you say?" The man said suspiciously.

"Never mind, I am a slaver (he moved aside and motioned to his wagon to the
man could see it) and I have come to perhaps make a purchase, if, that is,
the merchandise is as good as I have heard. I'll be damned if I came all
the way out here in this godforsaken weather for nothing!" The slaver
boomed menacingly.

He was used to dealing with people like this. The servant, for that was
obviously what he was, was no match for the giant of a man that loomed over
him and he knew it.

"Oh no my lord, I wouldn't think of inconveniencing a man of your stature
like that, it's just that I have orders to only admit those who are invited
or who have business here. Since you are a slaver you are most
welcome. Please - follow me."

The slaver grinned to himself; size did have its advantages. The Zhentarim
was nearly four hundred pounds and yet his great height made him look quite
in shape, which he was.

The entry hall looked unused. It was at least twenty feet high with a floor
of ornate marble and walls of dark stone. Directly across from the entry
doors stood a set of doors. These were made of polished Elfwood, which is
the color of light rosewood. Just above the doors ran a wide walkway in the
middle of which was yet another set of doors. At either end of the walkway
were stairs that came up from the ground level where the two men were now
standing. The servant led the slaver to the far side of the right staircase
that led up to the balcony.  There was a narrow doorway that opened to
reveal another staircase leading down under the main staircase.

It was no easy task for the slaver to get his massive body through the
door, but once he was through the staircase leading down was considerably
wider, although he had to duck down to keep from hitting the ceiling. The
staircase was lit by wall sconces and looked to descend about twenty-five
feet. At the bottom of the staircase was a landing. The hallway led back in
the opposite direction they were facing when they descended the stairs so
that they were now heading deeper into the mountain. The hallway was about
twenty feet long and was in much better condition than the upper
floors. The hallway opened into a chamber about thirty five feet square
with a ten foot ceiling. The walls were hung with simple tapestries and
heavy wool carpets covered the stone floor giving the room a warmer feeling
despite the absence of any furnishings.

The servant stopped in the middle of the room and swept his arm in a half
circle.

"When Lord Kier occupied the keep over a hundred and forty years ago, this
chamber served as a staging area for his personal guard. Note the other
hallway next to the one we just came through, it leads underneath of the
other main staircase on the ground level. This entire level was used to
house the Lord's Guard. The level is divided onto who halves accessed
through the doors at each end of the room."  He said pointing to the doors.

The servant headed to the door that would be on your left as you entered
the room.

"This side has access to the dungeons and lower levels of the keep so for
convenience this is the side that is used for auctions and such. If you
will follow me I will show you to the auction hall." He walked over to the
door and opened it for the slaver.

"Lead the way," the slaver replied.

This corridor was ten feet wide and led straight ahead for about sixty feet
or so then turned sharp right and continued about seventy-five feet. There
were doors about every ten feet along the right wall. At the end was a
large room one hundred fifty feet long and seventy-five feet wide with
twelve-foot ceilings.  It was furnished with several plush couches arranged
so that they face a large stage at the far end of the hall, the stage
looked like a giant arched alcove at the opposite end that appeared to be
of newer construction than the rest of the Keep.  At the rear of the stage
was a door made of ironwood that had an opening about a foot square set
with iron bars perhaps three-quarters of an inch thick.  The door was
actually at the same level as the rest of the room so stairs and a small
landing had been built into with the new construction to allow the door to
swing open.

The slaver was the third person to have arrived; the other two men were
richly dressed and looked quite comfortable as they lounged on the
couches. Each of them glanced over to see who had arrived and stared for a
moment at the sight of the huge man then returned to their food and drink
paying little further attention to the slaver. A small rectangular table
stood in front of each couch. The tables were covered with expensive food,
wine, and liquor. At each corner of the room stood a guard armed with a
sword and wearing chain armor. The walls, ceiling, and floor were smooth
stone. The room had a dry coolness to it that smelled of rich food and
traces of incense.

There was another door to the left of the entrance tunnels through which
the servant took his leave.

The slaver studied the room carefully and noticed long narrow vents in the
ceiling that were obviously for ventilation as the air in the room was
fresh.

Some moments later the servant returned with a slight man dressed in
lightweight ornate robes made of a satin-like material. The robes were deep
blue with small yellow arcane symbols adorning the trim and a larger symbol
of unknown origin enclosed in a octagon on his left breast. The man was
older but not ancient, perhaps ten years the slavers senior. He was a
wizard, that much was certain. He had shoulder length wavy black hair
generously laced with silver, a slender frame, and was of medium
height. His face had sharp almost elfish features and light skin.  His eyes
were a strange jade green that seemed to glow slightly in the torchlight.

The wizard seemed to glide along the floor as he approached the slaver.

"A new guest I see," the wizard said in a crisp quiet voice as he extended
his hand through his long wide sleeves.

"I have heard that you offer the finest slaves in the west so I decided to
see for myself," the slaver replied as they shook hands.

The touch of the wizard's hand sent a slight tingling sensation up the
slaver's arm.

The wizard seemed to be concentrating on something then he smiled and said,
"I believe you will find our 'merchandise' quite appealing. Please, sit and
enjoy the food and drink, this is not an all business affair, we have
entertainment as well."

"Very well"

The slaver found a couch in back and reclined. After about twenty minutes
people started to arrive. There were now twelve guests and all were dressed
in expensive clothing and jewelry. Among them was the man he met at the
stables and he was the only one he recognized. The strange thing was that
they were all human and all male. The North consisted mostly of dwarves and
gnomes with humans being only about twenty percent of the population. So
far everyone here was human, even the servants. This was indeed a very
select group.

The door behind the stage opened and ten boys around the age of thirteen
entered the room followed by an unarmed guard. The boys were all dressed in
the same costume; a white cotton tunic that extended to just below the
boy's butt in the back and tied at the waist with a white silk cord. The
tunic was not sewn together on the sides and it flared out at the top
extending about four inches past the boy's shoulder forming a 'T' shape
like flat little wings. The boys began waiting on the guests as if they
were gods showing an unusual amount of reverence, even awe, and the guard
stayed by the door keeping an eye on the serving boys.

Forty-five minutes later the number of guests had swelled to nearly fifty,
two young assistants had joined the old wizard - one male and one female,
four more serving boys joined the others, and there were now a total of
twelve guards scattered about the room.

By now the Zhentarim was nearly beside himself with curiosity. He had been
watching the boys going about their work and noticed subtle actions and
facial expressions that told him they were actually flirting with and
teasing the guests. They never once touched the guests and would recoil at
any attempts made by the guests to touch them but they did so in a playful
manner, often smiling and laughing quietly. It was also obvious that the
boys' clothing was intentionally alluring.

The slaver was anything but naive; he had traveled all over Faerun as a
master slaver and had filled some very unusual orders. Slaves are
particularly suited to unusual tastes. Once purchased, a slave, regardless
of race or species, becomes your property and as such you may do with them
whatever you desire.

He wasn't in the least bit bothered or offended by what was taking place
here; he was, after all, himself a slaver. However, if there were a
lucrative market for slaves, especially one as specialized as this, it
would have to be brought under the control of the Zhentarim. He decided he
would investigate this operation in detail when his journey to the Ten
Cities was over, which brought up another point; he still didn't have any
idea what, exactly, he was supposed to find for the old man.

In the middle of his thoughts one of the serving boys approached him
timidly. It was the first time any of the boys had come near him and the
boy was trembling slightly. He stood at perfect attention making absolutely
certain that he did everything right and didn't offend the awesome Lord
before him.

"Great Lord, although I am not worthy, may I get you something to make your
visit more enjoyable?" The boy said keeping his eyes downcast in
supplication. His muscles were as tense as a bowstring but he tried not to
reveal his uneasiness.

The slaver looked the boy over and casually straightened up on the couch
leaning forward ever so slightly.

Quicker than lightning, the big man's hand shot out and grabbed the boy's
arm. The earthenware bowl full of grapes the boy was holding dropped to the
floor and shattered, the boy let out a screech and jumped. The giant hand
that now gripped the boy's arm felt like an iron vice. It wasn't painful,
there was no pressure being applied, but it was solid. The boy could not
believe that a man that size could move that fast and he was so stunned he
just stood there staring at the slaver with his eyes wide.

The wizard suddenly appeared at the boy's side. "You are the first to catch
one of my boys, many have tried but never succeeded," the wizard breathed
ever so calmly.

Everyone's attention quickly focused on the event.

The huge slaver stood up to his full height, slowly slid his sword from its
scabbard, and brought the sparkling tip up to rest lightly against the
boy's throat just above the collar bone and below the Adam's apple. The
razor sharp gold inlay blade shone like a mirror in the torchlight, the
gold in the blade forming a gleaming dragon. Then the slaver carefully
moved the hilt toward the wizard showing him the immense ruby that crowned
the end of the handle. The gem was pulsing bright and dim with an eerie red
glow.

"The boy has magic OR he has been spelled - which is it wizard, or do I
have to behead him to find out?" The slaver boomed in a voice that seemed
to shake the entire keep, the gigantic muscles in his arms and back
flexing.

"I hardly think an enterprising man such as yourself would destroy his own
property, especially not something as priceless as this boy!"  The wizard
cooed, smiling deviously.

"Master, I am a failure," the boy cried and bent his head down. He was
trembling.

"You are not a failure Tarin, have patience."

"What do you mean - my property? Do not play games with me wizard." The
slaver said keeping his grip on the boy but moving the tip of the sword a
few inches from his neck.

"I mean exactly what I said: The boy is yours - may I have the privilege of
knowing your name?"

The slaver took a deep breath and tensed a bit. "I am Draza - Overlord
Draza"

Everyone in the room gasped and instantly became nervous and fidgety. The
wizard's eyes narrowed in circumspection.

"The Overlord Draza - of the Zhentarim?" Asked the wizard raising his
eyebrows.

"I am"

The wizard bowed his head slightly in respect to the Great Lord.

"I am Var - Please release the boy, he means you no harm I can assure you,
let me explain this unfortunate misunderstanding."

Var paused to see what Draza would do next.

Draza carefully returned his sword to its sheath and everyone breathed a
sigh of relief. Then he looked around the room and studied the faces of the
people around him. What he saw on those faces was fear and he knew then
that this group was harmless and that their only concerned was the upcoming
auction and their own safety.

He eased himself onto the couch and reclined then pulled the boy down so he
was seated next to him and released his grip. Tarin immediately sprang off
the couch as if it had burned him and prostrated himself before Draza.

"Master," he said with his face pushed into the thick carpet, "I have
offended you, I do not deserve to sit with you."

'Oh the ups and downs of boyhood emotions,' Var thought to himself.

He had one of his guards bring a couch around so he could sit facing Draza.

"You are correct Lord Draza the boys are indeed spelled as you say. Two
years ago I designed a very complex spell to cast on them to protect
them. The only way to overcome the spell is with genuine need and
desire. One's soul must truly desire the boy and his deepest intentions
must be founded on compassion and love. Only then would someone be able to
physically touch the child. I also taught them how to avoid the touch of
others and I told them that they must never allow themselves to be
touched. To disobey would mean severe punishment and my disapproval. I knew
that the only way one of them would disobey me is if he desired the contact
more than he feared me or wanted to please me. I knew that if this ever
happened he would no longer be mine. His true place would be with the one
he had chosen. In the event that someone was quick enough to catch one of
them in spite of my training, or someone tricked one of the boys then the
spell would protect him by teleporting him out of harms way to another part
of the Keep. So you see, the only way this could happen is if the boy
wanted to be caught and if the person trying to catch him is genuinely fond
of him and needs him. What happened here has fulfilled both
requirements. The boy is yours Lord Draza, in body and soul, and there is
nothing I can do about it even if I wanted to. The magic in your sword did
not negate the spell, you did. I do not know exactly what this means, you
will have to discover that on your own."

Draza looked down at the youth who had supposedly 'chosen' him, he was
still pressed into the carpet. The boy was indeed very desirable, although
the slaver had never thought of a boy in those terms before.

Tarin had light brown hair, a very athletic body with excellent definition,
legs that were lightly tanned and not lanky, and his butt was firm and well
formed.

"What is his age?" Draza asked.

"He is fourteen"

Draza nodded, "I thought so."

He needed time to decide what to do with Tarin but that would have to wait
until later.

"Get up and come here boy." He ordered.

Tarin complied hesitantly and Draza put a collar that he had pulled out of
his coat around Tarin's smooth neck and expertly weaved it together with a
leather cord. The collar was prominently branded with the Zhentarim symbol.

"Now stand here next to me until I tell you otherwise."

"Yes Master" Tarin replied obediently.

Draza directed his attention to Var, "I came here to see an auction, shall
we get on with it."

"An excellent idea, now that we have that little business settled we can
enjoy some entertainment."

He moved away to talk to his assistants and the guards moved the couch back
where it was.  People began talking and eating again, and of course their
conversations mostly centered around the Zhentarim.

Most of the torches in the room where extinguished, plunging the room into
a dim atmosphere, and all attention quickly focused on the platform.

A troupe of three musicians entered the room through the door that the
Wizard had used and sat on the floor to the left of the platform.  They
began to tune their instruments.

Ten minutes later thirty boys and ten girls, all between the ages of eight
and thirteen, filed in one at a time through the door in the back of the
stage.  They were all dressed in elaborate sheer silk costumes comprised of
several pieces of fabric that flowed around them as they moved.  Underneath
the several removable layers of silk each child wore a shiny satin G-string
or thong.  None of the children wore a top other than the lavish silk
wraps.  The colors were different shades of blue and purple for the boys
and all different colors for the girls.  Their faces were made up in the
Ancient Egyptian Earth fashion of black eyeliner that came to a point on
either side of the face, wet red lips, and light blush.  This was expertly
and appropriately applied to accentuate the features of both the boys and
girls.  The perfumes they wore filled the room with a delicately cloying
fragrance.  Their feet were bare and they held miniature musical symbols on
the thumb and index finger of each hand.  They wore a bracelet around each
slender wrist with part of their costume attached to it.

The resulting effect was exquisite.  The boys did not look feminine but
masculine in a boyish way, their bodies perfectly proportioned, not chubby
and not too thin with nice form and tight tummies. The boys' hair was cut
in the Egyptian Pageboy fashion.  The girls had long flowing black hair and
appeared feminine but not prissy.  They, too, were of the perfect height
and weight, slender and firm.

The children's movements as they walked onto the stage were graceful and
alluring.

Draza watched closely as each child in turn appeared through the door.
Never in all his years as a Zhentarim had he seen such perfect examples of
the human form.

When the twenty-third child came through the door, Draza nearly had a
stroke.  He was the same boy he had met at the Inn.  All of the children
had black hair so far, except this one, who had blond hair.  Unexplained
excitement and relief flooded over the big man.

Shortly after the last child was in place, the musicians began to play and
the children began to dance.  The music was nearly identical to the Turkish
belly dance music of Earth.

Their movements were smooth and graceful, inundated with sexual innuendo.
The girls performed the traditional belly dance of the East and the boys
performed a slightly moderated version more complimentary to their form and
style.

When the second track started one of the boys left the stage and entered
the audience.  He approached one of the guests and began to dance.  He
reached up and draped his silks around the man, pulling back slowly as the
material slithered around his neck.  Then he started removing his costume
piece by piece as he moved his lithe little body to the music.  These
children were no amateurs, they had been well trained.  This was no sleazy
strip show but a performance designed to accentuate the spiritual aspects
of sexuality and attraction, a sort of flirtatious courtship, if you will.

With each change of song, another child would enter the audience until they
were all with a guest, and the ones already in the audience would change to
a different guest.

The guests were very reserved and took in all the attention with grace and
maturity never letting their feelings or desires get out of control.  The
boy from the inn monopolized Draza's attention all evening, never leaving
his side despite numerous attempts to replace him.  This much to the
discomfort of Tarin who did what he was told and did not move.  Draza
seemed to be too taken by the dancer to pay much attention to Tarin, and
this hurt him deeply.  He would frequently direct wrathful looks at the
little blond but the boy didn't seem to notice.

In truth, the blond did notice the hateful looks he was getting from Tarin
and he did care very much.  He was afraid, afraid of Tarin and afraid that
Tarin had shattered his hopes of getting Draza to pick him.

When he first spotted Draza he was so happy he almost lost his composure.
The Great Lord had been so nice to him once that he figured that maybe he
would let him stay with him for good.  Then he noticed his competition and
his heart fell, but he kept dancing, trying harder than ever to captivate
the man.  He even broke the rules by not letting anyone else dance with
him.  This was a huge risk because if Draza did not buy him he would be
severely punished and may even end up here for good.

The dancing had continued for nearly two hours and it was approaching ten
o'clock in the evening when the music stopped and all of the children went
back up on stage and were joined by Var and his beautiful lady assistant.

"Now that you have had adequate time to view the merchandise we will get
down to business."

The lady brought each child to the front of the stage and the bids were
made.  Some of the quests purchased one or more and some did not even bid.
There were no bids for some children and many for others.  Three of the
boys - two of them twins - and two of the girls were not even offered for
sale, among them was the cute blond.  He couldn't understand why there were
no bids for him and he was heartbroken but it was his first time in the
show, he had just hoped so badly that the man he met at the inn would want
him.

Draza had bid on a few of the boys and one of the girls but the price soon
became unreasonable so he decided to stop bidding.  He was planning on
purchasing the blond boy from the inn who had danced for him all evening
and he was very surprised when he wasn't put up for bids.

After the evening's events came to a close, Var invited Draza to stay the
night in the Keep, which he gladly accepted in lieu of traveling through
the cold this late at night.

The guest quarters were located in the main part of the Keep on the second
level.  Var explained that the entry foyer had been purposely left in a
state of disrepair and that the rest of the Keep was quite comfortable.
The doors located on the balcony of the entrance foyer opened up to reveal
a richly appointed hallway, off of which were guestrooms and living
quarters.

His room was lavishly furnished with a huge bed that had obviously been
made for large guests, a couple chairs, two small tables, a desk, and a
wardrobe cabinet.  A fire had also been started in the fireplace.

After he was shown to his room, he retrieved his valuables and other
various items from his wagon, went back to his room and told a servant to
tell Var that he wanted to see him.  Tarin had refused to leave his side
and was now sitting on the floor at Draza's feet who was reclining in one
of the chairs deep in thought.

There was a knock at the door.  Tarin glanced up at Draza and Draza
motioned for him to answer it.  It was Var, and he was alone.

"You wanted to speak with me, Lord Draza!"

"Indeed I did, come in and sit down."

Var glided into the room and sat in the chair opposite the slaver.  "I
trust everything is to your satisfaction?"  He inquired.

"Everything is fine.  I just have a request and I will get right to the
point if you don't mind?"

"I don't mind at all - what is it you would like?"

"I want the five slaves that were not offered for sale at the auction."

The Wizard's eyes narrowed, he was stunned.  "You what?  You can't be
serious, they are new and have not finished their training, they are not
yet for sale.  I cannot sell inferior stock."

"I am very serious, I don't care how little training they have had.  You
forget I am a Zhentarim slaver and I am very capable of training them
myself.  What is your price?"

"And I am afraid you have misunderstood me this evening, I do not wholesale
slaves.  I train and prepare the finest personal servants in all of Faerun
with the understanding that they are never to be resold, ever."  Var
replied, insulted.

"You have made it clear that they have not completed their training and
this is of no concern to me, as for your other requirement, I accept that.
I know you have your price - how much do you want."

Var was completely unprepared for this, he had never sold an untrained
slave before and he was very uncomfortable with the idea.  On the other
hand, to incur the wrath of such a powerful Zhentarim as Draza would likely
make an enemy out of the entire Zhentarim Empire, and that would spell
disaster for his entire operation.  In addition, if he made friends with
the slaver he would have a very powerful ally.

"You are sure you want all five of them?"

"I am quite sure"

"Twenty-five hundred gold, no less"

"And I will offer eight hundred platinum Zhentarim Dragons and no less."

"That is over one thousand gold each.  You are a very strange man Lord
Draza"

"Then it is settled?"

"It is settled.  You are a strange man Draza, but you are also a good man,"
Var replied smiling.

"I would like to see the children this evening.  I was not able to look at
any of them except the blond.  He seemed to be extremely adamant about
being the only one to entertain me this evening."  Draza said and smiled
knowingly.

"Ah yes, that would be Karsten.  I noticed his behavior as well and was
planning on having a word with him anyway.  If you would like to join me, I
will take you to their quarters and they can return with you to your room
here.  To leave them downstairs after they hear the news would be cruel to
say the least."

The two continued their conversation for a little while longer then rose in
unison and prepared to go to the dungeons.

"Tarin, you will come with us and stay by my side at all times, do you
understand."

"Yes master," Tarin replied.  He was shocked when he heard that his master
had purchased Karsten and the others, shocked and more than a little
jealous.  He didn't know what this would all mean where he was concerned
but he was resigned to deal with it as best as he could.

The trio talked little as they made their way to the auction hall.  The
barred door behind the stage led to a flight of ten steps at the end of
which was a wide corridor that branched off to other hallways at various
intervals.  They snaked their way around following Var and finally reached
an area that had twelve doors around the room.  The doors were all open
about three inches or so and it was dead quiet.  As Var approached one of
the doors a child's cough broke the silence.  Draza and Tarin followed
close behind the Wizard.

Var picked up a torch from a floor stand by the door and lit it off one of
the torches on the wall explaining that they were kept lit all night in
case anyone needed to get up in the middle of the night.

He moved to the door, swung it open and entered the small cell.  Suddenly
he swung the torch out in front of him as if he was trying to see
something.

Draza came through the door and looked at the straw bed - it was empty.

***************************
The End of Chapter 1
***************************

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