On the dais, Iltani was refusing to cooperate, despite a guardsman with arms as thick as trees and a tangled brown bush of a beard ordering her around. The man backhanded her across the jaw, and I clenched my fists so tightly, my nails bit into my palms. He went through the rest of the group, arranging girls this way or that. He tugged a beautiful girl, no older than fifteen, to the front near Iltani. Her round eyes were luminous with unshed tears, but the streaks of kohl underneath were evidence of the many she’d already shed. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was knotted into two long braids down her shoulders over a white filmy shawl.

From the corner of the Libbu, in a group of underfed people with ragged tunics, a small man with eyes the exact replicas of hers cupped his hands around his mouth. Told her to bow her head meekly. Her shoulders drooped as she surveyed the men clamoring for her attention at the base of the dais. One reached up to take hold of her foot, and though she shrank away, the man laughed, displaying a mouth full of rotten teeth.

The stocky guardsman gestured to the men around him. “Gather round,” he scratched out, coughing into his fist, and the men in the crowd drew close, already pulling bags of talents, minas, and shekels from their waists. “Show me your wealth and we’ll see who gets to pick first.”

Yashub got in line behind a group of men, one hand on his dagger, the other on his coins. The line moved slowly as one by one the men went by, opening their purses, boasting of their sheep and homes, some slipping the guardsman shekels as they clasped hands. Yashub was one of those men, though he passed an entire talent to the guardsman. The man grunted appreciatively and slapped Yashub on his back. Gala walked several paces behind, and when he went up to the guardsman, he showed him a rather small bag of coins. But he leaned in, cracking a joke, and the older man laughed uproariously. My heart sank. Could Yashub’s bribe influence the man to give him first choice more than the connection he had with Gala?

Relationships were often worth more than gold.

The guardsman finally arranged the men in line from wealthiest to poorest.

“Dagan, look!”

“I see! Yashub is third right behind Uruku’s head merchant and that young priest.”

“We must pray to Selu above that no one else selects Iltani before he gets to choose.”

The merchant, a slight man with gray streaked through his beard, sturdy sandals on his feet, pointed to the young beauty who’d been crying near the front. The head guardsman grunted, and she broke into fresh sobs as she was dragged down from the dais and into the hands of the merchant. But she was the only one displeased in the matter. Her poor abum jogged lightly up to the nobleman and bowed his thanks over and over again as she was led away.