“Eighty-thousand gold for the pink one.” Kelsier’s voiced boomed across the auction hall and over the crowd making their bids on the three elven slaves on the stand. Whispers and murmurs of disbelief travelled through the crowd, silenced by Kelsier’s bid. “Anybody willing to put down higher?” the auctioneer called. Nothing. “Last chance.” Silence filled the room. “Sold to the elven rogue!”
Kelsier stayed put in his seat near the back of the auction hall, waiting for the crowd to leave, the lucky winners taking their slaves to their taverns. “What might your name be?” he asked. “Lulusa.” Lulusa, he thought. What a beautiful name. Kelsier stood up from his seat, making his way to the foot of the stand. His gazed covered Lulusa’s figure. She was still wearing what she had been captured in, tattered elven clothes. She stood out compared to other elves. She stood taller, her chest full and perky, with thighs and a plump rear that wouldn’t easily be contained in traditional elven garments. Her curvy features on her slim pink-skinned frame spoke to Kelsier. She was different, in all the right ways.