The slave isn't yet dead; another has been mauled by a giant scorpion; the rest are mostly just hungry and dehydrated.

"Fazil, found some patients for you. And their water barrel's over here."

"Cure Light Wounds. Cure Light Wounds. Create Water. - Hagan, I don't think the slaves speak Taldane -"

Hagan switches to Kelish and says something to them which seems to greatly irritate the slavers.

"Comprehend Languages -"

"And everyone should please eat something, it's at least four days of travel to get out of here. We'll eat the assholes who brought you here if we have to but they don't look that tasty."

Snicker.

He grins at her. Answers some questions. "We're from Osirion. Their guild advertises.

Yeah, Osirion has slavery, but only for people who did something wrong, can't get born or kidnapped into it.

I have no idea what's gonna happen to them  Yall will probably get a really pathetic amount of reimbursement and be shooed off to seek your fortunes. 

Haven't heard anything about anyone else. I'm sorry."

"Anyone else? They get split up from some folks?"

"When we were sold to these people."

"Yeah. Haven't heard anything." Sigh.

"We should get moving."

"You all out of food or you need to pack?" Belmarniss asks.

There is not that much food left. There's a couple handfuls of the fruit they were hidden under, starting to go bad, and there's a suspect corpse of a scorpion-thing.

She hands out fruit to the hungrier-looking slaves so it can be useful before it rots.

One of the slavers objects to this. "We were saving that."

"We get the contents of your caravan as part of our loot, we can do what we want with it. You want to get drunk on rotten fruit, do it once we're out."

He makes a vulgar gesture he clearly does not expect to be visible in the dark and turns to go where they are being herded.

Herd herd herd. Anybody having issues with the terrain can get a casting of Root, though it doesn't last too long.

"Well," he says cheerfully, switching back to Osirian, "off to a good start."

"Don't say that where fate can hear you."

They start to make their way back out. No one else seems to have automatic instincts for everywhere they've been before, for some reason.

It's not an instinct, she's been writing it down. "Bat stew agree with you okay?" she asks Hagan.

"I seem in perfect health."

She shoots down some more bats the next time they stop for a break near a flock of them. Hands Hagan a few and sets to butchering.