Mike was led obediantly deeper into the large barn and locked into a box stall with no windows and no way to look out. The magic of the saddle did nothing to prevent him from moving around slowly and carefully, but whenever he tried to think of escape, he found that he couldn't force his body to react. If he told his hind hooves to kick at the door, they stayed rooted to the ground.
He was in that little room for a few minutes when the top of the stall door finally opened revealing several grizzled farmers. They looked at him with open disgust. "A centaur, eh?" spat one of them, "Not a very smart one, wandering into our town." Mike tried to say something in protest but found that he couldn't even move his jaw to speak!
The owner of the barn stepped forward. "We all know why we're here. Once we have a winning bidder, the alchemist will adjust the creature into whatever you desire. His charges are different from mine, of course, and keep in mind that he'll charge more if you want something other than a horse. We'll start the bidding at five Dacnar."
Mike stood stunned, but still unable to react. He was being sold like livestock, and he definitly didn't like the sound of the alchemist.
The bidding was over quickly, ending at 30 Dacnars, whatever those were. The middle aged farmer paid the man quickly and waited as the small knot of people dispursed. "Don't worry too much, monster," he said quietly to Mike, "once you're adjusted for my farm, you'll be treated well. Some of the others would have bought you just to grind you up, but that's not what I want."
He was interuppted by a man in a loose robe walking up carrying a large satchel. He set it on a bench and opened it. The farmer looked over the bottles and chose one, paid the alchemist, and walked back to Mike. "Drink this bottle," he commanded.
Mike had no intention of doing anything of the sort, but unbidden he took the bottle from the mans hand and drank it without hesitation! It took only a few seconds before he could feel something happening deep in his gut.