Barg nodded. "Aztecs from a place called Tenochtitlan. Twenty thousand
of them got sacrificed in a bunch for some reason or other. Poor devils.
They think this is some kind of heaven. They tell me this is easy work
compared to the type they had to undergo. The Satheri like to get big
bunches through in one conjuration, like the haul they made from the
victims of somebody named Tamerlane." He tested a rope, then dropped to
a sitting position on the edge of the block. "I'll let you stay up to
call signals from here. Only watch it. That overseer has his eyes on
you. Make sure the ropes stay tight while we see if the thing can be
moved."
He started to slip over the side, hanging by his fingertips. Something
caught, and he swore. With one hand, he managed to free his breechclout
and drag out the thin volume that was lodged between his groin and the
block. "Here, hold this for me until we meet tonight. You've got more
room to hide it in your cloth than I have." He tossed it over quickly,
then dropped from sight to land on the ground below.
Hanson shoved the book out of sight and tried to act busy again. The
mandrake overseer had started ponderously toward him. But in a moment
the thing's attention was directed to some other object of torture.
Hanson braced himself as the lines of slaves beneath him settled
themselves to the ropes. There was a loud cracking of whips and a chorus
of groans.
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