ery efficient, but primitive as
it was it moved the _caroj_ and its load of passengers across the sand
at a creeping yet steady pace.

There were more screams from the slaves, and a few tried to leap over
the side but were clubbed down. The robe-wrapped D'zertanoj were
firmly working their way through the ranks of the captives, pouring
ladlefuls of dark liquid down their throats. The first ones to receive
it were already slumped unconscious or dead, though the chances were
better that they were unconscious since there was no reason for their
captors to kill them after going to such lengths to get them in the
first place. Jason believed this, but the terrified slaves did not
have the solace of his philosophy so struggled on, thinking that they
were fighting for their lives. When Jason's turn came he did not
submit meekly, in spite of his beliefs, and managed to bite some
fingers and kick one man in the stomach before they sat on him, held
his nose and poured a measure of the burning liquid down his throat.
It hurt and he was dizzy, and he tried to will himself to throw up,
but this was the last thing that he remembered.

VII

"Drink some more of this," the voice said, and cold water splashed on
Jason's face and some of it trickled down his throat making him cough.
Something hard was pressing into his back and his wrists hurt. Memory
seeped back slowly, the fight, the capture and the potion that had
been forced upon him. When he opened his eyes he saw a flickering
yellow lamp overhead, hung from a chain. He blinked at it and tried to
gather enough energy to sit up. A familiar face swam in front of the
light and Jason squinted his eyes at it and groaned.

"Is that you Mikah--or are you just part of a nightmare?"

"There is no escape from justice, Jason. It is I, and I have some
grave questions to put to you."

Jason groaned again. "You're real all right. Even in a nightmare I
wouldn't dare dream up any lines like that. But before the questions,
how about telling me a thing or two about the local setup, you should
know something since you have been a slave of the D'zertanoj longer
than I have." Jason realized that the pain in his wrists came from
heavy iron shackles. A chain passed through them and was stapled to a
thick wooden bar on which his head had been resting. "Why the
chains--and what is the local hospitality like?"

Mikah resisted the invitation to impart any vital information and
returned irresistibly t