Chapter sixteenWa-Te’s tail hand whisked in from nowhere and caught my bicep. The tail hand hauled and I straightened up. I had been prevented from stumbling by Wa-Te’s quick reactions.
“Thanks, Wa-Te,” I said in that low slave monotone that has to be learned deuced quickly if one wishes to avoid ol’ snake.
Ahead of us and to the rear in the rock corridor stretched the lines of slaves. The smells were offensive for a time; after that they went away unless some fresh scent brought back the sense of smell. The noise of shuffling feet and the clink of chains was broken only by the occasional smack of a whip or the thud of a cudgel. The pervasive pearly light shone down with ironic benevolence on slave and slave driver alike.
Over my shoulders the wooden yoke was trying to rub through the c
