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then supported
most of his weight as they stumbled to a place in the open formation.
Once they were all in position Ch'aka kicked the nearest one and they
began walking slowly forward looking carefully at the ground as they
went. Jason had no idea of the significance of the action, but as long
as he and Mikah weren't bothered it didn't matter: he had enough work
cut out for him just to keep the wounded man on his feet. Somehow
Mikah managed to dredge up enough strength to keep going.
    One of the slaves pointed down and shouted and the line stopped. He
was too far away for Jason to make out the cause of the excitement,
but the man bent over and scratched a hole with a short length of
pointed wood. In a few seconds he dug up something round and not quite
the size of his hand. He raised it over his head and brought the thing
to Ch'aka at a shambling run. The slavemaster took it and bit off a
chunk, and when the man who had found it turned away he gave him a
lusty kick. The line moved forward again.
    Two more of the mysterious objects were found, both of which Ch'aka
ate as well. Only when his immediate hunger was satisfied did he make
any attempt to be the good provider. When the next one was found he
called over a slave and threw the object into a crudely woven basket
he was carrying on his back. After this the basket-toting slave walked
directly in front of Ch'aka who was carefully watchful that every one
of the things that was dug up went into the basket. Jason wondered
what they were—and they were edible, too, an angry rumbling in his
stomach reminded him.
    The slave next in line to Jason shouted and pointed to the sand. Jason
let Mikah sink to a sitting position when they stopped and watched
with interest as the slave attacked the ground with his piece of wood,
scratching around a tiny sprig of green that projected from the desert
sand. His burrowings uncovered a wrinkled gray object from which the
green leaves were growing, a root or tuber of some kind. It appeared
as edible as a piece of stone to Jason, but obviously not to the slave
who drooled heavily and actually had the temerity to sniff the root.
Ch'aka howled with anger at this and when the slave had dropped the
root into the basket with the others he received a kick so strong that
he had to limp back painfully to his position in the line.
    Soon after this Ch'aka called a halt and the tattered slaves huddled
around while he poked through the basket. He called them over one at a
time and gave them one or more of the roots according to some merit
system of his own. The basket was almost empty when he poked his club
at Jason.
    "
K'e nam h'vas vi?
" he asked.
    "
Mia namo estas Jason, mia amiko estas Mikah.
"
    Jason answered in correct Esperanto that Ch'aka seemed to understand
well enough, because he grunted and dug through the contents of the
basket. His masked face stared at them and Jason could feel the impact
of the unseen watching eyes. The club pointed again.
    "Where you come from? That you ship that burn, sink?"
    "That was our ship. We come from far away."
    "From other side of ocean?" This was apparently the largest distance
the slaver could imagine.
    "From the other side of the ocean, correct." Jason was in no mood to
deliver a lecture on astronomy. "When do we eat?"
    "You a rich man in your country, got a ship, got shoes. Now I got your
shoes. You a slave here. My slave. You both my slaves."
    "I'm your slave, I'm your slave," Jason said resignedly. "But even
slaves have to eat. Where's the food?"
    Ch'aka grubbed around in the basket until he found a tiny and withered
root which he broke in half and threw onto the sand in front of Jason.
    "Work hard you get more."
    Jason picked up the pieces and brushed away as much of the dirt as he
could. He handed one to Mikah and took a tentative bite out of the
other one: it was gritty with sand and tasted like slightly rancid
wax. It took a distinct effort to eat the repulsive thing but he did.
Without a doubt it was