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."
"Better than nothing, though," his companion said.
"They can be sold for simple work. They're strong enough
to tote and fetch."
"They won't bring a copper a head." Daco sneered.
"Slave buyers know about gully dwarves. They're
unreliable, they're clumsy, and they can't be taught
anything useful."
"Devious, I've heard," someone added. "I wouldn't
want one for a slave of my own. Always plotting and
scheming. They'd be a danger to have around if they could
concentrate on anything for more than a minute or two.
You, there! Get on your feet and walk! Nobody said you
could stop and sleep!" He turned to the flanker opposite
him. "See? That's what I'm talking about. The one with the
curly beard there . . . just like that, he was taking time out
for a nap."
The motley assemblage made its way northward across
a strange and tumbled land, a dozen armed men driving
several dozen gully dwarves. The little creatures - barely
half the size of their captors - stumbled in an erratic double
line, each bound to those in front and behind by a length of
cord tied around his neck. The men surrounded them,
herded them like cattle.
The slavers had been two separate parties only days
before, and each party had been successful. Good slaves for
the market. Human slaves - men, women and children. Then
the Cataclysm - whatever it was - had occurred. Each party
had lost its captives in the ensuing chaos, and now they had
nothing to show for their expeditions except these pitiful
gully dwarves they had chanced across
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