"His features are slack and his jaw is loose, all right, but they aren't made that way. It's an expression he could change. His head isn't shaped like that."
"Um. The man in the chair is a striking specimen. No cerebral damage in him."
"I don't think the answer is brain damage. If the 'noble' trusts those four to carry him, their actions and reflexes must be pretty well coordinated. They can't have anything like palsy or epilepsy."
"They must breed a special type of slave for the job," Ellik suggested.
"They aren't slaves, Mike," I told him.
"No?" Ellik said, like talking to a kid. "And what are they, Mike?"
I breathed out hard, a little disgusted that big brains like Ellik and Chon couldn't see the translucent truth. "They are just four dumb slobs who can't get a better job, so they are hauling His Highness around because they have to make a living the hard way."
"That doesn't quite cover it, Johnny," Chon said. "The carriers are a completely different race."
"What's different about them?" I asked. "They've got hands to work with, eyes to see with, noses to smell with. If you kick one of them, I bet he'll hurt. It's just their bad luck to be dumb slobs."