The dreams would not let up. So Huixopotchitl finally had to visit the
     After the customary hallucinogenic drink, and amid a cloud of strange
incense, the Shaman began chanting in a language Huixopotchitl didn't
know. This went on for some time.
     When the Shaman could again speak Nahuatl, he told Huixopotchitl the
confusing details of his strange vision. What was clear, however, was
that Huixopotchitl's bones would be molested most severely after his
death — pulled from the ground and dusted off and tagged and labeled,
his desiccated flesh and moldering garments and funerary possessions on
public display for all — the lowest of persons, the profane and base,
even children — to see.
     Huixopotchitl was shocked beyond measure. The Shaman suggested he
prepare himself for a ride on the Timesnake in order to locate his bones,
in the care of a person with the strange name of Doctortedfeldman, and
return them to the consecrated burial ground.
     When Huixopotchitl disappeared, the Shaman brooded over the parts of
the vision he had not shared. How the consecrated ground was sacred no
more, being underneath a wide flat ground where the well-fed, chubby
children of the gentry played football. How the bones themselves were behind
thick glass in a building containing many ingenious traps and devices.
And how Doctortedfeldman, a hard and flinty man, would prove a most difficult
person to convince.