A sore dissapointment. Discovered this book in a used bookstore about 2 years after my second read of Aztec, so was anticipating reading the sequel with relish. Didn't even come close to cutting the mustard. A quarter of the way through I realized that either Jennings was on a combination of psychotropic drugs when he wrote this one or dead. Oops. He was dead. Gleason and Podrug cranked out this, stylisticaly, very poor and thematicaly, boring book from Jennings research and notes gathered before he died. Can't remember how many times I winced at the clumsy technique or huffed at the slow pace. These guys would have done Jennings a huge favor in NOT writing this follow-up to his masterpiece (one of the greatest historical novels of all time). Did finally finish it but wanted to kill the "authors" or myself more than once.