By this time I was running low on curiosity and didn't wonder till much,
much later how televised pictures were transmitted around the curve of a
planet. Evarin sharpened the focus down on the long Earth-type bar where
a tall man in Terran clothes was talking to a pale-haired girl. Evarin
said, "By now, Race Cargill has decided, no doubt, that you fell into
his trap and into the hands of the Ya-men. He is off-guard now."
And suddenly the whole thing seemed so unbearably, illogically funny
that my shoulders shook with the effort to keep back dangerous laughter.
Since I'd landed in Charin, I'd taken great pains to avoid the Trade
City, or anyone who might have associated me with it. And Rakhal,
somehow aware of this, had conveniently filled up the gap. By posing as
me.
It wasn't nearly as difficult as it sounded. I had found that out in
Shainsa. Charin is a long, long way from the major Trade City near the
Kharsa. I hadn't a single intimate friend there, or within hundreds of
miles, to see through the imposture.
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