Raych kept his eyes down. He had taken a quick look at Namarti and it was all he needed. He had met the man ten years before, when Raych had been sent to lure Jo-Jo Joranum to his destruction, and one look was more than enough.
    Namarti had changed little in ten years. Anger and hatred were still the dominant characteristics one could see in him-or that Raych could see in him, at any rate, for he realized he was not an impartial witness-and those seemed to have marinated him into leathery permanence. His face was a trifle more gaunt, his hair was flecked with gray, but his thin-lipped mouth was set in the same harsh line and his dark eyes were as brilliantly dangerous as ever.
    That was enough and Raych kept his eyes averted. Namarti, he felt, was not the type of person who would take to someone who could stare lm straight in the face.
    Namarti seemed to devour Raych with his own eyes, but the slight sneer his face always seemed to wear remained.
    He turned to Andorin, who stood uneasily to one side, and said, quite ;is though the subject of conversation were not present, "This is the man, then."
    Andorin nodded and his lips moved in a soundless "Yes, Chief."
    Namarti said to Raych abruptly, "Your name."
    "Planchet, sir."
    "You believe in our cause?"
    "Yes, sir." He spoke carefully, in accordance with Andorin's instructions. "I am a democrat and want greater participation of the people in the governmental process."
    Namarti's eyes flicked in Andorin's direction. "A speechmaker."
    He looked back at Raych. "Are you willing to undertake risks for the cause?"
    "Any risk, sir."
    "You will do as you are told? No questions? No hanging back?"
    "I will follow orders."
    "Do you know anything about gardening?"
    Raych hesitated. "No, sir."
    "You're a Trantorian, then? Born under the dome?"
    "I............