Carse turned to see that the big Khond slave, who was third man on his oar, was eyeing him with hostile suspicion.
The man went on. “Word went round that you were a captured Khond spy but that’s a lie. More likely you’re a Jekkaran masquerading as a Khond, set here among us by the Sarks.”
A low growl ran through the oar bank.
Carse had known he would have to account for himself somehow and had been thinking quickly. Now he spoke up.
“I’m no Jekkaran but a tribesman from far beyond Shun. From so far that all this is like a new world to me.”
“You might be,” the big Khond conceded grudgingly. “You’ve got a queer look and way of talking. What brought you and this hog of Valkis aboard?”
Boghaz was awake now and the fat Valkisian answered hastily. “My friend and I were wrongfully accused of theft by the Sarks! The shame of it—I, Boghaz of Valkis, convicted of pilfering! An outrage on justice!”
The Khond spat disgustedly and turned away. “I thought so.”
Presently Boghaz found an opportunity to whisper to Carse. “They think now we’re a pair of condemned thieves. Best let them think so, my friend.”
“What are you but that?” Carse retorted brutally.