She put on the dress Trigger had been wearing and smoothed it down. Mihul surveyed the result. She nodded. "Perfect." She took Trigger's robe and scarf from the back of a chair where someone had draped them and handed them over.
"You won't wear the scarf," she said. "Just shove it into a pocket of the coat."
The girl slung the cloak over her shoulder and stood holding the scarf. Mihul looked her over once more. "You'll do," she said. She smiled briefly. "All right."
The facsimile glanced at Trigger again, turned and moved attractively out of the room. Trigger frowned.
"Something wrong?" Mihul asked. She had gone over to a wall basin and was washing out a tumbler.
"Why does she walk like that?"
"The little swing in the rear? She's studied it." Mihul half filled the tumbler with water, fished a transparent splinter of something out of a pocket and cracked the splinter over the edge of the glass. "Among your friends it's referred to as the Argee Lilt. She's got you down pat, kid."
Trigger didn't comment. "Am I supposed to put on her clothes?"
"No. We've got another costume for you." Mihul came over, holding out the glass. "This is for you."
Trigger looked at the glass suspiciously. "What's in it?"