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He fumbled in the capacious folds of his cloak for his papers. His voice sounded shrill, even to himself. "Bartol son of Berihun in respectful greeting, rieko mori." Unmistakably, Vorongil's snort was laughter. "So you've been talking, Ringg?" Ringg retorted, "Better that I tell one man than that you have to hunt the planet over or run the long haul with the drive-room watches short by one man."
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