“I am sorry to dump dirt on your theory,” the thranx said apologetically, “but it would appear they still insist on some kind of token payment.”
“But we’ve been through that a hundred times,” Lyra pointed out. “They want advanced technology and we’re not allowed to give it to them. Don’t tell me they’ve decided to accept our nontech trade goods?”
“No. Commander Porlezmozmith has devised a method of satisfying them without contravening any of the regulations governing commerce with Class Four-B natives.
“Many areas of high ground do not benefit from seasonal floods of the Skar and so do not receive deposits of fresh silt or yield the crops they otherwise might. The commander has reviewed this with representatives of Po Rabi and they understand the implications quite well.
“Salvenkovdew, who is in charge of the station’s chemistry section, has agreed to rig equipment to produce high-quality natural fertilizers for such highland fields. Under current regulations this type of fertilizer does not qualify as a high-tech commodity, so it can be traded to the natives, and the Po Rabians have agreed to accept it as payment.”
“Good old Porlez!” Etienne exclaimed. “She’s been working on our problem all along and never breathed a word of it.”
“Probably didn’t want to get our hopes up,” Lyra said. “I hope the form of payment isn’t to be taken as a comment on the value of our expedition.”
“Who cares? We’re on our way at last! Thanks,” he told the officer. Twin antennae dipped and bobbed by way of gracious reply. “When’s this ambassador supposed to get here?”
“The courier could not be certain. Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps several days from tomorrow. I am much gladdened for you both.”
“Thanks again. We’ve been ready to leave for months, though I suppose we can find a few last-minute things to take care of.”
“If you will excuse me.” The thranx officer released her iron grip on the support pillar and slowly backed clear of the closed bay doors. She looked much happier after she had moved well away from the potential gap.
Deep in conversation, Etienne and Lyra returned to their quarters. Working smoothly they began packing a motile with personal belongings and other last-minute items. They were going to be away from civilization for a long time and there would be no returning for a forgotten chip or bit of clothing.
At least they could consume native foods. That left a lot of room on board for other equipment, extra medical supplies, and tridee cubes.
Stowed in one of the bottom compartments was their cold-weather gear, untouched since its arrival on Tslamaina. They would need the suits when they entered the north polar latitudes. After the relentless heat of the lower Barshajagad, both looked forward to some cheerful freezing.
Two days passed before the ambassador’s ship appeared. His retinue was as modest in size and appearance as the vessel which bore them. Ror de-Kelwhoang looked disappointed when he was informed he could not bring any of his escort onto the station, but accepted the determination with diplomatic grace.
In its own modest way the ambassador’s official craft was impressive enough. Hired rowers held their double-bladed oars at attention as the ambassador debarked, though they were unable to keep their eyes from wandering toward the strange alien castle that stood high above the water on massive metal legs.
The meeting took place on a deck that encircled the station’s lower levels. Etienne and Lyra waited in their briefs and tops. Tslamaina was no place for formal wear.
The ambassador wore little more than the curious humans. His cache du sex was opaque, as was the custom, and his upper garment of silver and copper-colored threads concealed little despite covering him from neck to ankles. It made for a very flashy nonexistent costume. As Lyra had explained, the composition of the material as well as the intricate weave told a knowledgeable onlooker much about the wearer’s status, as well as the time of year and what holiday it might be. A good Mai tailor could make much out of little.
Lyra found such details of native life fascinating. Etienne bore her enthusiasm stoically. He was interested in minerals, not millinery.
The Mai ambassador spread his arms wide and turned a slow circle. The movement was fluid but slow, reflective of his advanced age. Porlezmozmith, who had met him before, performed the formal introduction. Her Mai was competent but could not match that of the Redowls; that was due to the thranx larynx, not a lack of linguistic talent.
“Ror de-Kelwhoang, our visitors who would travel your lands, Etienne and Lyra Redowl.”
“It is our pleasure to greet you,” Lyra added. “We look forward with endless delight to exploring your magnificent country. We are endlessly grateful for the permission to do so granted by your Zanur on behalf of your most powerful and respected city-state.”
The ambassador acknowledged the elegant tribute, which Lyra had rehearsed unto boredom, with a slight gesture signifying acceptance. His soft, perceptive eyes seemed fixed on Lyra. That was understandable. She stood eye to eye with the ambassador, which made her tall for a Mai female but not a grotesque scarecrow of a giant like her husband. It was the first time the ambassador had set eyes on the new aliens and he was evidently entranced by the similarities. Etienne had to stifle his amusement at the ambassador’s unabashed preoccupation. By Mai standards Lyra’s proportions were nothing short of awesome.
“It is with delight that I bring greetings and good wishes from Najoke de-me-Halmur, Moyt of Po Rabi. It has been decided after much careful discussion and agreement on a contract of exchange for certain materials to permit you free passage throughout all the vast territories controlled by our city-state.”
“I’m glad everything’s worked out,” Etienne replied. His Mai was more colloquial than Lyra’s, but the ambassador didn’t seem to mind the informality of the alien’s speech.
“What route will you be taking?”
Etienne smiled disingenuously. He and Lyra had debated the possibility of treachery by the locals and had decided it would be better to appear a little impolite and conceal the exact details of their itinerary.
“We’re not certain. Here and there—we travel where our thirst for knowledge draws us.”
Experienced diplomat that he was, de-Kelwhoang did not react to the probable evasion. “I envy you your freedom. Alas, my work rarely allows me to vary from a designated course. I have been told of the marvelous devices you possess which enable you to find your way at night and in bad weather as clearly as in cloudless daytime. Nevertheless, we would be remiss in our duty and it would be an offense to our honor if you were come to distress attempting to work your way into the main channel of the great Skar.” Etienne was immediately on guard.
“It is also necessary that you carry more than signed documents, which can be forged, to prove that you travel under the protection of all Po Rabi. That way the ignorant bandits and suspicious villagers you may encounter, many of whom have not mastered the art of reading, will allow you to pass freely through their lands.”
The ambassador turned and called over the railing toward his boat. A moment later two Mai appeared at the top of the stairs. Their fishnet attire was plain and their attitude deferential.
Etienne’s first thought was that they constituted some formal part of the ambassador’s entourage, but such was not the case.
“These will be your guides as well as your guarantors of safe passage,” de-Kelwhoang announced. He bade each in turn step forward and make gestures of obeisance before the humans.
The male’s name was Homat, the female’s Irquit. No honorific “de” prefix, Etienne noted. Both wore simple face makeup and had their long hair bound back in single braids in contrast to the ambassador’s elegant but thin coiffure. After bending and turning, both extended their hands outward toward the Redowls, palms upward.
After a moment’s hesitation Lyra reached out and pressed her own palms to each proffered pair, palm down. The much longer Mai fingers extended well up against her wrist. Each of the six fingers ended in a soft fleshy pad. There were no nails, no residual claws.
Then she stepped back and drew her husband and Porlezmozmith aside, spoke in symbospeech. “What’s your opinion, Commander? I don’t really want these two along, but I don’t want to offend this ambassador either, especially since we’re not yet on our way.”
“You are the xenologist, Lyra. But it would be bad diplomacy to refuse this offer of aid. They come to you as official representatives of their city. They do not look threatening to me and may indeed prove useful on your journey. Your mastery of Mai customs is far from complete.”
“If it was we wouldn’t be disappearing Upriver for a few months. Etienne, what’s your opinion?”
“If it was up to me I’d rather not have them along, but as Porlez says, this is in the nature of an official presentation and I don’t see how we can decline. I’m sure they’re being sent along to learn everything they can about us for their Zanur, but I don’t see much harm in that. They’ll have to stay out on the stern deck anyway, away from any sensitive controls. The air conditioning in the main cabins would kill them in a few hours, or at least make them damn uncomfortable.”
“All right then, they can come along. As you point out, Porlez, they may be of real help. If they cause trouble we can hold the Po Rabian Zanur directly responsible. Instruments aside, it’ll be nice to have along a couple of locals who are familiar with the territory. Maybe they know how to cook. It would be nice when we enter colder climes to be able to enjoy a real hot meal instead of what the exciter oven throws up at us.”
