Fine, Hilfy thought. Great.
“Small misunderstanding,” Haisi said, with a wave of his hand. And said something to the police, low and fast. Stationmaster, she caught that word: stsho; and ambassador. And trouble. But she could guess that one.
The Personage of Urtur was ruffled. Highly. The Personage of Urtur found the business too evidently distressful, and abandoned it to her Voice, a towering mahe with a furious scowl.
“You disrupt whole office, you got clerk scare’ like bunch pirate, what for you damn’ fool action?”
“Ask him! He blocked the door, wouldn’t let honest citizens in or out!” You didn’t yell at the Personage of Urtur. The Personage of Urtur didn’t debate such matters. The Voice did. And Hilfy found her ears persistently flattening. She made every effort to keep a pleasant look on her face, and to keep to logical points, when at the same time the Voice tried to provoke gut level reactions. She wanted to make mincemeat out of Haisi Ana-kehnandian—who sat smoking like a factory, with a frown on his face.
The Voice did ask Ana-kehnandian, evidently. The two of them talked back and forth in one of Ijir’s numerous languages, in which the Voice grew quieter and quieter, and even good-humored—which suggested, first, they had no wish for the hani foreigner to understand; and second, they were out of the same district of Ijir, and therefore Haisi Ana-kehnandian must be a good upstanding fellow.
This went on and on and back and forth, and in the meanwhile the Personage sat surveying the potted plant on her desk and frowning mightily.
“You make mess in customs office,” the Voice then said in the pidgin. “Personage not happy. You make lot public mess, scare people—“
“I take it the Personage understands the Trade. Ask the Personage whether she has given any authority to this person to harass my crew, threaten me, create a riot in customs, hold my cargo for ransom, and ask personal questions about a stsho passenger who’s never set foot on this station nor applied for local customs clearance. I feared firearms were present. I went over that desk in protection of my life! This advised innocent persons to take cover, for their personal safety! This fool committed the aggression, by blocking the exit in an aggressive manner, in the clear intent to do violence!”
That prompted another conference, a lengthy one. And more frowns from Haisi.
The Personage then took to pinching leaves off the plant on her desk, and paying no attention to either of them.
“Personage not like speak pidgin. Say ‘pologize for distress you. Say customs cleared. All fine.”
She had to replay that again to believe she’d heard it. But Haisi looked far from happy with the situation.
“Then thank the Personage on behalf of my ship and my passenger.”
“She understand fine. She say, Be careful with stsho. Good luck on you deals on station. You need all luck you got.”
“Ask her why.”
“Not need ask. Ask you: why be fool? Why make damn lot racket, attract notice? Ask you: what benefit you this stsho thing?”
“Money. Money, like making a profit on this trip, like getting hired like any merchant captain—“
“You not merchant. You Chanur.”
“Gods-rotted right I’m a merchant! What do you think, I’m rich? I travel from station to station for a hobby?”
“You got aunt.”
“The gods-be universe has got Pyanfar Chanur, but I don’t! She can’t be head of Chanur any longer, she can’t sit in the han, she can’t hold property and she can’t vote on Anuurn— Your informers have been lying down asleep if you think I’m on her payroll! My ship hauls freight to pay the bills and keep our clan’s taxes paid. That’s all, no politics, no secrets, and no interest in secrets. I’m paid to transport this thing and transport it I will, until I can get the thing off my deck to its legitimate owner. But don’t expect my aunt knows. We don’t speak!”
Evidently it was not the answer the Voice or the Personage expected. There was another sharp exchange between the two of them. Something—she understood two of the mahen languages—about relatives and assumptions and another Personage of feminine gender.