“Certainly, madam.”
She muttered in System English, “Thank goodness for that — I’ve run out of Sargonese,” then went on in Interlingua, “Then we will speak it, if you don’t mind.”
“As you wish, madam,” Thorby answered in the same language, then added in System English, “unless you would rather use another language.”
She looked startled. “How many languages do you speak?”
Thorby thought. “Seven, ma’am. I can puzzle out some others, but I cannot say that I speak them.”
She looked even more surprised and said slowly, “Perhaps I have made a mistake. But — correct me if I am wrong and forgive my ignorance — I was told that you were a beggar’s son in Jubbulpore.”
“I am the son of Baslim the Cripple,” Thorby said proudly, “a licensed beggar under the mercy of the Sargon. My late father was a learned man. His wisdom was famous from one side of the Plaza to the other.”
“I believe it. Uh . . . are all beggars on Jubbul linguists?”
“What, ma’am? Most of them speak only gutter argot. But my father did not permit me to speak it . . . other than professionally, of course.”
“Of course.” She blinked. “I wish I could have met your father.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Will you sit down? I am ashamed that I have nothing but the floor to offer . . . but what I have is yours.”
“Thank you.” She sat on the floor with more effort than did Thorby, who had remained thousands of hours in lotus seat, shouting his plea for alms.
Thorby wondered whether to close the door, whether this lady — in Sargonese he thought of her as “my lady” even though her friendly manner made her status unclear — had left it open on purpose. He was floundering in a sea of unknown customs, facing a social situation totally new to him. He solved it with common sense; he asked, “Do you prefer the door open or closed, ma’am?”
“Eh? It doesn’t matter. Oh, perhaps you had better leave it open; these are bachelor quarters of the starboard moiety and I’m supposed to live in port purdah, with the unmarried females. But I’m allowed some of the privileges and immunities of . . . well, of a pet dog. I’m a tolerated ‘fraki.’ ” She spoke the last word with a wry smile.
Thorby had missed most of the key words. “A ‘dog’? That’s a wolf creature?”
She looked at him sharply. “You learned this language on Jubbul?”
“I have never been off Jubbul, ma’am — except when I was very young. I’m sorry if I do not speak correctly. Would you prefer Interlingua?”
“Oh, no. You speak System English beautifully . . . a better Terran accent than mine — I’ve never been able to get my birthplace out of my vowels. But it’s up to me to make myself understood. Let me introduce myself. I’m not a trader; I’m an anthropologist they are allowing to travel with them. My name is Doctor Margaret Mader.”
Thorby ducked his head and pressed his palms together. “I am honored. My name is Thorby, son of Baslim.”
“The pleasure is mine, Thorby. Call me ‘Margaret.’ My title doesn’t count here anyhow, since it is not a ship’s title. Do you know what an anthropologist is?”
“Uh, I am sorry, ma’am — Margaret.”
“It’s simpler than it sounds. An anthropologist is a scientist who studies how people live together.”
Thorby looked doubtful. “This is a science?”
“Sometimes I wonder. Actually, Thorby, it is a complicated study, because the patterns that men work out to live together seem unlimited. There are only six things that all men have in common with all other men and not with animals — three of them part of our physical makeup, the way our bodies work, and three of them are learned. Everything else that a man does, or believes, all his customs and economic practices, vary enormously. Anthropologists study those variables. Do you understand variable’?”
“Uh,” Thorby said doubtfully, “the x in an equation?”
“Correct!” she agreed with delight. “We study the x’s in the human equations. That’s what I’m doing. I’m studying the way the Free Traders live. They have worked out possibly the oddest solutions to the difficult problem of how to be human and survive of any society in history. They are unique.” She moved restlessly. “Thorby, would you mind if I sat in a chair? I don’t bend as well as I used to.”