Genevieve had fallen asleep by the time a group straggled from the city gate and approached the ship, most of them carrying long, woven mats with handles at the sides. One of them led a huge, wallowing lizard with tall fins on its back. Aufors, masked and gloved, went out to talk with them. When he came back and took off the mask, his expression was grim.
“What?” barked the Marshal.
“Sir, they are laying a mat at the foot of the landing ramp. We are to step down on it. Another will be put in front of that, and as we move forward, the one behind will be picked up and brought front. We are not to soil their country by setting foot on the soil of Mahahm.”
The Marshal stared out the port, calculating. “It’ll take hours for all of us to get into the city that way.”
“We don’t go into the city. The house we arranged for is by the city wall, they’ve cut a door through the wall directly into it. We are not to set foot in the city, not even on mats.”
“It will still take hours for all of us.”
“I think their idea, sir, is both to make our visit inconvenient and to restrict the number who go. Of course, the fewer we are, the more helpless we are.”
“Damn it, Aufors! There are other non-Mahahmbi here. They aren’t outside the walls.”
Delganor had listened to this interchange with an expression of lofty disinterest. He descended from his height to comment, “The Shah has seemingly chosen to take umbrage at us. They don’t like outsiders breaching their conventions.”
“Conventions?” barked the Marshal.
“Of which there are many,” said the Prince, turning to peer out at the clutter of men and mats.
“This is intolerable,” said the Marshal, with an angry glance at the Prince’s back. “What do you think Colonel?”
“I think it’s all hokum, Sir, done for effect. It’s an attempt to set us at a disadvantage, as was their suggestion we hire malghaste servants.”
The Marshal hooted. “Then we shan’t let them get away with it. I think the Prince, the Invigilator, and I should insist on seeing the house, and when we return, if anyone goes, we’ll all go, including the grav-sleds with our cargo. While we’re gone, all of you get into those suits we brought, the cloaks and the gloves and the metal visors. I don’t want a square centimeter of skin or hair showing on anyone when we get back.” He turned to the Prince with a peremptory expression. “Your Highness, let’s attend to this.”
The Prince, seeming slightly amused by this usurpation of command, did as was suggested, the Invigilator following along without change of expression. From inside the lock, Genevieve could hear the interchange.
Her father: “Nonsense. Who would bring a woman to a place like this? It is not fit for women. Take us to the house we are to occupy. No, there won’t be any others getting off the ship until we’ve seen the house. If we don’t like it, we’ll go away.”
They went, Prince and Marshal and Rongor looming over the furtive shapes in cloaks and veils, off toward the small gate in the city wall. There was a recently built guardhouse at the gate—the mud bricks darker and rougher than those smoothed by incessant shore winds.
“What’s that lizard thing the man is leading?” Genevieve whispered to one of the cargo handlers.
“According to the envoy, that’s how people move around during the hottest times of the day. The beast is called a harpta. It will lower those fins at command, and you can walk in the shade.”
“That beast is huge! It could easily crush anyone walking beside it,” she whispered. “I think it would serve to discourage travel. Which is no doubt the point of the exercise.”
After a time the three Havenites came through the distant gate and stalked arrogantly toward the ship, looking over the heads of the mud-colored mob that gathered and roiled like dirty water. Delganor and Rongor stayed on the sands, speechifying to the Mahahmbi delegation while the Marshal came aboard.
“All right. Now we go out in full array, all masks in place, please, everyone gloved. Aufors, keep your wife with you, and come about fifth in line, heads up, please, and lengthen your strides as much as you can.” He turned to the others. “Ignore the mats. They’ve made their attempt at embarrassing us, now we ignore it. The grav-sleds come last. Get the cargo inside the walls—there’s a open area there—drop your loads and return to the ship with the empty sleds. Captain, I’m trusting you to keep everything stowed and ready, just in case we have to leave in a hurry.”