At that moment a tall, fierce-looking warrior in fur hat and lacquered armor, with sword and shield and a lance on his back, said, "Hey, you!"
"This is familiar," Mack murmured to Marguerite. Turning to the warrior, he said, "Yes?"
"I haven't seen you around before. Who are you?"
"I," Mack said, "am the ambassador from Ophir. Take me to your khan. And by the way, this is my friend, Marguerite."
"Follow me," the warrior said.
Staying a few steps behind the warrior, out of whose way people scurried with much kow-towing, they walked through the teeming marketplace that lay on their way to Kublai's palace. There were smells aplenty here and they were Chinese smells for the most part, not European smells, though there were also curry smells from India, and hibiscus smells from the South Seas. Once they began walking among the stalls, the air became redolent with the odor of five-spice powder and Accent. Blocks of pressed seaweed, which people ate like knockwurst, exuded their characteristic odor both miasmic and iodinic.
Mack could detect the clean smells of bamboo and sandalwood above the more insistent odors of garlic, charcoal, rice-wine vinegar, and lichee nuts. There were baskets of barbecued pork and platters of General Khu's chicken. Duck Peking style could be seen everywhere, most of it doused in the ubiquitous Peking sauce. People with brownish yellow faces and straight black hair, of all sizes and shapes, gazed at them and passed comments. Because of the Language Spell that Mephistopheles had given him, Mack was able to understand all of the comments.
"What is it, Ben?"
"Sure looks like foreigners to me."
"What a funny skin color!"
"What ugly eyes!"
"And the way he's dressed! Nobody wears them velvet jackets around here."
"And look at her in them high heels! We don't even wear high heels around here, they're so tacky, so you can figure what they're like."
"Hell no, we don't!"
Noisy but cheerful, the crowd offered no violence. Mack, Marguerite, and the warrior left the market with its many smells and came to an altogether more neutral region in terms of odoriferousness, a great boulevard beyond which lay a noble palace.
They crossed the street and entered a long stone courtyard leading to a high gate. The gate was open and a captain of the guard stood before it in lacquered armor with sword and shield, and challenged them.
"Who goes there?'
"Anonymous soldier," the Mongol warrior replied, "bringing with him the ambassador from Ophir and his girlfriend to present to the Khan."
"What good timing!" the guard said. "Kublai Khan and his whole court happen to be assembled now, they've finished talking business and it's not yet time for dinner, and so are hoping for something amusing to come up. Pass, anonymous soldier with honored guests."
The halls of the Khan's palace were rich beyond description. So none will be attempted. Down the corridors they marched, past scrolls covered with Chinese poetry extolling the virtues of water-watching.
The final doors before the audience chamber were tall, oval shaped, richly ornamented, and made of bronze. They swung open of their own accord.
"Who shall I say is calling?" a small, dark man asked.
"The ambassador from Ophir," Mack said. "And his girlfriend."
The great audience room was lit by flambeaux, which, being a newly imported French kind of torch, burned with a cold, pitiless intellectual light. By that light Mack saw, ahead of him, on a stage, a group of richly garmented people. In the center, elevated on a small plinth above the others, was a middle-sized, middle aged, middle-tempered sort of a man of medium coloring and average good looks, a small beard, and on his head a turban from whose summit blazed a diamond so great that Mack knew even without a program that this fellow had to be Kublai Khan.
"So, you're from Ophir?" Kublai Khan said. Remembering what Mephistopheles had told him, Mack noticed that Kublai Khan had a scepter. It didn't look especially magical, but Mephistopheles was presumably correct in his information.
The Khan said, "You're the first Ophirean we've had visit. Or do you say Ophirese?"
"Whichever Your Majesty prefers," Mack said.
"Look, Marco!" Kublai said. "A fellow European!"
The young man in the hawk-feather cap looked up and scowled. "He's nobody I know. What's your name, fellow, and where do you come from?"
"I am Dr. Johann Faust," Mack said. "I was born in Wittenberg in Germany, but of late I'm the acting ambassador from Ophir."
"We have not seen your like in Europe," Marco said.
"No. We Ophirese are pretty much content to stay home. We're not a great trading nation anymore like your Venice, Marco."
"Ah. You know me, then?"
"Certainly. Your fame has spread even as far as Ophir."
Marco tried to maintain his frown, but he was flattered. Tell me, what are your principal products?" he asked.
"We export a lot of stuff," Mack said, "but our main products are gold, silver, ivory, apes, and peacocks."
"Apes! That's interesting," Marco said, "The great Khan has been looking for a good source of apes."
"We've got the best," Mack said. "We've got big apes and link apes, tiny apelets, huge gorillas, orange-furred orangutans, and so on. I guess we can fill about anything you might need in the ape department."
"Great, I'll get back to you on that," Marco said. "The great Khan might want some peacocks, too, if your prices are competitive."
Talk to me," Mack said, "I'll make you a price."
At that moment the court wizard spoke up. "Ophir, eh? The city that is near Sheba?"
"That's it," Mack said. "You got the right one."
"I shall check on this further," the wizard said.
"I'm sure you'll find our city is in order," Mack said. He chuckled, but no one else laughed at his little joke.
Kublai Khan said, "Welcome to my court, Dr. Faust, ambassador from Ophir. We shall wish to speak to you at some later time, because, let it be known, we love to hear stories of distant lands. Our dear son Marco regales us with many tales. But it is always good to get a new slant on these things."
"At Your Majesty's service," Mack said, and, noting that Marco's face had changed from a scowl into a rictus of annoyance, decided that he had made no friends here this day.
"And what of the woman?" Kublai Khan asked.
Mack hissed at Marguerite, "He's talking to you!"
"What's he saying?" Marguerite said. "I can't understand a word!"
"I'll speak for you," Mack said. To Kublai Khan he said, "This is Marguerite, a friend of mine, but she doesn't have a word of Mongol."
"No word at all? But we would fain hear her story!"
"I'll just have to translate it for you," Mack said, "which is a shame because she tells it so well herself."
"That won't be necessary," Kublai said. "Luckily, we have recently instituted a rapid-learning center for subjects and friends who don't understand Mongolian. You speak it perfectly, my dear Faust."
"Thank you," Mack said, bowing. "I've always had a bit of a knack for languages."
"But the woman is going to have to learn. Explain to her that she is to go to class now and come out when she can speak to us."
Mack said to Marguerite, "Look, I'm sorry about this, but they're taking you off to language class."
"Oh, no," Marguerite said. "Not school again!"
"Yes. I'm sorry. There's nothing I can do about it."
"Darn it!" Marguerite said. "This is no fun at all!" But she let herself be led away by two serving maids.