"Aye, sir. Would ye fain regard the street therefrom?"
A few minutes later, Irants, standing back from his window and pointing, said: "There they be."
"Three," said Mjipa. "I'm sure they weren't there when I came in. I suppose they stepped around the corner for a cup of shurab."
"Are you sure which gang they belong to, Verar's or Kuimaj's?"
"They're Zhamanacians, all right. Kuimaj is using either Mutabwcians or local talent hired on the spot. If we could only figure out some way to get them to kill each other off..."
"Leaving only Khostavorn's pals to worry about, and then the government as soon as they find out about Isayin."
"This does give us a problem," said Mjipa.
"The understatement of the Krishnan year."
"We've got to get our gear to the Tarvezid some time today. Then I'll leave you there to watch it while I go to fetch our academic friend."
The front-door gong called Irants away. Alicia asked: "How'd you get so filthy, Percy?"
"Carrying rubbish to build a fire, to draw off the watchmen. Can't decide which I need worse, a bath or a few hours' doss. Hang it all, Lish, if I only had my kit for going Krishnan! I could at least turn you into a plausible one."
"We've got all those paints Minyev brought. We could mix up an olive brown pretty close to these folks' color. I don't suppose it'll poison us, considering how they slather it on."
"That still leaves our hair."
"We might make a sample of bluish-green paint and try it on my hair. I don't know what we could do about yours."
Mjipa ran his fingers through his bush of wiry black wool. "I could shave it off, as the Zhamanacians do, but I should have to go naked; and—ah—one good look would tell any Krishnan I wasn't ... Well, you know what I mean. I've always disliked wearing native dress anyway. Seems like letting the side down."
"You've been wearing that kilt all this time."
"I know. Didn't want to shock the natives more than I had to. They 're not used to Earthlings here. But I shall be glad to get back into good old Terran trousers."
"Just a bigoted anthropocentric, that's all you are."
"An anthro-what? Whatever I am, I shall have to suppress my prejudices. I'm not quite a bloody fool, you know. But I'm afraid nothing will make me look like a real Krishnan."
"What about my ears?" asked Alicia.
"By Jove, I forgot! I'll see what I can do with homemade papier mâché." He yawned prodigiously at the door to his room. "The bath will have to wait. Wake me in two or three hours, and we'll have a go at it."
After dinner, they mixed paints and tried dabs on skin and on Alicia's hair. Paint in her hair proved unsatisfactory; the hairs stuck together in sticky clumps, not at all like real Krishnan hair.
"What a ghastly mess!" said Alicia, looking in the mirror. She angrily wiped away a tear.
"Looks as if we should have to make a Zhamanacian of you after all, and shave it all off."
"Oh, Percy! What a horrible idea! It'll probably grow out dark. And I was always proud of my hair."
"We have first-class dyes at Novo; Sivird carries a line. Any better ideas?"
She thought a while and said: "I'm afraid not. Oh, well, it'll be partly grown back by the time we get to Novo."
"You'll have to shave your pubic hair, too. Krishnans don't have any."
"I'll have to wear that new kilt I bought, to hide my navel. Krishnans don't have them, either. So we'll just leave my personal person alone."
"Then you won't be an authentic Zhamanacian. They despise clothes. Hats and shoes are allowable, but anything between is tabu."
"I can't help that. I'll just say I've moved to Kalwm for good and mean to adopt their customs. All right, damn it, go ahead and shave my hair! I'll hate you for it; I loved my hair."
As Mjipa got basin, soap, and razor ready, she added: "What about you? As you said, nobody would ever take you for a Krishnan, even shaved and painted."
"First time in my life I was sorry I belonged to the noble Negroid race. Maybe I should go on all fours, while you led me on a leash. You could say I was a monster from the jungle of Aurus."
"Wait a minute," said Alicia. "I'm getting an idea. I know! We'll make you into a tailed Krishnan. Some of those on Za grow pretty big."
"And how, my dear girl, am I supposed to grow a tail?"
"We'll fake one. You've got socks in your baggage, haven't you?"
"Certainly; three pairs. I don't wear them in this climate, but they're there."
"We'll stuff them, and I'll sew them together. I can fasten the tail to the underside of your kilt, so it hangs down behind. You can walk hunched over, the way they do."
"Sheer genius! I'll climb back up the Terran family tree and be your humble monkey slave. My wages shall be one banana a day. But don't think it gives you any permanent rights over me!"
The declining sun saw a curious procession emerge from Irants's Inn. First came an obvious Zhamanacian lady of quality, wearing sandals and a kilt but otherwise nude. Her head was shaven. Her skin was a medium brown with a slight greenish tinge, decorated with stripes and swirls of scarlet and black.
Long, feathery smelling antennae sprouted from the inner ends of her eyebrows. Percy and Alicia had made these with Alicia's sewing scissors from some of the paper Minyev had bought, attached with paste improvised from badr flour and water. The same paste, mixed with chewed paper, furnished the points to the woman's ears; a close look would have quickly disclosed their artificially.
The female was bedizened with the ostentatious jeweled necklace that Ainkhist had given Alicia, and also the more modest one that she had bought herself. As such a noblewoman would, she strode along as if not in the least concerned that some evildoer try to seize her jewels or her person.
For protection, she plainly relied upon a huge, sword-wearing tailed Krishnan who shambled behind her. This person, of darker hue, was also shaven-headed and furnished with antennae. A tail, made of socks stuffed with rags, hung down from beneath his kilt. He staggered under two large canvas bags, glowering right and left to make sure that no evildoer took liberties with his mistress.
The watchers, lounging in doorways across the street from the inn, gave the pair no more than a cursory glance. Persons of their sort were a common sight in this port city, which brought together visitors from all the shores of the Triple Seas.
At the berth of the Tarvezid, longshoremen were walking up the gangplank bearing loads of merchandise and returning without them. On the ship, two Krishnans wearing the diaperlike garment of the middle latitudes stood about, ordering the stowing of cargo. One was identified by the large medallion on his bare chest as the captain.
When the gangplank was momentarily free, Mjipa and Alicia walked up to the deck. The captain confronted them, saying:"Who be ye? We allow no visitors during loading."
"I'm Percy Mjipa, Terran consul, and this is Mistress Alicia Dyckman, also a Terran. We have three berths reserved."
"Oh!" said the captain. "Methought I caught an Ertso sound in your voices, despite your Khaldonian aspect. Be ye those for whom that little Kalwmian bespoke three places, some days agone?"
"The same. You are—?"
"Captain Farrá bad-Da'mir, at your service. Master Ghanum!" The captain addressed the other officer, evidently his first officer. "Show these passengers where to stow their gear." He turned back. "Will ye abide aboard the night? The ship's a good place to evitate during loading."
"We shall be on and off. We'll try to keep out of your way."