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Mahmoud
turned
,
smiled
briefly
and
said
in
clipped
Oxonian
speech
,
"
For
the
most
part
,
I
’
ve
been
saying
,
‘
Slow
down
,
my
dear
boy
–
do
,
please
.
’
"
And
what
does
he
say
?
"
"
The
rest
of
our
conversation
is
personal
,
private
,
of
no
possible
interest
to
others
,
I
assure
you
.
Greetings
,
y
’
know
.
Old
friends
.
"
He
turned
back
to
Mike
and
continued
to
chat
–
in
Martian
.
In
fact
,
Mike
was
telling
his
brother
Mahmoud
all
that
had
happened
to
him
in
the
fortnight
since
he
had
last
seen
him
,
so
that
they
might
grok
closer
–
but
Mike
’
s
abstraction
of
what
to
tell
was
purely
Martian
in
concept
,
it
being
concerned
primarily
with
new
water
brothers
and
the
unique
flavor
of
each
?
the
gentle
water
that
was
Jill
?
the
depth
of
Anne
?
the
strange
not
-
yet
-
fully
-
grokked
fact
that
Jubal
tasted
now
like
an
egg
,
then
like
an
Old
One
,
but
was
neither
-
the
ungrokkable
vastness
of
ocean
-
Mahmoud
had
less
to
tell
Mike
since
less
had
happened
in
the
interim
to
him
,
by
Martian
standards
–
one
Dionysian
excess
quite
un
-
Martian
and
of
which
he
was
not
proud
,
one
long
day
spent
lying
face
down
in
Washington
’
s
Suleiman
Mosque
,
the
results
of
which
he
had
not
yet
grokked
and
was
not
ready
to
discuss
.
No
new
water
brothers
.
He
stopped
Mike
presently
and
offered
his
hand
to
Jubal
.
"
You
’
re
Dr
.
Harshaw
,
I
know
.
Valentine
Michael
thinks
he
has
introduced
me
to
all
of
you
–
and
he
has
,
by
his
rules
.
"
Harshaw
looked
him
over
as
he
shook
hands
with
him
.
Chap
looked
and
sounded
like
a
huntin
’
,
shootin
’
,
sportin
’
Britisher
,
from
his
tweedy
,
expensively
casual
clothes
to
a
clipped
grey
moustache
?
but
his
skin
was
naturally
swarthy
rather
than
ruddy
tan
and
the
genes
for
that
nose
came
from
somewhere
close
to
the
Levant
.
Harshaw
did
not
like
fake
anything
and
would
choose
to
eat
cold
compone
over
the
most
perfect
syntho
"
sirloin
.
"
But
Mike
treated
him
as
a
friend
,
so
"
friend
"
he
was
,
until
proved
otherwise
.
To
Mahmoud
,
Harshaw
looked
like
a
museum
exhibit
of
what
he
thought
of
as
a
"
Yank
"
-
vulgar
,
dressed
too
informally
for
the
occasion
,
loud
,
probably
ignorant
and
almost
certainly
provincial
.
A
professional
man
,
too
,
which
made
it
worse
,
as
in
Dr
.
Mahmoud
’
s
experience
most
American
professional
men
were
under
-
educated
and
narrow
,
mere
technicians
.
He
held
a
vast
but
carefully
concealed
distaste
for
all
things
American
.
Their
incredible
polytheistic
babel
of
religions
,
of
course
,
although
they
were
hardly
to
be
blamed
for
that
?
their
cooking
(
cooking
!
)
,
their
manners
,
their
bastard
architecture
and
sickly
arts
?
and
their
blind
,
pathetic
,
arrogant
belief
in
their
superiority
long
after
their
sun
had
set
.
Their
women
.
Their
women
most
of
all
,
their
immodest
,
assertive
women
,
with
their
gaunt
,
starved
bodies
which
nevertheless
reminded
him
disturbingly
of
houris
.
Four
of
them
here
,
crowded
around
Valentine
Michael
–
at
a
meeting
which
certainly
should
be
all
male
.
But
Valentine
Michael
had
offered
him
all
these
people
–
including
these
ubiquitous
female
creatures
–
offered
them
proudly
and
eagerly
as
his
water
brothers
,
thereby
laying
on
Mahmoud
a
family
obligation
closer
and
more
binding
than
that
owed
to
the
sons
of
one
’
s
father
’
s
brother
–
since
Mahmoud
understood
the
Martian
term
for
such
accretive
relationships
from
direct
observation
of
what
it
meant
to
Martians
and
did
not
need
to
translate
it
clumsily
and
inadequately
as
"
catenative
assemblage
,
"
nor
even
as
"
things
equal
to
the
same
thing
are
equal
to
each
other
.
"
He
had
seen
Martians
at
home
;
he
knew
their
extreme
poverty
(
by
Earth
standards
)
;
he
had
dipped
into
–
and
had
guessed
at
far
more
–
of
their
cultural
extreme
wealth
;
and
had
grokked
quite
accurately
the
supreme
value
that
Martians
place
on
interpersonal
relationships
.
