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 This is it, Hunter said. He stopped at double doors set into a round
archway in the wall. This wall was white; the doors were red. A small
brass bell hung on the hook to one side of the doors.
 The home of Marco Polo, Marcia said quietly, looking up at the roof
beyond the treetops.  Wow.
Steve smiled. Ever since Hunter had been kidnapped, Marcia s
manner had been looser more spontaneous and less stuffy. He
realized that he had actually come to like her.
Hunter rang the little bell.
 We have to remember which languages to use, Marcia reminded
them.
 Correct, said Hunter.  You two should not reveal that you can
understand Italian, if he uses it. I will use it with him to make what I
expect will be a positive impression. We can all speak Mongol with
him.
 Won t he wonder how you learned it? Steve asked.  I mean,
supposedly, Marcia and I live in this empire, but you re from
somewhere else.
 I will explain that I learned Mongol on my journey here.
The sound of a small door opening and closing reached them from
beyond the wall. Steve heard footsteps on stone coming toward them.
 The servants could be Chinese, right? Steve asked.  But then, how
could he communicate with them?
 Maybe they aren t, said Marcia.
 I will try Mongol with the first servant, said Hunter.  They must be
bilingual if not multilingual. The question will be which languages
they speak.
The red door opened. A tall, slender man with graying hair bowed
perfunctorily and studied Hunter carefully, appraising his robes; he
gave Steve and Marcia only a quick glance. However, he said nothing,
waiting for Hunter to speak first.
 He s Chinese, isn t he? Steve muttered.
Marcia nodded.
 I am Hunter, a trader from Europe, Hunter said in Mongol.  I
arrived recently and would like to speak with the Venetian Marco
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Polo. Is he here?
The servant looked at Steve and spoke in Chinese.  You can translate
for your friend? What does he want?
 I speak Chinese, said Hunter, in that language. He repeated his
request to see Marco Polo.
 Please wait. I will return shortly. With a deeper bow this time, the
servant closed the door again and hurried back to the house at a brisk
walk.
 Well, he must be here, said Steve.  Otherwise, the servant could
have told us he wasn t.
 Now the big question is whether he ll see us, said Marcia.
A moment later, the door of the house opened and closed again. The
servant s footsteps tapped quickly on the stones as he hurried back.
This time he drew both doors open, bowing deeply as he moved out of
their way.
 Welcome, welcome. Please come in.
Hunter entered first. Steve waited for Marcia to go next, but she
shook her head tightly. He followed Hunter and Marcia came in
behind him. The servant closed the doors behind her.
The grounds were covered by a small, grassy lawn shaded by the trees
they had seen over the wall. A leafy hedge lined the inside of the wall.
A walk of precisely cut stones led to the front door.
The house itself had been constructed of wood, now painted white.
The front door stood in the center, with precisely matched windows
on each side; the entire building, down to every detail, was bilaterally
symmetrical. Long, white curtains fluttered in the open windows.
The servant hurried from behind Marcia to beat Hunter to the front
door. He flung it open and stepped aside, bowing again as his guests
entered. Another servant, a young woman with long braids, held the
door inside, also bowing.
The servants led them through a foyer into a large sitting room. Large
tables of Chinese rosewood, small ones of black lacquer, and
rosewood chairs lined the room. The chairs were padded with
embroidered silk cushions; porcelain vases on the tables held green
plants or flowers. Chinese landscape scrolls hung on the walls.
A European man of average height entered. He had curly brown hair
and a neatly trimmed matching beard, and he wore a plain blue
Chinese robe. Steve judged him to be in his late thirties.
 Welcome, he said in formally in Italian.  I am Marco Polo. Do you
understand Italian?
 Yes, Hunter responded in that language.  I am Hunter, a trader.
My companions are close friends.
 Welcome, Polo said to Steve and Marcia in Chinese, with a slight
bow.
 Thank you, said Steve, bowing. In the rear of the house, he could
hear other footsteps and muffled conversation. Obviously, Polo
employed many servants.
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Next to him, Marcia also bowed but said nothing.
Switching back to Italian, Polo added,  I am not fluent in Chinese, but
I have picked up a few words.
 You have done very well here, said Hunter.
 By your accent, you are not Italian, Polo said to Hunter.  Where are
you from?
 Switzerland.
 Switzerland! I have heard it is beautiful there. My travels never took
me that direction.
Steve glanced quickly at Marcia. He did not recall Hunter discussing
this detail of his role. She did not react, so Steve decided that Hunter
knew what he was doing.
 However, I have traveled a great deal, said Hunter.  I have not been
home for many years.
 Have you been to Venice? Can you bring me news of my home city?
 I can tell you a little.
For the first time, Polo smiled broadly.  Excellent! Please sit down.
Steve waited for Hunter to move first. Hunter accepted a large
rosewood chair. A small black lacquered table inlaid with abalone [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]