"At least they have a civilization." Spearman was arguing with himself. "A potential technology. That's good gardening. Good tools, weapons."
"Nan, see if you can ask Mrs. President to show us the town."
Pakriaa caught on swiftly and was delighted....
The first of the tree-sheltered areas contained all the dwelling houses, dulled by the splendor of Pakriaa's. Ann was invited to enter this blue palace, Pakriaa making it clear that the men must not follow. Ann emerged, red-faced. Later, when it would not be so patent that she was talking of Pakriaa's house, Ann said, "Couldn't make out much detail. Dim, and no lamps burning, though I think I saw some clay things like old Roman lamps. Clean, funny perfume smells. I met—her mother maybe. Incredibly old anyway, and almost black. Their skin must change color with age."
"Dirt more likely," Spearman said.
"Not a bit of it. Very clean. Just a dry little ghost in a fancy room of her own, with a—a male slave manicuring her toenails. We haven't seen any old women out in the open."
"Sheltered and reverenced, maybe," Paul said. "Natural."
"Her Highness has a—I suppose you'd have to call it a harem. Ten little husbands, or maybe eleven."
"What a girl!" said Spearman.
Ann was amused, though her cheeks were flaming. "I was offered one."