They stopped before a large, one-story cube of orange hue. Jandro dismounted and stood aside for them to enter.
"You do my house honor," he said.
Underwood strained to pick up some of the language, but he could only guess at it. Phyfe and Terry Bernard were getting much of it, but not with Dreyer's facility. The semanticist walked toward the building confidently, then stopped at the entrance and regarded his cigar doubtfully. It was impossible to toss it aside upon the immaculate gardens or walkways. He finally put it out against his shoe and stuffed the shredded remains in his pocket.
The interior of the house was fitted with simple luxury. Abundant light streamed from colored prisms which brought in flooding beams of natural light from outside the decoratively translucent panels that formed the walls.
Almost at once, two others, women, entered from the opposite doorway into the room. One was elderly, but the other was younger than Jandro in appearance.
Then the Earthmen recognized them—the same who had been at the ship with Jandro that morning.
They gave involuntary cries at the sight of the Earthmen. Quickly, Jandro explained their presence and their denial of being gods. Gradually, the excitement of the two women abated and Jandro introduced them to Dreyer, who relayed the introductions.
"They will prepare our meal before we go," said Jandro, "but now you wish you view my father's discara and offer the apologetics. Come this way."
He led the way through the house to another room with a closed door. Even Dreyer's calm was deserting him as he wondered what would happen if he could not grasp instantly what was expected of him.
Jandro suddenly flung the door wide and ushered them in. "You will wish to be alone," he said. "I will await you."