"Sorry," Serrin apologized vaguely. He was too busy taking in the lobby of the Imperial after the cab ride from the airport. "Is this just the tourist stuff?" He was impressed. The wall hangings, tapestries, and batik-like prints looked good enough to be worth a lot of nuyen. "Mostly," Michael said. "Any animal skin is fake, of course. The Zulu Nation is very tough on that one. Poaching carries an automatic death sentence. Being out in the wilds with an unlicensed weapon gets you a minimum twenty years. Death, if they reckon it’s a hunting weapon. One of the little quirks around here is that it’s less dangerous to have an assault cannon in the bush than to have a grotty little rifle, at least as far as the law is concerned. Heavy weaponry ruins the skins."