“You need it,” I retorted.
The sheet came down and a baleful glare fixed on me.
“Listen, garbage breath, the early bird may catch the worm, but for all I care, he can have it. I don’t intend to eat worms.”
“They may be all you can afford. If your wallet gets any lighter, it’ll waft away in the next strong breeze.”
Martin cursed under his breath, then tossed the sheets aside and sat on the edge of the bed.
“The bathroom is that way,” I said helpfully, pointing the way with a foot or two of tongue. “Brush your teeth before you talk to another human being-otherwise we’ll have two corpses on our hands.”
His eyes opened wide in horror. “That bad?”
“No, that good.”
He shuddered. “Anything that smells good to you is certain to be bad news.” He shuffled off, calling for his toothbrush as though it was a pet that would come when summoned.
Shorter than humans, taller than me, the Erintie resembled nothing so much as short-legged giraffes with a bifurcated, noseless head. One eye rose on either side of the elongated neck on a short stalk. Between the base of the eye stalks was the mouth opening with its short, almost flaplike tongue. The neck was boneless, supported entirely by musculature in the same manner as an elephant’s trunk. The body was covered with what looked like dappled gray felt the color of a conservative business suit.
On the way out to the Erintie enclave, I had made Martin stop at a library so I could do some quick research. If Pete was hiring us as experts, it was the least we could do. I even went so far as to memorize a few phrases of pidgin Erintie.
I learned that, at least as far as humans were concerned, the Erintie were named after the man who first described them in the literature, Erin T. Booker. They were good-natured about the name and used it when talking to humans. On their home world, they lived on temperate savannahs, drinking nectar and rain water that collected in huge trumpet-shaped flowers on twisted vines the size of tree trunks. They were not above eating small animals, which they swallowed whole, lacking anything like teeth.
Representatives had willingly returned to Earth with the first explorers, partly out of a sense of adventure, and partly because humans and Erintie truly enjoyed each others’ company.
After several wrong turns, Martin finally located the local Erintie colony. When we got out of the car, Martin and I were immediately aware of dozens of fluted voices, calling to one another across the meadow. Lovely sounds, like organ pipes. The Erintie tended towards monotonicity, forming words with their leathery lips and by varying the volume of their voices. Every Erintie neck was a different length, so each individual had a distinctive pitch. The resulting sounds did not fit the Western notion of a chromatic musical scale, but I would gladly have stayed and listened for ages.
My vocal apparatus, consisting of a membrane, was able to reproduce a fair approximation of the Erintie speech. I walked up to the nearest one and hooted a greeting.
The Erintie drew himself to his full height and stared down at me. Alter a lengthy pause he turned away, first ambling, then gaining speed until he was in a full gallop.
Martin glared at me angrily. “Now, look what you’ve done! If you’ve gotten us off on the wrong foot—”
“All I said was, ‘Sweet fruit nectar to you.’ It’s a standard greeting. If you’ve got any better ideas, I’d be glad to hear them,” I replied testily.
Martin stared at me, his thick, black eyebrows lowering over his eyes. “Sweet fruit nectar? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“If you had read the entry in the encyclopedia, instead of trying to charm the librarian into going out with you, you’d know that wishing them sweet nectar is like wishing a human prosperity.”
Martin harrumphed, continuing to glower at me. “Well, if you were so allfired polite, why did he run off?”
I had to admit that I didn’t know, which didn’t help matters. We started walking slowly across the field, trying to make eye contact with another Erintie.
We had made it perhaps halfway across the meadow when we heard a melodious voice behind us. “Greetings. How may I be of service?”
I do not startle easily, but I literally jumped. Quickly, I turned, only to find an older Erintie a few feet behind us. He bobbed his head towards me.
“You are not human, but you were speaking English. I speak English. How may I be of service?”
I took a deep breath, still wondering how this old Erintie had managed to get so close without my being aware of his presence. “We were hoping to be of service to you. One of your kind was killed. We are assisting in the investigation.”
“Let us begin with a name. Wheelau. That was the name of the individual of whom you speak. I am Hooth. You are?”
“I am Victor. This is Martin.”
Again, his head bobbed. “You are official?”
“We are working with the police, yes.”
“I see. What do you wish to know?”
“We wanted to know if you are aware of anyone, of any species, who might have wanted Wheelau dead.”
His mouth open wide, Hooth took a deep draught of air that made a distant rattling noise down in the depths of his throat. “Those are harsh words, but… it was a harsh act. And you do not know our thoughts on these matters.”
Obviously, I had run into an Erintie taboo. “I’m sorry if I said something offensive.”
Slowly, the air came back out, almost like a sigh. “We must make allowances, you and I, for we come from different cultures.”
Clearly, I was making a terrible mess of the whole thing. I was glad that Pete wasn’t able to see his two “experts” at that moment. “How should I ask the questions I need to ask?”
Hooth bent his neck so as to focus his two eyes more closely on my one. “We will continue to use the English words. They are more blunt, more heartless, but the alternative would be to teach you our language and some of our philosophy. That would take too long. It took me years to master English. I am sure you found the same to be true, even with your more versatile vocal system. Suffice it to say that, like some humans, we find it… impolite to speak of those who have passed on in an untimely manner. In this case, however, I acknowledge the necessity.”
“How would you handle this among your own people?” Martin asked.
“With great difficulty,” Hooth acknowledged. “That is why I will use the English words. We will try. We will see what happens. It will be an experiment. Any anguish I bring upon myself by doing so will not reflect on you.”
“What can you tell us?” I asked.
“Wheelau was universally well-regarded, both among our people and among humans. There is no individual, of either species, or of any other, who I think would want him… dead.” His mouth crinkled. “There, I said the word again. Nothing ill happened. We will continue the experiment. Wheelau had many friends. In fact, he was so good at having friends that we made it his job, so to speak. He was a message carrier. One person would tell him something, then he would go and tell another. Doing so gave him a chance to see both individuals. He enjoyed this. So did those he spoke with. He carried news among the Erintie, among the humans, and between the Erintie and the humans. He never embellished, never forgot, never failed to deliver the messages. He will be missed.”
Martin asked, “Why couldn’t someone just tell the other person themselves? Why have Wheelau carry the message?”
“But the message wasn’t from the first person, you see, it was about the first person, and Wheelau would make certain that all knew about the person.”
“Knew what kind of things about them?”
“Good things, bad things, large things, small things. Life is full of news others want to know. It was Wheelau s function to tell them.”