“Well, of course, but I only meant—”
“Please! All right discuss weather, extreme handsomeness of Mrs. Whitenose new husbands, unpleasant odor of Delts, sports events. Things that nature. Not thing of significance.”
Giyt sighed. “Sure,” he said. And when all the things of no significance had been used up, Mr. Brownbenttalon was satisfied. He went away, furiously clicking at the way the lesser males were doing their housekeeping.
Giyt was content to be left alone. He found talking about nothing hard work. Being abandoned in solitude wasn’t all that much better, though. It gave him time to reflect on his numerous blunders, and about what sort of unforeseen unpleasantness was likely to strike next, and most of all about the—not exactly unpleasant, but certainly worrying—fact of Rina’s pregnancy. He wondered if the excitement of the party was really good for her. There was no point in asking Rina about it, of course. She would just laugh at him. Fondly, to be sure, but still—
He heard her call his name and saw her threading her way among the busy male Centaurians toward him. She had a bamboo segment in her hand and a faintly startled, mostly amused expression on her face. One of the younger Centaurian males was tagging patiently after her. “Look at this. Shammy,” she ordered.
He took the piece of bamboo in his hand, turning it over. It seemed to be filled with some green, pith-like plant substance, but—
He yelped and almost dropped the segment. The Centaurian male darted quickly in to catch it and scuttle away. “Did you see?” Rina asked. “That little thing like a lizard in it? The cook just took it out of a cage and put it in there; now he’s going to cap it off with the lizard thing inside. And then, when it’s eaten everything, they boil up everything that’s left in the tube.”
Giyt felt his stomach go queasy. “And that’s what we’ve been eating? Lizard shit?”
“Weil, that’s one way to put it,” she admitted. “Tasted good, though, didn’t it?”
Giyt was spared answering because Mrs. Whitenose appeared. You could not say she was sprightly—that sort of step did not go with the low-slung Centaurian anatomy—but there was something self-satisfied about the way she moved.
“Thank you to wait so long,” she said. Giyt caught a glimpse of two little eyes peeping out of the fur on her back: her new husband, silent, perhaps exhausted from his recent efforts. Mrs. Whitenose added; “My mother asks you come talk a bit now. Present moment is time of feeling-good relaxation. You know saying about parties? Extraordinarily delighted see guests come, even more extraordinarily delighted see them go away again—but listen, not meaning present company, of course.”
Mrs. Brownbenttalon was lying comfortably on a mossy mound of earth, with her main husband now affectionately grooming the fur above her eyes and a lesser husband pouring little glass cups of a beverage for the guests. When Giyt took a sip he almost choked; this wasn’t the juice he’d had before. It was distilled, had to be close to a hundred proof, and not bad.
Mrs. Brownbenttalon was solicitous. “You like? This good stuff. Don’t serve at party, guests get too rotten drunk, make fights, especially stinky Slugs.”
“Also Earth-human Large Male Hagbarth,” Mrs. White-nose put in.
“Oh, yes, bad guy, Hagbarth. When he here he awful, you know? He act like he think he hot waste product. Very contemptuous of races wiser far than, excuse me, Earth humans. We do not do that way. Our practice is always judging individuals, not races, even stinky Kalkaboos,” she said grandly. “You okay Earth human, Large Male Giyt. We think.”
“Well, thank you,” Giyt said, looking around. More Centaurians were showing up as their chores were finished, lesser males and subadults, silently congregating at a respectful distance around the matriarchs to listen.
“You are welcomed. Well, what about party? Have good time? You like food?” When both the Giyts expressed admiration for the food, she bobbed her long nose in agreement. “Always good have plenty fine food. When Pentagon is full, bellies fill themselves.”
“Pentagon?”
“Sure, Pentagon. That what you Earth humans call building with five sides,” she instructed him. “Is place where us five Divinely Elected Saviors on Joint Governance Commission congregated before large-male Earth humans arrived. Much debate about what do with you guys when you dumb little machine ship arrive, you bet!” she said, cackling. All the males and children cackled too; only Mrs. Whitenose, seemingly lost in a dreamy reverie, was silent. “Then decided purpose of peace-treaty planet was to learn peace, right? Needed for survival of rest of us? Probably needed for survival with you large-male persons, too, so voted in, no dissent.”
The male on her back giggled and squealed, “Much dissent, actually.” But Mrs. Brownbenttalon reached up with her hind leg and swatted him amiably.
“Not dissent,” she corrected. “Discussion, of course. For many days—Slugs objected at first, too many vertebrates—but finally unanimous. So sent you guys portal thing so you come here.”
Giyt frowned in surprise. “You sent the portal?”
“Of course sent portal. What else?”
“But . . . Professor Sommermen . . .”
“Ah,” she said, her snout wrinkling in comprehension. “That large-male Earth-human guy—what he just do, Mrs. Whitenose?”
Addressed, her daughter roused from her fond daydream. “He die.”
“Sure, he die. Remember myth now. Like Santa Claus, you know? Like myth of non-Earth-people persons coming to Earth planet in crockery dishes, abducting Earth humans for sexual games.”
“Yuck,” said Mrs. Whitenose.
“Yes, typical Earth-human myth,” her mother said. “Bizarre but very sweet. You didn’t know?”
Giyt glanced at his wife to see how she was taking all this. Better than he was, he thought. She looked interested and amused. Doing his best to control himself, he said, “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what you’re talking about. Didn’t Dr. Sommermen invent the portal?”
“Him? Large-male Earth human? Invent portal?” She was giggling at the idea, and so were her husband and daughter. “No way! Take damn good wizardly science knowledge for building portal, you don’t have. Can’t get, either,” she added complacently, “because portal constructed so you guys can’t open up, else biggest damn bang ever. Of course, now all are most glad your people are here,” she added hospitably. “Most your people, anyway.”
“Not counting Large Male Hagbarth, we mean,” Mrs. Whitenose put in.
Giyt didn’t know what sort of expression his own face was displaying until he saw the way Rina was looking at him. She patted his shoulder. “Don’t take it so hard, hon,” she said.
It was certainly good advice. The trouble with taking it was that he was indeed hard hit. Giyt did not think of himself as a naive person. He was not startled to learn that people in power told lies.
But this lie? What was the point of it? Only out of some kind of Earthie vanity, some refusal to admit to the rest of the human race that somebody was smarter than they?
Mrs. Brownbenttalon was still talking. “You come to all-six-race confabulation talk in Hexagon when it begin,” she advised. “When people from all home planets meet here, you know? Good thing. You learn much. Also big pain, because they scoot us mayoring persons all the hell out of said place, but this cannot be helped. No Joint Governance Commission meeting possible then because place full of peace treaty people. You know Treaty of Perpetual Peace document yourself?”
“I’m afraid not,” Giyt admitted. “There’s been so much I had to catch up on.”