“That I will do.” In spite of the Deyzara’s accommodating tone, Jemunu-jah could see that the newcomer was himself something less than overly enthusiastic about the assignment. No Deyzara would be keen on the idea of being forced to work in tight, isolated quarters for an indeterminate period of time with a surly Sakuntala warrior. On the other hand, when there was good money to be made, a Deyzara would endure almost anything.
One last time, Jemunu-jah thought briefly about turning down the task. Since Kenkeru-jah had already promised his services, to refuse would be to insult his chief as well as bring shame on his clan. Accepting meant money and mula. When a difficult situation presents itself, he knew, it is sometimes useful to have no choice.
“Since this an emergency, I can of course leave immediately.” He felt like a hypocrite, but mula was mula. If he was going to have to suffer, he was going to wring every bit of gain from the arrangement.
“I have already seen to the provisioning of the assigned vehicle,” Masurathoo informed them both. “We can be on our way as soon as you wish.”
The mournful eyes that humans seemed to find so—what was the word he had once heard used?—“winsome” stared up at him. When the pilot’s speaking trunk was not in use, compact muscles kept it coiled flat atop his head. The eating trunk swung lazily back and forth from the lower portion of the skull, its naked hairlessness a distasteful sight at best. He would have to get used to it, he knew, for as long as it took to locate the stupid missing human and bring him back. Or to admit defeat. Given the extent of the region to be searched, the latter was a very real possibility.