“I know.” He spoke aloud in reply to his own unasked question. “The flowers have a bad taste. Probably concentrates ammonia or something in the leaves.”
“Not bitter.” Standing in the rain to one side of the eruption of efflorescence, Jemunu-jah once more wielded the small flare tool he had employed earlier to remove the tickling kaema from Masurathoo’s back. Stretching out his arm, he drew the blue light of the versatile cutting tool across one huge bloom, leaving several cuts in half a dozen petals.
Human and Deyzara both tensed, but nothing happened. After a respectful pause, a mystified Hasa stepped forward to inspect the damage. A pale liquid the color and consistency of honey oozed from the multiple cuts. It was thick enough to maintain its texture in the rain.
He leaned closer. Jemunu-jah had assured them nothing about the vatulalilu was toxic. Could it be corrosive? Extending one tentative finger toward the thick goo, he half expected the Sakuntala to warn him off. Instead, Jemunu-jah continued to stand off to one side, watching silently. A suspicious Hasa drew his hand back anyway. At that point, he caught his first full whiff of the golden ooze.
He retched so violently that he fell backward. Only reflexes honed from years of exploring the most inhospitable reaches of alien worlds allowed him to grab onto a couple of branches and keep from falling into the water below. Eyes wide, he continued to vomit with such vehemence that he felt like his stomach was going to rise right up through his throat and burst out his mouth.