Masurathoo felt that his credulity was on trial. “I beg to point out, Hasa, that such mimicry can be accomplished by many different species from a number of worlds that are not classified as intelligent.”
“I’m sure it can be, but how many brainless mimics would rise to the defense of visitors in peril?” he argued.
“I still think coincidence.” Jemunu-jah was not swayed.
“Still could be,” Hasa admitted. Rising, he brushed debris from his rain cape. “So let’s put it to the test. If the pannula did intentionally save us from the mokusinga, then it has our best interests at heart—even though it doesn’t have one itself. If it is intelligent, then our little sojourn here may represent the first formal contact between it and my species. Whether it wants anything to do with either of your kind remains to be seen.”
“You flatter yourself unreasonably.” Masurathoo found himself unable to take the continuing veiled insults any longer without articulating a response.
“We’ll see.” Hefting his pack and swinging it up onto his back, Hasa started back the way they had come.
“That is the wrong direction,” Jemunu-jah reminded him.
“I know.” Having paused and turned around, Hasa was grinning more broadly than ever. “So I’ve been told.”
Jemunu-jah blinked eagle eyes. “Heesa; I just told it to you.”
“Not just you.” Raising an arm, the human gestured. “Look.”
Sakuntala and Deyzara turned. Every one of the black tendrils that had previously been standing erect and weaving slightly from side to side was now lying flat with its tip pointing due north.