She thought she might ask that question of Aniolo-jat, who was nothing if not responsive to questions. But he was not nearby and she was very tired. She decided she would ask it of him tomorrow.
If she remembered.
4
It was raining more heavily when Jemunu-jah and the Deyzara Masurathoo left the office of the Hata Lauren Matthias. A few humans, huddled against the rain and looking characteristically miserable, passed them on their way to the Administration Center. Jemunu-jah observed them pityingly. Their bodies shed water and they swam well, so why did they always look so unhappy? A human acquaintance had once said something to him about “eternal leaden skies, perpetual damp, and depressing gloom.” It made no sense. The rain brought life. It kept the water high, forcing wandering predators to swim instead of run. It refreshed and cleansed.
At least the Deyzara were more stolid in their acceptance of Fluva’s climate. Not that they had much choice, being permanent residents. They had long since made their peace with the unremitting rain. Glancing to his left, he watched his unwanted new companion’s eating trunk flop loosely against the smooth lower portion of the skull as its owner tugged his wide-brimmed rain hat tighter down on his naked pate. How did this Masurathoo feel about his adoptive home world and its native inhabitants? When they were cooped up together in a small skimmer Jemunu-jah knew he was likely to find out.
Protruding beneath the hat, the speaking trunk uncoiled from the top of the Deyzara’s head. “Please excuse me for pointing it out, but I can tell that you are not very personally pleased with this arrangement, though it shall prove financially and professionally advantageous to us both, I think.”