[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
stood open to the rain and the intermittent sun. This also exposed the staggering display of color to any
wandering herbivores who might hop, swim, or fly past. Yet insofar as he could tell, the closely packed
water plants had not suffered a single tear or bite mark. Despite advertising its presence with an
unsurpassed burst of color, the vatulalilu pushed its blossoms toward the sky unscathed.
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.
Observing this, the always alert Masurathoo took a couple of prudent steps backward along the branch
on which he was standing. What ails our unhappy colleague?
Ignoring the heaving human, Jemunu-jah walked back to the plant and began making measured slices on
every blossom. Honey-hued fluid promptly began to flow from each successive cut. When he was
satisfied with his destructive but measured handiwork, the Sakuntala put away the flare tool. Using his
long fingers, he began to scoop up the thick, sticky liquid and smear it strategically on his body. Every
now and then, with a look of resigned expectation, he would pause to throw up. Each time one of these
startling episodes of strenuous but measured upchucking concluded, he would resume the work.
Eventually, Hasa s digestive system had nothing more to give. Too weak to be really angry, the
prospector rose to his feet to confront the Sakuntala.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
You scrawny, underhanded excuse for an alien monkey-rat! You could havetold me the plant was
protected by an olfactory defense!
Methodically applying daubs of golden goo to his fur, the Sakuntala regarded him out of double-lidded
eyes. If I had described in detail what going to happen, would you still have been willing undergo the
experience?
Hasa started to respond, hesitated, then replied in a low murmur of grudging acceptance, Not likely.
You see? Having exhausted the supply of glistening golden stink from one flower, Jemunu-jah moved
on to the next. You need not put it on you bodies. The vatulalilu sap will stick plenty enough to your
clothing.
Masurathoo s speaking trunk hardly moved. Plenty enough for what purpose, my dear Jemunu-jah?
The scent of vatulalilu flower holds its strength even in water. Well covered in it, we can safe swim the
river that blocks our way. Water dwellers may come close to us, but nothing will bite.
I can believe it. With that stench smeared all over, I wouldn t want to come too close to me, either.
Swallowing hard while fighting to steady what remained of his stomach, Hasa clenched his lips and
advanced on the nearest spray of blindingly beautiful blossoms. Turning off his rain cape, he removed it,
folded it neatly for a second time, and stuffed it into its vacant pouch. Reaching down, he scooped up a
fingerload of the shimmering liquid and began to spread it across his chest. He promptly gagged, fought
down the automatic reaction, and continued to battle the retching reflex as he treated first his torso, then
his limbs.
Masurathoo watched until his companions were almost finished. Then he sighed softly through his
breathing trunk, moved forward to join them, and began to emulate their actions. Hasa paused in his
work, his expression one of grim expectancy. Jemunu-jah did likewise.
Manifesting supreme indifference to the vatulalilu flowers ferocious fragrance, the Deyzara blithely
smeared large fingerfuls of the potent syrupy extrusion all over his body. After several minutes, he finally
noticed the dumbfounded stares of his companions.
What? Oh, I understand. You re wondering why I am not regurgitating the remnants of my last several
meals all over the forest.
You could say that. As familiarity with the golden fluid did not breed acceptance, Hasa was still having
to fight down a constant and all but overwhelming urge to puke.
Masurathoo returned to the work at hand. That is easily explained. We Deyzara have a well-known
tolerance for strong odors. He held a double-digited handful of the goo up to the end of his breathing
trunk, a gesture sufficiently profound in its implications that it very nearly did make the queasy Hasa
throw up all over again. To me, this substance smells only slightly sweetish.
And yet, Jemunu-jah observed, there is an internal scientific logic to this. Deyzara smell so bad
naturally it not surprising they would not be bothered by essence of vatulalilu. Petal perfume would be
hard to detect over own body odor.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]