Eckert rolled up the thin, slatted blinds and stared out at the
scenery. A hundred feet down the road, a native woman was going to
market, leading a species of food animal by the halter.
"They grow their women nice, don't they?"
"Physically perfect, like the men," Templin grumbled. "You could get an
inferiority complex just from watching the people here. Everybody's so
damn perfect. Nobody's sick, nobody's unhealthy, nobody is too fat or
too thin, nobody's unhappy. The only variation is that they don't all
look alike. Perfection. It gets boring after a while."
"Does it? I hadn't noticed." Eckert turned away from the blinds. His
voice was crisp. "I knew Don Pendleton quite well, too," he said. "But
it isn't blinding me to what I'm here for. We came to find out what
happened to him, not to substantiate any preconceived notions. What
we find out may be vitally important to anybody serving here in the
future. I would hate to see our efforts spoiled because you've already
made up your mind."
"You knew Pendleton," Templin repeated grimly. "Do you think it was
suicide?"
"I don't think there's such a thing as a suicide type, when you come
down to it. I'm not ruling out the possibility of murder, either. I'm
trying to keep an open mind."
"What have we accomplished so far? What have we found out?"
"We've got six months," Eckert said quietly. "Six months in which
we'll try to live here inconspicuously and study the people and try to
cultivate informants. We would get nowhere if we came barging in asking
all sorts of questions. And don't forget, Ray, we're all alone on
Tunpesh. If it is a case of murder, what happens when the natives find
out that we know it is?"
Templin's eyes dueled for a moment. Then he turned his back and walked
to the window. "I suppose you're right," he said at last. "It's nice
living here, Ted. Maybe I've been fighting it. But I can't help
thinking that Don must have liked it here, too."
* * * * *
One of the hardest things to learn in a foreign culture, Eckert
thought, is when to enjoy yourself, when to work and when to worry.
"_Pelache, menshar?_"
"_Sharra!_" He took the small bowl of _pelache_ nuts, helped himself
to a few, and passed the bowl on. This was definitely the time to
enjoy himself, not to work or worry. He had heard about the _halera_ a
few days ago, and, by judicious hinting to the proper authorities, he
and Templin had been invited. It was a good chance to observe native
customs. A little anthropology--with refreshments.
The main courses started making the rounds and he took generous
helpings of the roasted _ulami_ and the broiled _halunch_ and numerous
dabs from the side dishes of steaming vegetables. Between every course,
they passed around a small flagon of the hot, spiced native wine, but
he noticed that nobody drank to excess.
_The old Greek ideal_, he thought: _moderation in everything._
He looked at Templin, sitting across from him in the huge circle, and
shrugged mentally. Templin looked as if he was about to break down and
enjoy himself, but there was still a slight bulge under his tunic,
where he had strapped his power pack. Any fool should have known that
nothing would happen at a banquet like this. The only actual danger lay
in Templin's getting excited and doing something he was bound to regret
later on. And even that danger was not quite as likely now.
_There will be hell to pay_, Eckert thought, _if Templin ever finds out
that I sabotaged his power pack._
"You look thoughtful, _menshar_ Eckert."
Eckert took another sip of the wine and turned to the Tunpeshan on his
left. He was a tall, muscular man with sharp eyes, a firm chin and a
certain aura of authority.
"I was wondering if my countryman Pendleton had offended your people in
any way, Nayova." Now was as good a time as any to pump him for what he
knew about Pendleton's death.
"So far as I know, _menshar_ Pendleton offended no one. I do not know
what duties he had to perform here, but he was a generous and courteous
man."
Eckert gnawed the dainty meat off a slender _ulami_ bone and tried to
appear casual in his questioning.
"I am sure he was, Nayova. I am sure, too, that you were as kind to him
as you have been to Templin and myself. My Government is grateful to
you for that."
Nayova seemed pleased. "We tried to do as well for _menshar_ Pendleton
as we could. While he was here, he had the house that you have now and
we saw that he was supplied with food and all other necessities."
Eckert had a sudden clammy feeling which quickly passed away. What
Nayova had said was something he'd make sure Templin never heard about.
He wiped his mouth on a broad, flat leaf that had been provided and
took another sip of the wine.
"We were shocked to find out that _menshar_ Pendleton had killed
himself. We knew him quite well and we could not bring ourselves to
believe he had done such a thing."
Nayova's gaze slid away from him. "Perhaps it was the will of the Great
One," he said vaguely. He didn't seem anxious to talk about it.
Eckert stared bleakly at his wine glass and tried to put the pieces of
information together. They probably had a taboo about self-destruction
which would make it difficult to talk about. That would make it even
harder for him to find out by direct questioning.
A native fife trilled shrilly and a group of young men and women walked
into the room. The circle broke to let them through and they came and
knelt before Nayova. When he clapped his hands sharply, they retreated
to the center of the circle and began the slow motions of a native
dance.
The sound of the fife softened and died and the slow monotonous beat of
drums took its place. The beat slowly increased and so did the rhythm
of the dancers. The small fires at the corners of the hut were allowed
to dwindle and the center of the circle became filled with the motions
of shadows intermixed with the swift, sure movements of glistening
limbs. Eckert felt his eyebrows crawl upward. Apparently the dance was
the Tunpeshan version of the _rites de passage_. He glanced across
the circle at Templin. Templin's face--what he could see of it by the
flickering light--was brick red.
A voice spoke in his ear. "It is hard for us to imagine anybody doing
what _menshar_ Pendleton did. It is ..." and he used a native word that
Eckert translated as being roughly equivalent to "_obscene_."
The dancers at the center of the circle finally bowed out with small
garlands of flowers on their heads that signified their reaching
adulthood. Acrobats then took the stage and went through a dizzying
routine, and they in turn were succeeded by a native singer.
They were all excellent, Eckert thought. If anything, they were too
good.
The bowl of _pelache_ nuts made its way around again and Nayova leaned
over to speak to him. "If there is any possibility that I can help you
while you are here, _menshar_ Eckert, you have but to ask."
It would probably be a mistake to ask for a list of Pendleton's
friends, but there was a way around that. "I would like to meet any
of your people who had dealings with Pendleton, either in business or
socially. I will do everything not to inconvenience them in any way."
"I think they would be glad to help you. I shall ask them to go to you
this coming week."
* * * * *
It wasn't a driving rain, just a gentle drizzle that made the lanes
muddy and plastered Eckert's tunic against him. He didn't mind it; the
rain was warm and the trees and grass smelled good in the wet.
"How would you classify the culture after seeing the ceremony, Ted?"
Templin asked.
"About what you would expect. An Apollonian culture, simple and
dignified. Nothing in excess, no striving for great emotional release."
Templin nodded soberly. "It grows on you, doesn't it? You find yourself
getting to like the place. And I suppose that's dangerous, too. You
tend to let your guard down, the way Pendleton must have. You--what was
that?"
Eckert tensed. There was a gentle padding in the mud, several hundred
feet behind them. Templin flattened himself in the shadows alongside
a house. His hand darted inside his tunic and came out with the slim
deadliness of a needle gun.
"Don't use it!" Eckert whispered tersely.