Part 46 (2/2)
”I want you to let me break this phylum leader.”
”Break him? How?”
”You any idea how important the mystique of the arm is to the Palenki?”
”Some idea. Why?”
”Some idea,” McKie muttered. ”Back in the primitive days, Palenkis made criminals eat their arms, then inhibited regrowth. Much loss of face, but even greater injury to something very deep and emotional for the Palenkis.”
”You're not seriously suggesting . . .”
”Of course not!”
Bildoon shuddered. ”You humans have a basically bloodthirsty nature. Sometimes I think we don't understand you.”
”Where's this Palenki?” McKie asked.
”What're you going to do?”
”Question him! What'd you think?”
”After what you just said, I wasn't sure.”
”Come off that, Bildoon. Hey, you!” McKie gestured to a Wreave enforcer lieutenant. ”Bring the Palenki in here.”
The enforcer glanced at Bildoon.
”Do as he says,” Bildoon said.
The enforcer looped his mandibles uncertainly but turned and left the room, signaling half a squad to attend him.
Ten minutes later the Palenki phylum leader was herded into Bildoon's office. McKie recognized the snake-weaving pattern on the Palenki's carapace, nodded to himself: s.h.i.+psong Phylum, all right. Now that he saw it, he made the identification himself.
The Palenki's multiple legs winked to a stop in front of McKie. The turtle face turned toward him expectantly. ”Will you truly make me eat my arm?” it asked.
McKie glanced accusingly at the Wreave lieutenant.
”It asked what kind of human you were,” the Wreave explained.
”I'm glad you rendered such an accurate description,” McKie said. He faced the Palenki. ”What do you think?”
”I think not possible, Ser McKie. Sentients no longer permit such barbarities.” The turtle mouth rendered the words without emotion, but the arm dangling to the right from its headtop juncture writhed with uncertainty.
”I may do something worse,” McKie said.
”What is worse?” the Palenki asked.
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