I gave up my luncheon with Gleda; as much as I should have liked to split a five prot pony steak with her. Instead of the Palace, I went to the library. The public library. And read about Venerians. What I found out was interesting—and a little frightening, too. They were trisexual symbiotes. And they were only remotely humanoid.
There were very few of them on Terra—mainly because they relished their own planet's formaldehyde atmosphere so much they were extremely reluctant to leave it. When they did, ... and this really interested me—they generally became very wealthy as entertainers. They were accomplished musicians and—of all things—tumblers.
For reasons that were only hinted at in the staid Encyclopedia Terrestria, Venerians never entertained through the mass media such as the Livies or TV. Their stuff was limited to small, elite gatherings and it cost plenty.
I thought of Gleda Warick and the party she was planning for later in the week. She'd asked me to be alert for some good entertainment. Her friends were getting weary of games like Lizzie Borden and Clobber. Too many people getting hurt and all. Venerian tumblers and minisingers would be just the thing. And it would assure solvency on the part of my clients-to-be. Part of the Legal Eagle's Oath binds us to be concerned over our customer's finances.
The next morning, promptly at ten hundred, I was treated to the first sight of my clients. Their names didn't transliterate into anything remotely pronounceable, so they were going by the names of Vivian, Jean and Clare Jones.
After the first shock of seeing them wore off, I wrote on my pad: "Names used by humans of both genders. Significant."
They spoke English, the current lingua franca, with only a trace of a sibilant accent and they smelled of formaldehyde.
I explained their rights under our divorce laws. Did the best I could, that is, not being quite sure who was married to whom and under what conditions their marriage functioned—if at all. Finally I said, "Tell me all about it."
Clare, who seemed to be the spokesman for the group and therefore assumed, in my mind, a male gender, waved a boneless arm excitedly. "Had we known we were becoming subject to your Terrestrial laws by residing here we would never have remained. Our situation is desperate."
I wrote on my pad: "Situation desperate."