Jathong looked at him incredulously, as if Eckert had asked him if Pendleton had had two heads.
"That would have been impossible. None of our women would have—could have—been in love with menshar Pendleton."
One line of inquiry just gone phht, Eckert thought. But Pendleton wasn't one to let a broken heart get him down anyway.
"Why not?" Templin cut in harshly. "He wasn't hard to look at and he would have made a good husband."
Jathong diplomatically turned around to face Templin. "I have told you once—Pendleton was kava. It would have been quite impossible."
The answer to what had happened to Pendleton probably lay in Jathong's inability to explain his own terms, Eckert believed. One could get just so close, and then the definitions became vague and useless.
He asked a few more questions and finally dismissed Jathong. The interview, like all the others he and Templin had held during the last week, had been worthless. They knew nothing more than they had when they landed.
"I still think they're lying," Templin said almost savagely. "Or perhaps the ones who really know something haven't come around."