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begin the ‘team-building’ process which is so important to Cygnians.”
    “Mm-hm,” I replied with deep sarcasm.
    Dr. Mar, like any urbanite, was sufficiently cultured to tune her natural enthusiasm
     to a volume and frequency that would be appreciated by her new colleague, which is
     to say they seemed tohave a fair rapport at the end of the first two hours. Still, I was fairly impressed
     the following week when we got out at one destination a little ahead of the others
     and we distinctly heard
singing
, loud, full-on opera singing, coming from the second groundcar. Of course, by the
     time the car stopped and the doors opened, there was only mild professional chatter
     between the two.
    I looked at Dllenahkh in shock. He merely raised his eyebrows in a way that was as
     good as an
I told you so
.
    “How did you pull this off?” I demanded when the others were out of earshot.
    “Pull what off?” he asked coolly, his tone mildly mocking the colloquialism.
    “How did you know they’d click? That requires a level of intuition that seems to me
     unlikely to reside in the methodical Sadiri mind.”
    “I extrapolated from what I knew of Dr. Lanuri’s late wife. She was very similar in
     both manner and appearance to Dr. Mar. Lanuri has found it … difficult since his wife’s
     death. I had hoped that he might find solace in Dr. Mar’s company and, let me admit
     it, perhaps even consider the possibility of marrying again.”
    On another day that might have meant more teasing about being a matchmaker, but today
     I was in a grumpy mood.
    “So even Sadiri men find women interchangeable,” I scoffed under my breath.
    “That is not what I said,” he murmured, looking at me oddly.
    I waved my hand, trying to brush away the words. “Forgive me. I was thinking of something
     else, something irrelevant. So the second spouse is often very close in temperament
     and appearance to the first spouse.”
    “Yes. The first bond is, in a way, never completely broken and constantly seeks the
     absent partner. Marrying someone similar assuages some of the shock and helps with
     the grieving process.”
    “Some people think widowed Sadiri pine away and die,” I remarked, referring to a common
     trope in Cygnian literature and drama.
    “That would be inappropriate,” Dllenahkh said, infusing the word with a measure of
     distaste that was new. “There are degrees of depth of bond. All Sadiri experience
     a bond with each other, and there are rituals that deepen the connection, the marriage
     ceremony being but one. However, one can be telepathically connected to one with whom
     it is difficult to live peaceably. The ability to know another’s mind does not preclude
     the likelihood of misunderstanding it.”
    “Good point,” I said. Unsaid but also understood was that no Sadiri would take the
     selfish luxury of choosing death as a way to escape emotional pain. All were bereaved,
     and now life was the priority.
    The following week’s inspections were routine. Dr. Lanuri looked slightly less depressed,
     and Freyda was cheerful and professional as always. It wasn’t much to go on. I caught
     Dllenahkh frowning to himself.
    “They’ve only just met,” I told him. “Did you really expect love at first sight?”
    “Hmm,” he replied. “Has Dr. Mar given any indication …?” He was unable to finish the
     sentence, but I realized what he was asking.
    I was aghast—only slightly aghast, really, but I played it up because there are so
     few times when Dllenahkh is anything but the consummate Sadiri savant. “I can’t believe
     you asked me that. That’s rude even by Cygnian standards.”
    He frowned some more and dropped the subject.
    But I did find out. Not by asking—I’m not that inquisitive—but by alcohol, and not
     even
my
alcohol, so it really wasn’t my fault. The last day of our inspections together,
     Freyda showed me abottle of some fortified Cygnian vintage hidden in her knapsack. We got a