Dark Matters_ Shadow of Heaven (Book 3) - Christie Golden [31]
The villagers gathered, milling about aimlessly, waiting for the guests of honor. Finally, Paris thought he heard a faint booming noise. Distant thunder?
Yurula's eyes lit up and she turned to embrace her partner. "The drums! They are coming!"
Sure enough, the drumbeats increased in volume. The Sumar-ka began making music of their own, beating their drums to guide the traders in the right direction. Even Paris was caught up in the power of the rhythm and felt excitement and anticipation rising in him.
The sound grew closer, and now he could make out shapes in the distance, just beyond the ring of the firelight. The Sumar-ka drumming ceased, and after three strong beats, so did that of the traders.
One of them stepped forward, a man in his middle years. Tom saw many of the villagers smiling; they obviously knew this man. He said something that was completely unintelligible to the human, and Paris was disappointed. Of course. The Sumar-ka had taken the time to learn his language. These Strangers-and he
had to laugh to himself when he realized he was thinking of them in those terms-had not yet had the chance. There was a lot he was going to be left out of tonight.
He felt rather than saw someone step next to him, and glanced down to see Yurula. "I will translate for you," she said, smiling at him.
The head Stranger began to speak. "The man is Wey-mar, and this opening is a traditional speech," said Yurula. "He says, 'We are the Traveling People. We go from village to village, spreading the joys of the Crafters throughout We ask for permission from your Culil to approach, and receive the gift given us from the Culil of the village of Nagar-tem.' "
Trima spoke in her own tongue, and again Yurula translated. " 'I am Trima, Culil of the village of Sumar-ka.' " Tom couldn't understand the words, but he was watching everyone closely and didn't miss the reaction of the Traveling People to seeing Trima, not Matroci. Their faces grew terribly sad. " 'Approach, and show me your offering.'"
Weymar did so, extending a small carved statuette. Murmurs of approval went through the crowd. Tom couldn't see it clearly but it looked pretty ugly to him. Yurula chuckled at his expression.
"It's a very good gift," she explained. "It is a representation of a Way-Walker. They walk between the worlds, between our world and that of the Crafters. A depiction of a Way-Walker is said to ward off harm to the village it guards. We already have several, but the more, the better." She paused, and added softly, "Perhaps this one will be more effective in his duties. There has been harm enough done here."
Paris nodded his comprehension and sympathy.
Trima accepted the gift and held it high over her head for her people to see. She spoke clearly, in the fluid language that was the Culilann's native tongue.
" 'We accept the gift of the Culil of Nagar-tem,' " translated Yurula. " 'We accept that these Strangers are clean of illness, are pleasing to the Crafters, and bring no darkness with them. Welcome, then, to the village of Sumar-ka.'"
Trima embraced each of the traders in turn, after which they happily came forward to greet old friends. Their blue eyes kept wandering to Paris, and he knew he was an object of great interest. He worried about the language barrier, but laughter, food, and drink did not require words to be understood, and after a while he found that he was enjoying himself. Tomorrow, Yurula told him, all the fine crafts would be on display. The traders would have things that the Sumar-ka wanted, and after another feast tomorrow night the Traveling People would be on their way to another village.
Paris briefly thought that that was a pretty damned good life. You brought stuff that made people happy, got in exchange things that made you happy, and ate like a king for two nights in a row. No, it was not a bad job