Gateways 07_ What Lay Beyond - Diane Carey [104]
“My travels have taken me in all directions,” he answered a moment later.
Hamish laughed once more and stepped closer to Picard, who noticed the stench of dried sweat. “As I expected. Young Gods on their ordeal must have traveled the world to gain their granita.” Picard couldn’t even begin to imagine what a granita implied but being called a young god set off internal warning bells. He’d been mistaken for a god once before by a low-tech culture, and it was not an experience he was eager to relive for his sake, or for the sake of these good people.
Several other old men approached Hamish and they clustered, whispering back and forth. Picard took the opportunity to study more of the village and its inhabitants. Everyone seemed healthy, well fed, and protected. However they developed, he knew his presence must not change that status quo. He seemed not to frighten the children, which pleased him. While he might be uncomfortable around them, he never wanted to chase them away. Many stayed close to adults, family members most likely, and just studied him, as he studied them. A few smiled, while most kept their opinions to themselves.
“Picard,” Hamish called, regaining the captain’s attention. “If you seek things closer to our ceremonial welcome tools, then we think you must travel to the City. It is but three days’ walk from here, and must be part of your path. It is filled with many unknown things and it may hold your heart’s desire.”
Poetic, he mused, but accurate. There was nothing he wanted more than to find the Resonator and return to the Enterprise. He sniffed and then realized there was one more thing he desired: dinner.
“Very well,” he said. “I shall start at sunrise if you would be so kind as to provide me with directions.”
Hamish smiled and began walking toward the fire. The other men followed and slowly the other members of the village began to head for the center. Most talked and laughed among themselves, and Picard seemed uncertain of what he might have missed.
“Come, Picard,” he called as he stopped before the huge pit, where some animal roasted on a spit. “Even gods must eat, eh? You’ll eat and sleep and eat once more, then begin the final part of your journey.”
With that, the elder turned to the fire, grabbed a long metallic item, and poked roughly at the meat. It hissed as juices dribbled from the scored carcass into the flames. Children had gathered up plates that seemed formed from clay, along with short, wide cups. They walked past the fire and to long tables, setting places as they passed. A few sang a song he was too far away to translate but he found the melody pleasing.
Three men hefted the meat off the fire and carried it to a small hut, where the meat was swiftly carved and placed on a large earthen slab, the color of rust. They, too, joked among themselves, ignoring Picard, who just watched.
Finally, a girl left her mother’s side and walked over to the captain and looked up at him. He estimated her age to be five or six, but she was already tall compared with human children. Her hair was past her shoulders but nowhere near as long as the mature women in the group. Unlike the women, her belt was not stuffed with tools but with a round plastic item and some bright stones. With a hand gesture, she indicated he was to follow her and happily he did. There was no awe in her, as if young gods visited the villages regularly. He wouldn’t ask her, not before they ate, and he wasn’t sure if he should. This might be one of those times ignorance was bliss and there was less likelihood of crossing the Prime Directive.
She led him to the smallest of the tables, where the older women already sat. He was placed between two whose hair had long since stopped shining in the sun but showed age. They seemed pleased to have him with them, so he smiled and nodded to them all.
“Picard is it?” the woman to his right asked.
“Yes,” he answered.
“From the west are you?”