Pathways - Jeri Taylor [75]
“Does she talk?” roared one of the younger men, producing a fierce howl of laughter from everyone—including her mother, a fact that made her feel as though an icy dagger had pierced her heart. Here, as on Nessik, she was alone and friendless, an object of scorn and ridicule, with no one to take her side. So she was surprised when the gray-haired woman spoke again.
“She’s been traveling for a week, you lummoxes. She’s tired and hungry. Make way while I get her some food.” This, she was to learn, was her grandmother, B’Kor, who pushed her way through toward B’Elanna and grabbed her with a strong hand and led her through the group—which did have the good grace to part and not make her fight her way through—to a room where a huge table stood, laden with more food than B’Elanna had ever seen in her life.
“Here, little be’Hom, I’ll make you a plate. We’ll get you fattened up in no time.” B’Kor was pulling morsels of food from the vast array, most of which was unfamiliar to B’Elanna. A few dishes she recognized as those her mother had made, but most were an exotic array of roasted meats, strange vegetables, runny cheeses, and—to her dismay— dishes of creatures who seemed still to be moving.
B’Kor had piled her plate until food was dropping off the edges, and she put it in B’Elanna’s hands with a huge smile that showed her twisted Klingon teeth to full advantage. “When you’re done with that I’ll cut a big slab of blood pie. You’ve never tasted better.”
When I’m done with that I’ll be dead, thought B’Elanna as she eyed the huge platter with some apprehension. She’d never seen that much food on a plate before. She couldn’t possibly get it all in her stomach. She felt arms on her shoulders propelling her into yet another room, this one full of trestle tables and benches, and she realized she was to take a seat and begin gorging on this massive plate of food.
She sat and tried to distinguish the various edibles before her. She was disconcerted that one pile of yellow mealy things seemed to be squirming, and tried to cover them with a piece of dark bread. Other young people then began to join her in the room, which she soon realized was designated for the children. There were boys and girls of all ages, from toddlers to adolescents, all with unfettered energy and high spirits. And loud voices.
A boy that she judged to be about five years older than she sat opposite her, his plate piled even higher than hers. He had dark, flashing eyes and a smile that would have been attractive if it hadn’t been for his teeth. “Be sure you try the blood pie. Aunt B’Kor makes it better than anyone in the family.”
“Not so, you QIp. My mother Toksa’s is far better.” This was from a girl just about B’Elanna’s age who sat down next to her. The benches were filling fast with noisy young people, and B’Elanna strained to tune in to the two near her.
“I’m K’Karn, your second cousin,” said the boy. “This deluded child is my first cousin, Lanna. When she’s a few years older she’ll have more experience by which to judge blood pie. She’s just a stripling now.”
B’Elanna saw Lanna’s ridges flush and realized she wanted to be liked by this dashing young boy, was infatuated with him. And she could understand why; K’Karn had an air of genial confidence that was infectious. Even B’Elanna was drawn to him, but she couldn’t for the life of her think of anything to say to him. She began to pick at her food, realizing for the first time that there were no utensils. This didn’t deter the others, who were plunging into the meal with both hands, tearing meat from bones and licking greasy fingers with gusto.
She chewed a few pieces of bread as she listened to K’Karn and Lanna banter back and forth. K’Karn was describing his latest exploits in mock battle, his preparations for the Ascension rites. Lanna seemed enthralled, asking him questions, urging him on. But finally he turned again