The Garden - Melissa Scott [39]
Night-Whispers moved closer, gave the stiff-necked Kirse nod. "It was."
Revek nodded. "By the time the Kirse sent Tree-keeper to see what kind of a mess I'd made of their irri'a'a orchard-"
Night-Whispers made a soft whistling noise, and Janeway glanced at him, startled. Revek grimaced. "Night-Whispers hates my accent."
"I think it's funny," Night-Whispers corrected, and Janeway realized that the sound she heard had been laughter.
"Anyway!" Revek shook his head, but the gesture hid laughter of his own. "I wasn't in great shape after the crash-the automed did its best, but it had been damaged, too. Still, that kept me from foraging, which intrigued Treekeeper enough to bring me back here to see if I was person or animal. To make a long story short, I've been here ever since."
He was making a long story very short, Janeway thought, and leaving out most of the interesting bits. It would be nice to know just how long it had taken him to figure out Kirse society, and how he had gotten to be on such good terms with them. "How long have you been here?"
Revek shrugged again. "Let's see, fourteen seasons, that's a little under four local years-three standard Earth years, give or take a few thousand hours."
Janeway nodded, hiding the suspicion that flared at his words. A human being, a member of the Maquis, out of touch with the rest of his species, with a cause that he'd been willing to die for-surely, she thought, surely he sh ould have asked about the war before this. Her eyes strayed to Night-Whispers, still listening, though at least part of his attention seemed to have been diverted by the group around the table. Or maybe he didn't want to ask with one of the Kirse
listening? It was hard to tell, harder still to know what could be safely asked.
"Captain?"
That was Kim's voice, and Janeway turned to find the young ensign at her elbow. He held out a small plate-gold in color, Janeway thought, and very possibly gold in substance-that he had loaded with both sliced fruit and some kind of pastry. "I thought you might like something while you were talking."
"Thank you, Mr. Kim." Janeway accepted the plate, guiltily glad of the gift. She took a cautious bite of the pastry, and her mouth filled with flaky crust and the warm, garlic-tinged filling.
"Believe it or not," Revek said, "that cheese comes from a tree-I don't know if you would have seen it, it's a tall evergreen, with red-tipped fronds. The sap gets rendered down into a curd."
"It's very good," Janeway said, her wariness momentarily banished by the taste of the food. She finished the pastry in two more bites, and looked up, mildly embarrassed by her sudden hunger, to see both Night-Whispers and Adamant regarding her with distinct approval.
"Eating is one of the Kirse's major forms of communication," Revek said. "You might even think of it as a kind of communion. It's the high point of the whole act of hospitality, and that's the central point of the culture."
Adamant, who had wandered over with Kim, nodded in thoughtful agreement. Janeway picked up a piece of the fruit, took a careful bite, hoping to buy time. The explosion of flavor-melon, honey, perhaps a touch of mint-almost drove that intent out of her mind, but she forced aside the pleasure. Revek was plausible enough, but she couldn't help wondering why he was telling her so much, and how much of
it was provided by the Kirse themselves-and indeed what Revek's relationship was to the aliens around them.
"You're wondering why I'm telling you this," Revek said.
Janeway nodded.
Revek nodded toward Adamant, who was looking away again, his attention visibly elsewhere. "Frankly, they asked me to. They're interested in trading, and it's not often they have