The Inheritors - A. Bertram Chandler [21]
He asked, "How do your people cross the seas, Maya? You said that all the machines, including the flying machines, had broken down years ago."
"There are machines and machines, Commander Grimes. We have the wind, and we have balloons, and we have sailing boats. The balloons can go only with the wind, of course, but the sailing boats—what is the expression?—can beat to windward . . . ." Then she said abruptly, "I am a poor hostess. You must be thirsty . . . ."
Not as thirsty as you must be, thought Grimes, after gorging yourself on that horrid mixture.
"I could use a drink, Maya," said Maggie.
The Morrowvian woman went to the shelved cupboard where pottery, brightly and pleasingly glazed, was stacked. She took out six shallow bowls, set them on the table. Then she took down a stoppered pitcher that was hanging on the wall. This was not glazed, and its porous sides were bedewed with moisture. She poured from this into three of the bowls. The remaining vessels she filled with food from a deep dish that she extracted from the depths of a primitive refrigerator, a large unglazed earthenware box standing in a small bath of water. She used her hands to transfer cubes of white flesh from the dish to the bowls. There was no sign of any knives, forks or spoons.
She lifted her bowl of water to her mouth. She grinned and said "Here's mud in your eye!" She lapped the liquid, a little noisily. Grimes and Maggie drank more conventionally. The water was pleasantly cool, had a faint vegetable tang to it. Probably it was safe enough—but, in any case, all of Seeker's people had been given wide spectrum antibiotic shots before landing.
Maya, using one hand only, quite delicately helped herself to food from her bowl. Without hesitation Maggie followed suit. Her fine eyebrows arched in surprised appreciation. Grimes took a cautious sample. This, he decided after the first nibble, was good. It reminded him of a dish that he had enjoyed during his last leave on Earth, part of which he had spent in Mexico. This had been fish—raw, but seasoned, and marinaded in the juice of freshly squeezed limes. He would have liked some more, but it would be a long time, he feared, before he would be able properly to relax and enjoy whatever social amenities this planet afforded.
Maggie, having followed Maya's example in licking her hands clean, had unslung one of her cameras, was pointing it at the map. She explained, "We have to have a copy of this, so that we can find our way to Melbourne."
"It will not be necessary. I can send a Messenger with you. But I warn you, it is a long journey, unless you go in your ship."
"We shall not go in the ship, Maya," Grimes told her. "But we shall not be walking, either. We shall use a pinnace, a relatively small flying boat."
"I have never flown," said Maya wistfully. "Not even in a balloon. Do you think that I . . . ?"
"Why not?" said Grimes. Why not? he thought. She'll be able to introduce me to her sister queen in Melbourne.
"When do we leave?" she asked him.
"In the morning, as soon after sunrise as possible." That would be a good time; Melbourne was only a degree or so west of Cambridge. The flight would be made in daylight, and arrival would be well before sunset.
She said, "You will excuse me. I must make arrangements for my deputy to run affairs during my absence."
"I must do likewise," said Grimes.
They looked at each other gravely, both monarchs of a small kingdom, both with the cares of state heavy on their shoulders. It was unkind of Maggie to spoil the effect by snickering.
"I shall send an escort with you," said Maya.
"It