To Storm Heaven - Esther Friesner [36]
Not if you’re not from the mountains. And even then, if you’ve come any great way.” “No, that’s not right to say, V’kal.” Clearly Misik didn’t like to see his friend attracting all the attention, even though he was doing it so ineptly. “Word went to the Na’amOberyin the day it happened, sent by our Bilik his own self, and word came back sanctifying it not two weeks later. Wherever our vistors come from, might be their own oberyin brought them word of our great blessing. Is that what happened, friend?” Like his companion, Misik tried to address Troi, failed in short order, and wound up talking to Data.
“Undoubtedly,” Data replied.
“You know, it really would be best—more sacred, some might say—if V’kal and I were the ones to guide you there.” Misik lowered his voice, speaking in tones that were meant to be reverent and dignified but that came out sounding merely pretentious. “See, everyone in Kare’al knows that her father was V’kal’s third cousin’s brother-in-law, on his stepmother’s side.” “Really?” Riker smiled. “In that case, it would honor us if you would consent to be our guides. That is, if it wouldn’t be an imposition?” “Oh none! None at all!” Misik and V’kal were falling all over each other, like puppies, in their eagerness to impress the ladies with their gallantry.
Both spoke at once, a flood of chatter that made it impossible for the Away Team to distinguish who was saying what. “The honor’d be ours, friend. Wouldn’t it, Misik?—Oh yes, without doubt, ’kal. Bringing the first pilgrims to her shrine, but the ground up that end the village street’s rough going, it wouldn’t do to let such fine ladies venture there alone, twist an ankle.
Terrible, that’d be, eh V’kal?—Oh, not to bear thinking of, Misik!mAnd then we could escort you on to the Six Mothers, no trouble, an honor, tomorrow morning be all right?” The young men finally ran out of steam and sat there grinning. As solemnly as he could manage, Commander Riker thanked them and accepted their gracious offer.
The next morning, before daylight had banished all the last night’s shadows from the streets of Kare’al, Riker was roused from sleep by the innkeeper’s summons. Sekol came into the room bearing a jug of hot water in one hand, a tray laden with small bowls of fresh milk and a platter of steaming rolls in the other.
“They’re here for you, sir,” he said, setting down his burdens on the one small table. “The fellows from last night, Misik and V’kal. Nice boys, they are, good family, not well-to-do but well meaning.” Riker sat up in bed. Beside him, Mr. Data continued to feign sleep. “Well, isn’t that always the better of the two?” he remarked pleasantly. “My friends and I were just saying last night, before we retired, that one of the best benefits of making a pilgrimage— besides the spiritual, of course—is getting to meet new people.” “Your friends, honored sir?” The innkeeper coughed discreetly into his fist. “Then the ladies are no kin to you by blood or marriage?” I never thought I’d actually say this to anyone, Riker thought. “We’re just good friends.” A moment later, he felt like giving himself a good, swift kick for not having taken the opening Sekot had offered and claiming the women as distant cousins. He said a silent prayer that the Ashkaarians wouldn’t consider their travel arrangements to be scandalous or—worse yet—suspicious.
“Ahhh.” Judging by Sekol’s placid reaction, there was nothing unusual or improper about mixed-sex groups of pilgrims with no ties beyond simple companionship. Either the Ashkaarians in general assumed that the sacred nature of such excursions would keep the pilgrims’ minds on holy things, or else the innkeeper in particular had decided that it wouldn’t be smart to antagonize his paying guests by questioning their morals.
Riker swung his feet to the floor. “Speaking of the ladies, have they been woken up too? If not, someone ought to do