Tooth and Claw - Doranna Durgin [18]
“Did it?” Picard said, trying to remember if the information had been in his mission brief.
“Indeed. Tehra offers all things—beauty, an acute sense of daleura, the skills to thrive in the ReynSa’s competitive life … not only has she raised Akarr as if he were her own, she honored him by naming her own son—my second son—Takarr.” He looked back at Troi. “But I am rude, to so praise another woman while enjoying your presence.”
Troi gave him a genuine smile, and Picard took note—the Tsorans could turn on charm as well as the brusque daleura tones Akarr had thrown at them.
“Please,” said Alarm, “let me expose you to the advantages of living on Tsora.” Without waiting for a response, he turned away to lead them to the food.
Picard glanced at Troi, and found her exotic features tinged with alarm. Was it something he’d said? Some reaction she felt from Atann? Or—he glanced again at the Enterprise officers around him. They had plates, he noticed, but no one seemed to be going back for seconds. Or finishing what they had.
When he met Troi’s gaze again and saw her eyes widen slightly, he knew he’d guessed right. Apparently those spices were just as strong as they smelled.
“This is the heessla, ” Atann said, picking up a stylish Tsoran serving utensil and scooping a steaming meat entree onto an equally stylistic plate. “One of the favored foods of my region. This vegetable is from the southern continent—you’ll want to try it, too.” And he applied some to the plate. Picard’s plate.
“I want to be sure to sample everything,” Picard said, resigning himself to an evening of gastrointestinal upset. “Smaller portions would make that easier, don’t you think?”
“Eh?” Atann twisted back to look up at him. “Mighty sybyls, you humans have a puny appetite.”
There was a stir at the doorway as Beverly Crusher entered, attracting more attention than one might expect; Enterprise personnel immediately gravitated toward her, as though she were some sort of pied piper. She was dressed for the reception in flowing slacks and a tunic of subtle greens and blues that were a soothing balm to Picard’s eyes in contrast to the rest of the room. And—odd—she carried a small matching satchel. In another time, he would have called it a purse. Her fan cheeks carried a fading blush not unlike the one the rest of the room’s occupants sported.
She scanned the room, spotted him, and swooped in just as Troi put a hesitant scoop full of heessla on her oval plate. “Good afternoon,” she said breezily, not at all like herself. “Glad you made it, JeanLuc.”
“Where else would I be?” Picard said, somewhat taken aback.
But she didn’t answer; instead she nodded respectfully at the ReynKa—and while she was at it, she pressed something into Picard’s hand, a wafer of some sort. To judge by the look on Troi’s face, she had received a similar offering.
“You were late, Captain,” Atann said, no more or less belligerently than usual; Picard would have said he enjoyed the chance to point it out, though he didn’t hesitate in his self-appointed task of heaping Picard’s plate with food.
And while Picard sought a suitable reply, Crusher leaned over to his ear and murmured, “Chew that very well before you put one bite of that food in your mouth!” Then, rather more brightly than her wont, she said, “Oh, there’s the ReynSa. I brought back that little
token from Risa she was asking about a moment ago.”
“Surely not,” Picard managed, but she was gone-and if she was on her way to the ReynSa, she was taking the long way around, and surrounded all along the way by crew behaving like beggars imploring a tourist for coins.
Troi, he noticed, had already consumed her wafer. He slipped his own into his mouth, nodding at Atann’s enthusiastic endorsement of the pureed … whatever it was. Good Lord, the wafer tasted awful.
Picard glanced at the crowd of discomfit ted red faced crew members … And chewed.
Akarr clutched the edges