Tooth and Claw - Doranna Durgin [53]
“The main bestowing hall,” she said promptly. “Where training participants are awarded honors. Historically the kaphooras began and ended here, but no longer.”
“No,” Picard said. “Considering they’ve wiped out any animal large enough and dangerous enough to provide daleura on a hunt, I can see why they would end that particular tradition. Has it not occurred to them to seed some of Fandre’s creatures here?”
She laughed, a pleasant sound. “What makes you think the Fandreans would allow that? They know well enough that no matter what the Tsorans say, sooner or later the animals would be offered up as sacrifice to special kaphoora, and not remain protected under the current —and stringently enforced—Fandrean rules.”
Yes. Of course.
Nadann pushed aside another door, a huge and hugely ornate thing, and sunlight flooded in. “The actual training takes place outdoors, in the central area. The young Tsorans learn to use the trank guns and their knives, and build their strength and endurance. There are classrooms for studying the flora and fauna, and mock battles in which crude holograms represent the creatures.” They headed across hot, bright sand toward another structure, one whose walls scooped outward in the clamshell shape of an outdoor viewing venue. “It might be worthwhile to add that none of these kaphoora candidates is given much information on the deep Legacy, the area in which your Commander Riker was directed to land. That landing was the ReynSa’s idea, a way for her son to earn more daleura than anyone before him. Her second son, Takarr, is already incorporating deep Legacy information into his studies, in case he should acquire the same opportunity.”
“Well,” Picard said, preparing himself to deal with Tsoran social patterns again, “let us hope that while
Atann explains and displays these aspects of the training, he’ll also find himself amenable to discussions of a more serious nature.”
“It was a good move, I think, to express such interest in the daleura-laden kaphoora training,” Nadann said, optimism on her clear, open features. “He really couldn’t pass that up. Now … I’m afraid it’s up to you to turn the encounter into something more.”
“It is, isn’t it,” Picard muttered to himself, giving Nadann a small, wry smile as they entered the shadow of the training facility and hesitated before another pair of intensely carved doors. Even as they halted, a Tsoran youth walked briskly around the curving exterior, his eyes on the ground and his chin pouch tense with thought.
“Pardon us,” Nadann said instantly, stepping out of his path; her hand on Picard’s arm indicated that he should do the same.
The youth looked up. By Tsoran standards he was slender, even for an immature male, but his vest was as ornate as any Picard had seen, and he quickly drew himself up into a stiffer, more arrogant posture. With that movement he suddenly looked familiar, although it wasn’t until Nadann gave a respectful acknowledgment that he knew why. “Takarr,” she said, turning her head ever so slightly to reveal throat.
“Ambassador Nadann,” the youth said, his tone still reserved—but already he was relaxing his aggressive stance. More easygoing than Atann or Akarr, on the whole.
“Let me introduce Captain Picard,” Nadann said. “I’m delighted to have the opportunity.”
Takarr showed his teeth slightly, a startling reversal of his pleasant response to Nadann—albeit quickly squelched. “I’m surprised they allowed it to happen.”
From Nadann’s sudden poker face, Picard surmised that she