''So, baby ducks, if you want something like that other nice princess was wearing, you came to the right place,'' Abby said, unrolling several lengths of stencils.
''So it's flowers and body paint tonight.''
''With me having paint-by-numbers fun.'' Abby grinned.
Kris sighed as she stripped out of her whites and shimmied into the armored body stocking. ''When in Rome.''
''You'll find it's a lot easier to fit in than you think.''
A thought crossed Kris's mind. ''What'll Jack wear?''
''Don't know. We'll have to wait and see.''
Abby applied paint liberally, covering Kris with twining flowers from her neck to her toes without a patch of skin peeking out. Between curling hairpieces and leis, Kris felt almost fully dressed above her navel. She had no trouble hiding Nelly and her automatic. ''You sure you need that?'' Abby asked.
Kris squelched that question. ''It may look like paradise, but until I spot the snake, I'm going fully prepared.''
Abby shrugged and set about arranging the second lei so that it would stay in place. Kris wondered how the other girls kept them secure and put that question off for Aholo.
Kris wasn't sure how Jack did it, but he was just leaving his room when Kris answered the princess's knock at her door. Kris about went cross-eyed trying to take them both in at once.
Aholo's sarong had covered a beautiful pastel tapestry of tattoos that merged flowers and ocean, fish and birds into a breathtaking tableau that was almost as lovely as her. Her long raven hair cascaded down her back in one straight fall. Her flowers danced to a stop as she waited at the door. Kris's question as to how she kept them in place was answered as she adjusted them back into place. Kris swallowed hard.
And looked at Jack. His tattoos were the more traditional black and skin. More skin at wrists and ankles growing darker as they approached the navel. A strategically placed gourd did for him what a similarly placed lei did for Kris. Kris had no idea where he was hiding his automatic.
''We must hurry, or we'll be late for the crowning.'' So Kris and Jack hurried. Penny and Tom joined them. As promised, Penny was in dress whites, and so was Tom. Kris reminded herself that they were the ones out of uniform here. It almost worked.
''Where'd you get the tattoos?'' Kris whispered to Jack.
''Paint job,'' Jack whispered back. ''Afa suggested the place. Said I couldn't accompany you into the Long House unless I did something about all this pale skin.''
''I like the gourd.''
''Thought you might. I like the flowers.''
Their arrival at the Long House cut off Kris's answer. It was made of whole logs elaborately carved in baffling figures and patterns. As Kris followed Aholo forward to where a fire pit burned low, sending sweet-smelling smoke upward through a hole in the palm-fronds roof, Jack was politely, but firmly, edged over to the side of the door with several other young men. The people around the walls of the long house, singing to a softly beaten drum, were equally men and women but uniformly old. Two old women in short grass skirts stepped forward.
Kris had been coached in the questions. Though they came in an almost dead language, she knew how to answer. ''Will you dance up the full moon?'' ''Will you light the way for the sailor to find his way home to his island?'' ''Will you call the fish up from the depths?'' At each pause, Kris answered ''Hã'' with Aholo. At the third yes, the women placed a flowered crown of orchids on each of their heads, kissed them, gave them a pat, and said, ''Now, go dance and have fun,'' in English.
''Yes, Auntie Kalama,'' Aholo said with an answering hug of her own, then she grabbed Kris's elbow and, business over, skipped from the Long House.
Kris skipped along, blinking at what she thought she saw up in the rafters of the house. ''Are those heads?''
''Yes, shrunken heads of the queens and their consorts. Great-grandmother's head will be there someday. And mine. They watch over the affairs of the People.''
''Tradition,'' Jack said, falling in step with Kris. And Kris decided maybe the Longknifes weren't the only strange ones in human space.
But there wasn't a lot of time to think, because Aholo led them into a wide circle of thousands of people, maybe everyone on the island. There were several fires casting light, and the smells of dinner cooking. The sun was setting behind them, painting the tropical sky crimson, silver, and gold. Before them lay the rumbling lagoon and the growing dark of the ocean.
The drums began to pound a rapid beat. The steps were fast, not all that different from ones Kris has learned for a middle school sock hop, leaving her to wonder who had stolen from whom. The arm and hand motions were much more complicated, and Kris let Aholo take a few extra steps toward the ink-jet sea and then did her best to stay only a quarter heartbeat behind her.
It must have worked. No one interrupted the dance to name her imposter… and a huge full moon began to inch its way out of the ocean, setting the waves to shimmering with its light.
With the intense look on Aholo's face as her guide, Kris danced as if the moon did look to her for instructions. She danced as if the fish and navigators this month would depend upon her for the light to find their way home. A gal who'd navigated jump points found herself so taken by the drumming and the night that when the music pounded to a halt, and she and Aholo turned to present the moon to the people, Kris felt rather proud of what she'd danced birth to.
''Wasn't that fun?'' Aholo said, out of breath, but her hands held out wide at her side, as if presenting the moon … and viewed from a certain perspective, she was.
Kris, her hands in mirror reflection, got a ''Hã'' past out-of-breath lungs. ''I hope we don't have to lead the next one.''
''Oh no. The little ones are next,'' and with that, a small tidal wave of people under four feet tall flooded the sand around them and began their own offering to a slower drum. They sang in high-pitched voices something that might have been a thank-you for the moon coming out. But then, they were often unsure of the words and the key, but never unsure of their enthusiasm. Anyway, they did dimples very well and gave Kris a chance to catch her breath, locate a drink that wasn't fermented, and follow Aholo around a circle of proud parents who were nevertheless happy to congratulate Kris on her own dance.
''It's good luck to have two princesses Dance up the Moon. It's been too long we've had just one Dancer on the island,'' one grandmother type muttered as they passed.
Aholo winced, and Kris made a mental note to look into some family trees, but not in a fashion that hurt her hostess.
The children finished their dance and galloped to be first in line for food. Now dancers Kris's age took their place. The women in one line, the men facing them in another, and Kris saw what twenty years of practice could do.
It also clarified any questions Kris had about the dress code. There wasn't one. The large size of Jack's gourd and amount of her flowers made them overdressed. Several of the women and men had tattoos over all of their bodies … well, almost all… and nothing to interrupt the view. One particularly wild dancer had crossed clubs on his chest dripping blood. ''Even his face is covered with tattoos,'' Kris said.
''Yes.'' Aholo nodded. ''Those are warrior tats.''
''Do you have warriors?'' They had shrunken heads in their Long House. What other traditions had they dredged up?
''Kailahi's the center on our football team. Tries to scare the other team something horrible with a before-game show.''
''Does it work?'' Jack asked.
''They're in last place. Couple of the fans are threatening to redo his tats with hearts and flowers.''
''That… could be painful.''
''Well, the tats are biodegradable,'' Aholo said. ''Mine are starting to fade. When I choose a consort, have a kid, take on the queenship from Grandmama, I'll need a whole new face to the world. I can't be pretty flowers and fish all my life.''