Dinner was in the hotel's smaller ballroom, and Kris found herself sitting between the mayors of Port Stanley and Port Phoenix, a town so far upriver that its creek was nowhere close to navigable. However, until only a few years ago, out of respect for the Islanders, every town on Hikila, no matter how high and dry, was a port.
Kris wondered how much the Islanders appreciated that.
''So, what's King Ray really up to?'' kicked off the dinner conversation over a delicious clam chowder. A check around the table showed everyone was a mayor or the spouse of a mayor seated at another table sent to hear and report back. And all wanted to know what was really going on in United Sentients.
Kris gave her usual bland, ''I don't know. Good chowder.''
''Is Ray slipping, letting the Constitutional Convention convene at Pitts Hope while he stays on Wardhaven?'' a fellow who might have fought the Iteeche asked. ''I mean he's a Longknife, but that's a bit far to pull strings even for one of them.''
Kris kept a smile on her face and kept spooning chowder.
A younger woman whom Kris could easily grow to like asked, ''Do you know anything about what's going on?''
''No, I don't know if the next course is salad or fish,'' Kris said with a straight face.
That got a laugh. She took a napkin to her lips, folded it again, and glanced around the table. ''My grampa takes seriously that he's a constitutional monarch, and we don't have a constitution. Kind of makes it rough figuring out what we so-called royalty are supposed to do,'' Kris said with a wry grin.
That got her a round of dry chuckles.
''Anyway, he's on Wardhaven, and the palavering is on Pitts Hope because he really wants it that way. The folks who have tossed in their hats are deciding how United Sentients is going to run. Should the legislature have one house, two, or three? I don't know; they'll decide. One planet, one vote. Join now and have a say. Join later and, well, you'll know what you're joining, but the saying will be done.''
''I take it you're for joining early,'' the mayor of Port Stanley said.
''I tend to want to be heard when I say my say.'' Kris grinned.
''I've heard something to that effect,'' brought a chuckle from around the table. Kris did her best impression of wounded innocence. The chuckles grew to full laughter.
''Will this U.S. thing protect us?'' One mayor asked.
''A major chunk of the Wardhaven fleet is at Boynton taking the pressure off them,'' Kris answered.
''All of it, I understand,'' one corrected.
Kris said nothing.
''Is it there to protect Boynton, or to pressure them into joining United? If we don't come in, will we be looking up at a squadron of Wardhaven battleships blockading our trade?'' said a young mayor. Kris hadn't gotten his town.
''That's one interpretation of the situation out there I hadn't heard,'' she said slowly. ''For the record, Boynton was in the final process of completing its application when ships started showing up from two, three different other planets. I don't know what they were planning on doing, or who called them in. They aren't saying. Boynton's government asked for help. Wardhaven responded. So did several other planets. At least that's what I saw on all the news. Where'd you hear different?''
''One hears different things, different places,'' the man said, returning to his chowder.
The salad arrived, and talk lapsed into generalities about the future of humanity and the problems of six hundred planets. Nothing specific to Hikila, Kris noted. She ate what was put before her and answered the questions posed to her, careful to avoid any hypotheticals that might come back to bite her or her grampa.
After dinner was a ''dance,'' which meant that some people actually got out on the floor and danced to music that might have been popular long before humanity left old Earth, or music derived from such sounds. It was music intended to let some people move together in a lovely fashion while others looked on and got about the main reason they had gathered here: talk.
They talked about the other people with them or talked about politics. Tonight, politics seemed to be the main topic.
And Kris found herself pretty much out of the mainstream.
She enjoyed the quiet for a while until an attractive man of about her own age and height settled into the chair next to her and said, ''Lovely jewelry they make in the Islands. You and the other princess swap baubles?''
Kris held up a bracelet of coral and pearls. ''It's probably the most authentic object I've ever worn in my life.''
He rubbed his chin. ''Authentic is big with them.''
''You've probably figured out I'm Kris Longknife. You are…?''
He offered his hand and a smile. ''I'm Sam Trabinki, son of the mayor of Port Stanley. I've been watching you two young ladies from the cheap seats most of the day, seeing how this political thing is done, taking notes. My dad will be inflicting a quiz on me as soon as you leave town.''
''Your dad sounds very much like my father.''
''Politician first, everything else much later?'' he said.
''And I would have sworn they only made one like him, and I got him.''
''And I thought I had that privilege.'' He chuckled dryly.
''Did yours refer things you wanted ‘to committee for further study' and leave you scurrying around the family to corral enough votes to get it out?'' Kris asked.
''Yes.'' He laughed. ''I was the only ten-year-old to organize my family supper talk in bullets.''
''I started that at nine,'' Kris said, hoping he wouldn't feel one-upped.
''We'll, your dad was a Longknife. Did it get worse?''
Kris thought for a moment, blinked, then nodded. ''Yes, it did. Father quit coming home for supper.'' And she found herself talking about Eddy's kidnapping and death. Her eyes still stung, and there was dampness there, but she didn't choke on her words. Not now. He was a good listener, head nodding, making those faint listening noises that encouraged her to go on. She still stripped out anything she wouldn't want to see in the paper tomorrow, but she did feel better for the talk, or maybe it was the finish. ''Then again, I did kill the last kidnapping bastards that crossed my path.''
''I thought you captured those punks on Harmony.''
She blinked, full defenses going up. ''You researched me!'' she said in full accusation.
He grinned and threw himself happily on her mercy. ''When a Longknife comes to town, an apprentice politician kind of has to do a bio on the visiting fireman, er, woman. Dad gave me an A-plus,'' he said by way of mitigation.
''Send me a copy. I need to know what the news has me officially guilty of these days. But I think that last kidnapping was kept out of the paper, or at least my name wasn't attached to it. Anyway, if you're ever kidnapped and I'm nearby, the rescue is free.''
''You're quite a spectacular woman.''
''And that's the best pickup line anyone's ever tried on me.''
''No, really, you did whatever you did at the Paris system and on Turantic, and yet you're sitting here quietly, letting Aholo get all the attention tonight.''
''It's her planet, her show.''
He glanced Aholo's way. ''Were you in the Islands long?''
''A couple of days.''
''What's it like?''
''I think paradise is the usual word that's overworked.''
''Yeah, that's what my dad says, but my mom keeps coming up with reasons why I can't manage to fit a visit into my schedule.''
Kris could understand that. She surveyed the room; dress here was light on skin and solidly conservative. Even Mother's latest fashion delivery from Earth would be decidedly out of step here. Yep, the Mainland was in rebellion from the Island culture, and not just work versus subsistence, cash versus barter. There were a lot of differences, and they went deep and philosophical. Whatever political machinery they came up with would have to be resilient enough to survive a lot of pushing and pulling over the next fifty years.