As the sole representative of the Central Worlds, Keff was their model. Young Cridi he saw in the streets had begun to wear clothes like his, and adopted his posture, even some of his mannerisms. Some even dyed their skin to match his. The hue was disconcerting on hides normally ranging from yellow-green to brown-green.
But the human trait that spread the fastest and most generally was a smile. Strange Cridi smiled at him in imitation of his own crinkly-eyed, dimpled-cheek grin. It was all the rage. Keff sat in the evenings with Carialle, watching the news programs, including video of himself, usually shot from the knees up so that his face was telescoped into an isosceles triangle. The commentators discussed, with terse movements and much cheeping of navigational and trigonometry, the location and profusion of Central Worlds systems. One even pointed out, to Keff's surprise, the system settled by humans that lay quite close to them on the other side of the R-sector benchmark. That was the original trading post that had been the site of Carialle's disaster. Keff watched Carialle's reactions closely, but she was too involved in the ongoing negotiations and recording gigabytes of data for Xeno to be troubled by her memories.
Keff and the Ozranians were invited all over Greedeek and to the other cities on Cridi by homeworlders eager to meet the long-lost travelers and the alien stranger. Every day there were invitations to visit various societies or venues to talk about Sky Clear, or space travel, or the Central Worlds, or humanity in general. Big Eyes assigned herself the task of social secretary for the four, partly as a courtesy service, but partly, too, to be able to spend as much time as possible with Tall Eyebrow. With a humorous eye, she weeded out the frivolous invitations, or those which she said, "would not be useful or fun." The best of the invitations still made for a very full program. Keff and the three Ozranians spoke to three or more groups per day. He doubted that every civic group wanted to see him or the two junior delegates, but Tall Eyebrow had generously insisted on their inclusion. Privately, Keff thought that the Frog Prince wanted Keff and his two companions nearby for confidence. Tall Eyebrow didn't need anyone to lean on. Once he began speaking about the conditions on Ozran, the agriculture, the people that he led and loved, he was transformed from a nervous, sometimes melancholy figure to a dynamic speaker. Or rather, signer. He stopped asking Keff and Carialle to take him back to Ozran, and began to acknowledge that he deserved his place among his ancestors' people.
Keff and Tall Eyebrow also made a point to spend much of their free time with Narrow Leg at the Cridi space facility. The elder enjoyed talking space with Keff and, by extension with Carialle, exchanging ideas and techniques.
"Human techology is good, very good," Narrow Leg asserted. "Refinements we have forgotten, or never known, worth having."
"There's also a few wiggles that I haven't seen," Carialle said. "I've racked my databases, but I've never before seen a system that allows a planet's worth of temporary power supply to be carried in a cargo hold. If the Cridi government is willing to share that, it'll assuage a lot of hardships for settlers on primitive colony worlds, giving them a pad to work from until they can establish their own systems. The insurmountable trouble is remote control, that's all."
Narrow Leg had the foresight to arrange to have a reporter present at most of the conferences between him and Keff so that all Cridi was party to the discussions.
Over the next weeks, Keff and the others were feted, feasted, and fawned over to exhaustion.
"I'm almost sorry I'm so popular," he confessed to Carialle, as he sat through yet another luncheon where he hunched crosslegged with his meal balanced on his knees. The wooden plate, either a serving platter or a hastily manufactured piece made in proportion to his size, held an unappetizing mess of greens such as Tall Eyebrow and the Ozranians favored, alongside a small clutch of wiggling larvae.
Keff, Tall Eyebrow and his retinue were at the main table in the center of the large room. The Frog Prince, between Smooth Hand and Big Eyes, seemed more relaxed than he had before. Occasionally, Keff felt an invisible hand tap his knee. When he looked up, Tall Eyebrow met his glance, then tilted his head in the direction of this or that conversation. No longer was Sky Clear considered a remote concern. Quite a few local manufacturers and businessfrogs were discussing the possibility of setting up shop on the colony.
Long Hand was fielding such a question from an increasingly insistent Big Voice, who had spread before her holographic photo displays and sheets full of graphs and text.
"But all this, exchanges and imports, must wait, gentle-male," Long Hand protested. "We have no hard currency, and our own exports are few and doubtful at present. Wait a few years, until we have more concerns going so we can deal with you on a more equal basis."
Big Voice was undaunted. "I am eager to secure favorable siting for my manufacturing plants. It means jobs and opportunity for Cridi there. Such things should be settled as quickly as possible. Would you approve of investment from outside, an advance of funds, perhaps, against future interests?"
Long Hand let out a peal of laughter. "We have nowhere to spend this imaginary money, gentle-male. All we may do is add your name to the roster of those interested, and we will be sure to speak to you early when we have anything to offer. You must wait."
Keff, missing none of the important details of the conversation because it was all in sign language, smiled to himself. Big Voice wasn't the only one with an eye toward future profit, just the most persistent.
A female in gold torc and bracelets rose to her feet and clicked insistently in her throat for attention.
"Gentle-females and gentle-males," she signed in full formal language, "we are privileged to welcome the stranger from the Central Worlds. Please give him your kind attention."
"Thank you, madam chairfrog," Keff said in Standard, adding the appropriate courtesies in sign language. "I come to you today to offer your people…"
The Cridi media also clamored for interviews. Keff did his share, but he urged the commentators who came to him to take advantage of the returnees instead.
The most important event of all took place several weeks after the CK-963 had made landfall. Ten thousand Cridi were packed into a low room like an amphitheater, hundreds of meters long. The rows of seats were sloped so that the huge audience could see the stage at the bottom, but the ceiling was quite low. Keff lay on his belly to watch, facing downward in one of the side aisles, sweltering in the high humidity. He had been warned to wear his best tunic, and he had done so. To keep from getting it dirty, he'd snaffled a few huge ear-shaped leaves from a handy plant in the lobby, and used them as a ground sheet. Long, reedlike fronds stuck out every which way from the edges of the leaves. Keff had to push them to one side, and finally tuck them under his body to see.
"Just like it was when we first saw you," Tall Eyebrow said, showing his sharp little fangs in a broad grin, his black eyes glinting, pointing to the waving tendrils. "In the high grass on Ozran."
"I was more comfortable then," Keff said, grinning back. He had to prop himself on his elbows to sign. "The blood's rushing to my head. Try to make this one brief, won't you?"
"If I can, friend Keff, if I can."
Smooth Hand, on his way down with Narrow Leg to take their places at the table on the dais, saw this exchange.
"Do not be in such a hurry to bring this meeting to an end," he said, pausing beside the human and patting him on the shoulder. "You will enjoy it more than any other meeting you have attended."