For now, he had Kostroma and that was wonder enough. He whistled a snatch of a tune the band had played at the supper club he’d visited the night before.
Daniel smiled, an expression so naturally warm that strangers on the street smiled back at him. The Kostroman lady he’d met there was named Silena. The honor both of a Leary of Bantry and the RCN required that Daniel offer his help when the lady’s young escort drank himself into babbling incapacity. Silena had been very appreciative; and after the first few minutes back at her lodgings, pique at her original escort was no longer her primary focus.
Daniel was only a little above average height with a tendency toward fleshiness that showed itself particularly in his florid face. His roundness and open expression caused strangers sometimes to dismiss Daniel Leary as soft. That was a mistake.
A canal ran down the center of the broad street. During daylight it carried only small craft, water taxis and light delivery vehicles, but at night barges loaded with construction materials edged between the stone banks with loud arguments over right-of-way. The pavements to either side seethed with a mixture of pedestrians and three-wheeled motorized jitneys, though like the canals they would fill with heavy traffic after dark.
The Kostroman economy was booming on the profits of interstellar trade, and much of that wealth was being invested here in the capital. Rich merchants built townhouses, and the older nobility added to the palaces of their clans so as not to be outdone.
Folk at a lower social level—clerks in the trading houses, the spacers who crewed Kostroma’s trading fleet, and the laborers staffing the factories and fisheries that filled those starships, all had gained in some degree. They wanted improved lodgings as well, and they were willing to pay for them.
Daniel walked along whistling, delighted with the pageant. People wore colorful clothing in unfamiliar styles. Many of them chattered in local dialects: Kostroma was a watery planet from whose islands had sprung a hundred distinct tongues during the long Hiatus in star travel. Even those speaking Universal, now the common language of the planet as well as that of interstellar trade, did so in an accent strange to Cinnabar ears.
Civilization hadn’t vanished on Kostroma as it had on so many worlds colonized during the first period of human star travel, but Kostroman society had fragmented without the lure of the stars to unify it. The centuries since Kostroma returned to space hadn’t fully healed the social fabric: the present Elector, Walter III of the Hajas clan, had seized power in a coup only six months before.
Nobody doubted that Walter intended to retain Kostroma’s traditional friendship with the Republic of Cinnabar, but the new Elector needed money. At the present state of the war between Cinnabar and the Alliance of Free Stars, Walter’s hint that he might not renew the Reciprocity Agreement when it came due in three months had been enough to bring a high-level delegation from Cinnabar.
Daniel sighed. A high-level delegation, with one junior lieutenant thrown in as a makeweight. Daniel had almost certainly been sent because he was the son of the politically powerful Corder Leary, former Speaker of the Cinnabar Senate. Daniel’s—bad—relationship with his father was no secret in the RCN, but the ins and outs of Cinnabar families wouldn’t be common knowledge on Kostroma.
A man came out of a doorway, pushing himself onto the crowded pavement while calling final instructions to someone within the building. Daniel would have avoided the fellow if there’d been room. There wasn’t, so he set his shoulder instead and it was the larger Kostroman who bounced back with a surprised grunt.
No one took notice of what was merely a normal hazard of city life. Daniel walked on, eyeing with interest the carven swags and volutes that decorated unpretentious four-story apartment buildings.
Kostromans didn’t duel the way members of Cinnabar’s wealthy families sometimes did. On the other hand, feuds and assassinations were accepted features of Kostroman social life. Daniel supposed it was whatever you were used to.
In Xenos, Cinnabar’s capital, real magnates like Corder Leary moved through the streets with an entourage of fifty or more clients, some of whom might be senators themselves. You stepped aside or the liveried toughs leading the procession knocked you aside. The free citizens of the galaxy’s proudest republic accepted—indeed, expected—that their leaders would behave in such fashion. Who would obey a man who lacked a strong sense of his own honor?