Sereva escorted her through the crowd, stopping now and then to make introductions and exchange quick, gossipy comments. Kit endeavored to keep a polite expression on her face and did not trouble to attempt conversation except in direst necessity.

As when: “Oh, you’re Lorimela Candachi’s granddaughter! Have you met my cousin Emron? He works in the city, too, don’t you Emron?”

“Yes, in the law offices just inside the Complex. I take it you’re a city commuter, too?”

Then the desperate reply, for Sereva had not schooled her in this, and surely none of these people would be impressed that she worked in the gulden women’s ghetto: “Yes, I’m involved in some social charities. How long have you been in the city?”

“Oh, let’s see, not quite two years now. Minus the time I’ve gone back in-country, of course.”

“My aunt can’t stand to have him gone too long, you know.”

“As a mother, I can perfectly understand that.” Sereva’s voice.

Emron again. “I have bachelor’s quarters around the South Zero exit. I suppose you’re somewhere a little more upscale?”

“Oh yes, I live with my grandmother. Not far from here, actually. But I still like to take the Centrifuge into work.”

Uneasy laughter from everyone. “Do you?” Emron said. “It’s so rare that I see indigo women in the ringcars.”

“I like them,” Kit said, and could think of nothing else to say. But Sereva changed the subject smoothly, and Kit was not required to speak another word, and soon enough they moved on.

And had, essentially, the same conversation with a dozen others. It was beyond dull, it was horrifying, and even Sereva’s whispered commentary couldn’t spice it up enough to be tolerable.

“Now Emron, he was betrothed to a Twellin girl, but she wouldn’t marry him. Says she won’t marry anyone, and she’s got her jahla girl installed with her on this remote piece of property that she inherited when her grandmother died. Such an awkward thing to have happened, because he’s a nice young man.”

“A little vacuous, I thought.”

“Kit! Well, nobody really scintillates at events like this. But his cousin says he’s very bright. You might like him.”

“I like everybody,” Kit said mildly.

Sereva made a ladylike sniff.

Eventually, the music started, and to Kit’s surprise Emron wended his way to her side and invited her to dance. She accepted politely and did her part with all the grace she could muster, which was enough to keep them from crashing into other partners on the floor. There was little requirement to converse, which was a blessing, so Kit was actually grateful when Emron suggested a second dance. It was a way to kill another ten or fifteen minutes.