Man-Kzin Wars XIV by Larry Niven Page B

have a palace? Times have indeed changed, O’ Vaemar-Ritt!”
    “Only a small one. But I find it is big enough. It is not on the scale of my Honored Sire’s, but I find it is big enough for contentment.”
    “Then you are fortunate, as I have been.”

    Vaemar didn’t need a soap box to stand on, had such a thing been available and strong enough to bear his weight. He checked with the abbot, who nodded.
    “People, Heroes and humans, I am Vaemar-Riit. If you will vote for me next week, then I will represent you. My duty is to do what I can to help you help yourselves. I will do this if I am elected, whether you vote for me or not.
    “I will have a say in the making of the laws. I will try to pass laws which I think are good for all this world. I shall exercise my best judgement.”
    There were six, no, seven kzin standing at the back, with men and women among them.
    “If you want to ask me questions, I will try to answer them. Thank you.”
    It was probably the shortest campaign speech on record. It seemed to work. A kzin called out: “What is this voting? I have heard of it, but it meant nothing to me.”
    “You will be given a piece of paper with some names on it. There are little spaces after the names. To vote for me, you make a mark with a stylus after my name. If enough of you do this, I will become your representative.”
    “And if we have some trouble, we may come and ask your help?” a kzinrett asked.
    “Yes.” Vaemar was firm. “It will be my duty to give you help if I can.”
    The crowd digested this. “Will you favor the kzin? They are your kind,” a human voice pointed out.
    “No, I will do justice. I will be representing all of you, not just the kzin.”
    The crowd started discussing this with each other. Vaemar looked at the abbot, who nodded.

    “Did I do that properly?” Vaemar asked the abbot on the way back.
    “Looked pretty good to me,” Boniface told him comfortably. “Think of it as practice for the rest of the speeches. Some may be a little longer when you’re closer to Grossgeister. Tell them about the swamp.”
    “That will be good,” Vaemar agreed. “I thought perhaps I could have spoken more, but could think of nothing to say.”
    “Doesn’t stop most politicians,” the abbot said drily. “I found it very refreshing.”

    “Ain’t for me t’ tell you how t’ vote, Bill.” The judge yawned.
    “But you are gonna vote fer a kzin ? I don’t know I want to stay in this town, we got kzin all over the place, and I hate them. I hate them all.”
    “That’s your right as a free man an’ a fool, Bill Braun. How you can have strong feelins about a whole bunch of people you never even met is beyond me; I can only hate people I know pretty well, m’self.”
    “There you go, callin’ them people . They ain’t people, they’s kzin .”
    “Way I see it, if you can have a talk to it, it’s people. Don’t much care about the shape or size or color,” the judge told him. “Ruat is definitely people. He went into the river to fish out that kid was drowning last week, and he don’t like water much at all. Would you still hate him if it had been one of your kids?”
    Bill Braun glared at the judge. “We should have a human sheriff, not some goddam ratcat.”
    “No human sheriff could have heard the kid from that distance and moved so quickly. A human sheriff, and the kid would have drowned. ’Course, it’s so much better to be fished out dead by a human than alive by a kzin, ain’t it?”
    Bill Braun couldn’t think of an answer to that. He wanted to move out. He would have moved out. But his wife had told him that if he went, he went on his own. Damned women were more trouble than the kzin. And you couldn’t beat them these days, even when they were sassy. Last time he’d threatened her, she’d screamed and that damned Ruat had been at his door in two seconds flat. Hadn’t done anything. Just looked and asked if everything was alright. Had then explained that