From the introduction:
For twenty two centuries word has been passing from ship to ship through the darkness; summoning members of your family; those who trade between the stars, to the Third Conclave.
You are the one appointed by your branch of the family as conclave representative. Your holds are filled with the cargo both exotic and mundane from your point of origin and you've spent most of the last millennium in cold-sleep bound for this meeting. It will likely end up being your life's work.
How will you, and by extension your clan, fare at the conclave?