The baxxid asked about one of Chityala’s manufacturing programs.
Kimia answered.
Precise. No wandering. No loss of thread.
Then it became her turn.
“And Ivenmozh?”
The human representative folded his hands.
“Busy.”
“Zhat sounds ominous.”
“It usually is.”
Another small laugh.
The conversation moved into trade. Shipping delays through the Passage. Rail allocations. Electronics production in Dinnlan. Agricultural machinery demand. A dispute between two Minor Houses over river freight rights.
The subjects were familiar enough that Kimia began relaxing in the way one might relax while carrying something heavy after finding the balance point.
Politics was easier when it became logistics.
Then the conversation widened.
Internal alignments among the Tradehouses. A proposed revision to defense contributions. An argument over telecommunications standards.
The interminable question of which regional councils possessed authority to override House directives during declared emergencies.
Kimia listened. Spoke. Listened again.
The baxxid diplomat had a way of pausing after nearly every question as though examining the answer from several directions before deciding whether it had been completed.
Kimia respected this. It also made her nervous.
Silence offered too much room.
At one point the baxxid stopped after Kimia explained Chityala's position on a proposed industrial tariff.
The pause lengthened. Kimia felt herself begin filling it internally.
You said something wrong.
No.
You misunderstood.
No.
It knows.
Knows what?
Nothing.
The baxxid finally said: “Your position is consistent.”
Kimia nearly laughed from relief.
Instead: “I try.”
The Ivenmoth representative turned to the question abroad.
“Tilmuhl.”
There it was.
Kimia sat slightly straighter.
“Yes.”
The human exchanged a glance with his baxxid colleague.
“Olissingen remains stable.”
“For zhe moment,” Kimia said.
“Yes.”
“Eauritsstad?”
“Less so.”
Kimia took a sip of water. The glass clicked faintly against the edge of her shelltooth. She set it down.
“Border incidents?”
“Several.”
“Military?”
“Nominally irregular.”
Kimia disliked that phrase.
“Meaning?”
“Local formations operating without formal acknowledgment.”
“So military.”
The human representative smiled faintly.
“Effectively.”
The baxxid spoke.
“Neither government presently wishes to characterize events as escalation.”
Kimia looked at it.
“Because naming escalation obliges response.”
“Yes.”
“And because both would prefer zhe other side be first to admit loss of control.”
Another low resonance. Agreement.
Kimia had followed Tilmuhl carefully.
Not from fascination.
Necessity.
The Heart had invested too much there to pretend distance made events irrelevant.
Kilcane. Bycite. Ports. Plantations. Resource concessions. Military agreements. Shipping.
Every government insisted Tilmuhl was sovereign until sovereignty obstructed a contract.
She knew Olissingen hosted VSEA formations. She knew Eauritsstad regarded that presence as one more piece of Val Salian encroachment disguised as mutual defense. She knew newspapers in the Heart described the situation according to whoever owned them.
Kimia leaned forward slightly.
“What is Ivenmozh's assessment?”
The human did not answer immediately.
The baxxid did.
“Unstable equilibrium.”
Kimia waited.
The diplomat continued.
“Neither principal government currently benefits from open conflict. Several subordinate actors may.”
“Yes.”
“Therefore the probability of accidental escalation remains higher than the probability of intentional escalation.”
Kimia rolled this around in her head and came to an response that felt correct.
“Zhat distinction will matter very little after zhe first artillery battery fires across a recognized border.”
The Ivenmoth representative looked at her.