Three minutes.
She thought of Kalgkur.
Speak to the person.
There was no person yet.
Only a room.
Hundreds. Thousands perhaps. The political nervous system of the Heart gathered under one roof.
Kimia looked at the sleeve on her kaftan again.
Stitch. Stitch. Stitch.
Two minutes.
Doors opened near the central floor.
People entered.
Ivenmoth officials first. Security. Senior ministers. Several baxxids.
Then Ieronim Val Salia.
Kimia recognized him immediately.
Everyone did.
He did not look like the Heart.
No person could.
That was the strange part.
He was a modest-looking human man, with combed silver hair, blue eyes, and he walked with a slow and uneven gait that was steadied with a wooden cane. Kimia picked up the sound of the cane hitting the floor, which punctuated his steps.
The man toward whom so much institutional gravity bent remained a man.
The big-dick himself.
Kimia had to suppress the phrase before it became visible on her face. Vehm had contaminated her with how he responded to her quips.
Ieronim moved toward his seat.
The enormous horned representative stood.
So did several others.
Then the room followed.
Kimia rose with them.
Hundreds of chairs shifted at once.
A physical sound.
Cloth. Wood. Shoes. Claws. Baxxid bodies repositioning.
The noise of deference.
Kimia looked forward.
Ieronim acknowledged the hall and sat.
No grand gesture.
A small inclination.
Everyone sat again.
Kimia sat.
Her heart beat harder.
The televox screen displayed the Diet seal.
The House Ivenmoth representative responsible for procedure stood at a lectern.
A microphone adjusted.
“Delegates. Lords. Representatives of the Great and Minor Tradehouses. By authority vested in this body under the Compact of the Heart, the Val Salian Diet is called to order.”
There.
It had begun.
The screen displayed the agenda.
Procedural matters first.
Of course.
Credential confirmation. Quorum. Approval of previous records. Committee assignments.
The machinery needed to prove itself capable of existing before discussing anything that mattered.
Kimia found this comforting.
Votes. Hands. Names. No war yet. No Tilmuhl.
Not immediately.
She listened.
Mostly.
Her mind remained intact.
The neurologist's phrase returned.
Mostly fit.
Good enough.
A representative from Eastwall raised an objection to the wording of a procedural amendment.
Someone from Dinnlan disagreed.
A baxxid from Ivenmoth clarified.
Ten minutes disappeared into one sentence.
Kimia almost smiled.
Mass egregore.
The philosopher would have enjoyed this.
Hundreds of people creating an institution by acting as though it existed, while the institution simultaneously dictated how they were permitted to act.
Imaginary. Real. Televox screen. Microphones. Security. Votes. People.
The phantasm had acquired a building.
Kimia looked down at her hands again.
Still there.
Eventually the procedural agenda cleared.
The chairman paused.
Kimia felt the room alter before anything was said.
People knew.
The next item appeared.
EXTERNAL SECURITY AND REGIONAL STABILITY - TILMUHL
There it was.
The rope.
Kimia's stomach tightened.
The room became attentive.
A map appeared across the enormous screen.
Tilmuhl. Olissingen. Eauritsstad. Borders. Ports. Rail lines. Known incidents marked in small symbols. Resource concessions. VSEA installations.
The entire troubled place transformed into colored shapes visible from every seat.
Kimia stared.
Somewhere inside that map lived people who woke, ate breakfast, complained about work, stole bottles of liquor, sold water, unloaded freight and went to sleep believing tomorrow would resemble today.
The Diet saw lines.
Kimia understood why.
One could not govern millions through intimate knowledge.
Still.
Something bothered her.
A senior Ivenmoth minister began presenting the security assessment.
Words. Incidents. Irregular forces. Trade disruption. Insurance rates. Readiness. No declaration of emergency. No recommendation for mobilization.
Not yet.
The rope held.
Kimia listened.
The horned representative beside Ieronim remained completely still.
One hand rested upon the table.
Ieronim watched the map.
All around the room rulers and delegates listened to someone explain why a place thousands of kilometers away might soon require them to make decisions that would alter the lives of people they would never meet.
Kimia felt the actor within her settle.
Not disappear.
Settle.
This at least was familiar.
The world presented a problem.
Someone would ask what she thought.
She would answer.
And for the moment, beneath the Teeth and within the actual heart of the Heart, that was all anyone could do.