And How To Avoid It While Maintaining Plausibility
“There's no one!” The park bench demonstrated its admirable firmness of construction when it withstood Onerid's ferocious sitting. “Sisters, daughters-in-law, nieces, nothing. I should have researched if the Bodan-Tins spring from a magic rock in the cellar. Not even a hired social coordinator or domestic specialist as is sometimes done.”
“The chief dealt with us yesterday. Are we in dangerous straits if that continues?” Stansolt sounded like an ambassador of serenity and contentment, almost as if he did not much care about the negotiations.
Onerid cared a great deal, but she did calm down. “I won't say that, but there may be some maneuver underway we cannot possibly understand from our position. Or the Stanops simply doesn't care for the usual thing, which is his right, but is awkward for us. My brother should have come instead. For me to negotiate with a man is unseemly, despite simple translation being respectable enough, and so Mr. Dirant must do it, but while we might develop some system of suggestions using taps and gestures, every Drastlifar would conclude we are engaged or ought to become so to prevent scandal.”
“I really think you shouldn't do that,” Takki advised.
“The impression I had from Sajaitin Igwodan-Tin is that anything I say in my capacity as a Ritualist is likely to be trusted without evidence.” Dirant tried to look honest despite often being told how badly he fared in that. “I say nothing about deceit of course. There is that, and beyond it I wonder what negotiations there are to carry out. Is the matter not settled already?”
Onerid tapped his arm with her fan, which in Adaban society implied nothing matrimonial. “You may not know, but Drastlifars consider themselves sharp as a rule, and oligarchs are acknowledged to be the sharpest. They like to try slipping in some tricky provision to preserve their image regardless of whether it gets them much. Ah, the earth is already dug, I suppose. Do you at least have some negotiating experience or ability?”
“I possess Mercantile Fundamentals.”
“It is better than I hoped,” Onerid admitted.
That was the least of his credentials, but because his modesty prevented saying so, another person was forced to correct the record about his practical experience. “He received the capitulation of the city of Wessolp in the Engagement War too, and a mayor is kind of like an oligarch.”
Onerid observed Takki's twinkling eyes and reached a conclusion. “That's a strange joke, so there must be some reference I don't understand. Will you tell me?”
Takki laughed outright at that. “Of course. The reference is to something that actually happened and I'm going to tell you about it right now.” And so she did.
When she finished, Onerid and Ibir viewed Dirant with a new respect, or a new something in any case. “That sort of bluffing should do well enough, Mr. Dirant,” the former decided. “If we need an interruption, the sign will be that I pretend to trip.”
“I see. And if you trip in fact?”
“Please break off negotiations and assist me in that case as well.”
“You shouldn't have to be told that, Ressi.” Takki scolded him and scowled a bit as well. Stansolt, for his part, grinned.
“Certainly I hope not to shame the reputation of the GE as far as gentle manners,” Dirant said without snorting, rolling his eyes, or emphasizing certain words for dramatic effect. That deserved a full level by itself in his judgment, but the universe demurred. “And after that, what is the sign? Our bargaining position must be diminished more by constant pratfalls appropriate for comedic theater and nowhere else than by my commercial clumsiness.”
“Ah. Yes.” Onerid considered. “Suppose I pause in my translation and mention thirst. The Stanops will likely call for a hiatus himself, since thirst is a common complaint in this country. In fact, forget the tripping altogether.”
With that established, Onerid proceeded to go over the details of Stadeskosken's policies with regard to rituals performed as a contractor and peculiarities arising from the licensing agreement under which the Popcorn Regularization Ritual was made available for use. From that Dirant concluded that, unlike what he had concluded in the case of Branch Manager Hadolt Herafoken, knowledge of the identity of the Ritualists involved had not reached her. Hearing an outsider's view often supplied insights otherwise overlooked according to several platitudes, and so Dirant listened attentively.
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“It's all very ridiculous, but these things usually are when people who know they lack business sense let their lawyers do all their thinking,” Onerid concluded. So much for that.
A friend of Poiskops Bodan-Tin arrived to relay that extraordinary man's desire to see them all at tea, after which he and Mr. Dirant should be wet enough for an important discussion.
Though the affair seemed only a prelude to the Adabans, the attending Drastlifars enjoyed their cool noon tea for its own pleasures. They milled around rather than sitting as they did at meals, “Because sitting for tea is unlucky,” one Drastlifar explained, while another identified the custom as a regional marker and a third relied on Doctor Petarun Bavan-Ston's authoritative declarations about the seated position being bad for digestion. Why the same did not apply to other meals, the guest was unable to clarify.
Drastlifars objected to calling tea a meal, but certainly food had been laid out. There was a great deal of fruit wrapped in something else, whether lettuce, flatbread, rice, or foodstuffs unimaginable to Adabans. Except for the cornbread, which they understood intimately.
The Stanops had invited fewer guests than for dinner, few enough that the Stadeskosken crew constituted almost a quarter of them. The commander of the swift boat was there as well as a man Dirant had seen checking pipes in town during the wait for Onerid to fail in her search for the lady in charge. The master of Koshat Dreivis evidently did rotate through everyone in town.
The lucky group that day got to be gathered up by Poiskops Bodan-Tin partway through to hear an announcement it pleased him to make. He smiled with as many teeth as any man ever had and reported in his hoarse voice raised just a little that one of his nephews, a simple lad not suited for city life, had sent to say would arrive tomorrow barring the contrary intentions of the gods. The uncle's evident joy told how much less frequent such incidents were than he would have liked. Dirant wanted to blame the other Bodan-Tins for their poor conduct, but justice prevented him. As much as the wrestling clock seized his imagination, seeing it did not persuade him to spend his entire life there. A relative more familiar with it must be correspondingly less impressed. Add in the monsters of sea and swamp, and surely the occasional letter sufficed to maintain familial bonds.
Once the Stanops finished his tea, indicated by his sitting down at last, the guests aside from Dirant and Onerid dismissed themselves without a word from him. Poiskops popped right back up to signal the transition from post-tea to business. “Walk with me and I'll show you the gazebo, and whether it is placed well for the purpose is a guess easily corrected if wrong.” He began to walk out of the courtyard but halted. “There is one point better discussed here, surrounded as we are by walls short rather than tall.”
Onerid gave Dirant as arch a look as she could, which was not detestable. Both prepared themselves for the complication.
“My Dreivis deserves the latest. I hired your company for no reason farther or nearer but right there. That's the focus of my desire true, but a reason there is to rush into what otherwise might be considered longer. Certain prominent people rich in influence decided to meet and talk and make much of it, and because the honor of hosting it has fallen to me, you would be rescuing me from the very pit of thorns if you finished the installation before then, and you would lift me up to the seats of the gods if you stayed on through the conference to ensure, if you see, all kinds of things can happen, on so forth, when those of your profession, yes.”
Dirant knew exactly what he meant, and it fed the bottomless pride of the Ritualist, but there was anxiety in there too. Already he began building a case against their supposed chief negotiator for lacking the foresight to concoct an excuse for a delay if the oligarch wanted the job done in two hours or such. Yet for all that he had to face what he must. “I understand, and so what are the key points of the schedule?”
“Unless travel plans go awry, the parties will arrive in four days and begin on the fifth an occurrence of historical magnitude that many would gladly attend if they had to pay.” Poiskops held up fingers as he went, which helped Dirant make his plans even before the translation came in. “The future regions like not to be guessed at, but I expect the matter to be concluded within another five days at most, more likely three, and if we can keep from offending the magnanimous gods, one alone.”
The anxiety crept away, all the while pretending it had dropped by for one of those pear wraps instead of seeking someone to afflict. “The first matter, that is to say installation before the day given, can be done.” Dirant refrained from saying a far harder task would be to waste that much time before completing the ritual, since the Drastlifars supposedly preferred not to hear that sort of detail. “The second is more doubtful because of the whimsical, unproductive nature of the future as you yourself elucidated, Stanops. The length of time personnel may be committed to any project varies according to considerations such as the priority of the task and the other demands upon resources.”
“That's clear enough. Let us give the sun the honor of guiding us thither and not the silver lamps of night.” At last the three began their walk toward the proposed ritual site, a few minutes away as the gull glides but an hour when negotiations are implicated. “We run our own mail boat here. Rely on us to communicate with your office if necessary.”
“In that case, Stanops, Sajaitin.” Onerid floated away to write up a report.
Those two continued through the town where Dirant noticed the ring which moved around them. Men, women, and children comprised it, all of them eager to assist the oligarch at the slightest sign of need. That reserve of manpower maintained a distance so as not to overhear a conversation conducted at a reasonable volume, showing the oligarch the same deference city folk gave rowdies. Perhaps there was a lesson about power and authority in that.