I barely made it in at 220.
“You have to understand.” The cultural attaché was using the high-pitched voice that meant that not only did Tyre have to understand, but that she was failing at this simple task.
Tyre was used to this from cultural-attaché-sorts, and did not take it personally. “I am trying, I promise you. Please continue.”
As always, the slightly baffled look served to soothe. “The Sureare and the Unbling, they are like – like oil and water. They do not work together, they do not talk together, they do not sit together for a fancy dinner, no matter who we are ‘honoring.'” The attaché managed to making “honoring” sound like a perversion.
Perhaps in their culture, it was. But Tyre had a job to do, and she was going to do it. “Oil and water, hrrm?”
“That is what I said, Ambassador.”
“Let us see, then. Oil and water need mustard. Somebody tangy and a little astringent who can rub up against the ‘oil.’ Would you say the ‘oil’ is the Sureare?” Tyre didn’t wait for a response. “So, that would be… the Adlyma. Invite a group of five Adlyma, say, their chiefs. And we’ll need an agitator. Pavlin Ajanae should do well. Don’t forget to limit the entourage to four.” Tyre smiled brightly at the attaché. “Or do I still not understand?”
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