Ambassador Morwen Vash is a poised human woman whose presence seems to arrange the room around her. She has sharp grey eyes that rarely blink during negotiations, and dark hair pinned back with bronze bone pins shaped like tiny open hands. Her deep indigo robes are made from flowing linen with a dry, papery texture, and their hems and lapels are embroidered with hundreds of fired-clay rectangular tablets bearing miniature diplomatic seals and covenant clauses. The tablets click softly when she walks, like restrained applause. A slim silver stylus rests in her sleeve. She moves with almost unnerving economy, never hurrying and never yielding space unless she has chosen the new position herself. The unexpected contradiction is that her immaculate robes are visibly repaired at the elbows with humble ochre thread, each mend neat but unmistakably domestic. She refuses to replace them because her late sister made the repairs.