The long talks with Kunta had stretched well into the night.
They covered a great deal of ground—our plans, the threats we were facing, the resources each side could realistically bring to the arrangement, and the boundaries of what we were willing to offer each other. It wasn't a comfortable negotiation by any stretch, but it was a productive one. Kunta was sharp and precise when she spoke about things she understood, and she listened—really listened—when we laid out the specifics of our situation. That counted for something.
By the end of it, I found myself believing her. Not completely, not without reservation—the wariness was still there, sitting quietly in the back of my mind like a pilot light that refused to go out. But I believed that she wasn't going to hurt us. Not unless something went wrong.
