Captain Vorpatril's alliance

“No, listen…” Ivan described his excursion yesterday to the park in front of ImpSec, the dance practice, Simon’s security street theater, and what seemed the pertinent bits of his strange conversation this morning with the Baron and the Baronne. By sat up and clasped his hands between his knees, listening hard.

“Simon and Shiv have some deal going on, I’d swear it,” said Ivan. “Or something. Going back to that first night in Simon’s study.”

“And they think there’s something buried, where, under ImpSec HQ? What, for God’s sake?”

“I don’t know. Something big enough to fund a small war. And old enough…I hesitate to guess how old, but what say a hundred years? Occupation, maybe? Or should I say Ninth Satrapy?”

“That’s before ImpSec was built.”

“Simon ought to know.” But did he remember?

“If Simon Illyan is up to something, we shouldn’t bump his elbow,” By declared firmly.

“I’m…not so sure.”

By’s eyes narrowed. “I thought he was just playing befuddled.”

So, By had spotted that. Good on By. “He does do that. He’s got half of Vorbarr Sultana believing he’s as addled as an egg, and my mother his caretaker. And the people they report to.”

“Right…”

“But sometimes he…shorts out, just a little. You can tell when it’s real, because it’s the only time he tries to hide it.”

“Oh.” By frowned. “I suppose you would know. Seeing him close up and all.”

“Mostly it’s seeing my mother. She gets this kind of brittle look around her eyes, when she’s covering for him.”

“But that’s just little memory lapses, right?”

“It’s Illyan. You want to try to guess what goes on in his head?” Ivan gave it a beat. “Or do you want to go ask?” That’s what Simon had once told Ivan to do, after all, in so many words. If Barrayar’s Foremost Former Authority gave you advice…

“No,” said By frankly. He hesitated. “But I’ll go if you’ll go with me.”

“What are we, a couple of women getting up a posse to go to the lav?”

“Why do women travel in herds like that, anyway?”

Ivan said glumly, “Delia Galeni, back when she was Delia Koudelka, once told me they go together to critique their dates.”

“Really?” By blinked.

“Not sure. She might have just been trying to wind me up, at the time.”

“Ah. Sounds like Delia.” Byerly waved a limp hand. “All right. Lead on.”

Ivan sighed, and pulled him up.

Then made him help eat the dehydrated dinner first, because Ivan had cooked it himself, dammit. But definitely without the seducing part. He left the dishes in the sink.

Chapter Nineteen

Ivan drove By to his mother’s building in his two‑seater; despite, or perhaps because of, the heavy rain, the city traffic was relatively light. To Ivan’s secret relief, they found Simon alone for the evening. Mamere had gone off to the Imperial Residence to help coordinate some sort of feed, hosted by Gregor and Laisa, for those galactic diplomats By had complained of‑a crowd guaranteed to clear a buffet table much the way Time of Isolation cavalry charges had cleared street riots. Ivan was only surprised neither of them had been roped in as native Barrayaran decor, as Mamere frequently did unto them for these things.

“Huh,” said Simon, looking them both over when they were guided into his study by the maidservant playing porter tonight. “You two again.” He set aside his reader, and took his slippered feet down from the hassock that had supported them in extended comfort. He was dressed in shirtsleeves and a sleeveless sweater, making him look in the lamplight like someone’s retired schoolteacher‑uncle. “Close the door, would you please, Marie?”

“Yes, sir. Should I bring drinks?”

By looked briefly hopeful, but Ivan said firmly, “No, thank you, Marie.”

“Very good, Lord Ivan.” She withdrew, and the door shut rather more than firmly. It was extraordinarily quiet in this chamber, once that lock clicked. Byerly swallowed, and Ivan thought irritably, Welcome to Chez Vorpatril. Please, take a seat. I will be your spine for this evening… Not his favorite role under any circumstances.

“Well, gentlemen.” Simon waved genially to chairs, and tented his hands above his lap. “What brings you to me this rainy night? Why aren’t you out squiring your young ladies?”

By grimaced and barely shifted the comfy chairs; Ivan dragged them closer to their host, on whom he felt an unwanted responsibility to keep an eye. By sat on the edge of his.

“Sir,” By began, atop Ivan’s, “Simon…” They both stopped and waved each other on.

Ivan began again, since By seemed determined to outwait him. “Simon. What do you know that we don’t about what the Arqua clan is up to in front of ImpSec? Or under ImpSec, as it may be?”

Simon’s eyes crinkled, just slightly. “I can’t guess, Ivan. What do you two know?”