Captain Vorpatril's alliance

“Oh, it didn’t involve you. Yet. Though it was clear that you and Ivan Xav weighed in his calculations.”

“What did it involve?”

“Step One of our program here‑the site mapping. Simon bet we couldn’t do it in any way. Undetected by ImpSec, that is, on ImpSec’s doorstep. I bet we could.” He added after a moment’s reflection, “As long as one doesn’t count Simon himself as ImpSec, of course. We won.”

“What did we win?” she asked suspiciously.

“Round Two. Which Simon thinks Star is pursuing as we speak. The Mycoborer, fortunately, still remains outside the realm of his otherwise far‑reaching imagination.”

“Oh. So‑every round you win buys us another round?”

“Yes. But we only need two. Simon’s thinking three or four.”

Weasels, that was term Ivan Xav kept using. But which old weasel was the, the weaseliest?

Maybe Simon simply wanted Lady Alys all to himself. Was Ivan Xav’s protracted bachelorhood holding up Simon’s own marriage, the way it had evidently been holding up Lady Alys’s longed‑for release from the burning ritual? Maybe he thought he was trading not Tej, but Ivan Xav‑to be carried off by Clan Arqua to the Whole as a prize, or what? Would the The Gregor allow that‑or applaud it? The emperor had his own sons now‑maybe Ivan Xav was reclassified as redundant, an heir in excess of need. An embarrassing leftover, and everyone relieved to have him be shunted out of the way.

Tej didn’t know whether to be distressed or really, really annoyed. With the whole lot of them, Arquan and Barrayaran both.

Dada, watching whatever parade of emotions was passing across her face, said a bit plaintively, “I’d do my best for you, honey, but you have to give your old Dada a clue.”

“If I get one,” she sighed, “I’ll share.”

His belly jumped in a muffled, pained laugh that didn’t make it out his mouth. Women, eh, didn’t quite appear as a caption over his head, but it might as well have. She wanted to return, Men, ugh!

And if it would help Clan Arqua to sell what was already given away, didn’t she have an obligation to allow that much?…Especially as it might get her off the hook for further demands. It wouldn’t make any practical difference to her and Ivan Xav‑would it? Damn it, now I’m all confused. Again. It was hardly a help that Ivan Xav didn’t make her crazy when everyone else around them was doing so good a job.

Star emerged from the door of the engineering firm, looking self‑satisfied. She and Dada slid into the back for a short report on her fake tunneling bid. Tej started the groundcar again and pulled into the street.

“Oh, about Ivan Xav,” Tej called over her shoulder. “He was going to ask Admiral Desplains for some personal leave. He hopes to get tomorrow free. To join us.”

“Oh, hell,” said Star. “Rotten timing. Why couldn’t he have waited till next week? What will we do with him?”

“The same drill as with his friend Byerly,” Dada assured her, unmoved. “Not a problem.”

Speak for yourself, Dada.

Tej did her best to slip away without him, the morning of Ivan’s first day off, but he cornered her in the kitchen.

“Driving again?” he asked amiably, sucking coffee. “What say I go with you?”

“It’ll be boring,” she told him, drinking her own coffee faster. “Who would have thought I’d ever be saying that about Vorbarr Sultana traffic? Live and learn.”

“I’m never bored with you.”

She flashed him a nervous smile. “And there wouldn’t be room.”

“I don’t mind squeezing up.”

He wondered how many rounds she’d go on this hedging, and had a brief insight into Simon’s fascination with the clan, but she gave over the argument and let him follow her down the street to the Arqua hotel. There, he discovered, she’d cannily sited reinforcements, and he somehow, without intending it, found himself assigned to drive another set of Arquas around on an assortment of errands that extended into a lingering lunch. They were joined in this meal by Byerly, trailing Emerald and looking thwarted. As diversions went, Ivan supposed it displayed a certain efficiency.

The polite runaround continued all day in this vein. It was only by chance, miscalculation, and a couple of social lies that Ivan managed to cross paths with his wife in his flat once more, at nearly bedtime. She was dressing‑not for bed, which more usually involved undressing‑in some casual, sturdy clothes that looked more suitable for a walk in the woods than a night on the town.

“Oh,” she said, looking around in surprise as he came in.

“Hi, beautiful.” He kissed her hello; even her return kiss felt evasive. “What’s up?”

“Just a few more chores for my family. Don’t wait up for me.”

“At this hour? You should be in bed. With me.” He nuzzled her neck; she slipped out of his grasp, which he just managed not to let become a clutch.

“We might not have much longer together on Barrayar. Pidge is having trouble getting the visa extension.”

Good. Wait, not good. “That doesn’t include you, you know. Lady Vorpatril.”

“Uh…” Her evasiveness was shading into panic, in her eyes. It wasn’t all that amusing.

“Tej,” he sighed. “We need to talk.”