Captain Vorpatril's alliance

A very small smile curled Gregor’s lips. “It will not be all take and no give, from my, er, Imperial hands, however. To help speed your and your family’s return to the Whole, I propose to throw in, gratis, your own jumpship. Unarmed, but, I am assured, speedy.” Gregor gave a general wave of his index finger orbit‑ward.

This surprised a choke from Byerly. “Vormercier’s yacht? You’d foist that‑” he cut himself off.

“The decor, I am given to understand, is questionable; but the mechanics are sound. My inspecting engineers have guaranteed it. Vorrutyer here has traveled in it, and can so testify.”

“Yeah, it…goes.”

So long as it goes away, the quirk of Gregor’s eyebrows indicated. “I expect you can get some entertainment out of its resale, later.”

Shiv tapped his thick fingers together, looking amused for almost the first time this morning. “I’ll look forward to that.”

“The other gift I mean to give to take with you is‑my personal liaison. An experienced ImpSec surveillance agent, and, as I understand it, very nearly a son‑in‑law. Since, I believe, you have some preferences for keeping important transactions in the family.” Gregor opened his hand to Byerly, sitting in the second row next to Rish. She twisted to look at him in surprise.

This obviously wasn’t the first time By had heard this proposal from Gregor‑when the hell had they had time to meet? – but it was plain that he was still digesting it. “It’ll be all…new,” he said weakly.

Rish, recovering her composure, remarked, “I could probably help you out with that, By. Reciprocity, after all.” Shiv, turning around, eyed her in tolerant speculation.

Allegre put in, as a kind of backhanded encouragement, “Your Domestic Affairs handler has been afraid you were getting stale, Vorrutyer. He thought you needed a new challenge.”

No, I don’t! Byerly mouthed to his lap, shoulders hunching slightly. But he didn’t dare look around at Allegre while he did.

Allegre went on, “I’ll leave you and the Arquas to evolve your own plausible cover story, but at a glance, you seem spoiled for choice.” He managed a thin smile for Rish.

Shiv and Udine looked at each other. Udine glanced up. “May the two of us be excused to confer in private for a moment.”

“Of course,” said Gregor.

They retreated to the hallway; not exactly private, there were guards out there as well, but out of earshot of the room. They were gone a long time, during which there was a lot of shifting and stretching and a run on the coffee and remaining pastries, and on the adjoining lav. Allegre and Simon teamed up to have Colonel Otto rerun his colorful visual aid a few times, at various speeds. It was really hard to read Simon’s emotions, but he didn’t seem to get tired of the show.

At length, Shiv and Udine returned, to take up a united stance before Gregor.

“Gregor Vorbarra,” said Shiv, “I do believe you are a worthy grandson of your famous grandfather Ezar.” He stuck out his hand. “You have your deal.”

Meticulously, Gregor shook each of their hands in turn. “Baron. Baronne.” He couldn’t quite seem to bring himself to say thank you, under the circumstances. But he did manage, “Good luck in your future endeavors.”

Shiv, about to turn away, turned back. “Emperor Gregor. I do have one purely private favor to ask.”

A not‑quite‑nod invited him to go on.

“May I have the pleasure of informing the man known as Vigo Imola of the estimated valuation of the contents of the bunker‑in person?”

A slight hesitation, as whatever lurid visions of eleventh‑hour collusion crossed Gregor’s well‑honed imagination. Happily, his imagination didn’t stop there. A faint smile turned his lips. “Fifteen percent, was it not? I believe I see your point.” He motioned to Byerly. “Vorrutyer may escort you.”

Armsman in front and secretary trailing, Gregor paused on his way out to deal with whatever next crisis might be crowding his queue. Because a three‑planet empire delivered upset snakes by the basket‑load to this man’s office, every damned morning. Yeah‑for all the talk of men coveting the emperor’s throne, Ivan had never yet heard anyone speak of coveting his desk.

“Ivan.” Gregor’s mouth twisted. “Captain and Lady Vorpatril. I want to see you tomorrow. My secretary will call with your appointment.”

Chapter Twenty‑Five

When orders were dropped from that high up, they packed a lot of momentum when they hit ground level, in Ivan’s experience. So he wasn’t surprised when things, which had seemed to be hovering in a holding pattern for the past four days, moved fast.

Deportation was to be the cover story, it turned out, which had the added advantage of being perfectly true. Just not perfectly complete. Since the members of House Cordonah were, for their own reasons, as anxious to depart as Barrayar was to be rid of them, they swallowed the appearance of defeat and disgrace without choking, much. And also the excellent farewell luncheon smoothly supplied by Dowager Lady Vorpatril.