Captain Vorpatril's alliance

Simon Illyan was dressed not unlike the driver, except in shades of sober cream and charcoal. He was barely taller than Lady Alys, who was surely of no more than average height for a Barrayaran woman. Thinning brown hair was succumbing to a tide of gray rising around the sides. Scans she’d seen of him from earlier in his career, always in the background of some Imperial event‑and if she’d known, she’d have paid him more attention‑had seemed to convey a sharp tension in his posture and grim expression. He smiled at her now with an amiable vagueness that went well with the slight pudge around his middle, but sat oddly with his reputation.

Lady Alys cast a look at her son that seemed to say, I’ll deal with you later, and turned to take the startled Tej’s hands in cool, slim fingers.

“Lady Tej,” she said, looking her guest in the eye as if…searching? “Welcome to my home. Congratulations on your marriage. And, I am so very sorry for your late losses.”

The last words floored Tej. No one had offered her condolences for the slaughter of her family, not one person in all the long months of their erratic flight from the Whole to here. Granted, the only people who’d known who she was were the ones trying to add her to the tally. But still, but still, but still. She gulped, breathless and trembling. Managed a constricted, “Thank you,” blinking back the blur in her eyes. Ivan Xav looked at her in concern.

With a peculiar little nod, Lady Alys squeezed her hands and released them. Ivan Xav moved in to slip an arm around her shoulders and give her an uncertain hug.

“And you too, Lapis Lazuli,” Lady Alys continued, turning to Rish, but offering more of a handshake. “Or do you prefer Rish?”

“I prefer Rish,” said Rish. “Lapis Lazuli has always been more of a stage name.”

“May I make you both known to my long‑time friend, Simon Illyan.”

Illyan, too, shook their hands in turn, his clasp firm and dry. He lingered to look Tej up and down; his smile broadened slightly. But he made no remark.

“Please, won’t you come sit down.” Lady Alys made a graceful wave toward the seats in a close conversational grouping at the room’s far end. Ivan Xav grabbed Tej’s hand and kept her by him, aiming them onto the two‑person sofa; Lady Alys and Illyan took their former chairs, and Rish perched on a rather antique‑looking carved chair with new silk upholstery. The whole room, Tej noted, was put together with a quiet, firm taste, a mixture of the old and new that complemented rather than clashed, and, oh blessings, with an impeccable eye for color. Well, Rish stood out a little.

Lady Alys touched a jeweled pin on her vest, and in a moment a staidly dressed, middle‑aged woman servant appeared trundling a sort of drinks trolley. “May we offer you an aperitif? Or there are teas.”

Tej, mind still swimming, rather blindly selected a Barrayaran wine she recognized from Admiral Desplains’s table, and Rish chose some native cordial, apparently for the strange name; the others were handed what were apparently their usual tipples without query by the servant. The glasses were small and finely‑wrought, inviting appreciation, not inebriation. The servant trundled away as discreetly as she’d entered.

Lady Alys took a sip and turned to Rish‑to give Tej time to recover herself? “Someone was kind enough to forward me a short vid of one of your performances with your fellow Jewels. Very impressive. I understand your emigration was forced upon you, but do you have plans or hopes for continuing your art in a new venue?”

Rish grimaced. “No plans, certainly. Performance arts do not mesh well with hiding for one’s life. Success requires‑and generates‑fame, not obscurity.”

Lady Alys nodded understanding. “Teaching or choreography…no, I suppose the same difficulty would arise.”

Illyan rubbed his chin, and offered, “Could you change your appearance? Cosmetic alterations to blend with the target population?”

A blue hand tightened on a black‑clad knee. “That would be repugnant to me. And…when I started to dance, people would know who I was anyway.”

He gave a conceding nod, falling back into his listening quiet.

Tej decided she’d calmed enough that her voice wouldn’t crack. She set down her glass, gripped Ivan Xav’s hand for courage, and said, “Lady Alys, you should know right away that you needn’t worry about the marriage. Ivan Xav and I will be getting a divorce.”

Ivan Xav freed his arm only to put it around her shoulders, hugging her in tight. He endorsed this: “That’s right, Mamere. Just as soon as I can catch up with Count Falco, that is.”

Lady Alys tilted her head and stared at them. “Has my son proved such an unsatisfactory husband in a mere week? Surely you should give him a longer chance.”

“Oh, no, no!” said Tej, hurrying to correct this strange misconception. “I think Ivan Xav would make a wonderful husband!”

“So I had always hoped,” murmured Lady Alys, “and yet, somehow, it seemed never to be…”