Captain Vorpatril's alliance

Tej said slowly, “Yes…my mother loved being the Baronne, you see. Building the House was her passion. And in her way, I suppose, she loved us, and naturally wanted us to have this great thing she’d found, too. Except…I wasn’t her. It was like…if she could just fix me into being her, then she could shower me with the gifts she so valued.”

Ivan winced. “Ah.” It was kind of appalling, how little trouble he had following that whole line of reasoning. On both sides. Not sure what to say, he slipped an arm around Tej and hugged her in. Warm and soft, why didn’t anyone value warm and soft…?

“So will we get to meet your cousin?” asked Rish. Or, possibly, prodded?

“Not sure. He’s an Imperial Auditor now‑that’s sort of a high‑level government trouble‑shooter‑so he goes out of town at erratic intervals to find trouble to shoot. I should warn you, if we do go to Vorkosigan House, it’s knee‑deep in infants these days. Twins, speaking of overachieving. They offer to let you hold one as if it was some kind of treat.” Ivan shuddered. “And they leak, and make the most horrible noises.”

“I never had much to do with infants,” said Tej. “Comes of being the youngest, I guess.”

“Yeah‑only child, here,” said Ivan.

“Whereas I,” said Rish coolly, “was the babysitter.” She leaned back and stretched her legs, propping her feet on the seat opposite, beyond Tej. “I expect we’ll cope.”

Chapter Ten

Tej was plainly distracted and unnerved by her new surroundings, but by diligent efforts, Ivan won back her full attention in bed that night, and a smile when he brought her coffee in the morning. He had not guessed that any of his morning practice placating bleary‑eyed admirals would transfer, but that one did. His plans for a post‑coffee rematch were thwarted, however, by a call from his mother informing him that she was sending Cristos and her formidable dresser‑cum‑secretary to escort Tej and Rish on a hunting‑and‑gathering expedition for Barrayaran garb. Granted, the subject had come up last night, but he’d thought it was small talk.

“Is it safe to go out?” asked Rish, both dubiously and longingly. The building had a well‑equipped exercise room on the second floor, but being immured inside was perhaps a little too much like being trapped aboard the JP‑9 all over again.

“Gotta be. Mamere and her people enjoy more attentive security than any Jacksonian House lording could ever hope to buy. On account of what she’s done for Illyan, y’know. ImpSec worships her, at least the old guard. And the newbies are all their daunted subordinates.”

“I didn’t notice the coverage, last night,” said Tej.

“You wouldn’t. And neither will anyone who attempts to stalk you, till it’s too late. You should go,” he told the women, wondering why he wasn’t more relieved to be let off the hook as sartorial escort. “You won’t get a better native guide, except maybe Mamere herself.” Who had duties at the Residence this morning or else, she had implied, she would have undertaken the task personally.

The middle‑aged and gimlet‑eyed dresser expanded upon this. “Clothing is a cultural and social language,” she intoned, when shepherding the women out. “And local dialects can be tricky for an outsider to interpret. We must make sure your dress says what you mean it to say, and not something unintended.”

Tej and Rish, at least, looked very impressed. If they were like every other woman Ivan had known, he was certain to be treated to a fashion show afterward anyway. This was much easier than tagging along, as all he had to do was approve each garment with suitable compliments, instead of frantically trying to guess which choices they wanted him to endorse, with the distinct hazard of guessing wrong. Much more restful.

He sent them off with a clear conscience and turned to his strangely silent and empty flat. He had three weeks of personal correspondence and other chores to catch up on that had not been urgent enough to be tightbeamed after him to Komarr, which was most of it.

He was half an hour into these tasks when a call came in over his comconsole which, after a glance at the sender ID, he sent to voice delay. After another few moments, the display above his vid plate flickered and gave way to a smiling, or at least smirking, face he didn’t especially want to deal with. Damned Imperial Auditor override…

“Hi, Miles,” Ivan sighed, and waited. No point in stirring any waters not already roiling.

“Sorry for the interruption”‑Miles did not look in the least sorry‑“but I must not be behindhand in conveying my thanks for the extremely thoughtful gift you forwarded from Komarr. Ekaterin actually wondered if she should put flowers in it, next time you came over, but I suggested target practice. Or passing it along to the twins, which might be an even faster way to dispose of it. At which point the light dawned, and she looked very relieved.”

“Hey, it took me half an hour to find that vase!” said Ivan in mock‑indignation.