Captain Vorpatril's alliance

A huge archaic‑looking stone pile of a mansion‑four stories high‑rose above the Earth‑import trees, almost bare of leaves in this turning season. Ivan drove in under a porte‑cochere, parked, raised the canopy, and helped Rish and Tej extricate themselves. The dresser’s tutorial on what styles a woman wore for what hours and occasions had been swift but thorough. The Barrayaran‑style calf‑length afternoon skirts were no more awkward to manage than Komarran loose trousers, Tej was pleased to discover; with some practice, they might even prove more comfortable. The faintest vibration from an invisible force screen shielding the house faded momentarily, carved wooden double doors swung wide, and yet another man in brown and silver motioned them through into a spacious, two‑story‑high entry hall. An elaborate wooden staircase with a polished banister swept down from a gallery above. Wide archways opened to the right and the left, with a lesser archway under the gallery straight ahead.

Rish stopped short; Tej nearly tripped over her. The hall was stunningly paved in a marvelous colored mosaic like a stone garden underfoot, wildly proliferating with plants and flowers, insects and small creatures peeking from the leaves. The stonework was so fine it looked at first glance like a master’s painting in oils. Tej half‑expected the plants to crunch underfoot, giving up strange perfumes. The walls carried the theme skyward, with meticulously hand‑painted vines and flowers madly twining, as if the living forest on the floor surged up to reach for the light.

Rish was riveted. “ Oh,” she said. “I could dance the most amazing dance across this…”

A shrill squeal sounded from the right, and a man’s light, amused voice, “’Ware escapee!”

Ivan Xav jerked and swung around. He muttered in alarm under his breath, “Oh, God, they’re moving on their own now.” From the archway, a stark naked boy‑child not much over two feet high toddled determinedly, as fast as his little legs could carry him. He was pursued by an even more startling figure. The man swinging a cane who limped after the child was less than five feet tall, shockingly short for an adult Barrayaran male, which he obviously was. Dark hair neatly cut, a slightly oversized head set on a short neck, faintly lined face, hunched shoulders, fine white shirt, gray trousers and matching jacket‑and if Tej had thought Alys and her Simon had borne a palpable presence, this man’s authority filled the hall, drawing the eye away even from the astonishing floor and the happily shrieking child thumping across it.

The toddler stopped dead, staring up at the strangers. No, staring at Rish. “Ooh,” he cooed, mouth falling open in flattering wonder.

“Ivan, grab Sasha,” the short man ordered, a trifle out of breath.

Ivan Xav stepped forward and gingerly scooped up the child, holding him out well away from his body and handing him off as quickly as possible to the short man. The toddler squirmed like a large pink starfish, reaching out toward Rish and repeating “Ooh, ooh!”

The short man informed Ivan Xav, “Sasha has learned three new tricks this week: how to divest his diaper, how to get lost in Vorkosigan House, and how to outrun me. If only he would take up talking, like his sister, I’d dub him a proper little genius.” He then, with difficulty, brought his wristcom to his lips around his unwieldy and resisting burden. “Ekaterin? Found him. Stand down your patrol. He broke cover in the dining room, but was cut off at the pass in the front hall.”

“So where is his partner in crime?” asked Ivan Xav, bending to look warily around at floor level.

“Sleeping. They take it in shifts, you know, trying to wear us down. I think they’re aiming for unconditional surrender and total world domination. But I can hire shifts too, hah!” He gave up attempting to hold the heavy wriggler and set him on the floor, where the child’s attention was caught by a bug in the mosaic; he attempted several times to pick it up and put it in his mouth, without success, and made a moue of frustration.

A tall, breathless, dark‑haired woman scuffed rapidly down the staircase. She said to the short man, “How in the world did he manage to get down the stairs without breaking his neck?”

“Crawled backward, I believe. He’s actually surprisingly cautious. I broke an arm and a leg on those same stairs, once. Well, sequentially. Different years.”

“I remember the arm,” muttered Ivan Xav. “Competitive banister‑sliding.”

The woman gathered up the boy, one arm firmly supporting his little bottom. They made a rather more proportional combination. “Hi, Ivan,” she said, and raised her brows invitingly.

Ivan Xav broke out of his infant‑induced paralysis, and said, “Miles, Ekaterin, may I make known to you my wife, Lady Tej, and her companion Rish. This is my cousin Miles and his wife Ekaterin, Lord and Lady Vorkosigan.” He peered uneasily at the child. “And his heir, Lord Sasha.”