Irresistible Forces

block and was her bride-gift to m'lord, was among other things sheltered from view of the cross streets by walls and banks. They dodged around the barricades temporarily barring public access till after the wedding.

'Oh, my,' said Taura as they turned down the winding walk descending between curving snow hillocks. The chilly brook, its water running black and silky between feathery fingers of ice, snaked gracefully from one corner to the other. The peach-colored dawn light glimmered off the ice on the young trees and shrubs in the blue shadows. 'Why, it's beautiful. I didn't expect a garden to be so pretty in winter. What are those men doing?'

A crew was unloading some float pallets piled high with boxes of all sizes, marked fragile. Another pair was going around with water hoses, misting selected branches marked with yellow tags to create yet more delicate, shimmering icicles. The shapes of the native Barrayaran vegetation grew luminous and exotic with this silver- gilding.

'They're putting out all the ice sculptures. M'lord ordered ice flowers and sculptured creatures and things to fill up the garden, since all the real plants are under the snow, pretty much. And fresh snow to be added, too, if there isn't enough. They can't put out't' real live flowers for the ceremony till the very last gasp, late tomorrow morning.'

'Good grief, he's having an outdoor garden wedding in this weather? Is that — a Barrayaran thing, is it?'

'Um, no. Not exactly. I believe m'lord originally was shooting for fall, but Madame Vorsoisson wasn't ready yet. But he'd got his heart set on getting married in the garden, because it was hers, y'see. So he is, by damn, going to have the wedding in the garden. The idea is people will assemble in Vorkosigan House, then troop out here for the vows, then scurry back into the ballroom for the reception and the food and dancing and all.' And the frostbite and hypothermia treatments. 'It'll be all right if the weather stays clear, I guess.' The backstairs commentary on the potential disasters inherent in this scenario, Roic decided to keep to himself. Vorkosigan House's staff seemed united in their determination to make the eccentric scheme work for m'lord, anyway.

Taura's eyes glinted in the level dawn light now filtering between the buildings of the surrounding cityscape. 'I can hardly wait to try out the dress Lady Alys got up for me to wear to the ceremony. Barrayaran ladies' clothes are so interesting. But complicated. In a way, I suppose they're another kind of uniform, but I don't know whether I feel like a recruit or an enemy spy in them. Well, I don't suppose the real ladies will shoot me in any case. So much to learn about how to go on — though I suppose it all seems ridiculously easy to you. You grew up with it.'

'I didn't grow up with this.' Roic waved a hand toward the imposing stone pile of Vorkosigan House rising above the high, bare trees on its grounds. 'My father is just a construction hand in Hassadar — that's the Vorkosigan's District capital city, just this side of the Dendarii Mountains, a few hundred kilometers south of here. Lots of building going on there. He offered to apprentice me to the trade, but I got the chance to become a street guard, and I took it — sort of an impulse, truth to tell. I was eighteen, didn't know up from down. Sure learned a lot after that.'

'What does a street guard guard? Streets?'

'Among other things. The whole city, really. You do what needs done. Sort out traffic, before or after it's a big bent pile. Deal with upset people's problems, try to keep 'em from murdering their relatives, or clean up the mess after if you can't. Trace stolen property, if you get lucky. I did a lot of night foot patrol. You learn a lot about a place on foot, up close. I learned how to handle stunners and shock-sticks and big, hostile drunks. I was getting pretty good at it, I thought, after a few years.'

'How did you end up here?'

'Oh… there was a little incident…' He gave an embarrassed shrug. 'Some crazed loon tried to shoot up Hassadar Square at rush hour with an auto-needler. I, um, took it away from him.'

Her brows went up. 'With a stunner?'

'No, unfortunately, I was off duty at the time. Had to do it by hand.'

'A little hard to get up close and personal with someone firing a needler.'

'That was a problem, yeah.'

Her lips curved up, or at least the ivory hooks lengthened.

'It seemed to make perfect sense at the moment, though later I wondered what't' hell I'd been thinking. I don't think I was thinking. At any rate, he only killed five and not fifty-five. People seemed to think it was a big deal, but I'm sure it's nothing compared to what you've seen out there.'

His glance upward was meant to indicate the distant stars, though the sky was now a paling blue.

'Hey, I may be big, but I'm not needler-proof. I hate the shrieky sound when the razor-strands unwind and whiz around, even though I know in my head that those are the ones that missed.'

'Yeah,' Roic said in heartfelt agreement. 'Anyways, after that there was a stupid fuss, and someone recommended me to m'lord's own armsman commander, Pym, and here I am.' He glanced around the sparkling fairy garden. 'I think I was a better fit in the Hassadar alleys.'

'Naw, Miles always did like having big backup. Saves a lot of small-scale grief. Though the large-scale grief we still had to take as it came.'

He asked after a moment, 'How did you bodyguard, um, m'lord?'

'Such a funny way of thinking of him. To me, he'll always be the little admiral. Mostly, I just loomed at people. If I had to, I smiled.'

'But your smile's really kind of nice,' he protested, and managed not to add the once you get used to it out loud. He'd get the hang of this savoir faire thing yet.

'Oh, no. The other smile.' She demonstrated, her lips wrinkling back, her jaw thrusting out. Roic had to admit, it was a much wider smile. And, um, sharper. They were just treading past a workman on the rising path; he gasped and fell backward into a snowbank. With lightning reflexes, Taura reached past Roic and caught the heavy, life-size ice sculpture of a crouching fox before it hit the pavement and shattered into shards. Roic lifted the gibbering man to his feet and dusted snow off his parka, and Taura handed back the elegant ornament with a compliment upon its artistry.

Roic managed not to choke with muffled laughter till they both had their backs to the fellow, heading away. 'See what you mean. Did it ever not work?'

'Occasionally. Next step was to pick up the recalcitrant one by the neck. Since my arms were invariably longer than theirs, they'd swing like mad but couldn't connect. Very frustrating for them.'

'And after that?'

She grinned. 'Stunner, by preference.'

'Heh.Yep.'

They'd fallen unconsciously into an easy side-by-side pace, tracing loops around the garden paths. Talking shop, Roic thought. 'What mass d'you lift?'

'With or without adrenaline?'

'Oh, without, say.'

'Two hundred fifty kilos, with a good grip and a good angle.'

He emitted a respectful whistle. 'If you ever want to give up mercenary-ing, I can think of a fire fighting cadre might could welcome you. M'brother's in one, down Hassadar way. Though come to think of it, m'lord'd be a more powerful reference.'

'Now, there's an idea I'd never thought of.' She pursed her long lips, and her brows bent in a quizzical curve. 'But, no. I expect I'll be, as you say, mercenary-ing till… for the rest of my life. I like seeing new planets. I like seeing this one. I could never have imagined it.'

'How many have you seen?'

'I think I've lost count. I used to know. Dozens. How many have you seen?'

'Just't' one,' he admitted. 'Though hanging around m'lord, this one keeps getting wider till I'm almost dizzy. More complicated. Does that make sense?'

She threw back her head and laughed. 'That's our Miles. Admiral Quinn always said she'd follow him halfway to hell just to find out what happened next.'

'Wait — this Quinn you all keep talking about is a lady admiral?'

'She was a lady commander when I first met her. Second-sharpest tactical brain it's ever been my privilege to know. Things may get tight, following Elli Quinn, but you know they won't get stupid.