pedestrian alleys and shops of the old Caravanserai area as it would fit.
“Well, that’s an improvement,” murmured Lady ghem Estif, not sounding too grudging. “This part of town was considered a pestilential death-trap, in my day.”
Ivan decided not to mention being born there, for now. Let someone else tell that story, this round. “The last Barrayaran I knew who’d been alive during the Occupation died, what…” Ivan had to stop and work it out in his head. “Eighteen years ago.” When he’d been barely more than seventeen. Was it really more than half his lifetime ago that his ancient and formidable great-uncle General Piotr had passed to his fathers? Um…yeah, it was.
A drive past the fully modern Ops building drew no special reaction, a little to Ivan’s disappointment, but Lady ghem Estif sat up and peered more avidly as they drew away from the river. The Baronne, seated next to her, and the Baron observed her-pleasure? it was hard to tell, on that reserved face-with interest. “This was close to the edge of town, in the days of the Ninth Satrapy,” she remarked.
“Vorbarr Sultana is built out for a couple dozen kilometers more, now,” Ivan said. “In every direction. You really ought to see some of the recent outer rings, before you go.”
The big groundcar nipped into a rare parking space just opening up, and sighed to a halt. Christos’s jovial voice, which had been supplying sporadic commentary throughout the zigzag tour of the Old Town, came over the intercom from the front compartment.
“Here we are, Lady ghem Estif. I had to research back quite a way to find mention of the old place. The Cetagandans had seized it from an old Vor family that had taken up with the Resistance, and used it as a guest house during the time they held the capital, due to its extensive grounds and gardens, I gather. It was occupied again by one of the opposition factions, leveled during the rump fighting, and seized again by Emperor Yuri. The old Vor family never did get the property back, but I guess they were mostly dead by then. But this is definitely the exact site of Ladderbeck Close.”
All three senior Arquas-well, two Arquas and one ghem Estif-were staring wide-eyed out the side of the canopy, craning their necks.
“What,” said the Baronne in a choked voice, “is that great ugly building?”
At least something in Old Vorbarr Sultana architecture had finally riveted their attention, even if it was one of the most notoriously awful buildings in town. Ivan explained cheerfully, “It’s one of the works of Emperor Yuri Vorbarra’s megalomanic architect, the infamous Lord Dono Vorrutyer. He got up five major structures before he was stopped, they say. Not to be confused with the current count of the same name, by the way. Dono-the-architect was a relative of Byerly’s, too, though not a direct ancestor, no doubt to By’s relief. By can tell you more tales of him over dinner later. That gigantic eyesore is Cockroach Central itself-and it’s called that by people who work there-ImpSec HQ. Barrayaran Imperial Security Headquarters.”
A long silence fell in the back of the groundcar.
“I don’t suppose it’s for sale,” said Tej, in a strange, small voice. “Or rent.”
Ivan laughed. “Back when Simon Illyan ran it, he said he’d sell it for a Betan dollar, if only he could find a Betan with a dollar, and no taste. And if only the Council of Counts would build him a new building, which they wouldn’t. Mamere says he kept a holo of the Investigatif Federale building on Escobar-tall thing, all glass-on the wall of his inner office for a while, the way some men would keep pinups.”
“My, my, my,” said Shiv Arqua.
He kept staring back over his shoulder for a long time, as the groundcar eased into the traffic and pulled away.
Chapter Sixteen
It wasn’t till the whole party was rising in the lift tube to Lady Vorpatril’s penthouse that Tej whispered to Ivan, “Um, I didn’t get a chance to explain about Simon yet.”
“You haven’t…?” Ivan twitched. “What were you talking about all that time?”
“Not that.”
Ivan stepped out into the lift-tube foyer, trailing senior Arquas like ducklings. “Well, too late.” Simon would just have to explain himself, this round. Or not, as he chose. The marquetry doors slid open before them-someone had been on the watch. Mamere and Simon were both standing together waiting in her spacious hallway. From the wide living room beyond, a clink of glassware and murmur of voices assured Ivan that Rish and Byerly had managed to shepherd the rest of the family safely here.
Tej stepped bravely forward. “Dada, Baronne, Grandmama, I would like to introduce you to Ivan Xav’s mother, Lady Alys Vorpatril, and my stepfather-in-law, Captain Simon Illyan, Imperial Service, retired. Lady Alys, Simon: Lady Moira ghem Estif, Shiv and Udine ghem Estif Arqua-Baron and Baronne Cordonah.” A slightly defiant tone to that last claim; retired was not quite the word for their current status.
Simon cast Tej a strange surprised smile, as he stepped forward alongside Lady Alys to murmur suitable greetings after her to the offworlder guests. The Baronne didn’t turn a hair as he bowed over her fingers, nor did Lady ghem Estif, but the Baron, after a surprised glance aside at Tej, advanced to shake Simon’s proffered hand heartily.
“Ah, that Simon Illyan, I do believe-the ImpSec chief with the cyborg brain?” said Arqua, in his deep, carrying voice. “Your fame has reached even to the Whole. Ivan and Tej were just now showing us your ImpSec building. Very, ah, large, isn’t it. One of the sights of Vorbarr Sultana, they tell me.”
“Not my building anymore, nor my brain either, I’m afraid. My memory chip was removed four years ago,” said Illyan. “Upon the occasion of my retirement.”
Well, that left out a few details. Ivan took note.
“Ah,” said Arqua. “Sounds a bit drastic, as exit interviews go. My condolences.”
“Hardly that. I was ecstatic, personally.”
“Were you.” The grip finally loosened, and Ivan wondered if they’d been doing that who-can-break-whose- bones-first thing. Seeing the two men-the two aging fathers-in-law? — face-to-face for the first time was a trifle alarming. Arqua was stout, dark, intense despite his fatigue, openly dangerous. Simon was slight, graying, self- effacing…quietly dangerous. An effect not at all lessened-the reverse, really-by knowing that he wasn’t quite as mentally reliable as he’d used to be…Ivan was obscurely relieved when, greetings completed and their wraps removed by his mother’s efficient servants, they spilled into the living room and the family reunion.
Ivan dropped back to murmur to Simon, “Why did you grin like that at Tej, just now?”
A ghost of that pleased smile flitted over Simon’s face. “Because that was the first time I’d been introduced as anybody’s stepfather. Oddly flattering.”
“Was…that something you’d wanted, sir?” Ivan asked, taken aback. For all the other people who’d made assumptions about Ivan’s faux-filial relationship with his mother’s partner, Ivan realized in sudden retrospect, Simon himself never had. Not once.
“As your lady mother would say, that would not be correct. Which is no one’s fault”- or business flitted past, implied-“but our own. Although”-a brief, sideways hesitation, surely not diffident? — “I could likely do without all the mumbled ums.”
Um, Ivan started to say, then thought better of it. He converted it to an “Oh.” Did Simon care about that? Evidently. Ivan’s mental review of all the awkward, smart-ass ways he’d introduced Simon these past four years was interrupted, thankfully, by Byerly sauntering over.
By gave Simon an apologetic nod. It was always a little fascinating to watch By’s habitual smarmy irony so thoroughly purged, not only from his expression, but from his body language, around the former ImpSec chief. Illyan plainly still unnerved By to the marrow of his bones, even though By had once worked for him-or was that, because he had once worked for him?
Ivan’s glance took inventory of Arquas and Jewels, gathered around the drinks trolley or gazing out the windows into the softening winter dusk. “I see you managed to get them all here. Mamere find a bus?”
“A luxurious sort of ground-barge, yes. We didn’t lose a single Arqua overboard,” Byerly said, with mock pride. “Not for lack of their trying. You have a lot of new in-laws Ivan.”
“Yeah, noticed that.” Ivan nabbed a drink, with a smile of intense gratitude to his mother’s servitor, a regular from that catering service Lady Alys called on for very-high-end governmental receptions, when she wasn’t using
