A Civil Campaign

not be pushed into taking Nikki. Trying to take Nikki . And she could stop him—how? She was legally overmatched before she even began. So don't begin .

She chose her words with utmost caution. 'So what do you mean by straightened out?'

Hugo and Vassily looked at each other uncertainly. Vassily ventured, 'I beg your pardon?'

'I cannot know if I have toed your line unless you show me where you've drawn it.'

Hugo protested, 'That's not very kindly put, Kat. We have your interests at heart.'

'You don't even know what my interests are.' Not true, Vassily had his thumb right down on the most mortal one. Nikki.Eat rage, woman. She had used to be expert at swallowing herself, during her marriage. Somehow she'd lost the taste for it.

Vassily groped, 'Well . . . I'd certainly wish to be assured Nikki was not being exposed to persons of undesirable character.'

She granted him a thin smile. 'No problem. I shall be more than happy to entirely avoid Alexi Vormoncrief in the future.'

He gave her a pained look. 'I was referring to Lord Vorkosigan. And his political and personal set. At least—at least until this very dark cloud is cleared from his reputation. After all, the man is accused of murdering my cousin .'

Vassily's outrage was dutiful clan loyalty, not personal grief, Ekaterin reminded herself. If he and Tien had met more than three times in their lives it was news to her. 'Excuse me,' she said steadily. 'If Miles is not to be charged—and I can't think he will be, on this—how may he be cleared, in your view? What has to happen?'

Vassily appeared momentarily baffled.

Hugo put in tentatively, 'I don't want you exposed to corruption, either, Kat.'

'You know, Hugo, it's the strangest thing,' Ekaterin said genially to him, 'but somehow Lord Vorkosigan has overlooked sending me invitations to any of his orgies. I'm quite put out. Do you suppose it's not the orgy season in Vorbarr Sultana yet?' She bit back further words. Sarcasm was not a luxury she—or Nikki—could afford.

Hugo rewarded this sally with a flat-lipped frown. He and Vassily gave one another a long look, each so obviously trying to divest the dirty work onto his companion that Ekaterin would have laughed, if it hadn't been so painful. Vassily finally muttered weakly, 'She's your sister . . .'

Hugo took a breath. He was a Vorvayne; he knew his duty, by God. All us Vorvaynes know our duty. And we'll keep on doing it till we die. No matter how stupid or painful or counterproductive it is, yes! After all, look at me. I kept oath for eleven years to Tien. . . .

'Ekaterin, I think the burden falls on me to say this. Till this murder rumor business is settled, I'm flat requesting you not to encourage or, or see this Miles Vorkosigan fellow again. Or I will have to agree Vassily is completely justified in removing Nikki from the situation.'

Removing Nikki from his mother and her paramour, you mean. Nikki had lost one parent this year, and lost all his friends in the move back to Barrayar. He was just starting to find the city he'd been dropped into less strange, to begin to unfold in tentative new friendships, to lose that wooden caution that had marred his smile for a while. She imagined him ripped away again, denied the chance to see her—for it would come down to that, wouldn't it? it was she, not the capital, Vassily suspected of corruption—plopped down in the third strange place in a year among unknown adults who regarded him not as a child to be delighted in, but as a duty to be discharged . . . no. No.

'Excuse me. I am willing to cooperate. I just haven't been able to compel either of you to say what I'm supposed to be cooperating with. I perfectly see what you are worried about, but how is it to be settled ? Define settled . If it's till Miles's enemies stop saying nasty things about him, it could be a long wait. His line of work routinely pits him against the powerful. And he's not the sort to back down from any counterattack.'

Hugo said, a bit more feebly, 'Avoid him for a time, anyway.'

'A time. Good. Now we're getting somewhere. How long exactly?'

'I . . . can hardly say.'

'A week?'

Vassily, sounding a bit offended, put in, 'Certainly more than that!'

'A month?'

Hugo rolled his hands in a frustrated gesture. 'I don't know, Kat! Till you forget these odd notions you have about him, I suppose.'

'Ah. Till the end of time. Hm. I can't quite decide if that's specific enough, or not. I think not.' She took a breath, and said reluctantly, because it was such a long time and yet likely to sound so plausible to them, 'To the end of my mourning year?'

Vassily said, 'At the very minimum!'

'Very well.' Her eyes narrowed, and she smiled, because smiling would do more good than howling. 'I shall take you at your name's word, Vassily Vorsoisson.'

'I, I, uh . . .' said Vassily, unexpectedly cornered. 'Well . . . something should be settled by then. Surely.'

I gave up too much, too soon. I should have tried for Winterfair. She added in sudden afterthought, 'I reserve the right to tell him—and tell him why—myself, however. In person.'

'Is that wise, Kat?' asked Hugo. 'Better to call him on the comconsole.'

'Anything less would be cowardly.'

'Can't you send him a note?'

'Absolutely not. Not with this . . . news.' What a vile return that would be, for Miles's own declaration sealed in his heart's blood.

At her defiant stare, Hugo weakened. 'One visit, then. A brief one.'

Vassily shrugged reluctant acquiescence.

An uncomfortable silence fell, after this. Ekaterin realized she ought to invite the pair of them to lunch, except that she didn't feel like inviting them to continue breathing. Yes, and she should exert herself to charm and soothe Vassily. She rubbed her temples, which were throbbing. When Vassily made a feeble motion toward escape from the Professora's parlor by mumbling about things to do , she did not impede them.

She locked the front door on their retreating forms, and returned to curl up in her uncle's chair, unable to decide whether to go lie down, or pace, or weed. Anyway, the garden was still stripped of weeds from her last upset about Miles. It would be an hour yet before Aunt Vorthys returned from her class, and Ekaterin could pour out her fury and panic into her ear. Or her lap.

To Hugo's credit, she reflected, he hadn't seemed enticed by the promise of a Countess's place for his little sister at any price, nor had he suggested that was the prize that