your wit, if you please, Ivan. Lord Mark is neither the Emperor's Second, nor an Imperial Auditor, nor of any great experience in delicate social situations. And despite all Aral and Cordelia could do for him last year, most people still regard his position within the family as rather ambiguous. Nor is he, I'm given to understand, stable enough yet to be safely subjected to stress in very public arenas. Despite his therapy.'
'It was a
'Exert yourself,' his mother advised him brutally.
On these daunting words, the meeting broke up.
CHAPTER THREE
A cool spring drizzle misted onto Miles's hair as he stepped into the shelter of the Vorthys's doorway. In the gray air, the gaudy tile front of the house was subdued, becoming a patterned subtlety. Ekaterin had inadvertently delayed this meeting by sending him her proposed garden designs over the comconsole. Fortunately, he hadn't had to
A fleeting memory of the erotic dream from which he'd awoken this morning warmed his face. It had been a replay of his and Ekaterin's first meeting in the garden here, but in this version her welcome had taken a much more, um, exciting and unexpected turn. Except why had his stupid unconscious spent so much worry about tell-tale grass-stains on the knees of his trousers, when it could have been manufacturing even more fabulous moments of abundance for his dream-self? And then he'd woken up too damned soon. . . .
The Professora opened the door to him, and smiled a welcome. 'Come in, Miles.' She added, as he entered her hallway, 'Have I ever mentioned before how much I appreciate the fact that you call before you visit?'
Her house did not have its usual hushed, librarylike quiet. There seemed to be a party going on. Startled, Miles swiveled his head toward the archway on his left. A clink of plates and glassware and the scent of tea and apricot pastries wafted from the parlor.
Ekaterin, smiling politely but with two little parallel lines of tension between her brows, sat enthroned in her uncle's overstuffed chair in the corner, holding a teacup. Ranged around the room, perched on more decorative chairs, were three men, two in Imperial undress greens and one in a civilian tunic and trousers.
Miles didn't recognize the heavy-set fellow who wore major's tabs, along with Ops pins, on his high collar. The other officer was Lieutenant Alexi Vormoncrief, whom Miles knew slightly. His pins, too, indicated he now worked in Ops. The third man, in the finely-cut civilian togs, was highly adept at avoiding work of any kind, as far as Miles knew. Byerly Vorrutyer had never joined the Service; he'd been a town clown for as long as Miles had been acquainted with him. Byerly had impeccable taste in everything but his vices. Miles would have been loath to introduce Ekaterin to him even
'Where did
'Major Zamori I had as an undergraduate student, fifteen years ago,' the Professora murmured back. 'He brought me a book he said he thought I would like. Which is true; I already had a copy. Young Vormoncrief came to compare pedigrees with Ekaterin. He thought they might be related, he said, as his grandmother was a Vorvane. Aunt to the Minister for Heavy Industries, you know.'
'I know that branch, yes.'
'They have spent the past hour establishing that, while the Vorvanes and the Vorvaynes are indeed of the same root stock, the families split off at least five generations back. I don't know why By Vorrutyer is here. He neglected to supply me with an excuse.'
'There is no excuse for By.' But Miles thought he could see exactly why the three of them were there, lame stories and all, and she was clutching her teacup in the corner and looking trapped. Couldn't they do better than those palpably transparent tales? 'Is my cousin Ivan here?' he added dangerously. Ivan worked in Ops, come to think of it. Once was happenstance, twice was coincidence . . .
'Ivan Vorpatril? No. Oh, dear, is he likely to turn up? I'm out of pastries. I had bought them for the Professor's dessert tonight. . . .'
'I trust not,' muttered Miles. He fixed a polite smile on his face, and swung into the Professora's parlor. She followed after him.
Ekaterin's chin came up, and she smiled and put down her cup-shield. 'Oh, Lord Vorkosigan! I'm so glad you're here. Um . . . do you know these gentlemen?'
'Two out of three, Madame. Good morning, Vormoncrief. Hello, Byerly.'
The three acquaintances exchanged guarded nods. Vormoncrief said politely, 'Good morning, my Lord Auditor.'
'Major Zamori, this is Lord Auditor Miles Vorkosigan,' the Professora supplied.
'Good day, sir,' said Zamori. 'I've heard of you.' His gaze was direct and fearless, despite his being so heavily outnumbered by Vor lords. But then, Vormoncrief was a mere stripling of a lieutenant, and Byerly Vorrutyer didn't rank at all. 'Did you come to see Lord Auditor Vorthys? He just stepped out.'
Ekaterin nodded. 'He went for a walk.'
'In the rain?'
The Professora rolled her eyes slightly, by which Miles guessed her husband had skipped off and left her to play duenna to her niece by herself.
'No matter,' Miles went on. 'In fact, I have some little business with Madame Vorsoisson.' And if they took that to mean a Lord Auditor's Imperial business, and not merely Lord Vorkosigan's private business, who was he to correct them?
'Yes,' Ekaterin nodded in confirmation of this.
'My apologies for interrupting you all,' Miles added, by way of a broad hint. He did not sit down, but leaned against the frame of the archway, and crossed his arms. No one moved.
'We were just discussing family trees,' Vormoncrief explained.
'At some length,' murmured Ekaterin.
'Speaking of strange pedigrees, Alexi, Lord Vorkosigan and I were almost related much more closely,' Byerly remarked. 'I feel quite a familial attachment to him.'
'Really?' said Vormoncrief, looking puzzled.
'Oh, yes. One of my aunts on the Vorrutyer side was once married to his father. So Aral Vorkosigan is actually some sort of virtual, if not virtuous, uncle to me. But she died young, alas —ruthlessly pruned from the tree—without bearing me a cousin to cut the future Miles out of his inheritance.' Byerly cocked a brow at Miles. 'Was she fondly remembered, in your family dinner conversations?'
'We never much discussed the Vorrutyers,' said Miles.
'How odd. We never much discussed the Vorkosigans, either. Hardly at all, in fact. Such a resounding silence, one feels.'
Miles smiled, and let just such a silence stretch between them, curious to see who would flinch first. By's eye began to glint appreciation, but the first whose nerve broke was one of the innocent bystanders.
Major Zamori cleared his throat. 'So, Lord Auditor Vorkosigan. What's