A Civil Campaign

actually lying to. It wasn't his imagination; talking with the man was giving him a headache. He hoped By had a hangover. 'Go on. Speed it up.'

'Some standard Conservative bitching was exchanged about the costs of the proposed Komarran solar mirror repairs. Let the Komarrans pay for it, they broke it, didn't they, and so on as usual.'

'They will be paying for it. Don't they know how much of our tax revenues are based in Komarran trade?'

'You surprise me, Ivan. I didn't know you paid attention to things like that.'

'I don't,' Ivan denied hastily. 'It's common knowledge.'

'Discussion of the Komarran incident brought up, again, our favorite little Lord Auditor, and dear Alexi was moved to unburden himself of his personal grievance. It seems the beautiful Widow Vorsoisson bounced his suit. After much trouble and expense on his part, too. All those fees to the Baba, you know.'

'Oh.' Ivan brightened. 'Good for her.' She was refusing everybody. Miles's domestic disaster was provably not Ivan's fault , yes!

'Sigur Vorbretten, of all people, next offered up a garbled version of Miles's recent dinner party, complete with a vivid description of Madame Vorsoisson storming out in the middle of it after Miles's calamitous public proposal of marriage.' By tilted his head. 'Even taking Dono's version of the dialogue over Sigur's, whatever did possess the man, anyway? I always thought Miles more reliably suave.'

'Panic,' said Ivan. 'I believe. I was at the other end of the table.' He brooded briefly. 'It can happen to the best of us.' He frowned. 'How the hell did Sigur get hold of the story? I sure haven't been passing it out. Has Lord Dono been blabbing?'

'Only to me, I trust. But Ivan, there were nineteen people at that party. Plus the Armsmen and servants. It's all over town, and growing more dramatic and delicious with each reiteration, I'm sure.'

Ivan could just picture it. Ivan could just picture it coming to Miles's ears, and the smoke pouring back out of them. He winced deeply. 'Miles . . . Miles will be homicidal.'

'Funny you should say that.' By took another sip of coffee, and regarded Ivan very blandly. 'Putting together Miles's investigation on Komarr, Administrator Vorsoisson's death in the middle of it, Miles's subsequent proposition of his widow, and her theatrical—in Sigur's version, though Dono claims she was quite dignified, under the circumstances—public rejection of it, plus five Conservative Vor politicians with long-time grudges against Aral Vorkosigan and all his works, and several bottles of fine Vormoncrief District wine, a Theory was born. And evolved rapidly, in a sort of punctuated equilibrium, to a full-grown Slander even as I watched. It was just fascinating.'

'Oh, shit,' whispered Ivan.

By gave him a sharp look. 'You anticipate me? Goodness, Ivan. What unexpected depths. You can imagine the conversation; I had to sit through it. Alexi piping about the damned mutant daring to court the Vor lady. Vormuir opining it was bloody convenient, say what, the husband killed in some supposed-accident in the middle of Vorkosigan's case. Sigur saying, But there weren't any charges, Count Boriz eyeing him like the pitiful waif he is and rumbling, There wouldn't be—the Vorkosigans have had ImpSec under their thumb for thirty years, the only question is whether was it collusion between the wife and Vorkosigan? Alexi leaping to the defense of his lady-love—the man just does not take a hint—and declaring her innocent, unsuspecting till Vorkosigan's crude proposal finally tipped his hand. Her storming out was Proof! Proof! —actually, he said it three times, but he was pretty drunk by then—that she, at least, now realized Miles had cleverly made away with her beloved spouse to clear his way to her, and she ought to know, she was there. And he bet she would be willing to reconsider his own proposal now! Since Alexi is a known twit, his seniors were not altogether convinced by his arguments, but willing to give the widow the benefit of the doubt for the sake of family solidarity. And so on.'

'Good God, By. Couldn't you stop them?'

'I attempted to inject sanity to the limit available to me without, as you military types say, blowing my cover. They were far too entranced with their creation to pay me much heed.'

'If they bring that murder charge against Miles, he'll wipe the floor with them all. I guarantee he will not suffer those fools gladly.'

By shrugged. 'Not that Boriz Vormoncrief wouldn't be delighted to see an indictment laid against Aral Vorkosigan's son, but as I pointed out to them, they haven't enough proof for that, and for—whatever—reason, aren't likely to get any, either. No. A charge can be disproved. A charge can be defended against. A charge proved false can draw legal retaliation. There won't be a charge.'

Ivan was less sure. The mere hint of the idea had surely put the wind up Miles.

'But a wink,' By went on, 'a whisper, a snicker, a joke, a deliciously horrific anecdote . . . who can get a grip on such vapor? It would be like trying to fight fog.'

'You think the Conservatives will embark on a smear campaign using this?' said Ivan slowly, chilled.

'I think . . . that if Lord Auditor Vorkosigan wishes to exert any kind of damage control, he needs to mobilize his resources. Five swaggering tongues are sleeping it off this morning. By tonight, they'll be flapping again. I would not presume to suggest strategies to My Lord Auditor. He's a big boy now. But as a, shall we say, courtesy, I present him the advantage of early intelligence. What he does with it is up to him.'

'Isn't this more a matter for ImpSec?'

'Oh, ImpSec.' By waved a dismissive hand. 'I'm sure they'll be on top of it. But—is it a matter for ImpSec, y'see? Vapor, Ivan. Vapor.'

This is slit your throat before reading stuff, and no horseshit, Miles had said, in a voice of terrifying conviction. Ivan shrugged, carefully. 'How would I know?'

By's little smile didn't shift, but his eyes mocked. 'How, indeed.'

Ivan glanced at the time. Ye gods. 'I have to report to work now, or my mother will bitch,' he said hastily.

'Yes, Lady Alys is doubtless at the Residence waiting for you already.' Taking the hint for a change, Byerly rose. 'I don't suppose you can use your influence upon her to get me issued a wedding invitation?'

'I have no influence,' said Ivan, edging By towards the door. 'If Lord Dono is Count Dono by then, maybe you can get him to take you along.'

By acknowledged this with a wave, and strolled off down the corridor, yawning. Ivan stood for a moment after the door hissed shut, rubbing his forehead. He pictured himself presenting By's news to Miles, assuming his distraught cousin had sobered up by now. He pictured himself ducking for cover. Better yet, he pictured himself deserting it all, possibly for the life of a licensed male prostitute at Beta's Orb. Betan male prostitutes did have female customers, yes? Miles had been there, and told him not-quite-all about it. Fat Mark and Kareen had even been there. But he'd never even once made it to the Orb, dammit. Life was unfair, that was what.

He slouched to his comconsole, and punched in Miles's private code. But all he stirred up was the answering program, a new one, all very official announcing that the supplicant had reached Lord Auditor Vorkosigan , whoop-te-do. Except he hadn't. Ivan left a message for his cousin to call him on urgent private business, and cut the com.

Miles probably wasn't even awake yet. Ivan dutifully promised his conscience he'd try again later today, and if that still didn't draw a response, drag himself over to Vorkosigan House