seemed to parallel Cordelia’s, though in the far more complex setting of the seized capital. But Cordelia recognized the familiar terrors under his plain words. He brought his tale swiftly up to the present moment. Kanzian nodded an occasional confirmation.
“Well done, Simon,” said Vorkosigan when Illyan concluded. He nodded toward Kanzian. “Extremely well done.”
Illyan smiled. “Thought you’d like it, sir.”
Vorkosigan turned to Kanzian. “As soon as you feel able, I would like to brief you in the tac room, sir.”
“Thank you, my lord. I’ve been out of communications—except for Vordarian’s newscasts—since I escaped Headquarters. Though there was much to be deduced from what we did see. By the way, I commend your strategy of restraint. Good so far. But you’re close to its limits.”
“So I’ve sensed, sir.”
“What’s Jolly Nolly doing at Jumppoint Station One?”
“Not answering his tightbeam. Last week his understaffers were offering an amazing array of excuses, but their ingenuity finally dried up.”
“Ha. I can just picture it. His colitis must be in wonderful form. I’ll bet not all of those ’indisposeds’ were lies. I think I should begin with a private chat with Admiral Knollys, just the two of us.”
“I would appreciate that, sir.”
“We will discuss the inevitabilities of time. And the defects of a potential commander who bases an entire strategy on an assassination he then does not succeed in carrying out.” Kanzian frowned judgmentally. “Not well constructed, to let your whole war turn on one event. Vordarian always did have a tendency to pop off.”
Cordelia, aside, caught Illyan’s eye. “Simon. Did you pick up any information at all, while you were trapped in Vorbarr Sultana, about the Imperial Military Hospital? Vaagen and Henri’s lab?” My baby?
Regretfully, he shook his head. “No, Milady.” Illyan glanced in turn at Vorkosigan. “My lord, is it true about Captain Negri’s death? We’d only had it from rumor, and Vordarian’s propaganda broadcasts. Thought it might have been a he.”
“Negri is dead. Unfortunately.” Vorkosigan grimaced. Illyan sat upright in alarm. “And the Emperor, too?”
“Gregor is safe and well.”
Illyan slumped again. “Thank God. Where?”
“Elsewhere,” said Vorkosigan dryly.
“Oh. Quite, sir. Beg pardon.”
“As soon as you’ve hit sickbay and the showers, Simon, I have some housecleaning chores for you,” Vorkosigan continued. “I want to know just exactly how ImpSec was blindsided by Vordarian’s coup. I have no wish to malign the dead—and God knows the man paid for his mistakes—but Negri’s old personal system for running ImpSec, with all his little secret compartments shared only with Ezar, has to be taken completely apart. Every component, every man re-examined, before it’s all put back together. That will be your first job as the new Chief of Imperial Security. Captain Illyan.”
Illyan’s face went from pale-tired to green-white. “Sir—you want me to step into Negri’s shoes?”
“Shake them out, first,” Vorkosigan advised dryly. “And with dispatch, if you please. I cannot produce the Emperor until ImpSec is again fit to guard him.”
“Yes, sir.” Illyan’s voice was thin with his staggerment.
Kanzian levered out of his seat, shrugging off the help of an anxious staff officer. Aral squeezed Cordelia’s hand under the table, and rose to accompany the nucleus of his new General Staff. As they all exited, Kou grinned over his shoulder at Cordelia and whispered, “Things are looking up, eh?”
She smiled bleakly back at him. Vorkosigan’s words echoed in her head. When the shift in men and loyalties reaches the critical point, and Vordarian starts to panic …
The trickle of refugees appearing at Tanery Base became a steady stream, as the week wore on. The most spectacular after Kanzian was the breakout of Prime Minister Vortala from Vordarian’s house arrest. He arrived with several wounded liveried men and a hair-raising tale of bribery, trickery, chase, and exchange-of-fire. Two lesser Imperial Ministers also turned up, one on foot. Morale rose with each notable addition; the base’s atmosphere grew electric with anticipation of action. The question exchanged by staffers in corridors became not, “Who’s come in?” but “Who’s come in this morning?” Cordelia tried to appear cheered by it all, hugging her dread to her private mind. Vorkosigan grew both pleased and tenser.
As instructed, Cordelia rested a lot in Vorkosigan’s quarters. All too soon she felt re-energized enough to start beating on the walls. She then tried varying the prescription with a few experimental push-ups and knee-bends (but not sit-ups). She was just contemplating the merits and drawbacks of going to join Bothari in the gym, when the comconsole chimed.
Koudelka’s apprehensive face appeared over the vid plate. “Milady, m’lord requests you join him now in Briefing Room Seven. Something’s come in he wants you to see.”
Cordelia’s stomach twisted. “All right. On my way.”
An array of men were waiting in Briefing Room Seven, clustered around a vidconsole in low-voiced debate. Staffers, Kanzian, Minister Vortala himself. Vorkosigan looked up and gave her a brief, unfelt smile.
“Cordelia. I’d like your opinion on something that’s come in.”
Flattering, but, “What sort of something?”
“Vordarian’s latest special report has a new twist. Kou, replay the vid, please.”
Vordarian’s propaganda broadcasts from the capital were mostly subjects for derision, among Vorkosigan’s men. Their faces looked rather more serious, this time.
Vordarian appeared in what was recognizably one of the state rooms of the Imperial Residence, the formal and serene Blue Room. Ezar Vorbarra used to make his rare public pronouncements from that background. Vorkosigan frowned.
Vordarian, in full dress greens, was seated on an ivory silk sofa, Princess Kareen at his side. Her dark hair was pulled back severely from her oval face with jeweled combs. She wore a striking black gown, somber and formal.
Vordarian spoke only a few earnest words, invoking the viewers’ attention. Then the vid cut away to the great chamber of the Council of Counts at Vorhartung Castle. The vid zoomed in on the Lord Guardian of the Speaker’s circle, dressed in his full regalia. The vid did not show what, besides its own pickup, was aimed at the Lord Guardian’s head, but something in his repeated looks, just to one side instead of directly at the focus, made Cordelia place a lethally armed man, or maybe a squad, in that unseen position.
The Lord Guardian raised a plastic flimsy, and began, “I quote—due to the—”
“Ah, slick!” murmured Vortala, and Koudelka paused the vid to say, “I beg your pardon, Minister?”
“The I-quote—he’s just legally distanced himself from the words about to come off that flimsy and out his mouth. Didn’t catch that, the first time. Good, Georgos, good,” Vortala addressed the paralyzed figure. “Go on, Lieutenant, I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
The holovid image continued, “—vile murder of the child—Emperor Gregor Vorbarra, and betrayal of his sacred oaths by the would-be usurper Vorkosigan, the Council of Counts declares the false Regent faithless, outcast, stripped of powers and outlawed. This day the Council of Counts confirms Commodore Count Vidal Vordarian as Prime Minister and acting Regent for Dowager-Princess Kareen Vorbarra, forming an emergency caretaker government until such time as a new heir may be found and confirmed by the Council of Counts and Council of Ministers in full council assembled.”
He continued with further legalities, as the vid panned the chamber. “Freeze it, Koudelka,” Vortala demanded. His lips moved as he counted. “Ha! Not even one-third present. He doesn’t have near a quorum. Who does he think he’s fooling?”
“Desperate man, desperate measures,” Kanzian murmured as the holo continued at Koudelka’s touch.
“Watch Kareen,” Vorkosigan said to Cordelia.
The holo cut back to Vordarian and the Princess. Vordarian went on in such mealy terms, it took Cordelia a moment to unravel the fact that in the phrase “personal protector,” Vordarian was announcing an engagement of marriage. His hand closed earnestly over Kareen’s, though his eye contact was reserved for the holovid. Kareen lifted her hand to receive a ring without changing her calm expression in the slightest. The vid closed with solemn music. The End. They were thankfully spared Betan-style post-mortem commentary; apparently, nobody ever asked
