“You call him that!”
“Oh, but he’s my monster. My good dog.” She always had trouble explaining Bothari, sometimes even to herself. Cordelia wondered if Droushnakovi knew the Earth-historical origin of the term, scapegoat. The sacrificial animal that was released yearly into the wilderness, to carry the sins of its community away … Bothari was surely her beast of burden; she saw clearly what he did for her. She was less certain what she did for him, except that he seemed to find it desperately important. “I, for one, am glad you are heartsick. Two pathological killers in my service would be an excess. Treasure that nausea, Drou.”
She shook her head. “I think maybe I’m in the wrong trade.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Think what a monstrous thing an army of Botharis would be. Any community’s arm of force—military, police, security—needs people in it who can do the necessary evil, and yet not be made evil by it. To do only the necessary, and no more. To constantly question the assumptions, to stop the slide into atrocity.”
“The way that security colonel quashed that obscene corporal.”
“Yes. Or the way that lieutenant questioned the colonel … I wish we might have saved him,” Cordelia sighed.
Drou frowned deeply, into her lap.
“Kou thought you were angry with him,” said Cordelia.
“Kou?” Droushnakovi looked up dimly. “Oh, yes, he was just in here. Did he want something?”
Cordelia smiled. “Just like Kou, to imagine all your unhappiness must center on him.” Her smile faded. “I’m going to send him with Lady Vorpatril, to try and smuggle her and the baby out. We’ll go our separate ways as soon as she’s able to walk.”
Drou’s face grew worried. “He’ll be in terrible danger. Vordarian’s people will be rabid over losing her and the young lord tonight.”
Yes, there was still a Lord Vorpatril to disturb Vordarian’s genealogical calculations, wasn’t there? Insane system, that made an infant seem a mortal danger to a grown man. “There’s no safety for anybody, till this vile war is ended. Tell me. Do you still love Kou? I know you’re over your initial starry-eyed infatuation. You see his faults. Egocentric, and with a bug in his brain about his injuries, and terribly worried about his masculinity. But he’s not stupid. There’s hope for him. He has an interesting life ahead of him, in the Regents service.” Assuming they all lived through the next forty-eight hours. A passionate desire to live was a good thing to instill in her agents, Cordelia thought. “Do you want him?”
“I’m … bound to him, now. I don’t know how to explain … I gave him my virginity. Who else would have me? I’d be ashamed—”
“Forget that! After we bring off this raid, you’re going to be covered in so much glory, men will be lining up for the status of courting you. You’ll have your pick. In Aral’s household, you’ll have a chance to meet the best. What do you want? A general? An Imperial minister? A Vor lordling? An off-world ambassador? Your only problem will be choosing, since Barrayaran custom stingily only allows you one husband at a time. A clumsy young lieutenant hasn’t got a prayer of competing with all those polished seniors.”
Droushnakovi smiled, a bit skeptically, at Cordelia’s painted vision. “Who says Kou won’t be a general himself someday?” she said softly. She sighed, her brow creasing. “Yes. I still want him. But … I guess I’m afraid he’ll hurt me again.”
Cordelia thought that one over. “Probably. Aral and I hurt each other all the time.”
“Oh, not you two, Milady! You seem so, so perfect.”
“Think, Drou. Can you imagine what mental state Aral is in right this minute, because of my actions? I can. I do.”
“Oh.”
“But pain … seems to me an insufficient reason not to embrace life. Being dead is quite painless. Pain, like time, is going to come on regardless. Question is, what glorious moments can you win from life in addition to the pain?”
“I’m not sure I follow that, Milady. But … I have a picture, in my head, Of me and Kou, on a beach, all alone. It’s so warm. And when he looks at me, he sees me, really sees me, and loves me. …”
Cordelia pursed her lips. “Yeah … that’ll do. Come with me.”
The girl rose obediently. Cordelia led her back in to the hall, forcefully arranged Kou at one end of the sofa, sat Drou down on the other, and plopped down between them. “Drou, Kou has a few things to say to you. Since you apparently speak different languages, he’s asked me to be his interpreter.”
Kou made an embarrassed negative motion over Cordelia’s head.
“That hand signal means, I’d rather blow up the rest of my life than look like a fool for five minutes. Ignore it,” Cordelia said. “Now, let me see. Who begins?”
There was a short silence. “Did I mention I’m also playing the parts of both your parents? I think I shall begin by being Kou’s Ma. Well, son, and have you met any nice girls yet? You’re almost twenty-six, you know. I saw that vid,” she added in her own voice as Kou choked. “I have her style, eh? And her content. And Kou says, Yes, Ma, there’s this gorgeous girl. Young, tall, smart– and Kou’s Ma says, Tee hee! And hires me, your friendly neighborhood go-between. And I go to your father, Drou, and say, there’s this young man. Imperial lieutenant, personal secretary to the Lord Regent, war hero, slated for the inside track at Imperial HQ—and he says, Say no more! We’ll take him. Tee—hee. And—”
“I think he’ll have more to say than that!” interrupted Kou.
Cordelia turned to Droushnakovi. “What Kou just said was, he thinks your family won’t like him ’cause he’s a crip.”
“No!” said Drou indignantly. “That’s not so—”
Cordelia held up a restraining hand. “As your go-between, Kou, let me tell you. When one’s only lovely daughter points and says firmly, Da, I want that one, a prudent Da responds only, Yes, dear. I admit, the three large brothers may be harder to convince. Make her cry, and you could have a serious problem in the back alley. By which I presume you haven’t complained to them yet, Drou?”
She stifled an involuntary giggle. “No!”
Kou looked as if this was a new and daunting thought.
“See,” said Cordelia, “you can still evade fraternal retribution, Kou, if you scramble.” She turned to Drou. “I know he’s been a lout, but I promise you, he’s a trainable lout.”
“I said I was sorry,” said Kou, sounding stung.
Drou stiffened.
“Yes. Repeatedly,” she said coldly.
“And there we come to the heart of the matter,” Cordelia said slowly, seriously. “What Kou actually means, Drou, is that he isn’t a bit sorry. The moment was wonderful, you were wonderful, and he wants to do it again. And again and again, with nobody but you, forever, socially approved and uninterrupted. Is that right, Kou?”
Kou looked stunned. “Well—yes!”
Drou blinked. “But… that’s what I wanted you to say!”
“It was?” He peered over Cordelia’s head.
This go-between system may have some real merits. But also its limits. Cordelia rose from between them, and glanced at her chrono. The humor drained from her spirit. “You have a little time yet. You can say a lot in a little time, if you stick to words of one syllable.”
Chapter Eighteen
Pre-dawn in the alleys of the caravanserai was not so pitchy-black as night in the mountains. The foggy night sky reflected back a faint amber glow from the surrounding city. The faces of her friends were grey blurs, like the very earliest of ancient photographs; Cordelia tried not to think, Like the faces of the dead.
Lady Vorpatril, cleaned and fed and rested a few hours, was still none too steady, but she could walk on her own. The housewoman had contributed some surprisingly sober clothes for her, a calf-length grey skirt and sweaters against the cold. Koudelka had exchanged all his military gear for loose trousers, old shoes, and a jacket to replace the one that had suffered from its emergency obstetrical use. He carried baby Lord Ivan, now makeshift-
