Komarr

surely not an alien idea for you. And it could grow to be more, in time, I'm certain it could. I know it's too soon, but soon you'll be gone and then it will be too late!'

Venier paused for breath. Miles bent over, mouth still open, in a sort of silent scream. My lines! My lines! Those were all my lines, dammit! He'd expected Vorish rivals for Ekaterin's hand to come pouring out of the woodwork as soon as the widow touched down in Vorbarr Sultana, but my God, she hadn't even got off Komarr yet! He hadn't thought of Venier, or any other Komarran, as possible competition. He wasn't competition, the idea of Vennie as competition was laughable. Miles had more power, position, money, rank, all to lay at her feet when the time was finally ripe—Venier wasn't even taller than Ekaterin, he was a good four centimeters shorter—

The one thing Miles couldn't offer, though, was less Barrayar. In that, Venier had an advantage Miles could never match.

There followed a long, terrifying silence, during which Miles's brain screamed, Say no, say no! say NO!

'That's very kindly offered,' Ekaterin said at last.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? And was Venier wondering the same thing?

'Kindness has nothing to do with it. I—' Venier cleared his throat again '—admire you very much.'

'Oh, dear.'

He added eagerly, 'I've applied for the administrative position as head of terraforming here. I think I have a good chance, because of the disruption in the department, HQ is surely going to be looking for some continuity. Or if the mud has splattered on the innocent as well as the guilty, I'll do whatever I have to do to get another shot, a chance to clear my professional reputation—I can make Serifosa Sector a showcase, I know I can. If you stay, I can get you voting shares. We could do it together; we could make this place a garden. Stay here and help build a world!'

Another long, terrifying silence. Then Ekaterin said, 'I suppose you'd be assigned this apartment, if you succeeded to Tien's position.'

'It goes with it,' said Venier in an uncertain voice. Right, that wasn't a selling point, though Miles wasn't sure if Venier knew it. I can hardly bear being in this place, she'd said.

'You offer is kind and generous, Venier. But you have mistaken my situation, somewhat. No one is forcing me to return home. Komarr . . . I'm afraid these domes give me claustrophobia, anymore. Every time I pull on a breath mask, I'm going to think about the ugly way Tien died.'

'Ah,' said Venier. 'I can understand that, but perhaps, in time . . . ?'

'Oh, yes. Time. Vor custom calls for a widow to mourn for one year.' Miles could not guess what gesture, what facial expression, went with these words. A grimace? A smile?

'Do you hold to that archaic custom? Must you? Why? I never understood it. I thought in the Time of Isolation they tried to keep all women married all the time.'

'Actually, I think it was practical. It gave time to be certain any pregnancy that might have been started could be completed while the woman was still under the control of her late husband's family, so they could be sure of claiming custody of any male issue. But still, whether I believe in formal mourning or not won't matter. As long as people think I do, I can use it to defend myself from—from unwanted suits. I so much need a quiet time and place to find my balance again.'

There was a short silence. Then Venier said, more stiffly, 'Defend? I did not mean my proposal as an attack, Kat.'

'Of course I don't think that,' she replied faintly.

Lie, lie. Of course she bloody well did. Ekaterin had experienced marriage as one long siege of her soul. After ten years of Tien, she probably felt about matrimony the way Miles felt about needle- grenade launchers. This was very bad for Venier. Good. But it was equally bad for Miles. Bad. Good. Bad. Good. Bad …

'Kat, I … I won't make a pest of myself. But think about it, think about all your alternatives, before you do anything irrevocable. I'll still be here.'

Another awful silence. Then, 'I don't wish to give you pain, who never gave me any, but it's wrong to make people live on false hopes.' A long, indrawn breath, as if she was mustering all her strength. 'No.'

Yes!

And then, added more weakly, 'But thank you so much for caring about me.'

Longer silence. Then Venier said, 'I meant to help. I can see I've made it worse. I really must be going, I still have to pick up dinner on the way home …'

Yes, and eat it alone, you miserable rabbit! Ha!

'Madame Vorsoisson, good night.'

'Let me see you to the door. Thank you again for bringing Tien's things. I do hope you get Tien's job, Venier, I'm sure you could do it well. It's time they started promoting Komarrans into the higher administrative positions again …'

Miles slowly unfroze, wondering how he was going to slip past her now. If she went on to check Nikki, as she might, he could nip into her workroom without her seeing him, and pretend he'd been there all the time—

Instead, he heard her steps return to the kitchen. A scrape and rattle, a sigh, then a louder rattle as the contents of a box were, apparently, dumped wholesale into the trash chute. A chair being pulled or pushed. He inched forward, to peek around the door port. She had sat again for a moment, her hands pressed against her eyes. Crying? Laughing? She rubbed her face, threw back her head, and stood, turning toward the balcony.

Miles hastily backed up, looked around, and sat in the nearest chair. He extended his legs and threw back his head artistically, and closed his eyes. Dare he try to fake a snore, or would that be overdoing it?

Her steps paused. Oh, God, what if she sealed the door, locking him out like a strayed cat? Would he have to bang on the glass, or stay out here all night? Would anyone miss him? Could he climb down and come back in the front door? The thought made him shudder. He wasn't due for another seizure, but you never knew, that was part of what made his disorder so much fun. . . .

Her steps continued. He let his mouth hang slack, then he sat up, blinking and snorting. She was staring at him in surprise, her elegant features thrown into strong relief by the half-light from the kitchen. 'Oh! Madame Vorsoisson. I must have been more tired than I thought.'

'Were you asleep?'

His Yes mutated to a weak 'Mm,' as he recalled his promise not to lie to her. He rubbed his neck. 'I'd have been half-paralyzed in that position.'

Her brows drew down quizzically, and she crossed her arms. 'Lord Vorkosigan. I didn't think Imperial Auditors were supposed to prevaricate like that.'

'What . . . badly?' He sat all the way up and sighed. 'I'm sorry. I'd stepped out to contemplate the view, and I didn't think anything when I first heard Vennie enter, and then I thought it might be something to do with the case, and then it was too late to say anything without embarrassing us all. As bad as the business with your comconsole all over again, sorry. Accidents, both. I'm not like this, really.'

She cocked her head, a weird quirky smile tilting her mouth. 'What, insatiably curious and entirely free of social inhibitions? Yes, you are. It's not the ImpSec training. You're a natural. No wonder you did so well for them.'

Was this a compliment or an insult? He couldn't quite tell, good, bad, good-bad-good . . . ? He rose, smiled, abandoned the idea of asking her about the estate law session, bid her a polite good night, and fled in ignominy.