Memory

would make him smarter. . . .

For his evening meal, Miles decided to keep up the standards. He donned his dress greens, pulled all the covers off the furniture in the State dining room, and set up his wine with a proper crystal glass at the head of the meters-long table. He almost hunted up a plate, but reflected he could save the washing up by eating the Reddi-Meal! out of its packet. He piped in soft music. Other than that, dinner took about five minutes. When he'd finished, he dutifully put the covers back on the polished wood and fine chairs.

If I'd had the Dendarii here, I could have had a real party.

Elli Quinn. Or Taura. Or Rowan Durona. Or even Elena, Baz and all. Bel Thorne, whom he still missed. All of the above. Somebody. The inner vision of the Dendarii occupying Vorkosigan House gave him vertigo, but there was no doubt they'd know how to liven the place up.

By the next evening, he was desperate enough to call his cousin Ivan.

Ivan answered his comconsole promptly enough. Lieutenant Lord Ivan Vorpatril was still wearing undress greens, identical to Miles's except for the symbol of Ops instead of ImpSec pinned to his collar in front of the red lieutenants rectangles. At least Ivan hadn't changed, still holding down the same desk at Imperial Service headquarters by day, and leading the pleasant life of a Vor officer in the capital by night.

Ivan's handsome, affable face brightened into a genuine smile when he saw Miles. 'Well, coz! I didn't know you were back in town.'

'I got in a few days ago,' Miles confessed. 'I've been sampling the somewhat bizarre sensations of having Vorkosigan House to myself.'

'Dear God, you're all alone in that mausoleum?'

'Except for the gate guard, and Zap the Cat, who keep to themselves.'

'It ought to suit you, back from the dead as you are,' said Ivan.

Miles touched his chest. 'Not really. I never noticed before how much the old place creaks at night. I spent this afternoon . . .' He couldn't very well tell Ivan he'd spent the day plotting a secret medical foray without Ivan asking why, he continued smoothly, 'looking through the archives. I got to wondering how many people had actually died on the premises, over the centuries. Besides my grandfather, of course. There were a lot more than I'd thought.' A fascinating question, actually; he would have to scan the archives.

'Yech.'

'So . . , what's happening in Town? Any chance of you stopping by?'

'I'm on duty all day, of course . . . there's not too much going on, really. We're at that odd cusp, done with the Emperor's Birthday and not time yet for Winterfair.'

'How was the Birthday bash this year? I just missed it. I was still en route, three weeks out. Nobody even got drunk to celebrate.'

'Yes, I know. I got stuck delivering your District's bag of gold. It was the usual crush. Gregor retired early, and things sort of trickled off to nothing before dawn.' Ivan pursed his lips, looking like he was being seized with a bright idea. Miles braced himself.

'I tell you what, though. In two nights Gregor is having a State dinner. There's two or three major new galactic ambassadors, and a couple of minor counsels, who've presented their portfolios in the last month, and Gregor figured to round them up all at once and get it over with. As usual, Mother is playing hostess for him.'

Lady Alys Vorpatril was widely acknowledged as the premier social arbiter of Vorbarr Sultana, not least because of her frequent duties at the Imperial Residence as official welcomer for wifeless, motherless, sisterless Emperor Gregor.

'There's going to be dancing, after. Mother asked me if I couldn't round up some younger people to warm up the ballroom. By younger I gather she means under forty. Appropriate ones, you know the drill. If I had known you were in town, I'd have nailed you before this.'

'She wants you to bring a date,' Miles interpreted this. 'Preferably, a fiancee.'

Ivan grinned. 'Yeah, but for some reason most fellows I know won't lend me theirs.'

'Would I be supposed to provide a dance partner too? I hardly know any women here anymore.'

'So, bring one of the Koudelka girls. I am. Sure, it's like taking your sister, but they are decorative as hell, especially en masse.'

'Did you ask Delia?' said Miles thoughtfully.

'Yeah. But I'll cede her to you if you like, and take Martya. But if you're escorting Delia, you have to promise not to make her wear high heels. She hates it when you make her wear high heels.'

'But she's so … impressive in them.'

'She's impressive out of them, too.'

'True. Well . . . yes, all right.' Miles entertained a brief flashing vision of himself having a seizure right on the Imperial ballroom floor, in front of half the Vorish social cream of the capital. But what was the alternative? Stay home by himself yet another night with nothing to do but dream about his after-the-next-mission escape to Escobar, evolve nineteen more impractical ways to defeat ImpSec s observation of him on ImpSec's home turf, or brainstorm how to steal the gate guard's cat for company? And Ivan might solve his transportation dilemma.

'I don't have a car,' Miles said.

'What happened to your lightflyer?'

'It's … in the shop. Adjustments.'

'Want me to pick you up?'

His brains were lagging. That would leave Ivan driving, to the terror of all prudent passengers, unless Miles could bully Delia Koudelka into taking over. Miles sat up, seized with a bright idea of his own. 'Does your mother really want extra bodies?'

'She says so.'

'Captain Duv Galeni is in town. I saw him the other day at ImpSec HQ. He's stuck down in the Analysis section, except that he seems to regard it as a rare treat.'

'Oh, yeah, I knew that! I would have remembered to tell you eventually. He came over to our side of town a few weeks ago in tow of General Allegre, for some consultation by the upper-ups. I meant to do something to welcome him to Vorbarr Sultana, but I hadn't got around to it yet. You ImpSec boys tend to keep to yourselves over there in Paranoia Central.'

'But anyway, he's trying to impress this Komarran girl,' Miles forged on. 'Not girl, woman I suppose, some kind of high-powered wheel in a trade delegation. She's strong on brains rather than beauty, I gather, which doesn't surprise me, knowing Galeni. And she has interesting Komarran connections. How many points d'you think he would score for getting her into an Imperial State dinner?'

'Many,' said Ivan decisively. 'Especially if it's one of my mother's exclusive little soirees.'

'And we both owe him one.'

'More than one. And he's not nearly as sarcastic as he used to be, either, I noticed. Maybe he's mellowing out. Sure, invite him along,' said Ivan.

'I'll give him a call, and get back to you, then.' Happy in his inspiration, Miles cut the com.

CHAPTER FIVE

Miles climbed from Captain Galeni's groundcar, which was stopped at the east portico of the Imperial Residence, and turned to assist Delia Koudelka, who scarcely needed help. She swung out her long athletic legs, and bounced to her feet. The flowing skirts of her dress, in her favorite blue, revealed a glimpse of her matching dancing slippers, sensible, comfortable, and flat. She was the tallest of Commodore Koudelka's four daughters; the top of Miles s head was a good ten centimeters below the level of her shoulder. He grinned up at her. She returned a somewhat twisted smile, companionable and sporting.

'I don't know why I let you and Ivan talk me into this,' she sighed to his ear.

'Because you like to dance,' Miles stated with certainty. 'Give me the first two, and I promise I'll find you a