Memory

Ivan invited himself to dinner the next night. Miles feared he would have to endure more of the campaign to get him to address his medical problems, about which, admittedly, he had still done nothing, but instead Ivan brought flowers to Ma Kosti, and hung around the kitchen during dinner preparations, making her laugh, until she ran him out. At that point Miles began to fear it was the opening of a campaign to hire away his cook, though whether in Ivan's own right or on behalf of Lady Alys he was not yet sure.

They were halfway through dessert—by Ivan's request, a reprise of the spiced peach tart—when they were interrupted by a comconsole call, or rather, by Martin lurching in to announce, 'There's some ImpSec stiff-rod on the com for you, Lord Vorkosigan.'

Illyan? Why would Illyan call me? But when, Ivan following in curiosity, he'd trooped to the nearest com on that floor, the one sited in his grandfather's old sitting room overlooking the back garden, the face that formed over the vid plate at his touch was that of Duv Galeni.

'You smarmy goddamn little pimp,' said Galeni, in a dead-level voice.

Miles's own bright, innocent, panicked, 'Hi, Duv, what's up?' tripped over this and fell very flat, and just lay there, withering under Galeni's glare. Galeni's face was neither red nor pale, but livid, gray with rage. I should have stayed at Vorkosigan Surleau one more week, 1 think.

'You knew. You set this up. You set me up.'

'Um . . . just checking.' Miles swallowed. 'What are we talking about?'

Galeni didn't even bother to dignify this with an answer, but glared on, his lips curling back on his long teeth in an expression that had nothing to do with a smile.

'Gregor and Laisa, by chance?' Miles hazarded. More thick silence, broken only by Galeni's breathing. 'Duv … I didn't know it would come out like this. Who would have guessed it, after all these years? I was trying to do you a favor, dammit!'

'The one good thing that's ever come my way. Taken. Stolen. Vor does mean thief. And you goddamn Barrayaran thieves stick together, all right. You and your fucking precious Emperor and the whole damned pack of you.'

'Uh,' put in Ivan from the side, 'is this comconsole secured, Miles? Sorry, Duv, but if you're going to express yourself so, um, frankly, wouldn't it be better to do it in person? I mean, I hope this isn't over your ImpSec channel. They have ears in the damnedest places.'

'ImpSec can take its ears and the flat head between them and shove them up its collective ass.' Galeni's accent, normally elusively urbane, was going not only distinctly Komarran but street-Komarran.

Miles signaled Ivan to shut up. Remembering what had happened to two unlucky Cetagandans the last time Miles had seen Galeni this upset, a personal visit seemed like a singularly bad idea just now. There was Corporal Kosti to protect him, of course, but could Kosti handle one of his own superiors? In a homicidal trance? It seemed rather a lot to ask of the poor fellow.

'Duv, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it to come out this way. It was nothing I'd planned. It took everyone by surprise, even Lady Alys. Ask Ivan.'

Ivan shrugged, hands out. ''S true.'

Miles cleared his throat, cautiously. 'How, um . . . did you find out about this?'

'She called me.'

'When?'

'About five minutes ago.'

She's just dumped him. Oh great.

'They both called me,' Galeni groaned. 'She said I was her best friend here, and she wanted me to be the first Komarran to hear the news.'

Gregor's really gone and done it, then. 'And, uh . . . what did you say?'

'Congratulations, of course. What else could I say? With the pair of 'em sitting there grinning at me?' Miles breathed relief. Good. Galeni hadn't lost all control. He'd just called Miles to have a shoulder to gnash his teeth on. Looked at in a certain light, it was a measure of immense trust. Terrific. Thanks, Duv.

Ivan rubbed his neck. 'You've been chasing this woman for five months, and all you got was that she thinks you're her friend? Duv, what the hell were you doing all that time?'

'She's a Toscane' said Galeni. 'I'm just an impoverished collaborator, by her family's standards. I had to persuade her that I had a future worthy of her, nothing to look at now, no, but later . . . then he came along, and just, just swept her up with no trouble at all.'

Miles, having watched Gregor practically turning handsprings in an effort to be pleasing to Laisa, said only, 'Um.'

'Five months is way too slow,' said Ivan, continuing his tone of earnest critique. 'God, Duv, I wish you'd asked me for some advice earlier.'

'She's Komarran. What can one of you damned Barrayaran sugar-plum-fairy- soldier-bloody-buffoons know about a Komarran woman? Intelligent, educated, sophisticated—'

'Almost thirty …' Miles mused.

'I had a timetable,' said Galeni. 'When she'd known me six months exactly, I was going to ask her.'

Ivan winced.

Galeni seemed to be calming down, or at least beginning a downward slide from his immediate reaction of rage and pain into a less energy-intensive despair. Perhaps his violent words were going to be safety-vent enough for his boiling emotions, without violent actions this time. 'Miles . . .'—at least he didn't preface the name with a string of pejoratives now—'you're nearly Gregor's foster brother.'

No nearly about it. 'Um?'

'Do you think . . . could you possibly persuade him to relinquish . . . no.' Galeni ran down altogether.

No. 'I owe Gregor . . . from too far back. On a personal as well as a political level. This heir business is essential to my future health and safety, and Gregor's been dragging his feet on it forever. Till now. I can't do anything but support him. And anyway'—he remembered his Aunt Alys's words—'it's Laisa's decision, not yours or mine or Gregor's. I can't help it if you forgot to tell her about your timetable. I'm sorry.'

'Shit.' Galeni cut the com.

'Well,' said Ivan thinly into the silence that followed. 'At least that's over with.'

'Have you been avoiding him too?'

'Yes.'

'Coward.'

'Who was it spent the last two weeks hiding out in the mountains?'

'It was a strategic withdrawal.'

'Well. I believe our dessert is drying out back in the dining room.'

'I'm not hungry. Besides … if this is Gregor and Laisa's night to start informing selected personal friends, prior to the official announcement … I may as well stay here for a few more minutes.'

'Ah.' Ivan nodded, and pulled up a chair, and seated himself.

Three minutes later, the comconsole chimed. Miles keyed it on.

Gregor was trimly dressed in dark and distinctly civilian gear; Laisa was lovely as usual in bluntly Komarran style. Both were smiling, eyes alight with the glow of their mutual infatuation.

'Hello, Miles,' Gregor began, to which Laisa added a, 'Hello again, Lord Vorkosigan.'

Miles cleared his throat. 'Hi, folks. What can I do for you?'

'I wanted you to be among the first to know,' said Gregor. 'I've asked Laisa to marry me. And she said yes.' Gregor was looking quite blitzed, as if this prompt assent had come as a surprise to him. Laisa's smile, to her credit, was at least equally blitzed.

'Congratulations,' Miles managed.