Memory

Countess, but all of them were depressingly married or attached. The rest of the time he practiced his best sinister Illyanesque holding-up-the-wall pose.

Illyan himself danced past with Alys Vorpatril. Ivan, pausing beside Miles to fortify himself with a cup of hot spiced wine, stared in astonishment.

'I didn't know old Illyan could dance,' he commented.

'I sure didn't know he could dance that well,' Miles agreed. Ivan was not the only one doing a double-take. Henri Vorvolk's wife, watching Alys and her partner sail by, whispered some comment in her husband's ear; he looked up with a bemused smile. 'I've never seen Illyan do anything like that before. I suppose he was always on- duty.' Always. Dr. Ruibal had mentioned personality changes as well as cognitive changes as a possible side effect of the chip removal . . . hell, just removing that thirty-year burden of crushing responsibility could account for it.

A wisp of hair escaped Lady Alys's elaborate beflowered coiffure, and she brushed it back from her forehead. The image of her en deshabille at breakfast burst in Miles's memory, and he had the sudden sensation of being hit with a big brick. He choked on his own wine.

Good God. Illyan's sleeping with my aunt.

And vice versa, or something. He wasn't sure if he should be indignant or pleased. The only clear thought that came to him was a suddenly renewed admiration for Illyan's cool nerve.

'Are you all right?' Ivan asked him.

'Oh, yes.' I think I will let Ivan figure this one out for himself. He hid an uncontrollable grin by knocking back another gulp of wine.

He escaped Ivan and retreated into the reception room. At the buffet there he ran into Captain Galeni, selecting snacks for Delia, who waited demurely nearby. She favored Miles with a little, distant wave of her fingers.

'You, ah … found a new dance partner, I see,' Miles commented to Galeni's ear.

Galeni smiled, like a pleased fox with its mouth full of feathers. 'Yes.'

'I was going to ask her to this thing. She said she was busy tonight.'

'Too bad, Miles.'

'Is this some kind of skewed symmetry?'

Galeni's black brows twitched. 'I don't pretend I'm above a little revenge, but I'm an honorable man. I asked her first if she thought you were serious about her. She said no.'

'Oh.' Miles pretended to nibble on a fruit pastry. 'And are you serious about her?' He felt like a stand-in for Commodore Koudelka, demanding to know Galeni's intentions.

'Deathly,' Galeni breathed, his smile, for a moment, utterly gone from his eyes. Miles almost recoiled. Galeni blinked, and continued more lightly, 'With her background and connections, she'd make a superb political hostess, don't you think?' The slow smile widened. 'The brains and beauty don't hurt, either.'

'No fortune,' Miles pointed out.

Galeni shrugged. 'I can do something about that myself, if I put my mind to it.'

Miles had no doubt of it. 'Well . . .' It would not quite do to say, Better luck this time. 'Would you, ah . . . like me to put in a good word for you with her da the Commodore?'

'I hope you won't take this in bad part, Miles, but I would really rather you didn't try to do me any more favors.'

'Oh. I can see that, I guess.'

'Thank you. I don't care to repeat mistakes. I'm going to ask her tonight, on the way home.' Galeni nodded in determination, and abandoned Miles without a backwards look.

Duv and Delia. Delia and Duv. They made an alliterative couple, anyway.

Miles fended off queries from two acquaintances who had heard garbled rumors about his Imperial Auditor's appointment, then ducked back into the music chamber, where conversation was more difficult. His brain, inexorably, began turning over last night's data, as he leaned and watched with unseeing eyes as the dancers swirled past. Ten or so minutes of this aimless glowering, and people were beginning to stare at him; he pushed off from the wall and went to beg a dance from Laisa while there was still time. Gregor would surely claim the last couple of rounds for himself.

He was absorbed in keeping the beat to a rather fast-paced mirror dance with Laisa, and trying not to appreciate his Emperor's fiancee's well-padded figure too openly, when he caught a glimpse of Galeni through the arched doors into the reception room. An ImpSec colonel and two enlisted guards in ordinary undress greens had accosted him; Galeni and the colonel stood arguing in some fierce undertone. Delia stood a little away from them, blue eyes wide, her hand touching her lips. Galeni was stiff-backed, his face set in that blank and burning look that suggested well-suppressed but dangerous rage. What ImpSec emergency could be dire enough to send them to fetch their top Komarran analyst out of a party? Worried, he slid and dipped and turned so as to put Laisa's back to the archway.

The colonel, gesturing urgently, put his hand on Galeni's sleeve; Galeni shook it off. One of the guards went for a grip on his stunner, loosening it in his holster.

Laisa, breathless, froze with him, then realized this was not a move of the dance. 'Miles, what's wrong?'

'Excuse me, milady. I have to attend to something. Please go back to Gregor now.' He bowed hastily and slipped around her; inevitably, her gaze followed him as he walked, a little too quickly, through the archway.

'What seems to be the trouble, gentlemen?' Miles asked quietly, coming up to the tense little group. If he couldn't alter the tone of the proceedings, he might at least lower the volume. Half the people in the room were staring already.

The colonel gave him an uncertain nod—he wasn't wearing his Auditor's chain, but the ImpSec man had to know who he was. 'My lord. General Haroche has ordered the arrest of this man.'

Miles concealed shock, and kept his voice down. 'Why?'

'The charge was not specified. I'm required to remove him immediately from the Imperial Residence.'

Galeni hissed to Miles, 'What the hell is this, Vorkosigan? Do you have a hand in it?'

'No. I don't know. I didn't order this—' Was this connected with his case? And if so, how dare Haroche make a move on it that blindsided him?

Ivan and Martya drifted up too, looking concerned; the colonel looked increasingly rigid, watching his doubtless ordered-to-be-quiet arrest slipping out of his control.

'You got any unpaid traffic fines I don't know about, Duv?' Miles continued, trying to lighten the tone. Both guards had their hands on their stunners now.

'No, goddammit.'

'Where is General Haroche right now?' Miles demanded of the colonel. 'HQ?'

'No, my lord. He's following on. He'll be here shortly.'

To report to Gregor? Haroche had better have an explanation for this. Miles sucked in his breath. 'Look, Duv … I think you'd better go along quietly. I'll look into it.'

The colonel shot him a grateful look; Galeni, one of baffled suspicion and enormous frustration. It was a lot to ask of Galeni, to eat this moment of public humiliation, but it could be worse; letting him get stunned or knocked around for resisting arrest at the Emperor's reception sprang to Miles's mind. That would capture the attention of all the people in the room.

Galeni glanced at Delia, a flash of agony in his dark eyes, then at Ivan. 'Ivan, will you see Delia gets home all right?'

'Of course, Duv.'

Delia was biting her lip; ten more seconds and she was going to mix into this, explosively, Miles gauged from some experience of her.

At Miles's hasty nod, the colonel and the guards eased Galeni out of the room, wisely letting him travel under his own steam, not touching him. Miles waved Ivan away, and followed down the corridor. As he'd feared, the minute they turned the corner, the two guards jammed Galeni up against the nearest wall, and began frisking and binding him.