He was gradually pulling himself into better focus, as his initial awkward terror of being repellant to her ebbed. He sat up and rubbed his hand over his face in the familiar gesture, as if to scrub away the numbness, and made a stab at light conversation. 'That's a pretty dress. A great improvement over those orange things.'
'Thanks,' she said, falling in immediately with his lead. 'I'm sorry I can't say the same for your shirt—does that represent your own taste, by chance?'
'No, it was a gift.'
'I'm relieved.'
'Something of a joke. Some of my officers got together and purchased it on the occasion of my first promotion to admiral, before Komarr. I always think of them, when I wear it.'
'Well, that's nice. In that case I guess I can get used to it.'
'Three of the four are dead, now. Two died at Escobar.'
'I see.' So much for light chitchat. She swirled her wine around in the bottom of her glass. 'You look like hell, you know. Pasty.'
'Yes, I stopped exercising. Bothari's quite offended.'
'I'm glad Bothari didn't get in too much trouble over Vorrutyer.'
'It was touch and go, but I got him off. Illyan's testimony helped.'
'Yet they discharged him.'
'Honorably. On a medical.'
'Did you put your father up to hiring him?'
'Yes. It seemed like the right thing to do. He'll never be normal, as we think of it, but at least he has a uniform, and a weapon, and regulations of a sort to follow. It seems to give him an anchor.' He ran a finger slowly around the rim of the brandy tumbler. 'He was Vorrutyer's batman for four years, you see. He was not too well, when he was first assigned to the
There was a hesitant hunger in his face, soundless desire suppressed by uncertainty. We have hesitated so long, she thought, it's become a habit. Then it dawned on her that he feared she might only be visiting. Hell of a long trip for a chat, my love. You are drunk.
'As long as you like. I discovered, when I went home—it was changed. Or I was changed. Nothing fit anymore. I offended nearly everybody, and left one step ahead of, um, a whole lot of trouble. I can't go back. I resigned my commission—mailed it in from Escobar—and everything I own is in the back of that flyer down there.'
She savored the delight that ignited his eyes during this speech, as it finally penetrated that she was here to stay. It contented her.
'I would get up,' he said, sliding to the side of his chair, 'but for some reason my legs go first and my tongue last. I'd rather fall at your feet in some more controlled fashion. I'll improve shortly. Meantime, will you come sit here?'
'Gladly.' She changed chairs. 'But won't I squash you? I'm kind of tall.'
'Not a bit. I loathe tiny women. Ah, that's better.'
'Yes.' She nestled down with him, arms around his chest, resting her head on his shoulder, and hooking one leg over him as well, to emphatically complete his capture. The captive emitted something between a sigh and a laugh. She wished they might sit like that forever.
'You'll have to give up this suicide-by-alcohol thing, you know.'
He cocked his head. 'I thought I was being subtle.'
'Not noticeably.'
'Well, it suits me. It's extraordinarily uncomfortable.'
'Yes, you've worried your father. He gave me the funniest look.'
'Not his glare, I hope. He has a very withering glare. Perfected over a lifetime.'
'Not at all. He smiled.'
'Good God.' A grin crinkled the corners of his eyes.
She laughed, and craned her neck for a look at his face. That was better… .
'I'll shave, too,' he promised in a burst of enthusiasm.
'Don't go overboard on my account. I came to retire, too. A separate peace, as they say.'
'Peace, indeed.' He nuzzled her hair, breathing its scent. His muscles unwound beneath her like an overtaut bow unstrung.
A few weeks after their marriage they took their first trip together, Cordelia accompanying Vorkosigan on his periodic pilgrimmage to the Imperial Military Hospital in Vorbarr Sultana. They traveled in a groundcar borrowed from the Count, Bothari taking what was evidently his usual role as combination driver and bodyguard. To Cordelia, who was just beginning to know him well enough to see through his taciturn facade, he seemed on edge. He glanced uncertainly over her head, seated between him and Vorkosigan.
'Did you tell her, sir?'
'Yes, everything. It's all right, Sergeant.'
Cordelia added encouragingly, 'I think you're doing the right thing, Sergeant. I'm, um, very pleased.'
He relaxed a little, and almost smiled. 'Thank you, Milady.'
She studied his profile covertly, her mind ranging over the array of difficulties he would be taking back to the hired village woman at Vorkosigan Surleau this day, gravely doubtful of his ability to handle them. She risked probing a little.
'Have you thought about—what you're going to tell her about her mother, as she grows older? She's bound to want to know eventually.'
He nodded, was silent, then spoke. 'Going to tell her she's dead. Tell her we were married. It's not a good thing to be a bastard here.' His hand tightened on the controls. 'So she won't be. No one must call her that.'
'I see.' Good luck, she thought. She turned to a lighter question. 'Do you know what you're going to name her?'
'Elena.'
'That's pretty. Elena Bothari.'
'It was her mother's name.'
Cordelia was surprised into an unguarded remark. 'I thought you couldn't remember Escobar!'
A little time went by, and he said, 'You can beat the memory drugs, some, if you know how.'
Vorkosigan raised his eyebrows. Evidently this was new to him, too. 'How do you do that, Sergeant?' he asked, carefully neutral.
'Someone I knew once told me … You write down what you want to remember, and think about it. Then hide it—the way we used to hide your secret files from Radnov, sir—they never figured it out either. Then first thing when you get back, before your stomach even settles, take it out and look at it. If you can remember one thing on the list, you can usually get the rest, before they come back again. Then do the same thing again. And again. It helps if you have an, an object, too.'
'Did you have, ah, an object?' asked Vorkosigan, clearly fascinated.
'Piece of hair.' He fell silent again for a long time, then volunteered, 'She had long black hair. It smelled nice.
Cordelia, boggled and bemused by the implications of his story, settled back and found something to look at out the canopy. Vorkosigan looked faintly illuminated, like a man who'd found a key piece in a difficult puzzle. She watched the varied scenery, enjoying the clear sunlight, summer air so cool one needed no protective devices, and the little glimpses of green and water in the hollows of the hills. She also noticed something else. Vorkosigan saw the direction of her glance.
'Ah, you spotted them, did you?'
Bothari smiled slightly.
'The flyer that doesn't outpace us?' said Cordelia. 'Do you know who it is?'
'Imperial Security.'
'Do they always follow you to the capital?'
