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Sergeant s frown was democratically universal. The duty guard s smirk broadened to a muffled snicker
as they fled down the hall.
Can t miss, eh? Elena snarled out of the corner of her mouth at Miles as they rose up the lift tube.
He executed a pirouette in midair, shamelessly. A strategic withdrawal in good order; what more can
you ask for being out-gunned, out-numbered, and out-ranked? We were just practicing that old play.
Very cultural. Who could possibly object? I think I m a genius.
I think you re an idiot, she said fiercely. My other stocking is hanging over the back of your
shoulder.
Oh. He twisted his neck for a look, and plucked off the filmy, clinging garment. He held it out to her
with a sickly, apologetic smile. I guess that didn t look too good.
She glared at him and snatched it back. And now I m going to get lectured at he treats every male
that comes near me like a potential rapist anyway he ll probably forbid me to speak to you, too, now.
Or send me back to the country forever... Her eyes were swimming for their lives. They reached the
door. And on top of that, he s he s lied to me about my mother
She fled into her bedroom, slamming the door so hard that she came close to taking off a few fingers
from the hand Miles was raising in protest. He leaned against the door and called through the heavy
carved wood anxiously. You don t know that! There s undoubtedly some perfectly logical
explanation I ll get it figured out
Go AWAY! her muffled wail came back.
He shuffled uncertainly around the hall for a few
more minutes, hoping for a second chance, but the door remained uncompromisingly blank and silent.
After a time he became conscious of the stiff figure of the floor duty guard at the end of the corridor. The
man was politely not looking at him. The Prime Minister s security detail was, after all, among the most
discreet, as well as the most alert, available. Miles swore under his breath, and shuffled back to the lift
tube.
CHAPTER FOUR
* * *
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Miles ran into his mother in the back passage downstairs.
Have you seen your father lately, heart? Countess Vorkosigan asked him.
Yes, unfortunately, he went into the library with Captain Koudelka and the Sergeant.
Sneaking off for a drink, she analyzed wryly, with his old troopers. Well, I can t blame him. He s so
tired. It s been a ghastly day. And I know he hasn t gotten enough sleep. She looked him over
penetratingly. How have you been sleeping?
Miles shrugged. All right.
Mm. I d better go catch him before he has more than one ethanol has an unfortunate tendency to
make him blunt, and that egg-sucker Count Vordrozda just arrived, in company with Admiral Hessman.
He ll have trouble ahead if those two are getting in bed together.
I shouldn t think the far right could muster that much support, with all the old soldiers solidly behind
Father.
Oh, Vordrozda s not a rightist at heart. He s just personally ambitious, and he ll ride any pony that s
going his way. He s been oozing around Gregor for months... Anger sparked in her grey eyes. Flattery
and innuendo, oblique criticisms and these nasty little barbs stuck in all the boy s self doubts I ve
watched him at work. I don t like him, she said positively.
Miles grinned. I never would have guessed. But surely you don t have to worry about Gregor. His
mother s habit of referring to the Emperor as if he were her rather backward adopted child always
tickled him. In a sense it was true, as the former Regent had been Gregor s personal as well as political
guardian during his minority.
She grimaced. Vordrozda s not the only one who wouldn t hesitate to corrupt the boy in any area he
could sink his claws into moral, political, what you will if he thought it would advance himself one
centimeter, and damn the long range good of Barrayar or of Gregor, for that matter. Miles recognized
this instantly as a quote from his mother s sole political oracle, his father. I don t know why these people
can t write a constitution. Oral law what a way to try and run an interstellar power. This was
homegrown opinion, pure Betan.
Father s been in power so long, said Miles equably. I think it would take a gravity torpedo blast to
shift him out of office.
That s been tried, remarked Countess Vorkosigan, growing abstracted. I wish he d get serious about
retiring. We ve been lucky so far, her eye fell on him wistfully, mostly.
She s tired too, Miles thought.
The politicking never stops, she added, staring at the floor. Not even for his father s funeral. She
brightened wickedly. Nor do his relations. If you see him before I do, tell him Lady Vorpatril s looking
for him. That ll make his day no, better not. We d never be able to find him, then.
Miles raised his brows. What does Aunt Vorpatril want him to do for her now?
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Well, ever since Lord Vorpatril died she s been expecting him to stand in loco parentis to that idiot
Ivan, which is fine, up to a point. But she nailed me a while ago, when she couldn t find Aral seems she
wants Aral to stand the boy up in a corner somewhere and brace him for er swiving the servant girls,
which ought to embarrass them both thoroughly. I ve never understood why these people won t clip their
kids tubes and turn them loose at age twelve to work out their own damnation, like sensible folk. You
may as well try to stop a sandstorm with a windsock... She went off toward the library, muttering her
favorite swear-word under her breath, Barrayarans!
Wet darkness had fallen outside, turning the windows into dim mirrors of the subdued and mannered
revelry within Vorkosigan House. Miles stared into his own reflection in passing; dark hair, grey eyes,
pale shadowed face, features too sharp and strongly marked to satisfy aesthetics. And an idiot, to boot.
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