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"Surely this is taking 'fashionably late' to new extremes, even for Lady Alys?"
"Haven't you heard?" Aimee's voice dropped. "She's been arrested. Got taken off to ImpSec just before she was supposed to be here."
Byerly raised an exquisite eyebrow. "Really?"
"Well, that's what Isobel told me, and she had it from Jeanette, who was talking to Drou Koudelka, and she ought to know since the Emperor asked her to host this instead of Lady Alys at the last minute."
By's lip quirked. "Well, well. And what was she arrested for? Not letting our besotted liege-lord get enough quiet time with his sweetheart?"
Aimee giggled. "I don't know. Ivan's been taken too. Apparently an Imperial Auditor had him taken away from Ops by two Vorbarra armsmen. My brother works there and he saw it. I think it's something to do with Captain Illyan. Maybe she's the one who poisoned him."
*
"Thank God she's here."
The guard snorted wearily. "Yeah. Never thought I'd be grateful to the mutie lord and that old battle-axe. But it's been hell."
"You got that right." The medtech yawned. "'S the first time he's stopped fighting in days, I think."
"Do you reckon she did sleep with him, then? I mean, before all this." An eloquent gesture of the guard's hand took in the medical setting.
"Dr Ruibal thinks so, but I don't know how he'd know." The medtech grinned. "Sooner him than me. I mean, I guess she's pretty enough in all her fancy clothes, but the way she talks!"
The guard smiled too, with more warmth. "They're a good pair, then. You should hear the chief. I tell you, he can slice you to shreds in three words. I mean, he could, before…" He trailed off, and they both looked at the closed door of the little private room, and neither of them said anything more.
*
Martin looked back and forth like a rabbit mesmerised by the lights of an oncoming car. A door opened a fraction, and a voice whispered, "In here!"
He ducked inside as Lady Vorpatril approached, and gave a relieved smile at his rescuer. It was one of the youngest and prettiest housemaids, and Martin thrust out his chest a little and turned up the wattage of his smile.
"Thanks. You saved my bacon there. I thought I was in for another lecture on serving people in the right order. Just because I offered the cakes to Lord Vorkosigan before some old ImpSec fart who was visiting. I still think I was right. Lord Vorkosigan's my boss, not General Whatsisname."
The housemaid giggled. "You've not been in service long, have you? But I don't blame you for hiding. She was looking under the sofas for dust earlier."
"I don't know what she's doing hanging around here all the time. My aunts never come round every day."
"Oh, it's so romantic," the housemaid said. "She's coming to see Captain Illyan, of course. I heard she was the one who nursed him when he was ill, and now she's fallen in love."
Martin pretended to vomit. "Ew. She's older than my mother. They both are."
"That doesn't matter," said the housemaid, giggling. "You look like my little brother when you do that."
Martin scowled. He didn't want to look like her little brother, he wanted to look witty and dashing. How come an old sick man had women falling at his feet, but nobody wanted anything to do with him?
*
"Anything different on channel two?"
The ImpSec corporal flicked a switch and a woman's voice came over the audio link.
"…and she told me that on Komarr when someone gets married the custom is…"
"All right, put it off, I don't want to know." The sergeant checked his control panel and marked off several boxes with a stylus.
"Dunno how he puts up with listening to all that," the corporal remarked.
The private who was monitoring the visual surveillance gave a snigger. "If she cuddled up to me like that she could gas about anything she wanted. Lucky bugger."
"You shut your mouth!" snapped the sergeant. "The chief can do what he likes. And if I hear any jokes about them in the mess I know who'll be on night shifts for the next month."
*
Steam rose from the teapot and curled around Lady Vorinnis' face.
"You'll never guess who I saw at the concert last night."
Countess Vorvayne looked up from her teacup curiously.
"Alys. In her box. With Captain Illyan."
"No! Really?"
"Absolutely. They looked like they were having a wonderful time."
"I thought he was brain-damaged or something." Countess Vorvayne paused. "Perhaps he is, if he's dangling after Alys."
Lady Vorinnis gave a snort of laughter. "If I had Captain Illyan after me, I'd emigrate. To Cetaganda, for preference. No, probably it's some ImpSec thing, perhaps the musical director is suspected of treason or something. Illyan didn't look brain-damaged. Maybe I should give up my season ticket there."
*
The countess was strolling down the corridor, humming. Pym straightened, and she smiled at him.
"Ah, Pym. A quick question, if I may."
"Milady?"
"Has Alys been staying here all night with Simon yet?"
Pym felt his face heat, though he managed not to flinch. Ten years in Countess Cordelia's service had only partly inured him to her questions. "No, milady," he exclaimed.
"And Simon doesn't go home with her?"
"No, milady," he repeated, more calmly.
"Pity. I'll have a word with her." She nodded politely to Pym and resumed her humming. Pym shook his head dolefully and wondered whether to encourage Lady Alys to take her leave before Countess Cordelia could catch up with her. Or should he warn the housemaids not to disturb Captain Illyan in the mornings? What the countess suggested had a way of happening.
*
"So," said Cordelia cheerfully, leaning back in her armchair, "enough of that business. I see we have Simon staying here. I heard something of what was going on with him, but not much. Miles was not informative."
Alys gave an edgy smile. Cordelia turned to face her, and Alys watched the alarming intent look spread across her features. Then Cordelia gave a decisive nod.
"Was it your idea to bring him here?" she asked.
"Miles suggested it, actually," Alys answered coolly. Not that I didn't push him as hard as I could. "It seemed very appropriate."
"So it is."
The two women stared at each other for a while, neither giving an inch. Alys found that she was enjoying the mental duel. She could see that Cordelia was doing her utmost to read her mind. Finally Cordelia threw out another hook.
"He's a fascinating man." No need to ask who the 'he' in question was.
"Indeed he is."
"It's about time you had someone in your life."
Now that had crossed the line. For a moment Alys considered a barbed answer. But the new weakness in her heart prevented her, and she only smiled a little.
*
"Ah, good, Alys and Simon are here." Cordelia gave him a sharp look, and Gregor recognised it by reflex. Sit up and pay attention. She had supervised his education for many years, after all. What was he supposed to pay attention to now?
Lady Alys approached, her arm resting lightly on Simon's in an elegant gesture. Simon looked normal. Gregor never knew what his Security chief-or ex-Security chief, now-was thinking. But Lady Alys, now… he had been sufficiently well schooled in reading the messages in Barrayaran ladies' garb to note that she was dressed in somewhat finer clothes than the occasion warranted. Alys tilted her head back and said something in a low voice to Simon, and Simon smiled at her. Gregor recognised that smile. He had seen it on his own face whilst escorting Laisa through the Hall of Mirrors earlier today. But he had never dreamed of seeing such a tender, unguarded look on Simon's face. Nor on Alys'. He looked at Cordelia and saw her beaming benignly, like a smug Baba. Surely this couldn't be what it looked like?
"Are they--is that--?" he began before he could stop himself. He had always been able to ask Cordelia anything, after all.
"Lovers?" Cordelia finished for him, Betan-style. "Yes."
"But--how long…?" Had this been going on under his nose for the past ten years without him noticing?
"Very recently, I understand," Cordelia answered. "I don't know how Alys put up with him making her wait like that. I told her she should have just pounced on him years ago, it was obvious he worshipped the ground she walked on."
Not to me, Gregor thought.
"Though from what she tells me, it was worth waiting for."
Gregor looked inadvertantly at the approaching couple, and his eyes crossed. He made a private vow never, ever to raise this subject with Cordelia again. On some topics, ignorance was bliss.
*
He was a grown man. He was thirty years old and a captain in the Barrayaran army. He could do this.
"Mother?"
She didn't seem to hear him at first, gazing into the distance, smiling a little. Could she be daydreaming? Ivan didn't want to contemplate it.
"Mother?"
"What is it, dear?" She looked up, and he knew that in her eyes he was still six years old with two scraped knees, taking the blame for one of Miles' exploits. How on earth could he put this? What was the right way to ask one's mother if she was serious about her new lover or was just screwing around? Maman probably knew what the correct etiquette was for this, but it had never come up in her many lectures.
"About, um, you and, um, Captain Illyan..."
"Yes, dear?"
"Are… I mean, do you, um, will you…" He trailed off. "Never mind."
*