Chapter Text
He was cold. And wet. He didn’t much mind being cold, but he hated being cold and wet. It had been raining - closer to sleet, actually - when they arrived at the safe house earlier, but it was going to snow soon. Very soon - he could smell it. They had been forced to leave so suddenly, practically as soon as they arrived, that in the confusion and rush, the armsman who had scooped up two year old toddler Galina from her cot, wrapped in a thin, old down comforter, had neglected to take her fleece-lined outerwear. No coat, no hat, not even her mittens, poor little thing! So what choice did he have, really, but to offer her his own cap and mittens (a Winterfair gift, hand-knitted by his grandmother, in a shockingly unmilitary multi-colored pattern, but wonderfully warm). The Princess, though grateful, objected at first, but little Galina was sick, it was getting colder, and the badly-worn comforter just was not enough protection from the rapidly worsening weather conditions. Turning up the collar of his own sheepskin jacket, he shoved his hands in his pockets, assuring her he’d be fine - it would only be for a short while, and their fast pace would surely keep him plenty warm enough until they reached safety.
It was that fast pace that had him worried. To avoid the road with its possible Ceta search parties, Sergeant Kuprianov had decided to lead their little group downslope quickly, to the shore of Long Lake, and put as much distance between themselves and the cabin as possible before deciding what to do about contacting the General’s forces. It was easier walking along the shoreline than in the mountainside forest - he certainly had no argument with that, especially with Armsman Hrysczenko carrying Galina - but they were so exposed out in the open like this, in his opinion. Not that anyone would ask. He was keenly aware of his place and knew enough not to offer it. He’d heard that the Cetas had recently implemented aerial surveillance drones in the District, and that left their little group even more vulnerable, in his opinion, not that anyone asked. Only when it started to snow in earnest did the sergeant direct them back upslope, away from their open position at the water’s edge. It had become increasingly slow going, the rocky shore becoming icy and slick as the temperature continued to drop. The recent warm spell had broken up the lake ice, but the floes, driven by the northerly winds, had accumulated on the southern end of Long Lake, or their progress would have been considerably slower, dangerously so. Their tracks were becoming alarmingly visible, to his dismay. Heading up into the trees was a good tactical move now. He approved, not that anyone would ask. The thick pine forest created a natural canopy that would provide cover from the drones and some needed shelter from the snow. Breathing a sigh of relief, for that much at least, he rammed his icy hands deeper into his jacket pockets.
The General and his oldest son were at one of his highly mobile camps while he planned a raid on a newly discovered Ceta supply cache. The Princess was not at all happy that Selig, at ten years old, was staying with his father. Unsafe, she had insisted vehemently, much too risky. In spite of her extreme and quite vocal disapproval, the General prevailed. Selig, of course, was thrilled. Huh! What boy his age wouldn’t be? That was pretty much to be expected. In his opinion, not that anyone ever would ask, there was very likely to be some major Vorkosigan family fireworks about that in the near future, seeing how upset the Princess was. She didn't want either of her boys involved in any of this! There would be plenty of time for that when they were older, she had told the General in no uncertain terms, if the Cetas were still on Barrayar - implying they had better NOT be! The Princess was Vorbarra, after all, and did not take kindly to having her wishes ignored, especially when her children were concerned.
The safe house had turned out to be not much safer, for any of them. Their usual entourage - the Princess and the children (minus Selig this time), plus assorted armsmen and several of the General’s most trusted men, led by the twice-twenty year veteran Sergeant Kuprianov - had arrived at the tiny, deserted cabin on the mountainside shortly after a dim, midwinter sun had risen, having traveled under cover of darkness as they often did. It was a place they had used several times before. Primitive, yes - but warm, dry, and above all, very isolated. Armsman Maksymiw had quickly gotten the old fireplace going and the family started getting their belongings squared away for what had been planned to be a five-day stay. The very fussy Galina had been put to bed immediately. Everyone was bone-tired, as the sergeant had pushed their pace relentlessly, wanting to get them to the cabin before the anticipated heavy snowfall in the forecast began. A kettle he had filled with water from the well and put on the hearth for their tea had begun steaming as the Princess put some brillberry jam and honey on the table after slicing a loaf of bread. Sleep, though, that was what everyone wanted. They were all too tired to eat much more than what would be a very meager breakfast.
A sharp whistle sounded suddenly from outside - a warning alert! The sergeant rushed out, he followed hard on his heels. One of the corporals on guard was holding the reins of a very agitated horse, while the ragged Dendarii youth riding it told the sergeant they had to leave - ASAP! One of the General’s undercover agents had gotten word from a reliable source that the cabin had been compromised. Sergeant Kuprianov swore vehemently and colorfully. Some people really have a talent for it, he thought admiringly, and the sergeant was a true artist! The sergeant was of the opinion that the General had a traitor in his midst, willing to deliver his wife and children to the Cetas for a price. He swore again, even more colorfully than before, declaring that it had damn well better be an astronomical price - the Cetas could bloody well afford it! If anyone had asked him, not that anyone would, he figured it was more likely just some poor Vorkosigan District hillman in dire circumstances, maybe with a sick child or two and too many hungry mouths to feed, forced by this unusually harsh winter to betray his liege lord. There were, he knew, far too many in that category these days.
While those inside grabbed their coats and began to collect their belongings, the young Dendarii, nearly hysterical, yelled that there was no time to pack. They had to drop everything and leave. Immediately! No telling how soon the Cetas might be there and capture them all! Corporal Luchkowsky and some of the armsmen would stay behind to try and hold the Cetas off as long as possible while the sergeant led the rest of them as far away as they could get, with Armsman Hrysczenko carrying Galina. The young Dendarii on horseback would try to get word to the General that his family had been forced to flee. The problem was, he didn’t know where the General was currently encamped. The camp was constantly relocating, sometimes staying for only a day in any given location - hard to hit a moving target, as the General was fond of saying. At the moment, none of their group knew exactly where the camp was. It was widely acknowledged to be safer that way. If captured, none of them could give the General away. They were also under the standard electronic communications blackout while on the road, communicating by trusted couriers on foot or horseback, and sometimes even carrier pigeons.
Within five minutes of getting the alarm, their party was rapidly scurrying downhill toward the lake. Once there, the pebbly shore made quick progress difficult, especially with Galina being carried, slowing them up even further. No one complained. In a little less than fifteen minutes, they heard distant weapons fire from the direction they had fled. It was a good sign, he told himself, that it lasted as long as it did. Their people were putting up a good fight, delaying the Cetas’ search for them. In his opinion, with this much lead time, even under such poor conditions, they had a fighting chance of getting out of this alive. Not that anyone would ask...
***
The sergeant halted them in the forest after their upward trek from the shore. Snowfall was scant under the trees, almost non-existent, at least for now. In his opinion, it was not the best strategic choice under the circumstances - not quite far back enough from the road. He would have kept them further away to increase their chances of not being seen or heard by possible passing Cetas, even though it would make it more difficult to keep a lookout for help if and when it arrived. Not that anyone would ask, of course, and he had to struggle with himself not to offer it. The sergeant decided that he and Armsman Hrysczenko would have to try to find the camp, or at least some of their forces on patrol, to get word to the General of where the rest of their party was holed up so he could send help, with horses, hopefully. The lake precluded a location to the west, and the steepness of the slope to east on the other side of the road made that direction highly unlikely, although the caves above the treeline couldn’t be ruled out. Not likely, he knew, but not impossible, either. The General had used the caves before, but rarely in winter, as getting to them in icy, snowy conditions was extremely difficult and dangerous. Sergeant Kuprianov, after putting him in charge, headed north; the armsman south, both at an urgent run.
The day continued cold and gloomy, seeming longer than it was without food or shelter. The first thing he did was move the family further back into the forest, away from the road, out of sight and out of earshot. He kept busy making the trek back and forth to the road, which was hardly more than a single lane muddy path at best, to watch for the help he fervently hoped would be coming soon.
A few hours before sundown, the snow was beginning to accumulate a little even this far back under the trees, on the already soggy ground. The Princess was distraught, not for herself so much, but for her daughter, who was feverish again. He offered her his heavy jacket as something dry for them to sit on. She protested, reminding him he’d already sacrificed his cap and gloves to the cause. He laughed it off, trying to ease her distress and convince her he was plenty warm enough - Everyone knew he was always too hot, he told her jokingly, hoping she’d buy it. They didn’t call him the human hot water bottle for nothing! To convince her further, he added that he was following his grandmother’s sound advice and wearing his best winterweight thermal underwear, pulling up his tunic to show her. (If there was one thing all Barrayarans knew in their bones, it was the value of proper, heavy-duty winter underwear!) And he’d stay warm... well, warm enough, anyway, from being on the move, alternating between keeping tabs on them and watching the road for their anticipated rescuers. He didn’t know if he managed to convince her or not, but the Princess finally accepted the use of his jacket with heartfelt thanks and a tear in her eye. He tried not to think too much about that...
He had to do something, and quickly, while they still had daylight, such as it was - to make some kind of shelter, or a windbreak at the very least. Without a saw or hatchet, he was forced to rely on fallen pine branches. His exertions warmed him as he knew they would. A bit too much - he worked up a sweat despite the cold, which was exacerbated by the wind. Fortunately, not that much wind - that could be lethal as sweaty as he was getting. It did however, force him to slow down and cool himself off gradually from time to time, delaying his progress nearly as much as the back-and-forth to the road was. He finally managed to construct a very crude windbreak before it got completely dark, the best he could do under the circumstances. Not really all that much good as a windbreak, he knew - not tightly woven enough for that - but not half bad as a lean-to. It could be angled in any direction to fend off the incoming snow. It would have to do.
It gave him a brief moment of pride as he returned from one of his periodic trips back to the road. In the darkness, the shelter and the Vorkosigans behind it were only visible, and quite dimly at that, if you knew just where to look. Being the natural worry-wart he was, that moment passed quickly. He mentally groused that if he’d had more to work with, he could have done a much better job. The thought of how soundly his grandmother would berate him if she knew what he was thinking just then made him resolve to stop fretting over things he couldn’t change and concentrate his efforts on those he could. A lot easier said than done, unfortunately...
That night seemed endless. Despite his earlier assurances to the Princess, he was cold. He’d never been this cold for this long before, and discovered he did mind. Too late to do anything about that now… Keeping moving helped, but not nearly enough. It was worse while watching in the relative open out from under the trees near the road. The snow began blowing and drifting a bit, slowing his progress. That worried him. A lot. He hated being away from the road for any length of time, not wanting to miss the signal if help arrived. Not if, he harshly scolded himself, but when. He had to believe that. He had to keep the family believing that. For a brief panicky moment, he began to second-guess his decision to hide out of sight of the road, but forced himself to stay calm and carry on - to just focus on the job at hand and do the best he could with what he had, which was precious little. Anyone could see that, he tried to convince himself...
The second day dawned, as cold and grey as the previous one had been. His stomach growled. They’d been forced to flee yesterday before breakfast, and he wasn’t sure when it was he’d eaten last. Too long ago, that much was certain! He was sleepy, having kept watch over the family behind the shelter throughout the night, and the repeated jogs back and forth to the road were exhausting, but he couldn’t complain - they were all cold, hungry and tired. If a sick little girl could deal with it, no one was going to hear a word of complaint out of him! He was sorely tempted, though, to sit down and close his eyes just for a minute, but he was keenly aware of his great responsibility. Someone as young as he would usually never get such a chance, and he intended to make the most of it.
***
Late that morning, Galina was having a prolonged coughing bout, just as his worst fear was realized. A Ceta convoy was passing, heading north! He kept telling himself they couldn’t possibly hear her from the road. Their vehicles, while much less noisy than Barrayarans’ would be, still made some noise - it ought to be enough to drown out her coughing, if indeed it could be heard from the road at all. No time to check it out now... He mentally smacked himself on the forehead for missing that and not checking it out sooner. Were the Cetas looking for them, or was it just coincidence? Coincidence, he decided - it looked like a supply convoy. But was it, or was it just cover? Would they go through so much trouble, getting repeatedly bogged down on the road the way they were just for cover? His mind raced in too many directions... he had to do something, and fast. Get a grip! he scolded himself. Focus! Breathe!
A distraction, he decided, was what was needed, just in case the Cetas were looking for them. He had to lead them away from the Princess and her hiding place. Almost without conscious thought, a plan of sorts emerged. Well, bits of one, anyway.… it was all happening too fast! He stood up openly by the side of the road, letting himself be seen for a brief instant, and as he expected, one of the Cetas in a open groundcar noticed him, or the movement, at any rate - pointing him out to his companion. An open groundcar! he scoffed. Who does that, in winter? In his opinion, Cetas could be such idiots at times! Not that anyone would ever ask...
Taking off at a full sprint, he quickly crossed the road into the trees on the other side, turning back for a split second to see if they were taking the bait. They were. YES!!! It was common knowledge Cetas were disinclined to do anything quite so - well, primitive, he’d have to call it - as actually run, on their own two feet. He hoped they would, but it surprised him nevertheless. He fairly flew into the forest. They continued to follow. In his opinion, not that anyone would ask, they were comically inept in the wild. Out here in these forests, even the dullest witted Dendarii child could run rings around them, blindfolded and with one hand tied behind his or her back! That thought gave him a tiny spark of hope...
He stopped, pausing behind a tree, listening to them, as they made no effort to be as silent as possible in pursuit of their prey - him! With his keen hearing, he heard one of them trying to convince the other to turn back - “It’s probably just some local moonshiner trying to lead us away from his illegal still,” he said, his voice fairly dripping with disdain. “They’re thick on the ground in these parts. That rotgut they make will peel the paint off the hull of a battlecruiser.” The other, a mid-rank, painted-faced ghem-lord, wasn’t so easily convinced or deterred, and continued his clumsy, noisy advance. His reluctant partner followed, grumbling under his breath, cursing nearly as colorfully as Sergeant Kuprianov had yesterday.
He ran further into the deepening darkness, hearing the Ceta pair in pursuit behind him. He drew up abruptly at the edge of a steep drop. Oh, oh, he told himself, maybe this isn’t one of your better ideas. He didn’t allow himself to panic - no time for that... Nearly 100% sure they’d never follow him (it was the ‘nearly’ that really bothered him), he jumped, fingers crossed, hoping for the best. It was a really stupid plan, running blindly into unfamiliar territory - he knew that, and knew someone would ask this time - but what choice did he have? He couldn’t allow himself be captured. When he reached the end of the sheer drop, he bounced a few times, painfully, before sliding head first the rest of the way down on the remaining slope, hitting his head on something at the bottom and passing out.
When he came to, he fought off a wave of panic, mostly because he couldn’t tell how long he’d been unconscious. He was stiff and cold from the lack of movement, sore all over, mud-covered from stem to stern, and had a galloping headache. Worry almost paralyzed him: Were the Cetas still there? Was the Princess safe? Had he missed the signal? How was he ever going to get back up? Looking up at the climb facing him, he wondered glumly why he had ever been so hell-bent on being given real responsibility. He could hear his grandmother’s no-nonsense voice in his head: You’ve always wanted responsibility, kiddo. You’ve got it now, big time. Pull up your big boy pants and deal with it!
Right, then. Deal with it... The first thing he had to do was get back up there. There’d be plenty of time to worry later once he knew exactly what the situation was. He had so desperately wanted to be noticed. Well, this was going to be seriously attention-getting if they ever got out of here, and he was determined to make sure it was the right kind of attention. Fear of the General’s wrath was proving to be an excellent motivator!
***
He managed, eventually, with very little recollection of exactly how and with the accumulation of a great deal of mud, to make his way up and back to the rude little shelter to find the family still safely hidden. Practically giddy with relief, he mentally congratulated himself, then attempted to steady his shaking knees. After calming himself down, he resolutely resumed his weary treks back and forth to and from the road, anxiously watching and waiting.
Late in the afternoon, on his way back to the road after checking on the family, the thought of spending yet another cold, hungry night outdoors filled him with dread. The deep woods in winter were no place for children, and certainly not for a princess. Little Galina was getting sicker, her coughing now much worse. What was taking so long? Why hadn’t anyone come for them yet? Had something happened to the General? While imagining far too many horrific reasons, each more dire than the previous one, he was startled out of his grim daydream by the call of a bird.
The signal! He ran even faster than he’d run from the Cetas the rest of the way to his lookout point, and after pausing a few seconds to catch his breath, gave the proper reply. His heart thudded wildly as he listened for the correct response to his own whistle, which would indicate the rescue party had not been compromised. He waited… breathless…
There it was! Finally!!! Saved! Ecstatic, he nearly ran back to the shelter right then and there to give the Princess the wonderful news, but settled himself down with an effort. To his great surprise, there was only a single horseman, with a second horse in tow. Even more surprising, the rider was none other than Colonel Ezar Vorbarra. Why would the General’s second-in-command be out looking for them? he puzzled, but put the question aside. No doubt he’d learn the answer soon enough. He made himself known to the officer, warned him of the recent Ceta sighting, and led him and the horses into the forest, toward the shelter and the Princess. Colonel Vorbarra was dressed in rather shabby civilian clothes, obviously in an attempt to pass as a Dendarii if he ran into the Cetas, but his horses, two of the General’s finest, would have given him away in a heartbeat. Or maybe not - in his opinion, the Cetas could be awfully dense when it came to obvious things like that. Not that anyone would ask.
To his very great astonishment, the Colonel actually did ask for his opinion. And even more amazingly, agreed with him! Huh! He didn’t quite know what to make of that. Not wanting to push his luck, he silently led the officer and the horses deeper into the forest, until they came to the rough pine wall. He pulled it back to reveal the Princess Olivia and little Galina, huddled close together in a cold, miserable-looking clump.
“Look, Mama,” he said, “Colonel Vorbarra’s come to take us to Father.”
“What a surprise to see you here, Ezar,” the Princess said, as they shared a long heartfelt embrace. “A very pleasant surprise, indeed. It’s been such a long time.”
“I just happened to be in the right place at the right time, Livy. Happy to be of service,” the Colonel replied.
He was astonished yet again - stunned, really - when Colonel Vorbarra told his mother that he wasn’t a bad little soldier! Even though he had only vague memories of the last time Mama’s cousin had spent time with their family, he definitely remembered liking the man very much. At the moment, he couldn’t remember ever being so happy to see someone in his life! It was such a relief, knowing that somebody else was now in charge. With that huge weight off his shoulders, it was hard to keep his frozen feet firmly on the ground, feeling like he was about to float away like a balloon! In his opinion, after the experience of the past two days, command and responsibility were highly overrated. He’d be more than happy to wait a few more years for another go at it. Not that anyone would ask...