Captain Vorpatril's Alliance

Chapter Twenty-Five

When orders were dropped from that high up, they packed a lot of momentum when they hit ground level, in Ivan’s experience. So he wasn’t surprised when things, which had seemed to be hovering in a holding pattern for the past four days, moved fast.

Deportation was to be the cover story, it turned out, which had the added advantage of being perfectly true. Just not perfectly complete. Since the members of House Cordonah were, for their own reasons, as anxious to depart as Barrayar was to be rid of them, they swallowed the appearance of defeat and disgrace without choking, much. And also the excellent farewell luncheon smoothly supplied by Dowager Lady Vorpatril.

After, everyone was escorted by the ImpSec guards downstairs to pack except Lady ghem Estif, captured by Duv Galeni and carried off to Simon’s office, along with a keenly interested Simon. The two hours they were closeted, Duv indicated to Ivan when they all emerged, were not nearly enough for a century’s worth of debriefing.

“I’m going to send an analyst along on their jumpship as far as Komarr, or maybe Pol Station,” he told Ivan, simultaneously calling up contact codes on his wristcom. “And one of Helen Vorthys’s post-docs or grad students, if she can scramble one in time. That’ll give five to ten more days. Damn I wish I could go myself.” He made his hurried call to the surprised but interested Professora. Chasing down one of his own people took a little longer, scattered all over town as they were at the moment, but at that point, all he had to do was snap commands, and some poor ImpSec schmuck’s Winterfair plans were sudden smoke. Ivan hoped there would be compensations.

“There’ll be a couple of dozen theses on the declassified papers alone,” Duv predicted confidently. “With honors.”

Well, that was probably someone’s idea of a reward, yeah. Because there was no accounting for taste. “You’re classifying this stuff? After a hundred years? Isn’t that paranoid even for ImpSec?”

“We’ll be declassifying most of it as fast as we can get through it. But there are some things about the old ghem-junta…never mind.” His lips compressed. And opened again to release a, “But you know that history book I gave Lady Tej?”

“Yes…?”

“I think there may have to be a new edition.”

Ivan walked him out to the hallway; by the time Duv reached the lift tubes in the penthouse foyer, he was jogging, and fielding more calls from his wristcom. Eight billion marks, Ivan couldn’t help thinking, and he worries more about the papers…

Or the truth, perhaps. What price that?

Gregor was providing a courtesy military jump pilot and crew for Vormercier’s yacht for the run to the borders of the empire at Pol Station. This, Ivan gathered, was to make sure they arrived 1) there and 2) nowhere else. The ten days of travel time would be plenty to tightbeam ahead and arrange whatever commercial crew the Arquas wanted to hire on for the next leg. Vetted, Ivan trusted, for ingenious bounty hunters. Jet would be rejoining the Jewels, but Amiri was to travel with his family only as far as Komarr, then transfer to a government courier vessel for a free ride to Escobar, and a safe delivery back to the Durona Clinic. Any stray bounty hunter who made it that far would be Lily Durona and Mark Vorkosigan’s problem; or rather, vice versa. Definitely vice versa, Ivan reflected.

His life was simplifying nicely. But not, Ivan trusted, too much. A little uneasy, he took the lift tube down from his mother’s flat to find Tej.

Tej, when she’d had about as much as she could stand of listening to Amiri burble about how happy he was to be going back to Escobar, wandered into her parents’ temporary bedroom. The flat had been hastily furnished with rental beds and a few sofas and chairs, the night they’d all been dumped in here by the Barrayaran authorities; a lot of the meals had been taken upstairs at Lady Alys’s place. No one had urged anything more permanent.

The Baronne and Lady Alys, or rather, Lady Alys’s competent dresser under their joint supervision, was just finishing packing. The Baronne was remarking, “…not my plan at all, but it will certainly do. Flexibility, as Shiv says.”

She broke off and both mothers looked across at Tej as she entered, Lady Alys rather bemusedly, the Baronne…her lips tightened, but not in anger.

Lady Alys, tactful as always, murmured, “I should just see to a few things upstairs, Udine. I hope to speak with you later, Tej, dear.” Motioning her dresser to close the case and follow, she withdrew. Tej wasn’t sure if she was grateful or not. Spacious as the flat was, the Arquas had more than filled it; that, and all the disruptions of the past few days, had allowed Tej to dodge intimate tête-à-têtes pretty much since the rescue.

The Baronne plucked at her bangs, her new nervous gesture. Tej hoped her hair would grow out quickly.

“Have you packed?” the Baronne asked abruptly.

Tej swallowed. Straightened. “No. Nor am I going to.”

The Baronne eyed the set of her chin. “You know, when you father and I told you to go with your Barrayaran husband the other day, it was merely because we hoped you could thus avoid arrest, or whatever other retribution the Barrayarans had in mind.”

“Yes, I got that.”

“We certainly didn’t mean…”

“Mean it?” Tej suggested.

The Baronne cleared her throat. “It was a ploy, Tej. It was not possible, at that moment, to predict that events were going to turn out so favorably. We wanted to protect you. If not ourselves, then someone…”

Someone needed to baby-sit me? If Rish was going to be out of the job. “Yes. But when I said I would stay with Ivan Xav, I meant it.”

The Baronne made an abortive gesture. “The cars are coming to take us all to the shuttleport in another hour. Surely too short a time to make such a permanent life-bargain in.”

I made it in a minute, the first time…Well, provisionally.

“How long did it take you to decide you wanted Dada?” Tej asked, suddenly curious.

“That is neither here nor there,” said the Baronne. “Circumstances were very different.”

“I see,” said Tej, biting her lip to hide a smile.

“Also, wanting and arranging are two different things. The latter requires planning…action…sometimes, sometimes…

“Flexibility?”

“Yes.” The Baronne, realizing she was being diverted, tracked back. “Anyway, if you won’t—your Dada and I were thinking—perhaps you could ride along with us. At least as far as Pol Station. It would give us more time together.”

Tej controlled a shudder at the vision. Her and her entire family, packed into what Byerly had implied was a not-very-large spaceship, with less escape possible than from an underground bunker. We just had twenty-five years together, Baronne. Don’t you think it’s time for a break? “I thought I’d say my good-byes right here. The military shuttleport isn’t that much of a treat—I’ve seen it—and they’ll be wisking you all through, I expect.”

“I expect,” echoed the Baronne, only not-disagreeing because she couldn’t, at least about the shuttleport. “This all seems so rushed.”

“We’ve had the past four days. You must have guessed something like this was coming.”

“Or some Barrayaran incarceration. Which would have required an entirely novel plan. We’ve not been saying good-bye for the past four days!”

I was. No one noticed. Although they’d all had a lot else on their minds, to be fair. “Also, I get jump-sick, and that would be ten jumps. Five each way.”

“You…might decide not to go back. You could choose freely, once you reached Pol Station.”

Yes, I thought that might be your secret plan. “There would be more jumps, going on. And”—Tej took a deep breath, only partly for control—“I can choose freely right here. Right now. And I have.” Do I have to, like, yell?

Thankfully not; because the Baronne, after a silence, responded, “I suppose you will be safer here. At least for the immediate future.”

Her family, Tej was reminded, wasn’t exactly going directly home. Although Fell Station, as long as the old Baron was in charge, was going to make a reasonably secure initial base. “You’ll have Byerly,” she offered, then paused in doubt, in tandem with the Baronne. “And a war chest of, what was it, four hundred million Barrayaran marks?”

“That’s only one hundred million, in Betan dollars,” the Baronne was swift to point out. “A few serious bribes, some competent mercenaries, and it will dwindle in a hurry. Five percent, that tricky dealer Gregor got us down to!” This was not, Tej understood, a point against Gregor, personally.

“I’m sure you and Dada will be able to makes ends meet somehow,” Tej soothed her. “You’re both very clever.”

“It will be a challenge,” the Baronne…didn’t quite grumble. “But when I get my hands on those Prestenes, the retribution will be famous.”

“Yes, make them pay,” Tej agreed cordially, glad to give her mother’s thoughts this more positive direction. By her standards.

“What do you see in that Barrayaran boy, anyway?” the Baronne asked querulously, dodging back despite Tej’s best efforts. “He just doesn’t seem very ambitious.”

“Mm,” said Tej. One woman’s defect is another woman’s delight? “I suppose…it’s all the things he sees in me.” That you don’t.

The Baronne peered at her in doubt. “Which are what, Tej-love? Besides your figure, clearly.” She waved away this as a given, at least with respect—or lack of respect—to Ivan Xav.

Everything, Baronne. On the other hand…was it really necessary to bloody her forehead trying to solve a problem already going away on its own? Within the hour, at that. That seemed a very Ivan Xav approach. So restful. The great charm of her and the Baronne living on two different planets, Tej decided, was that they could both stop trying to fix each other. She grinned crookedly, leaned up, and gave her mother a peck on the cheek, instead. “An appreciation of his figure.”

“Really, Tej!” But the Baronne’s hand stole to the kissed spot nonetheless.

Dada and Byerly arrived back then, the Baron with a heartening bustle, and Ivan Xav strolled in on their heels, ending this little mother-daughter ordeal. Moment. Again. Until the next time. Tej wondered if it would be redundant to think, Don’t ever change, Baronne.

Tej, Rish, Byerly, and Ivan Xav rendezvoused briefly in the living room, as the luggage was staged around them.

“So how did it go with Ser Imola?” Tej asked By.

“Succinctly.” By tilted a hand. “I was sent in part to impede long conversations, but it wasn’t necessary. You could just see the man fold into himself.” He added after a contemplative moment, “And prison-smock orange is so not Imola’s color. It was all quite, quite satisfying.”

“And you?” Ivan Xav asked.

Byerly grimaced, though a speculative glance under his unfairly long lashes at the listening Rish undercut his put-upon air. “Running around like a mad thing, of course. I’m going to have to leave a moving company to clear my apartment and put it all in storage. I packed last night—it was like trying to decide what to grab from a burning building. The story is I’m shipping out just ahead of imminent arrest for collusion with your in-laws for grand-theft-history. I am to be a Barrayaran renegade.” He struck a pose. “Rake’s regress, or something.”

“I’m sure you’ll do well,” Tej tried to console him.

“It’s bloody Jackson’s Whole. Where enemies are killed and eaten.”

“We do not!” said Rish indignantly.

Byerly waved this away. “I speak, of course, metaphorically.” Though he looked as if he weren’t entirely sure.

“Well, if you get in over your head, just try channeling your great-great-grandfather Bloody Pierre,” advised Ivan Xav. He added after a moment, “Or your great-great-grandmother. For you, either one.”

By cast a sneer at him.

Ivan Xav grinned, undaunted. He explained aside to Tej and Rish, “It was said that the only two people Le Sanguinaire feared were his wife, and Dorca Vorbarra. And no one’s too sure about Dorca.”

“Really?” said Tej, the golden glasses they’d all been drinking tunnel water from the other night becoming more interesting in retrospect.

“Vorrutyer family history,” By told her, “is the very essence of unreliable news source. Don’t listen to Vorpatril.” He sighed. “Though it is evident that you will. Congratulations, Ivan, if I failed to say that earlier.”

“Thank you,” Ivan Xav returned, bland.

And then it was time to all pitch in and help carry things down to the garage, where three luxurious governmental groundcars were pulled up waiting. Going out in style? Tej detected Lady Alys’s diplomatic hand at work; the Arquas might as easily have been carted away in one big prison van.

A pair of men in black-and-silver livery arrived in a separate, quite unremarkable groundcar, and transferred to the boot of one of the other vehicles a pair of familiar, heavy boxes, with old Ninth Satrapy seals on the tops. The senior of them approached the Baron and Baronne, and saluted.

“My Imperial master’s compliments, sir, and he commends to you this souvenir of your visit. May it help to speed you on your way.”

Dada’s brows shot up. Tej tried to calculate the value, in either Barrayaran marks or Betan dollars, of forty-four kilos of old Cetagandan gold coins, but ran afoul of her lack of experience with the antiquities market.

“Precisely two boxes out of forty,” murmured Dada. “Five percent. How scrupulous of him.” He raised his voice to the Vorbarra armsman. “Tell your Imperial master that Baron and Baronne Cordonah are as pleased to accept his memento as he is to bestow it.”

A little edged, don’t you think, Dada? But the armsman took it in expressionlessly, and marched off with his fellow to, Tej was fairly sure, deliver the words verbatim. The bulk of the payout would arrive later, by some boring tightbeam transfer. With a meticulous deduction for this payment-in-kind but, she was sure, otherwise in full.

Lady Alys and Simon arrived from upstairs, lending a touch of formality to the final farewell. Dada came over to Ivan Xav and Tej, standing together.

“They tell me,” he said, “that in some Barrayaran weddings, the father is expected to give away the bride. That struck me as valuing her much too low.”

“Just a figure of speech, sir,” Ivan Xav assured him, looking amused. “In actual high Vor marriages, the behind-the-scenes dealings over the details of the marriage contract can go on for months.”

“Well, that’s a little better,” the Baron allowed. “Your Gregor has to have obtained his skills from somewhere.”

Ivan Xav added, as if by way of consolation, “And, after all, you’re getting Byerly in trade.”

The Baron smiled thinly. “Yes, I know…” He turned to his daughter. “Your mother tells me, Tej, that she did convey our invitation for you to ride along to Pol Station, yes?”

“Yes, Dada,” said Tej. “But I’m staying right here.” She gripped Ivan Xav’s arm firmly; he covered her hand with his own.

“You know me—there’s no such thing as a last chance this side of death,” said Dada. “If ever you want to come home…”

“Thank you, Dada,” said Tej, wondering how many karma points she was totting up for not pointing out that actually, he hadn’t secured a home for her to come to, yet. It had better be a lot. On impulse, she pulled him aside, placed her hands on his shoulders, and looked him in the eye. It was a shock to her to discover they were the same height.

“Look at it this way, Dada. You’re coming away from Barrayar with everyone’s freedom, a ride, and a war chest. Not to mention the covert alliance with The Gregor. I can’t imagine any House heir alive who could match that bride-price, right now. It’s princely, more literally than anyone here quite lets on.” Barrayarans! “And do you think that you’d have had any of it if I hadn’t married Ivan Xav?”

“Mm…”

“You’ve got a great deal here. Don’t screw it up!”

“But I didn’t deal, not for him,” he returned, in some very Dada-ish frustration. “And I always meant to, for you!”

“I understand.” The corners of her mouth tugged up. “But Ivan Xav is a gift.”

She leaned, not up, but over, and kissed him on the cheek. It worked to divert him, too, from his argument—he patted her in distraction. She led him back, and linked arms with her Barrayaran husband once more.

“So…take good care of her, then, Captain Vorpatril.” Formally, Dada shook Ivan Xav’s free hand. His eyes narrowed right down, suddenly cold and hard; his grip did not loosen. “And you’d better believe that I can find some way to touch you, if you don’t.”

“No doubt at all, sir!” Ivan Xav assured him. He flinched under the pressure of that stare, and paw, but, she was proud to see, didn’t step back.

“That’s not necessary, Dada,” said Tej through her teeth.

“Yes, yes, Tej, love…”

And it was all swallowed up in last embraces, waves, cries, the clicking of silvered canopies, the hiss of groundcar engines, and…silence. More golden than Cetagandan coins.

Rubbing his hand on his trouser seam, Ivan Xav said plaintively. “Is asking Who can I kill for you? usually how people say I love you in Jacksonian?”

“No, just Dada,” Tej sighed. “Though the Baronne is more dangerous—she might not ask.”

“Ee,” said Ivan Xav.

“I’ve been reading your histories,” said Tej, giving him a hug. “Don’t try to tell me some of your ancestors didn’t think the same way. Starting with your Aunt Cordelia’s famous Winterfair gift to your Uncle Aral, and she wasn’t even Barrayaran! Severed heads, really?”

“Only the one,” he protested. “And I,” he added, drawing himself up with dignity, “am a much more modern Barrayaran.”

Tej pressed a smile out straight. “I’m sure you are, Lord Vorpatril.”

Their meeting the next morning with The Gregor was very short.

“Ylla?” said Ivan Xav in a confounded voice. “Where the hell is Ylla?”