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Ivan does not successfully get Miles to stop fussing with the thing (Miles takes an impression of its impressions on a plastic flimsy) or convince him to leave it somewhere other than inside the bedchamber (it is in a drawer) nor get him to actually tell Vorreedi as promised (Vorreedi is dealing with importation infractions out of town; this is, Miles says, nothing to do with him). He does, however, get Miles (who complains about not having had warning about all this downtime such that he could have scheduled leg bone replacement surgery) to their ride to the party, on time and in uniform.
The Marilacan embassy is, Vorob'yev says, to be regarded as neutral yet non-secured territory - they can enjoy themselves, among fellow offworlders and some ghem-lords. Vorob'yev entertains them - so to speak - on the way by remarking on the Marilacan strategic situation; they've apparently been taking lots of help from Ceteganda, are ignoring their womhole maps and don't think Cetaganda would ever backstab them and blah blah. There is also more fascinating gossip about suicides with... "uncooperative principals", but not much of it; the topic soon drifts to the fact that the party may yield gossip that they should report to Vorreedi when he's back. Along with certain other things they should report to Vorreedi.
"Try not to give away more than you gain," Vorob'yev says.
"Well, I'm safe," remarks Ivan. "I don't know anything." A position of safety he'd dearly like to be able to cultivate more, coz, hint hint.
The Marilacan embassy is pretty, and scans their guests; Ivan does at least know enough to have left the nerve disruptor behind. There's an art project - Ivan doesn't rightly know what sort of thing to call it; a sculpture? With a water feature? And flying colorful flakes? The Marilacan ambassador, Berneaux, says it's called Autumn Leaves, anyway, so it's an Autumn Leaves - and then both lieutenants are shooed. The hors d'oeuvres are excellent. There is wine. Ivan can at this point get rid of his cousin and see if there are any ladies who could benefit from his company about.
Oh now there is one.
Ivan sets about charming the probably-at-least-an-eighth-haut ghem-lady as best he knows how. Mutants on purpose may be mutants still but pretty on purpose is pretty still likewise. He knows tact, at least with girls. He gets her (Lady Gelle) to laugh. Miles is wandering back in his direction again, but whatever, Miles probably isn't going to compete with him for elbow room here.
Then they're approached by some ghem-lord, Yenaro apparently, who mercifully doesn't seem to be related to or involved with the girl, and indeed obliquely congratulates her on having located "galactic exotics". Good, Ivan has been trading on the right characteristic with her so far. Gelle introduces Ivan, and prompts Ivan to introduce Miles, to Yenaro. They talk ancient history, grandfathers and who's at fault for events of the war - apparently they call it the Barrayaran War here.
Gelle kindly diverts the subject to the art piece, which is Yenaro's handiwork. He insults her stylistic choices and Ivan takes the opening to compliment her; if she's looking for sophisticated Cetegandan taste over appreciative galactic obliviousness Ivan can't help her, but he can show off the latter to best effect in case it'll sell. Yenaro chooses this occasion to tell the lady that Ivan was born in the usual - well, the normal, anyway - fashion. Her revulsion is disheartening, although she seems to find Yenaro's behavior at least as obnoxious as she finds childbirth grotesque. Either way, the combination of the two sends her skating off into the crowd.
Yenaro fumbles and then coaxes them into touring the interior of his sculpture. Miles breaks off, but Ivan goes ahead and has a look, no use holding a grudge at the man for dissuading exactly one girl, however pretty she was. Miles is apparently more interested in talking to the forty-standard lady Vorob'yev has on his arm.
middlingalong
thisvorlunatic
"Mm..." Enough of this, Miles decides. He needs more information on the real problem. "That seal of the Star Crèche thing—I don't suppose you have a picture of it?"
Yes, it turns out, she does. Miles is so pleased. To his comconsole they go, and they browse through a succession of signs and seals until they come at last to a large cube with the screaming-bird motif engraved in its upper surface.
Well. So far, so good - it seems that whatever Miles has tucked away in his drawer, it's not a piece of the Imperial regalia, or at least not this piece.
Yes, it turns out, she does. Miles is so pleased. To his comconsole they go, and they browse through a succession of signs and seals until they come at last to a large cube with the screaming-bird motif engraved in its upper surface.
Well. So far, so good - it seems that whatever Miles has tucked away in his drawer, it's not a piece of the Imperial regalia, or at least not this piece.
middlingalong
Up until she shows them what she calls the Great Key of the Star Creche.
Ivan chokes on his wine.
Ivan chokes on his wine.
thisvorlunatic
Bugger.
"And, ah—just what is the Great Key of the Star Crèche, m'la—Maz? What does it do?" Nothing important, he fervently hopes.
"And, ah—just what is the Great Key of the Star Crèche, m'la—Maz? What does it do?" Nothing important, he fervently hopes.
middlingalong
"I'm not quite sure. At one time in the past, I believe it had something to do with data retrieval from the haut gene banks, but the actual device may only be ceremonial by now. I mean, it's a couple of hundred years old. It has to be obsolete."
"Miles," says Ivan under his breath.
"Miles," says Ivan under his breath.
thisvorlunatic
"Later," Miles mutters back at him. "I understand your concern." God, does he ever.
Ignoring the things Ivan chooses to mouth at him rather than say them out loud in front of a lady, Miles manufactures a look of poorly concealed pain. It's not a difficult task. The wonderfully polite Maz is eager to spare him further etiquette lessons in light of his injuries. She departs after minimal pleasantries.
Ignoring the things Ivan chooses to mouth at him rather than say them out loud in front of a lady, Miles manufactures a look of poorly concealed pain. It's not a difficult task. The wonderfully polite Maz is eager to spare him further etiquette lessons in light of his injuries. She departs after minimal pleasantries.
thisvorlunatic
"Yes," he says calmly. "I also know how we're going to get out of it. Do you know as much?"
thisvorlunatic
"If you will just leave it to me, I believe I can get this thing back to its rightful," what was the word, "custodian with no one the wiser."
middlingalong
Ivan makes an exasperated face, but leaves it at that with minimal muttering. There's really no talking Miles out of it, and Ivan isn't about to break ranks to deal with the reports on his own recognizance.
It is soon after this that they receive an (appropriately checked for poisons and the like) formal invitation to Yenaro's party.
It is soon after this that they receive an (appropriately checked for poisons and the like) formal invitation to Yenaro's party.
middlingalong
And when its bearer has departed, Ivan says:
"So tell me - how are you planning to get rid of the Empress's dildo?"
"So tell me - how are you planning to get rid of the Empress's dildo?"
thisvorlunatic
Miles snorts. "I can't tell you," he says loftily, touching a hand to one of his paired silver Horus-eye collar pins - the insignia of an ImpSec agent. Which Miles is. "There's a lady's reputation involved."
middlingalong
"Horseshit," pronounces Ivan. "Are you running some kind of secret rig for Simon Illyan?"
middlingalong
"Damned if I know." Ivan shakes his head, frustrated. "Well, it's your funeral."
The next day, with appropriate security arrangements in place, Miles and Ivan are both dropped off at Yenaro's house, which might appear next to a glossary entry for the term "genteel poverty". Background checks have indicated that Yenaro has never been a sculptor, which lends support to the "trap" over "accident" hypothesis, but into his den they walk regardless.
Ivan puts the various cautions out of his mind and flirts with the pretty ghem girls. There are several who don't seem to mind being flirted with in a batch, of which Ivan thoroughly approves. Miles wanders upstairs with Yenaro to investigate the incense lab, whether out of an appreciation for incense, a curiosity about Yenaro personally, or a despair of collecting a spare girl, Ivan does not know.
Miles eventually comes back down the stairs, seeming deeply uninterested in the party conversation as far as Ivan can tell - it seems lively enough to him, if unfamiliar, but Miles's tastes are not his own. They do both try the "zlati ale", which has... a taste. Ivan meanders back over to his batch of girls, and sees that Miles is talking to another ghem of the female persuasion, too, good for him.
Said girl speaks to Miles before he can say anything to her:
"Lord Vorkosigan. Would you care to take a walk in the garden with me?"
The next day, with appropriate security arrangements in place, Miles and Ivan are both dropped off at Yenaro's house, which might appear next to a glossary entry for the term "genteel poverty". Background checks have indicated that Yenaro has never been a sculptor, which lends support to the "trap" over "accident" hypothesis, but into his den they walk regardless.
Ivan puts the various cautions out of his mind and flirts with the pretty ghem girls. There are several who don't seem to mind being flirted with in a batch, of which Ivan thoroughly approves. Miles wanders upstairs with Yenaro to investigate the incense lab, whether out of an appreciation for incense, a curiosity about Yenaro personally, or a despair of collecting a spare girl, Ivan does not know.
Miles eventually comes back down the stairs, seeming deeply uninterested in the party conversation as far as Ivan can tell - it seems lively enough to him, if unfamiliar, but Miles's tastes are not his own. They do both try the "zlati ale", which has... a taste. Ivan meanders back over to his batch of girls, and sees that Miles is talking to another ghem of the female persuasion, too, good for him.
Said girl speaks to Miles before he can say anything to her:
"Lord Vorkosigan. Would you care to take a walk in the garden with me?"
"I think it will interest you."
And of a sudden she's a woman on a mission, leading him out to meet - a ba. The same one who led him to the haut Linyabel.
"The ba will escort you the rest of the way."
And of a sudden she's a woman on a mission, leading him out to meet - a ba. The same one who led him to the haut Linyabel.
"The ba will escort you the rest of the way."
thisvorlunatic
"Very well." He holds up a hand and extracts his com link from his pocket. "Base. I'm leaving Yenaro's premises for a while. Track me, but don't interrupt me unless I call for you."
"Yes, my lord," the driver answers dubiously. "Where are you going?"
"I'm - taking a walk with a lady," he half-fibs. "Wish me luck."
"Oh," says the driver; Miles can almost see the smile, the nod of understanding. "Good luck, my lord."
"Thank you," he says, closes the channel, and tucks the link back into his pocket. "All right."
And he follows the ba wherever it may care to lead.
"Yes, my lord," the driver answers dubiously. "Where are you going?"
"I'm - taking a walk with a lady," he half-fibs. "Wish me luck."
"Oh," says the driver; Miles can almost see the smile, the nod of understanding. "Good luck, my lord."
"Thank you," he says, closes the channel, and tucks the link back into his pocket. "All right."
And he follows the ba wherever it may care to lead.
thisvorlunatic
Yes, and let's not forget the miscellaneous landscape through which they have to traipse in order to get to this dilapidated little wooden building in the middle of an overgrown garden. Miles's poor boots are going to hate him for this. The place looks like it hasn't been touched in fifty years, granted that it must have been very pretty fifty years ago.
But - here he is, with the Great Key in his pocket. Ready to return it... under some potential circumstances.
"Milady?" he says cautiously.
But - here he is, with the Great Key in his pocket. Ready to return it... under some potential circumstances.
"Milady?" he says cautiously.
"It's Linyabel again," the bubble clarifies, in, indeed, the same slightly bubble-distorted voice. "Did your research confirm the provenance of the object to your satisfaction?"
thisvorlunatic
"...Yes," he says. "And a little more besides. I am left with... some further questions."
thisvorlunatic
"Why would be a fine start. Why did the Empress's most senior servant steal a piece of her regalia right before her funeral? I suppose there's a chance you don't know - but someone must. These things don't just happen. Every instinct I own is crying out that I am being set up - I, or Barrayar through me. I want to know enough to dodge the trap, wherever it may be hiding."