Miles nods shortly to both of them and heads off to the appointed meeting place.

"Yes, in fact. Lord Yenaro, the architect of my embarrassing accident, was all set to dump a pitcher of catalyst on a lovely rug made of five kilos of military explosive, cleverly disguised. I took him aside and demonstrated why this would have been a bad idea, using a thread from the rug and a drop from the pitcher, and he was very forthcoming in the ensuing conversation." Miles takes a breath. "It's Kety."

"Okay," breathes the bubble. "Excellent -" She drops her shield, and proffers one of the two flimsies of ship-map in her hand. "There's his ship's model mapped out. I have the ba uniform for you too, and a device that will detect the old-style power supply for the Key, but perhaps that should be transferred when you have a clearer idea of your plan."

"Yes." He accepts the map and starts folding it carefully for concealment in his pocket. "Not until the very moment when I'm about to hare off and board a shuttle - and I can't, right now, I'd be missed too fast. We'll have to arrange something later that'll give me more lead time, if your Handmaiden can manage it. Old-style power supply, eh? Very unique, not likely to be casually duplicated in somebody's antique hair dryer? What kind of range does your detector have, do you know?"

"Short. Twenty feet, if that, less with something in the way. But it won't pick up any hairdryers."

"All right. Convey my thanks and my information to the Handmaiden - and I think I'd better go before someone decides I'm officially missing. My security happens to be particularly on edge today." He hesitates a bare instant, then blurts, "It was nice seeing you again, milady."

"Likewise. - By the way, Lisbet knows about our idea. She guessed, though I'd have had to tell her anyway. She says when she can she'll put in a word with the Emperor."

"Bye," she calls, the bubble-distortion affecting the word halfway through.

He continues to grin foolishly all the way back to the exhibition.

Where Ivan catches him almost immediately. "There you are, where the hell did you go?"

"To report our new information to my haut-contact," he says in an undertone, trying for 'serious' and not really making it more than a third of the way there.

"And get drunk with your the-haut-whoever, what's gotten into y- oh my god, tell me I'm wrong."

"I was not getting drunk, shut up."

"No, that is no longer my guess, tell me you don't fancy yourself in love with a haut-lady, the haut-ladies are off-limits, Miles."

"Haut-ladies as a category, yes. This particular one as much as said outright that if I bring this operation off, she's going to petition to be awarded to me. Which isn't quite how they usually do it, but obviously she has connections, that's how we met in the first place."

"Tell me you don't fancy a haut-lady in love with you."

"Thank you, Ivan," he grits, "I'm perfectly aware of how unlovable I am. She at least definitely seems to like my style better than what she gets at home."

"Oh, God, Miles, I didn't mean about - I'm talking about haut-ladies, not about you, how do you know you're not being - conned, suborned, set up?"

"Because everything I'm doing is exactly the same thing I'd be doing anyway. Except I'd be grinning less."

"You're impossible," says Ivan. "Anyway - Vorreedi got back barely a minute after you scarpered - he talked to Yenaro. The pro who the perimeter fellow saw coming - they caught him and fast-penta'd him but didn't keep him in custody - was there to make sure Yenaro didn't leave alive. Yenaro had a ten-minute head start till the fast-penta wore off and got out. Vorreedi's certainly going to want to talk to you - I told him you had enough sense of proportion not to have tried to put a hit on Yenaro about your legs, anyway."

"Well, thanks."

"You're welcome. I hope you know what you're doing - rather, I wish you knew what you were doing."

"Don't we all," he mutters, in a rare moment of honesty on that subject.