Cordelia asks whether Callida prefers to meet Gregor at a formal audience or a private dinner. She recommends the private dinner for a more relaxed atmosphere, but leaves the final decision in Callida's hands.

She'd prefer the private dinner.

It's not going to be 'immediately,' is it?

No, it's not going to be immediately. Gregor has a busy schedule. How does a private dinner at Vorkosigan House in eight days sound to Callida?

That sounds fine to her.

Callida sort of wishes it were further away, but she suspects she'll always sort of wish it were further away. Even if he isn't a sorcerer emperor and the most powerful Force-user in his empire, if he turned out to be bad at being an emperor... She might have to figure out how to solve that problem. And she really, really, really doesn't want to. At all. It sounds like it'd be a mess, and frankly, she's got enough to deal with right now. Please be sane and not terrible at your job, Barrayar's emperor, she doesn't want to have to make fixing your empire for you her problem.

In eight days: here is a Sith Lord, in extremely foreign (but very nice) robes fit for a dinner party. She decides against bringing the largely-for-show guards, on the basis that she is quite dangerous enough for the emperor's security detail to worry about, and she's going to have pity on them.

It'll be just the three of them, Callida and Gregor and Cordelia. Apparently Aral has a scheduling conflict and Miles is buried in paperwork.

Cordelia meets her at the door and shows her inside. The guard outside the door is a Vorkosigan armsman in brown and silver; the guards inside are ImpSec men in unceremonious black. One of them steps forward to scan her with a handheld device as Cordelia says warmly, "It's good to see you again, Lord Callida."

"And you, Cordelia," says Callida, smiling slightly.

She does not have her lightsaber, and this makes her slightly more uneasy than her already high baseline for meeting an emperor. There's no familiar bump of metal at her hip, no comforting attuned crystals to focus on with the Force. She doesn't feel naked, precisely, but she does feel - slightly more vulnerable than she would be under normal circumstances. But these are not normal circumstances, and she's meeting an emperor. It's hard to pick up its energy signature by conventional scan, but the scanning equipment is foreign, here. And if they picked it up, they might be offended, and at best they'd probably ask for her to hand it over for the dinner. Callida thinks she'd rather start figuring out how to chemically flay herself alive over having her lightsaber potentially get misplaced. It probably wouldn't. She's probably being paranoid. Even so, the mere chance of her lightsaber falling into the wrong hands for whatever dangerous adventures is - too large of a chance. So she left it at the manor with Envee, who knows its significance and will keep it safe.

It's the smart, diplomatic move. That doesn't do anything to ease her nerves, but it's something.

The security man nods. Cordelia leads Callida to the dining room.

The Emperor of Barrayar is not much to write home about at first glance. He's dressed in a local formal style, but even an untrained eye can detect that he went for 'sober and unassuming' over any other stylistic consideration. He wears no crown, no jewels, no symbols of power. And yet the power is there. Like grooves worn in a road by the ceaseless tread of heavy wheels, the fact that this man's breath is law shows in his eyes.

He looks up and nods to both of them as they enter the room. "Cordelia," he says, and, "Lord Callida. A pleasure to meet you. I've heard good things."

A hint of her earlier smile tugs at her lips, and she bows politely.

"Emperor. A pleasure to meet you, too. And - likewise."

"I spoke with Miles briefly and he says he's very sorry he couldn't make it," says Gregor. "He's delighted with you for saving him months of recovery time, although I gather he wishes he could have spent another week convalescing and thereby escaped writing all these reports."

"I'll be sure to apologize to him for the alacrity," says Callida, deadpan.

At that, he actually smiles.

Cordelia looks pleased.

"He still maintains that you're his favourite Sith Lord," she contributes. "When Aral heard that one, he laughed and said 'Mine too, for that matter'."

Callida snorts a little.

"If I weren't, I'd wonder where he found another."

"He did not seem very impressed with your predecessor."

"He wasn't particularly impressive," says Callida, disdainfully. "Impressed with himself, perhaps."

"It's an immense relief to me that I don't have to deal with him," says Gregor.

"Yes. Though, to be fair, I doubt you would have had to deal with him for particularly long. But I'm more than happy to spare you the trouble of the cleanup."

"Yes, I much prefer things your way."

"I despise mayhem. Comes with being the apprentice to the Head of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge. The archives are a pain to navigate if they're not orderly."

"The Sphere of Ancient Knowledge?"

"Under the Sith Emperor, there are twelve Dark Councilors," she silently apologizes for the stupid name, "each in charge of a specific Sphere of Influence. Darth Occlus is in charge of the Sphere of Ancient Knowledge - history, recordkeeping, ancient artifacts, the like. Typically my duties are more in line with archaeology than fleet administration and diplomacy."

"You seem to be adapting to the change with admirable grace. It's clear that your people respect you and value your leadership."

"Thank you," she says, smiling a little. "It's not entirely new - I do have some administrative experience, merely of a kind typically suited for excavation. But I do apologize for any diplomatic blunders, I have no such background with being an emissary of the Sith Empire."

That last part was said incredibly dryly.

"No complaints so far."