“So you weren’t an eyewitness to the Cordonah Station’s, er, forcible change of management?”
“I think Star got out just as the station was being boarded, but the rest of us were hours gone by then. The evacuation drill was never something my parents took chances with.” She swallowed, her throat obviously tight with some upsetting memory. “Everything we learned, we learned later through the news feeds, though of course you can’t trust them.”
“Twice,” said Rish, unexpectedly. “Surely you weren’t too young to remember?”
“Was that the trip we took when I was six? Oh! No one ever told me what that was all about. Just that we were going on a ride, and a visit.”
“We wanted to keep you calm.”
“What, you couldn’t have been older than fifteen.” Tej turned to Ivan, though not to Byerly, and said, “Rish used to baby-sit me a lot when I was younger, in between dance practice and other chores the Baronne assigned.”
You call your mother the Baronne? Well, the tall woman in Morozov’s scan had looked formidable, more beautiful than warm. The man . . . had been harder to gauge.
“Is Rish your assigned handler?” asked By.
Tej shook her head. “We had a real bodyguard, a courier. I’m afraid he may be dead, now. That happened on Fell Station. We almost didn’t get away.”
Had the man bought their escape with his life? Seemed like it, from the quiver in her voice, and the chilled look in Rish’s eyes. But if Rish wasn’t the official bodyguard, what was she? Ivan looked at her and asked, “So are you really a jeeves?”
Those spun-gold eyebrows rose. “What would you trade for that information?”
“I . . .” Ivan glanced aside. “I think it’s Byerly’s turn, now.”
By shot him a look of annoyance, which left Ivan unmoved.
“Actually,” Ivan went on to him, “I think you owe me a bucket of information, By. Before I put my foot in it by accident, again, and I’m not taking any more Ivan, you idiots off of you when you can’t be troubled to give me a decent briefing!” This ringing declaration left him a little winded, and By edging slightly away, good. If Ivan had to shout to be heard, maybe it was time to bellow a bit. “Name names, Byerly!”
Byerly looked as if he’d rather knock out several teeth and hand them across. Nevertheless, after a narrow frown at the two women, he rubbed his forehead and began, “All right, then. Ivan, d’you know Theo Vormercier?”
“Barely. Not my crowd.”
“Quite. Lately, he was cut out of a long-expected inheritance when his aging uncle, Count Vormercier, remarried and began springing offspring.”
“Really? I mean, I’d heard about the marriage, from m’mother y’know, but I didn’t think the new wife was that much younger than him.”
“Technology, of course. They used genetic assembly and a uterine replicator. I understand they now have a brand-new gene-cleaned bouncing baby boy and another on the way.” Byerly smirked. “Say, any chance that your mother and old Illyan would—”
“No,” said Ivan firmly. Not that a certain formidable auntly person hadn’t actually suggested it, Betan that she was. He glanced at Tej, listening intently if with a somewhat baffled expression. “You were saying about Vormercier.”
By’s eyes glinted with fleeting amusement; he nodded and went on, “Theo had been living on his expectations for quite a long time, and not frugally. To say that this development took him aback would be understating the case. In the meanwhile, he had a younger brother in the Service—a quartermaster officer in the Sergyar Fleet’s orbital depot. Brother Roger’s expectations, while considerably more modest, were equally thwarted. About a year ago, Theo went out to visit him. And, evidently, they talked.”
“Sergyar Fleet is Commodore Jole’s patch,” said Ivan. “Not to mention . . . huh. Not a good place to play games.”
“Doubtless that had something to do with the extreme caution and cleverness with which they went about it. Roger’s embezzlements began small, with theft of a load of outdated military equipment and supplies that had been slated to be destroyed. Perfectly understandable temptation, almost an admirable frugality when you think about it. The receiver contacts they’d made with that scam led to bigger and better contacts, and the next effort was much more ambitious.”
“How’d you get all this from Vormercier? You fast-penta him when he wasn’t looking?”
“Alcohol and braggadocio, Ivan. And stretched patience and a strong stomach on my part, if I do say so.” By sighed. “The conspirators divided the task. Roger takes care of the heavy lifting. Theo launders the money. There is no money trail back to the actual military thieves. The loads go as opportunity permits from Sergyar orbit to Pol Station, where they are slipped to their non-Barrayaran receivers and into a void. Money comes out of a void into the hands of a contact on Komarr, who finds various apparently legal ways to hand it on to Theo, who takes it back to Barrayar and invests it. At a much later date, the military minions stop by and collect, under an inventive variety of pretexts. But like many another gambler before them, the brothers Vormercier appear never to have heard of the dictum Quit while you’re ahead.”
“My Dada used to say that,” said Tej. Rish nodded.
Byerly, after a bemused pause, cast them a small salute and continued. “The old phrase No honor among thieves also seems apropos. I have reason to think Theo has been embezzling from the funds entrusted to him. In any case, he was quite on-edge when it became time to take his yacht, his entourage, and his trusted hanger-on—that would be me—to Komarr for a soletta-viewing party. And gather in his next payout for goods delivered from his Komarran contact. Unfortunately for Theo, the goods have not been delivered. The ship was unexpectedly delayed in Komarr orbit, and has missed its Pol Station rendezvous. I believe your people had something to do with that, Ivan?”
Ivan pursed his lips and whistled. “So it’s gotta be the Kanzian. Only Sergyar Fleet vessel in-system right now. The Vor Horsemen snagged it for the fleet inspection. Desplains likes springing little surprises like that, though I bet it wasn’t a surprise to Jole. He’ll likely reciprocate, next chance.”
Byerly nodded, as if satisfied to have another stray piece of his puzzle slot into place. “While Theo’s contacts appear to be relatively unruffled by the development, Theo is in a lather. The contacts have declined to advance him moneys on a cargo as yet in limbo, but offered as a sop a surprisingly substantial bounty on your two guests.” Byerly nodded across at the women. “Beggars not being choosy, Theo promptly seized the sop and set me on the task, and here we are.”
By paused as if for a round of applause, and appeared disappointed to only receive three long stares. “Collecting the identity of Theo’s Komarr contact was a bit of a coup for me, but hardly enough to justify my expense reports. But, as Ivan could no doubt explain in his exemplary military manner, the best way to capture a wormhole is from both ends at once.” He spread his arms wide, then brought his hands slowly together, caging air, or something only he could see. “If one could get a handle on those people in the void beyond Pol Station, one might well work backward to trap everything that lies between them and Komarr.” He looked up with undisguised interest at Tej and Rish. “Do you figure the people who bid for you are from the syndicate that seized your House?”
Tej’s fists clenched, opened. “Prestene? I . . . don’t know. Maybe. Or they might be anybody, looking to collect the arrest order fee.”
“Said fee posted ultimately by the syndicate? Why do they want you? The size of the prize suggests quite a special interest.”
Tej’s lips tightened; then she shrugged. “Rish, as one of the Jewels, would be an outward sign of Prestene’s triumph over House Cordonah, if they could capture and display her. Even more brag if they can collect the set. I suppose they think I’m a loose end, wild to come back and destroy them if I could, and take back my parents’ House. Maybe they watch too many holovids, I don’t know.”
“And are you? Wild
for revenge?”
“I never wanted to be a baronne. The only thing I want is my parents back, and my brother.” She bit her lip. “Won’t happen in this life.”
Byerly turned to Rish. “So—are you a jeeves?”
She eyed him, then gave a short nod as if to say, fair trade. “I was one of the Baronne’s created children, and will always remain so. All further loyalty treatments were discontinued after that scare years back. The Baronne said she didn’t want her Jewels to be damaged or suffer if she died unexpectedly.”
“I didn’t know that,” said Tej, sounding surprised.
Rish made a graceful turn of one blue hand, though what she meant by it, Ivan could not guess. “You were six.”
“So what kept you from running off?” asked By.
She raised her chin and looked down her nose at him, a neat trick given that she was shorter. “Didn’t you claim you were disinherited? What keeps you from betraying your Imperium?”
By opened his hands as if to surrender the point. “So what other tasks did you perform for Baronne Cordonah? Besides baby-sitting.”
Rish touched her lips and gave him a peculiar smile. “Living sculptures.”
“Ah?”
“At receptions, the Baronne would position us Jewels around the chamber, and we would maintain various poses, as still as marble for minutes at a time, then shift to new poses. After a while, the guests invariably began to behave as if we were real statues. None of them seemed to realize how very keen our hearing was. Or how good our memories. We would compete with each other, to see who could get the best tidbits to report to her at the end of an evening.” Her gaze at By grew speculative. “But I think you know exactly how that works. How freely people will talk, when they take you for a block. Not so?”
He returned her a reluctantly appreciative nod.
“So what does it all mean?” asked Ivan plaintively.
By cocked an eyebrow at him. “That seems a rather philosophical question, to be coming from you.”
“No, the name thing.” Ivan gestured somewhat inarticulately at Tej. “Aj-Tejas-whatever. From your da’s book.” He added conscientiously, “Ivan in old Russian means John in English. Dunno what John means, come to think.”
Tej got a strange look on her face, but answered—was the deal still on?—“Akuti, princess, Tejaswini, radiant—or maybe intelligent, I’m not sure which—Jyoti, flame. Or light.”
“Princess Radiant Flame,” Ivan tested this on his tongue. He’d attempt the other pronunciation later. Or Princess Bright Light, whichever. Princess, in either case. “Sounds like your da thought the world of you, huh?”
Tej swallowed and looked away, as if the far end of the room had suddenly grown riveting. She answered in a would-be-pedantic quaver, “The geographical origin was supposed to be South Asian. Star’s was South European, or South American, or south something, anyway. Or maybe it was the other way around. We never spent much time on Old Earth history.”
“So what kind of a name is Vorrutyer?” Rish asked Byerly, possibly to give Tej a moment to regain her composure.
He sat back looking surprised at the question, or maybe just at its coming from her, but answered readily: “The origin of the prefix Vor is much debated, except that it arose during the Time of Isolation and came to refer exclusively to members of the then-warrior caste. We are fairly certain that the Rutyer was a mishearing or misspelling of the Old Earth German Rutger.”
Tej, back in control of her voice, asked, “So what about Vorpatril?”
Ivan cleared his throat. “Not sure. Some say it’s British, some claim it came from the Greek or French, maybe as a corruption of patros or some word like it. A lot of Barrayaran names got twisted around during the centuries after the Firsters were cut off. Or shortened—Serg from Sergei, Padma from Padmakar, and Xav’s a contraction of Xavier.”
“Mutated over time, makes sense,” said Tej, then paused to take in matching glares from both By and Ivan. “Why do you look like you just swallowed a bug? The usage is precise. A mutation is a copying error. Everyone knows that.”
“Do not,” said Ivan firmly, “use that term to a Barrayaran. It’s a pretty deadly insult to imply that someone’s a mutant. Even if you’re just spelling their names.”
“Oh.” Tej looked baffled, but said amiably, “All right. If you say so.”
By glanced at the time on his wristcom and muttered a curse. “I have to be somewhere else. Several minutes ago.” He dragged his hands through his hair and stood up. His gaze swept Ivan, Tej, and Rish, all three. “I guess this is as good a bolt-hole for you as any other, for now.”
“For how much longer?” asked Ivan.
“I don’t know. A day, two days, three? I meant to play this out as long as I could, in hopes of getting in beyond Theo’s contact. I’m making progress, but we’re close to pulling the plug. At which point I’ll need to vanish, if I want to maintain my cover and my livelihood. And my skin. So until we meet again, dear friends, adieu.”
With a wave that did not quite mimic an ImpSec salute, By made for the door; Ivan accompanied him out.
In the corridor, By lowered his voice. “If things go sideways, Ivan, you should probably take those women to Morozov.”
“They won’t want to go. They don’t trust ImpSec.”
By shrugged. “Morozov could cut them a deal, I’ll bet. ImpSec Galactic Affairs would be happy to lap up whatever they wanted to spill about this syndicate of theirs.”
“Or maybe more than they wanted.”
“We can discuss that. Later.” By strode off, a tired man hurrying.
Ivan sealed the door, made sure it was locked, and returned to his living room to find Tej and Rish deciding who was to have the first turn in the bathroom before bed. Ivan glanced at his wristcom and cringed to count the scant hours till Komarran dawn. I hate this strangled day length.
“That is a strange man,” commented Rish, looking toward the door after Byerly.
“You’re not the first to note that,” said Ivan ruefully.
“How did he get into his line of work?”
Ivan squinted, wondering why that question had never before occurred to him. “I have no idea. It’s not the sort of thing you ask these ImpSec fellows. I think he was around twenty-standard when he moved to Vorbarr Sultana—his parents lived out on the west coast, t’other side of the continent, see. He hung around on the edges of things for years before I ever found out about his ImpSec moonlighting. The fact that he was estranged from his family never seemed to need an explanation—that is, if you knew many Vorrutyers. The whole clan is, um . . . either on the vivid side, or downright antisocial.”
“Ah,” said Rish elliptically, and went off to claim the bath.
Ivan sat back down, watching Tej watch her friend pad silently away. This couch would do for his bed, if only people would let him lie here in peace for enough hours . . . “Baby-sitter?”
Tej’s laugh was no more than a puff of air through her nose. “I don’t know that she exactly volunteered for the job. I used to follow her around like a kitten chasing a string. I was just fascinated by all the Jewels, when I was younger. I would watch them at their dance practice, and make them try to teach me, too.”
“What kind of dance?”
“Oh, every kind. They collected skills and styles from all over, and were always trying to put them together in new combinations. I wanted to be one of them, to be allowed to really dance—you know, in their performances. But puberty was cruel to me.”
On the contrary, Ivan thought puberty had been very generous to her. He just managed to stop himself from saying so out loud, converting it to, “How so?”
“The best dancers are all thin and small and strong, very whippy. Like Rish. By age fourteen, it was plain I was going to be built more like my Dada—my other sisters all took after my mother, willowy. I just grew too tall, too big, too heavy. Too top-heavy.” She sniffed as if in some weird—in Ivan’s view, anyway—female self-disapprova
l. “By age fifteen it was obvious that no matter how hard I worked, I could never be as good as the Jewels. So I stopped.”
“Gave it up?” said Ivan. “That’s no good. Just because someone else is some sort of natural flaming genius, doesn’t mean that you’re an idi . . . um.” Um. “Doesn’t mean that you should . . .” He tried rushing the notion. “Should hide your light under the covers.”
Her smile grew wan. “My sister Star said the only reason I wanted to perform with the Jewels was to make myself the center of attention. I expect she was right.” She hoisted herself wearily to her feet and went off to change places with Rish.
She’d forgotten to demand a trade. Watching her vanish into the shadows of the next room, all Ivan could think was: Actually, y’know . . . I expect you wanted to dance because you wanted to dance.
* * *
Tej dreamed.
She was running through writhing space station corridors, pursued by a nameless menace. Ahead of her, the Jewels scattered right and left, leaping in grands jetés down cross-corridors, flashes of red and green, blue and obsidian, gold and pearl-white somersaulting in fantastical triple turns in the air, but by the time she caught up, the corridors were silent and echoing, empty. She ran on.
A side door slid open; a voice hissed, “Quick! Hide in here!”
It was Captain Vorpatril. He was wearing his green military officer’s uniform over a bear suit. His chest was crisscrossed with bandoliers of power charge packs, and he held a very large weapon, perhaps a plasma rifle. Or was that a water gun? He grinned at her from the round, furry frame of the bear hood. The gun went away, and then they were kissing, and for a moment or two, the dream went good. His kisses were expert: neither too shy, tickling annoyingly, nor too invasive, like someone trying to shove a slug down her throat, but just right, firm and exploratory. Tej noted this, thinking, I’ll have to try very hard to remember this part when I wake up . . .