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ah... Vorkosigan, is it?"
"Or my Lord Auditor would be correct, this week."
"Rarefied."
"I could scarcely go higher here without risking a nosebleed."
"Is that a warning to me?"
"Orientation only. A courtesy."
"Ah. Thank you." Weddell nodded, and drifted back to watch the proceedings
over Avakli s shoulder.
Weddell/Canaba was still an ass at heart, Miles reflected. But he did know his
molecular biology.
After a conversation with Admiral Avakli, Miles called Gregor to report the
success of the surgery. He then turned to see
Illyan one more time. He found the ImpSec chief sitting up in bed, dressed
again, with Lady Alys seated nearby. Illyan actually smiled slightly as he
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entered, the first un-harrowed expression Miles had seen on his features for
days.
"Hello, sir. It s good to have you back."
"Miles." Illyan nodded, carefully, then touched his hand to his head as if to
make sure it was going to stay on. "How long have you been here? Come over
here."
"Only about four days, I guess. Or five." Miles went to his other side.
Illyan too studied his House uniform and its assorted ornaments. He reached
out to lightly tick the gold Auditor s chain across
Miles s shoulders. It rang with a faint, pure note. "Now that s... rather
unexpected."
"General Haroche didn t want to let me in. Gregor decided this would save
argument."
"How creative of Gregor." Illyan vented a brief surprised laugh, which Miles
was not quite sure how to interpret. "I would never have thought of it. But
waste not, want not."
"If you seem to be able to watch out for yourself now, sir, I thought I d take
a break, and go home for a bit."
"I ll stay for a while," Alys volunteered, then added, "You did a good job,
Miles."
Miles shrugged. "Hell, I didn t do that much. Just got the tech boys into
motion, I suppose." With an effort, he converted a parting salute into a more
civilian polite nod, and half-bowed himself out.
Back in his bedroom at Vorkosigan House, Miles hung up his House uniform to
await attention from a laundry, and divested it of its decorations, which he
put away carefully. It would likely be a long time before he wore them again,
if ever. Still, they d finally served a useful purpose. Lastly, he held up the
gold chain of his ersatz Auditor s office, and let it turn in the light,
studying its exquisite detail.
Well. That was amusing, while it lasted
.
He supposed he ought to take the chain back promptly to the Residence, to be
returned to the vault from which it had come. It seemed a little careless to
leave an object of that much historical and artistic value lying around in
one s bureau drawer. Still... a job was never over till the reports were
written; a decade in Imp Sec had taught him that
, if nothing else. And until Avakli and his merry men turned in their report,
Miles could not very well offer his final one to Gregor.
He tucked the chain away atop a stack of shirts.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Reluctantly but firmly, Miles seated himself at his comconsole the next day
and rang up the Imperial Military Hospital s veterans treatment division, and
scheduled a preliminary examination for the diagnosis of his seizures. ImpMil
was the most logical place to go; they had as much experience with
cryo-revival cases as anybody else on Barrayar, and they had immediate and
privileged access to all his medical records, classified or not. His Dendarii
Fleet surgeon s notes alone should save weeks of repetitive horsing around.
Sooner or later, Ivan would remember his threats to drag Miles bodily to the
clinic of his choice, or worse, rat about Miles s foot-dragging to Gregor.
This spiked Ivan s guns.
Mission accomplished, Miles sighed, pushed back from his comconsole, and rose
for an aimless ramble around the echoing corridors and chambers of Vorkosigan
House. It wasn t that he missed Ivan s company, exactly, it was just that...
he missed company, even Ivan s. Vorkosigan House wasn t meant to be this
quiet. It had been designed to host a full-time roaring circus, with its
complement of guardsmen and staff, maids and grooms and gardeners, hurrying
couriers and languid courtiers, Vor visitors trailing their retinues,
children... with the successive Counts Vorkosigan as ringmasters, the hubs
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around which the whole great gaudy wheel turned. Counts and Countesses
Vorkosigan. The party had been at its height in his great-grandparents day,
Miles supposed, just before the end of the Time of Isolation. He paused before
a window overlooking the curving drive, and pictured horses and carriages
pulling up below, officers and ladies disembarking with a glitter of swords
and a swirl of fabrics.
Running the Dendarii Mercenaries had been something like that, at least the
roaring-circus aspect. Miles wondered if the
Dendarii Fleet would outlast its founder by as long as Vorkosigan House had
outlasted the first Count, eleven generations ago.
And if it would be knocked down and completely rebuilt as often. Strange to
think he might have created something so organic and live that it would
continue in his absence, without him to prop and push.... the way children
went on living, without any further act of will on the parents part.
Quinn was surely his worthy successor. He ought to give up any pretense of his
return to the Dendarii and just promote her to
Admiral, period. Or would personnel assignments now be Haroche s job? Miles
would have trusted Illyan to handle Quinn. But did Haroche have the insight,
the imagination required? He sighed unease.
His peregrinations brought him to the second-floor succession of rooms with
the best view of the back garden, that had been his formidable grandfather s
lair for the last years of the old man s life. Miles s father and mother had
not chosen to move into them after the old Count s death, instead retaining
their own extensive chambers on the floor above. But they d had the old
Count s rooms refurbished as a sort of Imperial-grade guest suite: bedroom,
private bath, sitting room, and study. Even Ivan, a connoisseur of comfort,
had not had the nerve to claim the elegantly appointed space on his recent
sojourn. He d taken instead a small bedroom down the hall from Miles, though
that might have been for convenience in keeping an eye on his erratic cousin.
Staring around the silent chambers, Miles was seized an inspiration.
"Kidnapping?" murmured General Haroche, eyeing Miles over Illyan s comconsole
desk the following morning.
Miles smiled blandly. "Hardly that, sir. An invitation to Illyan to enjoy the
hospitality of Vorkosigan House during his convalescence, offered by me in my
father s name and place. I ve no doubt he would approve."
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