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"Not exactly, my fraternal ignoramus. Have any of you town clowns met his
Betan frill yet?"
"Men of fashion, sirrah," corrected his brother. "Not to be confused with
you Service grubs."
"No danger of that. No, really. There are the damnedest rumors circulating
about her, Vorkosigan, and Vorrutyer at Escobar, most of which contradict each
other. I thought Mother might have a line on it."
"She keeps a low profile, for somebody who's supposed to be three meters
tall and eat battle cruisers for breakfast. Scarcely anybody's seen her. Maybe
she's ugly."
"They'll make a pair, then. Vorkosigan's no beauty either."
Cordelia, vastly amused, hid a grin behind her hand, until the commander
said, "I don't know who that three-legged spastic is he has trailing him,
though. Staff, do you suppose?"
"You'd think he could do better than that. What a mutant. Surely
Vorkosigan has the pick of the Service, as Regent."
She felt she'd received a body blow, so great was the unexpected pain of
the careless remark. Captain Lord Vorpatril scarcely seemed to notice it. He
had heard it, but his attention was on the floor below, where oaths were being
made. Droushnakovi, surprisingly, blushed, and turned her head away.
Cordelia leaned forward. Words boiled up within her, but she chose only a
few, and fired them off in her coldest Captain's voice.
"Commander. And you, whoever you are." They looked back at her, surprised
at the interruption. "For your information, the gentleman in question is
Lieutenant Koudelka. And there are no better officers. Not in anybody's
service."
They stared at her, irritated and baffled, unable to place her in their
scheme of things. "I believe this was a private conversation, madam," said the
commander stiffly.
"Quite so," she returned, equally stiffly, still boiling. "For
eavesdropping, unavoidable as it was, I beg your pardon. But for that shameful
remark upon Admiral Vorkosigan's secretary, you must apologize. It was a
disgrace to the uniform you both wear and the service to your Emperor you both
share." She kept her voice very low, almost hissing. She was trembling. An
overdose of Barrayar. Get hold of yourself.
Vorpatril's wandering attention was drawn, startled, back to her by this
speech. "Here, here," he remonstrated. "What is this-"
The commander turned around further. "Oh, Captain Vorpatril, sir. I didn't
recognize you at first. Um . . ." He gestured helplessly at his red-haired
attacker, as if to say, Is this lady with you? And if so, can't you keep her
under control? He added coldly, "We have not met, madam."
"No, but I don't go 'round flipping over rocks to see what's living
underneath." She was instantly conscious of having been lured into going too
far. With difficulty, she put a lid on her temper. It wouldn't do to be making
new enemies for Vorkosigan at the very moment he was taking up his duties.
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Vorpatril, waking up to his responsibilities as escort, began, "Commander,
you don't know who-"
"Don't . . . introduce us, Lord Vorpatril," Cordelia interrupted him. "We
should only embarrass each other further." She pressed thumb and forefinger to
the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes and gathering more conciliating
words. And I used to pride myself on keeping my temper. She looked up at their
furious faces.
"Commander. My lord." She correctly deduced the young man's title from his
reference to his father, sitting among the counts. "My words were hasty and
rude, and I take them back. I had no right to comment on a private
conversation. I apologize. Most humbly."
"As well you should," snapped the young lord.
His brother had more self-control, and replied reluctantly, "I accept your
apology, madam. I presume the lieutenant is some relative of yours. I
apologize for whatever insult you felt was implied."
"And I accept your apology, Commander. Although Lieutenant Koudelka is not
a relation, but only my second-dearest . . . enemy." She paused, and they
exchanged frowns, hers of irony, his of puzzlement. "I would ask a favor of
you, however, sir. Don't let a comment like that fall in Admiral Vorkosigan's
hearing. Koudelka was one of his officers aboard the General Vorkraft, and was
wounded in his defense during that political mutiny last year. He loves him as
a son."
The commander was calming down, although Droushnakovi still looked as if
she had a bad taste in her mouth. He smiled a little. "Are you implying I'd
find myself doing guard duty on Kyril Island?"
What was Kyril Island? Some distant and unpleasant outpost, apparently. "I
... doubt it. He wouldn't use his office to carry out a personal grudge. But
it would cause him unnecessary pain."
"Madam." She had puzzled him thoroughly now, this plain-looking woman, so
out-of-place in the glittering gallery. He turned back with his brother to
watch the show below, and all maintained a sticky silence for another twenty
minutes, until the ceremonies stopped for lunch. The crowds in both gallery
and floor broke away to meet in the corridors of power.
She found Vorkosigan, Koudelka at his side, speaking with his father Count
Piotr and another older man in count's robes. Vorpatril delivered her and
vanished, and Aral greeted her with a tired smile.
"Dear Captain, are you holding up all right? I want you to meet Count
Vorhalas. Admiral Rulf Vorhalas was his younger brother. We must go shortly,
we're scheduled for a private lunch with the Princess and Prince Gregor."
Count Vorhalas bowed profoundly over her hand. "Milady. I'm honored."
"Count. I ... only saw your brother briefly. But Admiral Vorhalas struck
me as a man of outstanding worth." And my side blew him away. She felt queasy,
with her hand in his, but he seemed to hold no personal animosity.
"Thank you, Milady. We all thought so. Ah, there are the boys. I promised
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