Lois Bujold - Captain Vorpatril's alliance

Tej grinned across at Simon and at Ivan, almost the first his wife had acknowledged his existence since he’d sat down, and went into a brief huddle with the Jewels. Star opted out, looking mildly bored; she had collected all the stage markers back into a bundle, and seemed to be loading things up.

The group of Jewels split up again and took positions in a circle, or square, or imaginary four-pointed star. Tej bent and started the music once more, louder than heretofore; a very traditional Barrayaran mazurka, if with a livelier, updated beat and flourishes. The Jewels began to move, grandly leaping and kicking, in a version that recalled traditional Barrayaran men’s dances without in any way being one. It was by far the most athletic performance yet. Even Jet, usually the thrower, took his turn being thrown into the air—if by two of his sister-Jewels in cooperation—and somersaulting to daring landings. All the men around the perimeter of the park stopped eating to goggle. Tej watched as if hypnotized with pleasure.

When the dance finished in a whirl and a shout, all the Jewels were breathing heavily, sweating despite the chill. Quite spontaneously, the ImpSec men scattered around their impromptu stage broke into applause; the Jewels grinned and bowed back, in one cardinal direction after another, concluding with an especially low sweep toward Simon and Ivan.

Simon rose, with one of those my-back-hurts sounds made by the aging, whether sincerely or for audience effect. There had been a deal of audience effect running in several directions here this morning, Ivan was pretty sure. The Jewels and Tej finished packing up their scant props, or gear, hauling it to the ground-van parked on the far side of the grassy space.

“You talk to Guy Allegre about all this yet?” Ivan nodded toward the late outdoor stage. “Or was he one of your six men?”

“Not yet.”

“Or him to you?”

“I set it as a high probability that we’ll be talking to each other sometime.”

“Ah…Gregor?”

Simon’s eyebrows mocked him. “And what is Gregor’s favorite motto?”

“ Let’s see what happens ,” Ivan recited glumly. “I always thought that was an appallingly irresponsible thing for an emperor to say.”

“There you go.”

Tej came over, to inquire rather breathlessly of Simon, but not Ivan, “Did you like the show, sir?”

“Yes. I did. Street theater of the highest order.”

“Complete with audience participation?” Ivan muttered. Wait, right—Simon hadn’t answered his last question. Or his first, for that matter.

“You should take your wife to lunch, Ivan,” Simon suggested genially. He asked Tej to convey his thanks to the Jewels for the show, excused himself, and walked off down the boulevard, just as though he had been some ordinary passer-by who’d stopped to watch the rehearsing dancers.

But Tej, still elusive, claimed chauffeuring duties, and fled in the opposite direction.

Ivan, feeling at default if not fault, sat back on the bench and stared at the blank landscape, trying to imagine how far was down .

Ivan woke the next morning to an empty bed, again, a depopulated flat, and a note on the coffeemaker: Gone driving. T. Which was better than no reassurance at all, but wouldn’t, Love, T. have been a better closing salutation? Not that he had ever ended any note to Tej with Love, I. , so far, but then, he hadn’t ever gone out and left her with just some laconic, uninformative scrawl. She’d come in very late last night, too, after some family thing, and gone straight to sleep, with no talk and scarcely a cuddle.

He buttered his instant breakfast groats, which made him think back to the emergency impromptu wedding on Komarr, and wondered if the gelid grains would taste better with a shot of brandy poured over them instead. No. No drinking at dawn, that was a bad sign, not that this was dawn—merely midmorning. He tried Tej’s wristcom, without reply, and was dumped to her message bin. Dumped , that wasn’t a good word, either. Nor—memory intruded again, albeit not one of Tej—a good sign. When his would-be-breezy Hey, Tej, call me. Ivan, your husband, remember? , produced no response by the time he had shaved and dressed, he steeled himself and walked down the street to the Arqua-occupied hotel.

Shiv himself admitted him when he buzzed the door of their suite. “Ah. Ivan.” He called over his shoulder, “Udine, Tej’s Barrayaran is here.” He gestured Ivan in and to one of the sitting room’s upholstered chairs, and fetched coffee from a credenza; Ivan accepted it gratefully.

The Baronne shut down her comconsole, joined her husband on the small sofa facing Ivan, and cast her provisional son-in-law a cool smile of welcome.

“I just popped in to ask where Tej had gone,” Ivan explained. “She left me a note, but it didn’t say much.”

Udine answered, “She has kindly taken my mother and Amiri out for some touring. I don’t believe they had a set destination.”

Well, all right, that sounded pretty safe and benign, compared to yesterday’s…odd performance. Lady ghem Estif was not wholly alarming, for a haut woman, or ex-haut woman, and Amiri was surely the least Jacksonian of this crew. A doctor, after all, aspiring unworldly researcher to boot. But Ivan was beginning to regret getting Tej all those driving lessons. “Couldn’t you hire a driver?” Wondering if that sounded rude, he added, “I could help you find one.” Or Captain Raudsepp could, no doubt.

“Perhaps later on,” said Shiv. “But this gave Tej a chance to catch up with her favorite brother.”

“Ah,” said Ivan, unable to argue with that. Dead end. He cast around for another topic. One came up readily. “So, ah…how long are you folks planning to stay on Barrayar, anyway?”

“I expect that will rather depend on Pidge’s success in obtaining our emergency visa extension,” said Udine.

“Oh, yeah,” said Ivan. “How’s that going for you?”

“Moving along,” said Udine. “She thinks it may prove advantageous to hire a local lawyer; she said she’d know by tomorrow or the next day.”

“My, um, mother might be able to put you in touch with a good one,” Ivan suggested. Not that he necessarily wanted their stay extended. With one exception.

“Lady Alys has already made that offer,” said Udine brightly. “So helpful, your mother.”

“What will you all do if the extension is—” he started to say, denied , but switched on the fly to, “granted? You wouldn’t be planning to stay permanently, would you? Apply for immigration status, take oath as Barrayaran subjects? I should probably warn you, they take oaths pretty seriously around here.”

Udine smiled slightly. “I am aware.”

“It wouldn’t be my first choice,” said Shiv, gem-black eyes narrowing in his dark face in some unreadable emotion, “but if there is one thing my life has taught me, it’s the need to stay flexible. Barrayar is not a place I would ever have gone voluntarily, but I must say I’ve been agreeably surprised by what I’ve seen here. They do say travel broadens the mind. If none of our first-choice plans work out, we may simply have to develop some new…enterprise.” His carved lips drew back in a smile-like expression.

Ivan tried to imagine how a Jacksonian who had already once fought his way to the top of a major House defined that last term. Plus wife, don’t forget —they did seem to be a team. The only comparison he had was Miles’s Jacksonian-raised and relentlessly entrepreneurial clone-brother Mark, which was…not especially reassuring.

Ivan wondered if it was better to lay his cards right on the table— Just what are you people after under that park in front of ImpSec? Or let them assume him oblivious? Presumed obliviousness had served Ivan well many times in the past, after all. Perhaps he should split the difference. Just how close to tapped out were the Arquas, anyway? Could he ask Raudsepp? Morozov?