singing open the great gates

[middlingalong]

The following day, very little happens, except for Vorreedi mentioning that Yenaro has been arrested (by the civil police, for theft, on charges from a ghem-lord Miles has never heard of, as opposed to by Cetagandan security for treason).

Also, Ivan gets bored - with all the bodyguards Vorreedi now requires for them after the incident at the bioestheties exhibition, the possible spontaneity of going out with his ghem girlfriends is much reduced.

But the next day they get to attend the Singing Open of the Great Gates.

And oh, is there ever singing.

Comments

[thisvorlunatic]

"You mean, being an egalitarian Betan and all? No problem," breezes Miles. "She says egalitarians adjust to aristocracies just fine, as long as they get to be the aristocrats."

[alicornucopia]

Maz expresses a hope to get to meet the aristocrat Countess Vorkosigan someday, and Vorob'yev appears. Benin, who has apparently been promoted overnight, is escorted in by embassy guards.

"May I ask," Vorob'yev says, "what this is all about, ghem-General?"

"My Celestial Master," says Benin, half-bowing, "requests the attendance of Lord Vorkosigan at this hour. Ah - we will return him to you."

"Your word upon it? It would be a major embarrassment for the embassy were he to be mislaid... again." There is a sternness in his tone, slightly undermined by the fact that he is stroking Maz's hand where she has rested it on his arm.

"My word upon it, Ambassador."

And he leads Miles out, to the enormous Imperial land-cruiser.

[thisvorlunatic]

It's not quite half a block long, but it's damned impressive all the same.

"May I ask what this is all about, ghem-General?" tries Miles.

"I am instructed that explanations must wait until you arrive at the Celestial Garden. It will take only a few minutes of your time. I first thought that you would like it, but upon mature reflection, I think that you will hate it. Either way, you deserve it."

From this Miles deduces that whatever it is, it probably isn't a wedding. "Take care your growing reputation for subtlety doesn't go to your head, ghem-General," he bites out. Benin smiles serenely.

On arrival, Miles is conducted to an Imperial audience chamber - a small one, more personal than last night's conference hall. The room boasts but a single seat, currently occupied by Fletchir Giaja's Imperial ass; it and the rest of the Emperor are clad in such a swaddle of elaborate white robes that two ba servants flank his seat, waiting to assist him when he needs to rise therefrom. A third servitor holds a small flat case. A few haut-bubbles float behind, anonymously white.

"You may approach my Celestial Master, Lord Vorkosigan," says Benin.

Miles approaches. Standing opposite the seated Emperor, he is almost exactly eye to eye. The third ba hands the case to its Emperor, who opens it.

"Do you know what this is, Lord Vorkosigan?" asks Fletchir Giaja.

Miles eyes the medallion of the Order of Merit, glittering in its velvet bed on its beautiful shimmering ribbon. "Yes, sir," he says. "It is a lead weight, suitable for sinking small enemies. Are you going to sew me into a silk sack with it, before you throw me overboard?"

The Emperor glances at Benin, who shrugs.

"Bend your neck, Lord Vorkosigan," says Fletchir. "Unaccustomed as you may be to doing so."

"I..." says Miles, but before he can formulate any coherent objections, the Emperor has slipped the ribbon over his head.

"I am given to understand by my keenest observers," says the Emperor with a sideways glance at a bubble, "that you have a passion for recognition. It is an understandable quality that puts me much in mind of our own ghem."

Miles bites his lip briefly, then ventures, "As far as recognition goes, sir, this is hardly something that I will be able to show around at home. More like, hide it in the bottom of the deepest drawer I own."

"Good," says the Emperor. "As long as you lay all the events that led to it alongside."

Aha. Miles sighs. "Yes, sir," he says, trying to keep the wistfulness from his tone. As bribes for his silence go, the Order of Merit is... certainly well-targeted.

The Emperor, much to Miles's surprise, smiles slightly. "You will accompany on my left hand," he says. "It's time to go. And... after the cremation ceremony, you are invited to remain, to receive a more voluntary reward. You may bring your cousin and your Ambassador."

Miles gulps. "Yes, sir," he says faintly, buoyed by wild hopes.

Those hopes carry him soaring through the Imperial parade, down into the funeral dell - an open bowl, its sides filled with haut and ghem mourners clad in white, its rim painted with the more varied shades of the galactic delegates. Above arcs the dome of the Celestial Garden's force-shield. A much smaller force-dome in the center holds the deceased Celestial Lady and her bier-gifts.

The eight planetary consorts and their Handmaiden lead the Imperial parade in their white bubbles, followed by the truncated array of ghem-governors - seven, count 'em - and finally the Emperor with his honour guard, headed by Benin in place of the traitorous Naru. Miles limps along behind, grateful for his House blacks concealing most of his many bruises, somewhat more conflicted about the Order of Merit hanging around his neck.

Down, down, down they go, to fetch up at last in a ring around the central bubble. A line of young ghem-girls circles the thing laying down a final offering of flowers; a chorus sings, the music catching at Miles's heart.

[middlingalong]

Ivan, from his assigned position, looks completely blank except for slightly dancing eyes.

[exerce_imperia]

One of the nine haut-bubbles from the parade approaches the Emperor, accompanied by a familiar short little ba carrying a tray. Lisbet's voice emerges from the bubble, in measured ceremonial phrases denoting the return of the Celestial Lady's regalia to their source. Ba and bubble drift away—

—and back again in the next minute, for an exchange of further ceremonial phrases. The ba picks up the tray as delicately as it set it down. A stir of interest travels through the haut audience, particularly among members of the Serise constellation. And Lisbet Serise takes possession of the Star Creche again as Cetaganda's next Empress.

The Emperor lifts a hand, signaling Imperial engineers at their station. Inside the central bubble, a dull orange glow takes hold, brightening through red and yellow to a blue-white rendered only barely unsearing by the muting film of the force-shield. The objects inside blur into a brief whirl at that point, then dissolve entirely into molecular plasma. It only takes ten minutes from first to last. Then a wide circle opens in the force-dome above, and a much smaller hole opens in the bier-bubble to match it, and a roaring column of white fire vents into the blue sky. The upper dome closes again, and the inner bubble fades, leaving behind no trace whatsoever of the celestial corpse or any of her accompanying gifts.

Emperor Fletchir removes his white outer robes, and replaces them with a more colourful set brought by a ba servitor. The Imperial parade winds its way out of the bowl in reverse, led by the Emperor with Miles once again at his side. A large open float-car awaits them at the top; the parade, minus Miles, boards it.

Out of mourning, the haut Lisbet's bubble is a deep, rich shade of indigo, cycling down to something darker and bluer with glacial slowness. She pauses next to Miles. "Ghem-General Benin will return you to your delegation. I will see you again shortly, for a purpose you have correctly guessed."

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles... bubbles his way back to Vorob'yev and Vorreedi and Ivan and Maz. Benin seems about to say something to him, and then desists, which is just as well. Miles strongly doubts he could concentrate well enough to emit coherent speech.

It is therefore up to Benin to explain to the delegation, "Lord Vorkosigan is invited to a small ceremony with my Celestial Master and his new Celestial Lady. You may attend, Lord Vorpatril, Lord Vorob'yev, Miss Maz. It should not take up very much of your time. Refreshments will be provided beforehand."

Vorreedi looks like he may explode at any moment, but contents himself with one long stare at the medal on Miles's chest. Miles, soaring, ignores him.

[middlingalong]

"Is this actually happening?" asks Ivan faintly.

It is, indeed, actually happening. Vorob'yev and Ivan and Maz and Miles-the-gravitationally-unaffected go and have their supplied refreshments, and -

What color did Linyabel say her bubble usually was?

Robin's egg blue fading to turquoise on a four-second cycle?

There's one of those in this pretty little ceremonial hall.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles beams at it.

[exerce_imperia]

Also present are Emperor Fletchir Giaja in light post-mourning robes of grey embroidered with blue, Empress Lisbet Serise in her indigo bubble shading slowly up towards a medium-bright violet, and several more bubbles - eight of them, in fact - in the same assorted colours that entered the Emperor's float-car. Guests may assume that these contain the consorts. They arrange themselves in a semicircle around the perimeter of the round little hall while Emperor and Empress respectively step and float forward into the center. A ba steps up between them, arranges a small tray on a slender stand, and departs the hall; the tray holds a pair of exquisite little covered dishes, palm-sized and round, with golden bases and silver domes both ornately engraved.

The Empress disengages her force-screen and beckons to Miles. She has somehow found the time to change into a whole new set of robes, dark blue and deep indigo and pale violet in echo of her bubble's gradual gradient.

[isthisart]

The bubble that must be Linyabel floats up to their imperial majesties.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles floats up to stand beside her, on the basis of symmetry and Lisbet's subtle directing gestures. He is not literally hovering, but he certainly feels like it.

[exerce_imperia]

Now the Empress is facing Miles, and the Emperor facing Linyabel, in a little square in the centre of the circle.

Lisbet picks up one of the small covered dishes.

"I offer you the haut Linyabel Miriat," she says to Miles, "flower of the Star Creche, who goes willingly to your side. Do you accept this honour?"

She uncovers the dish and holds it out, revealing - a small spherical candy, consisting of a translucent iridescent shell over something tiny and flower-shaped within.

[thisvorlunatic]

"Yes, milady," Miles says dizzily. He picks up the candy, since that seems like the thing to do.

[exerce_imperia]

Lisbet smiles and puts down her dish. The Emperor picks up his.

"And although he is not mine to give," Fletchir says to Linyabel with a hint of a wry smile, "I offer you Lieutenant Lord Miles Naismith Vorkosigan, whose honourable service has distinguished him in the eyes of the haut. Do you accept this honour?"

He holds out the identical dish, uncovered to reveal its identical candy.

[isthisart]

"Yes, sire," says Linyabel, dispensing with the bubble and taking her candy too. She attempts to catch Miles's eye, and lifts her candy slowly to her lips.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles catches on quick. He eats his candy in a respectable attempt at unison with Linyabel.

[isthisart]

When the candy is eaten up, Linyabel takes hold of Miles's nearest hand.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles manages not to make any undignified squeaking sounds, but he does grin quite irrepressibly.

[isthisart]

Linyabel gets up out of her float chair.

"There," she says with audible satisfaction.

Maz is quietly melting in a corner over having gotten to witness a real haut-wife award ceremony.

The other people in the room with Vor in their names are various flavors of incipient screaming.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles will just be grinning adoringly at his wife. While holding her hand. Grinning and handholding. Those are both things that he is doing.

[exerce_imperia]

Empress Lisbet actually laughs out loud before re-engaging her bubble and floating away. Emperor Fletchir follows, with a hint of a smile cast back at the newlyweds. The consort-bubbles fall in line behind them.

Ghem-General Benin steps forward from a doorway to guide the galactics to the South Gate of the Celestial Garden, where a car is waiting to return the Barrayarans - plus new addition - to their embassy. Maz is welcome to travel with them or stay to catch the tail end of the funeral banquet.

[isthisart]

Maz accompanies them.

And Lady Vorkosigan strolls sedately, humming a little under her breath.

[middlingalong]

"So... hello," says Ivan.

[isthisart]

"We have met," Linyabel points out to him.

[middlingalong]

"...Congratulations?" he tries.