"Follow me," she suggests, and she leads him on a meandering route through the garden, to a long, low, white building with a door that objects to casual entry. It lets him in with her as soon as she's finessed its requirements, though.
The corridors are much less labyrinthine, and she takes him to a spacious office, glass-walled on one side displaying a biolab of sorts.
Linyabel dispenses with her bubble and gets up out of her chair as soon as they're there. Her hair is in a single, five-stranded braid that falls to her knees and is dotted with pins of pearls carved into flowers every few inches; she's still in white mourning, but it's a different exact outfit, drapier, trailing to the floor when she stands.
"Lisbet," she says, to another haut-woman there, "Lord Vorkosigan. Lord Vorkosigan, the Handmaiden haut Lisbet Serise."
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The corridors are much less labyrinthine, and she takes him to a spacious office, glass-walled on one side displaying a biolab of sorts.
Linyabel dispenses with her bubble and gets up out of her chair as soon as they're there. Her hair is in a single, five-stranded braid that falls to her knees and is dotted with pins of pearls carved into flowers every few inches; she's still in white mourning, but it's a different exact outfit, drapier, trailing to the floor when she stands.
"Lisbet," she says, to another haut-woman there, "Lord Vorkosigan. Lord Vorkosigan, the Handmaiden haut Lisbet Serise."