middlingalong | marilacan embassy

marilacan embassy

Ivan does not successfully get Miles to stop fussing with the thing (Miles takes an impression of its impressions on a plastic flimsy) or convince him to leave it somewhere other than inside the bedchamber (it is in a drawer) nor get him to actually tell Vorreedi as promised (Vorreedi is dealing with importation infractions out of town; this is, Miles says, nothing to do with him). He does, however, get Miles (who complains about not having had warning about all this downtime such that he could have scheduled leg bone replacement surgery) to their ride to the party, on time and in uniform.

The Marilacan embassy is, Vorob'yev says, to be regarded as neutral yet non-secured territory - they can enjoy themselves, among fellow offworlders and some ghem-lords. Vorob'yev entertains them - so to speak - on the way by remarking on the Marilacan strategic situation; they've apparently been taking lots of help from Ceteganda, are ignoring their womhole maps and don't think Cetaganda would ever backstab them and blah blah. There is also more fascinating gossip about suicides with... "uncooperative principals", but not much of it; the topic soon drifts to the fact that the party may yield gossip that they should report to Vorreedi when he's back. Along with certain other things they should report to Vorreedi.

"Try not to give away more than you gain," Vorob'yev says.

"Well, I'm safe," remarks Ivan. "I don't know anything." A position of safety he'd dearly like to be able to cultivate more, coz, hint hint.

The Marilacan embassy is pretty, and scans their guests; Ivan does at least know enough to have left the nerve disruptor behind. There's an art project - Ivan doesn't rightly know what sort of thing to call it; a sculpture? With a water feature? And flying colorful flakes? The Marilacan ambassador, Berneaux, says it's called Autumn Leaves, anyway, so it's an Autumn Leaves - and then both lieutenants are shooed. The hors d'oeuvres are excellent. There is wine. Ivan can at this point get rid of his cousin and see if there are any ladies who could benefit from his company about.

Oh now there is one.

Ivan sets about charming the probably-at-least-an-eighth-haut ghem-lady as best he knows how. Mutants on purpose may be mutants still but pretty on purpose is pretty still likewise. He knows tact, at least with girls. He gets her (Lady Gelle) to laugh. Miles is wandering back in his direction again, but whatever, Miles probably isn't going to compete with him for elbow room here.

Then they're approached by some ghem-lord, Yenaro apparently, who mercifully doesn't seem to be related to or involved with the girl, and indeed obliquely congratulates her on having located "galactic exotics". Good, Ivan has been trading on the right characteristic with her so far. Gelle introduces Ivan, and prompts Ivan to introduce Miles, to Yenaro. They talk ancient history, grandfathers and who's at fault for events of the war - apparently they call it the Barrayaran War here.

Gelle kindly diverts the subject to the art piece, which is Yenaro's handiwork. He insults her stylistic choices and Ivan takes the opening to compliment her; if she's looking for sophisticated Cetegandan taste over appreciative galactic obliviousness Ivan can't help her, but he can show off the latter to best effect in case it'll sell. Yenaro chooses this occasion to tell the lady that Ivan was born in the usual - well, the normal, anyway - fashion. Her revulsion is disheartening, although she seems to find Yenaro's behavior at least as obnoxious as she finds childbirth grotesque. Either way, the combination of the two sends her skating off into the crowd.

Yenaro fumbles and then coaxes them into touring the interior of his sculpture. Miles breaks off, but Ivan goes ahead and has a look, no use holding a grudge at the man for dissuading exactly one girl, however pretty she was. Miles is apparently more interested in talking to the forty-standard lady Vorob'yev has on his arm.

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After the ghem-colonel has departed, Vorob'yev appears, accompanied by a man he introduces as Vorreedi. Vorob'yev compliments Miles on the conduction of his interview - open question who interviewed whom, really - and Vorreedi, perhaps charmed by Miles's interest in detective work, suggests arranging tours of local police organizations, declined due to lack of time.

Ivan also receives invitations, of which he will have to decline at least some due to lack of time - apparently the two ghem-ladies he absconded with at Yenaro's party and one of their friends are inviting him to things. Him alone. He declines to turn this into further opportunities for Miles's spidery behavior. Miles can meet the people he's directly interested in at official functions without intruding on Ivan's social ones.

Miles's next official function (Ivan bows out, claiming weariness from social engagements and further, contradictory and smugly exhausting, invitations), Miles is accompanied by Mia Maz and Vorob'yev both, and they are seated in much lower-status positions than the white-robed haut-men and the white-bubbled haut-women. There is a considerable amount of high-quality, subtly-read poetry from the haut-men (Maz explains that the women did their own similar ceremony the day before), which gets very wearing after long enough. The satrap governors go last. (Maz says that many of these poems have been ghostwritten by haut-ladies.)

Then: food.

Here there is an unbubbled haut-woman, not on a float chair at all: some ghem-general's award, dramatically older than Linyabel, silver-blonde and very closed in towards herself in the body language as she moves around. And another, over there, brown-haired and cinnamon-eyed, accompanying another husband-winner of the same presumable rank. (Maz seems to be making desperate facial expressions about them.)

...Miles is slightly worried by Maz's desperate facial expressions. He directs an inquiring facial expression back at her.

"Ah - to warn you," says Maz, "there's a rare point of etiquette in force today - if you see a haut-woman outside of a bubble, the polite thing to do is behave as though the bubble is still there. Because its loss is considered a great loss of face, you see, especially coming as it does with marrying out of the haut genome and into ghem-rank. You must never directly address a haut-wife, even if she's standing right in front of you. Put all inquiries through her ghem-husband, and wait for him to transmit the replies - and never stare directly at them."

"I see," murmurs Miles. He thinks back to his conversation with the haut Linyabel, and decides that under the circumstances, the rules were probably waived. "Thank you for the warning."

Vorob'yev proceeds to introduce Miles to the haut Este Rond, during which exchange Miles divines that the Rond must have been Vorob'yev's ticket into this extremely exclusive event, and also that even haut-lords seem to take note when Vorob'yev makes a recommendation. Miles actually receives a minute or so of Este Rond's undivided attention, for no obvious reason except that Vorob'yev introduced him personally.

Of course, the haut Rond might have other, less obvious reasons to be interested in Miles.

But over the course of their short conversation, nothing of substance is openly discussed, and Miles learns nothing either positive or negative about this governor's potential as a suspect. Finally, sensing waning interest, Miles ventures to ask, "Would you be so kind, haut Rond, as to introduce me to Governor haut Ilsum Kety?"

"Why, certainly, Lord Vorkosigan," says the haut Rond, with a thin smile that suggests he welcomes the opportunity to foist the offworlder on a fellow governor. He leads Miles over to Kety, who receives their visit with diplomatic displeasure. After formal greetings, Kety is impolite enough to let the conversation hang dead in the air; Miles tries Kety's ghem-general next, but General Chilian is an equally unpromising conversationalist, disgorging nothing more than a reluctant, "Lord Vorkosigan," before returning to silence. The general's haut-wife stands next to him like a very pretty, faintly contemptuous statue. Miles gives up, and tries the introduction gambit a second time.

"I wonder, haut Kety, if you would introduce me to Governor haut Slyke Giaja. As an Imperial relation of sorts myself, I can't help feeling he is something of my opposite number." Miles can't recall at the moment just how close an Imperial relation the haut Slyke in fact is, but they share a constellation - the Emperor's name is Fletchir Giaja - which implies some degree of genetic congruence.

This actually manages to startle a substantial response out of poor haut Kety. "I doubt Slyke would think so," he opines, but after weighing the request for a few moments he dispatches General Chilian to make inquiries on Miles's behalf. Miles watches the ghem-general pick his way across the room through the sparse crowd, attempts without success to lip-read their exchange, and observes that the haut Slyke has no unusual reactions to the request, although - unsurprisingly - he sends Chilian back with a polite refusal.

Miles concludes that the avenue of conversation with haut governors has been thoroughly explored, none of the three have proven distinguishable from innocent by their responses and reactions, and there is no further benefit to be had from hanging around annoying them further. He drifts off in no particular direction.

A ba - the same ba who has been showing him to Linyabel's hiding places - appears at his elbow.

"Lord Vorkosigan. My lady wishes to speak with you."

"Yes, of course," he says, and glances around for Vorob'yev - thankfully well out of reach - or Maz. Maz is reasonably close. "Just a moment," he says to the ba, and approaches Maz to inform her that he will be going off to speak with a lady and may be some time, and that they needn't wait for him.

Maz is doubtful, but makes no attempt to prevent him from leaving.

The ba leads him through exquisite gardens populated by charmingly engineered creatures, to a bubble in a cloistered walkway.

Since he has know way of knowing which haut-lady this is - or even if it is a haut-lady to begin with; he suggested the bubble-borrowing gambit to Benin himself, after all - he greets her in the most generic possible way. "Good evening, milady. You asked to see me? How may I serve you?"

Linyabel's voice, or one cunningly disguised thereas - well, as cunning as it needs to be with the helpful layer of distortion from the bubble, at any rate - says: "Lord Vorkosigan. You expressed an interest in genetic matters. I thought you would care for a short tour."

So, she must at least suspect they're being monitored. Good for her. Miles suspects the same.

"Indeed, milady. All medical procedures interest me," he answers. "I feel the corrections to my own damage were extremely incomplete. I'm always looking for new hopes and chances, whenever I have an opportunity to visit more advanced galactic societies."

"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."

Edited 2014-07-12 18:17 (UTC)

"Welcome, Lord Vorkosigan," says the Handmaiden of the Star Creche.

She is wearing a white bodysuit under a few layers of simple calf-length robes decorated with touches of white-on-white embroidery. Her skin is a warm shade of medium brown, as flawless as Linya's; her eyes are a much darker brown, almost but not quite black; her hair is mainly between the two, but where individual strands in the waterfall of curls catch the light just so, they shine a deep honey-gold.

"We can speak freely here. I agree with your assessment that it is past time we met."

Miles discovers that he is developing an immunity to haut beauty; he has only a moderate urge to throw himself to the floor and weep.

"Er... yes, milady," he manages. "Won't your Security be, um, less than pleased, though?"

The haut Lisbet smiles. "They will just have to contain their displeasure. First, I should tell you that I spoke with Governor haut Slyke Giaja yesterday, and I strongly believe he is not the thief. He wanted to see the regalia, but had no reaction whatsoever to the fake Key - no subtle tells, and no demands that I demonstrate its continued functionality. That narrows our list of suspects down to two."

"I see... you're sure about him?" he asks. "It's just, I was just talking to the other two, and haut-lords don't seem to have tells, as far as I can... tell."

"The haut can be difficult to read," she acknowledges, "even to other haut - but reading people is a particular talent of mine. Slyke is a dead end, I all but guarantee it."

"Okay. That leaves Kety or Rond," he says. "I couldn't manage to eliminate either of them with the lines of investigation available to me... by the way," he turns to Linyabel, "the ghem-colonel in charge of investigating Ba Lura's murder spoke with me yesterday. He wanted to know what we talked about, the first - and as far as he knows, the only - time we met. I said you asked me a lot of confusingly vague questions that I thought might have something to do with a genetic interest in my... anomalies. Which are not in fact genetic," he emphasizes. "Teratogenic damage only - prenatal poisoning, from an assassination attempt on my parents. I hope he hasn't managed to corner you in the meantime and gotten a different story out of you...?"

"I was not in the least informative to him, so the story is consistent," she says. "And I knew that already; I looked you up."

...He blinks, caught off-guard. "You did?"

"I had to know who to send the ba for the first time," she explains. "And I read quickly and I was not pressingly occupied, so there was no reason to stop at the part where I could describe you as being roughly its height."

"Oh."

He smiles.

"Anyway. This leaves two possibilities and I am at a loss as to how to meaningfully discriminate between them in a timely manner."

"Much as I hate to say it... if none of us can think of anything better, we might just have to wait," says Miles. "I gave the investigator a hint or two that might help lead him in the direction of the governors, and my own embassy's security is investigating the man who caused my embarrassing accident earlier in the week." He omits all mention of Ivan's embarrassing accident. "I can probably get something out of Benin if he comes back to ask me more questions, and embassy security might turn up some dirt on Yenaro. Those are the only lines I've got."

"So - this was close to pointless apart from getting our stories straight, then - speaking of which, what is the explanation for why Lord Vorkosigan is here if someone asks?"

"Lord Vorkosigan inquired after genetic solutions to his troubles, which I of course proved unable to supply—" Her comconsole chimes. She glances at it. "—And then, apparently, I asked the two of you to wait outside my office while I took a call relating to Star Creche business." She makes a slight shooing motion.

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