middlingalong | 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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

alicornucopia

"Lord Vorkosigan! I tried to call you at your embassy earlier, but you'd already left. What in the world happened in the rotunda, do you have any idea? For the Cetagandans to alter a ceremony of this magnitude in the middle - it's unheard of."

From:

thisvorlunatic

"They didn't exactly have a choice," he explains. "Well, I suppose they could have ignored the body and just carried on around it—I think that would have been much more impressive, personally—but evidently they decided to clean it up first."

This, needless to say, gets him a great deal of attention. He follows up with the same explanation he gave Ivan and Vorob'yev, rephrased and elaborated somewhat to include more detail and less colour commentary. When the aggregate curiosity of a few dozen delegates has been satisfied, he lowers his voice slightly to resume private conversation with Mia.

"Did you have any luck with that little research question I posed to you last night? I, uh... don't think this is the time or place to discuss it, but..." he would very much like to know if her answer will contain the words 'seal of the Star Creche'.

From:

alicornucopia

"Yes, and yes." The need for discretion thus agreed upon, they arrange to meet at the Barryaran embassy ostensibly for tea and etiquette lessons, later - and then back to their assigned places for food. Numerous tiny courses of exquisite deliciousness. Followed by a second attempt at the gift-laying parade, this one unobstructed by suicidal ba.

And then back home they go.

Edited Date: 2014-07-10 05:37 pm (UTC)

From:

thisvorlunatic

The situation with Miles's boots is both worse and better than he thought.

On the one hand, he doesn't think he'll have to cut the bloody things off just to get out of them. On the other hand, that means that the best method for removing them is to brace himself on a couch in his personal suite and enlist Ivan to—

"Pull."

From:

middlingalong

Ivan does his level best.

From:

thisvorlunatic

Miles half-stifles a yowl of pain.

From:

middlingalong

Ivan pauses. "Does that hurt?"

From:

thisvorlunatic

"Yes, keep going, dammit."

From:

middlingalong

"Maybe you ought to go downstairs to the embassy infirmary again."

From:

thisvorlunatic

"Later. I am not going to let that butcher of a physician dissect my best boots. Pull," he says firmly.

From:

middlingalong

Ivan pulls. He eventually separates boot from foot.

Then he smiles slightly. "You know, you're not going to be able to get the other one off without me."

From:

thisvorlunatic

"So?"

From:

middlingalong

"So... give."

From:

thisvorlunatic

"Give what?" he asks, one last halfhearted stab at pretending innocence.

From:

middlingalong

"Knowing your usual humor, I'd have thought you'd be as amused by the idea of an extra corpse in the funeral chamber as Vorob'yev was, but you came back looking like you'd just seen your grandfather's ghost."

From:

thisvorlunatic

"The ba had cut its throat," he says, recalling the image vividly. "It was a messy scene."

From:

middlingalong

"I think you've seen messier corpses."

From:

thisvorlunatic

Miles eyes his remaining boot and debates hobbling through the embassy halls in search of some assistance that comes with fewer questions. No, Ivan is easier.

"Messier, but no stranger. You'd have twitched too. We met the ba yesterday, you and I. You wrestled with it in the personnel pod."

From:

middlingalong

Ivan shoots a look at the drawer containing the sparkle stick. "That does it. We've got to report this to Vorob'yev."

From:

thisvorlunatic

"If it was the same ba," he says, theorizing on the spot in the interests of keeping Ivan on board with secrecy. "For all I know, the Cetagandans clone their servants in batches, and the one we saw yesterday was this one's twin or something."

From:

middlingalong

"...You think so?"

From:

thisvorlunatic

"I don't know, but I know where I can find out. Just let me have one more pass at this, before I send up the flag, please? I've asked Mia Maz from the Vervani embassy to stop in and see me. If you wait... I'll let you sit in," he offers.