marilacan embassy

[middlingalong]

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.

Comments

[isthisart]

"If the satrap governors are emperors writ small, the consorts are empresses likewise."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I... see." He halts his pacing, turns toward her. "So these consorts would themselves have become - non-miniature empresses, yes? If the plan went through? Is there any chance one of them was behind this whole fiasco?"

[isthisart]

"Significantly less miniature, yes - and it's a thought, but the Handmaiden doesn't seem to think so, and says that she's argued the lot of them around."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I feel an increasing need to meet this Handmaiden," says Miles. "If she's not too hautish to speak to an offworlder."

[isthisart]

"She's listening to this conversation, so if she considers your need compelling you may well find that the next bubble you encounter is hers."

[thisvorlunatic]

"And... what do you mean when you say you're an easy target?"

[isthisart]

"Oh. I - personally, not as a result of any of this business - am fairly marginal or - maybe a better word would be disappointing - as haut-ladies go. I am exactly the sort who winds up first in line to be awarded to some ghem-lord alongside a couple of shiny new medals. Probably not even the Order of Merit."

[thisvorlunatic]

...Miles splutters. "What!"

[isthisart]

"...Which part of that do you need explained?"

[thisvorlunatic]

"I - I know about haut-wives - I find myself incapable of imagining how anyone could consider you a disappointment," he admits, spreading his hands.

[isthisart]

"Well, not cosmetically, if that's what you're thinking. Temperamentally. Also I have an inexplicable minor balance disorder - that, they think is probably epigenetic, but they aren't certain; I'm slightly experimental."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Well, you remain the only haut-lady I've ever met. Perhaps the rest of them are even more - sensible, practical, prudent, straightforward... maybe the problem is that I'm valuing the wrong things," sighs Miles.

[isthisart]

"Probably," says Linyabel. "We are not supposed to be any of the listed things. We are supposed to be artistic and insular."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Well. I'm glad they missed the mark with you, then. This problem needs all the practical attention it can get. —I'm sorry if that was too flippant; I know a little something about being a disappointment, you see..." He lowers his gaze self-consciously.

[isthisart]

"The Handmaiden agrees with you, as far as Key-related intrigue is concerned. At least, that was what she said when I asked why me. And - mm. I don't disappoint myself, anyway. Which makes their judgments of exclusively non-self-esteem-related interest to me."

Is that a little bit of a smile? It might be a little bit of a smile.

[thisvorlunatic]

"...I envy you, milady."

[isthisart]

"The non-self-esteem-related concerns are significant," she amends. "I do not particularly want to marry a ghem-lord."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I—see." And how much less must she want to—he isn't even going to think about it. "Back to the business at hand... do you know, or does your Handmaiden know, which governors were docked at that station when I arrived?"

[isthisart]

"Ilsum Kety, Slyke Giaja, and Este Rond. Sigma, Xi, and Rho Ceta respectively."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Right... I wish I'd brought a map of the wormhole nexus," he sighs. "I guess - how soon can I see—I mean—talk to you again? I'm going to be missed at the party if I'm here much longer." Much to his deep regret. "If possible, I'd like to meet with you and the Handmaiden both. With enough time to have a real conversation about what each of us knows and what we need to do to solve this."

[isthisart]

When he mentions a use for a map her hand goes to the long wand of a pendant at her neck, but she leaves it be when he claims the need to depart. "I'll talk to her. I could extract the com link from the ba who led you here to allow contact at our mutual convenience but I'm not sure what the Barrayaran embassy would make of such a thing."

[thisvorlunatic]

He shakes his head. "They'd be all over it, and not helpfully."

[isthisart]

"Then it will have to be go-betweens again, but I'll talk to Lisbet and we'll try to find another bit of leeway in your schedule, hopefully a suitably prolonged one."

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles firmly reminds himself that there's no way she knows the marriage-related Barrayaran meaning of the term 'go-between'. Anyway, it would be a long trek from here for any such emissary to reach his parents...

"Thank you," he says.

[isthisart]

"You're welcome."

She reaches for the control panel on the arm of her float-chair.