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

[thisvorlunatic]

"What? D'you want to call down the lightflyer?"

[middlingalong]

"No. Just back to the embassy in the groundcar."

[thisvorlunatic]

"But—"

[middlingalong]

"No, dammit. Just quietly. Before that smirking bastard goes upstairs."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I take it you don't think it's acute...?"

[middlingalong]

"Oh, it was cute, all right."

[thisvorlunatic]

"You didn't murder anybody up there, did you?"

[middlingalong]

"No - but I thought they'd never - tell you in the car," says Ivan disgustedly.

In the car, it transpires that Ivan was all set to... Ivan... with Ladies Arvin and Benello, the both of them, only to find that he'd been slipped the opposite of an aphrodisiac. Miles identifies the zlati ale as the likely vector, after Ivan insists on ruling out natural causes for the moment of underperformance. (Ivan is half-proud of his solution to the problem - he made up a Barrayaran custom obliging him to supply his lady-friends with three you know, ahem apiece before taking his own turn and managed to leave them both asleep and smiling.)

He threatens Miles's bodily integrity over the possibility of the incident being reported anywhere, although of course he wants a visit to the infirmary as soon as they reach it.

At any rate, this confirms that Yenaro has been setting them traps, though it does not guarantee that he's acting alone.

With that subject put to bed until Ivan can get medical attention, Ivan wants to know whether the Empress's dildo has been disposed of. He is not best pleased with the "yes... and no" reply he gets, and has to be cowed into continued nonreporting silence with their embassy co-occupants by allusions to delicate politics and the incompetence of the staff in local ImpSec offices.

Ivan, muttering, sheds his cousin as soon as the groundcar stops, making straight for the infirmary.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles, for his part, makes straight for the shower. His black House uniform is in critical laundry condition; that two-way trek through the mud to meet with Linyabel really did a number on it. The rest of him... well. It's not that he's particularly muddy - in fact, he might prefer mud to the sight of his own body, just now. If only he had a supply of black curtains with which to cover all the mirrors in his suite.

If how the lady sees him is the inverse of how he sees her - he's surprised she didn't run screaming. Well, the haut-women can see out of their bubbles just fine; perhaps she's used to the sight of inferior humanity, blotched and lumpy and unattractive as they are. Perhaps it's all the same to her, a ghem-lord or Ivan or Miles himself... She said she didn't want to marry a ghem-lord. Why not? He should have asked. No he shouldn't. Yes he should. He'll see if he can slip it in. Compare histories, if he can find any interesting parts of his that aren't top secret. Maybe she'd like to hear about his grandfather's horses.

The ghem-lords win their haut-wives through great deeds. The Vor and the ghem are not so different - he has that observation right from the expert-ish Maz. Just now, Miles is well placed to do something reasonably great... his interests and the haut Linyabel's and Barrayar's and the Cetagandan Emperor's, all neatly aligned. Retrieve the Key, save the haut-ladies a crypto-crisis of untold proportion, clear Barrayar's name of whatever the governor in question means to smear it with, forestall a probable civil war. All in a day's work for Miles the Magnificent, ha. At least he has only three governors to choose from. A triangle to triangulate.

Even if he does manage it, though—even if the Emperor chooses against all custom and precedent to give him that miraculous reward—it's no use if she doesn't like him. She smiled. Twice, even. Does that mean anything? Does he dare hope? He feels certain, in the total absence of evidence, that no ghem-lord has ever made her smile.

[middlingalong]

Ivan is still down in the infirmary by the time Miles is through with his showering and his musing.

[thisvorlunatic]

Well, the showering part is over, but the musing continues - this time on a somewhat different subject.

What are his handles on this situation? Lord Yenaro - the ba Lura - the identities of the three governors and the physical and political placement of their planets. He can steer embassy security in Yenaro's direction without too much trouble by complaining about the Autumn Leaves incident; he has no line whatsoever into the investigation of Lura's death; personal information about the governors is thin on the ground, but anybody can stare at a map...

So he finds a map and commences staring at it.

The map is hardly any help at all.

Rho Ceta, governed by Este Rond - closest to Barrayar, positioned to benefit from any conflict between the two empires by leading the charge and hogging the spoils. Granted, that didn't work out so well the first time the Cetagandans tried it, and Barrayar has only gotten stronger since. Still.

Sigma Ceta, governed by Ilsum Kety, and Xi Ceta, governed by Slyke Giaja - both on the opposite side of the Cetagandan Empire from Barrayar; both positioned to benefit from trouble with Barrayar by taking advantage of a freer rein while the rest of the Empire is distracted.

If only one of the three had been an interior planet, neither advantageously close nor advantageously far, to be thereby ruled out of his analysis - in fact, he muses, the interior planets are poorly placed to benefit from a scheme like this in general. If they tried to rebel, they'd be getting it from all sides, a veritable prefabricated ambush. But no: his list of suspects remains the same.

[middlingalong]

Ivan eventually comes back. The infirmary confirmed Miles's guess about how the poison was administered and the happy speculation about its longer-term harmlessness.

And Ivan is again demanding explanations on pain of going to Vorreedi, who doesn't seem incompetent amounts of paranoid to him.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles tells him - almost everything. Out of all the things in the wormhole nexus that definitely aren't Ivan's business in any way, surely the one thing that is the least Ivan's business is the haut Linyabel's extraordinary beauty and Miles's hopeless romantic aspirations thereto.

But the rest of it, sure. Everything relevant to the case at hand.

He ends with, "So I don't plan on reporting... yet. I do think now is the time to start documenting the whole business, private-like. But if I give it over, Vorreedi'll want to cut me out, and I truly don't think he should."

[middlingalong]

"How - how - is this remotely your job?"

[thisvorlunatic]

"The job is there and I can do it, Ivan. My social position gives me a kind of access no other ImpSec officer on this planet can claim. All right? Now - when you talked to Colonel Vorreedi, did you plant the idea that Yenaro had a high-placed backer? We might as well put him to use, now that he's back in town."

[middlingalong]

"Not exactly."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I'd like you to talk to him again, then. Try to lead him in the direction of the satrap governors if you can manage it."

[middlingalong]

"Why don't you talk to him?"

[thisvorlunatic]

"I'm not - ready," he says. "Not yet, not tonight, not now. I'm still assimilating it all. And technically, he is my ImpSec superior here, or would be, if I were on active duty. I'd like to limit my, um..."

[middlingalong]

"Outright lies to him?" trills Ivan.

[thisvorlunatic]

He makes a face, but offers no verbal objections. "I need someone to cover the angles I can't," he presses.

[middlingalong]

"Right. Just this once," warns Ivan. "You realize, coz, that if somebody notices there's a web being spun they look for the spider? Then what, O Mastermind?"

And he bows his way out of the room, eyebrows raised in ironic challenge.

[thisvorlunatic]

Ugh.

[alicornucopia]

The following morning, there is an unusual visitor, who Ambassador Vorob'yev announces to Miles under that designation alone. (When Vorob'yev is questioned, alas, the identity of the visitor is only ghem-colonel Dag Benin, not haut-lady Anybody.) He is assigned to Celestial Garden internal affairs and Miles has been brought to his "negative attention" with respect to the death of Ba Lura. And the embassy has decided to extend to the colonel the courtesy of an interview with Miles. Which means a bodyguard (as a status symbol) and monitoring of the conversation (not).

The ghem-colonel greets him politely enough.

[thisvorlunatic]

The yo-yo is a charmingly primitive toy consisting of a pair of disks connected by a short stem, with a long string tied to the stem at a calculated degree of tension and looped at the other end to provide a grip. Skilled practitioners can make the thing dance the most amazing routines.

Miles takes the lead on this conversation so effectively, he feels almost as though he has attached a string to the good ghem-colonel's waist and is causing him to spin rapidly and hop up and down a few inches above the floor.

Has the investigation yet ruled that the death was a suicide? Benin indicates that they have - but his tone and expression indicate otherwise. Well, have they done tests to rule out the possibility that the ba was stunned elsewhere and then its throat slit on the spot by some unknown assailant? They have not. Can they? No, because the ba has already been cremated. Surely not at the investigator's behest? No, indeed, and why is Lord Vorkosigan so morbidly fascinated with this subject?

He admits to having solved murders before, without mentioning that the murder in question was singular, not plural. Do they get a lot of this sort of thing around here? No, they do not. Aha. He presses the cremation line: awfully premature, wasn't it? Benin assures him firmly that even the ceremonial guards would have noticed if Ba Lura had been hauled bodily into the funeral rotunda, dead, unconscious, or in any other state. Miles forges onward with his theories.

The body was only discovered when the procession actually entered the rotunda and found it there, and by the size of that pool of blood, it had to have been at least a solid quarter hour. Obviously, then, that exact spot must have been occluded to visual surveillance. Who would have known about this convenient gap? Someone a little higher up, perhaps - or a lot higher?

This provides Benin an opening with which to remind Miles that the questions here are supposed to be flowing the other way. Miles jerks the figurative string another time or two, then deigns to describe his original meeting with the haut Linyabel Miriat. To be specific, he describes the haut-lady as having taken him aside for a chat and asked him several polite but mystifyingly vague questions, which he is embarrassed to suspect might have been aimed at seeking a genetic explanation for his visible peculiarities. A genetic explanation which does not exist - he is always very clear on that point whenever it comes up.

From there he segues back into his helpful theorizing: haut-bubbles are so interesting, aren't they? How individually identifiable are they, and how easily borrowed? Could someone perhaps have stunned the ba, taken him into such a bubble, floated him into the rotunda therein, and arranged him in the blind spot before floating away again? Benin seems intrigued by this reasoning; he divulges that six haut-women crossed the chamber during the critical window. He has interviewed them all, along with the miscellaneous other personnel who did the same; none of these people admit to having seen the body. Surely the last one is lying, then? Benin attests that it is not that simple; Miles supposes that some of them might have passed by without noticing, if they kept to the other side of the chamber. Hm.

He drops a few words about the hazards of internal investigations and Benin's low rank - expendably low, you might say. Benin professes that these things are his problem. Miles is beginning to like the man. He helpfully lays out a line of subtly governorward reasoning: whoever arranged this murder must be high-ranking, with extensive access to internal security - if the ba has led an unexceptional life, perhaps the events leading to its death are very recent, concerning an individual who may perhaps have only been here a short time - if the ba left the Celestial Garden in the days leading up to its murder, perhaps it communicated with the murderer - the whole thing reeks of a rush job, desperation, panic, things that tend to follow from dramatic events taking place over a short period of time.

In closing, he offers to assist Benin with any further questions he may have and deftly deflects the suggestion that he answer them under fast-penta. Benin doesn't pursue the point; he didn't seem all that hopeful about it in the first place. It can't be very often that you get to administer interrogation drugs to foreign diplomats.

Miles is full of further questions for Benin, but he fears that if he keeps swinging this string around it will snap and the toy on the end will fly away. He only adds one more thing: a suggestion to the ghem-colonel that, given the delicate nature of his investigation and the high probability of the murderer being located in an upward direction along social and political ladders, he should travel all the way to the top as soon as possible, and make direct contact with his Emperor to request that his investigation be afforded protection from potential interference. Benin seems slightly alarmed by the suggestion, but allows that he will consider it.

Whew. Off he goes. Miles exerts considerable self-control to prevent himself from flopping to the ground and taking a much-needed nap in the middle of the hallway.