bioestheties exhibition

[middlingalong]

The following day they visit the 149th Annual Bioestheties Exhibition, Class A, Dedicated to the Memory of the Celestial Lady. This dedication, though rather last-minute, makes it a key stop for offworlders on Eta Ceta for funerary proceedings. Lord Vorreedi is, unexpectedly, present too; he may be hard to slip.

The exhibits are gorgeous. Unnatural colors of various flowers are sufficiently routine to be used as borders for the real show - fish with clan marks on their scales (this exhibitor is about twelve), a pet unicorn (this one is possibly not even an exhibit), a tendril of vine that attempts to entrap Ivan's foot (its keeper dislodges it), and a kitten tree.

Ivan is displeased by the kitten tree, believing there to be glue involved in the attachment of kittens to their pods. He picks one in a determined rescue attempt. It is not ripe; the kitten expires when detached. Vorreedi offers to discreetly dispose of the poor beast, for which Ivan is intensely grateful.

Their erstwhile friend Yenaro is present. When Ivan notices, he points the man out to Miles.

Comments

[thisvorlunatic]

Vorreedi examines the device, checks the safety lock, and then hands it to Benin, who makes a similar investigation.

"I'd be happy to turn it over, of course," says Miles. "Perhaps in exchange for whatever information it yields to you, if you are feeling generous."

Benin responds noncommittally to this request, and essays a single parting shot about Miles's conversations with haut-ladies, which Miles deflects with a shrug and a reminder that he can hardly be said to know the haut Lisbet Serise, having met her all of once to receive some disappointing news in brief and then stand around awkwardly in the hall outside her office while she dealt with mysterious haut-business. Benin concedes the point.

As the ghem-colonel prepares to leave, Miles inquires whether he took the advice Miles offered him at their previous conversation, about being sure to get over the head of whoever may try to interfere with his investigation. Benin answers thoughtfully that it went better than he expected. Miles is satisfied by this response.



As soon as Vorreedi has Miles and Ivan alone, he aims an arresting glare at Miles and says pointedly, "I am not a mushroom, Lieutenant Vorkosigan."

To be kept in the dark and fed on horseshit, Miles mentally completes the phrase. "Sir, apply to my commander—" Illyan, chief of ImpSec, therefore equally Vorreedi's commander, "—be cleared, and all my knowledge will be at your disposal. Until then - I must rely on my judgment. Which says that in this situation, I should treat all pertinent information as radioactive material, to be stored and handled with utmost care and not given out without a damn good reason."

Vorreedi makes a few disgruntled noises, but releases Ivan and Miles to return to their suite.

[middlingalong]

Ivan is disgruntled, once the need for the poker face has passed.

They find, in their suite, a short-notice invitation to a garden party at the Lady d'Har's.

"It has both our names on it," observes Ivan with surprise.

[thisvorlunatic]

"Huh," says Miles. "Garden party - could be an oblique reference to the Celestial Garden. This might be my next contact. This had better be my next contact, because we're going."

[middlingalong]

"It's not my first choice of how to spend the evening."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Too bad. I might need you."

[middlingalong]

"Ugh," says Ivan. "Garden party. Fine. Too bad she can't just get the gene bank off his ship. Then he'd have the key but no lock. That'd fox him good, I bet."

[thisvorlunatic]

"That... is an interesting idea," says Miles. "Well done, Ivan. I'll suggest it to Lisbet. We still need the Key back, obviously, but that would certainly put a lid on any mischief he might get up to while he has it."

[middlingalong]

Ivan smiles, slightly.



The garden party takes place on a high roof of a building under an unobtrusive gold-sparkle of force screen to keep out wind and dust and rain. It is not inside the dome of the Celestial Garden, but it's close enough for there to be an odd light in the air from the glow thereof. The garden is exquisitely designed, populated with equally exquisitely designed components.

Their hostess Lady d'Har is a haut-wife of advanced age, wearing white mourning of course, and accompanied by her husband ghem-Admiral Har. He is of sufficient accumulated accomplishment that he could have chosen to stagger around under a mountain of medals pinned to his blood-red uniform, but instead he is wearing only one, the Order of Merit. (The haut-wife by his side is the only more significant honor it is possible to acquire within the Empire.)

There is food and drink to be had, and guests to mingle with once Lady d'Har has ushered them in. (She does this personally; apparently there is some wrinkle in when to attend to the presence of an unbubbled haut-lady, such as being inside her own home by invitation at the time.)

Ivan is dismayed by the demographics. "Wall-to-wall old crusts," he comments, before Vorob'yev suppresses the commentary. There are even a few haut-lady bubbles; apparently whatever social rule prevents the ladies who have not yet left the enclave of the Celestial Garden from keeping in close touch with their demoted friends and relations is not absolute, or can be relaxed around parties like this.

Vorob'yev says, "I wish I could have gotten Maz in. How did you do this, Lord Ivan?"

"Don't look at me," says Ivan, gesturing at Miles.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles shrugs. "Isn't this the sort of thing we're here for?" he says vaguely. Vorob'yev drops it, and the Barrayarans commence wandering around the party looking very out of place and eating the artistic little morsels provided. Miles nibbles on a tiny swan with rice-flour feathers.

And then they round a corner and find another bubbleless haut-lady. Miles recognizes this one, from his first and only conversation with Ilsum Kety - she is the haut Vio d'Chilian, ghem-General Chilian's haut-wife.

Well, that puts an entirely different and far more terrifying spin on this excursion.

[middlingalong]

Ivan's attention on the lady Vio is considerably differently motivated. Apart from their elderly hostess, who has to be upwards of ninety years old, this is the first haut-woman he has seen, and he doesn't have Miles's inoculatory history with the breed.

"Who is she?" breathes Ivan.

Vorob'yev identifies her for him. And reminds Ivan: haut-ladies, off-limits.

"Yes sir," says Ivan.

Vio, for her part, is paying them no mind, just looking at the distant glow of the Celestial Garden's dome.

[thisvorlunatic]

When the lady notices them at last and turns away from the dome, Miles identifies a fleeting look of pure rage on her beautiful face - visible for only the briefest instant, already fading as she turns; therefore, he deduces, aimed at the Celestial Garden and not at anyone actually present.

He puts a hand on Ivan's arm as casually as possible, ready to apply discouraging pressure if he senses any incipient flirtations. All things considered - her social proximity to the haut Kety; her presence at this specific party to which Miles and Ivan were expressly invited for reasons not yet fully known to them - Miles judges that it would be the height of foolishness to solicit her attention in any way.

[middlingalong]

Vio's husband draws her off.

"Lucky guy," sighs Ivan.

[thisvorlunatic]

"Mm," says Miles, dropping Ivan's arm once General Chilian and his wife are out of sight. The Barrayarans proceed onward. Miles tries to analyze this new wrinkle. Perhaps the couple's very proximity to Kety suggests that they are not part of some scheme - the governor seems to favour disposable human pawns, used once and then untraceably discarded. But two instances of this pattern hardly make it unshakeable. He wishes he had something, anything, solid to go on in all this.

[alicornucopia]

A bubble floats up to the group of Barrayarans.

"Lord Vorkosigan," says Linyabel's voice. "May I speak with you privately?"

[thisvorlunatic]

"Of course," he says, preempting any differing answers that, say, Vorob'yev might have wanted to give. "Where? For how long?"

[alicornucopia]

"Not far - about an hour, all told."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Very well. Gentlemen, will you excuse me?"

"Lord Vorkosigan..." says Vorob'yev, with a promising degree of hesitation. "Do you wish a guard?"

"No," Miles says pleasantly.

"A com link?"

"No."

"You will be careful?"

"Oh, yes, sir."

[middlingalong]

"And if you take longer than an hour?" asks Ivan, drawling only slightly to indicate what he imagines what might take place over more than an hour. Not that he really expects it, but Miles dragged him along to this stupid party and ought to be teased.

[thisvorlunatic]

Miles shoots Ivan a repressive look. "Wait," he suggests, and turns to follow the haut Linyabel.

[isthisart]

Linyabel leads him to a secluded little nook between bushes, under lanterns. She debubbles.

"You're not afraid of heights, are you?" she asks.

[thisvorlunatic]

"Er... moderately," he says, with a somewhat wary look. "Why?"

[isthisart]

"The easiest way to smuggle you out of this party is in my bubble gliding off the edge of the roof - it's safe, but it does involve going off the edge of the roof. It'll be much easier for your people to figure out that you've gone and how far if we have to go by lift-tube, but of course it will be easier still if we go off the edge of the roof and you scream or something."

[thisvorlunatic]

"I see." He eyes the edge of the roof. "I promise not to scream, then."

[isthisart]

"All right then. Sitting on the armrest is probably the most physically comfortable, but if you're going to need to close your eyes - I could probably see over your head to navigate all right even if you were on my lap."

[thisvorlunatic]

"Er—and you don't mind—? All right," he says, feeling more glad of his small stature than he ever has in his life.