[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
piercing his body concealed at least from the vid pickup. His face was
paper-white, his skin almost transparent, as if he were literally fading from
the stage he had dominated for so long.
The gallery was crammed with wives, staff, and guards. The women were
elegantly dressed and decorated with jewelry, and Cordelia studied them with
interest, then turned her attention back to pumping Vorpatril for information.
"Was Aral's appointment as Regent a surprise to you?" she asked.
"Not really. A few people took that resignation-and-retirement business
after the Escobar mess seriously, but I never did."
"He meant it seriously, I thought."
"Oh, I don't doubt it. The first person Aral fools with that
prosey-stone-soldier routine is himself. It's the sort of man he always wanted
to be, I think. Like his father."
"Hm. Yes, I had noticed a certain political bent to his conversations. In
the middle of the most extraordinary circumstances, too. Marriage proposals,
for instance."
Vorpatril laughed. "I can just picture it. When he was young he was a real
conservative-if you wanted to know what Aral thought about anything, all you
Page 140
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
had to do was ask Count Piotr, and multiply by two. But by the time we served
together, he was getting . . . um . . . strange. If you could get him going .
. ." There was a certain wicked reminiscence in his eye, which Cordelia
promptly encouraged.
"How did you get him going? I thought political discussion was forbidden
to officers."
He snorted. "I suppose they could forbid breathing with about as much
chance of success. The dictum is, shall we say, sporadically enforced. Aral
stuck to it, though, unless Rulf Vorhalas and I took him out and got him
really relaxed."
"Aral? Relaxed?"
"Oh, yes. Now, Aral's drinking was notable-"
"I thought he was a terrible drinker. No stomach for it."
"Oh, that's what was notable. He seldom drank. Although he went through a
bad period after his first wife died, when he used to run around with Ges
Vorrutyer a lot ... um . . ." He glanced sideways, and took another tack.
"Anyway, it was dangerous to get him too relaxed, because then he'd go all
depressed and serious, and then it didn't take a thing to get him on to
whatever current injustice or incompetence or insanity was rousing his ire.
God, the man could talk. By the time he'd had his fifth drink-just before he
slid under the table for the night- he'd be declaiming revolution in iambic
pentameter. I always thought he'd end up on the political side someday." He
chuckled, and looked rather lovingly at the stocky red-and-blue-clad figure
seated with the Counts on the far side of the chamber.
The Joint Council vote of confirmation for Vorkosigan's Imperial
appointment was a curious affair, to Cordelia's mind. She hadn't imagined it
possible to get seventy-five Barrayarans to agree on which direction their sun
rose in the morning, but the tally was nearly unanimous in favor of Emperor
Ezar's choice. The exceptions were five set-jawed men who abstained, four
loudly, one so weakly the Lord Guardian of the Speaker's Circle had to ask him
to repeat himself. Even Count Vordarian voted yea, Cordelia noticed-perhaps
Vortala had managed to repair last night's breach in some early-morning
meeting after all. It all seemed a very auspicious and encouraging start to
Vorkosigan's new job, anyway, and she said as much to Lord Vorpatril.
"Uh . . . yes, Milady," said Lord Vorpatril after a sideways smile at her.
"Emperor Ezar made it clear he wanted united approval."
His tone made it clear she was missing cues, again. "Are you trying to
tell me some of those men would rather have voted no?"
"That would be imprudent of them, at this juncture."
"Then the men who abstained . . . must have some courage of conscience."
She studied the little group with new interest.
"Oh, they're all right," said Vorpatril.
"What do you mean? They are the opposition, surely."
"Yes, but they're the open opposition. No one plotting serious treason
would mark himself so publicly. The fellows Aral will need to guard his back
from are in the other mob, among the yes-men."
"Which ones?" Cordelias brow wrinkled in worry.
"Who knows?" Lord Vorpatril shrugged, then answered his own question.
"Negri, probably."
They were surrounded by a ring of empty seats. Cordelia hadn't been sure
if it was for security or courtesy. Evidently the second, for two latecomers,
a man in commander's dress greens and a younger one in rich-looking civilian
clothes, arrived and apologetically sat in front of them. Cordelia thought
they looked like brothers, and had the guess confirmed when the younger said,
"Look, there's Father, three seats behind old Vortala. Which one's the new
Regent?"
"The bandy-legged character in the red-and-blues, just sitting down to
Vortala's right."
Cordelia and Vorpatril exchanged a look behind their backs, and Cordelia
put a finger to her lips. Vorpatril grinned and shrugged.
Page 141
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"What's the word on him in the Service?"
"Depends on who you ask," said the commander. "Sardi thinks he's a
strategic genius, and dotes on his communiques. He's been all over the place.
Every brushfire in the last twenty-five years seems to have his name in it
someplace. Uncle Rulf used to think the world of him. On the other hand,
Niels, who was at Escobar, said he was the most cold-blooded bastard he'd ever
met."
"I hear he has a reputation as a secret progressive."
"There's nothing secret about it. Some of the senior Vor officers are
scared to death of him. He's been trying to get Father with him and Vortala on
that new tax ruling."
"Oh, yawn."
"It's the direct Imperial tax on inheritances."
"Ouch! Well, that wouldn't hit him, would it? The Vorkosigans are so damn
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]