Venture? Tej wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. His eye, nonetheless, had brightened during this conversation, edging out that scary look of weariness and defeat that he’d had when talking about Eric and the loss of the station, so out of place on his broad, beloved face. “What kind of venture do you have in mind on Barrayar, of all places?”
“A mining deal.” A flash of grin. “Excavating history. Moira thinks we’ve found a rich vein of it. Every family should have a lost gold mine, eh?”
“They were current events to me,” Grandmama objected. “Anyway, the gold is the least of the real value.”
“Potentially,” said the Baronne, in a voice of caution. “Potentially. This is all still such a long shot.”
“Long shot’s better than no shot at all,” sighed Dada. “Which is what we’ll have if the Barrayaran Imperial government finds out about this, so no gossiping about this to anyone who hasn’t already been brought inside, eh, Tej?”
Tej wrinkled her nose. “Do you mean that old underground lab? Who’d want an old gene library? I mean, it’s all got to have spoiled by now.” And what would that smell like?
“Actually, anything that was stored sporulated ought to be fully reconstitutable,” said Grandmama. “And then there was all that tedious trash the ghem generals and their friends insisted on stuffing in at the last. I suppose some of them really believed they would have a chance to get back to it all, someday.”
“Tedious trash…?”
Dada sat back, his grin deepening. “Old records, both Cetagandan and captured Barrayaran. Several art collections, apparently—”
“Mere native objects, for the most part,” put in Grandmama. “Though I do believe there were a few good pieces brought from home.”
“—Ninth Satrapy currency and coin—that’s where the chests of gold come in—”
“The primitives in the Barrayaran backcountry always preferred those awkward gold coins, for some reason,” Grandmama confirmed.
“—and, basically, anything that a select mob of Cetagandan ghem lords in a panic didn’t have room or time to pack and couldn’t bring themselves to abandon,” Dada concluded. “I don’t think even Moira knows what all might be in there.”
“No one did,” Grandmama said. “The haut Zaia was quite upset with the incursion on her space, but really, no one could do anything at that point.”
Tej had started out determined not to be sucked into any more doomed Arqua clan ventures, but she couldn’t help growing a little bug-eyed at this litany. “How do you know…how do you know someone hasn’t found it long before this?”
The Baronne rubbed her hands thoughtfully together, and touched her fingertips to her lips. “Even if smuggled out in secret, some of the known objects ought to have surfaced and left a trail. Some of the records, as well. They haven’t.”
“What—how—how would we get at it? In secret?”
Dada flicked his fingers. “Simplest is best. If the building still exists, buy it. Or possibly rent it. If it’s been knocked down and built over, buy whatever is atop it, and proceed the same at our leisure. I understand the place wasn’t in the best part of the city. If that isn’t feasible, buy or rent an adjacent property and penetrate laterally. As always, fencing the stash is where the profit is made or lost—lost, usually, back when I was a young shipjacker. The best value of any item can only be realized when it is matched to the best customer for it. Which will be best done from some future secure base out of this debatable empire.”
“Fell Station, to start with,” said the Baronne, “if we can present ourselves credibly enough to Baron Fell. Once we attain that leverage point, our options open. And I’ll have Ruby back.”
“Isn’t, um, the historical value greatest when things are excavated and recorded on site?” said Tej, tentatively.
“A sad loss,” the Baronne agreed, “but, in this case, not avoidable.”
“How long have you three been planning this, this lowjacking?”
“Since Earth,” said Dada. “We had reached the nadir of marketing my mother-in-law’s hair, when Moira recalled this place.”
“I hadn’t thought about it in years,” said Grandmama. “Decades, really. But Shiv never did receive a proper wedding gift, when he married Udine. Ghem Estif having wasted the first one on that idiot Komarran he picked out, who wasted it in turn on, oh, so many bad decisions.”
“I came to you in nothing but my skin,” murmured the Baronne, with a fond look at her mate. “And”—she plucked a trifle mournfully at her short fringe—“hair.”
“I remember that,” said her mate, with a fond look back. “Vividly. I had very little more myself, at the time.”
“Your wits, at least.”
“Making this cache into test and wedding gift in one, if Shiv can extract it,” said Grandmama. “Does it occur to you two that you are running your courtship backward?”
“As long as we fit it all in somewhere,” said Dada, sounding amused.
“Your sudden Barrayaran husband,” said the Baronne to Tej, “put several wrinkles in our planning. We had originally intended to arrive here entirely incognito, but your reappearance gave us a second-choice level of plausibility, even as this Vorpatril fellow’s unexpectedly high security profile forced the necessity. I hadn’t wanted to activate our real identities quite so soon. Not till after the war chest was refilled, and we could prepare some richer welcome for our enemies.”
“Flexibility, Udine,” rumbled Dada.
“I admit,” said the Baronne to Tej, “I was quite frantic about Rish and you, when Amiri reported you’d failed to make any timely rendezvous or contact with him. Lily’s roundabout news was the greatest fortune—it made this Barrayar plan seem quite irresistible.”
“If we can extract this treasure,” said Dada, “it will be the saving of our House. The key to everything. It’s been a long time since I wagered so much on a single throw. Though if I’m to revisit the desperation of my youth, I want the body back, too.” He slapped his stomach and grimaced. His wife snorted. Though Dada looked more stimulated than desperate, to Tej’s eye.
“Now all we have to do,” said Grandmama briskly, “is find Ladderbeck Close.”
* * *
Ivan settled his in-laws in the back of Mamere’s big groundcar, and took the rearward-facing seat across from them. The canopy sighed shut. He gripped Tej’s hand briefly, for reassurance. Of some sort. When he’d sped home to his flat to clean up and dress for this command performance, he’d found Tej and Rish had already gone on. No chance to talk then, no chance, really, to talk now, nor for hours yet, probably. At least, shaved and sharp in the dress greens that he seldom wore after-hours, he ought to look a more impressive son-in-law than last night. He hoped.
Christos began The Tour To Please Grandmama with a spin past Vorhartung Castle. Ivan mentioned the military museum, within, for future innocuous entertainment.
“This place, at least, seems to have survived the century intact,” Lady ghem Estif observed, staring out at the archaic battlements. A few bright District flags flew there, snapping in the winter wind, indicating some rump meeting of the Counts in session. “It looks so odd without the laser-wire, though.”
A whispered conference with Christos had concluded that the Imperial Residence was best viewed from a distance, this first trip, which they duly did. Christos managed to wedge the groundcar as close to the restored pedestrian alleys and shops of the old Caravanserai area as it would fit.
“Well, that’s an improvement,” murmured Lady ghem Estif, not sounding too grudging. “This part of town was considered a pestilential death-trap, in my day.”
Ivan decided not to mention being born there, for now. Let someone else tell that story, this round. “The last Barrayaran I knew who’d been alive during the Occupation died, what…” Ivan had to stop and work it out in his head. “Eighteen years ago.” When he’d been barely more than seventeen. Was it really more than half his lifetime ago that his ancient
and formidable great-uncle General Piotr had passed to his fathers? Um…yeah, it was.
A drive past the fully modern Ops building drew no special reaction, a little to Ivan’s disappointment, but Lady ghem Estif sat up and peered more avidly as they drew away from the river. The Baronne, seated next to her, and the Baron observed her—pleasure? it was hard to tell, on that reserved face—with interest. “This was close to the edge of town, in the days of the Ninth Satrapy,” she remarked.
“Vorbarr Sultana is built out for a couple dozen kilometers more, now,” Ivan said. “In every direction. You really ought to see some of the recent outer rings, before you go.”
The big groundcar nipped into a rare parking space just opening up, and sighed to a halt. Christos’s jovial voice, which had been supplying sporadic commentary throughout the zigzag tour of the Old Town, came over the intercom from the front compartment.
“Here we are, Lady ghem Estif. I had to research back quite a way to find mention of the old place. The Cetagandans had seized it from an old Vor family that had taken up with the Resistance, and used it as a guest house during the time they held the capital, due to its extensive grounds and gardens, I gather. It was occupied again by one of the opposition factions, leveled during the rump fighting, and seized again by Emperor Yuri. The old Vor family never did get the property back, but I guess they were mostly dead by then. But this is definitely the exact site of Ladderbeck Close.”
All three senior Arquas—well, two Arquas and one ghem Estif—were staring wide-eyed out the side of the canopy, craning their necks.
“What,” said the Baronne in a choked voice, “is that great ugly building?”
At least something in Old Vorbarr Sultana architecture had finally riveted their attention, even if it was one of the most notoriously awful buildings in town. Ivan explained cheerfully, “It’s one of the works of Emperor Yuri Vorbarra’s megalomanic architect, the infamous Lord Dono Vorrutyer. He got up five major structures before he was stopped, they say. Not to be confused with the current count of the same name, by the way. Dono-the-architect was a relative of Byerly’s, too, though not a direct ancestor, no doubt to By’s relief. By can tell you more tales of him over dinner later. That gigantic eyesore is Cockroach Central itself—and it’s called that by people who work there—ImpSec HQ. Barrayaran Imperial Security Headquarters.”
A long silence fell in the back of the groundcar.
“I don’t suppose it’s for sale,” said Tej, in a strange, small voice. “Or rent.”
Ivan laughed. “Back when Simon Illyan ran it, he said he’d sell it for a Betan dollar, if only he could find a Betan with a dollar, and no taste. And if only the Council of Counts would build him a new building, which they wouldn’t. Mamere says he kept a holo of the Investigatif Federale building on Escobar—tall thing, all glass—on the wall of his inner office for a while, the way some men would keep pinups.”
“My, my, my,” said Shiv Arqua.
He kept staring back over his shoulder for a long time, as the groundcar eased into the traffic and pulled away.
Chapter Sixteen
It wasn’t till the whole party was rising in the lift tube to Lady Vorpatril’s penthouse that Tej whispered to Ivan, “Um, I didn’t get a chance to explain about Simon yet.”
“You haven’t…?” Ivan twitched. “What were you talking about all that time?”
“Not that.”
Ivan stepped out into the lift-tube foyer, trailing senior Arquas like ducklings. “Well, too late.” Simon would just have to explain himself, this round. Or not, as he chose. The marquetry doors slid open before them—someone had been on the watch. Mamere and Simon were both standing together waiting in her spacious hallway. From the wide living room beyond, a clink of glassware and murmur of voices assured Ivan that Rish and Byerly had managed to shepherd the rest of the family safely here.
Tej stepped bravely forward. “Dada, Baronne, Grandmama, I would like to introduce you to Ivan Xav’s mother, Lady Alys Vorpatril, and my stepfather-in-law, Captain Simon Illyan, Imperial Service, retired. Lady Alys, Simon: Lady Moira ghem Estif, Shiv and Udine ghem Estif Arqua—Baron and Baronne Cordonah.” A slightly defiant tone to that last claim; retired was not quite the word for their current status.
Simon cast Tej a strange surprised smile, as he stepped forward alongside Lady Alys to murmur suitable greetings after her to the offworlder guests. The Baronne didn’t turn a hair as he bowed over her fingers, nor did Lady ghem Estif, but the Baron, after a surprised glance aside at Tej, advanced to shake Simon’s proffered hand heartily.
“Ah, that Simon Illyan, I do believe—the ImpSec chief with the cyborg brain?” said Arqua, in his deep, carrying voice. “Your fame has reached even to the Whole. Ivan and Tej were just now showing us your ImpSec building. Very, ah, large, isn’t it. One of the sights of Vorbarr Sultana, they tell me.”
“Not my building anymore, nor my brain either, I’m afraid. My memory chip was removed four years ago,” said Illyan. “Upon the occasion of my retirement.”
Well, that left out a few details. Ivan took note.
“Ah,” said Arqua. “Sounds a bit drastic, as exit interviews go. My condolences.”
“Hardly that. I was ecstatic, personally.”
“Were you.” The grip finally loosened, and Ivan wondered if they’d been doing that who-can-break-whose-bones-first thing. Seeing the two men—the two aging fathers-in-law?—face-to-face for the first time was a trifle alarming. Arqua was stout, dark, intense despite his fatigue, openly dangerous. Simon was slight, graying, self-effacing…quietly dangerous. An effect not at all lessened—the reverse, really—by knowing that he wasn’t quite as mentally reliable as he’d used to be…Ivan was obscurely relieved when, greetings completed and their wraps removed by his mother’s efficient servants, they spilled into the living room and the family reunion.
Ivan dropped back to murmur to Simon, “Why did you grin like that at Tej, just now?”
A ghost of that pleased smile flitted over Simon’s face. “Because that was the first time I’d been introduced as anybody’s stepfather. Oddly flattering.”
“Was…that something you’d wanted, sir?” Ivan asked, taken aback. For all the other people who’d made assumptions about Ivan’s faux-filial relationship with his mother’s partner, Ivan realized in sudden retrospect, Simon himself never had. Not once.
“As your lady mother would say, that would not be correct. Which is no one’s fault”—or business flitted past, implied—“but our own. Although”—a brief, sideways hesitation, surely not diffident?—“I could likely do without all the mumbled ums.”
Um, Ivan started to say, then thought better of it. He converted it to an “Oh.” Did Simon care about that? Evidently. Ivan’s mental review of all the awkward, smart-ass ways he’d introduced Simon these past four years was interrupted, thankfully, by Byerly sauntering over.
By gave Simon an apologetic nod. It was always a little fascinating to watch By’s habitual smarmy irony so thoroughly purged, not only from his expression, but from his body language, around the former ImpSec chief. Illyan plainly still unnerved By to the marrow of his bones, even though By had once worked for him—or was that, because he had once worked for him?
Ivan’s glance took inventory of Arquas and Jewels, gathered around the drinks trolley or gazing out the windows into the softening winter dusk. “I see you managed to get them all here. Mamere find a bus?”
“A luxurious sort of ground-barge, yes. We didn’t lose a single Arqua overboard,” Byerly said, with mock pride. “Not for lack of their trying. You have a lot of new in-laws Ivan.”
“Yeah, noticed that.” Ivan nabbed a drink, with a smile of intense gratitude to his mother’s servitor, a regular from that catering service Lady Alys called on for very-high-end governmental receptions, when she wasn’t using Imperial Residence staff. The woman smiled back in a motherly manner. Simon and Mamere were tag-teaming, Ivan saw out of the corner of his eye, Mamere esco
rting the Baronne and Lady ghem Estif to the wide windows to point out the highlights of Vorbarr Sultana, Simon doing the same for Shiv, both covertly watching the senior Arquas’ interactions with their very assorted children. Very adult children, but did any of the oldsters really see them that way…?
Tej was drawn into conversation with her brother Amiri, and his apparent jeeves-shadow Jet, or Onyx; did each of the full-blooded Arqua children rate his or her own Jewel, or what? This was a family dynamic that Ivan’s acquaintance with the Barrayaran historical precedent of acknowledged bastards did not quite seem to cover. He made the rounds of the rest of the clan, inquiring politely after their hotel, their naps, and their trip to his mother’s flat, all of which were reported as tolerable, then drifted over to join Simon and Shiv in time to hear Simon say, “So how did Prestene get the drop on you?”
Shiv heaved a sigh. “In part, it turned out to be an inside job. Some trusted subordinates—shouldn’t have been.”
“Unfortunate. But that can happen to the most supposedly-secure bastions.” Simon touched his forehead in a frustration-gesture Ivan hadn’t seen for a while. “That was how the bastard took down my chip.”
“Your eidetic memory chip that was removed upon your retirement? Was this not ordered by your Imperial masters? I don’t follow.”
“The other way around, I’m afraid. First the chip was bio-sabotaged, quite thoroughly—Ivan would doubtless remember that part better than I do”—a sharp glance under his lidded eyes Ivan’s way—“then the slagged remains surgically excised, happily before and not after the ugly side-effects killed me. Not the way I would have chosen to retire from the Imperial Service, for all my daydreams of doing just that, after forty years.”
“Ah. I quite see,” said Shiv, sounding entirely sincere.
The two men toasted each other ironically with their nearly-empty glasses, and drained them. The drinks-trolley elf appeared magically to refill them, then vanished into the mob again.
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