At last, he heard his father call his name. Miles's head snapped around; such was the Viceroy's aura that the crowd seemed to melt away between them. Ekaterin peered shyly into the mob of uniformed men from between her formidable outriders. Miles strode over to her, and gripped her hands painfully hard, searching her face, Is it true, is it real?
She grinned back, idiotically, beautifully, Yes, oh, yes .
"You want a leg up?" Ivan offered him.
"Shut up, Ivan," Miles said over his shoulder. He glanced around at the nearest bench. "D'you mind?" he whispered to her.
"I believe it is customary . . ."
His grin broadened, and he jumped up on it, wrapped her in his arms, and gave her a blatantly possessive kiss. She embraced him back, just as hard, shaking a little.
"Mine to me. Yes," she whispered fiercely in his ear.
He hopped back down, but did not release her hand.
Nikki, almost eye to eye with him, stared at Miles measuringly. "You are going to make my mama happy , aren't you?"
"I'll surely try, Nikki." He returned Nikki a serious nod, with all his heart. Gravely, Nikki nodded back, as if to say, It's a deal.
Olivia, Tatya, and Ren?'s sister arrived, fighting their way through the departing crowd, to pounce on Ren? and Dono. Panting in their wake came a man in Count's livery of carmine and green. He stopped short and stared around the chamber in dismay, and moaned, "Too late!"
"Who's that?" Ekaterin whispered to Miles.
"Count Vormuir. He seems to have missed the session."
Count Vormuir staggered off toward his desk on the far side of the chamber. Count Dono watched him go by with a little smile.
Ivan drifted up to Dono, and said in an undervoice, "All right, I have to know. How'd you sidetrack Vormuir?"
"I? I had nothing to do with it. However, if you must know, I believe he spent the morning having a reconciliation with his Countess."
"All morning? At his age?"
"Well, she had some assistance from a nice little Betan aphrodisiac. I believe it can extend a man's attention span for hours . No nasty side effects, either. Now you're getting older, Ivan, you might wish to check it out."
"Got any more?"
"Not I. Talk with Helga Vormuir."
Miles turned to Hugo and Vassily, his smile stiffening just a shade. Ekaterin gripped his hand harder, and he returned a reassuring squeeze. "Good morning, gentlemen. I'm glad you could make this historic Council session. Would you be pleased to join us all for lunch at Vorkosigan House? I feel sure we have some matters to discuss more privately."
Vassily seemed well on his way to permanently stunned, but he managed a nod and a mumbled thank you . Hugo eyed the grip between Miles and Ekaterin, and his lips twisted up in a bemused acquiescence. "Perhaps that would be a good idea, Lord Vorkosigan. Seeing as how we are to, um, become related. I believe that betrothal had enough witnesses to be binding. . . ."
Miles tucked Ekaterin's hand in his arm, and pulled her close. "So I trust."
The Lord Guardian of the Speaker's Circle made his way over to their group. "Miles. Gregor wishes to see you, and this lady, before you go." He gave Ekaterin a smiling nod. "He said something about a task in your Auditor's capacity . . ."
"Ah." Not loosening his grip on her hand, Miles towed Ekaterin through the thinning crowd to the dais, where Gregor was dealing with several men who were seizing the moment to present concerns to his Imperial attention. He fended them off and turned to Miles and Ekaterin, stepping down over the dais.
"Madame Vorsoisson." He nodded to her. "Do you think you will require any further assistance in dealing with your, er, domestic trouble?"
She smiled gratefully at him. "No, Sire. I think Miles and I can handle it from here, now that the unfortunate political aspect has been removed."
"I had that impression. Congratulations to you both." His mouth was solemn, but his eyes danced. "Ah." He beckoned to a secretary, who drew an official-looking document, two pages of calligraphy all stamped and sealed, from an envelope. "Here, Miles . . . I see Vormuir finally made it. I'll let you hand this off to him."
Miles glanced over the pages, and grinned. "As discussed. My pleasure, Sire."
Gregor flashed a rare smile at them both, and escaped his courtiers by ducking back through his private door.
Miles reordered the pages, and sauntered over to Vormuir's desk.
"Something for you, Count. My Imperial Master has considered your petition for the confirmation of your guardianship of all your lovely daughters. It is herewith granted."
"Ha!" said Vormuir triumphantly, fairly snatching the documents from Miles. "What did I say! Even the Imperial lawyers had to knuckle under to ties of blood, eh? Good! Good!"
"Enjoy." Miles smiled, and drew Ekaterin rapidly away.
"But Miles," she whispered, "does that mean Vormuir wins? He gets to carry on that dreadful child-assembly-line of his?"
"Under certain conditions. Step along—we really want to be out of the chamber before he gets to page two . . ."
Miles gestured his lunch guests out into the great hall, murmuring rapid instructions into his wristcom to have Pym bring up the car. The Viceroy and Vicereine excused themselves, saying they would be along later after they had a short chat with Gregor.
All paused, startled, as from the chamber, a voice echoed in a sudden howl of anguish.
"Dowries! Dowries! A hundred and eighteen dowries . . ."
* * *
"Roic," said Mark ominously, "why are these trespassers still alive ?"
"We can't go round just shooting casual visitors, m'lord," Roic attempted to excuse himself.
"Why not?"
"This isn't the Time of Isolation! Besides, m'lord," Roic nodded toward the bedraggled Escobarans, "they do seem to have a proper warrant."
The smaller Escobaran, who'd said his name was Parole Officer Gustioz, held up a wad of sticky flimsies as evidence, and shook it meaningfully, spattering a few last white drops. Mark stepped back, and carefully flicked the stray spot from the front of his good black suit. All three men appeared to have been recently dipped headfirst into a vat of yogurt. Studying Roic, Mark was put dimly in mind of the legend of Achilles, except that his bug butter marinade seemed to extend to both heels.