overture

[isthisart]

Nine days into their fourteen-day trip, the courier ship arrives in the Komarr system. Five more jumps to go. Miles is not yet capable of peeling himself off a willing Linya before he passes out (and willingness is in no short supply), and the resulting peculiar sleep schedule causes Ivan no end of giggling. Linya draws him diagrams of more complicated braids as aspirational goals (getting five and a half feet of slidy-soft hair to be in even the simplest braid properly is a little tricky), which induces Miles to spend most of a day fascinatedly braiding and rebraiding her hair in various configurations. She, meanwhile, writes pen software that eats standard comconsole software and renders it for pen-ability in what she thinks is a user-friendly manner, and works on Russian.

When they reach the Komarr system, there's a message squirt, bounced at lightspeed from the little ships that do nothing but dance back and forth from side to side of the intervening wormholes collecting and broadcasting data. It says that Captain Illyan invites Miles to supplement his mission report by bringing his wife along.

Comments

[isthisart]

"Linyabel is fine. Funnily enough, if I had married a ghem-lord I would have been officially trading in the 'haut' for a 'ghem' taking the same role in my full name - but since I didn't, I believe I'm technically entitled to keep it under a certain reading of precedent. Miles introduced me to his supervisor as 'Lady haut Linyabel Miriat Vorkosigan', but I'm not in the least attached to the formality for everyday."

[greatcomposure]

"Linyabel it is, then. And you can call me Cordelia."

[isthisart]

"Cordelia. Thank you."

[greatcomposure]

"Whatever for?"

[isthisart]

"General explanatory behavior. And telling me what to call you. I received a rundown of how to refer to miscellaneous Vor, but it has seemed incomplete - for one thing, I conducted the entire interview with Miles's non-Vor supervisor while avoiding addressing him by anything at all, because I didn't know if I was supposed to refer to a military hierarchy to which I do not belong and with which I have no formal status; and wasn't sure of other titles; and for another the etiquette seems sufficiently unfriendly that I suspect I'm missing a wrinkle. Within the stratification I'm used to there is literally no one I can't call by first name under at least some circumstances, all the way up to Emperor Fletchir."

[greatcomposure]

"It's correct to address Simon as Captain Illyan," she says. "But you probably can't get away with 'Simon' anytime soon. The unfriendliness is a semi-deliberate feature, I think. There's sort of an unwritten code to when you do and don't get to move to first names - they're very big on unwritten codes around here, either handed down verbally or transmitted by sheer social osmosis. Speaking of Emperors, though - I must assume somebody's let poor Gregor know about you by now, but I wonder if I shouldn't preemptively invite him for a chat. Before he's so swamped by Imperial notions that he forgets to be happy for Miles."

[isthisart]

"I don't object to meeting - Emperor Gregor, sooner or later as determined by people who know more about him than I do."

[greatcomposure]

"I'll make inquiries."

[isthisart]

"Thank you. Do you have any advice to supplement Miles's admonition that I be 'honest and direct'?"

[greatcomposure]

"Hmm... I'd say, try not to fall into the Barrayaran trap of considering the Emperor a title with a person attached, instead of the other way around. I think sometimes he thinks that way himself, but it isn't true. Emperor of Barrayar is a job he has, not something he dangles from on a string, and not the whole sum of his identity. I'm sorry, I'm not sure I'm explaining myself very well. But - Emperor Gregor is an office. Gregor is a smart young man with a strong sense of duty and a shortage of true friends. I can't say how well he'll take to you when I hardly know you myself, but it can't hurt to keep in mind that the possibility space is wider than the distance between allowing you to stay on the planet and... not."

[isthisart]

"Understood. If I do wind up being asked to depart the planet I do not plan to make a terrific fuss about it as long as I can head for any reasonably civilized destination with most of my belongings, but certainly I would like a warmer reception."

[greatcomposure]

"Do you realize that if you're asked to depart the planet, Miles is as likely as not to want to go with you?"

[isthisart]

"It has occurred to me that it would certainly enter his mind. I have not formed a prediction as to how long it would stay there, but the way you bring it up leads me to suspect that it would do so long enough to have him actually accompany me."

[greatcomposure]

"He would. And I suspect Gregor is sharp enough to guess the same. So no, I don't think you're going to be banished."

[isthisart]

"Then I suppose it is doubly important that my settling in go smoothly."

[greatcomposure]

"Hmm?"

[isthisart]

"I would like to stay here, but after reasonably civilized - that is, not Jackson's Whole or, or Athos or something, not that I'd be allowed on Athos - my criterion for places I wished to be was not Cetaganda. If Miles were not particularly attached to me, it would not be very important if I were met with general disapproval, deemed more trouble than I was worth, and summarily packed off to Beta or Earth or Escobar or any of a dozen other planets. Since Miles is particularly attached to me, and since I do not particularly wish to deprive Barrayar of the only one of him it has and him of the only Barrayar he has, it is worth a more significant investment of effort to ensure that I am not met with general disapproval - since I will not leave if this is reasonably avoidable and since the consequences if I do are worse than they might otherwise have been. Now if only I knew where to apply that effort, and how, in any detail."

[greatcomposure]

"I strongly advise you to collaborate with Gregor on any and all political efforts - getting people to accept you and so on. It's not just that he's Emperor; it's that he's very good at it." This with some degree of modest maternal pride, although Linya may reasonably be forgiven for not detecting the fine details there.

[isthisart]

"I will bear that in mind."

[greatcomposure]

"And how are you enjoying being married to Miles?"

[isthisart]

"I like it so far."

[greatcomposure]

"Certainly beats the alternative."

[isthisart]

"Yes -" Linya, at a loss for more details to supply - Cordelia is not her haut friend asking after a new relationship with a new love-poem, Cordelia is not some ghem-lord's preexisting wife probing for information about how their mutual husband's affections are divided, Cordelia is not a pruriently curious Lord Vorpatril, what in the world is she, though, what does she need and deserve to know?

"He braids my hair," she comes up with after a moment.

[greatcomposure]

...She smiles. "Does he? Did he do the one you're wearing now?"

[isthisart]

"Yes. Several times over in the last hour or so before we left the ship."