Cordelia's Honor - Lois McMaster Bujold [118]
"No," said Kareen. "He was not. I thought he was Vorrutyer's creature."
"He chose . . . he chose to be otherwise. I think it was the most heroic act I've ever witnessed. Out of the middle of that swamp of evil and insanity, to reach for . . ." Cordelia trailed off, embarrassed to say, reach for redemption. After a pause she asked, "Do you blame Admiral Vorrutyer for Prince Serg's, uh, corruption?" As long as they were clearing the air . . . Nobody mentions Prince Serg. He thought to take a bloody shortcut to the Imperium, and now he's just . . . disappeared.
"Ges Vorrutyer . . ." Kareen's hands twisted, "found a like-minded friend in Serg. A fertile follower, in his vile amusements. Maybe not . . . all Vorrutyer's fault. I don't know."
An honest answer, Cordelia sensed. Kareen added lowly, "Ezar protected me from Serg, after I became pregnant. I had not even seen my husband for over a year, when he was killed at Escobar."
Perhaps I will not mention Prince Serg again either. "Ezar was a powerful protector. I hope Aral may do as well," Cordelia offered. Ought she to refer to Emperor Ezar in the past tense already? Everybody else seemed to.
Kareen came back from some absence, and shook herself to focus. "Tea, Lady Vorkosigan?" She smiled. She touched a comm link, concealed in a jeweled pin on her shoulder, and gave domestic orders. Apparently the private interview was over. Captain Naismith must now try to figure out how Lady Vorkosigan should take tea with a princess.
Gregor and the bodyguard reappeared about the time the cream cakes were being served, and Gregor set about successfully charming the ladies for a second helping. Kareen drew the line firmly at thirds. Prince Serg's son seemed an utterly normal boy, if quiet around strangers. Cordelia watched him with Kareen with deep personal interest. Motherhood. Everybody did it. How hard could it be?
"How do you like your new home so far, Lady Vorkosigan?" the princess inquired, making polite conversation. Tea-table stuff; no naked faces now. Not in front of the children.
Cordelia thought it over. "The country place, south at Vorkosigan Surleau, is just beautiful. That wonderful lake—it's bigger than any open body of water on the whole of Beta Colony, yet Aral just takes it for granted. Your planet is beautiful beyond measure." Your planet. Not my planet? In a free-association test, "home" still triggered "Beta Colony" in Cordelia's mind. Yet she could have rested in Vorkosigan's arms by the lake forever.
"The capital here—well, it's certainly more varied than anything we have at ho—on Beta Colony. Although," she laughed self-consciously, "there seem to be so many soldiers. Last time I was surrounded by that many green uniforms, I was in a POW camp."
"Do we still look like the enemy to you?" asked the princess curiously.
"Oh—you all stopped looking like the enemy to me even before the war was over. Just assorted victims, variously blind."
"You have penetrating eyes, Lady Vorkosigan." The princess sipped tea, smiling into her cup. Cordelia blinked.
"Vorkosigan House does tend to a barracks atmosphere, when Count Piotr is in residence," Cordelia commented. "All his liveried men. I think I've seen a couple of women servants so far, whisking around corners, but I haven't caught one yet. A Barrayaran barracks, that is. My Betan service was a different sort of thing."
"Mixed," said Droushnakovi. Was that the light of envy in her eyes? "Women and men both serving."
"Assignment by aptitude test," Cordelia agreed. "Strictly. Of course the more physical jobs are skewed to the men, but there doesn't seem to be that strange obsessive status-thing attached to them."
"Respect," sighed Droushnakovi.