Miles in Love - Lois McMaster Bujold [100]
"So you could design gardens for pay?"
"More than that." Her eyes narrowed, as she struggled for her inner vision.
"Planets? Terraforming?"
"Oh, good heavens. That training takes ten years, and another ten years of internship beyond it, before you can even begin to grasp the complexities."
"So? They have to hire someone. Good God, they hired Tien."
"He was only an administrator." She shook her head, daunted.
"All right," he said cheerfully. "Bigger than a garden, smaller than a planet. That still leaves sufficient scope, I'd say. A Barrayaran District could be a good start. One with incomplete terraforming, say, and, and forestry projects, and, oh, damaged land reclamation, and a crying need for a touch of beauty. And," he went on, "you could work up to planets."
She had to laugh. "What is this obsession with planets? Will nothing smaller do, for you?"
"Elli Qu—a friend of mine used to say, `Aim high. You may still miss the target but at least you won't shoot your foot off.' " His grin winked at her. He hesitated, then said more slowly, "You know . . . your father and brothers aren't your only relatives. The Professor and the Professora are boundless in their enthusiasm for education. You can't convince me they wouldn't be pleased to shelter you and Nikki in their home while you got your new start. And you'd be right there in Vorbarr Sultana, practically next door to the University and, um, everything. Good schools for Nikki."
She sighed. "It would be such a lovely change for him to stay in one place for a while. He could finally cultivate friends he wouldn't have to abandon. But . . . I've come to despise dependency."
He eyed her shrewdly. "Because it betrayed you?"
"Or lured me into betraying myself."
"Mm. But surely there is a qualitative difference between, um, a greenhouse and a cryochamber. Both provide shelter, but the first promotes growth, while the second merely, um . . ." He seemed to have become a little tangled in his metaphor.
"Retards decay?" Ekaterin politely tried to help unwind him.
"Just so." His brief grin again. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure the Professors are a human greenhouse. All those students—they're used to people growing up and moving on. They regard it as normal. I'd think you'd like it there." He wandered to her window and glanced out.
"I did like it there," she admitted wistfully.
"Then it all sounds perfectly possible to me. Good, that's settled. Have you had lunch?"
"What?" She laughed, and clutched her hair.
"Lunch," he repeated, deadpan. "Many people eat it at about this time of day."
"You're mad," she said with conviction, ignoring this willful piece of misdirection. "Do you always dispose of people's futures in that offhand fashion?"
"Only when I'm hungry."
She gave up. "I suppose I have something I can fix—"
"Certainly not!" he said indignantly. "I sent a minion. I just spotted him returning across the park, with a very promising large bag. The guards have to eat too, you see."
She contemplated, briefly, the spectacle of a man who casually sent ImpSec for carry-out. There probably were security concerns about meals on duty, at that. She let Vorkosigan shepherd her into her own kitchen, where they selected from a dozen containers. Ekaterin snitched a flaky apricot tart to set aside for Nikki, and they sent the remainder to the living room for the guards to picnic off. The only thing Vorkosigan permitted her to do was supply fresh tea.
"Did you find out anything new this morning?" she asked him, when they were settled at the table. She tried not to think about her last conversation here with Tien. Oh, yes, I want to go home. "Any word on Soudha and Foscol?"
"Not yet. Part of me expects ImpSec to catch up with them at any moment. Part of me . . . is not so optimistic. I keep wondering just how long