Miles, Mystery & Mayhem - Lois McMaster Bujold [19]
The silence lengthened. Maybe she'd never seen a physically imperfect man before. Miles bowed and waited, trying to look cool and suave, and not stunned and wildly curious.
"So, Lord Vorkosigan," came the voice again at last. "Here I am."
"Er . . . quite." Miles hesitated. "And just who are you, milady, besides a very pretty soap-bubble?"
There was a longer pause, then, "I am the haut Rian Degtiar. Servant of the Celestial Lady, and Handmaiden of the Star Crèche."
Another flowery haut-title that gave no clue to its function. He could name every ghem-lord on the Cetagandan General Staff, all the satrap governors and their ghem-officers, but this female haut-babble was new to him. But the Celestial Lady was the polite name for the late Empress haut Lisbet Degtiar, and that name at least he knew—
"You are a relative of the late Dowager Empress, milady?"
"I am of her genomic constellation, yes. Three generations removed. I have served her half my life."
A lady-in-waiting, all right. One of the old Empress's personal retinue, then, the most inward of insiders. Very high rank, probably very aged as well. "Uh . . . you're not related to a ghem-lord named Yenaro, by chance, are you?"
"Who?" Even through the force-screen the voice conveyed utter bafflement.
"Never mind. Clearly not important." His legs were beginning to throb. Getting the damn boots back off when he returned to the embassy was going to be an even better trick than getting them on had been. "I could not help noticing your serving woman. Are there many folk around here with no hair?"
"It is not a woman. It is ba."
"Ba?"
"The neuter ones, the Emperor's high-slaves. In his Celestial Father's time it was the fashion to make them smooth like that."
Ah. Genetically-engineered, genderless servants. He'd heard rumors about them, mostly connected, illogically enough, with sexual scenarios that had more to do with the teller's hopeful fantasies than with any likely reality. But they were reputed to be a race utterly loyal to the lord who had, after all, literally created them. "So . . . not all ba are hairless, but all the hairless ones are ba?" he worked it out.
"Yes . . ." More silence, then, "Why have you come to the Celestial Garden, Lord Vorkosigan?"
His brow wrinkled. "To hold up Barrayar's honor in this circu—um, solemn procession, and to present your late Empress's bier-gift. I'm an envoy. By appointment of Emperor Gregor Vorbarra, whom I serve. In my own small way."
Another, longer pause. "You mock me in my misery."
"What?"
"What do you want, Lord Vorkosigan?"
"What do I want? You called me here, Lady, isn't it the other way around?" He rubbed his neck, tried again. "Er . . . can I help you, by chance?"
"You?!"
Her astonished tone stung him. "Yeah, me! I'm not as . . ." incompetent as I look. "I've been known to accomplish a thing or two, in my time. But if you won't give me a clue as to what this is all about, I can't. I will if I do know but I can't if I don't. Don't you see?" Now he had confused himself, tongue-tangled. "Look, can we start this conversation over?" He bowed low. "Good day, I am Lord Miles Vorkosigan of Barrayar. How may I assist you, milady?"
"Thief—!"
The light dawned at last. "Oh. Oh, no. I am a Vorkosigan, and no thief, milady. Though as possibly a recipient of stolen property, I may be a fence," he allowed judiciously.
More baffled silence; perhaps she was not familiar with criminal jargon. Miles went on a little desperately, "Have you, uh, by chance lost an object? Rod-shaped electronic device with a bird-crest seal on the cap?"
"You have it!" Her voice was a wail of dismay.
"Well, not on me."
Her voice went low, throaty, desperate. "You still have it. You must return it to me."
"Gladly, if you can prove it belongs to you. I certainly don't pretend it belongs to me," he added pointedly.
"You would do this . . . for nothing?"
"For the honor of my name, and, er . . . I am ImpSec. I'd do almost anything for information. Satisfy my curiosity, and the deed is done."
Her voice