Young Miles - Lois McMaster Bujold [113]
"Via Beta Colony, I gather. Ah—did you happen to run across a fellow named Tav Calhoun while you were there?"
"Oh, yeah, the crazy Betan. He hangs around the Barrayaran Embassy—he has a warrant for your arrest, which he waves at whoever he can catch going in or out. The guards won't let him in anymore."
"Did you actually talk to him?"
"Briefly. I told him there was a rumor you'd gone to Kshatryia."
"Really?"
"Of course not. But it was the farthest place I could think of. The clan," Ivan said smugly, "should stick together."
"Thanks . . ." Miles mulled this over. "I think." He sighed. "I guess the best thing to do is wait for your Captain Dimir, then. He might at least be able to give us a ride home, which would solve one problem." He looked up at his cousin. "I'll explain it all later, but I have to know some things now—can you keep your mouth shut a while? Nobody here is supposed to know who I really am." A horrid thought shook Miles. "You haven't been going around asking for me by name, have you?"
"No, no, just Miles Naismith," Ivan assured him. "We knew you were travelling with your Betan passport. Anyway, I just got here last night, and practically the first person I met was Elena."
Miles breathed relief, and turned to Elena. "You say Baz is out there? I've got to see him."
She nodded, and withdrew, walking a wide circle around Ivan.
"Sorry to hear about old Bothari," Ivan offered when she'd left. "Who'd have thought he could do himself in cleaning weapons after all these years? Still, there's a bright side—you've finally got a chance to make time with Elena, without him breathing down your neck. So it's not a dead loss."
Miles exhaled carefully, faint with rage and reminded grief. He does not know, he told himself. He cannot know. . . . "Ivan, one of these days somebody is going to pull out a weapon and plug you, and you're going to die in bewilderment, crying, 'What did I say? What did I say?'"
"What did I say?" asked Ivan indignantly.
Before Miles could go into detail, Baz entered, flanked by Tung and Auson, Elena trailing. The chamber was jammed. They all seemed to be grinning like loons. Baz waved some plastic flimsies triumphantly in the air. He was lit like a beacon with pride, scarcely recognizable as the man Miles had found five months ago cowering in a garbage heap.
"The surgeon says we can't stay long, my lord," he said to Miles, "but I thought these might do for a get-well wish."
Ivan started slightly at the honorific, and stared covertly at the engineer.
Miles took the sheets of printing. "Your mission—were you able to complete it?"
"Like clockwork—well, not exactly, there were some bad moments in a train station—you should see the rail system they have on Tau Verde IV. The engineering—magnificent. Barrayar missed something by going from horseback straight to air transport—"
"The mission, Baz!"
The engineer beamed. "Take a look. Those are the transcripts of the latest dispatches between Admiral Oser and the Pelian high command."
Miles began to read. After a time, he began to smile. "Yes . . . I'd understood Admiral Oser had a remarkable command of invective when, er, roused. . . ." Miles's gaze crossed Tung's, blandly. Tung's eyes glinted with satisfaction.
Ivan craned his neck. "What are they? Elena told me about your payroll heists—I take it you managed to mess up their electronic transfer, too. But I don't understand—won't the Pelians just repay, when they find the Oseran fleet wasn't credited?"
Miles's grin became quite wolfish. "Ah, but they were credited—eight times over. And now, as I believe a certain Earth general once said, God has delivered them into my hand. After failing four