Young Miles - Lois McMaster Bujold [130]
Miles gave Ivan a short I-told-you-so nod; Ivan began nibbling on a thumbnail.
"There's evidently been a lot of behind-the-scenes maneuvering—I didn't understand half of her message discs. I'm convinced only a Barrayaran could figure out how their government works. By all right reason it should have collapsed years ago. Anyway, most of it seemed to revolve around changing the substance of the charge from treason by violation of something called Vorloupulous's law to treason by intent to usurp the Imperial throne."
"What!" Miles shot to his feet. The heat of terror flushed through him. "This is pure insanity! I don't want Gregor's job! Do they think I'm out of my mind? In the first place, I'd need to command the loyalty of the whole Imperial Service, not just some grubby free mercenary fleet—"
"You mean there really was a mercenary fleet?" His grandmother's eyes widened. "I thought it was just a wild rumor. What Cordelia said about the charges makes more sense, then."
"What did Mother say?"
"That your father went to a great deal of trouble to goad this Count Vor-what's-his-name—I can never keep all those Vor-people straight—"
"Vordrozda?"
"Yes, that was it."
Miles and Ivan exchanged wild looks.
"To goad Vordrozda to up the charge from the minor to the major, while appearing publicly to want just the opposite. I didn't understand what difference it made, since the penalty's the same."
"Did Father succeed?"
"Apparently. At least as of two weeks ago, when the fast courier that arrived yesterday left Barrayar."
"Ah." Miles began to pace. "Ah. Clever, clever—maybe . . ."
"I don't understand it either," complained Ivan. "Usurpation is a much worse charge!"
"But it happens to be one I'm innocent of. And furthermore, it's a charge of intent. About all I'd have to do is show up to disprove it. Violating Vorloupulous's law is a charge of fact—and in fact, although not in intent, I'm guilty of it. Given that I showed up for my trial, and spoke the truth as I'm sworn to, it'd be a lot harder to wriggle out of."
Ivan finished his second thumbnail. "What makes you think your innocence or guilt is going to have anything to do with the outcome?"
"I beg your pardon?" said Mrs. Naismith.
"That's why I said, maybe," explained Miles. "This thing is so damned political—how many votes d'you suppose Vordrozda will have sewn up in advance, before any evidence or testimony is even presented? He's got to have some, or he'd never have dared to float this in the first place."
"You're asking me?" said Ivan plaintively.
"You . . ." Miles's eye fell on his cousin. "You . . . I am absolutely convinced you are the key to this thing, if only I can figure out how to fit you into the lock."
Ivan looked as if he were trying, and failing, to picture himself as a key to anything. "Why?"
"For one thing, until we report in somewhere, Hessman and Vordrozda will think you're dead."
"What?" said Mrs. Naismith.
Miles explained about the disappearance of Captain Dimir's mission. He touched his forehead, and added to Ivan, "And that's the real reason for this, besides Calhoun, of course."
"Speaking of Calhoun," said his grandmother, "he's been coming around here regularly, looking for you. You'd best be on the lookout for him, if you really mean to stay covert."
"Uh," said Miles, "thanks. Anyway, Ivan, if Dimir's ship was sabotaged, it would have to have taken somebody on the inside to do it. What's to keep whoever doesn't want me to show up for my trial from trying again, if we so-conveniently place ourselves in his hands by popping up at the Embassy?"
"Miles, your mind is crookeder than your bac—I mean—anyway, are you sure you're not catching Bothari's disease?" said Ivan. "You're making me feel like I've got a bull's-eye painted on my back."
Miles grinned, feeling bizarrely exhilarated. "Wakes you up, doesn't it?" It seemed to him he could hear the gates of reason clicking over in his own brain, cascading faster and faster. His voice took on a faraway tone.