Part 21 (1/2)
As instructed, Cordelia rested a lot in Vorkosigan's quarters. All too soon she felt re-energized enough to start beating on the walls. She then tried varying the prescription with a few experimental push-ups and knee-bends (but not sit-ups). She was just contemplating the merits and drawbacks of going to join Bothari in the gym, when the comconsole chimed.
Koudelka's apprehensive face appeared over the vid plate. ”Milady, m'lord requests you join him now in Briefing Room Seven. Something's come in he wants you to see.”
Cordelia's stomach twisted. ”All right. On my way.”
An array of men were waiting in Briefing Room Seven, cl.u.s.tered around a vidconsole in low-voiced debate. Staffers, Kanzian, Minister Vortala himself. Vorkosigan looked up and gave her a brief, unfelt smile.
”Cordelia. I'd like your opinion on something that's come in.”
Flattering, but, ”What sort of something?”
”Vordarian's latest special report has a new twist. Kou, replay the vid, please.”
Vordarian's propaganda broadcasts from the capital were mostly subjects for derision, among Vorkosigan's men. Their faces looked rather more serious, this time.
Vordarian appeared in what was recognizably one of the state rooms of the Imperial Residence, the formal and serene Blue Room. Ezar Vorbarra used to make his rare public p.r.o.nouncements from that background. Vorkosigan frowned.
Vordarian, in full dress greens, was seated on an ivory silk sofa, Princess Kareen at his side. Her dark hair was pulled back severely from her oval face with jeweled combs. She wore a striking black gown, somber and formal.
Vordarian spoke only a few earnest words, invoking the viewers' attention. Then the vid cut away to the great chamber of the Council of Counts at Vorhartung Castle. The vid zoomed in on the Lord Guardian of the Speaker's circle, dressed in his full regalia. The vid did not show what, besides its own pickup, was aimed at the Lord Guardian's head, but something in his repeated looks, just to one side instead of directly at the focus, made Cordelia place a lethally armed man, or maybe a squad, in that unseen position.
The Lord Guardian raised a plastic flimsy, and began, ”I quote--due to the--”
”Ah, slick!” murmured Vortala, and Koudelka paused the vid to say, ”I beg your pardon, Minister?”
”The I-quote--he's just legally distanced himself from the words about to come off that flimsy and out his mouth. Didn't catch that, the first time. Good, Georgos, good,” Vortala addressed the paralyzed figure. ”Go on, Lieutenant, I didn't mean to interrupt.”
The holovid image continued, ”--vile murder of the child--Emperor Gregor Vorbarra, and betrayal of his sacred oaths by the would-be usurper Vorkosigan, the Council of Counts declares the false Regent faithless, outcast, stripped of powers and outlawed. This day the Council of Counts confirms Commodore Count Vidal Vordarian as Prime Minister and acting Regent for Dowager- Princess Kareen Vorbarra, forming an emergency caretaker government until such time as a new heir may be found and confirmed by the Council of Counts and Council of Ministers in full council a.s.sembled.”
He continued with further legalities, as the vid panned the chamber. ”Freeze it, Koudelka,” Vortala demanded. His lips moved as he counted. ”Ha! Not even one-third present. He doesn't have near a quorum. Who does he think he's fooling?”
”Desperate man, desperate measures,” Kanzian murmured as the holo continued at Koudelka's touch.
”Watch Kareen,” Vorkosigan said to Cordelia.
The holo cut back to Vordarian and the Princess. Vordarian went on in such mealy terms, it took Cordelia a moment to unravel the fact that in the phrase ”personal protector,” Vordarian was announcing an engagement of marriage. His hand closed earnestly over Kareen's, though his eye contact was reserved for the holovid. Kareen lifted her hand to receive a ring without changing her calm expression in the slightest. The vid closed with solemn music. The End. They were thankfully spared Betan-style post-mortem commentary; apparently, n.o.body ever asked the Barrayaran-in-the-street much of anything, at least until major rioting raised the volume to a level no one dared ignore.
”How would you a.n.a.lyze Kareen's reaction?” Aral asked Cordelia.
Cordelia's brows rose. ”What reaction? How, a.n.a.lyze? She never said a word!”
”Just so. Does she looked drugged to you? Or under compulsion? Or was that real a.s.sent? Is she duped by Vordarian's propaganda, or what?” Frustrated, Vorkosigan eyed the s.p.a.ce where the woman's image had lately been. ”She's always been reserved, but that was the most unreadable performance I've ever seen.”
”Run it again, Kou,” said Cordelia. She had him stop at the best views of Kareen. She studied the frozen face, scarcely less animate than when the holo was running.
”She doesn't look woozy or sedated. And her eyes don't look aside the way the Speakers did.”
”n.o.body threatening her with a weapon?” Vortala guessed.
”Or perhaps she simply doesn't care,” Cordelia suggested grimly.
”a.s.sent, or compulsion?” Vorkosigan repeated.
”Maybe neither. She's been dealing with this sort of nonsense all her adult life... what do you expect of her? She survived three years of marriage with Serg, before Ezar sheltered her. She must be a bona fide expert in guessing what not to say and when not to say it.”
”But to publicly submit to Vordarian--if she thinks he's responsible for Gregor's death...”
”Yes, what does she believe? If she truly thinks her son is dead--even if she doesn't believe you killed him--then all she has left to look out for is her own survival. Why risk that survival for some dramatic futility, if it won't help Gregor? What does she owe you, owe us, after all? We've all failed her, as far as she knows.”
Vorkosigan winced.
Cordelia went on, ”Vordarian's been controlling her access to information, surely. She may even be convinced he's winning. She's a survivor; she's survived Serg and Ezar, so far. Maybe she means to survive you and Vordarian both. Maybe the only revenge she thinks she'll ever get is to live long enough to spit on all your graves.”
One of the staff officers muttered, ”But she's Vor. She should have defied him.”
Cordelia favored him with a glittery grin. ”Oh, but you never know what any Barrayaran woman thinks by what she says in front of Barrayaran men. Honesty is not exactly rewarded, you know.”
The staffer gave her an unsettled look. Drou smiled sourly. Vorkosigan blew out his breath. Koudelka blinked.
”So, Vordarian gets tired of waiting and appoints himself Regent,” Vortala murmured.
”And Prime Minister,” Vorkosigan pointed out in return.
”Indeed, he swells.”
”Why not go straight for the Imperium?” asked the staff officer.
”Testing the waters,” said Kanzian.
”It's coming, later in the script,” opined Vortala.
”Or maybe sooner, if we force his hand a bit,” suggested Kanzian. ”The last and fatal step. We must consider how to rattle him just a little more.”
”Not much longer,” Vorkosigan said firmly.
The ghostly mask of Kareen's face hung before Cordelia's mind's eye all that day, and returned at her waking the next morning. What did Kareen think? What did Kareen feel, for that matter? Perhaps she was as numb as the evidence suggested. Perhaps she was biding her time. Perhaps she was all for Vordarian. If I knew what she believed, I'd know what she was doing. If I knew what she was doing, I'd know what she believed.
Too many unknowns in this equation. If I were Kareen... Was this a valid a.n.a.logy? Could Cordelia reason from herself to another? Could anyone? They had likenesses, Kareen and herself, both women, near in age, mothers of endangered sons... . Cordelia took Gregor's shoe from her meager pile of mountain souvenirs, and turned it in her hand. Mama grabbed me back, but my shoe came off in her hand. I should have fastened it tighter... . Maybe she should trust her own judgment. Maybe she knew exactly what Kareen was thinking.
When the comconsole chimed, close to the time of yesterday's call, Cordelia shot to answer it. A new broadcast from the capital, new evidence, something to break that circle of unreason? But the face that materialized over the vidplate was not Koudelka, but a stranger with Intelligence insignia on his collar.
”Lady Vorkosigan?” he began deferentially.
”Yes?”
”I'm Major Sircoj, duty--officer at the main portal. It's my job to screen everyone new reporting in, men who've left traitor-units and so on, and to collect any new intelligence they've brought with them. We had a man turn up half an hour ago who says he escaped the capital, who refuses to voluntarily debrief. We've confirmed his claim that he's had anti-nterrogation conditioning--if we try to fast-penta him, it'll kill him. He keeps asking--actually, insisting--to speak with you. He could be an a.s.sa.s.sin.”