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There was no reason she would have to see him today. He sometimes came out and
sat on the wall a while and watched the crew's progress, but he never
interrupted. She wouldn't have to talk with him, not till his dinner tomorrow
night, and there would be lots of other people to talk with then. She had
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plenty of time to settle her mind again. In the meanwhile, she had a creek to
tune.
Lady Alys Vorpatril's office at the Imperial Residence, which handled all
matters of social protocol for the Emperor, had expanded of late from three
rooms to half of a third-floor wing. There Ivan found himself at the disposal
of the fleet of secretaries and assistants Lady Alys had laid on to help
handle the wedding. It had sounded a treat, to be working in an office with
dozens of women, till he'd discovered they were mostly steely-eyed middle-aged
Vor ladies who brooked even less nonsense from him than his mother did.
Fortunately, he'd only dated two of their daughters, and both those ventures
had ended without acrimony. It could have been much worse.
To Ivan's concealed dismay, Lord Dono and By Vorrutyer were in such good time
for their Imperial appointment they stopped up to see him on the way in. Lady
Alys's secretary summoned him curtly into the department's outer office, where
he found the pair refraining from sitting down and making themselves
comfortable. By was dressed in his usual taste, in a maroon suit conservative
only by town clown standards. Lord Dono wore his neat Vor-style black tunic
and trousers with gray piping and decoration, clearly mourning garb, which not
coincidentally set off his newly masculinized good looks. The middle-aged
secretary was giving him approving glances from under her eyelashes. Armsman
Szabo, in full Vorrutyer House uniform, had taken up that
I-am-furniture guard stance by the door, as if covertly declaring there were
some kinds of lines of fire it wasn't his job to be in.
No one not on staff wandered the halls of the Imperial Residence by
themselves; Dono and By had an escort, in the person of
Gregor's senior major-domo. This gentleman turned from some conversation with
the secretary as Ivan entered, and eyed him with new appraisal.
"Good morning, Ivan," said Lord Dono cordially.
"Morning, Dono, By." Ivan managed a brief, reasonably impersonal nod. "You,
ah, made it, I see."
"Yes, thank you." Dono glanced around. "Is Lady Alys here this morning?"
"Gone off to inspect florists with Colonel Vortala," said Ivan, happy to be
able to both tell the truth and avoid being drawn further into whatever
schemes Lord Dono might have.
"I must chat with her sometime soon," mused Dono.
"Mm," said Ivan. Lady Donna had not been one of Alys Vorpatril's intimates,
being half a generation younger and involved with a different social set than
the politically active crowd over which Lady Alys presided. Lady Donna had
discarded, along with her first husband, a chance to be a future Countess;
though having met that lordling, Ivan thought he could understand the
sacrifice. In any case, Ivan had not had any trouble controlling his urge to
gossip about this new twist of events with either his mother or any of the
sedate Vor matrons she employed. And fascinating as it would be to witness the
first meeting of Lady Alys with Lord Dono and all the protocol puzzles he
trailed, on the whole Ivan thought he would rather be safely out of range.
"Ready, gentlemen?" said the major-domo.
"Good luck, Dono," said Ivan, and prepared to retreat.
"Yes," said By, "good luck. I'll just stay here and chat with Ivan till you're
done, shall I?"
"My list," said the major-domo, "has all of you on it. Vorrutyer, Lord
Vorrutyer, Lord Vorpatril, Armsman Szabo."
"Oh, that's an error," said Ivan helpfully. "Only Lord Dono actually needs to
see Gregor." By nodded confirmation.
"The list," said the major-domo, "is in the Emperor's own hand. This way,
please."
The normally saturnine By swallowed a little, but they all dutifully followed
the major-domo down two floors and around the corner to the north wing and
Gregor's private office. The major-domo had not demanded Ivan vouch for Dono's
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identity, Ivan noted, by which he deduced the Residence had caught up with
events overnight. Ivan was almost disappointed. He'd so wanted to see somebody
else be as boggled as he'd been.
The major-domo touched the palm pad by the door, announced his party, and was
bid to enter. Gregor shut down his comconsole desk and looked up as they all
trod within. He rose and walked around to lean against it, cross his arms, and
eye the group. "Good morning, gentlemen. Lord Dono. Armsman."
They returned a mumble averaging out to
Good morning, Sire
, except for Dono, who stepped forward with his chin up and said in a clear
voice, "Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Sire."
"Ah," said Gregor. "Short notice. Yes." He cast an odd look at By, who blinked
demurely. "Please be seated," Gregor went on.
He gestured to the leather sofas at the end of the room, and the major-domo
hurried to pull around a couple of extra armchairs.
Gregor took his usual seat on one of the sofas, turned a little sideways, that
he might have full view of his guests' faces in the bright diffuse light from
the north-facing windows overlooking his garden.
"I should be pleased to stand, Sire," Armsman Szabo murmured suggestively, but
he was not to be permitted to hug the doorway and potential escape; Gregor
merely smiled briefly, and pointed at a chair, and Szabo perforce sat, though
on the edge.
By took a second chair and managed a good simulation of his usual cross-legged
ease. Dono sat straight, alert, knees and elbows apart, claiming a space no
one disputed; he had the second couch entirely to himself, until Gregor opened
an ironic palm, and Ivan was forced to take the place next to him. As far
toward the end as possible.
Gregor's face wasn't giving much away, except the obvious fact that the chance
of Donna/Dono taking him by surprise had passed sometime in the intervening
hours since Ivan's call. Gregor broke the ensuing silence just before Ivan
could panic and blurt something.
"So, whose idea was this?"
"Mine, Sire," Lord Dono answered steadily. "My late brother expressed himself
forcibly many times - as Szabo and others of the household can witness - that
he abhorred the idea of Richars stepping into his place as Count Vorrutyer. If [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]