She stiffened.
“It wouldn’t by chance be the Durona Group, would it?” he went on.
Rish gasped, a glazed orange segment dropping from her hand as she stared in horror. “Did ImpSec know all the time?”
“Apparently not,” said The Gregor, looking up with a scarily keen interest.
“How did you know?” Tej demanded. It was a secret she’d almost died to protect…
“Informed guess.”
“Mark’s Durona Group?” Ivan Xav looked indignantly at Tej. “You could’ve stood to have said this earlier!”
“What do you know about them?” Rish, still tense with alarm, asked the Coz.
“Quite a lot, for my sins. They were once a division of House Fell, a group of thirty-six cloned siblings with extraordinary medical talents. Their progenitor-mother, Lily Durona, who is also on the high side of a century old, I believe, had some special relationship with old Baron Fell that I never did quite understand. In any case, my clone-brother Mark helped buy them out some years back and arranged for their removal to Escobar, a planet and polity I understand they find considerably more congenial than their House Fell techno-slavery, however much they were valued back in the Whole. Were your parents allies of old Fell, then, Lady Tej? Or of Lily Durona?”
Tej looked wildly at Rish, who opened her hands as if to throw the question back. Tej tried, “My parents were always…I believe they and Fell often found each other useful, yes. There was never a formal alliance, or any question of a merger, though.”
The Coz tapped his fingers on his chair arm, his lips pressing together for a moment. “Hm. My brother Mark is a silent investor in the Durona Group, but by no means a secret one. I believe he and his partner Kareen are on Escobar right now, in fact, busy about their affairs. Mark is quite the entrepreneur of the Vorkosigan family. Has several successful—and a couple of unsuccessful—start-ups down in our District, as well.”
“Anything worth achieving,” muttered Ivan Xav under his breath. “God, even the clone…”
“The-Count-our-father approves—the Vorkosigan’s District has lagged economically ever since the Occupation, unfortunately. And several of the later civil wars were disproportionately hard on us, as well.” He tapped some more. “But the thing is, Lady Tej, this connection of mine is also a connection of Ivan’s. If you meant to go to ground secretly with the Durona group…”
“Are you saying now we daren’t go?” asked Tej anxiously.
“No. But I am suggesting that your identities and perhaps appearances might need to be rather better laundered than you originally thought.” He glanced at Rish.
She glowered back. “You seem to know an awful lot about the Whole, for a Barrayaran.”
The Coz shrugged. “I visited it several times in my career. My earlier career, that is, before I became an Imperial Auditor. In any case, Barrayar tracks the five Great Houses that control the Whole’s jump points rather more closely than we track the general mob of Jacksonians. House Fell most of all, because of proximity. Less of Cordonah Station, as our interests don’t extend much in that direction—we have more economically efficient routes to Earth via Sergyar and Escobar. The fact that the jump point from the Whole into the Cetagandan Empire’s back door is controlled by House Prestene is, ah…a feature of some interest.”
“What earlier career?” asked Tej.
He eyed another cucumber sandwich round, popped it whole into his mouth, and chewed and swallowed before replying. “I was an ImpSec courier for a few years, before I was discharged for medical unfitness. I did a great deal of traveling throughout the Nexus.” He looked up and smiled at his wife. “Rather got it out of my system, to tell the truth.”
Lady Ekaterin’s return smile grew lopsided. “Did you indeed?”
Tej turned again to The Gregor. “But the ride, sir?”
The emperor rubbed his jaw. “I’ll drop a word in Allegre’s ear. Ivan and he can discuss the details.” He paused, looking her and Ivan Xav over thoughtfully. “Note, it could be some weeks before a place opens up. We cannot delay scheduled or emergency business for this courtesy.”
Tej nodded, trying to seem cooperative. Beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“Ivan’s perimeter has already been notified of the new threat level,” The Gregor went on.
“If…if the syndicate’s agents track us here, can your people stop them?” asked Rish.
The Gregor’s dark eyebrows flicked up. “They’re expected to be able to stop much worse.”
“If they’re not blindsided,” the Coz put in. “You need to give the poor security fellows as much of a fighting chance to protect you as you can. That means no more withholding information, eh?”
Tej nodded, her throat tight. Ivan Xav felt her hand tremble in his, and frowned at her in worry. She remembered all too clearly the death of their bodyguard on Fell Station. She’d barely known the man, and yet…Among the many, many reasons she’d never wanted power in the House, to play the game as her parents had, was that she’d never wanted her life to be bought at the price of another’s. Maybe no one was free of that, really. Or else what were police forces and armies all about, on places like Pol or Komarr? Mass protection, jointly purchased by an entire society, instead of piecemeal by those who could afford it—without even the up-front rewards that Jacksonian enforcers and security people routinely demanded, and were given, for assuming such risks.
The guard beside the door to the antechamber spoke for the first time. “It’s seventeen-thirty hours, sire.”
“Already?” The Gregor glanced at his wristcom, then looked apologetically at Tej, Rish, and Ivan. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to let you go. I still need to have a few words with my Auditor, here, before we travel our separate ways.”
Lady Ekaterin stood up smoothly. “Perhaps Tej and Rish would care to see a little more of Vorkosigan House before you take them home, Ivan. And I could show them the Barrayaran garden.”
Ivan Xav’s nod endorsed this, and they made what Tej hoped were correct formal farewells and followed their hostess out.
In the front hall, Rish’s steps slowed as she stared downward. Her hands twitched, as if she wanted to bend and touch the art underfoot. Or dance across it, pinwheeling. “Is this a recent installation?” she asked Lady Ekaterin. “It’s so beautiful. And unexpected. It looks new…?”
Lady Ekaterin smiled, obviously pleased. “When Miles and I were first married, he encouraged me to put some stamp of my own on the house—I mean, besides the Barrayaran garden. It took me a long time to decide what. Then one day my mother-in-law was telling me about some unhappy events that she always associated with the old black-and-white marble tiles that used to be here for, oh, decades, and I thought of this.” She gestured in a sweeping arc, from the lavish floor to the lush walls.
She went on, “I was born and grew up on South Continent, where such fine work in natural colored stones is very much a regional art form—the north favors wood as a medium. There was a famous stone mosaic artist whose work I’d adored for years, but could never afford. Miles flew down, quite suddenly one day, and practically kidnapped the poor woman out of her semi-retirement. I worked closely with her on all the botanical details—it took over a year to design and install, not to mention walking the Vorkosigan’s District to collect as much suitable stone as could be incorporated. It represents a mixed native Barrayaran and Old Earth ecosystem—just like some places around Vorkosigan Surleau, at the foot of the mountains.”