Jin’s timid knock had been answered by Lieutenant Johannes, who’d taken one look, cried You! and hustled them both inside, though he’d looked askance at Mina; added Wait right there, don’t move; and thumped downstairs before Jin could get three words into his much-rehearsed explanation of how the police had taken Miles-san’s money. So Jin was expecting the fierce-eyed Consul Vorlynkin, but behind him loomed the biggest Barrayaran Jin had seen yet, half a head taller than the tall consul. He wore clothes that reminded Jin of a military uniform, had short wavy brown hair and a firm square-jawed face, and looked older than Johannes but younger than the consul. Mina stared up at him with her mouth hanging open.
The big Barrayaran so filled up what had, till a moment before, seemed a wide doorway that it took a moment for Jin to notice the slim fellow with his hair in a neat dark braid who followed him, and another moment to spot Miles-san in their wake.
The little man shouldered past them all, coming face to face with Jin. He looked so different all cleaned up, more grownup, more… daunting, that it was a couple of heartbeats before Jin, recovering from his shock, inhaled and cried, “My creatures! You promised you’d look after them!”
Miles-san held up a hand. “They’re all right, Jin! When you didn’t come back by midnight, I copied out your instructions and gave them to Ako. When I implied I was going to look for you, she was very willing to help out.”
“But how did you get here?”
“Walked. Took me all that night.”
From behind Jin, Mina asked interestedly, “Did you get lost, too?”
“We weren’t lost, exactly,” Jin denied, harassed. “Just turned around a little.”
“And who are you, young lady?” Miles-san addressed Mina. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
“Sister,” muttered Jin. “It wasn’t my idea to bring her.”
“I have a name,” Mina pointed out. “It’s Mina. Want to see my blisters?”
Miles-san didn’t even blink. “Sure! Are they good ones? Have they popped yet?”
“Oh, yes—they made my socks all bloody, too.”
“Well, Miss Mina, why don’t you sit down here—” Miles-san pulled out a kitchen chair with a flourish, and half-bowed Mina into it, as if she’d been a grownup lady, “—and show me.” He added over his shoulder, “Johannes. Find something for these children to eat. Cookies. Milk. Gingerbread, whatever.”
“Are you Jin’s galactic?” Mina asked, kicking off her sport shoes and picking at her splotched socks. “He told me all about you.”
“Did he?” Miles-san knelt and helped her peel off her socks; she said ow, ow, as they parted stickily from her scabs. “My word, those are good blisters, aren’t they?” He glanced up and gave Vorlynkin-san a head-jerk that sent the consul to rummage in the other end of the kitchen.
“Aunt Lorna buys all our shoes big to grow into,” Mina explained to Miles-san. “That’s why they slip around like that.”
Lieutenant Johannes, peering doubtfully into the depths of the refrigerator, murmured, “Beer… ?”
“Do you like beer, Mina?” Miles-san asked. She shook her head, making her straight black hair swing around her chin. “Thought not, somehow. You’ll have to do better, Johannes. Aren’t all you attaché fellows supposed to be ImpSec trained? Improvise!”
Johannes muttered something through his teeth that Jin couldn’t quite make out. He then conducted a brief survey which determined that vat-octopus pizza, no onions, was universally acceptable, and trod out to order some. Vorlynkin came back with what turned out to be a first-aid kit, which he handed off to the slim man with the braid, who didn’t look Barrayaran at all, but didn’t talk like someone from Kibou, either.
Mina leaned toward Miles-san and whispered anxiously, “That big guy isn’t a policeman, is he?”
“Used to be,” Miles-san whispered back gravely, “but now he works for me. Alas, Armsman Roic had to give up all his policeman’s principles when he entered my service.”
The big man cast Mina a pious nod.
Mina settled back, looking relieved, and let the slim man, who Miles-san introduced as Raven and said was a doctor from Escobar, attend to her feet. Vorlynkin watched closely, frowning, till he seemed to be satisfied with the skills displayed, then straightened up and narrowed his eyes at Jin. The big fellow, Armsman Roic, filled two glasses with water and set them on the table; Mina seized hers and drank thirstily, and Jin followed suit more warily.
When he’d washed down the dry lump in his throat, which actually had little to do with thirst, Jin embarked once more on his interrupted explanation of what had happened to the consulate’s money. Vorlynkin winced when Jin came to the part about the drug dealers and/or smugglers, but at Miles-san’s restraining hand-gesture, the consul let Jin stumble all the way to the end before saying, “We know. We traced the packet to the police evidence rooms, and picked up your arrest report, too.”
So they did believe him. That was something, anyway.
“Yes,” said Miles-san, “and I’m sure the consul thanks you for keeping mum and preserving his reputation. Don’t you, Vorlynkin?”
Vorlynkin’s lips compressed in an expression anything but grateful, but he choked out a, “Certainly.”
Then, through what Jin reluctantly recognized as a skillful series of questions—some put to Jin though many to Mina—Miles-san drew out the story of Jin’s escape from the custody of his aunt and uncle. By the time Johannes returned, balancing a stack of pizza boxes, two liters of milk, and more beer, Jin was afraid there wasn’t much Miles-san didn’t understand about Aunt Lorna, Uncle Hikaru, and cousins Tetsu and Ken. It made Jin feel uncomfortably exposed.
Miles-san kicked a stepstool to the sink and made Jin and Mina wash their hands, following up himself as if to enforce the good example. Lieutenant Johannes watched him mount the stepstool, glanced at the impassive Roic, and bit his lip. Miles-san, the consul, Jin and Mina then sat four around the kitchen table, that being all the chairs there were; Roic and the others leaned against the counter. Setting out the boxes and a roll of disposable wipes, the lieutenant said, “I checked the comconsole. Both these kids were reported missing yesterday. Every police officer in town must be on the lookout for them.”
Consul Vorlynkin pressed a hand to the bridge of his nose.
Jin bolted upright in alarm. “You can’t turn us in!”
Miles-san waved him back down. “No one is doing anything till after we eat.” He looked over the aromatic offering. “What, no vegetables? Don’t you two need vegetables?”
“No, we don’t!” said Mina. Jin shook his head vigorously in support.
Miles-san bit into his slice. “Ah, perhaps not. This does seem very healthy. And tasty.”
Mina, at least, dove readily into the first hot food they’d had for two days. Jin, overwhelmed by the aroma, followed suit. The consulate bought good pizza, not the cheapest frozen kind that Aunt Lorna served. The consul barely sipped his beer, Miles-san had water, and big Roic, to Jin’s surprise, after first pouring out for Jin and Mina, helped himself to a small glass of milk.
All this redirection might have worked to calm Jin, except Vorlynkin, after swallowing his first bite, said, “The consulate can’t harbor runaways, Lord Vorkosigan. Their guardians must be frantic.”
“We don’t want to stay here,” said Jin. “I want to get back to my creatures!”
Miles-san waved his nibbled pizza slice in the air. “Asylum?”
“That’s not amusing even as a joke,” said Vorlynkin. “Do you have any idea of the legal complications involved in giving political asylum to minors?”