Epilogue

Eventually even the diplomats were exhausted. Aided by frame connec tions more deals had been done than Miles could shake a stick at, and on a hundred worlds ambassadors were being chosen while not one protest had been filed. In effect the Nexus had watched the Jacksonians' fall, considered imperial statements, and seen that it was good. On Aralyar Ceta proper administration was being established; joint engineering teams and a Cetagan dan architectural task-force were already planning demolitions and buildings. Some capital ships had departed for other duties, but with the emperors present substantial forces remained; tomorrow they too would go, and Miles had guests to return to their points of origin—as well as two babies, almost ready to leave their replicators, awaiting him and Ekaterin with Nikki in Vorbarr Sultana.

Tonight, however, he had one last matter to attend to and the inner most circle could close. Plans were carefully laid. Elli and his Dendarii guests had with Nicol accepted invitations from Dag Benin to a farewell party, which they understood Miles refusing, especially when he pleaded unspecified imperial business. Which I have, sort of. Dono and Olivia Vorrutyer, bless them, were looking after Lem and Harra Csurik. ImpSec was on a date with Shuang-Mei, though Miles doubted his ideas of the mechanics of feline hybridisation were the same as Pel's. Certain social diaries had been quietly kept clear beyond a given time, and as Gregor's final reception for Counts and observers ebbed Ekaterin rounded up Alys and Simon for him while he gently steered his parents into one of the private reception rooms concealed in the extra volume of the Lady Alys Vorpatril, and sat them down. Leaving Ekaterin to keep them penned he collected Mark and Kareen to add to the fold, and caught Gregor's eye, receiving a nod. Mark peered at him suspiciously.

"What is this about, brother? You are looking … very you-ish."

"This is the end of it." He slowed as they passed a quiet corner. "One thing first. I'm assuming, Mark, Kareen knows whatever she has to know about you. Yes?"

"Yes." Mark's voice was guarded, as well it might be. Kareen looked concern at them both. "Why do you ask?"

"Because the fate of Ry Ryoval is going to be germane."

"Oh. Yes, I told her about … the end of that."

"Good. All it is, Kareen, is that this is a family meeting, and that's now you. But we're doing a history final, and I wouldn't want to spring on you news that Vorkosigans are killers. Even Ma, you realise, and certainly the sons of my father."

Kareen swallowed. "I know Mark killed Ryoval bare-handed. Like your Da did that political officer at Komarr."

"Bare-footed, really," Mark murmured. "It wasn't pretty."

"You had no choice, love."

"No. Not if I would live."

"The how doesn't matter. Only the fact, and some aftermath." Miles smiled gravely. "I didn't want to cause a complication. I want to close something down. Come on."

He ushered them into the reception room and took his own seat as they found places. From a curving sofa his parents and aunt considered him apprehensively, Illyan in perfect harmony. After looking carefully at Mark and Kareen, then Ekaterin, his mother finally turned to him.

"Well, dear, here we all are. And you are looking … I don't quite know what, but I am reminded of something …"

"A day late and a dollar short, perhaps?" Aral had a rueful air. "I feel it too, dear Captain. It hasn't quite unfolded yet, though what more there can be at this stage I shudder to think."

"Actually, we're not all here yet." Miles looked around. "This is family, and we're two down. But there's one thing we can deal with now, and must. Da, there is an old, no longer quite so secret secret to do with Escobar that by my reckoning is known for certain to two people here, and has been guessed by six more. Of the missing two one guessed, and told the other, so it's time to lance the boil."

Aral's face was frozen but his eyes were hot and twisted around the room, locking on Alys and Illyan. "You both understand this?" His voice was harsh. "How?"

"Negri's files." Illyan's voice was flat. "He knew about the plasma mirrors. I put it together in the end with what I'd seen."

"Simon told me, after Ekaterin made us think." Alys spoke with her usual force, directly to Aral. "But in my heart I knew when I first saw you after Escobar, before Cordelia came. I could not then read your wound, but its existence was plain."

Aral's head swung round. "You understand, Ekaterin?"

"Yes. Your pain was reflected in Miles."

As the hot eyes returned to him Miles rose and went to his Da, and took his hands. "Da, Gregor knows. You know he found out about Serg's horrors. He worked the rest out after the Hegen Hub." The grip on his hands was crushing, the gaze scorching. "You have spent thirty years terrified your true son would find out, and he has spent a decade terrified his true father would find out he'd already found out." Despite painful hands and roiling stomach Miles gave his Da a sad smile. "It worked for a bit but it can't go on. The only thing that matters is for you to know his knowing has only increased his love and sense of your honour." His Da's grip was still painful but he sensed his Ma's concern lessen with a perception he couldn't fathom. "I swear on Gran'da's grave all is well, Da. Only two of us do not know, and must. Will you tell them?"

"They must?" Aral's voice was low.

"Yes. Once into the light. Once only, but once."

"Very well." Miles felt his hands released and went back to his seat, reaching for Ekaterin's hand, as his Da reached for his Ma's and Alys for Simon's. Aral took a deep breath, face white. "Kareen, my dear, it seems I must tell you and Mark my deepest shame. You know I am a soldier. Mark knows I am a killer. What neither of you knows, and I had hoped no-one but Cordelia ever would, is that I was the instrument whereby Emperor Ezar contrived to assassinate Crown Prince Serg. He made me create the need for a Regency and clear my own way to Gregor—not that I saw it then—before forcing me down the path I'd made. It was his final guarantee I would never take the throne myself, as making me kill Yuri with my own hands was the first."

Kareen was frozen, but Mark opened his mouth, closed it with a snap, and whistled, eyes whirling with calculation.

"Hoo. My congratulations, sir. Ser Galen never got a whiff of that one but from what I know it must have been a doozy of a plot. An … orrery, all lining up." Miles and Cordelia both stared at him, then each other. "What? Sorry, am I being too Jacksonian? I've never heard a word from anyone about Serg, but Gregor plainly hates his memory so it sounds like a good thing you did, Da."

Cordelia's smile was a strange mix of austere and wondering. "It's not that so much, Mark dear, as your orrery. I though of Ezar's plot exactly that way thirty–three years ago, when I first worked it out. And from Miles's look …?"

"Yes, two years ago." I wonder what Pel would make of that? "An orrery of betrayal within betrayal, all perfectly lining up for one shot. The necessary over everything else. Do you see, though, both of you, what that necessity meant to Da?"

Mark considered, but Kareen nodded at once. "Yes." She turned to Aral. "It must have been awful for you, sir. But why did Emperor Ezar want to kill his own son? The books all say he's a hero, but no-one who knew him ever says anything."

"He was a a sexual sadist, dear, a human monster in a small and vicious way." Cordelia's voice was firm. "As emperor that would have become a large and vicious way. I only saw him once, very briefly, but I met one of his friends, and just about the only thing I never doubted in all this wretched Barrayaran mess is that taking out Serg was one long step towards sanity, and replacing him with Aral a longer one. Ezar was a devil, but he wasn't a fool. Serg was both."

Kareen's mouth was an O but Mark was nodding briskly; so were Alys and Simon. Kareen looked at them, and Alys met her gaze.

"Yes, dear, I agree with every word. Serg was monstrous and grossly unfit to rule. It could have been the Bloody Centuries all over again."

"Would have been." Illyan's voice was still flat. "I am yet oath-bound to Ezar, but believe me, you want no detail. I was never told at the time, but knowing what I now know I would have approved."

"So," Mark's voice was careful, "everyone thinks it a good thing, even you, Da, but having to do it was a … problem, no, a gall for your honour. A poison in memory. Is that right?" Aral nodded slowly, and Mark went on. "Much begins to come clear. Miles, you said this was all for Da, and you meant it, didn't you? Let me see," Mark counted on his fingers in a way so like Miles he smiled despite himself, "renaming is to cancel Sergyar, extravagant bloodlessness answers the use at Escobar of corpses as cover, there's new technology in both that must line up somehow, and … there's something else, which must be what now is about."

Miles grinned and clapped softly. "Four out of four, brother. This time technology reduces casualties, not increases them. The Alliance scoops up stuff from Gran'da and Komarr, too." Everyone was staring at him except Ekaterin and his Ma, who looked at him as they usually did. He hunched slightly. "What?"

"I don't think we'd seen it quite so clearly, Miles dear." Alys's stare became thoughtful. "It does beg questions."

"One or two." Illyan's eyes narrowed, his voice no longer flat. "I had resigned myself, Miles, to your Auditorship giving you access to every file in the imperium and realised long ago restricting your security clear ance was in any case fruitless. But you didn't put this together since you found Jack Chandler, or he you, nor since you've had your seal."

"True, Simon. I stole most of your codes long ago."

"How? I was damned careful you couldn't see my keyboard over the rim of my desk and you made a point of looking away."

Miles grinned at his old chief. "Of course I did. It was what you wanted. And from my height your hands were reflected in the glass of Gregor's official portrait on the sidewall."

Illyan looked satisfyingly chagrined, and as Miles hoped his Da gave a laugh—a brief Heh but a laugh all the same. Miles turned to him.

"And I remember, sir, the ones you were using when you had me on your knee." This produced a faint smile. "Though actually—"

He was interrupted by a soft knock and swiftly rose, seeing his Da's face tense again. Do this quickly, Gregor. When he opened the door on a set-faced Gregor and nervous-looking Laisa, Gerard and several ImpSec guards forming a perimeter, he received a sharp look of enquiry and nodded, flicking his eyes. Taking the hint and leaving him to see Laisa in, Gregor slipped past and by the time he had shut the door and turned had reached Aral. Not waiting for him to rise, with a fluid movement that hinted at Fletchir Giaja's influence, Gregor stooped to embrace his foster-father, whose hands slowly came around him, then tightened.

"Thank you, Miles." Laisa's voice was a whisper. "Is your Da …?"

"All shall be well." He saw her to a seat and busied himself for a moment pouring two glasses of water while Ekaterin watched him with what he thought was a suppressed smile. He put the glasses on the table nearest his Da and Gregor, and sat, taking Ekaterin's hand. Mark and Kareen, like Alys and Simon, were tactfully absorbed in one another, but his Ma, after a long exchange of looks with Laisa turned to look at him. He met her gaze, and after a moment she surprised him considerably by suddenly smiling and giving him a discreet thumbs-up. Then her gaze returned to his Da and Gregor, who eventually let one another go.

"I'm sorry, boy. I hoped to spare you this knowledge."

"Be sorry for nothing." Gregor took one glass to hand to Aral, who muttered thanks, the other for himself. Taking a place beside Laisa he drank deeply and visibly composed himself, as Aral was doing with Cordelia's hand on his shoulder. Miles gave both a moment and began the last story, as it had been the first.

"Just before you came in, Gregor, Laisa, I was confessing that before I had an Auditor's seal I gleaned data by using security codes I, um, liberated from Simon and Da. But I was about to say that after a while I realised I was looking in the wrong place and had made a serious mis take." He sat back, settling in, and saw others curve into their seats, becoming intent. "You could say I learned my first real lesson about intelligence work by getting Sergeant Bothari killed. That story doesn't matter now, but afterwards, while I understood exactly why neither of you"—he nodded to his Ma and Da—"ever told me about Elena's mother, I also knew I could have put it together if I'd tried, and if I had he'd be alive today. So when you did tell me the bones, I thought I'd better put it together properly for myself—only the more I tried, the more I realised there were bits missing around Escobar that no code I had was helping me find. The shape of it was wrong somehow, but I couldn't tell how. And that's where I made the mistake. Can you see it, Simon?"

"I'm not sure, Miles. Maybe"—his fingers drummed once in an achingly familiar gesture—"you thought you were looking for something we weren't telling you, when actually it was something we didn't know."

"Yes." Miles smiled ruefully. "It took me six years to see that, as well as your requirement to beef up Dendarii Fleet Intelligence."

"Ah." Illyan was nodding. "Yes, that was a piece of advice you did take to heart, I remember. And I suspected after a while there was a fair amount of data in Dendarii files that wasn't making it to ImpSec."

"A lot of it's trash but yes, some. I passed on anything with opera tional bearing, and gave the Joint Fleet a lot of data for this show." His Da nodded, having been surprised by just how much detail of Jacksonian activity and organisation he'd been able to provide to the planners. "I had the Dendarii doing deep research with higher priority since 2796 and '97. Those were key years because holes in briefing files dropped us right in it—on Jackson's Whole, then Dagoola. After that every Dendarii had orders to pass on everything they and theirs knew and learned about the barons and the ghem, and I had a lot of people on it. They knew we'd left both the Cetagandans and Ryoval foaming and coming after us, so they put their backs into it." He drank some water. "Then Mark came into our lives."

He put down his glass, grinning at his brother. "These events, you can imagine, made me wonder what else I didn't know because we didn't know. I started suspecting my mistake too, but couldn't confirm it until four years ago, when Mark did the Nexus great service by killing Ryoval. That and his Deal with Baron Fell shook Jackson's Whole hard, and things fell out—among them a bunch of Ryoval's more independent creatures Fell thought he'd locked down in his takeover." This was new to everyone and Miles saw Illyan's and his parents' eyes sharpen; so did Gregor's and Laisa's. "They got some financial codes and one of Fell's couriers and ran all the way to Pol, where they had the misfortune to decide they'd smuggle themselves through Komarr with the Dendarii, not understanding quite how large a database on Ryoval I had." He grimaced. "Of course I wasn't being much use just then, but besides shortening poor old Vorberg I did manage a little Deal of my own with Fell."

"On what terms?" Mark was frowning, as was Illyan, but Miles had long looked forward to this moment.

"The codes they'd stolen were worth about thirty million Betan. You said Fell shortchanged you in your Deal by eight million, so I sent him back twenty-two with the thieves, his ship, and a note thanking him for the residue of your payment and requesting a copy of Ryoval's files, minus references to himself, for the decade before 2774. Which he promptly sent. And before you ask"—he slipped a hand into his pocket—"here's the bank disk. Seven million Betan, plus four years' interest at Escobaran standard rates. I gave the other million to the Dendarii medical fund. Happy wedding."

Mark's and Kareen's faces were a delight to behold, and his mother's attention had as a good Betan been riveted by a piece of plastic worth seven-and-whatever million dollars in real money, and more than twenty-five million Imperial marks. Nor was anyone immune except Gregor and Laisa, both suppressing smiles. Illyan had always been prone to croggle ment at large sums in private hands, despite years of handling massive budgets, but even Ekaterin was giving him a look suggesting he'd better have a good explanation as to why, and how, he'd managed to keep this from her for so long. It had not been easy, but it had been well worth it. Mark turned the disk in his hand so it caught the light.

"How unexpected. You are making it exceptionally difficult not to be pleased with you, brother. But this surprising largesse is incidental, no? I thought so. Let me then use it to solve another problem and interest ingly complicate while simplifying both our lives." He turned. "Gregor, do I owe any tax on this?"

Gregor stopped trying to suppress his smile. "Legally I haven't the faintest idea, Mark, so I declare you don't. My treasury's doing well enough these days."

"Thank you." He gave the disk to Kareen, who took it with a frown. "Love, as the District is receiving its own largesse, and the company is in excellent health, would you please take that, which will be worth about eight-and-a-half million Betan by now, and split it six ways between yourself, your sisters, your Ma, and Ekaterin, in your personal names. Your Da's too stiff-necked to take money from me directly, but your Ma will if everyone's getting the same. Ease all round. It should come to about five million marks each."

Ekaterin and Kareen had gone white but Cordelia and Alys were applauding silently and grinning as broadly as Gregor and Laisa. Miles thought it was time to move on, and couldn't resist anyway.

"Good, that's settled." Ignoring glares from his wife and sister-to-be he settled again. "So there I was with a nice new database to look at—terabytes of it. And the only clue I had, Da, was that it had to be some thing you didn't know about. That made Komarr very unlikely, and seemed to rule out Escobar. But between the two, after that idiot trial in 2769, Ezar stashed you in your service leper colony. And by the time you found out about Escobar, which you told me once was when you came off patrol three months after Mid summer 2771, it was rolling. So, where did it come from?"

Aral frowned, as did Illyan. "I never knew for sure but always suppos ed Grishnov, with pliant military support from Ges Vorrutyer. Simon?"

"Grishnov, yes." Illyan shrugged. "Probably. Smash-and-grab was his style whenever he could afford it. But I think Miles has other ideas."

"Ma, you and the Survey found Sergyar through a long jump-route via Antares, didn't you? A route now broken?"

"That's right, dear. Early in '72."

"And we found it through Komarr, of course, which means after '68. So the exploration vessel had to find Sergyar, then its Escobaran worm hole, word had to get to Grishnov through the Political Officer, and he had to have his bright idea, then get Serg and Ges Vorrutyer in on it, followed surprisingly rapidly by the rest of the old War Party. The credibility rather depends when exactly that wormhole was reported—and that is on file. Six weeks after Midsummer 2771."

"What?" Illyan's brows beetled. "That's hellish tight timing, Miles."

"Isn't it just? Almost too tight. The report was from the General Lutrow, lost at Escobar, making it hard to check. And as you may recall, its Political Officer was Grishnov's nephew. So I had my doubts, and when I got Ryoval's files I started in on 2770–71. Guess what I found?" He had no takers. "Simon, do you recall a junior Vormon crief, an ImpSec analyst of Negri's? You got rid of him fast."

"Vaguely. He'd been bought by someone. He gambled."

"He did and had. He had a month's leave after Komarr in '68, spent on Escobar, but wound up passing through Jackson's Whole, where he lost a sum larger than he could ever pay. Guess who to?" This time he needed no takers, though Illyan was frowning.

"I don't recall that from his file. Is it there?"

"No, it was faked at the Escobaran end. But it was in Ryoval's file with 'vids and detail. So there was interesting datum number two— in 2770–1 Ryoval had an agent in ImpSec handling galactic signals. But the real gem was something else and I could have kicked myself. In all seriousness, I'm not sure how Negri missed it." He turned to Gregor. "This is it, brother. I have to go there now."

Gregor nodded silently, and moved one hand slightly.

"Tell me, Simon, what was Serg's position like in 2770? Domestically, I mean, after Komarr. Did he know Ezar was moving against him?"

Illyan went still for a moment, thinking, then frowned. "I'm not sure, Miles. I was very junior. But I'd have to think so. Even when Aral was forced into political eclipse after Komarr the War Party had been dealt a heavy blow and knew it. I've always thought Grishnov leaped at Escobar because he was desperate, and I know it puzzled Negri that he was so dismissive of military risks. Coming up he was known for habitual caution as well as sporadic brutality that became frequent with achieved rank. So I'd guess Serg's political protection thinned then, by comparison with the years before Komarr when Grishnov was first riding high. And that's when Serg started trying to assassinate Ezar."

Gregor's lips were compressed, Kareen's again forming an O.

"Yes, I noticed that. Serg's tastes were full-blown by then, and grat ifying them on Barrayar became harder. Hence interesting datum number three—Grishnov's cover-up strategy for Serg, which was burying female bodies amid political ones, stopped working. And yes, I think that's exactly where Ezar got the idea for Escobar."

Gregor's voice was sharp. "Serg turned to Ryoval?"

"Yes. Where but Jackson's Whole do you go to procure partners to torture and kill? Two long visits in the summers of '70 and '71, when he supposedly went to one of the Vorbarra estates with some play mates. The ImpSec minders with him were all Grishnov's people, save one."

"How many girls?" The hand holding Laisa's was white.

"Five dead, a lot of injured. Ryoval was delighted, and had images. I've destroyed the copies, and under Auditorial seal strictly quarantined all client data seized this week from Houses Fell and Bharaputra which should include anything else."

His Da grunted understanding. "I wondered about that. I thought it might be Dendarii stuff, but I'll take care of it." Miles smiled thanks.

"Save one." Illyan's fingers drummed. "Which would be Vormoncrief?"

"It would. A report for reconditioning. Serg left the week before Midsummer. Vormoncrief went with him. And I think the General Lutrow had already reported the wormhole, because a day before Serg arrived Ryoval was planning to extort money from him, but a day after he was making arrangements to be generous instead. Mark, you've researched Escobaran biotech for your Durona investments. How was it in 2770?"

"Riding high. The invasion attempt knocked them back badly."

"Yes. And Barrayaran victory would have been worse still. So the final datum is that about a week after Serg arrived on Jackson's Whole he went back to Barrayar for three days. The communication he must have carried to Grishnov was not on file, nor a reply, but the earliest reference by Grishnov to the invasion I've found is dated less than a week after Serg's visit." He took one more breath, looking round nine intent faces. "I can't prove it, but I knew it, and acted accordingly. The orders for Escobar came from Ryoval, backed by a threat to expose Serg. Then Ezar took advantage. So Mark took care of more than he knew when he killed Ryoval, and more fittingly. I've added the Bharaputras, on Taura's and Ekaterin's accounts, but really I've just been tidying up, and I hope I've been neat because there was one more thing in Ryoval's files. Or rather one more enormous file, on the haut."

He looked curiously at his Da and Gregor. "The ghem-faces on Pel's bubbles were Star Crèche agents who tried for Ryoval or his father and died on Jackson's Whole, or Imperial Guardsmen who met the same fate. If you know I don't imagine you can say much, but have either of you heard anything to suggest Ryoval père was a renegade haut?"

Gregor shook his head, but his Da nodded. "Yes." He gave a ghostly grin. "In my private audience with Fletchir, after the speeches, he told me a bit about it. Not who the father was, nor why he ran, but he avoided detection by having his brain transplanted to a human body on Jackson's Whole. They found him through Ryoval, who became obsessed with reclaiming haut heritage and used something he found on file after killing his father to breach Cetagandan security. They tried for him repeatedly, without luck."

"I thought it must be something like that. And it means, Mark, your deed as much as Chandler's invention made all this possible. They won't want fuss, but I think you should come to the premiere of Nicol's ballet next year. You might get your own Order of Merit or something."

His Da nodded with a funny smile that eased Miles. "Something, yes. I spoke, Mark, partly because Fletchir did ask me to convey thanks to you and I've been wondering how. Let time pass and he will welcome you."

"MPVK can become the first truly inter-imperial company." Miles grinned as Ekaterin batted at him. "Dag said Maple Ambrosia would sell like fury among the ghem, and you'll soon have radiophagic glorious bugs to offer as well. And geneered olive trees, and whatever Enrique dreams up next to realise with ghem assistance." He gave a truly unholy smile. "If Aunt Alys agrees, perhaps you can find it in your heart to offer Ivan a job in your Eta Cetan branch, should he turn out to need one."

Illyan snorted laughter, but Alys looked thoughtful.

"I'll bear it in mind, brother." Mark's voice was breathy. "Damn it, you meant it about being square, didn't you? So Cetagandans are just like Barrayarans, in the end. Style is good, but kill someone theatrically and you really get their attention. Huh."

There was a silence broken in the end by Cordelia.

"I confess I hadn't thought of it quite like that, Mark dear, but you have a point. On the other hand, Miles has upped the stakes to not killing someone theatrically, which I think we must admit as progress."

The silence returned until Gregor spoke. "So is that truly it now, Miles? Through Serg Ryoval procured Grishnov to attack Escobar, his intent being to impede a challenge to his business on Jackson's Whole?"

"And own a Barrayaran emperor who would be a very good customer."

"Yes." Gregor shuddered. "Then Ezar took advantage, Aral took care of Serg, Negri's mobs took care of Grishnov, Mark took care of Ryoval, and you've taken care of Jackson's Whole."

Miles considered briefly. "Yes, that covers it."

"Nonsense." Ekaterin's voice was a breath in his ear audible to all. She laughed. "It covers it, Gregor, only by excluding everything that looks forward—greatly improved security, life expectancy, and convenience for pretty much everyone in the Nexus, a solid peace which will be one of the glories of your reign rather than an uneasy cessation of war, and a whole series of personal medical treatments that ensure your and Laisa's children, and ours, and Mark's and Kareen's, will grow up to know their Gran'da and Taura and the Csuriks' youngest." She laughed with the gurgle he loved richly present in her voice. "Just like the Vor lord who jumped on his horse—Fat Ninny, of course—and rode off in all directions. One came full circle." Miles felt a soft kiss on his head, and smiled at his family. "All the others are still moving forwards."

END