Captain Vorpatril's Alliance

“Sir?” said Tej, staring up in palpable confusion.

  “Does your husband beat you?”

  “No!”

  “Do you beat him?”

  “No!” said Ivan. “Good grief, sir!”

  “Does he insult you?”

  “Certainly not!” Their voices overlapped on that one.

  “Does Ivan restrict your mobility, your choices, your access to your family or friends?”

  “He got me a groundcar permit, I have more choices than I know what to do with, and my family”—Tej bit her lip—“is out of reach for other reasons. Sir.”

  “Ah. Yes,” said Falco. “Pardon an old Barrayaran’s clumsiness.”

  “Sir.” Tej, startled and clearly moved by this apology, returned an uncertain nod. “There’s Rish. She’s the closest thing to family I have left. She lives with us.”

  “So, we must cross off abuse, as well. What about denial of marital rights?”

  “Sir?” said Tej. “What does that mean, in Barrayaran?”

  Falco smiled. “When was the last time you had sex?” he clarified.

  “Oh! This morning, sir.” Tej thought for a moment, then volunteered, “It was really good.”

  Two snickers sounded from the back of the room. Ivan did not deign to turn his head.

  “And congratulations, Ivan,” Falco murmured under his breath.

  You wily old bastard, why are you yanking us around like this? Ivan thought, but did not dare say it aloud.

  “And so, what are we down to, here,” said Falco. “Hm, hm. Denial of children?”

  Tej looked taken aback. “We’ve never discussed it.”

  “It’s only a temporary marriage, sir,” Ivan said. “Children would be, er, rather permanent.”

  “So we all hope and pray,” said Falco.

  Tej twisted a strand of her hair in doubt. “Though I suppose if Ivan Xav wanted an egg donation, something could be arranged. My mother sold eggs, when she and my father were first married. To raise venture capital.”

  Ivan rather thought all of the Barrayarans in the room blinked at this, even the ones behind him. He would not look around.

  Falco recovered his balance and continued, “So, that one does not hold up, either. I’m afraid we’re reaching the bottom of my legal barrel here, Captain and Lady Vorpatril. Do either of you have anything else to offer?”

  “But,” said Tej, in a confused voice, “it was the deal!”

  “Yeah, there you go, sir!” said Ivan. “Breach-of-promise. That’s some kind of illegal, isn’t it?”

  Falco’s bushy white eyebrows climbed. “Breach-of-promise, Ivan, is where an expectation of marriage is denied, not where an expectation of divorce is denied. Also, the complainant has to show palpable harm.” He looked them both over and just shook his head.

  The clerk passed Falco a swiftly scribbled note. He squinted, read it, and nodded. “Do either of you make any financial claims upon the other?”

  “No,” said Tej, and “No,” said Ivan.

  “Now, that is interesting. And nearly unique, if I may say so.” Falco sat back, sighing. At length, his tapping fingers stilled. He drew a breath. “It is the ruling of this Count’s Court that the respondents, Lord Ivan Xav Vorpatril and Lady Akuti Tejaswini Jyoti ghem Estif Arqua Vorpatril, have no grounds for the dissolution of their respective, freely spoken marital oaths. Your petition is denied. Case closed.”

  The clerk reached over and banged the spear butt in its rest with two loud, echoing clacks.

  Tej’s mouth had fallen open. Ivan was so stunned he could scarcely suck in air to sputter. “But, but, but . . . you can’t do that, sir!”

  “Of course I can,” said Falco serenely. “That’s what I come here every session to do, in case you missed the turn, Ivan. Sit, listen to people, form and deliver judgments.” His smile stretched, endlessly it seemed. “I do this quite a lot, you know,” Falco confided to Tej. “Sometimes I begin to imagine I’ve heard it all, yet every once in a while there’s still some new surprise. Human beings are so endlessly variable.”

  “But didn’t you say you’d talked to my mother?” said Ivan desperately.

  “Oh, yes. At great length.” Falco leaned forward for the last time, his expression chilling down, and for a moment Ivan was conscious that he stood not before an elderly relative, but a count of Barrayar. “These are some words not from your mother. Do not ever again attempt to play fast and loose with solemn oaths in any jurisdiction of mine, Captain and Lady Vorpatril. If you should in the future acquire grounds for your petition, you may again bring it, but my court—which is very busy, I must point out, and has no time for frivolous suits—will not hear you again on the same matter in less than one-half year.”

  “But,” moaned Ivan, still in shock. Even he wasn’t sure but what.

  Falco made a finger-flicking gesture. “Out, Ivan. Good day, Lady Tej. Countess Vorpatril hopes to see you both at Vorpatril House in the near future.”

  Count Falco jerked his head at the sergeant-at-arms, who came forward and grasped Ivan by the sleeve, towing him gently but inexorably toward the door. Tej followed, bewilderment in every line of her body. A mob of people waiting to enter shouldered impatiently past them as they cleared the doorframe and stood, directionless, in the corridor, and the sergeant-at-arms turned his attention to herding the newcomers toward their respective benches. The door closed on the babble, although it opened again in a moment to emit the lawyer, papers and files stacked in her arms.

  She twisted around her stack and reached into her case to extract a card, which she handed to Ivan. “My number, Captain.”

  Ivan took it in numb fingers. “Is this . . . if we want legal advice?”

  “No, love. It’s for if you ever want a date.” She trod away up the hall, laughing. By the time she reached the far end of the corridor, the echoes had died, but then she glanced back and her un-lawyerly giggles burst forth once more as she turned down the stairwell.

  Holding onto each other like two people drowning, Ivan and Tej staggered out of the archaic building and into watery early-winter sunlight. Apparently, still married.

  At least I was right about one thing, Ivan thought. It did only take ten minutes.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tej paced up and down Ivan Xav’s living room. Ivan Xav sat with a drink in his hands, occasionally putting it down in favor of holding his head, instead. Rish perched on the couch with her feet drawn up, listening to their tale; at first with gratifying disbelief, then with increasing and much less gratifying impatience, which was now edging into exasperation.

  “I still can’t believe that one old man, who wasn’t even there, could cancel out my deal like that!” fumed Tej. “I thought this was supposed to be all fixed up in advance!”

  “It was, it seems—but not by me,” said Ivan Xav, sounding morose. “That was my first mistake, going to someone who knows Mamere. We should have taken this to some judge who didn’t know me from a hole in the ground, let alone since childhood. Total strangers wouldn’t have known what the hell was going on, and might have let us just slide on through.”

  “So what do you have to do?” said Rish. “To provide these grounds they want.”

  Ivan Xav shook his head. “Divorce turns out to be a lot of work. Way more than I thought.”

  “There has to be something. Let’s go down your list again,” said Rish in an annoyingly reasonable tone, squaring her shoulders. “Mutation. Couldn’t one of you pretend to be a mutant? Well, not Tej, I suppose. But the captain here is just a natural conception—a body-birth, if you can believe it! Run him through an exhaustive enough gene scan, something would be bound to turn up that you could pretend to object to.”

  “No!” said Ivan Xav, incensed. “Besides, it would go down on the court’s public record. Think what it would do to my reputation! Dear God, I’d never get laid on this planet again.”

  Rish tilted her head in concession. “All right, so what about this adultery thing? Which I gather isn
’t about being a grownup, something we could probably use around here, but about sleeping with someone when you’re married to someone else. Sounds easy enough. Pleasurable, even.”

  “Who with, for pity’s sake?” said Tej. “The only other male I even know very well on this benighted world is Byerly.”

  Ivan Xav set down his drink with a thunk that sloshed it over the edge of the glass. “You are not sleeping with Byerly.”

  “Who else have I even met here? Well, there’s The Coz and The Gregor, I suppose, but be reasonable. Anyway, they’re both taken.” Tej added after a moment, “And Simon Illyan was very nice, too, but no. Just no. Just . . . no.”

  “No,” said Ivan Xav. “So many kinds of no, I can’t even count the ways.”

  “That’s what I just said.” Tej eyed him in speculation. “I don’t suppose you could sleep with Byerly . . . ?”

  “Only if I can watch,” murmured Rish.

  “No!” said Ivan Xav. “Nobody is sleeping with Byerly, all right?”

  Frostily, Rish cleared her throat.

  Ivan Xav waved his arms. “You know what I mean. Neither Tej nor I are sleeping with Byerly. Separately or together.”

  “A foursome, now there’s a thought,” purred Rish. “You know, I bet we could persuade By to—”

  “Stop teasing poor Ivan Xav, Rish,” said Tej. He was getting an alarming flush. “If you can’t say something to the point, just give over.”

  Rish looked at Ivan Xav. “Don’t you have any old girlfriends you could call on for a favor?”

  “Sure, but they’re mostly married now. Even Dono, and Olivia would—never mind. Jealous husbands . . . spouses . . . I figured I was done dealing with that kind of excitement in my life. It’s just no fun anymore, y’know? Hasn’t been for a while.”

  Both women stared at him in bemused silence; after a moment, he stirred uncomfortably and took another swallow of his wine.

  Rish sat back. “What else was there? Oh yes, abuse.”

  “I am not beating Tej.” Ivan Xav glowered at Rish. “You, I’m less and less sure about.”

  Rish snickered. “You couldn’t lay a hand on me if you tried, natural-boy.”

  Ivan Xav sighed, avoiding conceding the point. “Besides, it’d get me in so much trouble with so many people—after Mamere, Uncle Aral, and Aunt Cordelia—and Simon—there’d be Miles and Ekaterin and all the Koudelka girls lining up to deal with the remains—and their mother—and Gregor, and Desplains—God, there wouldn’t be enough left of me to carry to court in a bucket. Hell, a teacup.” Ivan Xav sat back in what, had he been of another gender, Tej would not have hesitated to describe as a flounce. A little too large and surly for the term, here.

  Rish turned her head toward Tej. “That leaves it up to you.”

  “But I don’t want to hit Ivan Xav! I want to kiss Ivan Xav.”

  “Try it,” urged Rish. “Just for the experiment.” Her gold eyes glinted.

  Reluctantly, at Rish’s gesture, Ivan Xav put down his drink and stood up. Tej bunched her hand, drew it back, and poked him in the solar plexus. Her fist made a little fump sound, bouncing off his heavy uniform jacket.

  Ivan Xav just stared glumly at her. “What was that supposed to be . . . ?”

  “It’s really hard,” Tej protested. “When you don’t want to. Besides, it would hurt my hand.”

  “Bloody Falco,” muttered Ivan Xav, sitting back down and retrieving his drink, which he drained.

  Rish ran her hands through her hair in a ragged swipe. “Look. Think. You’re both making this too hard by trying to do the divorce thing first. It’s not necessary. Desertion, wasn’t that one of the grounds? Tej and I go off to Escobar, change our identities, disappear, you’ve got your desertion right there. Tootle back to court on your own, get it done. You don’t have to drag us into it at all.”

  “There are time limits about that sort of thing,” said Ivan Xav. “Three or four years, or was it seven? Or was that for declaring someone dead . . . ?” He frowned in doubt.

  “What does that mean?” asked Tej. “In Barrayaran.”

  “It means that even though you were gone, I’d still be married to you. For several more years. I couldn’t, say, remarry in that time. Or even become betrothed, I suppose.”

  “Oh,” said Tej. “That’s right, this place only lets people have one spouse at a time, doesn’t it? That wouldn’t be a good problem to dump on you, would it? You might meet someone you liked . . .” A strangely unheartening picture. Didn’t she want him to be happy?

  Ivan Xav, on the other hand, sat up, brightening a trifle. “That actually could be more of a feature than a bug, come to think. My mother couldn’t very well lean on me to seriously court other women if I was already married, huh? Yeah, that docking slot would be all filled up.” His brow wrinkled. “Not sure what it would do to my hit rate, though . . .”

  “In that case,” said Rish, rolling to her feet, “I hereby declare this a nonemergency, and would appreciate it if you two would clear my bedroom. Some of us want to sleep.”

  Ivan Xav appeared to give this serious consideration. “Yeah, Miles goes all frantic and forward-momentum-y when he hits a snag in his plans, but I usually prefer to give it a bit of time. Maybe there’ll be a better idea come along, or the problem will change, or, if you wait long enough, even go away on its own, without having to do anything. If people don’t keep poking at it, that is.”

  “Time would certainly do the trick, sure,” said Rish cordially. “I figure it would only take, oh, you’re a natural—maybe sixty more years? Unless you die sooner in a groundcar crash, that is.”

  Ivan Xav said, in a faraway voice, “Yeah, that would be the line of least resistance, now, wouldn’t it . . . ?”

  Rish shook her head. “Go to bed. Screw what’s left of your brains out, deal with it again in the morning. Or some other time when I don’t have to listen to you two.” She departed to collect her bedding from the linen closet in the dressing room.

  Ivan Xav stood up and took Tej’s hand, warm in his warmer one. “Best advice she’s offered all night. Let’s just . . . give it a rest. Maybe something else will come up.”

  * * *

  As the week wore on, Ivan contemplated the merits of inertia as a problem-solving technique with growing favor. Desplains kept him only normally occupied during his workdays, there being no real crises at Ops this week, and Ivan being quite unmoved by now by all the synthetic ones, although he did garner some enjoyment selecting snarky return memos. In the mornings, Tej continued her language studies, or games, as she seemed to insist on thinking of them, alternated with afternoon visits along with Rish to Ma Kosti. Even better, they brought back culinary homework. Ivan surreptitiously let his uniform belt out one notch.

  Byerly continued to carry off Rish most evenings, a public service to which Ivan could muster no objection. The Creatures of the Night, as he began to think of them, returned at varied hours. He didn’t mind it if Rish came in quietly, although he was less fond of stumbling over Byerly at breakfast.

  As Ivan was scarfing down his morning groats standing, prior to toddling off to Ops HQ, Byerly, en déshabillé in shirtsleeves but slightly less bleary than usual, sipped his tea and remarked, “Interesting chit-chat last night about you and Tej. From Jon Vorkeres, of all people. Countess Vorbretten’s little brother, y’know.”

  Ivan frowned, glad he’d left Tej sleeping. She didn’t need to hear anything poisonous. “What was he doing in one of your venues?”

  “Hey, not all of my venues are a hazard to the morality of our Vor youth. Else I should have gently steered him out. Jon says that gossip among certain of the more fossilized high Vor dames in town is that your surprise marriage is a disaster for Lady Alys, for all that she feigns otherwise. That Tej’s haut genes and connections would render any progeny you two might pop utterly disqualified for the Imperial camp stool, should, God forbid, anything untoward happen to Gregor et al. And, presumably, you disqualified along with them, unle
ss you could be persuaded to some second marital attempt, I suppose.”

  Ivan choked on his groats. “Seriously?”

  “Very seriously. Count René Vorbretten is keeping his jaw clamped shut on the discussion, naturally.” Byerly eyed him sidelong.

  Ivan’s brows climbed as the full import of this slowly sank in. “Huh. That’s an advantage that hadn’t crossed my mind, but you’re right!” The corners of his mouth tugged up. “Me and my children, ducking right out of the Vorbarr Sultana political crossfire—oh, superb. Have to point that out to Mamere, next time I see her. It would cheer her up no end.”

  Byerly took a delicate sip, and inquired, “What children?”

  Ivan reddened. “Uh . . .”

  Byerly patted his lips—curving in the most maddening way—with his napkin, but did not pursue the point.

  It was only as he was entering Ops that it occurred to Ivan that Byerly had been watching his reaction for more reasons than just sly personal amusement. No, dammit, I have never wanted Gregor’s job! He almost turned around right there and then to go find By and a body of water to hold his head under till he stopped thinking like that.

  Frigging ImpWeasel.

  * * *

  “I bought these bells for my ankles,” said Tej to Rish, holding them up and shaking them. They made a cheery chime—tuned to chords, not just randomly dissonant. “If we pushed the furniture back, there’d be room for a real dance practice. I could take Jet’s part. Keep the beat for you.”

  Rish wheeled, sizing up Ivan Xav’s living room. “I suppose we could try. I have an hour or so till By comes to get me.”

  They skinned into their knits and collaborated on shoving sofas and chairs around, clearing a nice, wide space on the carpet. An afternoon without Ma Kosti was an afternoon when boredom and brooding loomed, but Tej had thought ahead, this time. As they began their bends and stretches, Tej asked as-if-casually, “So. By, again. What do you and he do every night, anyway?”

  Rish’s lips twitched. “Really, Tej, you had the same erotic arts tutors that I did. Use your imagination.”

  “I mean besides that.” Tej tossed her head impatiently, then had to blow stray hair out of her mouth. “What does he talk about? I mean, when he’s not just camouflaging?”