Illyan continued in a more clipped fashion. His past two weeks of hide-and-seek with Vordarian's forces seemed to parallel Cordelia's, though in the far more complex setting of the seized capital. But Cordelia recognized the familiar terrors under his plain words. He brought his tale swiftly up to the present moment. Kanzian nodded an occasional confirmation.

"Well done, Simon," said Vorkosigan when Illyan concluded. He nodded toward Kanzian. "Extremely well done."

Illyan smiled. "Thought you'd like it, sir."

Vorkosigan turned to Kanzian. "As soon as you feel able, I would like to brief you in the tac room, sir."

"Thank you, my lord. I've been out of communications—except for Vordarian's newscasts—since I escaped Headquarters. Though there was much to be deduced from what we did see. By the way, I commend your strategy of restraint. Good so far. But you're close to its limits."

"So I've sensed, sir."

"What's Jolly Nolly doing at Jumppoint Station One?"

"Not answering his tightbeam. Last week his understaffers were offering an amazing array of excuses, but their ingenuity finally dried up."

"Ha. I can just picture it. His colitis must be in wonderful form. I'll bet not all of those 'indisposeds' were lies. I think I should begin with a private chat with Admiral Knollys, just the two of us."

"I would appreciate that, sir."

"We will discuss the inevitabilities of time. And the defects of a potential commander who bases an entire strategy on an assassination he then does not succeed in carrying out." Kanzian frowned judgmentally. "Not well constructed, to let your whole war turn on one event. Vordarian always did have a tendency to pop off."

Cordelia, aside, caught Illyan's eye. "Simon. Did you pick up any information at all, while you were trapped in Vorbarr Sultana, about the Imperial Military Hospital? Vaagen and Henri's lab?" My baby?

Regretfully, he shook his head. "No, Milady." Illyan glanced in turn at Vorkosigan. "My lord, is it true about Captain Negri's death? We'd only had it from rumor, and Vordarian's propaganda broadcasts. Thought it might have been a lie."

"Negri is dead. Unfortunately." Vorkosigan grimaced.

Illyan sat upright in alarm. "And the Emperor, too?"

"Gregor is safe and well."

Illyan slumped again. "Thank God. Where?"

"Elsewhere," said Vorkosigan dryly.

"Oh. Quite, sir. Beg pardon."

"As soon as you've hit sickbay and the showers, Simon, I have some housecleaning chores for you," Vorkosigan continued. "I want to know just exactly how ImpSec was blindsided by Vordarian's coup. I have no wish to malign the dead—and God knows the man paid for his mistakes—but Negri's old personal system for running ImpSec, with all his little secret compartments shared only with Ezar, has to be taken completely apart. Every component, every man re-examined, before it's all put back together. That will be your first job as the new Chief of Imperial Security. Captain Illyan."

Illyan's face went from pale-tired to green-white. "Sir—you want me to step into Negri's shoes?"