Cordelia, thoroughly irritated, said, "Very well. Send the bill to my husband. Admiral Aral Vorkosigan, Vorkosigan House. While you're about it you can explain why you tried to pass off sleaze on his wife—Yeoman." This last was a guess, based on his age and walk, but she could tell from his eyes she'd struck home.

The clerk bowed profoundly. "I beg pardon, Milady. I believe I have something more suitable, if Milady will be pleased to wait."

He vanished again, and Cordelia sighed. "Buying from machines is so much easier. But at least the Appeal to the Irrelevant Authorities at Headquarters works just as well here as at home."

The next sample was a plain dark wood, with a finish like satin. The clerk handed it to her unopened, with another little bow. "You press the handle there, Milady."

It was much heavier than the first swordstick. The sheathing sprang away at velocity, landing against the wall on the other side of the room with a satisfying thunk, almost a weapon in itself. Cordelia sighted down the blade again. A strange watermark pattern down its length shifted in the light. She saluted the wall once more, and caught the clerk's eye. "Do these come out of your salary?"

"Go ahead, Milady." There was a little gleam of satisfaction in his eye. "You can't break that one."

She gave it the same test as she had the other. The tip went much further into the wood, and leaning against it with all her strength, she could barely bend it. Even so, there was more bend left in it; she could feel she was nowhere near the limit of its tensile strength. She handed it to Droushnakovi, who examined it lovingly.

"That's fine, Milady. That's worthy."

"I'm sure it will be used more as a stick than as a sword. Nevertheless . . . it should indeed be worthy. We'll take this one."

As the clerk wrapped it, Cordelia lingered over a case of enamel-decorated stunners.

"Thinking of buying one for yourself, Milady?" asked Droushnakovi.

"I . . . don't think so. Barrayar has enough soldiers, without importing them from Beta Colony. Whatever I'm here for, it isn't soldiering. See anything you want?"

Droushnakovi looked wistful, but shook her head, her hand going to her bolero. "Captain Negri's equipment is the best. Even Siegling's doesn't have anything better, just prettier."

* * *

They sat down three to dinner that night, late, Vorkosigan, Cordelia, and Lieutenant Koudelka. Vorkosigan's new personal secretary looked a little tired.

"What did you two do all day?" asked Cordelia.

"Herded men, mostly," answered Vorkosigan. "Prime Minister Vortala had a few votes that weren't as much in the bag as he claimed, and we worked them over, one or two at a time, behind closed doors. What you'll see tomorrow in the Council chambers isn't Barrayaran politics at work, just their result. Were you all right today?"