And those that didn't have, didn't get, Jin supposed was the unspoken half of that lesson.  He looked at those other children, and at Miles-san, so obviously pleased and proud, and didn't doubt that Mina probably felt like crying.  His own throat was tight with envy and ridiculous anger.  It wasn't as if Miles-san had kept his family a secret on purpose, just to bait Jin so belatedly.

"I wouldn't have dared not teach them to ride," Miles-san went on.  "My grandfather's ghost would have haunted me if I hadn't, not that the old buzzard doesn't anyway.  The Vor were a military caste, back in the Time of Isolation.  Knights, of a sort—or bandits, perhaps, depending on your point of view.  Horse soldiers, in any case.  It's a tradition."  He gave that last word a peculiar emphasis, as if it tasted funny in his mouth.  "A perfectly useless skill, nowadays, but we keep it up all the same."

"Perhaps we'd better go," said Vorlynkin, and "Yeah," said Miles-san.  He pocketed his holocube carefully, like it was something special to him.  They went off through the garden toward the big garage.

Jin and Mina stared at each other.

"Well," said Mina at last.  "At least I was right about the ponies."  She blinked rapidly, and rubbed her reddened eyes.

Jin glowered down at his little stack of money, which had seemed such a big pile of possibilities just minutes ago.

"It's no good, after all," said Mina.  "Maybe it never was.  Maybe we should just go back to Aunt Lorna and Uncle Hikaru's."

Stop struggling?  "You could, maybe," Jin said bitterly.  "Not me.  No, wait, you couldn't either—you'd gab."

Mina looked indignant at this accusation.  With a Huh! she rose to go back upstairs.  At the archway into the kitchen, she flung back over her shoulder, "Two ponies have eight legs, so there!"

Jin couldn't think of a counterargument to that.

#

As Jin was fingering his nuyen and wondering if he dared help himself to a snack, the consulate clerk wandered into the kitchen to refill his mug of green tea.  He leaned against the counter and stared at Jin, who fidgeted under the cool regard.

"You're Lisa Sato's children, aren't you?  The cryo-rights activist?"

"Uh . . . yah?"  Jin wasn't sure if that was supposed to be a secret here, but Matson-san obviously already knew.

Matson-san took a sip of tea and frowned.  "Nobody's really told me anything.  But, ah . . . if you want me to call the police for you and your sister, before the Barrayarans  all get back, I could . . . ?"

Jin shot to his feet, almost knocking over his chair, and cried in horror, "No!"

Matson-san sloshed hot tea, swore, set the cup down, and wiped his scalded hand on his trousers.

"It was the police who took Mom!" said Jin.

"Call your relatives, then?"

"No!  That's even worse!"

"Er," said Matson-san.  "So you two kids are not, um, not . . . prisoners, here, are you?"