The consul's brows drew down as he took in Miles's appearance in turn, a very far cry from Miles's cultivated gray-eminence-look of their brief meeting last week.  Although the ragged, stained clothing, two-day growth of face stubble, general reek, and peculiar shoes might not be the whole of why he flinched.  But, showing a keen eye that was well-placed in the diplomatic corps, he caught Miles's gaze tracking his waving mug, and added smoothly, "Do you want to come to the kitchen and sit down, my lord Auditor?  We were just having breakfast."

"Tea, yes," said Miles, relieved from his impulse to wrench the mug out of the man's hand.  Gods, yes.

Vorlynkin led through the back archway, saying, "How did you get here?"

"Walked.  Thirty-odd kilometers since midnight, back ways, dodging twice because I didn't want to explain myself in my current condition to the local street guards.  Needless to say, this was not my original plan."

The kitchen was a modest tidy room, with a round dining table squeezed into a sort of bay overlooking the walled back garden.  The windows mostly reflected the room's bright interior, but beyond, the night's damp blackness was turning to bluer shadow.  The blond kid, the attaché Johannes, turned from the microwave and almost dropped whatever prepackaged bachelor fare he'd just heated.  At his boss's head-jerk, he hastened to pull out a chair for the very important, if very unkempt, visitor.  Miles fell into it, trying not to let his gratitude overcome his exasperation, because the latter was about all that was keeping him functional.

"Can I get you something, my lord?" asked the lieutenant solicitously.

"Tea.  Also a shower, dry clothes, food, sleep, and a secured comconsole, though I'd settle for just the comconsole, but let's start with the tea."  Or else he risked pillowing his head on his arms and going for the sleep first, right here.  "Did you get my don't-panic message off to Barrayar, and my wife?  Coded, I trust?"

Vorlynkin said, a little stiffly, "We notified ImpSec Galactic Affairs on Komarr that we'd heard from you, and that you were not in the hands of the kidnappers."

"Good enough.  I'll send my own update in a bit."  Miles trusted it would overtake any word anyone had been maladroit enough to hand on to Ekaterin, or he'd have some groveling to do when he got home.  "Meanwhile, I've had no news since yesterday.  Have you heard more on the hostages taken from the cryo-conference?  Anything on Armsman Roic?"