Jin had given up on that last when Aunt Lorna had insisted that he get rid of all of his pets, yes, all, a clean sweep, there was no room and they smelled and pooped too much and that bird was homicidal and to top everything, Ken was supposedly allergic to Lucky, who was too lazy to scratch anyone.  Jin just figured his cousin was doing all that sniffling and blowing on purpose, to be annoying, in which he certainly succeeded.  Jin had forgotten the first part of that maternal parting . . . blessing, curse, whatever it was, because, after all, nobody yelled at Mina the way they'd yelled at him and his pets.

He wished he hadn't remembered that.

They had a good long walk ahead of them just to get out of this area, which they needed to do before they were missed.  Maybe they'd better lie up and hide during school hours.  Jin selected a direction he was almost sure was south, and kept trudging.

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Two days after his dawn return to the consulate, Miles's party assembled on the front walk and watched the WhiteChrys groundcar pulled up to collect them.  It was long, sleek, gleaming, and settled to the pavement with a sigh like a satisfied lover.

Roic's eyebrows rose.  "Better t'n that bus-thing they ferried us conference delegates around in, I'll give it that."

"Indeed," said Miles.  "Good job, Vorlynkin.  It looks like WhiteChrys means to grovel in style."

This won an uncertain head-duck from the consul, who had spent a good part of yesterday in repeated calls to and from their would-be host to set all this up, while Miles played hard-to-get.  At least the delay had given him time to recover from the induced seizure.

But while it would do no harm to Miles's cause if Barrayar's own diplomat plainly found him alarming, he was not altogether sure if the man was under control.  Or sure whose control he's under?  He favored the consul with a brief smile.  "By the by, Vorlynkin, please refrain from commenting on anything you hear me say or see me do today.  For the duration, you're the yes-man."

An unreadable pause.  "Yes, my Lord Auditor."

Capable of irony, was he?  Good.  Probably.

"It'll be just like watching a play," Roic reassured him.  Vorlynkin's brows quirked, albeit not in an especially reassured way.  Dr. Durona, engaged in examining the variegated hostas lining the walk, straightened and turned his braided head with interest as the groundcar's rear compartment canopy rose and a woman exited.