Miles stared. "Vorkosigan House. You just rang me here."

"I know that!" said Illyan irritably. "Why weren't you here, at 0900 as ordered?"

"Excuse me. What orders?"

"My orders. 'Be there at 0900 sharp and bring your notepad. You'll like this one. It's a breakout.' I thought you'd be early."

Miles recognized the style of an Illyanesque verbatim self-quote, all right. The content rang a very faint bell. It was an alarm bell. "What's this all about?"

"Something my Cetagandan analysts have cooked up, and spent a week pitching to me. It could be a very high-result, low-cost bit of tactical judo. There's a gentleman by the name of Colonel Tremont whom they think may be the best man to give the fading Marilacan resistance a shot in the arm. There's just one little hitch. He's presently a guest in the Cetagandan prison camp on Dagoola IV. The experience should have given him lots of motivation, if he can be freed. Anonymously, of course. I plan to give you considerable discretion as to the method, but those are the results I want: a new leader for Marilac, and no connection with Barrayar."

Miles didn't merely recognize the mission, he could swear those had been the exact words that Illyan had first used to describe it. At a highly secret morning conference at ImpSec HQ, long ago . . .

"Simon. The Dagoola mission was completed five years back. The Marilacans threw the last of the Cetagandans off their planet last year. You fired me over a month ago. I don't work for you anymore."

"Have you lost your mind?" Illyan demanded, and stopped abruptly. They stared at one another.

Illyan's face changed. Froze. "Excuse me," he muttered, and cut the com.

Miles just sat, staring at the empty vid plate. He'd never before felt his heart pound like this while sitting perfectly still in an empty room. Galeni's report had worried him.

Now he was terrified.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Miles sat unmoving for ten minutes. Galeni had been right. Hell, Galeni hadn't guessed the half of it. Illyan wasn't just forgetting things that were there, he was remembering things that weren't. Flashbacks?

Hey, if the man can't tell what year it is, I see a way you could get your old job back. . . .

It wasn't very funny.

What to do? Miles was surely the one person on Barrayar who dared not say a word in criticism of Illyan. It would be attributed instantly to a post-termination snit, or worse, attempted vengeance.

But he could not ignore the situation, not knowing what he knew now. Orders flowed from Illyan's office, and people obeyed them. Trustingly. Thirty years of accumulated trust was a bank it would take time to break. How much damage could Illyan do in the meantime? Now, of all times? Suppose Illyan flashed back to some of the messier moments of the Komarr Revolt?