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did not see the amusement in the hooded set of his father's eyelids.
Miles ran a finger pensively around the lip of the empty wine
bottle. "Ivan has been commiserating me upon my injuries, sir." Ivan nodded confirmation.
"I see," said Count Vorkosigan dryly—and Miles felt he really did.
The coldness sublimated altogether. Count Vorkosigan sighed again,
and addressed Ivan in a tone of gentle, rhetorical complaint. "Going on fifty years of military and political service, and what am I? A
boogey-man, used to frighten boys into good behavior—like the Baba
Yaga, who only eats the bad little children." He spread his arms, and added sardonically, "Boo. Consider yourself chastized, and take yourself off. Go, boy."
"Yes, sir." Ivan saluted again, looking decidedly relieved.
"And stop saluting me," Count Vorkosigan added more sharply.
"You're not an officer yet." He seemed to notice Ivan's uniform for the first time. "As a matter of fact—"
"Yes, sir. No, sir." Ivan began to salute again, stopped himself, looked confused, and fled. Count Vorkosigan's lips twitched.
And I never thought I'd be grateful to Ivan, Miles mused. "You were saying, sir?" he prompted.
It took Count Vorkosigan a moment to collect his thoughts after
the diversion provided by his young relative. He opened again, more quietly. "Why was Elena crying, son? You weren't, ah, harassing her, were you?"
"No, sir. I know what it looked like, but it wasn't. I'll give you my word, if you like."
"Not necessary." Count Vorkosigan pulled up a chair. "I trust you were not emulating that idiot Ivan. But, ah—your mother's Betan
sexual philosophy has its place—on Beta Colony. Perhaps here too,
someday. But I should like to emphasize that Elena Bothari is not a suitable test case."
"Why not?" said Miles suddenly. Count Vorkosigan raised his eyebrows. "I mean," Miles explained quickly, "why should she be so—
so constrained? She gets duenna'd to death. She could be anything.
She's bright, and she's, she's good-looking, and she could break me in half—why shouldn't she get a better education, for instance? The
Sergeant isn't planning any higher education for her at all. Everything he's saved is for dowry. And he never lets her go anyplace. She'd get more out of travel—hell, she'd appreciate it a thousand times more
than any other girl I know." He paused, a little breathless.
Count Vorkosigan pursed his lips, and ran his hand thoughtfully
across the chair back. "This is all very true. But Elena—means enormously more to the Sergeant than I think you are aware. She is a symbol to him, of everything he imagines . . . I'm not sure how to put this. She is an important source of order in his life. I owe it to him to
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