veryvorkosigan | Winterfair

Duo's boots add an inch or two, but yeah. He's used to it. "You bet! Uh, how much of an audience are we gonna have right away, and how much do they know?"

"Just the family and some household staff, for now," she says cheerfully, "and they know you're a friend I've invited along. Miles probably suspects from where; he's known about Milliways for some time."

"Okay," he says, taking an exaggeratedly deep breath. "I'm ready. Bring 'em on."

"You'll do fine," Cordelia reassures him, as they head for the hall and the stairway beyond.

The great entry hall of Vorkosigan House is floored in an elaborate mosaic of plants and flowers rendered in colored stone, startlingly fine-detailed. Like a cluster of larger flowers in their richly hued formal wear, the rest of the Vorkosigan party -- Count, Countess, and Armsmen -- stands at the bottom of the sweeping stairway, waiting for the Dowager Countess and her guest.

Apparently everybody's been briefed on what to expect. The Count's reaction as they come into view is limited to a millimeter's worth of raised eyebrow, and the Countess only smiles.

"Captain Duo Maxwell," Cordelia says by way of introduction, as they near the bottom of the stairs, "my son and daughter-in-law, Count Miles and Countess Ekaterin Vorkosigan."

Count Miles may be something of a startlement to Duo; he's just under five feet tall, with a slightly oversized head that would look more proportionate on a man over six feet. His face is faintly lined, somehow without looking in any way old -- especially in light of his smile. "A pleasure to meet you, Captain. Any friend of my mother's is welcome here."

"Thank you very much for your hospitality," Duo says, bowing lightly to them both, after releasing Cordelia's arm. His usual accent has vanished and been replaced with something much smoother.

His bright grin, however, remains the same. "Your home is beautiful!"

Miles looks decidedly pleased by that. "Thank you, Captain. It's been in my family a long time. Although some of the best parts --" he gives Ekaterin's arm a little squeeze; she looks down at him with amused affection -- "are more recent additions. Much like the family itself."

"Ekaterin designed the floor mosaic," Cordelia explains to Duo as the party starts heading for the doors.

"No kidding?" Duo says, accent slipping a bit as a pleased note enters his voice. "I'm used to deck plating, I hadn't considered using a floor as a canvas for art."

"I'm afraid I'm an uncultured boor," he says sadly to Cordelia. "Though I did warn you."

She chuckles. "Anything can be a canvas for art, really -- though Barrayarans use some pretty unexpected things. Hair as a base for flower arrangements, I'll tell you, we never thought of that one on Beta Colony."

The party appears to be dividing into two cars; the Count and Countess and two of the brown-liveried Armsmen in the first, and Cordelia and Duo in the second. (Along with an Armsman, but he takes his seat in front with the driver.)

Duo manages to be only slightly twitchy because he isn't in the driver's seat.

Heh. If Relena could see him now.

He spends most of the trip staring out at the city in fascination. A city on another planet. In another system entirely. They've barely started on Mars.

It's an old city, quite visibly so: archaic-looking stone buildings (like the one they've just left) cheek by jowl with much more modern-looking complexes and high-rises, the streets clean and brightly lit but clearly designed for foot and horse-drawn traffic rather than the much faster aircars.

Cordelia points out a few items of interest: a medical complex ("very new, very well-staffed, almost up to galactic standard"), a sprawling university campus ("where Ekaterin got her advanced degree"), a few distant picturesque castles picked out in colored floodlights.

He tries not to goggle too obviously, but his enthusiasm is easily detected.

"Thanks," he says to her. "For inviting me, I mean. This is amazing."

"I'm glad you're enjoying it so far." She grins. "Any questions before we get there?"

He immediately goes blank. They had a pretty thorough briefing before they left Milliways, he's pretty sure they covered everything. From fashion to some social no-nos.

"Don't think so. Elbow me if I'm using the wrong fork or something?"

"You bet." Amused. "Remember, you're an offworlder; nobody expects you to have all the local traditions down pat."

"Well, no. I am pretty good at following the lead of everyone around me to blend in. But just in case."

He fiddles with one of his jacket cuffs.

"Just in case," she promises.

The vast stone pile of the Imperial Residence is looming up ahead of them, with more colored lights accenting architectural details here and there; before too long (albeit after a decidedly professional security scan), they're disembarking and being escorted in from the chilly night.

Security is thorough but polite, courteously asking if Duo minds having his knife peace-bonded. They're used to weapons around here, Duo sees plenty of swords hanging from belts.

They assure him the spray they use won't have any negative effect on the finish of his knife or sheath, and they can apply the solvent on their way out.

Good enough for him, he doesn't expect to need to use it. And if he does, he can get creative.

"That's a fairly recent addition," Cordelia murmurs for his hearing only as they regroup with Miles and Ekaterin in the vestibule. "Much more diplomatic than requiring non-Vor visitors to turn over their weapons."

The Vorkosigan party is ushered into a long reception hall, lined with mirrors on one side and tall windows on the other. A multicolored array of House uniforms and formal gowns makes the floor look like another resplendent garden-mosaic -- this one in motion.

A major-domo announces the four members of their party, by name and title, in an amplified voice.

"Here goes nothing," Duo says, flashing that same wide grin once more.

"Looks like your Emperor really knows how to throw a party."

Or a few dozen people who work for him, anyway.

"I'll tell Alys you said so," she murmurs, through a bright social smile, as the two of them sweep in behind the Count and Countess. "She's bound to be here somewhere. -- Lady Alys Vorpatril," she adds by way of explanation. "Official social secretary of the Imperial Residence, and one of the sharpest social-technical experts I've ever come across."

"So, does the 'Vor' prefix-thingy have a meaning? Or is it just traditional?" He copies her smile (though with a few more teeth in it), peering around them at the other guests. Some of whom peer back, equally curious.

"The linguistic origin's been lost," Cordelia says with mild regret. "Though there's some speculation, of course. In Old Earth Russian, dvor means 'court'; that's considered by many to be the likeliest origin." With a tinge of wicked amusement, she adds "Of course, in the same language, the syllable vor by itself means 'thief,' so take that as you will."

Duo smirks. "Nothing wrong with a thief or two."

...or a couple hundred, considering their surroundings.

She grins back. "In terms of what it means culturally, rather than linguistically, it was and is a military caste that turned into an effective aristocracy. If you're interested in the history, there's a fellow I could introduce you to ..."

They've drifted away from Miles and Ekaterin by this time, and further into the room; the buffet table is invitingly nearby.

Ivan is at the buffet table putting together two plates and mentally going through what he knows Tej likes and what she needs to try, when he spots them.

The Dowager Countess is hard to miss, but he doesn't know the man, young man, with her and stabs himself with a cocktail fork, the two swords of his dress uniform clinking against the table, "Aunt Cordelia, good evening."

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