[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
hand signal stopped a guard from shoving her back into position. The shock on
Vordarian's face gave way to a wolfish grin. "My God, did it work! Excellent!"
Kareen, hovering behind him, stared at Cordelia in bewildered astonishment.
MY trap worked, Cordelia thought, stunned with her opportunity. Watch me.
...
"That's the thing, my lord," said the liveried man, not at all happily.
"It didn't work. We didn't pick this party up at the outer perimeter of the
Residence and clear their way, they just bloody turned up-without triggering
anything. That shouldn't have happened. If I hadn't come along looking for
Roget, we might not have spotted 'em."
Vordarian shrugged, too delighted by the magnitude of his prey to issue some
trifling censure. "Fast-penta that frill," he pointed at Droushnakovi, "and I
imagine you'll find out how. She used to work in Residence Security."
Droushnakovi glowered over her shoulder at Princess Kareen in hurt accusation;
Kareen unconsciously pulled her robe up more closely about her neck, her dark
eyes full of equally hurt question.
"Well," said Vordarian, still smiling at Cordelia, "is my Lord Vorkosigan so
thin of troops he sends his wife to do their work? We cannot lose." He smiled
at his guards, who smiled back.
Damn, I wish I'd shot this lout in his sleep. "What have you done with my son,
Vordarian?"
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Vordarian said through his teeth, "An outworlder frill will never gain power
on Barrayar by scheming to give a mutant the Imperium. That, I
guarantee."
"Is that the official line, now? I don't want power. I just object to idiots
having power over me."
Behind Vordarian, Kareen's lips quirked sadly. Yes, listen to me, Kareen!
"Where's my son, Vordarian?" Cordelia repeated doggedly.
"He's Emperor Vidal now," Kareen remarked, her glance going back and forth
between them, "if he can keep it."
"I will," Vordarian promised. "Aral Vorkosigan has no better a blood-claim
than my own. And I will protect where Vorkosigan's party has failed. Protect
and preserve the real Barrayar." His head shifted; apparently this assertion
was directed over his shoulder to Kareen.
"We have not failed," Cordelia whispered, meeting Kareen's eyes. Now. She
lifted the shoe from the table, and stretched out her arm with it; Kareen's
eyes widened. She darted forward and grabbed it. Cordelia's hand spasmed like
a dying runner's giving up the baton in some mortal relay race. Fierce
certainty bloomed like fire in her soul. I have you now, Vordarian. The sudden
movement sent a ripple through the armed guards. Kareen examined the shoe with
passionate intensity, turning it in her hands. Vordarian's brows rose in
bafflement, then he dismissed Kareen from his attention and turned to his
liveried guard commander.
"We'll keep all three of these prisoners here in the Residence. I'll
personally attend the fast-penta interrogations. This is a spectacular
opportunity-" . Kareen's face, when she lifted it again to Cordelia, was
terrible with hope.
Yes, thought Cordelia. You were betrayed. Lied to. Your son lives; you must
move and think and feel again, no more the walking numbness of a dead spirit
beyond pain. This is no gift I've brought you. It is a curse.
"Kareen," said Cordelia softly, "where is my son?"
"The replicator is on a shelf in the oak wardrobe, in the old Emperor's
bedchamber," Kareen replied steadily, locking her eyes to Cordelia's. "Where
is mine?"
Cordelia's heart melted in gratitude for her curse, live pain. "Safe and well,
when I last saw him, as long as this pretender," she jerked her head at
Vordarian, "doesn't find out where. Gregor misses you. He sends his love." Her
words might have been spikes, pounded into Kareen's body.
That got Vordarian's attention. "Gregor is at the bottom of a lake, killed in
the flyer crash with that traitor Negri," he said roughly. "The most insidious
lie is the one you want to hear. Guard yourself, my lady Kareen. I
could not save him, but I will avenge him. I promise you that."
Uh-oh. Wait, Kareen. Cordelia bit her lip. Not here. Too dangerous. Wait your
best opportunity. Wait till the bastard's asleep, at least-but if even a
Betan hesitated to shoot her enemy sleeping, how much less a Vor? She is true
Vor. . . .
An unfriendly smile crinkled Kareen's lips. Her eyes were alight. "This has
never been immersed," she said softly.
Cordelia heard the murderous undertones ringing like a bell; Vordarian,
apparently, only heard the breathiness of some girlish grief. He glanced at
the shoe, not grasping its message, and shook his head as if to clear it of
static. "You'll bear another son someday," he promised her kindly. "Our son."
Wait, wait, wait, Cordelia screamed inside. "Never," whispered Kareen. She
stepped back beside the guard in the doorway, snatched his nerve disruptor
from his open holster, aimed it point-blank at Vordarian, and fired.
The startled guard knocked her hand up; the shot went wide, crackling into the
ceiling. Vordarian dove behind the table, the only furniture in the room,
rolling. His liveried man, in pure spinal reflex, snapped up his nerve
disruptor and fired. Kareen's face muscles locked in death-agony as the blue
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fire washed around her head; her mouth pulled open in a last soundless cry.
Wait, Cordelia's thought wailed.
Vordarian, utterly horrified, bellowed "No!", scrambled to his feet, and tore
a nerve disruptor from the hand of another guard. The liveried man, realizing
the enormity of his error, tossed his weapon away as if to divorce himself
from his action. Vordarian shot him.
The room tilted around her. Cordelia's hand locked around the hilt of the
swordstick and triggered its sheath flying into the head of one guard, then
brought the blade smartly down across Vordarian's weapon-wrist. He screamed,
and blood and the nerve disruptor flew wide. Droushnakovi was already diving
for the first discarded nerve disruptor. Bothari just took his target out with
one lethal hand-blow to the neck. Cordelia slammed the door shut against the
guards in the corridor, surging forward. A stunner charge buzzed into the
walls, then three blue bolts in rapid succession from Droushnakovi took out
the last of Vordarian's men. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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hand signal stopped a guard from shoving her back into position. The shock on
Vordarian's face gave way to a wolfish grin. "My God, did it work! Excellent!"
Kareen, hovering behind him, stared at Cordelia in bewildered astonishment.
MY trap worked, Cordelia thought, stunned with her opportunity. Watch me.
...
"That's the thing, my lord," said the liveried man, not at all happily.
"It didn't work. We didn't pick this party up at the outer perimeter of the
Residence and clear their way, they just bloody turned up-without triggering
anything. That shouldn't have happened. If I hadn't come along looking for
Roget, we might not have spotted 'em."
Vordarian shrugged, too delighted by the magnitude of his prey to issue some
trifling censure. "Fast-penta that frill," he pointed at Droushnakovi, "and I
imagine you'll find out how. She used to work in Residence Security."
Droushnakovi glowered over her shoulder at Princess Kareen in hurt accusation;
Kareen unconsciously pulled her robe up more closely about her neck, her dark
eyes full of equally hurt question.
"Well," said Vordarian, still smiling at Cordelia, "is my Lord Vorkosigan so
thin of troops he sends his wife to do their work? We cannot lose." He smiled
at his guards, who smiled back.
Damn, I wish I'd shot this lout in his sleep. "What have you done with my son,
Vordarian?"
Page 269
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Vordarian said through his teeth, "An outworlder frill will never gain power
on Barrayar by scheming to give a mutant the Imperium. That, I
guarantee."
"Is that the official line, now? I don't want power. I just object to idiots
having power over me."
Behind Vordarian, Kareen's lips quirked sadly. Yes, listen to me, Kareen!
"Where's my son, Vordarian?" Cordelia repeated doggedly.
"He's Emperor Vidal now," Kareen remarked, her glance going back and forth
between them, "if he can keep it."
"I will," Vordarian promised. "Aral Vorkosigan has no better a blood-claim
than my own. And I will protect where Vorkosigan's party has failed. Protect
and preserve the real Barrayar." His head shifted; apparently this assertion
was directed over his shoulder to Kareen.
"We have not failed," Cordelia whispered, meeting Kareen's eyes. Now. She
lifted the shoe from the table, and stretched out her arm with it; Kareen's
eyes widened. She darted forward and grabbed it. Cordelia's hand spasmed like
a dying runner's giving up the baton in some mortal relay race. Fierce
certainty bloomed like fire in her soul. I have you now, Vordarian. The sudden
movement sent a ripple through the armed guards. Kareen examined the shoe with
passionate intensity, turning it in her hands. Vordarian's brows rose in
bafflement, then he dismissed Kareen from his attention and turned to his
liveried guard commander.
"We'll keep all three of these prisoners here in the Residence. I'll
personally attend the fast-penta interrogations. This is a spectacular
opportunity-" . Kareen's face, when she lifted it again to Cordelia, was
terrible with hope.
Yes, thought Cordelia. You were betrayed. Lied to. Your son lives; you must
move and think and feel again, no more the walking numbness of a dead spirit
beyond pain. This is no gift I've brought you. It is a curse.
"Kareen," said Cordelia softly, "where is my son?"
"The replicator is on a shelf in the oak wardrobe, in the old Emperor's
bedchamber," Kareen replied steadily, locking her eyes to Cordelia's. "Where
is mine?"
Cordelia's heart melted in gratitude for her curse, live pain. "Safe and well,
when I last saw him, as long as this pretender," she jerked her head at
Vordarian, "doesn't find out where. Gregor misses you. He sends his love." Her
words might have been spikes, pounded into Kareen's body.
That got Vordarian's attention. "Gregor is at the bottom of a lake, killed in
the flyer crash with that traitor Negri," he said roughly. "The most insidious
lie is the one you want to hear. Guard yourself, my lady Kareen. I
could not save him, but I will avenge him. I promise you that."
Uh-oh. Wait, Kareen. Cordelia bit her lip. Not here. Too dangerous. Wait your
best opportunity. Wait till the bastard's asleep, at least-but if even a
Betan hesitated to shoot her enemy sleeping, how much less a Vor? She is true
Vor. . . .
An unfriendly smile crinkled Kareen's lips. Her eyes were alight. "This has
never been immersed," she said softly.
Cordelia heard the murderous undertones ringing like a bell; Vordarian,
apparently, only heard the breathiness of some girlish grief. He glanced at
the shoe, not grasping its message, and shook his head as if to clear it of
static. "You'll bear another son someday," he promised her kindly. "Our son."
Wait, wait, wait, Cordelia screamed inside. "Never," whispered Kareen. She
stepped back beside the guard in the doorway, snatched his nerve disruptor
from his open holster, aimed it point-blank at Vordarian, and fired.
The startled guard knocked her hand up; the shot went wide, crackling into the
ceiling. Vordarian dove behind the table, the only furniture in the room,
rolling. His liveried man, in pure spinal reflex, snapped up his nerve
disruptor and fired. Kareen's face muscles locked in death-agony as the blue
Page 270
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
fire washed around her head; her mouth pulled open in a last soundless cry.
Wait, Cordelia's thought wailed.
Vordarian, utterly horrified, bellowed "No!", scrambled to his feet, and tore
a nerve disruptor from the hand of another guard. The liveried man, realizing
the enormity of his error, tossed his weapon away as if to divorce himself
from his action. Vordarian shot him.
The room tilted around her. Cordelia's hand locked around the hilt of the
swordstick and triggered its sheath flying into the head of one guard, then
brought the blade smartly down across Vordarian's weapon-wrist. He screamed,
and blood and the nerve disruptor flew wide. Droushnakovi was already diving
for the first discarded nerve disruptor. Bothari just took his target out with
one lethal hand-blow to the neck. Cordelia slammed the door shut against the
guards in the corridor, surging forward. A stunner charge buzzed into the
walls, then three blue bolts in rapid succession from Droushnakovi took out
the last of Vordarian's men. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]