Free Shards of Honor (Vorkosigan Saga) by Lois McMaster Bujold Page B

followed by the most honestly delighted laugh she felt she'd heard in centuries. She leaned against a tree, suddenly weak. And just when was it that you stopped being afraid of him, and started being afraid for him? And why is this new fear so much more gut-wrenching than the first? You don't seem to have come out ahead on the trade, have you?
    "You can come out now, Commander Naismith," Vorkosigan's voice carried back to her. She rounded the last stand of underbrush and climbed a grassy knoll. Camped upon it were two young men looking very neat and military in their clean fatigues. One, taller than Vorkosigan by a head, with a boy's face on a man's body, she recognized from her view through the scope as Koudelka. He was shaking his captain's hand with unabashed enthusiasm, assuring himself of its unghostly reality. The other man's hand went to his disruptor when he saw her uniform.
    "We were told the Betans killed you, sir," he said suspiciously.
    "Yes, it's a rumor I've had difficulty living down," said Vorkosigan. "As you can see, it's not true."
    "Your funeral was splendid," said Koudelka. "You should have been there."
    "Next time, perhaps." Vorkosigan grinned.
    "Oh. You know I didn't mean it that way, sir. Lieutenant Radnov made the best speech."
    "I'm sure. He'd probably been working on it for months."
    Koudelka, a little quicker on the uptake than his companion, said "Oh." His fellow merely looked puzzled.
    Vorkosigan went on, "Permit me to introduce Commander Cordelia Naismith, of the Betan Astronomical Survey. She is . . ." He paused, and Cordelia waited interestedly to hear what status she was to be assigned. "Ah . . ."
    "Sounds like?" she murmured helpfully.
    Vorkosigan closed his lips firmly, pressing a smile out straight. "My prisoner," he chose finally. "On parole. Except for access to classified areas, she is to be extended every courtesy."
    The two young men looked impressed, and wildly curious. "She's armed," Koudelka's companion pointed out.
    "And a good thing, too." Vorkosigan did not enlarge on this, but went on to more urgent affairs. "Who is in the landing party?"
    Koudelka rattled off a list of names, his memory jogged occasionally by his cohort.
    "All right," Vorkosigan sighed. "Radnov, Darobey, Sens, and Tafas are to be disarmed, as quietly and cleanly as possible, and placed under arrest on a charge of mutiny. There will be some others later. I don't want any communication with the General Vorkraft until they're under lock and key. Do you know where Lieutenant Buffa is?"
    "In the caverns. Sir?" Koudelka was starting to look a little miserable, as he began to deduce what was happening.
    "Yes?"
    "Are you sure about Tafas?"
    "Nearly." Vorkosigan gentled his voice. "They'll be tried. That's the purpose of a trial, to separate the guilty from the innocent."
    "Yes, sir." Koudelka accepted this limited guarantee for the welfare of a man Cordelia guessed must be his friend with a little bow of his head.
    "Do you begin to see why I said the statistics about civil war conceal the most reality?" said Vorkosigan.
    "Yes, sir." Koudelka met his eye squarely, and Vorkosigan nodded, sure of his man.
    "All right. You two come with me."
    They started off, Vorkosigan taking her arm again and scarcely limping, neatly concealing how much weight he was putting on her. They followed another path through the woodlands, up and down uneven ground, coming out within sight of the camouflaged door to the cache caverns.
    The waterfall that spun down beside it ended in a little pool, spilling over into a pretty stream which ran off into the woods. A strange group was assembled beside it. Cordelia could not at first make out what they were doing. Two Barrayarans stood watching while two more knelt by the water. As they approached the two kneelers stood, hauling a dripping, tan-clad figure, hands tied behind his back, from a prone position to his feet. He coughed, struggling for breath in sobbing gasps.
    "It's Dubauer!" cried