(Untitled)

[veryvorkosigan]

She hasn't been avoiding Milliways, exactly. Really she hasn't.

But with Aral's injury last month, she's been busier than usual. She's been handling her own work, along with as much of Aral's work as he'll let her do. Over half; and the fact that he hasn't fought harder to do more of it is truly frightening, if she lets herself think about it

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[sign_seeker]

On the screen is a round-faced man, indefinably middle-aged, with brown hair and eyes that crinkle at the corners. Cordelia knows him well -- though far better as a sixteen-year-old boy from Buckinghamshire, England, 1977.

She also knows the strange mix of cheerful friendliness over something far graver, and far older.

"Hullo, Cordelia." The last time she spoke to this Will was on Sergyar, and his accent was faintly Barrayaran in consequence. Perhaps because of that, it's the same, the rounded vowels and slightly thickened consonants, though the call is a recording from off-planet. Wherever he is -- the call doesn't say, and the pale yellow wall behind him could be inside any house on any planet -- it's not necessarily anywhere near Barrayar.

"There's something I should explain to you, I think. And now is an appropriate time for it." His voice is calm, and faintly dry; faintly professorial.

"Your husband knew me by another name, you will remember. I swore an oath, then, and the Count matched it." He's being circumspect; the Count Vorkosigan he is speaking of is not Aral. Waves are not public, but neither are they entirely safe. "But it was not only binding on the two of us, of course. An oath like that is to an entire family, and from the family, whoever speaks the words."

A faint smile, now. "Such things have power, you understand. Power beyond the laws and honor of men and women."

"It is a protection for you, in any time. We do not live simply from past to present." Grave solemnity, now, and no smile. "It will not protect you from everything. No oath is an utter shield, not even ones far stronger than this. But all the same, it binds the two of us together, and there are those who may mark it if they look closely. You cannot be controlled, not truly, not by those who stand against me, and they will have a much harder time bringing direct harm to you. But you may still be tricked; remember that, Cordelia. It is their favorite way, to get a person to put herself in harm's way of her own choice." His eyes are dark, and his true age more apparent than usual, as he says this.

"All the same, it is a shield, and it is better I think for you to know of it. I will not, under other circumstances" -- in Milliways, at age sixteen -- "although you need not guard the secret from me too closely. Paradox is nothing to fear, in this case."

Then, a quick smile, and suddenly he is only a man again, middle-aged and amiable. "Be well, Cordelia. Say hello to your husband for me."

[veryvorkosigan]

Cordelia frowns deeply as the recording ends. Her fingers tap idly at the wood of her commconsole, then reach out to the controls to play the recording back a second time.

She pauses on certain phrases, playing them back more than once. Now is an appropriate time for it ... It is a protection for you, in any time ... You cannot be controlled, not truly, not by those who stand against me ... it is a shield, and it is better I think for you to know of it. I will not, under other circumstances...

"Will Stanton," she says finally, aloud into the empty room, "that has got to be the subtlest yell for help I've ever heard."

She sits there a few minutes longer, eyeing the half-familiar face. Then in a brisk motion she shuts off the recording, gets to her feet, and heads for a particular corridor off the bedroom she shares with Aral.