Chapter
2
Ges knocked lightly at the door of his father's study.
A gruff "Come in!" beckoned him.
The
Count was sitting in a large, comfortable chair, with his feet
propped upon an ottoman. "How are you today, Sir?" Ges asked.
"Ah,
my gout's up but other than that, not too bad." This was
actually better than usual, Ges realized. He was lucky to
catch
his father in an apparently good mood. The man had seemed
lost,
ever since the Countess's unfortunate and unusual death.
The old Count had been
publicly embarrassed, of course, but not privately surprised; Ges knew
that his parents had had a
surprisingly liberal understanding about extramarital liaisons.
But
over the months since her death, his father had fallen into a deep
funk, and
except for tending to a bare minimum of District business, spent most
of his time holed up here, or in the equivalent room down in the
District.
"So.
I've barely seen you since you graduated. Are
you up
to no good, young lout of mine?" This was said with much
affection; the Count loved all five of his children and showered them
with
good-humored teasing.
"So far, Ops
isn't troubling me. I've been pondering my sister."
"I've
been thinking of her much myself. She's a headstrong
girl,
sometimes even a bit wild. Knows the value of her beauty, and
might not put it to the best uses."
These
were understandable concerns, and Ges was
encouraged by the direction his father seemed to be heading.
"Would marriage help with that? Help settle her down?"
Not
that he expected his sister to become pious and pure once she was
married -- but if she gave the right impression...
"Well,
there is never any guarantee, look what happened to your mother
and me, and the
girl is haunting me with how much she's like the Countess.
But I
should like to see her married off before I'm too old to enjoy the
wedding -- or before one of you is lighting the offering at my funeral,
for that
matter. You boys, you'll find your wives sooner or later, and
have your fun in the meantime. But she ... she's my only
daughter. And it's different with girls, one worries about
them
more. It's too expensive for a girl to have her fun, if you
know what
I mean."
Ges
nodded in agreement with all of this, though his father's
predictions of his own mortality were disturbing. But he was
not
here to argue with his father over when the man might expect to die.
His
father gave a deep sigh, and continued. "Your aunts are
pestering me
about a match for her. But there are few young men, I think,
who
could hold her without breaking her spirit. I don't want her
to marry into misery."
Ges's
heart pounded so hard he was worried his father might notice, but since
when had he been handed such an opening?
"Have you considered Aral Vorkosigan?" he asked.
There it
was, out on the table...
"In
fact, he's close to the top of the list. We Vorrutyers
have
been marrying Vorkosigans for generations, when we haven't been
marrying Vorbarras. Aral's grandmother was one of my aunts...
another aunt married Emperor Dorca. Hm. I should
say that,
perhaps, the Vorrutyer family has been supplying the Vorkosigans and
the Vorbarras with brides
for
generations. They do not offer much in return, for you boys,
though at one point I'd hoped your elder brother would marry
Aral's sister, such a nice girl she was, back before mad Yuri..." Ges's
father paused and shook his head sadly. " -- implemented that mad plan
of his. But it's good for our
family,
though perhaps we ought to
marry in not quite so frequently. Our girls bring a
certain...
spark ... but they also can bring trouble."
The
Count sighed again, and shifted his weight. "Could you
bring
me a dose of that medicine, the one in the brown bottle?" The
bottle contained a strong painkiller, so Ges now knew
what
was making the old man so garrulous tonight.
He
swallowed the proferred medicine and made a face before continuing.
"So tell me, son. You know Aral Vorkosigan better
than anyone,
having lived in his back pocket for the past three years.
What sort
of a man is he?"
The
question shook Ges out of his complacency. This seemed to
be
the best opportunity to present Aral in a good light... Aral, who'd
fought with him and fucked him just a few weeks before, who
loved
him still, he was almost sure of it. And now had disappeared
into
the off-planet military without a single word of farewell. Because
I am too painful for him.
But Ges's best, most private view of Aral wasn't meant to be
shared with others.
He
fell back on stereotypes. "Sir, Aral's honorable, he's
driven
-- he'll surpass his father in the military, I'm sure. He
drinks,
but not too much, and he doesn't do stupid things. He doesn't
chase women..." And
I'm not telling you why.
"He's good at settling conflicts, at getting people to work
together. In school, the other cadets were drawn
to him for
his character, more than for his family name, as illustrious as it may
be." Ges stopped. He didn't want to
overdo it,
and furthermore, the more he said, the worse his own pain over Aral
became.
His
father eyed him thoughtfully. "That's quite a
recommendation. You're fond of him, it seems."
"He's...
he's my best friend," Ges stammered out.
"Well,
never mind that. It's your sister we're matching up
here, not you."
Thank
god Aral taught me
how to keep my face straight when my secrets get thrown in my face.
It seemed that Ges's father knew.
He hoped that his father thought, just
like
Aral did, that marriage was a cure for certain "bad habits" one might
acquire while young. Ges was a little surprised that
his
father hadn't been pressuring him towards marriage -- but he was
correct that girls paid a higher price for their vices, so it made
sense that
his sister had greater priority in his father's plans.
"I
do have one concern," the Count said. "Aral's father,
Piotr, seems to think not very much of him."
Ges
chose his words carefully. "No disrespect meant
to you, Father, but when a man comes to think of his sons as the heir
and
the spare, and the heir is lost, the spare might take some getting used
to. And Aral and his father are not come to the end of that
issue
yet,
I think; the older son was the light of everyone's eye." A
phrase
borrowed from Aral, one of the times he'd been despondent over Piotr's
unbending criticism. "But Aral works diligently on his side of
things,
piling up
achievements for his father's approval. And... it's not like
Count
Vorkosigan has much choice, really, because Aral's the only son he has."
"Hm.
I see your point. I'd just not want the issues between
father and
son to spill over into your sister's marriage, is all."
"I
think... Sir, it's a good match. Offhand, I can't think of a
better
man for her, in fact. And it sounds like you'd have approval
from
the
distaff half of the family." This last was very important,
Ges
knew,
because marriage arrangements were women's work. And
his
father couldn't be counted on to push through a match if the
female relatives balked.
"But
given the potential unhappiness at Vorkosigan House, perhaps you could
offer
the young couple a few private rooms here, so there would be some
separation between Aral and
Piotr." So
I
can keep watching....
"Hm.
Yes, your sister's bedroom has a couple rooms adjoining
it
that would make a nice private suite for them, and maybe even their
first child or two.
And if they were to have a daughter... well,
Crown Prince Serg will need a wife someday. So I should
engage
the services of a Baba?"
Just
make sure the Baba
reveals that distant plan to Count Piotr.
"Absolutely, Sir."
Ges
had purchased his sister and Aral a set of very expensive,
fine, soft sheets; he added it to the growing pile of gifts for the
engagement party,
which also served as Ges's sister's birthday party. It was only
the second time Ges and Aral had seen each other since the Emperor's
ball,
and Ges
felt smug when he saw Aral's occasional anguished glances in his
direction. But it was not like
Ges was
unaffected; he occasionally had to fight back memories of their time
together, and just barely managed to stay focused on the party. Aral and his sister
were a bit awkward with each
other, as would be expected in any arranged match between two young
people who had been acquainted, but probably never anticipated that
their
elders would arrange for them to marry. No one but
Ges
and Aral, and possibly Count Vorrutyer, knew that the awkwardness was
potentiated by the tie between
the brothers-in-law to be.
The
room, a large parlor, was crowded with relatives and friends.
The two Counts, Vorrutyer and Vorkosigan, sat together and
sipped at the excellent wine the latter had provided for the party.
More was promised for the wedding. His sister's giggling
girlfriends brought each gift to her and Aral to unwrap, while Count
Vorrutyer's secretary made a list of each gift and its giver for the
expected thank-you notes. Ges's sister had complained to the
man in advance of this daunting task, until he reminded her that she
would be on her way to being a Countess, and what good would a petulant
Countess be? "Aral Vorkosigan deserves better," he'd said,
and that settled things. Ges supposed that his sister, in her
own strange way, intended to be a devoted wife.
The
party was marred only once, luckily late in the evening, when the
guests had had
enough Vorkosigan wine that they could laugh it off.
Aral's cousin Padma and Ges's two younger brothers Yves and
Patrice, all
decidedly wending their way through the goofy stages of boyhood,
decided
to set off firecrackers under the chairs occupied by the stodgiest
guests at the
event -- though some underdeveloped sense of self-preservation kept
them away from targeting either Count Vorrutyer or Count Vorkosigan.
Their prank caused the elderly Countess Vorhalas to faint,
luckily
not dead
away. The boys scampered out of the room with a trail of
Armsmen chasing after them. The Countess
recovered, but not so quickly as to miss getting fussed over, and the
party went on.
Towards
the end of the ceremonies, Ges's sister finally reached
his gift. "Oh, Ges, what a marvelous present!" his sister
cried out, as she shook
out one of the sheets and rubbed it across her face. She
turned
to Aral and held the sheet out to him. "Feel how soft that is!"
Aral took the sheet and touched it to his face, and nodded
stiffly.
"Only three months and we'll be able to use them, too!"
This made Aral blush furiously.
His sister
reached for Ges's face and covered it with kisses, as she'd done when
she
was younger. Ges ought to have found this arousing -- he
certainly had at one point, and that had been when he'd stepped away
from her a bit, preferring only to watch her in secret. At about
the same time, the Vorrutyer House stableboys had been replaced with
stablegirls, and she'd sulked for weeks. This was the sort
of behavior that had caused the Count their father to label her "a bit
wild."
His
sister threw the sheet so it
hung between her shoulders and
his, forming a shade between them and the other guests. She
leaned forward slightly, to give him a full view of her cleavage.
In
the background, Ges heard his father chuckle as one of his aunts said,
"Don't you remember how they used to play 'tent city' with old sheets
when they were little?" as his sister gave Ges a smile
that
communicated one thing: I
know you've been watching me.
And this smile did arouse him, as it was clearly meant to. But
his sister simply pulled
the sheet away from them and handed it off to a servant, and moved on
to
the next present as if nothing had happened.
He thought about
his birthday gift for her, carefully wrapped and
waiting
for her on her vanity, with a little card labeled Personal to
warn others away. It was not suitable for public viewing
--
a package containing a few toys and potions, and a little book
of instructions for their use, purchased from an exclusive and
well-hidden local boutique. Some of the items were quite
deliberately selected as Aral's known favorites. Ges now had
no
doubt that his sister
would know exactly how to use this gift, both for herself and for Aral.
If he had his brand of depravity, he thought, she more than
matched it
with
her own.
Several days
later, Ges joined Aral at an
exclusive
restaurant,
one of
the few of its kind that was well off the usual Vorish circuit.
There had been a last-minute crisis at Ops, and traffic from there to
the restaurant had been horrible because of an accident on the Star
Bridge.
When Ges arrived, he was further surprised to be escorted to
a
private room. Aral looked up and commented, mildly, "You're
late." He must have seen Ges wince, because he stood and clapped
Ges's shoulder, chuckling, "It's OK. If this wedding has you in
half the panic it has me, you've earned an excused tardy."
Once the waiter took their drink order and left, Aral stood up and
pulled Ges into a hard
embrace. No kisses, but everything in the
gesture conveyed
the
same wants. Ges found himself matching Aral in his own way,
or
perhaps surpassing it, by slipping his hands down Aral's back and
pulling Aral's
hips towards his. By Aral's raised eyebrows, followed by a
tender
sigh, Ges knew he'd conveyed his own message in return.
After
a long interval during which they stood completely still, arms
wrapped around each other and seemingly poised on the edge of action,
they sat again. Ges wanted the mystery solved.
Is
he breaking things off with my sister? Is he not breaking
things
off with her but finding a way to have us both? Is he going
to
tell me to make up some reason to miss the wedding, so I won't distract
him?
Aral tented his hands and
watched silently, until Ges ran out of patience. "So
what's this all about, and how
the
hell can you afford this on an Ensign's pay?"
"It
has to do with the wedding; my father's picking up the check."
There was something in Aral's tone that said don't
press me on this.
Aral
remained evasive, saying little more throughout dinner; they
chatted companionably about their respective Ensignly duties.
When
dessert arrived at last, Aral asked the waiter to leave them be for a
while. Ges was in the middle of a bite of cream cake when
Aral
spoke again. "I would like you to be my Second at the
wedding."
Ges
spluttered, spraying bits of pastry and cream over the table.
Aral gave him a saturnine look as he expressed further
astonishment. "What? You want me to... what?
It's ...
obscene. Twisted."
"Some
would say that about the fact that you've sent me your sister in the
first place.
After all that you and I had with each other..."
OK.
He knows
I'm the baba. But what does he want, really?
"I would
disagree," Aral continued. "I think it would be
a
highly symbolic gesture, though the symbolism is known only to us.
A very final way of severing the ... less acceptable things
between us."
I'll
let you believe
that. But we are not done with one another, not anywhere
close.
After the dinner, Ges
went to
visit his sister in her rooms, just to give her the news and say
goodnight. She was
in her dressing gown, though her hair was still done up from her
evening out, bent over her
writing desk with a stack of flimsies. A maid, the new
one sent from Vorkosigan House, sat nearby, as did the
Count's secretary. Ges scanned the room and was relieved that his
private
gift to her was missing from her vanity; he hadn't really considered
the fact that a young woman of his sister's social stature would
forever be surrounded by maids and older ladies playing the duenna,
especially now that she was engaged to the Emperor's grand-nephew.
"Shit!" she exclaimed, as her pen wobbled on the flimsy and
snapped. "I hate this!" Ges grinned at her as she realized
that he was there, and that he'd heard her swearing.
"Thank you notes?" he asked.
"Yes," she replied petulantly. The secretary raised an eyebrow at
her, and she made a concilatory gesture to him, before announcing,
"Haverman,
Miss Elisa, maybe this is a good time to take a break; I'd like to
speak privately with
my brother."
After they'd left, his sister turned the key in the lock. "There,
we'll be undisturbed for a bit. I'm so happy you came!"
"Well, then, I have good news for you. Aral has asked me to be
his Second at the wedding."
"Maybe he wants to thank you for picking him a good wife," his sister
said. But perhaps she caught a little of his uneasiness, as she
asked, "You did say yes, I hope?"
"Oh, of course. You are two of my favorite people. Anything
I can do for you..."
"Ges, even leaving those naughty presents for me?"-- she giggled -- "I don't understand why you think
we'll need them."
"Aral's going to be a very loyal husband, I can tell you. And
he'll expect you to be a loyal wife. So, you'll want a little
variety, don't you think? A nice massage with some good oil, a
tickle with a feather..."
"Oh, you're wicked!" she exclaimed. "But won't he be suspicious
of me, just for knowing about those things?"
"If he is, you can just tell him one of your lady friends suggested
it. Preferably someone with a few more years as a married woman,
maybe Lady Vorpinski?" This was one of his sister's best friends,
a lively young woman whose husband, in male company, had professed her
to be astonishingly creative in bed.
"Oh, you're right! Clara would talk to me about it...
in fact she already has!" Ges's sister blushed, with a sort of
pretend vulnerability. Ges thought, for a moment, of how the
social codes of the Vor, so publicly upstanding, were held together
with a web of private gossip. He'd heard more than a bit about
his sister, how she was no innocent maiden...
His sister reached out and caught his hands. He was
distracted from thinking about her reputation further when she
passed her
lips across his knuckles. And tingling tongue, leaving just the
tiniest
glistening spots. She let go, looked up
at him wistfully and said, "Ges, darling, you know I'll be married to
your friend soon. But before then..." She lifted her chin towards
the corner of the room, towards the grate he'd watched her through so
many times.
"I'll be a virgin on my wedding night," she said firmly. "But I
thought maybe, before it's too late, you'd like a taste..." With
a little shrug, the dressing gown slipped off her shoulders
and
into a silken puddle around her feet.
Ges stared. He couldn't do anything else, with that much beauty
less than an arm's length away. She was naked, luscious, with a
little red flush spreading across her chest and her eyes
sparkling. She reached for his hands again, and pulled him in
close. He drew in towards her warmth, and as she tipped her face
up for a kiss, he
seemed to split, with some part of him outside his body, watching
himself push towards
her...
She is slipping a hand down, between our hips, down to my groin.
I am moaning, I want her so much, I am raising a hand, cupping her
breast...
...but suddenly I cannot
breathe.
I stumble back, the sensation is like drowning. I can't
get any air, there's a horrible pressure on my chest, I am wet
with sweat and my every nerve is on fire. I crash into the wall,
next to the open
closet door. I am sure that I am dying.
"Ges, I only thought you'd want me...." The watching Ges was
gone, leaving only terror. He slammed the door
against the rest of
what his sister was saying as he fled, and passed through the next door
into his room, where he collapsed onto his bed, gasping...
Finally, when he felt nearly strong enough, he shook himself and sat
up. His
heart was pounding out a rhythm: They. Both. Want. You. They
both want you. Theybothwantyou... The panic came back, this
time with waves of nausea. He put his head down to his knees
and let it pass.
He
recalled Aral's words. How they would "sever the less acceptable
things between us." You
want less
acceptable, Aral, I could show it to you...
And decided that he could
never tell Aral what had happened, never bring him into it. And
for all that the two people he loved the most so clearly returned his
love,
he had never felt so alone.
The
wedding was gaudy and elaborate, as was appropriate for the
offspring
of two highly-placed families. Vorrutyer House was cleaned
and
decorated, the servants supplemented with hired help, and a selection
of ImpSec guards going undercover in the same smart uniforms as the
other staff. Over three hundred guests were in attendance;
though Emperor Ezar had sent his regrets on account of some
recently-discovered plots against his life, Prince Xav, his
half-brother and right-hand
man, was there, representing the Imperium, along with his Betan wife.
Of course they would have been there regardless, as Aral's
grandparents. Ges wondered, idly, if Aral missed his
mother
more than he and his sister missed their own. Probably.
Losing one's mother in a bloody, politically-motivated
tragedy would inspire such feelings more than having one's mother found
dead in her lover's arms.
Before
the ceremony, Ges's sister approached him, reached up, and
gave him a
kiss on the cheek. Her gown was blush-pink, fitted to the
waist and laced down the front,
and daringly low-cut enough that he could only imagine the arguments
that must have preceded its purchase. "How do I look?" she
asked
him, with a grin. She knew what he'd seen as she had
stretched up
to him.
"Absolutely
edible. Your new husband has much to look forward
to." He'd found that it was easy to slip back into light
flirtation with her, as if she had never offered herself up to
him. And she had not pursued this idea any further. Nonetheless,
you
know that I know that you
know...
"Now,
I need to see to Aral. And the next time we speak, you'll be
his
wife." Ges smiled and headed for the groom's chamber.
Aral was
withdrawn and
solemn
as they readied themselves for the wedding, only occasionally laughing
at Ges's light commentary. His reserve cracked, only a
little,
when he asked Ges to take a knife with a jeweled handle from
the sideboard, a gift from his father, and tuck
it into Aral's boot. It was just before they faced the crowd,
in
the last moment they had alone with each other. When the
knife
was placed, Ges did not stand up immediately; instead, he looked up,
and
quietly asked Aral, "Is this what you want?"
The
look on Aral's face said everything Ges needed to know.
How
many times had Ges gone down on one knee before Aral, and what had
usually followed? It was a well-remembered, intimate gesture,
between them. But a
moment
later, Aral had masked himself completely, ready for his bride.
After
the ceremony, there was the customary feast, with drinking
throughout and dancing afterwards. For some reason, neither
of
these much interested Ges. He was in an odd mood; something
angry whined at the back of his brain, but he tried to ignore it.
Late
in the evening, after far too much alcohol, Ges snapped.
He found Aral and sidled up him. "Don't drink
too
much,
now.
My sister is so looking forward to this night, her first time
with a man. We both know what goes first when you get potted.
You don't want to disappoint her, do you?"
It was a
nasty
remark, but not nearly as bad as what Ges really wanted to say -- or
do, as any hope he had that Aral would keep him, with or without the
marriage, seemed to fade. Aral
reddened,
set down his wineglass, and stalked away without saying a word.
Midnight,
by tradition, was the designated time for the newlyweds to
depart for their bedchamber. Everyone watched as Aral swept
his
bride off her feet and they ascended the stairs out of the ballroom,
and the low hum among the guests signaled sexual anticipation as much
as anything. As Ges raced up a side staircase towards his
room,
he realized that he would get to watch what some likely none-too-small
proportion of those guests wished they could. Not so long
ago,
they all would have waited just outside the bridal chamber, listening
intently and cheering when they knew the deed was done. These
days, the custom had gone underground;
much Barrayaran pornography centered around the deflowering of the
virgin bride on her wedding night.
But a man could still purchase the priveledge of taking the
virginity of a lower-class girl, if he had enough money and knew where
to ask.
Ges
arrived well ahead of Aral and his bride, and got settled in his
little
chamber. As he waited, he pondered the situation.
It struck him, in contrast with his attitudes toward Aral,
that for all that he enjoyed watching his sister, that he could never do anything
with
her. He supposed that his panicked response to her advances
proved that there was an incest taboo, after all.
The
happy couple arrived at last, and his sister laughed at Aral as he
carried her to the bed and laid her down on her back. He was
murmuring to her, burying his face in her chest, clearly eager.
And she reached up to him just as eagerly, unbuttoned his
jacket, and helped him strip off his tunic. Then she pushed
him
up and motioned him to stand at the side of the bed, and she swung
herself around so her dress bunched across her thighs and, legs wrapped
around his knees, she sat before Aral to undo the buttons on his
trousers -- with her
teeth. It was an exact move Ges had used previously -- and he no
longer cared to know where she'd learned it --
minus
the dress of course, but Aral didn't react
with the ardor Ges would
have expected. Rather, he stepped back from her, and looked away.
Haunted, if Ges knew Aral's expressions well enough.
A
moment later, his sister gasped as Aral drew the jeweled knife from his
boot and pushed her back
down on the bed. Ges had a terrible time staying silent, as
all the color drained out of her face and she trembled with
fear.
But
Ges's slight relaxation matched hers when he saw that Aral was only
using
the knife to carefully cut the lacing on his sister's dress,
and
then to rip
through the layers of underslips until her body was completely
revealed. When Aral was done, he pulled the slips away and
tossed the knife aside, and she took a deep shuddering breath as he
removed the rest of his clothing.
It
seemed almost sickening to Ges, that his sister would lose her
virginity laid out upon her wedding dress. And that knife
surely had some sort of deeper symbolism. But she recovered
her courage as Aral fell upon her once again. At the point of
consummation, she turned her head towards the grille on the wall and
smiled, a secret smile clearly meant for Ges. She
knows.
Then
her smile became a grimace of pain, and Ges had to turn
away, his eyes tightly closed. For the first time in his
life, he could not watch. It just hurt too much... not to
watch his sister, but to watch Aral. He put his hands over
his ears and tried to shut everything happening in the next room out of
his brain. A lump formed in his throat, and it took all his
will to keep from breaking into sobs. So Aral still held him,
just as he still held Aral. And she held him too, in a way.
After a long while, he opened his
eyes
and saw Aral and his sister curled up and dozing together on
the bed. It was over.
