Captain Vorpatril's Alliance (30 page)

“It’s only a temporary marriage, sir, as I hope Mamere explained? To rescue Tej from some, um, legal complications on Komarr. Which worked fine, all right and tight—got her all fixed up, free of them. Now we just have to get her free of me, and she’ll be, um…free.”

The clerk touched his wristcom, indicating time issues, and Count Falco gave him an acknowledging wave. “Yes, yes, I know. Well, good luck to you both…”

Falco toddled off down the corridor to the back door of his chambers. Ivan led Tej in the opposite direction, where they found the waiting area. Another clerk took their names, and left them to wait.

Tej circled the room, eyeing the woodwork and the items decorating the walls, mostly historical artifacts and prints, then stood studying the big wall viewer displaying successive scans of New Evias and rural District scenes since the Time of Isolation.

Ivan, too, rose after a while, because sitting was becoming unbearable, and studied the woodwork, or pretended to. “I’m glad they didn’t just knock this old place down like most of the rest of it. Makes it feel like our past isn’t just something to be thrown on a scrap heap, now we’re all turning galactic, y’know?”

This brought a smile to Tej’s lips, one of the few in the past hours. “Is that what you Barrayarans think you’re doing?”

But before Ivan could figure out a reply, the clerk returned to say, “Captain and Lady Vorpatril? Your case is up next.”

The clerk led them down the hall to Falco’s hearings chamber. They stood aside to let a group, no, two groups of people exit, one set looking elated, the other downcast and grumpy. The wood-paneled room was surprisingly small, and, to Ivan’s relief, uncrowded: just Falco and his clerk sitting at a desk on a raised dais; a couple of desks toward the front, where a woman lawyer was gathering up what appeared to be stacks of yellowing physical documents dating back to the Time of Isolation, along with her electronic case book; some empty backless benches bolted to the floor; and, by the door, an elderly sergeant-at-arms in a Vorpatril District uniform. The sergeant received Ivan and Tej from the clerk, who departed again, presumably to deal with whoever next needed to wait, and directed them to the empty tables.

“Um, should be one of you at each of these,” he said doubtfully, “and your respective counsels.”

“I’ll be out of here in just a moment,” said the lawyer, stacking faster.

“We’re skipping the counsel,” said Ivan. “Don’t need it.”

“And we’d rather sit together,” said Tej. Ivan nodded, and they both slipped behind the empty desk. Ivan let his hand dangle down between their uncomfortable wooden chairs, and Tej slid hers into it. Her fingers felt cold and bloodless, not at all like her usual self.

Count Falco lifted his head from some low-voiced consultation with his recording clerk, then made a sign to the sergeant-at-arms, who turned to the room and announced formally: “Next case, Captain Lord Ivan Xav Vorpatril versus Lady…” The sergeant paused and looked down at a slip in his hand, his lips moving. They rounded in doubt; he finally settled on, “His wife, Lady Vorpatril.”

The lawyer, about to make her exit, instead turned around and slid onto one of the back benches, her chin lifting in arrested curiosity. Ivan decided to ignore her.

The recording clerk leaned over, grasped an ancient cavalry spear bearing a blue-and-gold pennant that leaned drunkenly against the table edge, tapped its butt loudly in its wooden rest, and intoned, “Your Count is listening. Complainants please step forward.”

Tej looked at Ivan in panic; Count Falco leaned forward and encouraged them to their feet with a little crooking of his hands. A charitable pointing of one thick finger indicated where they should stand. Ivan and Tej stood and shuffled to a spot beneath his countly eye, holding hands very tightly.

The clerk observed into his recorder, “Petition for the dissolution of a marriage number six-five-five-seven-eight, oaths originally taken”—he gave the date of that mad scramble in Ivan’s rental flat—“Solstice Dome, Komarr.”

Ivan wasn’t sure whether to think,
Wait, was it only a month ago?
or
Is it a whole month already?
It had not been like any other month of his acquaintance, anyway.

“So…” Falco laced his hands together and stared down at Ivan and Tej for a long, thoughtful moment. Ivan, rendered uneasy by the sheer geezerish Falco-ness of his expression, edged closer to Tej.

Falco leaned back in his chair. “So, Captain Vorpatril, Lady Vorpatril. On what grounds do you petition this court for release from your spoken oaths?”

Ivan blinked. “Grounds, sir?” he hazarded.

“What is, or are, the substances of your complaint or complaints against each other?”

“It was understood from the beginning to be a temporary deal.”

“Yet you took permanent oath all the same.”

“Er, yes, sir?”

“Do you happen to be able to remember what you said?”

“Yes?”

“Repeat it for the court, please?”

Ivan did so, stumbling less than he had the first time, and leaving out the
of sound mind and body
part because he was afraid the lady lawyer would laugh.

Falco turned to Tej. “Is that as you also remember it, Lady Vorpatril?”

“Yes, sir, Count Vorpatril.” She glanced at Ivan, and ventured, “So what are the usual grounds for divorce on Barrayar, Count Vorpatril, sir?”

Falco folded his arms on his desk, smiling toothily. “Well, let’s just run down the list, shall we? Did either of you, at the time of your marriage, bear a concealed mutation?”

Tej’s eyebrows rose, for a moment almost haughty. Or haut-like. “I was gene-cleaned at conception, certified free of over five thousand potential defects.”

“Mm, no doubt. And the Cetagandan element has undergone recent revision of precedent here, so that won’t count either. Besides, I believe Ivan knew of your ancestry?”

“Yes, sir, Count Vorpatril, sir.”

“Ivan?” Falco prodded.

“Huh?” Ivan started. “Oh, you know I’m fine, sir!”

“So we all have long hoped,” Falco murmured. “Well, that disposes of that issue. Next, adultery. Do either of you accuse the other of adultery?”

“There’s hardly been
time
, sir!” said Ivan indignantly.

“You would be amazed at the tales I have heard upon this dais. Lady Tej?”

“No, Count Vorpatril, sir.”

Falco paused. “Ah…or admit to it?”

They both shook their heads. Tej looked peeved. “Really!” she whispered to Ivan.

“Well, let’s see, what next. Desertion, obviously not. Nonsupport?”

“I beg your pardon, sir?” said Tej.

“Does your spouse supply you with adequate food, clothing, shelter, medical care?”

“Oh—yes, sir! Abundantly. Vorbarra Sultana cuisine is just amazing! I’ve gained a kilo since we got here. Lady Vorpatril’s dresser helped me find the right clothes, Ivan’s flat is very nice, and medical issues, um, haven’t come up.”

“We’d cover it,” Ivan assured her. “Whatever it was. God forbid, of course.”

“And I see you, too, are looking quite healthy, Captain Vorpatril…hm, hm. What else do we have here.” Falco…
made play
, Ivan was sure, of consulting some notes.
Does he do this performance for every divorce petition, or are we special?

“Abuse—physical, mental, emotional?”

“Sir?” said Tej, staring up in palpable confusion.

“Does your husband beat you?”

“No!”

“Do you beat him?”

“No!” said Ivan. “Good grief, sir!”

“Does he insult you?”

“Certainly not!” Their voices overlapped on that one.

“Does Ivan restrict your mobility, your choices, your access to your family or friends?”

“He got me a groundcar permit, I have more choices than I know what to do with, and my family”—Tej bit her lip—“is out of reach for other reasons. Sir.”

“Ah. Yes,” said Falco. “Pardon an old Barrayaran’s clumsiness.”

“Sir.” Tej, startled and clearly moved by this apology, returned an uncertain nod. “There’s Rish. She’s the closest thing to family I have left. She lives with us.”

“So, we must cross off abuse, as well. What about denial of marital rights?”

“Sir?” said Tej. “What does that mean, in Barrayaran?”

Falco smiled. “When was the last time you had sex?” he clarified.

“Oh! This morning, sir.” Tej thought for a moment, then volunteered, “It was really good.”

Two snickers sounded from the back of the room. Ivan did not deign to turn his head.

“
And
congratulations, Ivan,” Falco murmured under his breath.

You wily old bastard, why are you yanking us around like this?
Ivan thought, but did not dare say it aloud.

“And so, what are we down to, here,” said Falco. “Hm, hm. Denial of children?”

Tej looked taken aback. “We’ve never discussed it.”

“It’s only a
temporary
marriage, sir,” Ivan said. “Children would be, er, rather permanent.”

“So we all hope and pray,” said Falco.

Tej twisted a strand of her hair in doubt. “Though I suppose if Ivan Xav wanted an egg donation, something could be arranged. My mother sold eggs, when she and my father were first married. To raise venture capital.”

Ivan rather thought all of the Barrayarans in the room blinked at this, even the ones behind him. He
would not
look around.

Falco recovered his balance and continued, “So, that one does not hold up, either. I’m afraid we’re reaching the bottom of my legal barrel here, Captain and Lady Vorpatril. Do either of you have anything else to offer?”

“But,” said Tej, in a confused voice, “it was the deal!”

“Yeah, there you go, sir!” said Ivan. “Breach-of-promise. That’s some kind of illegal, isn’t it?”

Falco’s bushy white eyebrows climbed. “Breach-of-promise, Ivan, is where an expectation of
marriage
is denied, not where an expectation of
divorce
is denied. Also, the complainant has to show palpable harm.” He looked them both over and just shook his head.

The clerk passed Falco a swiftly-scribbled note. He squinted, read it, and nodded. “Do either of you make any financial claims upon the other?”

“No,” said Tej, and “No,” said Ivan.

“Now, that
is
interesting. And nearly unique, if I may say so.” Falco sat back, sighing. At length, his tapping fingers stilled. He drew a breath. “It is the ruling of this Count’s Court that the respondents, Lord Ivan Xav Vorpatril and Lady Akuti Tejaswini Jyoti ghem Estif Arqua Vorpatril, have no grounds for the dissolution of their respective, freely spoken marital oaths. Your petition is denied. Case closed.”

The clerk reached over and banged the spear butt in its rest with two loud, echoing clacks.

Tej’s mouth had fallen open. Ivan was so stunned he could scarcely suck in air to sputter. “But, but, but…you can’t
do
that, sir!”

“Of course I can,” said Falco serenely. “That’s what I come here every session to do, in case you missed the turn, Ivan. Sit, listen to people, form and deliver judgments.” His smile stretched, endlessly it seemed. “I do this quite a lot, you know,” Falco confided to Tej. “Sometimes I begin to imagine I’ve heard it all, yet every once in a while there’s still some new surprise. Human beings are so endlessly variable.”

“But didn’t you say you’d talked to my mother?” said Ivan desperately.

“Oh, yes. At great length.” Falco leaned forward for the last time, his expression chilling down, and for a moment Ivan was conscious that he stood not before an elderly relative, but a count of Barrayar. “These are some words
not
from your mother. Do not ever again attempt to play fast and loose with solemn oaths in any jurisdiction of mine, Captain and Lady Vorpatril. If you should in the future acquire grounds for your petition, you may again bring it, but my court—which is very busy, I must point out, and has no time for frivolous suits—will not hear you again on the same matter in less than one-half year.”

“But,” moaned Ivan, still in shock. Even he wasn’t sure but
what
.

Falco made a finger-flicking gesture. “
Out
, Ivan. Good day, Lady Tej. Countess Vorpatril hopes to see you both at Vorpatril House in the near future.”

Count Falco jerked his head at the sergeant-at-arms, who came forward and grasped Ivan by the sleeve, towing him gently but inexorably toward the door. Tej followed, bewilderment in every line of her body. A mob of people waiting to enter shouldered impatiently past them as they cleared the doorframe and stood, directionless, in the corridor, and the sergeant-at-arms turned his attention to herding the newcomers toward their respective benches. The door closed on the babble, although it opened again in a moment to emit the lawyer, papers and files stacked in her arms.

She twisted around her stack and reached into her case to extract a card, which she handed to Ivan. “My number, Captain.”

Ivan took it in numb fingers. “Is this…if we want legal advice?”

“No, love. It’s for if you ever want a
date
.” She trod away up the hall, laughing. By the time she reached the far end of the corridor, the echoes had died, but then she glanced back and her un-lawyerly giggles burst forth once more as she turned down the stairwell.

Holding onto each other like two people drowning, Ivan and Tej staggered out of the archaic building and into watery early-winter sunlight. Apparently, still married.

At least I was right about one thing
, Ivan thought.
It did only take ten minutes
.

Chapter Thirteen

Tej paced up and down Ivan Xav’s living room. Ivan Xav sat with a drink in his hands, occasionally putting it down in favor of holding his head, instead. Rish perched on the couch with her feet drawn up, listening to their tale; at first with gratifying disbelief, then with increasing and much less gratifying impatience, which was now edging into exasperation.

“I still can’t believe that one old man, who wasn’t even
there
, could cancel out my deal like that!” fumed Tej. “I thought this was supposed to be all fixed up in advance!”

“It was, it seems—but not by me,” said Ivan Xav, sounding morose. “That was my first mistake, going to someone who knows Mamere. We should have taken this to some judge who didn’t know me from a hole in the ground, let alone since childhood. Total strangers wouldn’t have known what the hell was going on, and might have let us just slide on through.”