Winterfair Gifs

Winterfair Gifsby Lois McMaster Bujold From Armsman Roics wrist com the gate guards voice reported laconically, Theyre in. Gates locked.Right, Roic returned. Dropping the house shields. He turned to the discreet security control panel beside the carved double doors of Vorkosigan Houses main entry hall, pressed his palm to the read-pad, and entered a short code. The faint hum of the force shield protecting the great house faded.Roic stared anxiously out one of the tall, narrow windows flanking the portal, ready to throw the doors wide when mlords groundcar pulled into the porte cochere. He glanced no less anxiously down the considerable length of his athletic body, checking his House uniform: half-boots polished to mirrors, trousers knife-creased, silver embroidery gleaming, dark brown fabric spotless.His face heated in mortified memory of a less expected arrival in this very hallalso of Lord Vorkosigan with honored company in towand the unholy tableau mlord had surprised with the Escobaran bounty hunters and the gooey debacle of the bug butter. Roic had looked an utter fool in that moment, nearly naked except for a liberal coating of sticky slime. He could still hear Lord Vorkosigans austere, amused voice, as cutting as a razor-slash across his ears: Armsman Roic, youre out of uniform.He thinks Im an idiot. Worse, the Escobarans invasion had been a security breach, and while hed not, technically, been on dutyhed been asleep, dammithed been present in the house and therefore on call for emergencies. The mess had been in his lap, literally. Mlord had dismissed him from the scene with no more than an exasperated Roicget a bath, somehow more keenly excoriating than any bellowed dressing-down.Roic checked his uniform again.The long silvery groundcar pulled up and sighed to the pavement. The front canopy rose on the driver, the senior and dauntingly competent Armsman Pym. He released the rear canopy and hurried around the car to assist mlord and his party. The senior armsman spared a glance through the narrow window as he strode by, his eye passing coolly over Roic and scanning the hall beyond to make sure it contained no unforeseen drama this time. These were Very Important Off-World Wedding Guests, Pym had impressed upon Roic. Which Roic might have been left to deduce by mlord going personally to the shuttleport to greet their descent from orbitbut then, Pym had walked in on the bug butter disaster, too. Since that day, his directives to Roic had tended to be couched in words of one syllable, with no contingency left to chance.A short figure in a well-tailored gray tunic and trousers hopped out of the car first: Lord Vorkosigan, gesturing expansively at the great stone mansion, talking nonstop over his shoulder, smiling in proud welcome. As the carved doors swung wide, admitting a blast of Vorbarr Sultana winter night air and a few glittering snow crystals, Roic stood to attention and mentally matched the other people exiting the ground-car with the security list hed been given. A tall woman held a baby bundled in blankets; a lean, smiling fellow hovered by her side. They had to be the Bothari-Jeseks. Madame Elena Bothari-Jesek was the daughter of the late, legendary Armsman Bothari; her right of entree into Vorkosigan House, where she had grown up with mlord, was absolute, Pym had made sure Roic understood. It scarcely needed the silver circles of a jump pilots neural leads on midforehead and temples to identify the shorter middle-aged fellow as the Betan jump pilot, Arde Mayhewshould a jump pilot look so jump-lagged? Well, mlords mother, Countess Vorkosigan, was Betan, too; and the pilots blinking, shivering stance was among the most physically unthreatening Roic had ever seen. Not so the final guest. Roics eyes widened.The hulking figure unfolded from the groundcar and stood up, and up. Pym, who was almost as tall as Roic, did not come quite up to its shoulder. It shook out the swirling folds of a gray-and-white greatcoat of military cut and threw back its head. The light from overhead caught the face and gleamed off were those fangs hooked over the outslung lower jaw?Sergeant Taura was the name that went with it, by process of elimination. One of mlords old military buddies, Pym had given Roic to understand, anddont be fooled by the rankof some particular importance (if rather mysterious, as was everything connected with Lord Miles Vorkosigans late career in Imperial Security). Pym was former ImpSec himself. Roic was not, as he was reminded, oh, three times a day on average.At Lord Vorkosigans urging, the whole party poured into the entry hall, shaking off snow-spotted garments, talking, laughing. The greatcoat was swung from those high shoulders like a billowing sail, its owner turning neatly on one foot, folding the garment ready to hand over. Roic jerked back to avoid being clipped by a heavy, mahogany-colored braid of hair as it swept past, and rocked forward to find himself face to nose to staring directly into an entirely unexpected cleavage. It was framed by pink silk in a plunging vee. He glanced up. The outslung jaw was smooth and beardless. The curious pale amber eyes, irises circled with sleek black lines, looked back down at him with, he instantly feared, some amusement. Her fang-framed smile was deeply alarming.Pym was efficiently organizing servants and luggage. Lord Vorkosigans voice yanked Roic back to focus. Roic, did the count and countess get back in from their dinner engagement yet?About twenty minutes ago, mlord. They went upstairs to their suite to change.Lord Vorkosigan addressed the woman with the baby, who was attracting cooing maids. My parents would skin me if I didnt take you up to them instantly. Come on. Mothers pretty eager to meet her namesake. I predict Baby Cordelia will have Countess Cordelia wrapped around her pudgy little fingers in about, oh, three and a half seconds. At the outside.He turned and started up the curve of the great staircase, shepherding the Bothari-Jeseks and calling over his shoulder, Roic, show Arde and Taura to their assigned rooms, make sure they have everything they want. Well meet back in the library when you all are freshened up or whatever. Drinks and snacks will be laid on there.So, it was a lady sergeant. Galactics had those; mlords mother had been a famous Betan officer in her day. But this ones a bloody giant mutant lady sergeant was a thought Roic suppressed more firmly. Such backcountry prejudices had no place in this household. Though, she was clearly bioengineered, had to be. He recovered himself enough to say, May I take your bag, um Sergeant?Oh, all right. With a dubious look down at him, she handed him the satchel shed had slung over one arm. The pink enamel on her fingernails did not quite camouflage their shape as claws, heavy and efficient as a leopards. The bags descending weight nearly jerked Roics arm out of its socket. He managed a desperate smile and began lugging it two-handed up the staircase in mlords wake.He deposited the tired-looking pilot first. Sergeant Tauras second-floor guest room was one of the renovated ones, with its own bath, around the corridors corner from mlords own suite. She reached up and trailed a claw along the ceiling and smiled in evident approval of Vorkosigan Houses three-meter headspace.So, she said, turning to Roic, is a Winterfair wedding considered especially auspicious, in Barrayaran custom?Theyre not so common as in summer. Mostly I think its now because mlords fiancee is between semesters at university.Her thick brows rose in surprise. Shes a student?Yes, maam. He had a notion one addressed female sergeants as maam. Pym would have known.I didnt realize she was such a young lady.No, maam. Madame Vorsoissons a widowshe has a little boy, Nikkinine years old. Mad about jumpships. Do you happent knowdoes that pilot fellow like children? Mayhew was bound to be a magnet for Nikki.Why I dont know. I dont think Arde knows either. He hardly ever meets any in a free mercenary fleet.He would have to watch, then, to be sure little Nikki didnt set himself up for a painful rebuff. Mlord and mlady-to-be might not be paying their usual attention to him, under the circumstances.Sergeant Taura circled the room, gazing with what Roic hoped was approval at its comfortable appointments, and glanced out the window at the back garden, shrouded in winter white, the snow luminous in the security lighting. I suppose it makes sense that hed have to wed one of his own Vor kind, in the end. Her nose wrinkled. So, are the Vor a social class, a warrior caste, or what? I never could quite figure it out from Miles. The way he talks about them youd half think they were a religion. Or at any rate, his religion.Roic blinked in bafflement. Well, no. And yes. All of that. The Vor are well, Vor.Now that Barrayar has modernized, isnt a hereditary aristocracy resented by the rest of your classes?But theyre our Vor.Says the Barrayaran. Hmm. So, you can criticize them, but heaven help any outsider who dares to?Yes, he said, relieved that she seemed to have grasped it despite his stumbling tongue.A family matter. I see. Her grin faded into a frown that was actually less alarmingnot so much fang. Her fingers clenching the curtain inadvertently poked claws through the expensive fabric; wincing, she shook her hand free and tucked it behind her back. Her voice lowered. So shes Vor, well and good. But does she love him?Roic heard the odd emphasis in her voice but was unclear how to interpret it. Im very sure of it, maam, he avowed loyally. Mlady-to-bes frowns, her darkening mood, were surely just prewedding nerves piled atop examination stress on the substrate of her not-so-distant bereavement.Of course. Her smile flicked back in a perfunctory sort of way. Have you served Lord Vorkosigan long, Armsman Roic?Since last winter, maam, when a space fell vacant in the Vorkosigans armsmens score. I was sent up on recommendation from the Hassadar Municipal Guard, he added a bit truculently, challenging her to sneer at his humble, nonmilitary origins. A counts twenty armsmen are always from his own district, ysee.She did not react; the Hassadar Municipal Guard evidently meant nothing to her.He asked in return, Did you serve him very long? Out there? In the galactic backbeyond where mlord had acquired such exotic friends.Her face softened, the fanged smile reappearing. In a sense, all my life. Since my real life began, ten years ago, anyway. He is a great man. This last was delivered with unself-conscious conviction.Well, he was a great mans son, certainly. Count Aral Vorkosigan was a colossus bestriding the last half century of Barrayaran history. Lord Miles had led a less public career. Which no one would tell Roic anything about, the most junior armsman not being ex-ImpSec like mlord and most of the rest of the armsmen, eh.Still, Roic liked the little lord. What with the birth injuries and allRoic shied away from the pejorative mutations梙ed had a rough ride all his life despite his high blood. Hard enough for him to just achieve normal things, like like getting married. Although, mlord had brains enough, belike, in compensation for his stunted body. Roic just wished he didnt think his newest armsman a dolt.The library is to the right of the stairs as you go down, through the first room. He touched his hand to his forehead in a farewell salute, by way of paving his escape from this unnerving giant female. The dinings to be casual tonight; you dont needt dress. He added, as she glanced down in bewilderment at her travel-rumpled loose pink jacket and trousers, Dress up, that is. Fancy. What youre wearing is fine.Oh, she replied with evident relief. That makes more sense. Thank you. Having made his routine security circuit of the house, Roic arrived back at the antechamber just outside the library to find the huge woman and the pilot fellow examining the array of wedding presents temporarily staged there. The growing assortment of objects had been arriving for weeks. Each had been handed in to Pym to be unwrapped and to undergo a security check, rewrapped, and as the affianced couples time permitted, unwrapped again and displayed with its card.Look, heres yours, Arde, said Sergeant Taura. And heres Ellis.Oh, what did she finally decide on? asked the pilot. At one point she told me she was thinking of sending the bride a barbed-wire choke chain for Miles, but was afraid it might be misinterpreted.No Taura held up a thick fall of shimmering black stuff as long as she was tall. It seems to be some sort of fur coat. No, waitits a blanket. Beautiful! You should feel this, Arde. Its incredibly soft. And warm. She held a supple fold up to the side of her head, and a delighted laugh broke from her long lips. Its purring!Mayhews eyebrows climbed halfway to his receding hairline. Good God! Did she ? Now, thats a bit edgy.Taura stared down at him in puzzled inquiry. Edgy? Why?Mayhew made an uncertain gesture. Its a live fura genetic construct. It looks just like one Miles once gave to EM. If shes recycling his gifts, thats a pretty pointed message. He hesitated. Though I suppose if she bought a fresh new one for the happy couple, thats a different message.Ouch. Taura tilted her head to one side and frowned at the fur. My lifes too short for arcane mind games, Arde. Which is it?Search me. In the dark, all cat blankets are well, black, in this case. I wonder if its intended as an editorial? Well, if it is, dont you dare let on to the poor bride, or I swear Ill turn both your ears into doilies. She held up her clawed fingers and wriggled them. By hand.Judging by the pilots brief grin, the threat was a jest, but by his little bow of compliance, not an entirely empty one. Taura observed Roic, just then, refolded the live fur into its box, and tucked her hands discreetly behind her back.The door to the library swung open, and Lord Vorkosigan stuck his head out. Ah, there you two are. He strolled into the antechamber. Elena and Baz will be down in a littleshes feeding Baby Cordelia. You must be starving by now, Taura. Come on in and try the hors doeuvres. My cook has outdone herself.He smiled up affectionately at the enormous sergeant. While the top of Roics head barely came up to her shoulder, mlord just about faced her belt buckle. It occurred to Roic that Taura towered over himself in almost exactly the same proportions that ladies of average height towered over Lord Vorkosigan. This must be what women looked like to mlord all the time.Oh.Mlord waved his guests through to the library but, instead of following them, shut the door and motioned Roic to his side. He looked thoughtfully up at his tallest armsman and lowered his voice.Tomorrow morning, I want you to drive Sergeant Taura to the Old Town. Ive prevailed upon Aunt Alys to present Taura to her modiste and fix her up with a Barrayaran ladys wardrobe suitable for the upcoming bash. Figure to hold yourself at their disposal for the day.Roic gulped. Mlords aunt, Lady Alys Vorpatril, was in her own way more terrifying than any woman Roic had ever encountered, regardless of height. She was the acknowledged social arbiter of the high Vor in the capital, the last word in fashion, taste, and etiquette, the official hostess for Emperor Gregor himself. And her tongue could slice a fellow to ribbons and tie up the remains in a bowknot before they hit the ground.Howt devil did you Roic began, then cut himself off.Mlord smirked. I was very persuasive. Besides, Lady Alys relishes a challenge. With luck, she may even be able to part Taura from that shocking pink she favors. Some damned fool once told her it was a nonthreatening color, and now she uses it in the most unsuitable garmentsand quantities. Its so wrong on her. Well, Aunt Alys will be able to handle it. If anyone asks for your opinionnot that theyre likely tovote for whatever Alys picks.I shouldnt dare do otherwise, Roic managed not to blurt aloud. He stood to attention and tried to look as though he were listening intelligently.Lord Vorkosigan tapped his fingers on his trouser seam, his smile fading. Im also relying on you to see that Taura is not, um, offered insult, or made uncomfortable, or well, you know. Not that you can keep people from staring, I dont suppose. But be her outrider in any public venue, and be alert to steer her away from any problems. I wish I had time to squire her myself, but this wedding prep has gone into high gear. Not much longer now, thank God.How is Madame Vorsoisson holding up? Roic inquired diffidently. He had been wondering for two days if he ought to report the crying jag to someone, but mlady-to-be had surely not realized her muffled breakdown in one of Vorkosigan Houses back corridors had included a hastily retreating witness.Judging by mlords suddenly guarded expression, perhaps he knew. She has extra stresses just now. Ive tried to take as much of the organizing off her shoulders as possible. His shrug was not as reassuring as it might be, Roic felt.Mlord brightened. Anyway, I want Sergeant Taura to have a great time on her visit to Barrayar, a fabulous Winterfair season. Its probably the only chance shell ever have to see the place. I want her to look back on this week like, like dammit, I want her to feel like Cinderella magicked off to the ball. Shes earned it, God knows. Midnight tolls too damned soon.Roic tried to wrap his mind around the concept of Lord Vorkosigan as the enormous womans fairy godfather. So whost handsome prince?Mlords smile went crooked; something almost like pain sounded in his indrawn breath. Ah. Yes. That would be the central problem, now. Wouldnt it.He dismissed Roic with his usual casual half-salute, a vague wave of his hand in the vicinity of his forehead, and joined his guests in the library. Roic had never in his whole career as a Hassadar municipal guardsman been in a clothing store resembling that of Lady Vorpatrils modiste. Nothing betrayed its location in the Vorbarr Sultana thoroughfare but a discreet brass plaque, labeled simply ESTELLE. Cautiously, he mounted to the second floor, Sergeant Tauras massive footsteps creaking on the carpeted stairs behind him, and poked his head into a hushed chamber that might have been a Vor ladys drawing room. There was not a garment rack nor even a mannequin in sight, just a thick carpet, soft lighting, and tables and chairs that looked suitable for offering high tea at the Imperial Residence. To his relief Lady Vorpatril had arrived before them and was standing chatting with another woman in a dark dress.The two women turned as Taura ducked her head under the lintel behind Roic and straightened up again. Roic nodded a polite greeting. He couldnt imagine what mlord had said to his aunt, but her eyes widened only slightly, looking up at Taura. The second woman didnt quail at the fangs, claws, or height either, but when her glance swept down the pink trouser outfit, she winced.There was a brief pause; Lady Alys shot Roic an inquiring look, and he realized it must be his job to do the announcing, as when he brought a visitor into Vorkosigan House. Sergeant Taura, my lady, he said loudly, then stopped, hoping for more cues.After another moment, Lady Alys abandoned further hope of him and came forward, smiling, her hands held out. Sergeant Taura. I am