Written For: desertvixen in Fandom 5k 2023
Betaed by: Greenygal, who was deeply helpful with both canon and thematic elements. Thank you so much!
The first time Delia saw the woman, it was after a party at the Residence and she assumed that the woman had gotten lost.
The woman was at the other end of the hall, so Delia didn't get a good look at her face, but she was either one of those elderly women who refused to adapt to changing fashion, or playing dress-up. And she was wearing a day dress, not a gown suitable for a Residence event. All this Delia took in at a glance, years of experience with Tante Alys having trained her eye.
Regardless, she shouldn't be here, in the North Wing, which was mostly offices and infrastructure, and not somewhere party guests should wander freely. "Can I help you?" Delia called.
The woman glanced back at Delia and glided silently around a corner. Delia followed quickly, but the woman was nowhere to be seen. She'd probably stepped into one of the offices that lined the hall; some of them were still open, as this was the hall that housed the Social Secretary's office (which in the off-season was Delia's domain; since Gregor's wedding, Tante Alys was no longer needed as hostess, and that meant she could take extended vacations, leaving the day-to-day work to Delia to manage). On nights when there was a ball or formal dinner or other event at the Residence, it was all hands on deck for the Secretaries. Most such work took place at the event, of course, but there were frequently details that were easier to handle in the quiet of their offices.
Sure enough, Dowager Countess Vorlakial's office door was open, and the lights were on; as the Secretary with the highest social rank, she had a suite instead of a single office. Delia peeked inside, but the mystery lady wasn't there.
Delia glanced around. Madam Stasia Vorreedi, Dowager Countess Vorlakial's eldest granddaughter, was coming down the hall, presumably to collect her grandmother.
"Madam Vorreedi, what a pleasure to see you," Delia said. "I hope you enjoyed this evening?" It had been a dinner and concert put on as a benefit for the Lady Vorbohn's Children's Hospital, and the only issues Delia's team had had to deal with had been minor and (hopefully) invisible to the Imperial Family and their guests.
"Of course," Madam Vorreedi said, reserved as always. "I congratulate you on your entertainment; that soprano gave the best performance of the Lady of the Lake's aria I've heard in a long time. Where did you find her?" Madam Vorreedi was a snob, and Delia didn't much care for her, but even when Delia had been a young prole just starting to attend Residence events on the strength of her parents' careers and the other woman had been a Count's daughter hoping to become Empress, Madam Vorreedi had been perfectly polite. It was better than a lot of her peers and friends had been.
"Thank you," Delia said. "One of my husband's men heard her performing in the Kithera Regional Opera, in Vorbretten's District. He passed the recommendation along." She glanced around. "Did you see a woman in the hall just now, in a day dress thirty years out of date? She was wearing an olive green dress made of structured and pleated silks in the Ezarian style, with leg-of-mutton sleeves on the bolero jacket; it was very fine, though I only caught a glimpse of it. She had dark hair styled in a tall, elaborate bouffant."
Madam Vorreedi shook her head. "I'm sorry, I haven't seen anyone of that description tonight."
"Thank you anyway," Delia said, and took her leave with a curtsey that was much shallower than it had been back when Delia was a girl. Madam Vorreedi still out-ranked her, technically, but Delia's post as Lady Alys' right-hand woman gave her a prestige and power that even a Count's daughter could not equal.
As she walked away, Delia pulled out a commlink and reported the encounter to Colonel Vingradov, who was in charge of security this evening. It was probably nothing; this floor of the North Wing had relatively low security, because the social secretary did business with a wide variety of people, and the Imperial family seldom came here. When Gregor or Laisa needed to be involved in planning an event, Alys and Delia went to them, not the other way around. (Gregor's office was in this wing, but on a different floor and just off the main block of the Palace, and there was much tighter security there.) It wasn't uncommon for people related to the staff to drop by for a visit, either.
Still. It was the Residence, and it was better safe than sorry.
That done, Delia collected the items from her office that she'd come to get, and headed out to the side entrance where Duv was waiting for her. The event was over, the servants were handling the cleanup, and anything else could wait until the next day.
Delia was woken up the next morning by her husband kissing her cheek. "What time is it?" she said sleepily.
"Still early," Duv said, "but not all of us get time off work because we attended a party last night." He smiled and straightened his collar in the mirror.
"The party was work, not play, for me," Delia said. "Excellent soprano notwithstanding. So I get time off to compensate. Thank Lieutenant Galnis for me." That was the nice thing about working at the Residence. Tante Cordelia had long since insisted on sensible and fair rules on pay and time off for everyone from the lowest scullery maid to the top staff. Even now, thirty years later, you still got Vor complaining that it gave proles 'ideas,' to have such a standard in the Palace, but few of them did it where Delia could hear.
"I'll pass on your compliments," Duv said. He gave her another kiss and headed off to work.
When she got to the office that afternoon, after a luxurious lie-in, there was a note from ImpSec on her comconsole. No woman matching that description had entered or exited the Residence that night, or appeared in any of the public areas that had security cameras, and they assumed she had changed into the dress once here. They were doing an extra-thorough post-event sweep of the whole Residence, just in case, but didn't expect to find anything. Things were quiet, at the moment. The Council of Counts was in its summer recess, and neither the dissident Komarrans nor the anarchist proles were stirring up more trouble than usual.
Delia sat back. Changing the dress was certainly possible, and they did get people wanting to play out fantasies in the Residence every so often; usually, such people tried to break into the older section of the Palace, which had a more romantic history and also rooms more interesting than the offices of the North Wing. Maybe this had merely been a thrill-seeker smart enough to figure out she was less likely to get caught (and the penalties would be less severe) in a part of the Palace the Imperial Family spent little time in.
But that hair—that hair couldn't go unnoticed, and it took a long time to style. There was a reason it had mostly been confined to High Vor ladies before it went out of fashion. (Tante Cordelia liked to take credit for its demise, as she had refused to wear it, given how hard it was to maintain and how long it took to style every morning. Delia thought it was more likely the seasonal change of fashions combined with the growing use of galactic hair products among the common proles to achieve the same look in less time.) Still, it could have been a wig; but that plus the dress would make a very large suitcase or bag to carry, and ImpSec allowed few people to bring such things in, and searched them when they did.
Delia sent a note of her own pointing that out; competent as ImpSec was, they probably wouldn't know how long it would have taken to produce the woman's hairstyle, or how large the wig would have to have been if it were a wig.
Then she turned back to all the myriad details that had been neglected over the last few days in favor of finalizing plans for the concert.
Delia had mostly forgotten about the mystery lady in the three-decade-old fashions when she saw her again. It was an ordinary day in the Residence; it was the summer, which was traditionally a slow season for social events in Vorbarr Sultana. Now that few Counts were involved directly in the agricultural workings of their districts, that was changing; but it was an excellent excuse to lighten the schedule. And, given that Empress Laisa was only slightly more enthusiastic about entertaining than Emperor Gregor was, it was one the social staff took full advantage of. Tante Alys, for example, was currently at a resort on the South Continent.
"I'm wondering if we shouldn't add a garden party to the schedule," Dowager Countess Vorlakial said. "We haven't done one in a few years, and it would add a nice variety." They'd worked together for a few years, now, and had a good working relationship, but the Dowager Countess was not one to offer her first name to a prole woman so many decades her junior.
"The schedule for the remainder of the season is fairly set," Delia said. Dowager Countess Vorlakial was very good at her job, and Delia had learned almost as much from her as from Lady Alys. But she did have a tendency to suggest changes at the last minute that were usually more disruptive than helpful. "You never mentioned it during our planning sessions, is there any particular reason you bring it up now?"
"Stasia asked why we haven't done any lately," she said. "The gardens at the palace are exquisite, and they're only open to the public when there's an event in them."
"True," Delia said. "We do get school tours through sometimes, but that's not the same thing. We could look into opening up part of them when the Imperial Family is not in residence."
"Oh, that's a good idea," the Dowager Countess said. "Of course the first step is asking ImpSec if it's possible without compromising security, but it would be nice to bring my grandchildren here to see Empress Dimya's roses. Stasia, in particular, has always loved them. She's noted for her roses, Stasia, I mean. And opening up the gardens would give access without needing to rearrange the schedule at this late date."
"Probably," Delia said. And also, most of the work would be done by ImpSec and the Visitor's Office, not by the social secretaries. Tante Alys was not the only key member of the social staff on vacation. They had sufficient people for the few, small events on the schedule already. They did not have enough to whip up a new event at short notice. "You could talk to Lady Alys about putting a garden party on next summer's schedule."
"Provided I don't forget in the meantime," the Dowager Countess said. She looked up and brightened. "Ah, Stasia!" she said as her granddaughter entered. "What excellent timing! We were just discussing your suggestion of a garden party. Perhaps we'll have one next year, but for this year, we shall see if we can open up the gardens a bit more for people to enjoy."
"I do hope the omission of such an event is mere oversight," Madam Vorreedi said, "and not a reflection of any … preferences or fears on the part of the Empress."
Laisa did have a touch of the agoraphobia that Komarrans were prone to, but not very strongly. "Not at all," Delia said with a smile. "She finds outdoor events quite charming. Which is part of the reason she and the Emperor will be attending the whole week of events around the Lorimel Derby Races. If there's any one reason why there isn't a garden party at the Residence this year, it's that—between the Races and the Emperor's personal retreat and the partial tour of the Vorbarra District he's doing, there won't be much time where the Emperor and Empress are actually in residence."
"So she's travelling with him, then?" Madam Vorreedi said. "Very devoted of her, of course; quite admirable. But if she'd stayed home, well, I've noticed she doesn't really host many of her own events, does she? I'd hoped that having an Empress again would mean a return to the scale of entertaining Princess Kareen was known for."
Madam Vorreedi had lost some of her subtlety since her marriage, Delia noted. She'd never have been that direct before. On the other hand, once she'd lost her chance at marrying the Emperor—or a Count, or Count's heir, or into one of the handful of titled non-Count families—there was less reason to be circumspect.
"You were three years old when Princess Kareen died, Stasia," said Dowager Countess Vorlakial with a laugh.
"But I've heard the stories," Madam Vorreedi said. "And if Empress Laisa isn't careful, Countess Vormorin will be known as the greatest hostess in Vorbarr Sultana, when it should rightfully be the Empress."
"Hm," said Delia. She wasn't wrong, but Empress Laisa had far more projects in the works than Princess Kareen had been permitted. Hosting parties and soirees and balls and the like—and choosing who to honor, who to snub, and who to introduce to whom—had been the only sort of power or influence Kareen had been permitted. Laisa was free to work more directly, and often chose to do so.
"But I suppose you are here to tell me that I am running late," the Dowager Countess said. "As usual."
"Not yet, Grandmama," Madam Vorreedi said with a smile. "But coming to collect you myself will save both of us no end of aggravation—and the children the disappointment of missing the first bit of the concert. Besides, you know I don't mind coming to visit you."
And also, Delia noted silently, it was a good excuse for Madam Vorreedi to come to the Residence. She might not have the true prize—nor any title beyond Madam—but she had access to the Residence through her grandmother, and that was almost as good. There were Countesses who didn't have as much access as Madam Vorreedi did, and she used it.
"We're going to a Children's Theater event this evening," the Dowager Countess told Delia. She gathered up her work items, realized something was missing, and began looking around for it.
"Don't let me keep you from it," Delia said. She picked up the stylus the Dowager Countess was probably looking for and handed it to her. "I hope you all have a lovely evening."
"Thank you," Madam Vorreedi said with a nod.
Delia stood to give them a proper curtsey, which they returned, before walking out of her office, arm-in-arm.
As they turned down the hall, the woman in unfashionable silk and an enormous bouffant hairstyle glided into view through the door, watching in the direction they had gone.
Delia sat frozen. This close, she could recognize the woman from her portrait.
The woman glanced at her, frowned, and turned back to follow the Dowager Countess and Madam Vorreedi.
This time, Delia didn't bother reporting her.
What, after all, could ImpSec possibly do about a ghost?
"Not going to work this morning?" Duv asked when Delia joined him for toast and a piece of fruit the next morning.
"I'm taking a few hours off to go to the doctor," Delia said. She was still in her bathrobe, and usually by this point in the morning she'd be out the door without eating. (She liked to breakfast in the Residence; they always had good food available for the staff, and it was much easier than preparing something herself this early in the morning.)
"Nothing serious, I hope?" Duv said, doing up his collar.
"It's probably nothing," Delia said. "But I thought I saw a ghost, yesterday, and I want to make sure there's nothing neurological going on."
"A ghost?" Duv frowned. "Here?"
They lived in a three-hundred-year-old building that had been converted into luxury flats a decade ago, so it was a logical assumption. "No," Delia said. "At the Residence."
"But you work in the wing that Cordelia burnt down," Duv said. "And the Imperial Family aren't in residence this week—why would you be in the old part of the Residence?"
"I was in my own office," Delia said.
"Nobody's died there since it was rebuilt, how would it get a ghost?" Duv asked.
"It was someone who died before it burned," Delia said. "Just before." In the very moments before it was set aflame, to hear Mama tell the story. "You believe in ghosts, Duv?"
"Of course I do," Duv said. "They're fairly common on Komarr. And I know Barrayarans believe in ghosts. That's why you have so many ancestor veneration rituals." He nodded to the shrine in the corner of the living room which you could just see from the dining room.
"Well, yes," Delia said, feeling vaguely embarrassed. "And I do, sort of; at least, I don't dis-believe. But I have very vivid memories of the time Tante Cordelia caught us girls telling ghost stories and gave us a talking-to about how there was no empirical evidence for the supernatural despite centuries of people trying to get it, and also, never to tell those stories where Gregor could hear. Or any galactic, if we didn't want them to think we were stupid and provincial."
Duv shrugged. "Betans. But of course, if science could analyze something, it wouldn't be super-natural in the first place. Not all galactics are so relentlessly dismissive of anything that can't be proved, you know." He frowned. "Why was she worried about Gregor in particular?"
"The stories were about his mother, Princess Kareen," Delia said. "Kareen—my sister—claimed she'd seen her a couple of times, mostly in the new wing. Olivia did, too, and we told ourselves she was looking for Vordarian to kill him, not realizing he was already dead. But we stopped telling those stories after that lecture."
"I can see why she wouldn't want you telling those stories around Gregor," Duv said. "The last thing he needed was to worry about his mother being an unquiet spirit, or feel uncomfortable in his own home. It's not like they could move him out of the Residence if he got scared."
"No, not really," Delia said. "Though that didn't occur to us at the time; he was just enough older—and more serious—that I don't think I would have believed he could be scared. I was only about nine or ten when we were telling those stories, you know."
Duv nodded and hummed understanding through the bite he was chewing on. "So, do you know who the ghost is? Or at least what era? If they're willing or able to talk, I've got a whole shipload of questions."
"I know who it is," Delia said, smiling. She could always tell he was relaxed and in a good mood when his passion for history came to the fore.
"Who?" Duv asked.
"Princess Kareen."
As Delia had expected, the doctor found nothing; she was in perfect physical health. And the Residence's filtration systems were second only to ImpSec's filters in their thoroughness. The chances of environmental contamination causing hallucinations were practically non-existent.
So. The ghost of Princess Kareen probably was wandering around the Palace, or at least the wing she'd died in. Delia wondered if Gregor had ever seen her.
She found herself thinking back to the childhood ghost stories she and her sisters had told, and keeping an eye out for the Princess. But there was nothing. A few flickers in the corner of her eye that might have been something or just her imagination.
That night, she burned a lock of hair for Princess Kareen in the family shrine. Her mother had always included the Princess in the Koudelka family ancestor shrine, and Delia had continued that when she made one of her own. She had nothing to say to the older woman, no assurances to give or requests to make, so she simply watched the lock of hair burn and cleaned everything up.
"Any more ghost sightings?" Duv asked as they folded laundry together.
"No," Delia said. Duv was doing the folding; Delia was doing the fiddly bits of starching and ironing her dresses. If she didn't work in the Residence, she wouldn't bother with this level of precision, but given her job she had to look perfectly put together and correct any time she was out in public. "I've been keeping an eye out for her, but the only things I've seen have been things I might have imagined. You know how it is."
"When you're looking for something so hard that you're half convinced anything vaguely close might be it?" Duv said. "I do indeed."
"I've been remembering the stories we used to tell about her," Delia said. "We made up some pretty gruesome ones. Olivia was the best at it—not just with the ghost of Princess Kareen, but in general. One time she made the neighbor boy cry. I remember we told one of the stories to our parents, and Da was pretty shocked that his pretty, sweet girls were telling stories about beheadings and mutilations and unquiet ghosts dragging the unwary down to hell. Mama thought it was all in good fun."
"Do you remember any of the details of those stories?"
"No, not really, just the feeling of being scared and shocked in the fun way," Delia said. "Olivia might. Perhaps we should see if she remembers any of those old stories, and would share them at a family gathering."
Duv grinned. "I confess, I'm curious about the differences between Komarran ghost stories and Barrayaran ones."
"Maybe you should tell a few," Delia said.
"Maybe," Duv said. They worked in a companionable silence for a while. "I wonder two things, mainly. Well," he tilted his head, "three. But the two big ones are, why did she stop appearing to you when you were children, and why is she appearing again to you now?"
Delia shrugged. "I don't know. It might be that after Tante Cordelia told us off, we stopped looking."
"That doesn't sound like any of you," Duv said. "After hearing the stories your mother tells about you all, I'd expect being forbidden would be more an encouragement than discouragement."
Delia snorted. "We weren't half as bad as Miles was."
"That's not saying much," Duv said dryly.
"True. On the other hand, it might simply be that we started spending less time at the Residence. Gregor was getting older, and people were starting to notice us hanging around—I think there was a bit of gossip about our parents trying to 'ensnare' Gregor so he'd marry one of us instead of a Vor. And anyway, we were too much younger to be good playmates for him."
"And if you weren't around much, you couldn't see the ghost."
Delia didn't respond, dealing with a fiddly bit on a collar. She could take her laundry to a shop to be professionally handled, and then she wouldn't have to worry about things like this, and occasionally she was tempted. But then she and Duv wouldn't have the quiet time to talk, as they did now when doing the laundry.
"It might also be that I just decided it couldn't be real if Tante Cordelia didn't believe in it," Delia said once she was done with the collar. "I idolized her at that age."
"Did you ever see the Princess's ghost?"
"I don't remember, for sure," Delia said thoughtfully. "It was so long ago. I know Kareen saw her; we spooked her for a while, telling her that Princess Kareen was going to try to steal the body of her namesake so she could live again."
Duv snickered.
"I have vivid memories of some of the stories Olivia told," Delia said. "I don't know. I might have seen her? But I might also simply have been imagining things from the stories."
Duv hummed an understanding sound. As an ImpSec officer, he knew better than most how unreliable memory and eyewitness accounts could be, especially of things from a person's childhood. "It still doesn't answer why she's appearing to you now; you've been working in the Residence for a few years, and I would have thought you'd have seen any ghosts long before this."
"I wonder if anyone else has seen her," Delia said. "Or if I'm the only one. And I wonder if I have seen her before, and just didn't recognize her? But the hairstyle and the dress are so distinctive, surely I'd remember."
"I'd expect so," Duv said. "Given your sharp eye for fashion, and how observant you are in general." He finished the last of the folding and stood up to put the piles of clothes away.
"What was your third question?" Delia asked.
"Hm?"
"Your third question," Delia said. "You wanted to know why she stopped appearing to us kids, and why she's appearing to me now. What was the third one?"
"If there's any way to interview her," Duv said. "I'd bet her perspective on Ezar and Serg and Vordarian and the general socio-political milieu she lived in would be fascinating."
Delia laughed and turned back to her work as Duv started putting clothes away.
The third time Delia saw the ghost of Princess Kareen was at a party. It was at the Residence, but it was a small affair—a reception in honor of some minor accomplishment on the part of some Vorbarr Sultana civic group that was mainly an excuse for those High Vor who remained in the capital over the summer to gather and glitter to each other. The Imperial Family was still in the District, so Lady Alys was presiding, which made things much easier on Delia and her staff. The lowered security alone was a boon.
There wasn't any dancing this evening—that would be too large an event to be held in the Emperor's absence—merely dinner and speeches followed by chamber music and conversation in an interconnected set of salon rooms on the east side of the main block of the Residence. It was a little-used set of rooms gaudily decorated in the extravagant style of the first few years after the end of the Time of Isolation, when galactic materials had started coming in and the price of gemstones had fallen and people had gone a little wild with possibility. They'd chosen it mainly because they liked to rotate events through the public spaces of the Residence and neither Gregor nor Laisa particularly cared for it, which made it perfect for use in their absence.
Delia hadn't been looking for the ghost, that night; so far, Kareen had only appeared in the wing that she had died in, and that was on the other side of the main bulk of the building, with a few small courtyards in between here and there to boot.
But Delia placed her wine glass on a passing servant's tray, turned around, and there she was—the Princess. Not three feet away, staring at Delia, eyes wide, mouth open as if she were screaming.
The sound of the chamber quartet felt like it was coming from a long ways away.
Kareen reached out to her. Delia lifted a hand in response, but fell short.
She glanced around to see if anyone else was reacting to the ghost. Nothing. The people she could barely hear were talking and drinking as usual.
When she glanced back, the Princess was gone, and the sounds of the party came rushing back.
Delia looked around, to see if Kareen was still there. This was different than the other appearances. Then, she had been tranquil; now, something was wrong. She caught a flash of green out of the corner of her eye and turned to follow it.
And crashed straight into Madam Vorreedi.
"Oh! I'm terribly sorry, madam," Delia said as she stepped back and disentangled herself, glad at least that neither had been holding wine glasses.
"You should be, Madam Galeni," Madam Vorreedi said crossly, adjusting her dress. It was new, and slightly more formal than Delia would have worn to an event like this; not quite a ballgown, but verging on it, with voluminous skirts that would sweep the floor gloriously in a waltz but mostly just got in the way of standing around talking. She stalked off to talk to someone else, and Delia scanned the room again for any sign of the ghost.
Nothing.
"I saw the ghost again, today," Delia told Duv as they got ready for bed. She stripped off her stockings and tossed them in the hamper, wriggling her toes on the carpet. "At the party. It was a lot more dramatic, this time. She was upset, and for just a moment it felt like the world fell away and it was only the two of us. Then she was gone."
"Did anyone else see her?" Duv asked, watching as she hung up her gown in the bag that would go to the cleaners.
"Not that I know of," Delia said. "Nobody else seemed to be looking at her. But then, I haven't told anyone at the Residence about her, either, so someone else may have and I don't know about it. Perhaps I'll ask around."
Duv nodded. "At the party—that means she's not confined to the North Wing where she died."
"She was wearing the same outfit, though," Delia said. "Same hairstyle. Which is not the outfit and style she died in—she'd come from Vordarian's bed."
"I didn't know that," Duv said, intrigued.
"What, Mama's never told you the story of rescuing baby Miles and killing the Pretender?" Delia asked, surprised. "Ask her—or Da—next time we see them. They both tell their parts of the story well. They were both on that raid, you know, though Da had to escort Lady Alys and baby Ivan to safety and wasn't there for the end parts."
"I will definitely do that," Duv said, and Delia smiled. She always appreciated when Duv-the-historian poked out from the focused ImpSec analyst; he was cute, and a little softer than normal. "Back to the ghost, though, I wonder what she wants. If this were a Komarran ghost story, she'd be looking for someone to possess, to try and regain her life."
"If this were a Barrayaran ghost story, she'd be looking for some way to take her revenge on the traitor who wronged her," Delia said.
"She's too late for that," Duv pointed out. "Vordarian and his top men either died fighting or were executed. Nobody left to take vengeance on."
"In Mama's stories, she doesn't seem to me the type of person who'd lay in wait for bloody revenge, either," Delia said. "Too practical. Too focused on surviving and protecting Gregor."
Duv hummed and nodded, still halfway in his history professor mindset. "Have you noticed any similarities between the encounters?"
"I've been thinking about that," Delia said. "Other than her clothing and the first two happening in the North Wing where she died, the only commonality is the presence of Madam Vorreedi."
"Vorreedi?" Duv said. "I don't know her."
"She's Dowager Countess Vorlakial's favorite granddaughter," Delia said, "and the only one who lives in the capital, so she's in our offices fairly regularly—her grandmother is an excellent hostess, but not always as organized or timely as one might wish. Stasia Vorlakial was one of the top candidates for Gregor's hand, when Lady Alys first started seriously pushing him to marry; her father's District is wealthy and populous, she's pretty, and marrying her would have given Gregor a bit more influence to keep her father in line. He never gave her any serious attention, though, and eventually she turned her attention to other potential husbands. She was ambitious, but not terribly so; she turned down Lord Vormorin when he asked her to marry him."
"Smart woman," Duv said.
"It doesn't matter how large and glittering your parties are if you're miserable and mistreated whenever you're not in public," Delia agreed. Lord—now Count—Vormorin's temper and vices were well known. "Anyway, he responded by spreading rumors about her that caused at least two prospective suitors to back off. She eventually married slightly beneath her—an untitled high Vor who'd used his allowance and the family influence to go into business, and done quite well for himself. From what her grandmother tells me, it's a stable relationship, and she's already plotting her oldest daughter's entrance to the social scene in a few years. Her bloodline plus her husband's money should make for quite a splash on the marriage market."
"What's Madam Vorreedi like as a person?" Duv asked.
Delia shrugged. "I don't know her well; we've been at a lot of the same parties, and she comes to visit her grandmother any excuse she gets, but we were never part of the same set and she's a few years older than I am. Her friends are all snobs; she probably is too, because these days even a High Vor can't maintain a Vor-only social circle by accident. But she never made any of the cutting remarks or open snubs that her friends did."
"All in all, she sounds like a fairly ordinary Vor lady," Duv said.
"She is," Delia said. "If she is a common factor, I've no idea what would draw Princess Kareen's ghost to her." If Madam Vorreedi were being abused, or harassed, or was having to trade on her looks and body to survive, that might be one thing; Delia knew enough of the truth about Princess Kareen's life to know the woman her mother had served would probably want to look out for someone suffering the same way she had. But as far as Delia knew, Madam Vorreedi had a perfectly ordinary and satisfying life, albeit a rung or two down the social ladder from where she might have expected to end up. And Delia was quite certain that if there was abuse or other serious problems in Madam Vorreedi's marriage, Dowager Countess Vorlakial would have at least hinted at it.
"Does she look like anyone Princess Kareen might have known or cared about?"
"Not that I know," Delia said. "I don't think the Princess had many friends, by the end; no sisters, not close with her brothers, and Serg's jealousy kept her from getting close to people after she married him." Delia considered, and remembered her earlier comment about revenge. "Madam Vorreedi is the Pretender's cousin once removed, and she does have the Vordarian profile."
Duv waived a hand. "That could also describe at least ten percent of the people at the party tonight, given Vor inbreeding."
"True," Delia said.
"On the subject of looking like people, you look a lot like your mother did at your age," Duv pointed out. "Maybe that's why the ghost is showing up to you now. Your mother rarely attends events at the Residence these days … but you do."
"Why would a ghost need a bodyguard?" Delia asked. She turned back the covers and climbed into bed.
"I have no idea," Duv said, climbing in the other side of the bed.
Delia settled in and closed her eyes. She was drifting off to sleep when she realized. "What if it's not the ghost that needs a bodyguard?" she asked. "What if there's some danger to Gregor? Mama was his bodyguard, too."
"He wasn't even in the same town as the ghost tonight, though," Duv said. "But I'll ask them to bump up the alert level on his security, temporarily."
The next day, Delia called her mother.
"Princess Kareen's ghost?" Mama said, in some surprise. "I know you girls used to try to scare yourselves with stories about her, but nobody else ever saw her." There was a hint of wistfulness in her voice.
"Did you want to see her?" Delia asked.
"I'd prefer her rest was undisturbed of course," Mama said. "But I wouldn't mind seeing her one last time, to say good-bye. Everything was so frantic, the morning she died. It was so sudden."
"You're welcome to come visit me at the Residence, of course," Delia said. Mama had a better right to be there, as the Emperor's former bodyguard, than any of the guests the rest of the social secretaries invited in. "I can't guarantee she'll show up while you're there, but you can try."
"I may do that," Mama said.
"What do you think she wants?" Delia asked. "There's nobody left to take revenge on."
"No," Mama said. "Between Emperor Ezar and your Tante Cordelia and her own actions, nobody who did her serious wrong outlived her. As to any other motivation to leave her grave …" Mama sighed. "It's hard to say. By the time I knew her, she had pared herself down to the essentials. Of the things she wanted and needed, she was permitted so little. Her entire focus, when I knew her, was to protect Gregor and herself, in that order, as much as she was able to. Everything else was … only on the surface."
What a sad life it must have been. Mama had been careful, when they were little, not to say too much about Kareen's life that didn't fit with what was publicly known. In particular, Delia didn't know that she'd ever heard her mother mention the late Prince Serg more than in passing. Which, when you added that to all the little hints Delia had put together as an adult, was telling.
"I'll let you know if I think of anything," Mama said.
"Thank you," Delia said.
Delia started asking discreetly around, and found that while other people had, on occasion, seen something out of the corner of their eye that might have been the ghost of Princess Kareen, she was the only one who had seen her fully and recognized her for who she was.
"Hardly surprising that she'd haunt this wing, new though it is," Dowager Countess Vorlakial said. "Poor dear. Though at least she's not in the private portions where the Emperor might have to deal with the unquiet ghost of his mother roaming the halls when he's trying to sleep."
"We should probably burn an offering," Delia said. "And I'll have to tell the Emperor," she realized. "He'll probably want to burn an offering, too." Gregor had been raised by Tante Cordelia, and her cool Betan logic had been even more of an influence on him than on Delia and her sisters; she didn't know if he believed in ghosts or not. Still, he should know and have the chance to make the decision to burn an offering himself. For the first time, she realized she should have asked him what he wanted before mentioning his mother's ghost to others. Now that a few people knew, it would spread; and if he didn't burn an offering, there would be talk.
"Your mother was quite close to her," the Dowager Countess said. "So was Lady Alys. They should know, so that they can burn an offering; and either would know if there is anyone else who should be notified." She sighed. "It's been so long, and I was never of the Princess's set; I can't think who else should be notified besides her brother, Count Vorinnis. Lady Alys would probably be best for that, as a friend of the Princess." After the dinner party, Lady Alys had gone to attend a house party given by Count Vorpatril in his District. Several of the leading lights of the Conservative Party were also in attendance, and while Lady Alys would make little headway on political matters, her presence would nevertheless serve as a conduit for unofficial contact between the factions, providing a bit of the social glue that kept the Council of Counts as functional as it ever was.
"I'll ask her," Delia said.
"This is news that should be broken in person," Lady Alys said over the comconsole. "He'll be back in a few days—do you want me to come and tell him?"
"No," Delia said. "I'm the one who's seen her, so he'll probably want to talk to me anyways. You should stay with your cousin." For all that Tante Alys liked to talk about stepping back and handing responsibility to Laisa and her staff, she had a hard time actually doing it. Delia knew from experience that if Alys came back now, she would dive back into work beyond just notifying Gregor of the ghost, never mind that she was supposed to be on vacation. On more than one occasion, it had taken Uncle Simon to extract Tante Alys from the Residence when she was supposed to be on vacation.
"Very well," Lady Alys said. "I'll give you a list of Kareen's close friends—though I warn you, it isn't long. Kareen kept most people at arms' length until they had proven themselves trustworthy; she had many allies, and many hangers-on, but few true friends. Nobody she would regret losing if their husbands joined factions opposed to Ezar."
In other words, Delia noted to herself, nobody whose husbands might support Serg. Delia enjoyed the social whirl of the capital, loved the dresses and the music and the parties, and above all she loved the exercise of soft power, influencing Barrayar's upper classes through social levers. But her life didn't depend on it, and if she'd wanted to do something else she could have done almost anything she wanted. Kareen had played the same game with less freedom and higher stakes. "Well," Delia said. "It's just as well—Gregor will probably want something small and intimate."
People walked around the North Wing a bit more cautiously as they waited for Gregor to come and burn his offering, though nobody saw Princess Kareen in the meantime, not even Delia.
"Usually, when people ask to see me, they don't get an appointment without telling my secretary at least the general gist of what they want," Gregor observed neutrally. He and Laisa were seated on one of the two couches in his office; Delia was sitting in the other, directly across from them. "If this were a matter of social planning, you would not have been this coy with Kevi."
"It's a personal matter, Sire," Delia said. "I've seen a ghost in the North Wing and some salons in the East Block. Nobody else has got a good look at it, but others have seen little bits of it."
"A ghost," Gregor said. He glanced at Laisa, then back to Delia. "Whose ghost?"
"Your mother, Sire," Delia said. "It was unmistakably Princess Kareen."
Gregor turned his head and looked at a landscape painting on the wall, reaching out blindly to grasp Laisa's hand. "Have you burned an offering yet?"
"Not in the Residence," Delia said. "By the time I realized what was going on, you were going to be back soon, and we thought we should wait."
"Very considerate of you," he said, quietly, the way he had when they were children and he was tired or hurting and didn't want to show it. With his face turned away, she couldn't tell any more than that.
"I've read about offerings, of course," Laisa said, and Delia blessed her silently for speaking and allowing her husband time to compose himself, "but I've never seen one. Should I come? Should I burn something, too? In this context, what is it for?"
"It's for a number of things," Delia said, when Gregor didn't answer. "Respect, remembrance, appeasement—a loved one might burn an offering to provide comfort to the spirit; an enemy might burn an offering to try and convince the ghost to leave them alone. You could burn something if you wanted; as her daughter-in-law it's your responsibility to see that a proper offering is made, but not necessarily to do it yourself. And to help your children with it until they're old enough to make an offering themselves."
Laisa nodded.
"Have you plotted out exactly where she died, or as close as we can get to it?" Gregor asked, still looking at the painting.
"Yes, sire," Delia said. "It's a conference room, now."
Gregor nodded.
"Would you like a private ceremony, or will you allow the staff to be present?" Delia turned to Laisa. "None of us knew her, but as people who work in the places where her ghost has been, many of the staff would like to pay our respects."
"I'd like it to be private," Gregor said. "Just the family, and Count Vorinnis and Lady Alys and Drou if they want to come. The staff can make their own offerings at another time."
"Of course, Sire," Delia said.
"Is the staff scared of the ghost?" Laisa asked, afterwards, when she and Delia had retreated to Laisa's office.
"Many are," Delia said. "Either about what the ghost might do, or about the bad luck ghosts often bring with them."
"You're not afraid, though," Laisa said, looking her up and down.
"No," Delia said. "My mother was her bodyguard, and probably her closest confidant. She's an ancestor in my family shrine. I doubt she'd do anything to hurt me, and ghosts are only bad luck when they're other peoples' ghosts. Or when you don't light proper offerings."
"Gregor didn't look afraid, to me," Laisa said. "He looked sad."
"She was his mother," Delia said. "Nobody wants to think of someone they loved being driven or called out of their grave."
"Of course," Laisa said. "Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Not much besides burning offerings for her," Delia said.
The conversation turned to upcoming social events, where they were in the planning for them, and what Laisa's specific hostessing duties would be at each of them.
"And we might want to have a garden party next summer," Delia said towards the end. "It's too late to get one onto the schedule for this year, but it's been noted that we haven't done one in some time."
"You have a specific type of party for gardens?" Laisa asked, delighted as she often was by some minutia of etiquette that was different from Komarr's. "Of course you do. The idea is charming. Tell me more about what they're like—or, no, we don't have time today," she said, checking her chrono. "And next summer is a ways off, yet."
"Of course," Delia said, gathering her materials.
"I'm sorry to cut this short," Laisa said. "I've only got two hours to read a whole briefing book, before my meeting with the Minister of Galactic Trade. I think I'm finally making some headway with him, but every time I don't have even the smallest fact perfectly to hand in the moment, I can just see him start to doubt."
"Good luck," Delia said.
"Oh, I don't need luck," Laisa said. "Preparation and a solid strategy beat luck every time—especially now that I'm Empress and he can't just dismiss my ideas even when he wants to."
Delia wasn't invited to the Emperor's offering, and Lady Alys handled the arrangements; Count Vorinnis and her mother and Lady Alys joined the Emperor the next day in the conference room that was now where the hall Kareen had died in used to be.
Empress Laisa wasn't present; the Crown Prince had been deemed too young to make an offering himself, although a lock of his hair would be burned along with his father's and a gene scan of the younger brother who was currently gestating in a uterine replicator. Laisa would be with him, instead of making an offering herself. Not that she was needed for childcare, but it was an acceptable excuse for her not to be present. Count Vorinnis was currently a vocal opponent of one of Laisa's policy proposals, and nobody wanted politics to intrude.
After they were done, the room was left available for anyone who worked in that wing to make an offering of their own; another brazier was set up in the gardens outside for the rest of the staff.
Delia made another offering, of course; actually, she made two, one in the conference room and one at home.
The offering in the conference room was merely the standard lock of hair; perfectly unexceptionable, perfectly correct in etiquette.
The offering in the ancestor shrine at home was different. "You didn't die in vain, Princess Kareen," Delia murmured, watching the flimsies burn. "Your son's rule is stable, he's happy and healthy, and his wife is a wonderful woman who's not trapped as you were."
"Can I ask what you burned?" Duv asked when she was done. "Or is that private?"
"It can be," Delia said. "What the offerings mean is private, but not always the objects themselves. But I don't mind. This time, I burned an ImpSec security bulletin for the Residence with a low threat level, and a copy of the upcoming social schedule, and one of Laisa's policy proposals."
Duv thought about that for a minute. "The security bulletin, to show that her son is safe and his throne secure," he said slowly. "The social schedule, because she was a noted hostess?"
Delia nodded.
"I don't understand the policy proposal, though," Duv admitted.
"Princess Kareen's live was very … circumscribed," Delia said. "I wanted her to see that her daughter-in-law isn't restricted, the way Kareen was. I think she'd like to know things are better now. I would, if I were her."
Nobody saw the ghost again for another week or so after that, and people started to relax. Madam Vorreedi had visited a few times and there had been no apparitions following her around. Delia still kept an eye out, but then, it was her job to be observant and alert for anything out of place.
It was good that people were settling down; the fall session of the Council of Counts was starting in less than a month and the High Vor were trickling back into the capital. And of course Tante Alys was back, and she would never permit superstition to interfere in the running of their office, especially not at such a crucial time. The number and variety of social events at the Residence was beginning to pick back up, although they wouldn't be into the full whirl of things until the Council Opening Ball marked the opening of the social calendar. Which meant things were very busy in the offices of the social secretaries.
Not only with the official business of organizing everything, but with the social lives of the staff. Most of them had a daughter or sister or niece or cousin or friend or someone who was looking for a husband, and the connections and information that came with their work were definite advantages in the marriage market. As long as it didn't affect their work or the Emperor's political moves, Lady Alys didn't care.
"I've lost track," Delia admitted to Dowager Countess Vorlakial as they chatted before a meeting. "Do you have a granddaughter coming out this year?"
"Yes, my youngest," the Dowager Countess said with a smile. "Lysl. Her first ball will be the Council Opening Ball. Stasia has taken her under her wing, and is being such a help."
Delia almost asked why she wasn't attending the ball that Countess Vormorin had just announced she would be hosting three days before the Council Opening Ball. It had surprised everyone, and there were all sorts of rumors flying about the musicians and the decorations and the refreshments—there was supposed to be some sort of surprise, which Delia was deeply curious about. It was an obvious attempt to undermine the primacy of the Council Opening Ball as the start of the social season, and it seemed to be working; it was currently the most sought-after invitation in Vorbarr Sultana. But of course no Vorlakial had gone to a social event hosted by now-Count Vormorin since the disastrous end to his courtship of Stasia Vorlakial.
"Madam Vorreedi has excellent taste, and I'm sure she'll be quite a help."
"I'm so lucky to have her," Dowager Countess Vorlakial said. "I'm getting too old to both work here and chaperone a girl around town during the season; and Lysl's mother … well."
Lysl Vorlakial's mother had been born a prole, the daughter of a wealthy industrialist, and a good match for a younger son who would not be inheriting and had no particular martial aptitudes. But she had never quite mastered the nuances of the High Vor social scene. "If you're thinking about retiring, do let us know ahead of time," Delia said. "You would be difficult to replace." It wasn't just her skills and connections that would be missed; anyone of similar rank they brought in might think that she would be the one to take over from Tante Alys when she retired, with prole Delia stuck as a permanent assistant. Dowager Countess Vorlakial had no such ambitions and was content that, when the time came, she would pass seamlessly from being Lady Alys's deputy to Delia's.
"That's kind of you to say, dear, and I will try not to blind-side you when the time comes," she said. "But I'm not planning on stepping down any time soon."
The meeting started; it was a simple run-down of where they were in the arrangements for the Council Opening Ball. Everything was right on schedule, and the only issues so far were minor ones.
"Should we consider expanding the event in some way?" one of the junior members of the team said hesitantly once the reports were done. "Countess Vormorin is … sort of stealing the Emperor's thunder."
"And that should by all means be avoided, if possible," Tante Alys said briskly. "Does anyone have suggestions?"
"It would have to be something extravagant," Delia said. "There's no point in upending our schedule at this late date for something mediocre."
Unsurprisingly, several people had interesting suggestions; Lady Alys's staff was very good. A list of possibilities was created, and once they'd run out of ideas they evaluated each one. None had the right mix of being both impressive enough and something they could pull off in time, though several got noted down as ideas for future events.
"It's better to save the impressiveness for a future event than risk something going wrong at the Council Opening Ball," Lady Alys said at last. "We shall keep our existing plans for the Ball, and focus on making Winterfair an event that no mere Countess could upstage." The meeting broke up soon after, although a number of people stayed to chat.
Delia didn't leave immediately; it was close to the end of the work day, and everything left in her inbox could wait a day or two, which made it a perfect time for informal chats and touching bases with people. She was in the middle of a conversation with one of the under-secretaries when Princess Kareen appeared in the doorway, eyes wide and full of tears, staring at Delia.
"Madam Galeni?" the under-secretary said.
"Sorry," Delia said, tearing her eyes away from the ghost. She answered the under-secretary's question and the woman thanked her and left.
"You look as though you've seen a ghost," Dowager Countess Vorlakial said, voice filled with foreboding.
"I have," Delia said quietly. "She was just here. In the doorway." And Madam Vorreedi wasn't. Which eliminated that common thread of the encounters.
"And from the look of her, young Velana did as well," Vorlakial said, nodding at someone over Delia's shoulder.
Delia looked, and sure enough, Velana Vorbretten—one of the many junior secretaries—was pale and staring at the doorway. Delia and Vorlakial went over to her.
"You saw her?" Velana said.
"Yes," Delia said. "You needn't be scared. I don't think she's out for revenge; everyone she might have wanted revenge on has been dead for three decades, at this point. And all the times I've seen her, she's never seemed violent."
"It's not that," Velana said. "It's just … she was so sad."
"Well, this is near where she died," Delia pointed out. It was next door to the room they'd done the offerings in.
"One wonders why she appeared now, though," Dowager Countess Vorlakial said. "Princess Kareen was a great hostess, but I would expect her to haunt parties, not planning sessions."
"Maybe she's upset that her son's ball is being upstaged?" Velana said.
"I doubt that even such a noted hostess as the Princess would find that a tragedy worth coming out of her grave for," Delia said.
"And Princess Kareen's response to someone challenging her place as head of the social scene was not to grieve, but to demolish the opposition and put them in their place," the Dowager Countess said. "Well! It is something to consider."
As Delia and Vorlakial left the conference room, they found Madam Vorreedi and her cousin Lysl waiting.
"Grandmama!" Lysl said, practically bouncing on her toes. "I do hope we're not intruding—Stasia said it would be fine to visit you here—I couldn't wait to show you what the gowns are going to look like!"
"Of course, dear," the Dowager Countess said indulgently.
So, Delia thought to herself. Kareen is connected to Madam Vorreedi in some way.
"I still have no idea what the connection might be," Delia said that night to Duv.
"Neither do I," Duv said. "I pulled her file." ImpSec had files on every girl who'd been considered as a match for Gregor. "Nothing out of the ordinary, no connection to the Princess that I could see, no disaffection or connection to any groups on our watchlist. She serves as her husband's hostess, she has no job of her own but sits on the board of several charities, and her major hobby is gardening—she's a member of the Vorbarr Sultana Horticultural Guild. Her file hasn't been updated in some time, beyond the ordinary sort of biographical detail we keep track of in all High Vor."
Delia shrugged. "I don't see that there's anything to be done besides keep making offerings for Kareen and keep my eyes open."
Duv nodded.
"Any Komarran words of wisdom for dealing with a ghost?"
"Not really," Duv said. "Or, there might be some, but I don't know it. I was too busy as a kid to spend much time listening to ghost stories and folk tales."
Delia knew what he had been doing, and changed the subject.
The day of Countess Vormorin's ball was a busy one for Delia; there was a presentation of awards to a selection of students who had done noteworthy projects in the morning, and tea in the afternoon in honor of the Vordrozda Center for the Performing Arts. Since Madam Vorreedi was on the board of Vordrozda Center, Delia was on alert.
Gregor had done the awards in the morning, and Laisa was doing the tea; they sometimes split the minor events up like that, so that both could maximize their time doing more important work.
The tea went smoothly. The food was good, the speeches went well, the conversation flowed easily. Once the programmed aspect of the event was done and all that was left was the socializing, Delia circulated among the ladies, nurturing the connections that her work required.
She was in the middle of a conversation on the latest fashions—gloves seemed to be coming back in style—when a flash of green caught her eye, and she excused herself to look around.
Princess Kareen's ghost was looking in through the windows, face contorted with emotion, mouth working as if she were trying to speak. The hum of conversation and the clink of teacups and saucers faded from Delia's ears, and she turned to follow where the ghost was looking.
She seemed to be looking at Madam Vorreedi and Laisa, who were speaking together. Delia stared, trying to see what was agitating Princess Kareen.
There! Almost without thinking, Delia took three long steps and grabbed Madam Vorreedi's gloved wrist.
"Madam Galeni, what are you doing?" Madam Vorreedi said. "Let go of me."
Laisa, eyes wide, had backed up a few steps, and the crowd was beginning to turn to watch the altercation.
"Of course," Delia said quietly. "After you drop whatever's in your hand. You don't want to make a scene, do you? Your grandmother would be so disappointed."
"I—it's only a leaf," Madam Vorreedi said.
"Then you won't mind if ImpSec scans it," Delia said. "Show it to me."
Madam Vorreedi turned her hand over and opened it. Delia sucked in a breath. That was Rosy Corpseweed. It was a native Barrayaran plant, and it was deadly. It was also rare, and native to the South Continent; if Delia hadn't had to undergo basic security training to work in the Residence, she'd never have known what it was. There was no way for it to have gotten here, to Vorbarr Sultana, by accident.
Delia looked up at the armsman who had come to see what the trouble was, and angled Madam Vorreedi's hand so he could see what was in it.
His eyes went wide and his hand fell to the stunner on his hip. At a hand signal, an ImpSec guard approached. "Madam, you will come with us now."
Delia relinquished Madam Vorreedi's hand and let the two security men take her away. She looked up to see if Kareen was still there. She was; there were tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. She nodded, and Delia nodded back. Then Princess Kareen turned and vanished. There were a few gasps throughout the room.
That ought to be good for a public-relations boost for Laisa, Delia thought to herself. People seeing Princess Kareen's ghost working to protect her Komarran daughter-in-law. She wondered if she should wash her hands; she couldn't remember how deadly the poison was, or how much contact you needed for an effect. And there was no way to know how much residue might have been on Madam Vorreedi's gloves.
"Thank you, Madam Galeni," Laisa said. "That leaf she had, it was poisonous?"
"Yes," Delia said.
Another Vorbarra armsman was at Laisa's side now. "Ma'am, we should take you to a secure location." ImpSec officers were flooding into the room and Delia sighed at the thought of the hours of paperwork and reports she'd have to make.
"Of course," Laisa said.
"I haven't seen the report, yet," Duv said that evening. Being head of Komarran Affairs, a purely home-grown assassination attempt was outside his field. "Have they figured out why she targeted Laisa? Was she jealous that she didn't get to be Empress?"
"Not really," Delia said. She considered. "Sort of. Actually, it mostly seems to be resentment of Countess Vormorin."
"But she turned down the chance to be Countess Vormorin, and she hates Count Vormorin," Duv said, baffled.
"She's not jealous, she just thinks the entire Vormorin family should be humbled and humiliated after the way they spoiled her chances," Delia said. "Apparently, she's been quietly furious that Countess Vormorin is the rising star in the Vorbarr Sultana social scene, and that Laisa hasn't been entertaining on a scale to leave Vormorin in the dust. By killing her, she'd cast a pall over any entertainment Countess Vormorin tried to hold, and also open up the field so that Gregor might marry someone else—someone who might put Countess Vormorin in her place. And Count Vormorin with her."
Duv shook his head. "Why didn't she try to poison Countess Vormorin? Or the Count himself? That would solve the problem more directly."
"Couldn't get close enough," Delia said. "Everyone in town knows about the Vorlakial/Vormorin feud, and what caused it. If Stasia Vorlakial Vorreedi showed up to an event that Count and Countess Vormorin were at, everyone would be watching. Not that anybody would have suspected assassination, but it would be the hottest gossip in town. What I don't understand is why she was willing to hurt her family this way—she has to know what it will do to their standing, and especially her cousin Lysl who is supposed to make her debut this year."
"She probably thought nobody would have connected it with her," Duv said. "Rosy Corpseweed is deadly, but doesn't act quickly, and it's not on the standard tox screens because it's so rare. If she managed to smuggle the leaf out with her the same way she smuggled it in, nobody would have known when and how Laisa was exposed to it, even after we'd figured out she was poisoned."
"It's such a flimsy plan," Delia said. "And even with her explanation I'm not sure why she fixated on the Empress."
"People do crazy things, sometimes," Duv said. "It's what makes security work so difficult—if only everyone committed treason sensibly, my job would be a lot easier."
"I'm glad I don't have your job," she said. "Mine is quite enough for me."
"Oh, I don't know, you did a good enough job today," Duv said. "Your mother will be proud."
"And probably sorry she wasn't there to see the Princess," Delia said. "They were very close." She paused. "I wonder if we'll see the ghost again, or if Princess Kareen will rest easier now her daughter-in-law is out of danger."
"It'll be interesting to see," Duv said. "But I guarantee you that if she does show up again, ImpSec and the Vorbarra armsmen will be on high alert."
"Listened to in death the way she wasn't in life," Delia said with a sigh.
The next day came a painful interview with Dowager Countess Vorlakial. Tante Alys hosted the three of them in her apartments, not in the Residence. The Dowager Countess had been cleared with fast-penta and had known nothing about her granddaughter's plans, but if they met in their usual offices in the Residence, there would be gossip.
Dowager Countess Vorlakial looked as if she had aged five years overnight. Her toilette was impeccable as always, but her face was gray and drawn.
"I'm so very sorry, Lady Alys," she said, eyes fixed on the teacup in her hands. "I should have known. We've always been close, and I dine with her family at least once a week."
"She herself said she knew you would not approve her plans, and also that she did not want you to be implicated if she were caught," Tante Alys said.
"I thought I knew her," the Dowager Countess said. "I thought … I knew she was restless, and a bit bored; her husband doesn't entertain on the scale she would like, you know. They could afford more, but he only cares for the sort of parties that will make connections for his company. When their children are of an age to be launched in society that will change, but in the meantime, I encouraged her to be more active in her charity work and come to events at the Residence. All of the fun and none of the work. And I knew she'd never let go of her hatred of Vormorin, and honestly I don't blame her after what he said about her. But I still don't see—none of that was the Emperor's fault, and it certainly wasn't Empress Laisa's!" She shook her head. "I just can't believe she'd do such a thing."
Delia thought that Stasia Vorreedi might have been better off with some occupation other than being a Vor Lady. Something to do with her time besides run a household and work the social scene and coo over her children when the nanny brought them in for inspection. Take classes, get a job, something that would have given her more to do than fret over a decade-old slander and drawn her out into the larger world where nobody cared about it. But Delia didn't say anything; what was the point, at this late date? The Vorlakials were conservative, but even if they'd been willing to support their daughter in some novel endeavor, she doubted Stasia herself would ever have chosen it. She was too much a woman of her class, too conscious of her heritage. Kareen had been trapped by her position and her husband and the time she had lived in. Stasia Vorreedi had been trapped mostly by her own pride.
"The question is, what now?" Tante Alys said, not unkindly.
"My son has already disowned her," the Dowager Countess said. "And Vorreedi has begun divorce proceedings. I may be given custody of her daughters—nobody else in the family wants them, and it's not their fault, poor dears. Lysl will postpone her debut, to give things time to settle down." She drew herself up and met Lady Alys's eyes for the first time since sitting down. "And of course I shall be resigning my post. I am so sorry, Lady Alys, for the scandal I have inadvertently brought to your office."
"We shall miss you, dear Lady Genevie," Tante Alys said.
"It wasn't your fault," Delia said. "Nobody could have predicted that her curdled hate and jealousy of the Vormarins would result in treason against the Empress. And yes, we'll miss you; you'll be very hard to replace."
"That's very kind of you to say," the Dowager Countess said bleakly. "But whether it's true or not won't stop people saying otherwise."
"I wish you well in all your endeavors," Lady Alys said. "If you should need anything, don't hesitate to ask. Your granddaughter's treason does not outweigh your loyal service."
Once the Dowager Countess had left, Delia turned to Tante Alys. "How do you think Princess Kareen knew, when no one else did?"
"Princess Kareen was a very astute woman," Tante Alys said. "She always did know better than anybody else what was happening in the Residence; it was how she was as effective as she was, despite everything. And of course she loved her son very much."
"Of course," Delia said. "Let's hope she alerts us again, if there's another threat nobody notices."
"Let's hope that isn't necessary," Tante Alys said tartly.
"I'm not quite that naïve," Delia said. "ImpSec does its best, but nobody—and no intelligence service—is perfect." She changed the subject. "How do you think this will affect the Council Opening Ball tomorrow?"
Tante Alys grimaced. "Besides the gossip and Lady Genevie's departure leaving us shorthanded, it will affect several of the political alliances in the Council of Counts," she said.
Delia grimaced and began thinking through the likely chain of reactions, and she and Tante Alys began working up a plan to mitigate—and take advantage of—the fractures. She wondered if Princess Kareen, the legendary hostess, was watching over this, too, and hoped she was happy with their efforts.