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look.
Thank God, thought Cordelia.
"On a horse, I could go as fast as anybody, I bet," said Miles.
"I doubt it," said Piotr coldly, "if that was a sample. If you're going to do
it, you have to do it right."
"Teach me," said Miles instantly.
Piotr's brows shot up. He glanced at Cordelia, and smiled sourly. "If your
mother gives permission." He rocked on his heels, in certain smug safety,
knowing Cordelias rooted antipathy to the beasts.
Cordelia bit her tongue on Over my dead body, and thought fast. Aral's intent
eyes were signaling something, but she couldn't read it. Was this a new way
for Piotr to try and kill Miles? Take him out and get him smashed, trampled,
broken . . . tired out? Now there was a thought. ...
Risk, or security? In the few months since Miles had at last acquired a full
range of motion, she'd run on panicked overdrive, trying to save him from
physical harm; he'd spent the same time near-frantically trying to escape her
supervision. Much more of this struggle, and either she'd be insane, or he
would.
If she could not keep him safe, perhaps the next best thing was to teach him
competence at living dangerously. He was almost undrownable already. His big
grey eyes were radiating a desperate, silent plea at her, Let me, let me, let
me . . . with enough transmission energy to burn through steel. I would fight
the world for you, but I'm damned if I can figure out how to save you from
yourself. Go for it, kid.
"Yes," she said. "If the sergeant accompanies you."
Bothari shot her a look of horrified reproach. Aral rubbed his chin, his eyes
alight. Piotr looked utterly taken aback to have his bluff called.
"Good," said Miles. "Can I have my own horse? Can I have that one?"
"No, not that one," said Piotr indignantly. Then drawn in, added, "Perhaps a
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pony."
"Horse," said Miles, watching his face.
Cordelia recognized the Instant Re-Negotiation Mode, a spinal reflex, as far
as she could tell, triggered by the faintest concession. The kid should be put
to work beating out treaties with the Cetagandans. She wondered how many
horses he'd finally end up with. "A pony," she put in, giving Piotr the
support that he did not yet recognize how badly he was going to need. "A
gentle pony. A gentle short pony."
Piotr pursed his lips, and gave her a challenging look. "Perhaps you can work
up to a horse," he said to Miles. "Earn it, by learning well."
"Can I start now?"
"You have to get your arm set first," said Cordelia firmly.
"I don't have to wait till it heals, do I?"
"It will teach you not to run around breaking things!"
Piotr regarded Cordelia through half-lidded eyes. "Actually, proper dressage
training starts on a lunge line. You aren't permitted to use your arms till
you've developed your seat."
"Yeah?" said Miles, hanging worshipfully on his words. "What else-?"
By the time Cordelia withdrew to hunt up the personal physician who
accompanied the Lord Regent's traveling circus, ah, entourage, Piotr had
recaptured his horse- rather efficiently, though Cordelia wondered if the
sugar in his pockets was cheating-and was already explaining to Miles how to
make a simple line into an effective halter, which side of the beast to stand
on, and what direction to face while leading. The boy, barely waist-high to
the old man, was taking it in like a sponge, upturned face passionately
intent.
"Want to lay a side-bet, who's leading who on that lunge line by the end of
the week?" Aral murmured in her ear.
"No contest. I must say, the months Miles spent immobilized in that dreadful
spinal brace did teach him how to do charm. The most efficient long-
term way to control those about you, and thus exert your will. I'm glad he
didn't decide to perfect whining as a strategy. He's the most willful little
monster I've ever encountered, but he makes you not notice."
"I don't think the Count has a chance," Aral agreed.
She smiled at the vision, then glanced at him more seriously. "When my father
was home on leave one time from the Betan Astronomical Survey, we made model
gliders together. Two things were required to get them to fly. First we had to
give them a running start. Then we had to let them go." She sighed.
"Learning just when to let go was the hardest part."
Piotr, his horse, Bothari, and Miles turned out of sight into the barn. By his
gestures, Miles was asking questions at a rapid-fire rate.
Aral gripped her hand as they turned to go up the hill. "I believe he'll soar
high, dear Captain."
AUTHOR'S AFTERWORD
I was asked by my publisher if I would like to contribute a preface to
Cordelia's Honor. Upon reflection, I decided I'd rather write an afterword.
For one thing, it was a horrifying thought that anything at all should further
delay new readers from meeting my characters; secondly, discursive comments
about a book make ever so much more sense after people have read it.
I'd like to thank Baen Books for this combined edition of Shards of Honor and
Barrayar. Here at last in one set of covers is the whole story arc, very much
as I originally conceived its shape, if not its details. As a longtime series
reader, and now writer, I'm very aware of the pitfalls of what I've come to
believe is another story form, as distinct from the novel as the novel is from
the short story. A proper series in this sense is neither an extension of the
novel (as in the multi-volume single story) nor a replication (as when
essentially the same story is told over and over, cookie-cutter fashion), but
another animal altogether, with its own internal demands. In addition, one
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must assume that readers, as I did when reading my own favorite series, will
encounter the books in utterly random order. Therefore each series novel must
simultaneously be a complete tale in itself, and uphold its unique place in
the growing structure; it must be two books at once. The understructure must
be global and timeless as well as linear and sequential. The series landscape
must satisfy its readers regardless of what direction they chance to travel
through it, or how often.
I had no more idea of all this when I started writing the Vorkosigan series
than I had of what my own life would be like when I started living it. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]