Miles woke before the sun, in the hopes that he would have a little time to himself. The sunset flight to the Surleau had gone off without incident. He'd shared a lightflyer with Alex; sleep had eluded both of them, so Alex took the opportunity to place a trans-temporal call to his wife, Jeanne. Miles had been left to contemplate the status of his own Lady Vorkosigan. Or lack thereof.

Pym was waiting for him outside the door. "The whole house must be asleep," said Miles, as they checked each other's stunners.

"Actually, no, m'lord. Madame Vorsoisson is up and about. A few others, as well." Miles was tempted to see what Ekaterin was up to, but he figured she might also want some time to herself.

The air was crisp and clear. Miles strolled at first towards the long lake. Then he spotted his father in the pavilion, taking his coffee. Climbing the hill, he noticed that there were no guards about. It was peculiar for the Viceroy. An artistic assassination plot suddenly came to mind--- Miles shook his head. Damn pentacrine.

As Miles sat, the Count motioned to Pym. The Armsman hung back, requesting a second cup of coffee over the comm link. No stolen sips today; no one was taking chances.

They sat in silence for some time. A bit of sun cleared the trees and mountains, and threw a soft glow across the lake waters.

Miles broke the quiet. "If we get through this, do you think we'll still end up in Raina's future?"

Count Vorkosigan raised his eyebrows. "Does it matter? As I understand it, within this time fragment, you and I will never know. There is some merit in sacrificing something for a possible future. But very little honor in sacrificing everything for it."

"You still don't believe them."

"We've never seen Sebastian. There's no hard evidence that he actually exists. We can only take their word for it."

"But Allegre confirmed it. They're my children, genetically. And Ekaterin's."

The Count drank deeply from his cup. "You know, Miles, your brother Mark came to us under very different circumstances. Though it was just as sudden. It put us all to the test."

Miles felt a twinge of guilt. You couldn't help it, you were busy being dead at the time.

"It's unfair to make comparisons, as your mother reminded me," Aral continued. "But there must be some lesson to be learned."

"Sir, after ten years in ImpSec, I don't think that adding another layer of suspicion helps the situation. I know what relatives can do to you." The Count winced at that. "I believe they've proven their honor, time and again."

Count Vorkosigan frowned. "You cannot harbor any illusions about them. The two women are all right, but the twins… they are murderers, Miles. You can't hesitate when it comes to them."

"We're all killers," said a voice. Miles started up, stunner in hand. It was Raina. Even Pym was startled. She was dressed formally for the hour, wearing a red and blue silk evening dress. "Death is a Vorkosigan stock in trade." She handed Miles a cup of coffee, though her eyes were fixed on Aral. "And we all have our pack of ghosts. But that's just it, you're alive and they're dead. You have the choice to keep living. The only difference is that my ghosts never sleep."

Miles eyed the coffee before trying it. Raina smiled wryly. "The proof is in the drinking, eh, Miles? Just… don't condemn me before you know why I trust you. Not because Leo practically ordered it. Because we're family."

She quirked an eyebrow at Miles. A small knapsack hung from her shoulder, and admiral's tabs were attached to her embroidered collar. She followed his gaze. "Leo slipped the tabs into the last shipment, as a gift. Trying to tell us something, probably."

"Was it difficult to get into the Academy?" asked Miles.

She grinned. "That's quite a story. Would you like to walk with me? I'd… like some company."

Miles got up. Aral hesitated, glancing at the knapsack. Then he followed them down the hill, towards the walled cemetery. Here and there, the last of the green foliage trembled in the wilting garden.

Raina walked slowly. "I cheated on my entrance exams."

"What?!"

She put a finger to her lips, smiling. Her voice was soft and mellow. "You see, at the time, women were still barred from military service. Alex and I arrived on-planet just a few days before the written exams. Father had reserved a place for him."

"You switched places."

"It was quite easy. Same height, weight, appearance. We had a reputation, so people stayed away. I finished in the top twenty, overall. Then came the first medical check." Raina laughed quietly. "As you can imagine, all hell broke loose. It ignited debates throughout the Imperium. I think Father was furious and pleased at the same time.

"For a while we thought we'd lose both our places in the roster, since Alex hadn't tried out. Then Allegre got the full report from his galactic operatives. And he told Uncle Gregor, 'If our military doesn't snag those two, someone else's will. And if that happens, we're screwed.' In so many words. Annotated, I'm sure. So Uncle Gregor turned around and changed the law. Alex took the exams later, though he was told the next Lord Vorkosigan was not going to get a free ride into the Academy."

"You must be proud to have opened that door for so many women."

"Not that many. The standards are the same for women and men. There are stricter rules to protect the women from their brother officers, but under my watch, we're extremely hard on female officers. I'm a soldier, not a feminist." Count Vorkosigan's eyes narrowed at this, his expression thoughtful.

Raina stopped before Sergeant Bothari's grave. Oh. The long lake shimmered with golden sunlight. She opened the knapsack and took out a brazier and a packet of scented wood. "At his lady's feet," she muttered. "One day, old dog."

She knelt, setting it up. "Silvy Vale's too far out of the way," she remarked. "Lem and Harra used to expect me annually. But this is all right. Speaking of ghosts... I know all of Bothari's recorded life by heart. Grandmother even suggested I was reincarnation of him. I don't know about that anymore, but it's easier for people to understand."

The sun was rising steadily over the trees. Miles shut his eyes against the brilliance.

"…Alex and I know all the stories." Raina's voice hovered just above a whisper. She sat at the head of the grave, leaning on the tree. "By the time we were six years old, the nightmares got so bad we refused to sleep. The doctors told Ma and Da that if we kept it up, we'd be ill from exhaustion. No one had any good solutions until Gran'da visited from Sergyar.

"He tried to make a deal with us: if he told us a story, we'd go to bed. Even back then we drove a hard bargain: we wanted a real story, not a made-up one. So Gran'da started to tell us about the Komarran invasion. But we were perceptive little brats--- we could tell whenever he left out parts. Finally he made us swear by our word as Vorkosigan that anything he told us would not leave the room.

"That's how we learned the classified --- beyond classified version of the annexation, and how 'storytime' began. For three years, we wouldn't go to sleep otherwise. Fortunately we were both allergic to fast-penta, or else ImpSec would have balked. Once Father and Mother exhausted their store, they enlisted Uncle Mark, Uncle Ivan, Simon and Alys; even Emperor Gregor would stop in. Old friends of Dad's would visit, just to tell us Naismith stories. Our nightmares never decreased in frequency or intensity, but hearing about the real life nightmares, and real life, helped us get through it. Sometimes we heard the same stories from different people, and we knew more about those situations than the people who lived them.

"And we were dead serious about keeping our word, young as we were. If someone asked us about 'storytime,' we'd deny it even existed. We wouldn't have learned the meaning of honor otherwise. I also think we sensed the cathartic nature of telling those stories, and so we respected the need for secrecy." Raina looked up, meeting Count Vorkosigan's eyes. Her head tilted into the sun, and her hair flared with red. Some understanding passed between them, in that moment. Miles sensed it was something older than he was.

At last Raina retrieved a long, flat object from the knapsack. She offered it to Miles. Grandfather's antique dagger. "Sorry, I lifted it from your room. Figured we might need it, and now we do."

Miles carefully sawed off a lock of his hair. A thought occurred to him. "You didn't use it, did you?"

She had the grace to blush. "No. Not that one. Besides, a good assassin always carries more than one knife."

Miles passed the blade to his father. The Count pursed his lips; his military burr was too close. Raina noticed. "I'm afraid I don't have any scissors."

Aral and Raina's gazes met once more. To Miles's amazement, Aral handed the dagger to Raina. She got up, and stepped towards him, holding the dagger by the blade. Behind them, Pym swore. Miles suppressed a quiver of panic as the steel blade passed close to his father's scalp. Her fingers moving quickly and gently along the metal edge, Raina removed some bits of hair.

Lips slightly parted, she stepped back. Sheathed the knife. Sunlight gleamed in her eyes. Aral released his in-taken breath. He seemed a bit surprised, as though it had been quicker and more painless than he'd expected.

Raina lit the brazier, adding the hair. Then she retrieved her own tresses from the knapsack. As they fell into the flames, Miles thought he saw a dark substance matting the strands. Raina traced his gaze. "Please don't tell Alex. It was an accident," she said, for his ear alone.

An accident... Miles swallowed. Too close, too many memories. Sergeant Bothari's bloody death flashed through his mind. There was too much history here, ready to repeat itself.