"So Miles-san has an important job and an important family," said Mina, testing out these ideas. Jin wondered if she was thinking about those ponies.

Aunt Lorna grimaced. "Is his important relative why he was given the important job?"

"No," said Raven-sensei judiciously, "I expect Miles was given his job because he's a damned weasel. There's a reason ferret out means what it does. You have to have noticed that the man is a hyperactive lunatic, surely." With a fair-minded air, he added, "To the benefit of me and mine, to be sure."

"Well…" Vorlynkin trailed off vaguely. And diplomatically, Jin supposed.

Jin heaved a sigh. "I wish I might have ferret!"

Jin's mother choked; Vorlynkin glanced at her, and at Nefertiti who was now nosing among the violets, and put in, "You just got a-er-almost a lion, at least. Possibly enough wildlife wishes granted for the moment."

Mina twined her arms around her mother and rested her head on the maternal shoulder. Mom hugged her back. There's a wish, thought Jin. There's a real big wish, to have granted. Bigger than a ferret any day. Bigger than a lion, even.

Although-Jin had seen pictures-ferrets were really cute. Cute-and-furry was always an easier sell than carapaced-and-multilegged, for some obscure reason. Grownups, so unreasonable…?

The grownups started talking about lawyers and lawsuits and NewEgypt's evil executives, all under arrest, and Mom's old political action committee and what would happen to it next, which they'd been doing nonstop for days, practically the whole week since Suze-san's place had almost been burned down, so Jin drifted away to watch Nefertiti. Mina, equally bored, followed him.

The sphinx was crouched down in the patch of purple and white violets.

"Oh, no!" cried Mina. "She's eating them!"

Jin, worried that the consul might be attached to his violets-thin green stems, at this point, mostly-grabbed the sphinx and dragged her away, scolding.

"Fud," mumbled Nefertiti, squashed lavender petals dribbling from her mouth.

"Vorlynkin-san!" Mina called in anxiety. "Will eating violets make Nefertiti sick?"

Jin's mother gulped in dismay, except that she was also laughing, but Vorlynkin seemed barely taken aback. "I shouldn't think so. Edible flowers are sometimes put on salads, and violets, I believe, are among them. They're also served candied. It would doubtless be prudent not to let her eat too many at a time, however."

Jin and Mina both slumped in relief, for slightly different reasons, perhaps. Vorlynkin-san knew all kinds of nifty things. And he smiled at Jin's mom. And Jin's mom smiled back, which wasn't something she'd done much, lately. He was actually an all-right-all-round sort of fellow, though he needed to be brought up to speed on zoolology, if he was…?going to stick around.

So that's all right, thought Jin.

?

Miles selected a table at the edge of the balcony overlooking the Escobar transfer station's main concourse. From here, one had a doubly dizzying view, of the people passing two floors below, and of a broad slice of star-specked space and Escobar's rim, glowing with light and color, through the transparent wall above. He set out three coffee bulbs, took a seat, and gestured Roic to another.

The armsman accepted a coffee bulb but shook his head at the seat, preferring to lean against the balcony rail and gaze around, appearing, alas, exactly like a bodyguard trying to look like a tourist. Roic was not fond of these exposed positions. Miles always enjoyed this cafe, when passing through here-this addition to the station was about ten years old, he recollected.

Mark appeared, spotted him-well, Roic-waved, and trod over. Miles's commercial ship was not leaving for some hours, so Mark had delayed catching the hourly downside shuttle in favor of a few more minutes with his brother. Sharing the same ship from Kibou-daini had thrown them together for a longer stretch of time than they'd had in years, even if they'd both spent much of the time en route in their separate cabins devising detailed directives to send ahead to their respective associates. Busy and absorbed was, on the whole, good. Beat the hell out of insane and dead, for example.

Mark sat down, swept up the last bulb, popped the cap with his thumb, took a swig, and grimaced. When he had time, Mark was a bit of a gourmet, finicky in his tastes for food and drink. Miles didn't think the flavor was so bad, for transfer station bulb coffee. As a practical matter, you had to allow the modifiers.

"Sorry I'm late," said Mark. "At the last moment before disembarking, I got a message from Kareen, and I wanted to play it right away."

In the privacy of his cabin. Miles nodded understanding. Mark had left Kareen and Raven behind to start the set-up for the new Durona clinic, and incidentally keep an eye on the progress of Jin's affairs, while Mark went ahead to deal with the details on the Escobar end. The separation from his partner, temporary though it was, left him notably cranky. Miles thought of Ekaterin and sighed.

"News good or news bad?" Miles asked. Though if there were anything very bad, he should have received a tight-beam from Vorlynkin.

"Not bad. Kareen reports Raven successfully revived those two missing friends of Madame Sato's, and they've given some useful testimony to their authorities. Legal actions against NewEgypt proceed apace, by legal standards, which means glacially by human standards, but they are apparently moving in the right directions, so far. With the murder charges laid, the NewEgypt execs remain in custody. The locals accepted a plea bargain of some sort from your friend Oki, whatever you call it when you rat out your comrades in exchange for a lighter sentence." Mark didn't sound especially disapproving.

Roic, listening, raised his coffee bulb in salute and drank. Oki hadn't been the worst of the bunch, to be sure.

"I trust my name hasn't turned up in the proceedings," said Miles.

"They don't know you from a hole in the ground," Mark assured him, and grinned like a fat shark at his pained expression. "Did Kareen really have to sit on you to keep you from giving interviews?"

"That was a joke, and she knew it," Miles said austerely.

"Yeah, right."

"What's next for you?"

"I descend on the Durona Group with a long list of chores not in their prior schedule, much as you will when you hit home, no doubt. I hope to have the set-up team for our first off-Escobar satellite clinic assembled and on their way in a week. Fuwa's repairs are in hand, which is a relief; most contractors in my experience are only just barely faster than lawyers. Kareen says his work looks good so far, so we'll be able to employ his company some more. Seems the least I can do for the man."

"How little did you get him down to, that night?"

Mark gave a smug duck of his chin. "That's proprietary information. But to thwart seller's remorse, I plan to swing him a lot of construction business."

"Bet he'll try to pad his estimates."

"Oh, of course." Mark waved this away as a given.

Miles wondered if sending Mark to batten on Kibou-daini would prove adequate revenge for WhiteChrys's ploy on Komarr. On the whole, he thought it might.

"And you?" asked Mark. "Are you going straight back to Barrayar, or will you stop at Sergyar to see our parents?"

Miles rubbed his knuckles across his mouth, and frowned. "There was no chance to go downside on my outbound trip, of course. Though I did snatch twenty minutes to talk in real time with Mother, from the orbital transfer station."

"How was she?"

"No more harried than usual. I'd promised to stop on the way back, but my case ran a couple of weeks over what I'd initially planned-did that one to myself, true-and I might need to spend a few days on Komarr, setting up the trap for WhiteChrys with some folks, which also wasn't in my initial plan. So I may have to wait till they come home for Winterfair, if they do, this year. Will you and Kareen be coming home then?"