The Vorish Class

[extrapenguin]

On AO3.
Here's the first of the two Vorkosigan WIPs I've been working on. Thanks to avanti_90 for betaing!
Summary: Lt Aleksei Kostolitz, ImpSec, and Filippa Cherenkova end up seconded to Auditor Vorparadijs to investigate the death of a horse. The murders of the Count Vorcault's aunt and wife complicate matters.

 

Filippa Cherenkova looked at him with an expression that was easily interpreted as “you do realize that what you said right there was fucking insane”.

ImpSec Lieutenant Aleksei Kostolitz, Imperial Liaison Officer (or whatever his superiors had decided to call his position today), decided that the best course of action was to repeat what he had said.

“The Emperor would like for us to assist Imperial Auditor Vorparadijs in his investigation of the incidents in Vorcault District. Countess Vorcault and the Count's aunt, Lady Irina, have been stabbed to death. After the tragic murder of the Count's favorite horse, he called on the Emperor to help solve this politically motivated crime.”

“So, nobody cares about the women, but the moment a horse kicks it, it's boohoo Sire please help?” Filippa was somewhere between disbelief and “oh really”.

Aleksei nodded.

“And you're telling me this because?”

“I was seconded to the Lord Auditor for the duration and need someone to keep me sane. Also, there's a horse involved, so there's pretext.” Aleksei gave a hopeful smile. Filippa made a disgusted noise, but agreed to come.

 

“You are late, Lieutenant!” bellowed Lord Auditor Vorparadijs from next to the intercontinental shuttle he'd commandeered. Aleksei and Filippa had been delayed in traffic.

“I am sorry, Lord-” Aleksei began.

“What are you wearing, girl?” Vorparadijs screeched.

“Trousers”, Filippa said. “Handy for riding horses and not flashing underwear.”

“What has the world come to? Why have we let the galactics corrupt our womanfolk so? None of this would've happened when I was a young boy-” Vorparadijs began his familiar rant. Filippa raised an eyebrow, then slipped off, leaving Aleksei alone as the target of Vorparadijs' wrath. Thanks a lot, Filippa.

A small amount of time later, Filippa returned, wearing what looked to be a curtain artistically wrapped around her waist and secured with a safety pin. “Lo and behold, I am wearing a skirt. May we depart now?”

Vorparadijs expressed approval at her sartorial choices and bundled them into the shuttle. Out of the corner of his mouth, Aleksei whispered “You didn't steal that curtain, did you?”

“Nah, the Lady Vorbosch was very happy to donate it after I mentioned ‘Vorparadijs’. She gave me the names of a few dress shops in the Vorcault district that will no doubt be out of my price range, too.” Filippa shrugged.

Any further conversation was restricted by them having to listen to Vorparadijs complain about his gut problems.

 

Several hours later, they arrived at the shuttleport at Estby, capital of the Vorcault district. A liveried servant in Vorcault white and burgundy arrived to take them to the Vorcault lakeside manor. Vorparadijs was mercifully silent. Aleksei followed Filippa's example of looking out the window.

The landscape was flat and full of red Barrayaran vegetation fighting through the Earther green crops of actual value. The effect was downright desolate in places. Smoke billowed on the horizon, signaling a burning of the native vegetation, a practice that hadn't been necessary in Aleksei's home District for a generation. Two or three, for the quantities implied by the smoke. The sky was a leaden gray, threatening to extinguish the terraforming efforts.

Eventually, they reached the end of the potholed road. Lac Vorcault was a small settlement, with a stable slightly smaller than the one Filippa's father owned, a few houses for Armsmen and their families, and a three-storey lakeside manor, painted burgundy with white trimmings.

A butler showed them in and took their coats. Aleksei wasn't really used to such attention, and neither was Filippa.

“Imperial Auditor General Vorparadijs, accompanied by Lieutenant Aleksei Kostolitz, Imperial Security, and his fiancée Filippa Cherenkova”, the butler introduced them. Aleksei and Filippa glanced at each other suspiciously and silently vowed to strangle the person who'd misrepresented their marital status of Single, Just Friends.

“Count Jean Marc Vorcault”, the Butler continued. The Count nodded politely. The other man was introduced as Lord André Vorcault, the Count's uncle and husband to the deceased Lady Irina.

The Count was of middle height, with short brown hair, hooded dark eyes, gaunt cheeks and a judgmental gaze that skipped over Aleksei and Filippa to make eye contact with Vorparadijs. “I am glad our Emperor gives the case the respect it deserves”, he said. “There is a village not far away. I fear one of my subjects may have slain my dear horse.”

“Was it perhaps the same person who killed your Countess and Lady Aunt?” Filippa asked, the raised eyebrow signaling her willingness to play with fire. Aleksei suppressed an urge to elbow her in the ribs.

The Count and Lord André looked shocked, though whether it was at the novel notion or at the fact that a woman had spoken, Aleksei wasn't sure.

Vorparadijs seized the idea. “Ah yes, that makes perfect sense. What a marvelous notion, Count. Of course someone who hated you enough to kill your horse would also be the one to go after your wife.”

Vorparadijs dismissed them to do some talking amongst the commoner servants and began a familiar tirade on the evils of modern youth that the Vorcaults seemed to agree with.

 

“These people are creepy”, Filippa confided in him. She'd ditched the ersatz skirt and was braving the shocked stares of the Armsmen.

“I suppose it's like a time machine”, Aleksei said. “Like a glimpse into our uncivilized past. Come, let's go talk to the kitchen staff.”

 

The kitchen looked dingy. Then again, anything would look dingy when compared to the Imperial kitchens. The butler was there, short and middle-aged, salt-and-pepper hair paired with a sight paunch and a strong jaw. A woman who looked to be a maid was also middle-aged, dark hair not yet graying, dressed in a dress that was mostly white but with enough burgundy trim and paneling so as to not be mistaken for a wedding dress. Completing the trio was a tall twenty-something who could have stepped straight out of a recruitment poster, so good were his looks, so chiseled his cheekbones. His hair was auburn and his skin and eyes pale.

Aleksei and Filippa were noticed. “Hello”, Aleksei said. “I'm Aleksei Kostolitz, Lieutenant, ImpSec. This is Filippa Cherenkova, civilian consultant.” He wasn't sure as to what the locals would think of an unmarried man walking around with an unmarried woman.

“I'm Frederic Ingeu, butler and liveried servant. My brother and nephew are Armsmen. Our family has served the Vorcaults for over five generations”, the butler said.

“Maia Ingeu Valentine, wife of Armsman Valentine, maid. I do what cleaning and cooking there is. The Valentines have served the Vorcaults for six generations”, the woman said.

The recruitment-poster boy opened his mouth. “I'm Seth. I make tea.”

 

The day came to a close, and Aleksei and Filippa were bundled off to thankfully separate rooms. An hour later, Filippa slipped into his room.

“So, tomorrow's plan. I want to look at that horse, and hear about the Countess and the Lady Irina from people”, she said.

“I agree. I somehow doubt that any of the servants here would touch the victims. I also doubt that anyone would walk ten miles from the village to murder the Lady Irina and the Countess and a horse all on separate days.” Aleksei paused. “How about the associated Vor here? The Count murders the Lady Irina, Lord André murders the Countess as revenge? It would explain the hushed feeling I'm getting.”

Filippa nodded. “I suppose we have to visit the village, too, sometime. It seems like exactly the sort of thing Vorparadijs would order us to do. Maybe I could even buy a dress from there so that the locals stop staring at my backside.”

Aleksei snorted. “You demonstrated an amazing lack of forethought with your packing, Filippa.”

“I don't own any decent dresses, just three pairs of riding trousers. I also thought this would involve more horse-riding than it so far has.” Filippa glared at him. “Though I suppose we'll be riding to the village, the road trip is three times as long as the cross-country trail.”

They wished each other good night, and Filippa slipped back into the corridor.

 

Dawn came entirely too early for Aleksei's comfort. He rose reluctantly, shaved, dressed, and wandered downstairs before pausing to wonder whether he'd be expected to dine with the Count, as a guest like Vorparadijs, or whether he was Vorparadijs' servant and thus should breakfast with the other servants. He was rescued by Maia, Filippa in tow, inviting them to share a meal with the indoors servants.

 

“Indoors servants”, in this case, meant Frederic the butler, Maia the maid, and “I'm Seth, I make tea”. The armsmen had already eaten. Maia had cooked up buttered groats and sausages with bread. Seth had contributed a pot of earthy pu-erh with nutmeg and rooibos. Aleksei complimented them both and tried to wrangle the tea supplier's name out of Seth. Filippa ate her fill, an apparent member of the “seconds are the best compliment” school of thought, then complimented Maia and Seth with words. They looked pleased.

 

Next, Vorparadijs sent them to the stables, suspecting that a servant had at least been involved in the horrific attacks against the Count. Seth was sent to escort them there. Aleksei felt slightly envious of the man's ability to walk across the mud with no adverse effects to his white trousers.

“Seth!” A skinny young woman of medium height and mud-brown curls bounced over to them.

Seth acquired an actual expression onto his face. It most closely resembled a bashful smile. “Ann, these are Lieutenant Aleksei Kostolitz and Filippa Cherenkova. They came here with the Auditor.”

“We're here to investigate the horse. Can you tell us about what happened? Anything would be useful”, Filippa said.

Ann's expression became a bit guarded. She glanced over to Seth, and, at a reassuring smile from him, nodded at them and told them to follow, shooting a smile at Seth over her shoulder.

She'd apparently just finished feeding the horses, and began sweeping again. Filippa, seemingly without conscious decision, picked up another brush and joined the sweeping effort. Aleksei stared at the hay being moved around on the floor, decided that he did not have the expertise to attempt joining, and decided instead to stay out of the way. While talking to Ann. Right.

“So, could you tell us about the horse?” he began, hopefully with an easy question.

Apparently, he'd guessed right, since Ann relaxed. “Oh, Mardie? Vorcault Mardira was a big black warmblood, almost seventeen hands, hot-tempered and easily heated. She was the old Count Pierre's project, by Vorcault Varadar out of a nice large bay he'd bought from the Voraronbergs. Good at jumping, good at dressage, didn't spook, looked good in House colors. A pity.”

“What happened to the old Count? Wasn't he rather young when he died?” Filippa asked.

Aleksei dodged as Ann opened a stall door to a gray horse and began sweeping in her pile. “Yes, only in his fifties. Tragic accident. – You can sweep those into Glishara's stall, she's the flaxen chestnut over there.” Ann's voice went down in a conspiratorial whisper. “They claim the current Count spent a lot of time in the capital before Old Pierre died, but the talk is he was in an asylum. That's why he married a commoner.”

Aleksei put on an expression that hopefully communicated the correct response to being party to interesting gossip. “And the horse's death?”

Ann's brows knit. “It was none of us servants. We don't go 'round murdering prized horses!” She took a steadying breath. “I think it was the Lord André. The night Mardie died, I'd fed the horses and had just gone to drop some bales of hay from the attic when I heard some noises, and then I looked down and it was Lord André, near Mardie's stall, and then he went off 'fore I could call to him.” Ann was blinking back tears.

Aleksei adopted his most gentle voice. “Would you be willing to testify under fast-penta?” Hopefully, she would, and then they could nail Lord André and find out why he'd killed the blasted horse and maybe perhaps solve the murders of the Countess Seline and Lady Irina.

“Yes”, Ann agreed, removing any need for Aleksei to toss around words like “duty” and “the greater good”. He let out a small breath of relief.

 

“We've discovered a witness willing to testify under fast-penta”, Aleksei told Vorparadijs. Vorparadijs raised an eyebrow, but wrangled a spare room out of the Vorcaults with obvious glee. Too bad his pet theory would be proven wrong. Aleksei considered warning him, but decided against it.

The room looked like it had originally been done in white and burgundy, but the white had dimmed to a pale cream over time. The chairs were luxurious and soft, covered in a burgundy velvet. The room had never seen electric lighting and was lit by a large window out to the lake and an ancient oil lamp that was thankfully not necessary at this hour.

Count Vorcault and Lord André were already present, along with Vorparadijs, Filippa, Aleksei and an Armsman, when Ann arrived, Seth and Maia in tow. She raised her chin and sat down confidently onto the chair Vorparadijs waved her to, untied curls splaying over the burgundy fabric.

“Do you consent to a fast-penta interrogation regarding the horse's death?” Vorparadijs asked.

“Yes”, Ann nodded with a set jaw. Aleksei had to fight the temptation to glance at Lord André.

Vorparadijs administered the test and the fast-penta. He began bringing Ann down to the fast-penta fugue state of happy compliance.

“What happened on the night that the horse died?” Vorparadijs asked.

“Oh, I'd just given the horses their evening hay and grain and swept the floor – it's impossible to be tidy with hay, y'see, it just goes everywhere-”

“Stop. What happened after you'd swept the hay?”

“I went to drop some hay bales from the attic. Can't store them all where they're accessible, no room there, so we have to-”

“Stop”, Vorparadijs said flatly. “What happened after you'd gone to the attic?”

“I finished dropping the bales. Then, just before I went down, I heard footsteps down below, so I went to have a look-see from between the floorboards. It was Lord André, in front of Mardie's stall, giving Mardie some kind of treat. Then he left.”

“Is Mardie the horse that died?” Vorparadijs asked. Aleksei chose to move his gaze from Ann to Lord André.

“Yes”, Ann confirmed. Vorparadijs asked her a few more confirming questions, then administered the antidote. Ann staggered over to where Seth and Maia were waiting.

“I didn't kill the horse”, Lord André said.

Aleksei hoped that no-one believed him, since the expression on his face screamed guilt. He put on his blandest ImpSec tones and said, “The best way to convince us would be to submit to a fast-penta interrogation.” He was reasonably proud of his attempt at Simon Illyan's accent.

“I think you should, Uncle”, the Count said.

Faced with such pressure, Lord André had to agree. Unfortunately for him, he wasn't allergic to fast-penta and the interrogation could proceed. Vorparadijs ran him through the introduction questions.

Vorparadijs started the interrogation proper with the wham question of whether Lord André had indeed poisoned the horse.

“Yes, why shouldn't I? Bastard killed my wife”, Lord André said with the incongruously happy expression acquired by all under the influence of fast-penta.

“Who killed your wife?” Vorparadijs asked, visibly surprised.

“Count Jean Vorcault, that's who. Didn't spend the first two decades of his life in a mental asylum for nothing. Sure, he's allowed to kill his own wife – it's not like anyone would care about the street-whore from the gutters – but he shouldn't have fucking touched my Lady Irina.”

“How- how do you know that the Count killed your wives?” Vorparadijs asked after he'd gotten over his initial confusion. Aleksei glanced at Filippa, who was rolling her eyes.

“Bastard bragged to me. Told me he would rid the world of impure women. Told me he'd started with my wife. Then his, after Lord Pierre Vorcault was born. I killed his fucking horse.”

Vorparadijs chose to end the fast-penta interrogation at the confession, and stared at the Count. The Count stared back with a cool gaze.

“Do you have anything to say to these accusations?” Vorparadijs asked.

“I shall miss the horse”, the Count replied.

“Are you sure you should be doing that? The horse was a mare, after all”, Filippa said. The Vor ignored her remark and Aleksei gave a pained sigh.

 

“So, that was neat”, Aleksei said to Filippa back at his apartment in Vorbarr Sultana. He'd managed to pester a tea recipe out of Seth and was now trying out a blend of Assam, black pepper, orange peel and basil. Filippa seemed to like it.

“Yes”, Filippa agreed, “it was. What's going to happen to the infant Lord Vorcault?”

“Apparently Lord André's younger brother, Lord Lucas, will be retiring from his post as customs inspector on Komarr and coming to administrate the Vorcault District.” Aleksei took a sip of his tea. It had brewed better than he'd expected.

He'd been teetering between two choices for some time. On the one hand, there was Filippa's eternal friendship. On the other, there was a chance of romance, if he'd read the signals right. He contemplated for a moment, then chose friendship. Lovers were dime a dozen once he mentioned his occupation, but friends were infinitely rarer and more precious.

“Why do you think we got introduced as engaged? Was it simply the butler's assumption, or was it Vorparadijs?” Filippa asked as if sensing his thoughts. She took a gulp of tea.

“Apparently it was Vorparadijs. The Emperor tried to congratulate me on my engagement ‘to a most intelligent and capable woman’, unquote. He was quite abashed when I explained that I wasn't actually engaged.”

Filippa snorted tea, then devolved into a coughing fit. When she'd cleared her air passages, she said, “If we're both still single by the time my parents start pressuring me into marriage, well, I would say ‘do not be surprised if a Baba comes knocking at your door’, but I'd much more likely come myself.”

Yes, he could have his friendship. He would take the friendship, and package his romantic feelings and let them lie in wait. “Deal?”

“Deal”, Filippa said and smiled.