He isn't entirely wrong, from what Sonia knows about the Cetagandans, and what she knows isn't entirely Barrayaran-derived, propaganda or otherwise. She'd been to the Cetagandan Embassy on Beta Colony as a child, once or twice. Studied them in school. But it's the war that's taught her real caution of them. The will of the artist may be the be-all and end-all of art, but she's a political hostage. Art only goes so far, even here.

"I don't know," she says airily, but truthfully. "That woman didn't tell me very much, except that she wanted to see my work. They're all so irritatingly vague. How am I supposed to know what they'll let me do with it?"

She's being entirely petulant, she knows, but that in itself is an odd freedom. She quickly snaps a picture of Byerly as soon as he's relaxed -- to make up for the shot he messed up, of course -- and then disappears back up into the tree, righting herself up and climbing higher.

"Do you think I could call it a performance piece if I refused to come down?" Her voice isn't quite so sardonic this time, still petulant, but there's tentative amusement. "Something about becoming one with nature, or whatever? What do magnolias symbolize, anyway?"