"Perhaps," ghem-Yulang says curtly and pointedly, "we should continue with the interrogation."
"Grandfather isn't an idiot," Sonia is saying with that stupid, dreamy smile, though her voice is faintly impassioned behind the fast-penta haze. She looks pointedly at Tarn. "He's smarter than everyone in this room. And that's why it won't work."
She sits back loosely in her chair as though she's made some cogent point. Ghem-Yulang, looking more irritated at the Princess now than his putative co-interrogators, holds up a hand again. As though she's been trained, Sonia stops talking.
"Tell me about Vorkosigan's operations," he says, tenting his fingers. "We know he's got something in the works. What is he planning? What are his goals?"
"Oh, they don't tell me anything," Sonia laughs cheerfully, flapping a limp hand. "Not anything like that, anyway. All I know is gossip. But some of it is really good gossip."
Ghem-Yulang ignores this. "How many people are under his command?"
"Oh, barely a hundred now," she chirps, as though the semi-decimation of their camp were a fun topic. "You weren't the only ones who got hit hard with the flu, you know. I got sick." She sags in the chair, brow furrowing. "It was awful. And we didn't have any analgesics or anything like you did." She pouts at ghem-Yulang childishly. "And Olivia...oh, I was really worried she might really not make it for a while. She looked so gray. You know that look, like they're already almost dead? One foot in the grave, isn't that the saying?"
The ghem-major ignores this, interrupting her. "How many exotics?"
"You mean outsiders? Exotics is such a rude word. Twelve, unless any more of them have dropped out of the sky in the last two weeks." She looks at Byerly with that utterly vapid look, blinking, and then she smiles at him, as though he'd suddenly given her encouragement to keep talking. "Byerly wasn't the only Barrayaran, either. There's Miles, too. And Duv is from Komarr -- oh, but you had him first, didn't you?" She giggles faintly. "You already know."
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"Grandfather isn't an idiot," Sonia is saying with that stupid, dreamy smile, though her voice is faintly impassioned behind the fast-penta haze. She looks pointedly at Tarn. "He's smarter than everyone in this room. And that's why it won't work."
She sits back loosely in her chair as though she's made some cogent point. Ghem-Yulang, looking more irritated at the Princess now than his putative co-interrogators, holds up a hand again. As though she's been trained, Sonia stops talking.
"Tell me about Vorkosigan's operations," he says, tenting his fingers. "We know he's got something in the works. What is he planning? What are his goals?"
"Oh, they don't tell me anything," Sonia laughs cheerfully, flapping a limp hand. "Not anything like that, anyway. All I know is gossip. But some of it is really good gossip."
Ghem-Yulang ignores this. "How many people are under his command?"
"Oh, barely a hundred now," she chirps, as though the semi-decimation of their camp were a fun topic. "You weren't the only ones who got hit hard with the flu, you know. I got sick." She sags in the chair, brow furrowing. "It was awful. And we didn't have any analgesics or anything like you did." She pouts at ghem-Yulang childishly. "And Olivia...oh, I was really worried she might really not make it for a while. She looked so gray. You know that look, like they're already almost dead? One foot in the grave, isn't that the saying?"
The ghem-major ignores this, interrupting her. "How many exotics?"
"You mean outsiders? Exotics is such a rude word. Twelve, unless any more of them have dropped out of the sky in the last two weeks." She looks at Byerly with that utterly vapid look, blinking, and then she smiles at him, as though he'd suddenly given her encouragement to keep talking. "Byerly wasn't the only Barrayaran, either. There's Miles, too. And Duv is from Komarr -- oh, but you had him first, didn't you?" She giggles faintly. "You already know."