"That's precisely what I'm arguing," he says, sensing an opening. At least, he hopes he's sensing it, or this could go very poorly or him. "Cetaganda won't give a damn about who you are - all they care about are their sensibilities." Their ... um, organic sensibilities? Well, he can come back to that later. As maddening as it is to pass up something that's inflamed his curiosity. "But Barrayar lives by all of that. A job well done. A violent job well done."

He's really not exaggerating all that much. Even him with his own galactic sensibilities can admit to being impressed by a formidable foe. He takes a step forward, his gray eyes clear and bright.

"Join up with the Barrayarans instead," he says. "And use their power to force Cetaganda to give you back what's yours."