“We haven’t much space,” she apologized. “I’m afraid even Barrayaran administrators here must accept what’s assigned to them. I’ll order in a grav-bed for you, I’m sure they’ll have it delivered before dinner’s over. But at least the room’s private. My uncle snores so magnificently… The bath’s just down the hall to the right.”

“It’s fine,” he assured her. He stepped to the window and stared out over the domed park. The lights in the encircling buildings gleamed warmly in the luminous twilight of the half-eclipsed mirror.

“I know it’s not what you’re used to.”

One corner of his mouth twitched up. “I once slept for six weeks on bare dirt. With ten thousand extremely grubby Marilacans, many of whom snored. I assure you, it’s just fine.”

She smiled in return, not at all certain what to make of this joke, if it was a joke. She left him to arrange his things as he saw fit, and scurried to call the rental company and finish setting up dinner.

They all rendezvoused, despite her best intentions for a more formal service, in her kitchen, where the little Auditor foiled her expectations again by only allowing her to pour him half a glass of wine. “I started today with seven hours in a pressure suit. I’d be asleep with my face in my plate before dessert.” His gray eyes glinted.

She herded them all out to the table on the balcony and presented the mildly spicy stew based oh vat-protein that she’d correctly guessed her uncle would like. By the time she handed round the bread and wine, she’d at last caught up enough to finally have a word with her uncle herself.