Work Text:
The work was still real. I was still able to lose myself - find myself - in the intricate weaving and untangling, the balancing of great magics. But every time I came out of the trance, to Conju’s earnest ministrations, the palace seemed both grayer and sharper, and the role - the persona - the Emperor - the Lord Magus - the absurd god-on-earth, slipped on more easily, almost comfortingly - no, never that, but comfortably? And I slipped further away, faded, became less. Less real.
It had become ever more difficult to respond to Cliopher’s overtures, to summon the energy to reach back over the gulf that separated us and be the person who had always so eagerly accepted his gifts. Was that why I sent Cliopher away? I had never rewarded him with an extra vacation; it was hard enough to be without him for his usual well-deserved yearly trip back to the Vangevaye-ve. Another three weeks? What was I thinking? That I could just curl up, give up, go back to sleep?
I was wrong, of course. With Cliopher gone I was as lonely, as bereft, and as lost as I always am without him. And yet, I was right, too, because lost was what I was heading for.
When Cliopher returned, relaxed and sun-kissed and yet eager to return to work, the Emperor in all his serenity was there to greet him. Sadly - but I did not feel sad, only, perhaps, wistful - it was the Emperor’s eyes, golden and opaque, that Cliopher smiled into. Lost. “Did you have a good holiday?” the Emperor managed to ask, then remembered to gesture Cliopher to his seat, turned his back and began pacing, carried on.
The Emperor responded coolly, politely, as Cliopher described the summer house that had struck him so deeply, and I cursed my imagination, because I could see the turquoise lagoon, the white sand beach, the dark ocean surrounding it, and I wished for - well, nothing I could ever have. I paused by the window, not trusting myself to approach closer to someone who could read me as well as Cliopher does.
“Will you go there for your next holidays, then?”
“No, my lord. I thought…I had the great presumption to think…that perhaps your Radiancy might like to do so.”
What? I repeated to myself what Cliopher had said. I reached for something to ground me. The curtain tassel - strings of tiny freshwater pearls, not from the Vangavaye-ve but Nasturin Lake on Ysthar - that was real - the rest was confusion. His Radiancy did not like to do things; the Emperor did what needed to be done, did his duty, always, refrained from doing things that caused unnecessary harm, did his best to govern…Furthermore, the Emperor did not go anywhere; the Emperor was the linchpin of the Empire, the Emperor was surrounded by taboos, to go anywhere required months of planning, dozens of guards and attendants and courtiers and oh, gods, luggage and security, and was always for some vastly important political or diplomatic purpose.
I realized some response was necessary. “Did you?” the Emperor said.
I watched in some dismay as Cliopher performed the formal obeisance, so unlike his usual relaxed self and yet perhaps appropriate in this unprecedented exchange. “I did, my lord. And moreover…moreover, I considered your schedule and bethought myself that when you have finished the work on the typhoons it may be that you would enjoy a vacation, and therefore, my lord, I took the very great liberty of hoping you would not be displeased, and rented the place for the period of the Little Session.”
Cliopher’s clumsy attempt at courtier language returned me to myself a little, as it always did. I was able to remind myself: the Empire is no more. No one would expect the Emperor to want or to go, no one would invite the Emperor, but might the Lord Magus of Zunidth…? No, not so long as he was the Sun-on-Earth, the living god and the focus of the Imperial cult, the hope his people had clung to for all this time. What in the nine worlds was Cliopher thinking?
He was offering something to me. Not something that I could accept, but that wasn’t the important thing. The important thing was that he thought to offer . “You rented this place for me ?”
“I know it was exceedingly presumptuous of me, my lord.”
That certainly was not the important thing. “Oh, get up. I wish to see your face.”
Cliopher got up. I walked toward him, not staring, of course not, but seeing him for the first time since his return. “You saw this beautiful place, and you thought I would like it, and that I might enjoy a” my voice caught - “a vacation after finishing up my present project, so you rented it for a month in my name, am I correct?”
“I did not presume so far, my lord. It is in my name.”
And that was not the important thing, either. Cliopher had made this extraordinary, unprecedented offer, this gift, to me, because he looked at me and saw that I might enjoy…being able to leave; saw me. And there it was, the spark, the flame, the will to reach back to him, to receive this precious gesture. How did he know, that I was withering, that I couldn’t find myself any longer? How did he manage to find me? I let myself, the man, surge up briefly, and I smiled and said “Thank you, Cliopher,” and he looked up and saw me seeing him.
________
The work was still real, and so we still did the work.
In the mornings I followed Cliopher’s lead, and spent my time wrangling courtiers and Princes and priest-wizards, issuing proclamations, consulting on strategies, warning off those of Cliopher’s detractors who weren’t useful; all in service of his projects, the purpose of which was always to better steward the resources of all for the benefit of all (See? I do listen). The teamwork and the goal made it bearable; none of these tasks was one I preferred.
In the afternoons I returned to taming the typhoons. I was adding a modification that allowed the project to not destroy a small island southwest of Nijan. (I had been the recipient of one of Cliopher’s speeches about the probable effect on the islander community, and while I always enjoy listening to his rhetorical flights, they do often require something from anyone who takes them seriously.) The modification itself was not large or difficult; the problem with weather magic is that there are so many forces involved, all intertwined, and changing one thing in the almost-completed work had effects elsewhere that had to be dealt with, and those changes had effects…well, the ramifications weren’t infinite, but they were varied and extensive. No matter that; I was solving a problem for Cliopher. It was the least I could do.
The troubling part of my days began in the late afternoons, when I came out of the trance and the greyness and sharpness closed in, and my next task was to spend hours in court playing the golden god. The work on the typhoons was still real; but the work was almost done, and that terrified me. The most thorough and elegant solution to Cliopher’s problem would not take much longer. I had no new project planned after this one; even if I did have, it would take time to set the political and social foundations in order; even if I had the foundations ready I suspected I would need some time before I could begin another great work. I could feel the abyss waiting; not strictures this time, but nothingness. It began to feel inevitable.
Often, when Cliopher greeted me I reached back to him. Just as often, I couldn’t find it in me to reach.
Cliopher’s invitation had reminded me of my old daydreams of escape. I began to toy with those dreams when the nothingness came too close, when I was sitting on the golden throne or lying in bed at night. I had escaped one tower in my life, why not another? (I knew why not). Escaping the tower was a major theme in my life, and in my lost poetry. Thinking of my escape from the Marwyn’s tower led to thoughts of adventuring with my friends, which memories proved to be too painful to use as weapons to stave off the dark. So I tried telling myself a story about escaping from my current tower, with my friends. The fantasy started with accepting Cliopher’s offer and somehow traveling to the summer house in the Vangevaye-ve and discovering there a portal to another world, maybe an unknown world which had never been ravaged by the Empire but where nonetheless there were still good deeds to be done, deeds of valor and magic to be immortalized in song…Yes, it was foolish, but it got me through many nights so that I could get up the next morning and do the work.
Eventually the day came when I had to admit that to do anything more to the typhoons would be frivolous and possibly detrimental. I was done. I was not unaware that it was almost the beginning of the Little Session, when there would be much less work to do in the mornings with Cliopher. When I came out of the trance for the last time, I admit it, I panicked. I may have had a tantrum.
I refused to go to court, and refused all of Conju’s attempts to soothe me out of my mood. I sat in the morning room and focused on my daydream, willing it to be enough to get me through the next few weeks, knowing that it wasn’t, panicking again. I summoned Cliopher. I had no plan, just knew that when I don’t know what to do, I want him by my side.
While I waited for him I found myself wondering if I dared do what would have to be done to make the dream become real.
I came out of my part-daydream, part-unrealistic plan to find Cliopher standing in front of me, having already made his bows.
“We have finished the work on the typhoons,” I said. I did not say that finishing had thrown me into a panic.
“Congratulations, my lord.”
“We did not require the relocation of the Tina’a.” That was important to Cliopher.
“Thank you, my lord.”
I found that I dared. “We shall go to this house of yours tomorrow. We being Conju, yourself, Ser Rhodin, and Commander Omo.” My friends. “Presumably they have kitchen staff.”
I waited.
Finally Cliopher said, “Perhaps a few other guards? It would be hard on Ser Rhodin and Commander Omo otherwise, my lord.”
So far and no further? Of course I would not be able to escape from the tower with my friends. These friends were as invested in the government, in the future welfare of Zunidh, as the Lord Magus was. These friends had given their careers to that cause and that lord and would never run away, even if they knew my sanity was at stake. I felt my power rising with my despair, and bit it back, and looked at Cliopher, who looked back steadily.
And yet. Cliopher had not said, “That’s impossible.” He had not said, “It’s too difficult to arrange such a thing on a moment’s notice.” He had not said, “What will the Princes think?” He had made a simple, practical suggestion, albeit one that complicated the logistics and curtailed my freedom. So. It was not possible to run away. But Cliopher Mdang seemed to think it was possible to take the Lord of the Rising Stars on vacation at a moment’s notice? I began to feel something stirring in me that I had not felt in a very long time.
I nodded. “Very well. Six. Commander Omo will know whom we prefer. You may go prepare.” I strode toward my study to make an impressive exit, but the sudden thought of the Ouranatha gliding into the summer house, robed and masked, surrounding me and pointing out that the Emperor cannot leave the Palace of Stars, made me pause. “Tell no one where we are going,” I said, and (impressively) entered my study.
Once inside, I allowed myself to collapse for a moment, to let the complicated mix of emotions settle a bit. Eventually the hour bell rang. Cliopher would have told Conju the plan by now. Conju, having gotten over his initial horrified reaction, would be creating a veritable whirlwind in the Imperial Apartments to carry out all the preparations he thought necessary for such a trip. It was with barely concealed glee that I headed out to join the fray.