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“Did the note say anything else?” I asked, trying not to show my curiosity. The last time the Lord Chancellor had requested me was so that I could act as the recording secretary for the Council of Princes—a choice I was certain had more to do with my father than my own capabilities. While I'd found the experience eye opening, I could have wished to be requested for myself rather than because of my father's petty rivalry with Lord Mdang.
What could my father have possibly done to warrant my summons on the first day following the Zunidh-wide holiday? I couldn't think of much beyond his ridiculous outburst after the ceremony, but there was surely nothing I could do about that or the rumours that had spread like wildfire afterwards.
I'd been relieved to see my father's sky ship off to Amboloyo two days later, if incredibly annoyed at his admonishment to remember my manners. As if anyone cared about my manners given his.
My father's ridiculousness aside, there was a significant amount of confusion over what anyone's manners should be in the wake of That Ceremony. While it had been far less raucous than all the stories told of That Party—stories I'd most definitely never heard—its place in history would be no less remembered for the moment the Sun-on-Earth came down to meet his Lord Chancellor in the centre of the throne room.
The Glorious and Illustrious One had lost his mantle of serenity in that moment—and not gained it back the entire ceremony. Not that I'd ever say so. There were some things you simply did not say about the Sun-on-Earth if you wanted to continue in anyone's good graces—although everyone in the Private Offices agreed he wouldn't likely execute anyone unless they actually committed treason—and not of the kind constantly attributed to Lord Mdang.
“No. It didn't say much beyond the instruction to present ourselves at the Imperial Apartments. Lord Conju sent it, so it was less informative than it might have been otherwise. Perhaps my uncle…his excellen…argh, what are we supposed to call him now? Is he still the Lord Chancellor?”
“Well, we can't use the term his father has been,” Tully said, giving me an apologetic look.
“I wouldn't recommend it, no,” I said, sighing dramatically to show my opinion of my father's antics. I sometimes wish I'd tried to keep my relationship to my father as secret as Gaudy and Lord Mdang had kept theirs until the Sun-on-Earth had revealed it. “But That Ceremony made his Radiancy's opinions quite clear, so I don't suppose we can simply call him, 'Your Excellency or Lord Chancellor anymore either.”
“You would think they would have discussed it ahead of time—addressed it as part of the announcement,” Zaoul said.
“Between us, his Radiancy tried to have a conversation with my uncle about it,” Gaudy admitted ruefully, shaking his head. “But simply getting my uncle to accept the Lord Chancellorship was difficult enough. This is—”
“No wonder my father can't understand him,” I said, wishing my father cared less about power and the perception of power than actually making the world better. Not that he hadn't, of course, but so much of the good he'd done for Amboloyo had been because he'd been goaded into it by Lord Mdang—or by mother. “He hates that he is constantly being outclassed by someone who has no idea how to play the Game of Courts.”
We stopped talking to focus on the staircases leading up to the Imperial Apartments—not one of us wanting to arrive looking winded, no matter how fast we climbed the stairs.
I forced my thoughts away from my father and towards Lord Mdang. We absolutely could not call him Lord Consort, no matter how much the ceremony we had all witnessed had certainly felt like a wedding.
Perhaps the Sun-on-Earth and Lord Mdang might marry one day—and given how much they'd gazed at each other even before they could ever touch, I wouldn't be at all surprised if they did—if the ceremony had been intended as a wedding, it most certainly would have been announced as one.
Better that it wasn't, I thought, given how the Lord Emperor had done everything that he could to show that he considered Lord Mdang as his equal—well, besides stating it officially. Given what He had said prior to the ceremony, I imagined that not announcing it officially had everything to do with Lord Mdang rather than any hesitation whatsoever on the part of the Sun-on-Earth.
As we made it to the top of the final staircase and turned towards the grand doors leading to the Imperial Apartments, guarded by two impressively clad imperial guards, I turned my mind to the matter of titles.
“If our goal is to make his Radiancy pleased, we should refer to Lord Mdang in a way that shows we respect his desire for Lord Mdang to be his equal. But Lord Mdang isn’t the Sun-on-Earth, so—”
Gaudy exchanged looks with Zaoul and Tully. “What would you recommend then, Lord Eldo?” he asked.
I hesitated but couldn't think of anything better—and I didn't think it would upset Lord Mdang that much. “I thought we could simply call him, My lord, or My Lord Mdang.”
They glanced at each other again—this time more assessing, questioning, contemplative. “It is only slightly different from Lord Mdang,” Zaoul said. “He might not even notice.”
“But no one but the emperor is called My lord,” Tully said. “At least not in public—so it could work. Gaudy?”
Lord Mdang's nephew nodded. “My uncle hates titles, so I doubt we can please him,” he admitted. “But I think his Radiancy would love it.” He gave me a warm smile. “Thanks Lord Eldo.”
I blushed fiercely at the kind words. “We shouldn't keep him waiting,” I said, hurriedly turning away before any of them could say something.
***
While I'd spent time in the Imperial Apartments as a page, I'd never gone beyond the first anteroom where a handful of pages were stationed at all hours of the day in the event that his Radiancy needed something.
I smiled in passing at the current crop of pages waiting not-so-patiently as the guards in the first anteroom went through the ceremony of announcing us to the guards in the second.
The pages—four in total, suggesting one was off on an errand—smiled back, then one whispered something to the others and they all laughed. I gritted my teeth and turned away. While I couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, it was impossible not to know what they were talking about—me, or more correctly, my father.
“Ignore them,” Gaudy whispered under his breath. “They don't know you.”
I spun towards him in complete surprise; rather than amusement, there was an unexpected understanding in Gaudy's brilliant brown eyes. “Oh?” I managed, not at all sure what that meant. Did Gaudy think that he knew me? I mean, we had been working together since we were in the pages, but I didn't think that we were friends. Not really. Not like he was friends with Zaoul and Tully.
The friends I'd made over the years liked me because I was the third son of the Prince of Amboloyo—or at least they had before I joined the service. These days, most of them were quite happy to ignore me. And that was fine. I liked what I was doing. I enjoyed working with Saya Kalikiri. I liked working for the Lord Emperor. He wasn't anything like my father had made him out to be. My father would never have randomly stopped in to chat with a bunch of junior secretaries. And even if the Lord Emperor had really just wanted to visit Lord Mdang, he'd made sure to speak to each of us too.
Gaudy bumped his shoulder into mine, giving me another smile. “You're not your father.” He looked ready to say more, but then stopped dead in the middle of the final anteroom before his Radiancy's study. As much as I'd never seen it before, I knew it immediately for its shimmering mirrors—so many mirrors—covering every wall from floor to ceiling. “Oh,” he said, clearly surprised.
I knew he'd been to visit the Lord Emperor's study on numerous occasions—he was helping him with some kind of project that required weekly meetings—so something had obviously changed. I glanced around the anteroom. Four imperial guards stood at attention—two in front of a door directly across from the one we'd just entered and two at a wall to the left. I immediately understood the implications. The anterooms always had a pair of facing guards; if there were two sets of guards, they were protecting two doors—one leading to the Sun-on-Earth and the other, obviously, to Lord Mdang. The door directly ahead had to lead to the Sun-on-Earth, which meant—
Before I could finish my thought, our guard escort looked to the pair of the guards on the left. “Lord Mdang's secretaries and Lord Eldo by request,” he said.
The guards saluted magnificently, then stamped their spears. A well-hidden door opened in the wall, enough to let light in from the room beyond. I heard a murmur as one of the anteroom guards spoke to what I presumed was another inside. If that wasn't proof of Lord Mdang's new position, I wasn't sure what was. I glanced at Gaudy and the others to make sure they'd noticed.
Gaudy snickered quietly. At my look, he winked. “I'm sure he hates this.”
I tried not to think about how much my father would love such an elevation. But of course, Lord Mdang was most demonstrably not my father—would likely, as Gaudy suggested, hate all the etiquette and rituals and requirements that came with his new position.
I considered this fact as the guard gestured us through, the others hanging back ever-so-slightly to let me take the lead. Even as I crossed the threshold of the room, my eyes found Lord Mdang—sitting at a desk, writing in some kind of notebook with what looked like an enchanted pen. Of course, that would likely be the easiest option given how he was now subject to the imperial taboos.
Despite the fact he was sitting, I could pick out at least three layers to Lord Mdang's robes—bronze and midnight blue and gold—at least one with intricate embroidery and actual jewels sewn into patterns. He looked magnificent, radiant, like someone who was meant to be the equal of the Sun-on-Earth. I knew then what we had to do. I flicked my fingers at the others in the old pages' sign for His Radiancy—it was one every page learned before they were ever allowed out on an errand.
Without a backward glance, I stepped right into the middle of the floor and dropped into the full formal obeisance that was only ever given to his Radiancy. I held the position for a moment, then tilted my head up ever-so-slightly in the way that had been drilled into me as a child, enough that I could see Lord Mdang’s hands resting on the desk. I carefully did not look at his face, well aware that he would likely be shocked. The last thing I wanted was to bear witness to the embarrassment of the moment. That would surely not help whatever matter had brought him to summon me.
After a few moments—far longer than was customary, although I expected that was more out of surprise than any desire to castigate us—Lord Mdang’s hand curled into the signal to rise. With a fluid motion, I picked up my writing kit and stood up. I could hear the other secretaries do the same behind me, then step forward so that we were in a single line. I glanced over at Gaudy, who was openly staring at his uncle. Taking that for a cue, I looked at Lord Mdang directly. The former lord chancellor and now—most esteemed bonded partner to the Sun-on-Earth, my thoughts supplied, although I wasn’t sure Lord Mdang would appreciate that description either, was smiling. “Lord Eldo, Gaudy, Tully, Zaoul. Thank you for coming so promptly.”
“Of course, my lord,” I said, immediately, hearing my answer echoed by the others. Lord Mdang’s smile didn’t change at the title; I let out the softest of relieved breaths.
“I hope you all took some time off this past week?”
“Yes, my lord,” we said. Technically, I wasn’t lying. I’d taken the time until my father’s sky ship had departed off because he was well aware that the time had been granted. Once he was on his way back to Amboloyo, however, I’d gladly volunteered to work on the skeleton crew maintaining the Private Offices during the vacation as I had no desire to be readily accessible to all of the discussions following what my father had said.
Both Saya Kalikiri and Sayu Aioru had welcomed my help gladly. Neither of them had taken any time off, too busy working to get Sayu Aioru up to speed as he would be taking over as Secretary in Chief of the Private Offices as soon as he felt confident he could do so without causing any turmoil. Spending most of the week assisting them had been far more interesting that roaming the halls with nothing to do but get even more frustrated and annoyed with my father.
“Gaudy, did you hear from your mother?” Lord Mdang asked, looking at Gaudy. “I assume the family all got home safe?”
I winced at the size of Gaudy’s grin. “Oh yes, Mama wrote me a letter saying how eye opening the visit was,” he answered brightly. “She told me to thank his Radiancy for arranging the visit. She also told me to tell you that she'll write soon. She said that you'll have enough to keep you busy for at least a week or two, so she doesn't want to bother you.”
Lord Mdang laughed, which seemed an odd reaction to something so matter-of-fact. Gaudy’s mother was Lord Mdang’s sister, so of course she’d understand how busy Lord Mdang would be after That Ceremony. But then Gaudy added, “I suspect she was referring to the number of letters you'd be receiving from the rest of the family rather than to your actual work.”
Ah, I thought as Lord Mdang chuckled again. An inside joke. I wondered at a family so comfortable with each other that they could find humour in talking about letters. I pushed down the pang of jealousy at the idea of getting piles of correspondence. I was lucky to receive one letter a month—and it was usually from my mother.
“Have there been a lot of letters?” Lord Mdang asked.
That question was obviously not directed at me. I took a step backwards, giving Gaudy and Tully and Zaoul precedence as Lord Mdang’s secretaries. Even as I stepped back, Tully stepped forward. “In general, or from Gorjo City, my lord?”
Lord Mdang’s eyebrows rose. “Both?”
Tully nodded firmly. “From across Zunidh, there were four thousand, six-hundred, and twenty-nine letters sent to you since the announcement of the ceremony, my lord,” she said. I nodded at this, well aware of the number given that Saya Kalikiri was keeping a tally on a board in her office.
“From Gorjo City, one hundred and twelve,” Tully continued, sharing a number I wasn’t aware of. “Twenty-three of the people in Gorjo City wrote more than once. Gaudy helped me sort those by the ones you might want to read sooner. I have those ones in my writing kit if you'd like them?”
“Yes, please,” Lord Mdang said, looking not at all surprised by the number of letters from his home. Then, maybe he wasn’t given the apparent propensity for letters in his family.
***
I waited attentively for nearly a bell as Lord Mdang’s secretaries walked him through a multitude of letters, the matter of audiences, and various ministerial reports. As the three-quarter bell tolled, Lord Mdang hastily shifted the pile of reports Gaudy had presented him with to the side of his desk and looked directly at me.
I held steady, refusing to back down from whatever he wanted to say. I was used to people taking their frustrations at my father out on me; I could handle Lord Mdang doing the same. I could. But there wasn’t even a hint of ambivalence, annoyance, or amusement on Lord Mdang’s face. If anything, he looked—excited? “Ah, my apologies Lord Eldo,” he said, giving me a rueful look. “I got quite carried away with current affairs given how long it has been since I've had time to focus on them. I did ask you here for a reason.”
“It's no matter at all, my lord,” I said, trying to swallow my complete surprise. “I’m entirely at your service!”
Lord Mdang nodded perfunctorily. “Yes, well, I was speaking to Tor this morning about his trouble finding a good secretary. I mentioned that you, Gaudy, Tully, and Zaoul were the best junior secretaries to come through the Service in years.”
My cheeks flushed hot. I wanted to believe it was at the idea of Lord Mdang calling his Radiancy, Tor, in such a fond manner, but I knew I’d be lying. “Oh,” was all I could manage. “Thank you, my lord.”
His lips curled into a faint smile. “At the same time, I noted that each of you was excellent at different things—and, as such, I proposed that perhaps it might work best if we share all four of you.”
Four—I dropped my jaw as I realized what Lord Mdang was suggesting, what he was proposing, what he was asking. Tears of relief, of joy, of some feeling I couldn’t name tried to escape my eyes. I had to blink hard to keep them back, even as I tried desperately to school my face to a calm that would allow me to say what I was thinking without—“You want me to work with you, my lord?” I asked, hating the uncertainty in my voice.
“Yes, Lord Eldo. We both do—if you're amenable?”
Both. I blushed even harder. I had never imagined— “Yes. Yes, my lord. That is, I'd be honoured to serve both you and his Radiancy.”
Lord Mdang glanced over at Gaudy, Zaoul, and Tully. “I assume you three won't mind working with Lord Eldo—and having your duties expand to include both Tor and I?”
“We'd be honoured,” Gaudy said, giving me what seemed to be a genuine smile.
I smiled hesitantly back. We’d all worked together regularly before they’d been appointed as Lord Mdang’s secretaries. I’d missed the strange comradery—had never thought there might be a chance to get it back. I exchanged nods with Tully and Zaoul as well, then turned back to Lord Mdang, ready for whatever directions he wanted to provide me—us—with. But he wasn’t watching us at all. Well, he was looking, but it was quite obvious he wasn’t seeing. And then he shut his eyes entirely.
“It’s fine,” Gaudy whispered under his breath. “Just give him a moment.”
I raised an eyebrow. He shrugged apologetically. But then, he was Lord Mdang’s nephew. If anyone knew things that perhaps weren’t common knowledge, it would be him.
A couple of minutes later, Lord Mdang smiled brilliantly and opened his eyes. I sucked in a breath, entirely confused. He must have heard it, because he looked at me directly, his smile fading into a mild look of embarrassment. “After the ceremony last week, Tor and I found that we could speak to each other silently,” he said explained simply, quietly, calmly.
My reaction wasn’t at all calm; I gasped loud enough that half the palace could hear it. Thankfully, Lord Mdang deigned not to notice. “Needless to say—” he continued. “—we're not particularly practiced with it yet, so it's quite obvious when we're speaking to each other. You have our permission to interrupt if we…get distracted for too long.”
I wasn’t sure what was more surprising—learning that his Radiancy and Lord Mdang could speak mind to mind or learning that they wanted us to interrupt them. Interrupting the Sun-on-Earth wasn’t something that someone did—not if they didn’t want to be executed or exiled.
Lord Mdang seemed to realize that none of us were going to acknowledge that particular order. He smiled ruefully. “I think I have plenty to keep me busy today. I'll go through everything you've given me and have notes for you to act on tomorrow. I fully expect you'll have numerous requests for appointments to wade through this afternoon, so there's no use trying to give you any other work just yet.” He smiled kindly, appreciatively, almost fondly. “Now, Tor wants to see you, so why don't you head over to his office?”
***
His Radiancy, the Sun-on-Earth, the Lord of Rising Stars, Lord of Zunidh, and Last Emperor of Astandalas wasn’t beaming when we stood up from our obeisances. He wasn’t because no one would dare to suggest that he was, or mention that his entire face was glowing with humour and joy and intense fondness.
“Good morning, Gaudy, Zaoul, Tully, Eldo,” he said in a tone I’d call cheerful if speaking about anyone else. “I see you’ve survived your first morning with my slightly disgruntled fanoa?”
The strange word meant nothing to me, but it certainly did to Gaudy. My fellow secretary’s eyes widened dramatically, and his mouth dropped open like a fish. “Fanoa? You mean Uncle Kip finally—"
His Radiancy didn’t grin like a three-year old given some candy at Lord Mdang’s nephew. “He did. Although, it might best if we keep that between us until he’s ready to—” He paused, face going blank in the same way Lord Mdang’s had earlier. Talking silently to each other, I thought, amazed by the very idea; it seemed like something out of a storybook. After a moment, his Radiancy blinked and focused again on the room, on Gaudy. “Never mind,” he said, somewhat ruefully. “I suppose I will grow accustomed to the fact I can’t protect Kip from my own thoughts.”
Gaudy didn’t say anything to that—although I wasn’t quite sure what he could have said in response to the Sun-on-Earth voicing concerns about his own thoughts. I twisted the idea that his Radiancy could have doubts around in my head. It was a disconcerting thought. Every time I’d interacted with him previously, the Last Emperor had come across as perfectly serene, perfectly glorious, perfectly comfortable in his choices and decisions and actions.
I didn’t count That Ceremony, of course, when the Lord of Rising Stars had been—dare I admit it—entirely captivated, and entranced, and besotted by Lord Mdang. Surely the overwhelming cascade of magic that had filled the throne room had been responsible for that breach of the Sun-on-Earth’s glory. Surely.
“It was Kip’s idea to have the four of you work for us together. Given our connection, I believe it’s both an excellent use of resources and a good sign to the court,” his Radiancy continued. “But I did want to confirm that all four of you are agreeable to the proposition. I appreciate working for both of us will mean more work than it might be otherwise.”
The Sun-on-Earth glanced at Gaudy. From the soft, inquisitive look he gave Lord Mdang’s nephew, I could believe that they knew each other far more familiarly than most knew the Last Emperor of Astandalas. I wondered at the project they’d been working on together for so long. No doubt it was something related to Lord Mdang—even if it had started long before his Radiancy’s heart attack.
Gaudy bent his head nominally, whereas I likely would have given a deep bow. “I believe I speak for all of us in saying that it would be a pleasure, my lord.” I immediately nodded—as did Zaoul and Gaudy.
“Excellent,” his Radiancy said, smiling in what could not be relief. As if any of us would have said no to working directly for him in addition to Lord Mdang. There were certain assignments one simply did not refuse to if a person wanted any future in the Service. This was most definitely one—not that I would ever have refused. I was simply glad that neither he nor Lord Mdang had held my father’s words against me—that they were willing to give me a chance to prove myself. It felt as if a great weight had fallen from my shoulders. I loved my father, but I wanted to be known for my own thoughts and capabilities. I wanted to change the world, not fight against every possibility of advancement.
“In that case,” the Sun-on-Earth said after a moment, “I shall let you go about your work. Kip assures me that you will be more than busy enough prioritizing our correspondence and any requests for audiences. I should look forward to seeing two of you tomorrow at the third bell. The others should report to Kip.”
***
None of us spoke as we made our way out of the Imperial Apartments and began the descent down to the Private Offices. I could already foresee getting significantly more exercise if we’d be making the climb to the Tower multiple times a day—which, we probably would. “Where have you been working?” I asked Gaudy as we headed down the third flight of stairs.
He flashed me a smile. “We were working out of the Lord of Zunidh’s suites, but right now the Ouranatha have them sealed so they can be purified. So we’ve just been working out of the same room as the new team handling Lord Mdang’s correspondence.”
I shook my head. “That won’t do at all,” I told him. “Particularly not if we’re also going to be handling correspondence for the Sun-on-Earth. We’ll need a completely secure office that is magically locked to our signatures—and to Them of course. I don’t imagine that Lord Mdang will be so polite as to always stay in his office.”
Gaudy laughed out loud. “It’s like you know him, Lord Eldo.”
“It’s only been six months since we worked on that project together,” I said rolling my eyes. “He can’t have changed that much—beyond the ability to speak to the Sun-on-Earth telepathically, that is.” I gave him a look, “You totally knew, didn’t you?”
He glanced away. “Maybe,” he admitted shyly. “But I wasn’t certain what they were going to tell people, so I couldn’t give you a head’s up. Sorry.”
“Fair enough,” I said. “If you did, I doubt you’d be working for Them—even if Lord Mdang is your uncle.”
“He’s not wrong,” Tully agreed, nodding at me. “I remember how his Radiancy was the one who brought your relationship to light.”
I considered that idea, found a wild suspicion rising in my thoughts. “You don’t suppose he did it on purpose, do you?”
Gaudy let out a long sigh. Then, he’d probably wondered the same thing any number of times. “If he did, he’s never admitted to it.”
“Well, it’s not as if the Sun-on-Earth is going to admit to a bit of gremlinry.”
“Probably not,” he agreed. Then he curled his lips up into an obviously amused smile. “I expect that’s more your father’s style.”
I sputtered, then let out a gusty laugh because he wasn’t wrong and we all knew it. Gaudy grinned, then bumped his shoulder companionably against mine. I smiled back, suddenly very warm. Oh, how I’d missed our back and forth, I thought, unable to pull away from the delighted look in his eyes.
It was an honour beyond compare, particularly given who my father was, to be asked to work directly for his Radiancy and Lord Mdang. Of course, it was. And I was incredibly honoured. But the chance to have this every day, to be able to work and laugh and share jokes with Gaudy—and Zaoul and Tully—to be understood, to possibly even become true friends, suddenly felt like the real honour.