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Spring was taking its time coming this year. The Emperor of Barrayar knew his sons were particularly glad to have their ‘Oncle Van’ back from the south continent. As he had the previous winter, Ivan Patril had spent time down there in training, working himself and his horses up for the coming season. He was able to continue to work them in indoor arenas while the weather continued sodden.
Fortunately he was also able to work two energetic boys indoors as well, although not as cheerfully as usual. The death of the old groom had taken him hard. Even the boys noticed. His younger son was deeply attached to his ‘oncle’ and always kissed his cheek and hugged him before running off for tea. It was rarer for Xav but he also hugged him tightly before dashing after his brother. Ivan watched them go and didn’t move from sitting on the floor.
Gregor Vorbarra was as attached to his cousin as his sons were. Ivan should have received accolades instead of exile. He’d spent two years on Escobar making a new life in a society that, while not actively hostile, was passively opposed to most things Barrayaran. He’d returned to find a society where some were actively hostile. Vordrozhda’s last bit of poison had been taken up by opportunists who had insisted, on his return, that he’d been part of the plot. Even Imperial approval, acknowledgement of him as family, and the reprimand of Count Vormoncrief hadn’t cleansed the ground.
The emperor leaned back against the wall and then slid down to sit beside him.
“What’s going on, Van?”
He sighed. “Am I doing any good?”
The Emperor of Barrayar put an arm around his shoulders and hugged him as his sons had. The gesture clearly startled his cousin.
“Never doubt it,” he said quietly and forcefully. “I never wanted you to leave and I’m damned glad you came back, that you saw a different future for us all. Laisa and you. I’ve begun to see a way…”
Ivan leaned into his shoulder, another unprecedented act, and sighed again, deeply but with less pain. “OK.”
Gregor let the moment stretch and hugged him again. “What can I do?”
“You’ve done it,” Ivan told him. “We had as much freedom as they could give us. I want them to have more. It wasn’t deliberate-- no, it wasn’t intentional but if we never leave here, we can’t know what else is possible.”
He chuckled. “Yes, being off-world with Miles is certainly enlightening.”
Ivan laughed. “Well, without Miles too… no, I’d been safely cocooned until he got involved.”
“Until Escobar.”
“Certainly there was a lot less scrambling panic. Mostly there weren’t the expectations or they were simpler and more straightforward. I lost that itch between my shoulder blades and could look around.”
“Van, when you came back from chasing Miles down that first time, you started making your plans.”
He shuddered. “OK, yeah.”
“They were in place when you needed them, when I needed them. Now I need you again. I thought we were doing a good job but I don’t think we were doing a good enough job. It isn’t just the fishbowl. It’s having no experience of the lives people live. You don’t just talk to people, you listen to them.”
“Gregor,” he protested, “you’re the best listener I’ve ever met.”
“But I don’t get to listen to them, all the ‘thems’ out there. You bring Barrayar to me. You bring it to my children, to all our children. What you tell me about running in the streets, and your haberdasher, and what you notice about the south, tells me things that ImpSec can’t or doesn’t. Not about security, about what you experience.” He felt his cousin shiver again and tightened his arm. “You may not see it as important but my job is the future of Barrayar. What you tell me about what people are thinking, what they care about has given me much to think about. I’ve begun to see a different way forward. You’re used to a clear purpose. I have one for you. Or I will.”
“That makes me very afraid.”
His cousin chuckled, with an evil undertone. “For right now, rugrats. All of us.”
“Gregor—”
“Cousin, we’re going to have a daughter. And she will need you more than my sons.”
Ivan went very still.
“I know you’re struggling right now. This idea of your mother’s, the Trust, and what Tante Cordelia has told me you want to do with it is very much in line with what I’m considering. Keep opening doors. Be Rugrat 1. Become the top amateur. Convince them to change saddle design. Set up your Cossacks. Keep bringing me cream cakes from your bakery. And when Vann Vorgustafson calls you, give him a hand.”
“Not Miles?”
“He’ll be aimed at other things.” Ivan snickered. “Don’t pretend you don’t recognize the importance of keeping him aimed… This kind of analysis is your specialty and it will take some time.”
“Not the sort of thing a playboy philanthropist would be doing?”
“Exactly.”
“I am no less afraid than I was a few moments ago. I can tell I’m being aimed as well.”
“Good. Oh, and so you know, Vann suggested you might help him. This isn’t make work.”
Afraid or not, his cousin was starting to look more cheerful. Which was good. Ivan’s good cheer was important to him. And he hadn’t even had to throw in time using the grav chamber as a bribe.