Chapter Text
The first sign that something was very wrong was that the page interrupted Cliopher’s meeting with the Prince of Western Dair to bring him the note. The second sign was the sheer terseness of the note. It read, in Lord Eldo’s hand, Lord Mdang, please report to the Imperial Apartments as soon as possible.
Cliopher stared at it. Then he looked up at the Prince, who inquired, “Something urgent enough to interrupt us, Lord Mdang?” with the certainty that nothing could be urgent enough to interrupt one of the most important men in the world.
“I’m afraid so,” Cliopher said.
He took the stairs up to the Imperial Apartments somewhat faster than his normal (which he could tell primarily because Tully and Zaoul struggled to keep up). He was ordinarily too used to the seven antechambers, the seven doorways, the seven sets of announcements of his presence, to chafe at them, but today —
(Surely it could not be anything too disastrous? The outer guards looked as smoothly implacable as always; the lights of the Palace, thank the gods, shone with a calm serenity that Cliopher thought he would never take for granted again; there were no messages from the Offices of State about a political crisis. Surely, surely —)
At last those last set of doors swung open and Cliopher stepped inside the study, leaving Zaoul and Tully in the antechamber as was their usual practice. The sight of his Radiancy pacing a rapid swatch across the room settled the better part of his nerves as he sank into the obeisance. He was not sure what he had been expecting, but —
“Kip, there you are, thank goodness — oh, you really needn’t bother, it’s so tiresome, isn’t it —” as his Radiancy’s hand moved in that habitual gesture to tell Cliopher to stand — “and I’ve begun already, I suppose going an entire thirty seconds without blurting out something I didn’t wish to would be too long to ask, wouldn’t it, not this spell’s style.” Cliopher rose and stared at his Radiancy, who had returned to pacing, faster than his usual habit, feet moving as quickly as his mouth, which had not yet stopped speaking. “And I must say, well, am compelled to say, I suppose, that I feel terrifically stupid for falling prey to any kind of hostile spell at all — I suppose it could be a poison but that seems unlikely when I know Ludvic and Rhodin have procedures for checking my food, and even if I do feel very foolish for missing something in my own area of expertise I suppose it’s better to feel foolish than to have Ludvic or Rhodin or both come to prostrate themselves to me with their deepest apologies, it always frightens me when they do that —”
Cliopher opened his mouth to say something and then closed it, stymied by the complete lack of a spare moment to inject into the middle of this extraordinary monologue. It did not seem particularly necessary, regardless; Cliopher thought he understood the problem fairly well by now.
“— and of course that’s another thing that I’ve said aloud that I didn’t mean to, though at least they aren’t here to see it, though I suppose Pikabe and Ato might tell at least Ludvic, though I hope you don’t — that’s not an order, you don’t need to follow it, though of course from the fucking Lord of Ten Thousand Titles I suppose saying that won’t even matter, it never has before —”
Hearing his Radiancy swear was more than a little shocking. There was something wild, almost manic, in his voice, which was clipping along at as rapid and as relentless a pace as his steps were.
Eldo, sitting at the secretary’s desk, was watching Cliopher with wide, alarmed eyes. The silent plea for help was obvious.
Cliopher cleared his throat.
“Oh, Kip, I am sorry, only I can’t stop, you see? You’ll have to talk over me, I think, I swear I don’t mind, I should rather listen to you than to the sound of my own voice any day of the week regardless and oh it really doesn’t stop, does it!” Something rose in his Radiancy’s voice, some bubble of perhaps hilarity. He rounded the corner of his habitual pacing route then, facing back towards Cliopher, so Cliopher could see his face, drawn tighter than Cliopher was used to seeing it, visible under what was left of the serenity, and his eyes — his eyes were huge and fixed on Cliopher with an emotion that Cliopher couldn’t quite place — “Kip, please, I need you to do one of your petty treasons here, gods, fuck, I have tried so hard not to ask, I didn’t want to, I don’t want —” He was still coming closer along that habitual path and his eyes —
Abruptly Cliopher placed the expression. It was terror. His Radiancy was terrified.
“My lord,” Cliopher said, firmly, over his Radiancy. His Radiancy took a little shuddering intake of breath, and there was a look of — was that relief, on his face? For such a small thing? The way he was looking at Cliopher, the naked plea on his face — Cliopher couldn’t help but answer it. “Tor,” he said. “May I suggest you try to take a deep breath, to start, and then tell me what you need?”
His Radiancy slowed, stopped a bare two feet away from Cliopher, took a deep breath that was almost even, exhaled, and then, like it was wrenched out of his throat, said, “Kip, help.”
“Right,” Cliopher said instantly, shocked down to his core but he had to push that aside, right now; his lord, his friend, needed him. This was a problem to solve like any other, an options analysis that he could do for his Radiancy to help break through the panic. “How long has this been going on for, and who else has been sent for, who knows?”
“Forty minutes, perhaps, and only you. I tried to unpick the spell on myself, first, only I couldn’t see what was happening, and I couldn’t concentrate enough to go into the deep trance, I’d already said something to poor Eldo here about his grasp on economic politics, which really is perfectly acceptable only I’m so used to you that all my standards are absurd, not that knowing that helps me really, and it made it very difficult to concentrate because he really is very good and of course I’d let him go if I make him uncomfortable only I don’t want a different secretary, well besides you of course, but —”
Cliopher did in fact seem to have to just talk over him. It felt deeply strange and more than a little wrong, but that was what his lord needed from him, so he would. “Lord Eldo,” he said, “would you send a page for Domina Audry, Commander Omo, and Ser Rhodin, please?”
“Oh, must we have them all come, no, I know they must, only I don’t want them to, you and Eldo and Pikabe and Ato are already bad enough. I don’t want them to hear, oh don’t look at me like that, send the page, you should, I know you should.” His Radiancy turned away, pacing down the long edge of the room away from them.
Cliopher didn’t know what his face was doing, only that it was probably nothing good. Lord Eldo looked to Cliopher with a helpless expression, surely torn, as much as Cliopher was, by the contrast between the order and that plaintive I don’t want them to.
Only… only Cliopher couldn’t see a way around involving them. Poison or magic, his Radiancy had thought, and the doctor and the guards would be the best to evaluate whether it was poison, and either way Rhodin would need to investigate how on earth this had happened. More knowledge could only be good. He nodded to Eldo and said, “Send one, please,” softly, and Eldo nodded fast and got up and went outside to do so.
Once the door shut behind him, Cliopher spoke above the muttering, too quiet to hear. “My lord?”
“Won’t you keep calling me by name?” his Radiancy said. “That’s not an order — you don’t have to, you never have to, I’ve tried not to ask —”
I’ve tried not to ask. Gods. Cliopher said, “Tor,” and he could hear that despite his best efforts some of his emotions had crept into his voice to thicken it. “Would you like to — until the others arrive,” and Conju was going to be furious for not being included in those others at this time, but Cliopher didn’t dare to add more people to that list of essential people, not when his Radiancy had protested even them, “would you like to sit in your private study? I can sit in there with you, or wait outside, if you’d rather be alone.”
Pikabe and Ato stirred, possibly at the insinuation that they should leave his Radiancy alone while he was clearly vulnerable and in an altered state of mind, where he might more easily come to harm. Cliopher glared at them. If their presence was harming him now, then surely that was as important?
They subsided back to pretending to be furniture.
“Alone,” his Radiancy said, “please,” and Cliopher — Cliopher pushed aside his own reaction to that. His Radiancy deserved privacy. Especially when he was scared. If it was — easier for him, to be alone, then — then he should have that.
“Right,” Cliopher said briskly, and led the way to the private study. Pikabe and Ato did not protest against this. “I’ll wait here for the others.”
He tried not to feel anything, watching the door close on his Radiancy, and more or less succeeded at it, but only because the door opened again less than ten seconds later. “Kip, I can’t.” His Radiancy’s voice was very small. “I can’t be alone. It hurts, it’s a — a compulsion, I —”
When Cliopher found the person who had done this to him, he was going to make them regret it.
He went to the door of the study and paused on the threshold. “May I?” he asked, as gently as he could. “Or would you rather have somebody else?”
His Radiancy squeezed his eyes shut. Oh, but his face looked so expressive right now, like the shell of the serenity had been cracked open to reveal the inner man. That that had been done to him, done against his will, was an abomination. “I want you but I’m scared. I don’t want to hurt you — not you of all people —”
Where had that come from? “You won’t hurt me,” Cliopher said, bewildered. “How could you? Why would you?”
“But I always hurt people when I’m honest.”
Cliopher stared at him, struck entirely and completely mute.
His Radiancy cracked one eye open and then shut it again immediately. “Don’t look at me like that,” he whispered, “I hate it when you’re upset. You should never be upset, good things only for my dear Kip.”
Oh, but it was too early in the day for his Radiancy to have already said at least five heart-wrenching things. Cliopher stepped into the private study and shut the door behind him. He could have said that he wasn’t upset, but that would be a lie, so instead he said, “You won’t hurt me,” and put all the conviction he had into it.
“Haven’t I already? You’re upset. You weren’t before.” He said it entirely seriously.
Cliopher had no idea how to defuse that particular chain of logic besides the honest truth, which was, “I’m upset because you’re upset, but it would hurt me worse to not be able to help you. So you see, really you’re being kind to me by letting me come in, my — Tor.” His Radiancy’s shoulders were hunched, scrunched in on himself, and looking at him made Cliopher ache. He wanted — he wanted to — he looked around, searching.
“Rules lawyer,” his Radiancy muttered.
“Always,” Cliopher said absently. Oh, there. The violet angora was folded up neatly on the duvet. Cliopher picked it up and turned. “May I — would you like —”
His Radiancy opened his eyes at that. “Oh,” he said, very quietly. “Yes. Please. If you don’t mind.”
“I would like to,” Cliopher said, as softly, and went to wrap his Radiancy up in it again.
His Radiancy talked, of course, all through the process. “I miss proper hugs,” he said plaintively, “with skin contact, and where I’m allowed to hug back, I want to be able to hold you properly.” Cliopher hesitated — was there another arrangement that would be better? He couldn’t quite think of — “Gods, but this is already excruciating and it’s only been, what, an hour? No please don’t stop, Kip, please — oh,” as Cliopher wrapped his arms around the blanket bundle of his Radiancy and squeezed him as tightly as he could, since that was fairly clear direction.
His Radiancy was warm, and solid, and shaking. He leaned what felt like half his body weight into Cliopher, who shifted to brace himself so he could steady him properly. “That’s very nice,” his Radiancy whispered. “I feel like I really should be focusing on figuring out how to disenchant myself but I’d much rather do this instead.”
“That work will be easier if you can be calm and focused,” Cliopher said, in his most reasonable bureacrat’s voice, “so this is surely a reasonable preliminary action to any such activity.”
His Radiancy laughed quietly against him, a tremor Cliopher felt in his whole body, and murmured, “I’m not actually certain I’m capable of being calm or focused under these circumstances. Kip, I’m scared, I hate this.”
Cliopher didn’t actually think he could hold him tighter than he already was. “I know,” he whispered. “We’ll fix this.”
“Is Eldo all right, do you think? And Pikabe and Ato, though I said less to them, I think, I was talking with Eldo when it kicked in and it took me a few minutes to understand what was happening. I don’t want him to be upset — he really is very good and I hope he understands that by now, he’s already lasted for weeks longer than the last few, and —”
Cliopher cut him off again, as he was showing signs of descending into a longer ramble. It was interesting — very interesting — that his Radiancy seemed to be able to stop talking to listen if somebody else was speaking, and he made a note to consider that in more detail in a bit. “He seemed a little overwhelmed, but I didn’t see anything more than that. I can check in with him later, though, if you’d like.”
“Yes. Please.”
“Is there —” Cliopher hesitated, because he wasn’t at all certain that he ought to ask, but he didn’t understand, and it was hurting his Radiancy, whatever it was that frightened him so much about this — “Is there anything specific you’re afraid of?”
“I criticized him,” his Radiancy said. “Kip, people have killed themselves because I criticized them.”
That hit Cliopher like a punch to the stomach. His Radiancy must have felt some of that reaction, because he shrank back, trying to pull free of the circle of Cliopher’s arms, and that was not right, that was not what Cliopher had — He tightened his grip, one hard squeeze, and said, “Oh, Tor.”
The words kept bubbling out of his Radiancy, a helpless torrent. “Desur of Erldan, Goroghen the Tailor, Nina Firunzky, Lord Saiverdell. All in the first six months, before I learned what not to say, but I think about them still — all the time — I didn’t know, Kip, I didn’t mean to —”
Oh, his poor lord. “Of course you didn’t mean to,” Cliopher said, because of course he hadn’t. “How could you have known? You grew up far from court, you didn’t learn the customs — I insulted far more than four people by accident when I came to court, only I wasn’t —” Cliopher wasn’t the emperor, whose whim was law. And of course it weighed so heavily on him; Cliopher had seen himself, hadn’t he, the way Woodlark haunted him still, always would.
“You weren’t the emperor. Kip, please, I don’t want to hurt anyone else, please, I swore to myself that I wouldn’t, never again —”
“You won’t,” Cliopher said, recklessly, meaning every word. “I will not allow whoever’s done this to you to use it to hurt you, and I won’t allow them to use you to hurt other people with it, either.”
“You promise? Don’t —”
“I promise.”
Cliopher had to strain to hear his Radiancy’s next words, small and muffled in the cloth that they were. “You can’t possibly promise that but somehow I’m reassured anyway. It’s hard not to believe you when you’re using that voice.”
Cliopher swallowed hard, his throat thick abruptly with the weight of that promise. He could not disappoint that trust. He never wanted to disappoint his Radiancy, of course, but this of all things — Cliopher would not fail him.
“And, my — Tor, if I may be so bold —”
“You should know by now that you can always say whatever you like to me,” his Radiancy said.
“The power imbued in the person of the emperor is an abomination, and it is an abomination that is not your fault,” Cliopher said. He filled his voice with as much iron steel and conviction as he could, though he knew (oh, he knew) that this kind of demon was hard to banish. “You should never have been put in a position where your whim or criticism was taken as a matter of life and death by the people around you. That was an injustice done to you, and it is not your fault.”
His Radiancy shuddered against him. “It was still my voice, my decisions. I cannot forget — I cannot ever forget — that I have that power, even if I never wanted it, even if I hate it. I can’t — what if I lose my temper and frighten Conju again, or upset him so he wants to leave, or worse? What if I complain about the guards, the interminable scrutiny, and dutiful Ludvic feels as though he’s failed me? You think I don’t know that it doesn’t matter that I should sooner set myself on fire than hurt any of you? I have spent years — decades — centuries — being so, so careful, trying to help you and our other friends understand that you have nothing to fear, and still I always feel a moment away from disaster.”
Cliopher ought to speak, to interrupt this awful and astonishing speech, but his throat was clogged and his eyes wet, and he did not want his Radiancy to know he was on the brink of tears. He wouldn’t understand, he would feel that he had failed, as if it had not been Cliopher who had failed him, to not understand this sooner — because he had said, hadn’t he? He had asked, back on Lesuia, when he had ever given them cause to think he would punish them for speaking their mind. Cliopher had been afraid, that day that Ludvic came to drag him to the private study, where his Radiancy had been dismantling it piece by piece. He had not understood, he had never understood, that there had been nothing to fear.
His Radiancy still was trembling, off and on, little shudders of fear from a man who was not afraid for himself, for his own secrets to be spilled unthinking, but for how his words could be twisted against him and used to hurt others.
Oh, but he was so good, he was so good. Cliopher’s whole heart ached for him. He was too good and too kind and too dutiful to forget those poor four souls, to be able to let the dead at Woodlark rest, to be able to forgive himself those millions dead in the Fall, no matter that they had never found the cause of that. Nobody so good should ever have had to be emperor. Emperors were meant to be ruthless creatures, to be able to bear the weight of those lives and that blood that even Cliopher’s Radiancy, the best and brightest of them all, had not been able to avoid entirely.
Cliopher could not quite speak yet, but he let go of his Radiancy with one arm so that he could cup the back of his Radiancy’s neck instead and press his forehead carefully to his Radiancy’s, the blanket leaving a thick soft muffling layer between their skin, the hot vitality of his Radiancy’s eyes. He said, almost evenly, “We will free you from it yet.”
His Radiancy exhaled a shuddering sigh. “I know you will,” he murmured. “My loyal Kip.”
“Yes,” Cliopher whispered. It was a bare breath of sound that he was not even sure his Radiancy could hear through the blanket, and yet it was as solemn a vow as he had ever sworn the other man.
“I don’t know how to do this,” his Radiancy confessed. “There are so many people around me, all the time, and they are all alive to my barest whim, how can I avoid —”
The practical question kicked Cliopher back into gear. He doubted he would be able to contribute much to the magical problem solving that seemed likely to be required for this, but the practical problems, at least, he could solve for his Radiancy. “We’ll need Conju’s help for your household, I think, and Ludvic’s for the guards,” he said, turning it through in his head. “They’ll be able to recommend who will be best at interpreting you in the spirit that you mean it rather than entirely literally.”
“Ludvic is good at knowing who I’ll like,” his Radiancy said, a little bit more of the tension in his frame easing. “I’m afraid to see Conju while I’m like this, though, I think I’m likely to upset him and I don’t want to.”
Cliopher wasn’t certain that he could disagree with that assessment. What he did know, though, was, “He will be upset if you don’t want to see him.”
“He tried to resign after I lost my temper at Lesiua.”
“And he didn’t, because he knows you value and care for him,” Cliopher said quietly.
There was more he had to say on this, but he was groping for the words still when there was a tentative knock on the door to the study.
“That will be Rhodin and the others, I suppose,” his Radiancy said with a sigh. “I’d really prefer to hide out in here for the foreseeable future, is that dreadfully cowardly of me?”
“Entirely understandable, I think,” Cliopher said, firmly squashing any internal protest as he let go of his Radiancy and stepped away, “but we will have to leave for meals eventually, and as we can’t hide here forever it’s surely better to get on top of things sooner rather than later.”
“Unfortunate,” his Radiancy said, emerging from the blanket. Cliopher was relieved to see that while his eyes were reddened, they were less wild than before. “But wise as ever, my lord Mdang. Lead the way.”