You can do this, Miles, had been Ser Galen's last words to him before he'd gone silent. He'd looked so excited. You didn't often see Ser Galen looking happy, and even when he was happy it was often very hard to tell. He didn't smile, really. He went wider around the eyes, and his face got more energetic. Focused, really. And during those last words, he'd looked focused, energetic. The sort of face the clone saw on good days. Hopefully, if all of this worked, he would make a long series of good days for Ser Galen.
Or maybe he'd fail so spectacularly that the whole thing came crashing down and Galen burned with it. Hah.
The clone learned how to ride. Of course he did. Part of the training. The old playmate gets access, too, unusual access. There were some adventures that happened between these two, the Emperor and Lord Vorkosigan. Nothing spoken of, but there were oblique references. A level of trust. Maybe. Something of the sort. And so when the clone pushes for a ride out in the country, get away from the court, just spend some time talking perhaps about something that might interest the Emperor (and the Emperor seems to think that it's perhaps something involving a love life which twists in the clone's guts in a way he can't identify), there is assent. Arrangements are made. Guards are sent out with them, of course, but guards will be taken care of.
Ten miles outside the city, a rendezvous will happen. The clone leads them in that direction. And he looks over at the Emperor and says, with just the right blend of respect and familiarity, "It's good to come back to this. I've started missing it when I'm away."
He'd thrown up his breakfast this morning in terror. He's already hungry again.
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You can do this, Miles, had been Ser Galen's last words to him before he'd gone silent. He'd looked so excited. You didn't often see Ser Galen looking happy, and even when he was happy it was often very hard to tell. He didn't smile, really. He went wider around the eyes, and his face got more energetic. Focused, really. And during those last words, he'd looked focused, energetic. The sort of face the clone saw on good days. Hopefully, if all of this worked, he would make a long series of good days for Ser Galen.
Or maybe he'd fail so spectacularly that the whole thing came crashing down and Galen burned with it. Hah.
The clone learned how to ride. Of course he did. Part of the training. The old playmate gets access, too, unusual access. There were some adventures that happened between these two, the Emperor and Lord Vorkosigan. Nothing spoken of, but there were oblique references. A level of trust. Maybe. Something of the sort. And so when the clone pushes for a ride out in the country, get away from the court, just spend some time talking perhaps about something that might interest the Emperor (and the Emperor seems to think that it's perhaps something involving a love life which twists in the clone's guts in a way he can't identify), there is assent. Arrangements are made. Guards are sent out with them, of course, but guards will be taken care of.
Ten miles outside the city, a rendezvous will happen. The clone leads them in that direction. And he looks over at the Emperor and says, with just the right blend of respect and familiarity, "It's good to come back to this. I've started missing it when I'm away."
He'd thrown up his breakfast this morning in terror. He's already hungry again.