Political Lessons
6 July 2006

Part two of Gregor and Laisa's tour of the Imperial Gardens (part one is here.)  An innocent question leads Gregor to give Laisa a lesson in Barrayaran politics, and also leads him to start thinking down a new path. Set during Memory.

As Gregor led the mare carrying Laisa through the gardens, Laisa asked, "So is this horse one of yours?"

"No, I borrowed her."

"Just for me?"  Laisa seemed astonished.

"Of course.  I wanted your first horseback ride to be enjoyable."  Gregor was thinking about his possible future with Laisa, and feeling hopeful, although nervous.  "I got this mare from three Districts away."

Laisa patted the mare's neck and smiled, clearly approving of Gregor's motivations.  "How did you convince her owners to loan her out?"

"Well... I asked.  And there's an odd little bit of Barrayaran politics at work here; if I, as the Emperor, ask for something from one of my subjects ... he or she is generally obligated to give it to me.  So if I want a horse -- like this one -- I'll usually get it."

"Does that mean you actually own all the horses and everything else?"

"I hold my hands over the Counts, who hold their hands over their subjects."  As Gregor said this, he waved his free hand, palm down, in a small circle and then a larger one.  Then he allowed a note of dubiousness in his voice.  "By certain legal theories, that means I own everything."  

"You sound like you don't agree with those theories."

Ah, smart woman.  "In general, no, I don't.  And I find it better to not demand from my subjects things that I don't think are really mine.  Barrayar is in a prolonged period of peace, these days, but unreasonable demands from the Imperium could put an end to that."  

"That sounds... rather grim."

"It is grim.  You'd only have to look three generations back, to my great-uncle Yuri's reign, to see as much grimness as one world can stand.  He asked for ... too much.  And not for the good of the Imperium.  My other great-uncle -- my half-great uncle Xav, who by the way is Miles' great-grandfather -- also asked for too much, but in the service of deposing Yuri.  We Barrayarans will give our all, and more, if we're frightened enough of what might happen if we don't."

"That's very different than Komarr.  We know who owns what, there.  It's all recorded, and there's no ambiguity."

"Um ... not exactly.  As the head of the Barrayaran Empire, and applying an even more twisted version of those legal theories I mentioned, I supposedly own Komarr and all its assets, too.  I choose to ignore those theories, and have done what I can to prevent anyone from taking advantage of this purported ownership.  It's better for everyone if Barrayar considers Komarr to be occupied, not owned, territory.  I do claim ownership of Sergyar, however, but I'd like to imagine that's only temporary, until the settlers don't need the Imperium's purse anymore."

"Ah.  You might want to read more about the settlement of Komarr.  We have this sort of enforced collectivism, because of the domes, but arguments over the boundary between collectivism and individual ownership figure prominently in Komarran political history."

Gregor nodded to Laisa, a silent thank-you for her -- as usual -- excellent advice.  But he hadn't arranged this private time to talk about politics.  He stopped the mare in one of his favorite spots, under a large tree with ferny leaves and vivid bluish lavendar flowers.  Laisa looked up into the branches and smiled with pleasure.  "This is lovely."

"The tree's a jacaranda, imported from Old Earth by my grandfather Ezar.  They usually don't survive cold weather, but this one is genetically engineered to be hardy enough even for Barrayar.  It's always been one of my favorites."

Laisa gifted him with another smile, which he returned.  "So, before we got sidetracked into a lesson on Barrayaran politics, we were talking about the horse.  I just want to know, now that you've made it clear that she's not yours, if you'll give her back," she said.

"I will.  The owner's children are probably in hysterics over their 'lost pony'."

"Even though she went to the Emperor?"

"I imagine so.  The older children, having already been schooled in Barrayaran patriotism, will try to pretend it's a great honor to have their horse selected by me, but the little ones ... they don't know who I am; they only know that someone took her.  So it's only fair to give her back -- for the good of the Imperium, of course."  He said this with some humor, momentarily imagining a horde of small children kicking him in the shins for being greedy.

"I commend you for your empathy, but it's still too bad.  I like her."

"I could order her owner to give her to me..." Gregor stopped himself.  "No.  But if I ever need her back -- for my bride to ride at our wedding, say -- I could borrow her again."  The words wedding and bride were rusty on his tongue.  The few times he'd spoken them without caution to an unattached woman, the aftermath had been an unpleasant disentanglement, requiring Lady Alys to employ her most careful Vorish negotiation skills.    

With Laisa, it was different; she, as an offworlder, had not been taught from birth that the Emperor's every word carried the weight of the law, and she would not think to conflate a mention of marriage into a marriage proposal.  And that in itself made her infinitely more attractive to him than any lovely -- and suitable, he reminded himself -- young woman.  But if his great-uncle Xav had married a Betan...

"I have to admit that I'm a bit surprised that you aren't married yet," Laisa said. " I'd always thought Barrayarans married young, but here you are, so smart and... handsome."  Laisa's white skin made a wonderful background for her flush of embarrassment.  Gregor looked away for a moment when he realized that his thoughts -- and his eyes -- had followed the flush as it spread across her chest and down her shirt.  Laisa's unexpected arrival in his life was un-neutering him, in more and less obvious ways, but some of them might be considered rude, and best not revealed.  Yet.

After a moment of recomposing himself -- a longer moment than he would have thought he'd needed -- Gregor realized that her statement about his marital status was actually a query.  And answering it , thanks to the politics involved, would flatten his remaining desire.  But I don't want it to go away... Hm, maybe I'm not so recomposed after all... Better do something about that... This inner struggle continued until he finally spoke.  "The issue of my marriage and fathering an heir has captivated Barrayar for fifteen years now.  For some, it's just part of our ongoing romance with the idea of Empire, not to mention that it's been forty years since the last Imperial wedding.  For others -- such as Miles Vorkosigan and his father -- my producing an heir would take the weight of being my potential successors off their shoulders."

"Lord Vorkosigan might be your successor?"

"Um, yes, by certain legal theories, he's second in line, after his father.  I am forced to take those theories seriously, simply because I love him as a brother, and would not want to inflict all this" -- Gregor made a sort of all-encompassing gesture -- "on him."

Somewhere along the way -- he didn't remember when -- Gregor had put one of his hands over Laisa's.  It was comforting now, as he talked, because there was so much he had to leave unsaid until he felt more sure about her.  There were two futures available for him -- one alone, but protecting his hypothetical wife and fantasized children from the ravages of the Imperium, just as he protected Miles, and one complete with real wife and children, and no protection except whatever he could muster in real life.  And for some reason, for the first time, he preferred the latter... For the first time, it seemed possible.

It struck him suddenly.  She had labeled him smart and handsome but had not listed being the Emperor as one of his attractions.  "You know, most of the women I've been introduced to would marry me because they want to be the Empress.  I want a woman who would be the Empress because she wants to marry me."  These words were a tiny gift of hope and vulnerability to Laisa.  So how will she accept this?

Laisa now put her other hand over his -- obviously unaware of how close she was to the treasonous action, by Barrayaran custom, of forcing the Emperor's hands between hers -- and looked him in the eye, and told him, in a serious voice, "I think you deserve to get married, to have someone just for you."  And then she leaned in close and kissed him.

"Just for you," she had said.  Take a wife just for you, not because the Imperium will need a pound of your flesh in the form of the next Emperor someday.  With stunning clarity, Gregor knew who he wanted that wife to be.  He moved in closer and wrapped his other arm around Laisa's waist, careful not to unbalance her on the little mare's back.  He kissed her in return, and found himself taking her in as if his life depended on it.  Unbidden, his ghost children came into his mind, imploring him to allow them to be born.  It felt odd to say, in his mind, to beings who didn't exist yet, Would you like this woman to be your mother?  Soon everything faded except his lips upon hers, with the dappled sunlight filtering down and the sweet scents of the garden surrounding them.