by R. Cooper
“You know I would,” Jacob answered, his voice and eyes full of Aetna’s fires. “But you may do whatever you please. Stretch, practice, do nothing. I’m not here to order you around.”
Kazimir frowned. Jacob did not seem to mind his frowns. “Don’t you need to watch me? I was told you would.”
Jacob gave Kazimir the same quirk of his lips he had given him before. “It has to look like you, not be you. He’s not concerned with that. That is more than evident. Does he think you want to see a version of yourself performing for him?”
“Stop.” Kazimir closed his mouth but the single word escaped first.
Jacob looked down at his tablet. “I am too honest,” he said at last. “I am sorry. I have been told it will get me into trouble someday, and it seems that day is here.”
“It does nothing to speak of it,” Kazimir managed a reply before he turned away. “I will dance, then, or go through the motions of it, whether or not you look.”
“There’s no music,” Jacob pointed out, head raised again.
“I do not need it.” Kazimir was arrogant, but not enough to earn a god’s ire. “I am blessed, or so they tell me.”
He stretched first, like an athlete at the Games, pretending his limbs did not tremble for his audience of one. If he looked over, he was not sure what he would see, if Jacob watched with hot eyes or did not watch, though he should. Kazimir was not sure which he would have preferred. One, at least, was familiar.
He wondered if desire would look different on the inventor, if his gaze would stay sharp and his mouth would stay soft.
A dangerous thought that made Kazimir dance for longer than he should have, until the shaking in his limbs was physical and could be explained.
When he looked over at last, flushed and breathing hard, Jacob was gone from the room.
THE NEXT VISIT, Kazimir did not ask before beginning to dance. He did not look over to Jacob or express interest in the various tablets and tools now strewn about the room.
The visit after that, Jacob brought in water and wine and a cup for Kazimir and left them at a table far from where he sat. Kazimir drank the water when he was done, and hesitated before leaving, but it was not the place of the King’s dancer and bedwarmer to remind the inventor to drink some water, too, or to rest, or to have less of the wine. Work was being completed. That was the important thing. Soon, the likeness would be built, and some of Kazimir’s time would be his again, to spend how he wished.
“WHY DO YOU not watch me?” Kazimir held still in the center of the workshop, then tugged a hand through his hair to displace the ornaments. His curls reached his jawline this way, a sight it pleased the King to be the only one to see.
Jacob could not know that, though he raised his head from his clay when Kazimir spoke.
Kazimir took his time gathering the hair clasps shaped like birds and approaching Jacob to set them on the table between them.
“I have,” Jacob admitted. “It is difficult not to. When you dance, for precious few moments, you are happy. And, of course, you are very desirable. But I said you could do whatever you like during our hours here. I doubt that includes suffering through lovestruck stares. And I have work to do.”
“You work too much,” Kazimir surprised himself by saying. Surprised Jacob, too, judging from his expression.
“I’ve been inspired,” Jacob muttered at last, looking down once again at the clay in his hands, what might have been the lower half of Kazimir’s face taking shape. “The sooner I am done, the sooner you are free.”
“You aren’t sleeping.” Kazimir heard himself go on. “You drink more than is wise.”
Jacob’s hands faltered. “I cannot sleep without the aid of the wine. I… do not like to think of what happens to you when you leave this place.”
Kazimir pulled in a breath. Several answers came to his lips though he did not voice all of them. “Would you dislike it so much if you had not felt Eros’s dart?”
Jacob carefully put down his clay. “I am not a great man, nor a hero—nor do I think many heroes were great men. I follow my art, and I study the world so I can show it in my work. I believe in beauty, the way the philosophers do, although I do not think that it follows that goodness shows through beauty. There are many people who suffer, and I dislike to think of it, but you I know, and I have been put in a position where I contribute to your suffering, and that pains me. I also love you. That brings a different pain.”
When he looked up, Kazimir quickly glanced down to the tray of water and wine that Jacob had once again brought for him. He poured some wine and drank it to wet his throat. He thought, if Jacob’s nights were to be restless and haunted, then he would rather have it be for a sweeter reason than Kazimir’s suffering.
“I do not mind if you watch me,” Kazimir told him, voice cool but his skin stinging with heat. He shook his head, making his hair appear as though he had just bedded someone gentle, and parted his lips while he waited for Jacob’s reply.
Jacob was very still, the clay forgotten. “You honor me, golden one, but if you don’t…”
“It is my choice.” Kazimir set down the cup and Jacob fell silent.
Jacob would understand what choice meant. Kazimir knew he would. It sent a shiver down his back and made him move slowly as he returned to his exercises, demonstrating his form and the strength of his bare thighs.
He danced until his legs were shaking. Jacob did not touch the clay again until Kazimir was done.
IT WAS DANGEROUS to play at having power. It made Kazimir reckless and slow to answer the King, made him forget to lower his head as he should.
He did not want to return to Jacob’s workshop the next day, but the King was impatient for his automaton, and Kazimir could not test him further. He was almost relieved to see Jacob at the forge with a slew of servants to assist him. It spared him from having to speak, to explain his exhaustion and his mood.
Kazimir went into the workshop on his own and Jacob did not object. Because Kazimir did not feel like dancing, he poked at the piles of unused ore, at the numbers and lines carved into numerous wax tablets, the bits of clay Jacob’s hands had shaped into tiny versions of Kazimir. Jacob depicted him smiling, his hair down, his movements free.
Kazimir ended up sitting carefully on the edge of Jacob’s cot in marvelous, wondering silence, and must have eventually fallen asleep. He woke to Jacob’s worried face above him and Jacob calling his name.
“I’d have let you sleep, but I thought it might not be wise. The King….” Jacob left the rest unsaid. He had shadows beneath his eyes. Kazimir could have pulled him down to sleep beside him and it wouldn’t have meant anything except that they were both so tired. He thought of it, while still in his startled daze, and again on his long walk back up the mountain—a fantasy of sharing a bed to rest.
Jacob would have allowed it. Jacob might even have welcomed it.
Kazimir thought he would have as well, and let the thought lull him to sleep when he finally returned to his chambers that night.
THE CONSTRUCTION of the likeness began in earnest after Jacob had his materials assembled and had once again ordered all the servants from his workshop in order to protect his secrets. He had a large cloth raised to hide the work from Kazimir, although Kazimir was not banned from his rooms. Jacob didn’t ask before raising the curtain, but Kazimir knew it had been done for him.
Kazimir did not want to see the work, felt something twist in his chest at the idea of Jacob’s hands shaping his body and reaching into it to tug at his insides. He asked about the mechanisms to make his arms move, the gears thrown about the benches and tables, but he did not ask to see his likeness, or even what the pieces were made of.
Jacob halted his work behind the curtain whenever Kazimir was with him. His fingers remained greased from his clockworks, as did his hair. But his gaze stayed sharp until the afternoon Kazimir hurried into the warm confines of the workshop to find Jacob still, his eyes dull and his lips stained purple with wine.<
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He focused immediately on Kazimir’s face, as Kazimir had known he would. “I’d heard he….”
The bruising on Kazimir’s cheek and neck were growing darker. Kazimir lifted his chin. “I will not feel shame.”
Jacob blinked like a donkey drunk after getting into a pile of fermented fruit. “Why should you?” He frowned. “You are a gift, and I wonder… I wonder if the other gods are watching him, after all. He is still favored, and by someone powerful, but the others must have heard our prayers. I had a plan, golden one, but I don’t think I can see you like this much longer without doing something rash.”
“Do you want me to leave?” Kazimir struggled to make the offer. It left him flushed and uncomfortable though revealing his bruises had not. “Will it bother you if I stay, like this?” He gestured to his face.
Jacob’s eyes widened. “Your presence is never a burden. You are a gift. Those were my words, and I meant them. I am the one who bothers you with my anger and my staring.” He lowered his voice, which had risen with the anger he’d spoken of. “He hurts you.”
The bruises would not heal faster for speaking of them, so Kazimir did not. “You do not value yourself much, inventor. You are also a gift, and not to be risked by upsetting the King.”
“I value myself more than some others do,” Jacob argued, pointedly.
Kazimir snorted. “Is your talent not great? Are you not a genius? I am a beautiful body, but you create life.”
“I approximate it,” Jacob corrected, with a hint of temper that was a mild breeze to the King’s tempest. Kazimir wanted to touch him and laugh in his face. He wanted to take one of those clay sculptures and make Jacob study it until Jacob was forced to admit what he was.
“You see the truth, prophet,” Kazimir declared boldly.
Jacob swallowed, then reached for more wine. “It is a gift best not used. Though now it can be used with a purpose. For something noble, perhaps. That is a blessed feeling, even with the fear.”
“What do you mean?” Kazimir did not follow. “What have you to fear?”
“Nothing to concern you yet. Madness, if anything.” Jacob shrugged and found his cup too interesting. “Will you dance today? Would you like to?” he corrected. “Today, you should only do things you want to do.”
Kazimir closed his eyes and breathed. Then he opened them again in order to cross to stand in front of Jacob’s table. He sat down, slowly, and exchanged Jacob’s cup for one filled with water.
“I am not from this country,” Kazimir told him, all whispers. Jacob raised his head. Kazimir took a sip of Jacob’s wine. “I am from the north and east. Would you like to hear about it?”
Jacob nodded, his gaze muddled from the wine but intent. “Please.”
“The winters were colder,” Kazimir began, and did not stop for some time, and then only because Jacob needed to sleep.
THE BRUISES did not have time to yellow before Kazimir was back in Jacob’s workshop again, pulling his newest gifts from the King from his hair and discarding the gold and pearl clasps on the table.
“Jacob,” he called firmly, before turning to ready himself for dancing.
Jacob came out from behind the curtain and approached the table almost cautiously. “You sound harsh. Was I rude when we last spoke and I was lost in my cups?” He paused at the sight of the clasps, then picked one up to study it.
“You were not.” Kazimir softened his voice now that Jacob was with him. “You were honest and you listened.” The quiver in Kazimir’s stomach was not new, but today, he acknowledged it and its cause. He glanced to the side, to Jacob’s bemused but attentive expression. “Will you make the automaton exactly like me?”
Confused or not, Jacob responded seriously. “So much so that the King might even prefer it.” He grimaced a moment later. “But it will never match your grace.”
“I believe you can.” Kazimir’s stomach was filled with butterflies. He could not return Jacob’s stare so he sent his gaze to Jacob’s shoulder. “You are like the god you admire, hidden away in this mountain.”
“Hidden away is where I belong, with my manners,” Jacob muttered, or perhaps tried to joke. But the air was too still. “I will give it my best,” he went on, grave once again. “No more wine. No more delays. The sooner he has it, the sooner…”
“You will leave?” Kazimir finished for him, seeking out Jacob’s warm eyes and pleased to find them steady on him.
“Foolish dove,” Jacob chided, but so lightly it did not sting. “Once I please him, I will never be allowed to leave. He will keep demanding more, won’t he? Or destroy me so that no one else might have what he has.” He didn’t wait for an answer. “I meant the sooner he has his doll without feelings, the sooner you might be free.”
Kazimir put a hand to his throat. His heart raced in his ears, almost drowning out the echo of that word. Free. He didn’t dare repeat it. “How will you--” The curtain loomed behind Jacob. Kazimir looked at Jacob with wide eyes. “I did not ask for that.”
“You could have.” Jacob had the nerve to smile. “That you didn’t…. You are a gift. I, fool that I am, thought the gods should intervene for you. Then I remembered that I have these skills, and I am here, and perhaps that is how they did so.”
That unbelievable idea was almost enough to return Kazimir to true devotion.
Kazimir’s world swayed and his limbs trembled. “I will dance now,” he said, although he could scarcely move, then raised his voice to ensure Jacob heard him. “I will dance now,” he repeated, too loudly this time, and smiled when Jacob frowned at him in confusion. That frown said there was no reason for Kazimir not to dance and that Kazimir did not need to announce it. Kazimir shook his head and dragged a hand through his hair and tried again so that Jacob would understand, because did not mind and want were different creatures. “I want you to watch me.”
“Ah,” Jacob said weakly, as if overcome, and sat on the nearest bench without looking to see if it was there. “I didn’t do it for that.”
“I know.” Kazimir pulled his chiton free, let Jacob see the places he had so carefully measured without touching, leaving behind almost-caresses and the impressions of fingertips that had put this fire in Kazimir’s body. “I have wanted to dance for you.”
“Ah,” Jacob said again. “Is this supposed to help me sleep? Because it will not.” He teased though his voice was rough, but spoke softly when Kazimir glanced over his shoulder to make sure he was watching. “Thank you.”
“You think this is a gift for you?” Kazimir asked, skin too warm for a mere blush, before beginning his dance.
FROM THEN ON, Jacob worked as though he had no need for rest or food, although Kazimir could see exhaustion in his slow movements and the unused state of his cot.
Kazimir found Jacob, more than once, asleep at a table, or slumped near the base of his work. He left him there, wanting Jacob to rest more than he wanted to speak with him.
If the King visited the workshop, he did so while Kazimir was not there. But his excitement increased by the day, as if the servants had gossiped about the creation behind the curtain. The King’s passions increased with it, making Kazimir almost grateful Jacob was too distracted to notice as much as he used to.
“I can bear it,” Kazimir reminded him, speaking quietly to the man half-lying across the table with his face buried in his arms. “I could tell you there is no point to this, that I can bear it, but you would not listen.”
“I’d do it anyway,” Jacob mumbled, turning his head and startling Kazimir.
“I thought you were asleep,” Kazimir informed him stiffly. “You should be sleeping.”
“Aphrodite’s favorite, are you worried for me?” Jacob wondered, words only a little slurred. “You shouldn’t. My fate is set. They are all set. But I know mine. So, you shouldn’t worry.” He was muttering sleepy nonsense that nonetheless stopped Kazimir’s heart. “However, if it bothers you now, I will rest.”
“What good is my freedom if it c
osts the world you?” Kazimir demanded, which earned him a snort. “If you… if you say you love me, then stop speaking of a fate you cannot know. Whatever you think you see is clouded with exhaustion and wine and your ideas that I am… I am Aphrodite’s favorite.” Kazimir could not be. He had been abandoned by every last god. At least, until Hephaestus’s favored had shown up here and Eros had pricked him with his golden dart. “You offered the King a soldier, a horse, a cat. You can offer more than your life!”
Jacob sat up, frowning. “You’re distressed.”
“Should I not be?” Kazimir cried, a sharp, lancing bolt in his chest when Jacob dared to smile at him.
“I would never distress you,” Jacob promised. “Not more than can be helped.”
“What?” Kazimir asked, but Jacob was already on his feet, storming to the forge and then back again.
“I will stop tonight, for you,” Jacob promised. He was flushed and his eyes were wild. “But starting tomorrow, I will be busy. Perhaps too busy to talk, although you are always welcome here. There is much to do. You’re so beautiful, and I have so much left in addition to this. Gold for your hair. Jewels for your eyes. Now this. But I will rest tonight. Then tomorrow…”
“Jacob.”
Jacob went still, then came forward. “This is your chance to be free.”
That word again. Kazimir was dizzy with it, with only the pain in his chest to ground him. “But once it is finished, I will have no reason to visit here.”
The fires behind Jacob’s eyes seemed to quiet. He reached up as if to touch Kazimir’s face but held back. Then he dropped his hand. “I would rather never see you again than see you every day knowing that you suffer every one of those days. That is the love your king plays at but does not feel. That you don’t love me the same does not matter.”
Kazimir frowned.
Jacob shook his head. “You care about me, dove. And I care about you. Let me do this, and trust me when I say I will try to do what you asked.”