I, Dacien -- Chapter 17 -- Interlude IV
#17 of I, Dacien
In which the Scyllan Council Makes a Unanimous Decision -- Seperately!
I, Dacien
A Story by Onyx Tao © 2012 Onyx Tao
Chapter Seventeen: interlude IV
General Andrei Tsaronokta Scylla nodded to the warrior on duty - Feoden Tsarnokta Scylla. It was far from an accident that Feoden was on honor guard at the Hall of Silence. Andrei entered, washed his hands in the basin, bowed to the statue in the center, and selected one of the small rooms that lined the hall. Most were empty, their doors ajar, the darkness within welcoming. Three were closed, and Andrei selected a room reasonably far from them.
It was a tiny cell, meant for nothing but meditation, to honor the memory and the clan. Andrei closed the door, picked up the flint and steel, and lit the candle. The door could be barred, of course, all the cells could be shut so, although few bothered. The steel bar slid home with scarcely a whisper; the chapel was kept in good order, even those parts of it that nobody was expected to use.
Andrei slipped into time with the ease of long practice, the moments thickening around him like cold honey, and then he turned, and sped them up. They moved quicker, and quicker, until he darted through them like a fish - and he was certain that he was alone in the room.
He'd expected that, but it made no difference. It was a precaution, nothing more. Even if he'd detected someone, he would have simply remained there, performing the meditation that he'd supposedly come to do. It wouldn't surprise anyone if he had; he came to the chambers at least once a month when the urge struck him and he could find a moment to set his duties aside. So there was nothing unusual, nothing strange, nothing suspicious at all when General Andrei went to the chapel.
Usually, he just spent a quiet hour in a nap.
This time, however, he pressed, in a particular order, eighteen stones in the mosaic decorating the walls. They weren't the only stones that moved; there were several more. Pressing any of them, however, or any of the eighteen in the wrong order, would cause eight bars to move three inches, preventing the door hidden in the wall from opening. Until someone on the far side reset them, this door would then be the wall it masqueraded as. It had been a long, long time since Andrei had made such a humiliating error.
The door opened into a tiny, narrow corridor that Andrei squeezed himself through. It led into a maze, a convoluted and complex tangle of paths and moving walls, and in one place, a door that was somehow linked to time; it could be seen only at sixty-four heartbeats to twenty-seven. The General had matched it many times, and it no longer troubled him as he slipped through it and into the larger room beyond.
"Andrei!" said Sandor. "We've been waiting." He nodded at Ladislas. "What's the emergency?"
"Our brothers have gone insane," Andrei said tightly. "That's the problem. This ... this ... ridiculous confrontation with Lycaili. We've lost. We need to decide what to do now that we've lost, before it gets worse."
"Lost?" said Sandor. "What do you mean ..."
"Just because of the exposure, you mean," Ladislas said. "Yes?"
"That, the attack on House Green, the assassination of Cresphontes, the attack on Sasha's pilgrimage, he's a Lord, to them, Lord Doze."
"Lord Doze!" snorted Sandor.
"They take him seriously, and apparently he's something of a mindhealer," Andrei said quietly. "Oh, and don't forget Teodor's son. The one we wiped. Do you think he will forgive us?"
"He might not, but a war ..." Sandor started, only to be cut off.
"Lycaili," Andrei said. "We're not dealing with Ungoliant, or Masura. We're dealing with Lycaili."
"Not," said Ladislas. "No. They will be generous and merciful if we surrender, but ... I agree. Even if we paid reparations at this point I doubt it would be sufficient."
"Why aren't we bringing this up with our brothers, then?" said Sandor.
"Because it's their idiocy that got us into this mess to begin with," Andrei said. "There's only one way that attack on House Green happened. One of the council - one of us - ordered Timas to extract the authorizations from Dusan. He then ordered Timas to pass on the authorizations to Oleg - so that he, himself, could claim truthfully that he did not divulge or authorize the expedition - and then ordered Timas to forget what he'd done." The pristine minotaur's nostrils flared. "It's the only way it could have happened."
"What happened to Oleg, then?" asked Sandor.
"He was disposed of, no doubt, in some quiet way, to break any chain of accountability," Andrei grimaced. "Odd, how everyone who disappears or gets converted turns out to be from our bloodlines, is it not?"
"I ..." and Sandor was quiet. "It is unfortunate, but I am not sure it goes beyond coincidence."
"How many of us need to be converted before you feel it goes beyond mere coincidence."
"Andrei," said Ladislas, "This is suspicion, not proof."
"It is madness," said Andrei. "And not ours. For some reason, our brothers started a private war with Lycaili." The pristine minotaur took a deep breath. "I wouldn't care, except that they have lost it."
"We haven't lost..." Sandor started.
"Wait," said Ladislas. "Andrei, why do you say we've lost?"
"We have lost," the minotaur said precisely, "because they are now looking for us. They will find us. They will find us. That idiot Januisz thinks his agents are so perfectly disguised."
"They are well disguised," Ladislas said. "I should know."
"Well disguised is not perfectly disguised," said Andrei. "The problem is the risk of one's being discovered. All of them know our location."
"They do not," Ladislas said. "They're taken in - and out - blindfolded. They have no idea where the portals are."
"And what happens when a mindbender rips everything they know out of them? They will find clues, hints, ideas ... the foods we eat, the fabrics we wear, even the monies we use."
"We don't use money," Sandor said.
Andrei shook his head. "No, you don't understand. They will find us. If Januisz cannot be convinced to pull his agents - his useless agents, now that we're suspending operations - they will find one of them. And I am convinced that if even one is taken, we might as well send Teodor an engraved invitation to Lockfast."
"I see," said Ladislas. "I think you are alarmist, and that is very much the worst possible case, but ... I do not rule it out."
"It seems unlikely," Sandor said softly. "Still ..."
"Unlikely?" said Andrei hopelessly. "Unlikely? Of course it is unlikely. It is unlikely that out of three commando raids, we lose two completely, and the third is routed."
"That wasn't my fault," Sandor said, offended.
"No," said Andrei. "It wasn't your fault. Or mine. But it tells me that Lycaili is not an easy target."
"They surprised me," said Sandor. "If that roan, Chelm, hadn't ..."
"What do you think happened to my commando teams?" asked Andrei. "They, too, had to be surprised, somehow. And I beg to point out we don't know what happened. How is it possible that four, and then twelve, commandos were all killed? Surprised? Obviously Lycaili has some weapon or technique or skill that we lack. And they have kept it so secret we still have no idea what it is."
"We don't know that," said Ladislas.
"Oh?" asked Andrei. "Don't we? We know the teams were killed, do we not?"
"Yes, but ..."
"Obviously, something killed them," said Andrei. "We know of nothing that could. Are you still following me?"
"Yes, but ... this is speculation," said Sandor.
"Is it," hissed Andrei. "Well, losing three teams is not speculation to me. It is all the proof I require. And I have great respect for the ingenuity of a Roan. A Roan as Patriarch is vastly insane, and will do great damage - but he is, I think, uniquely equipped to ferret us out. I am sending our blood to Trevor Farm. All of them, bit by bit."
"What? You can't..."
"I can," interrupted Andrei. "They will disappear. They can dye themselves, look other than pureblooded. And when - when - Lycaili finds us, perhaps our lines will survive."
"So?" said Sandor. "What of it? What of our brothers? We can't send their bloodstock to Trevor Farm."
"They have ruined us, you really care about ..." asked Andrei, incredulously.
"Yes," said Sandor, softly. "Do not mistake me. I really, most very really, care. We have lost everything, except for us, and the Ebon. Nothing else remains to Scylla. And now, you propose abandoning them?" Sandor shook his head. "No. Never. No matter what."
"Lad," Andrei appealed. "What do you think?"
"You are both right," Ladislas said after a moment of thought. "I agree; we need to retreat. But we cannot abandon our cousins, either. I have a proposal. You know Wolachya is demanding I breed hybrids, yes?"
"Yes," said Andrei.
"Suppose instead of hybrids, I breed purebloods. We settle the gravid out at Trevor, and they will never know. So when - and I have to admit, Sandor, that I agree with Andrei on this, when the end comes ... we will know our lines are safe. All of them, ours and Ebon."
"Interesting ..." said Sandor. "Andrei, can it be done? Are there enough humans?"
"There can be; I control the flow ... yes. All of those ferals. It will even be cheap. Yes, that is ... not merely acceptable, but an excellent idea. We must see how much bloodstock we can save," Andrei said. "Lad?"
"I ... it depends on how much time we have," Ladislas said. "It will take time, of course."
"I do not know how long we have," Andrei said softly. "Our safety has always been an illusion, and that illusion may well collapse at any time. The crisis is upon us. It might be years. It might be months. It might be days, or even hours. All we can do is hope for enough time, and use the time we have well."
"Are you so certain, then?" asked Sandor, looking disturbed.
"Yes," Andrei said simply. "I am."
* * *
"General Januisz Alexander Scylla, do you swear to divulge your mind and thoughts to your brothers?" asked Casimir.
"Freely," said Januisz. "With good will and my honor. General Wolachya Yamamoto Scylla, do you swear to divulge your mind and thoughts to your brothers?"
"Freely," Wolachya replied. "With good will, and my honor. General Casimir Arthur Scylla, do you swear to divulge your mind and thoughts to your brothers?"
"Freely," Casimir said. "With good will, and my honor."
"Good. Then what were you thinking, defending Lubor?" said Wolachya. "He's a clumsy idiot. The only reservation I would have about converting him is that he'd fail the conversion."
"I am forced to agree," said Januisz. "He is useless."
"And the both of you are right," said Casimir. "But did you see how our brothers went after him?"
"Yes," said Wolachya patiently. "Because he was an idiot. We did convert Dusan, who most definitely was not an idiot, and of excellent stock, a pureblooded pristine-pristine cross, Napolean-Khan."
"And we'll convert Lubor," Casimir said, calmly. "But we can use it as leverage."
"Point," said Januisz. "Between now and our next council, I ... and I think it should be me, can agree to vote with our brothers, we convert Lubor, and ... what? What do I ask for that we need such leverage?"
"We need to retreat," Casimir said. "I hate to admit it, but ... I no longer think we're secure here."
"We are perfectly secure," Januisz objected.
"We are as secure as we ever were, yes," said Casimir. "But ... nobody has ever been looking for us, before now."
"And they wouldn't be if those idiots hadn't raided Lycaili!" snapped Wolachya.
"They ..." Januisz paused. "How do you come to that conclusion?" he asked curiously.
"It was not us," Wolachya said. "True?"
"True," Januisz said.
"Then, who else could it be?" said Wolachya.
"But Timas ..." started Casimir
"Bah. The thing is trivial," said Wolachya. "Order Timas to extract the words, then order him to deliver the orders, and then order him to forget he'd done it."
"That..." started Januisz.
"Could work," finished Casimir. "Would work. But it seems ... a ridiculous effort."
"Does it?" said Wolachya heavily. "If it had succeeded, we never would have known. I don't know what prize they were playing for, but ... well, obviously they did not get it, and now we must deal with the resultant," and the ebon minotaur frowned, "disaster."
"It's not so bad," Januisz said.
"How, not so bad?" asked Casimir. "For the first time in an eon, we are threatened with discovery. We are made public knowledge. And a powerful clan..."
"Minor clan," snapped Januisz. "Minor."
"Minor, yes," said Casimir, "but they control the best accesses to human lands. And they are tightly allied with Ouroborous, and loosely with Venrir, who - in effect - guard their lands."
"Ouroborous is hardly a major power, either. And Venrir ... well," said Januisz. "I hardly think Venrir will come to their aid."
"When Lycaili and Ouroborous move as one, they count as a major power," Wolachya said. "It's why we spent so much effort trying to pry them apart. And even if Venrir doesn't help Lycaili, there is no chance of aggression between them, or that Venrir would permit forces to threaten them through Venrir."
"And I hardly see how they threaten Lockfast," Januisz said dismissively.
"Do you not? Or do you just not want to see it?" asked Wolachya.
"What?"
"He's right," said Casimir. "If Lycaili takes even one of our agents alive, they'll find us."
"That's absurd. Our agents don't know ... they have no idea where we are," said Januisz. "We give them conflicting stories, all wrong. They won't..."
"And you're willing to risk the existence of Scylla on that? On the inability of this ... Teodor ... to somehow do what we consider impossible? Such as, oh, defeating three commando raids?" said Wolachya. "Look at what happened to Lubor. A simple mistake, nothing more, but a clever bull, a bull who was not even present, was able to determine what had happened. Oh, certainly, Dellios got details wrong - but he deduced Lubor's presence. We cannot risk that happening to us in Lycaili."
"Cannot?"
"Cannot," said Wolachya with finality. "Withdraw your agents from Lycaili."
"And blind ourselves? My agents are hardly as ... as ... inept as Lubor."
Casimir shook his head. "They face not accidental discovery, but an ingenious group of minotaur who must know they are present, and are determined to find them. Withdraw them, Jan. Wolachya is correct."
Januisz shook his head. "If you both so hold ..."
Casimir and Wolachya looked at each other, and nodded.
"... then so be it, I yield. But I don't think there's a real danger."
"Oh, there's a danger, all right," said Casimir. "Consider. Suppose Jan sends the recall orders immediately. It's what, ten, fifteen days to get there, and another month or so before the orders are received. The lead time is tremendous."
"Yes," said Januisz. "That's what keeps us secure."
"Well," said Casimir. "Suppose it is already too late. Suppose they take an agent, alive, in the next ... forty days or so. What will we do? We must have plans."
Wolachya grimaced. "We must ... yes. We must assume the worst. Lycaili locates us."
"Impossible," said Januisz. "Even if they took an agent alive. It's impossible."
"I would have thought it impossible for a mere Roan to be made Patriarch," said Wolachya.
Casimir nodded, his distaste evident. "Yes. It should have been."
"They had several, numerous, better candidates!" said Januisz angrily. "Blues. That blue we're holding, now, even. He was too young when Cresphontes was elected, but now, he's got the right experience, the right preparation - and they had Hector. An experienced, qualified, accomplished Blue. Hector was the perfect choice!"
"Apparently not," said Casimir. "And instead of complaining about what-should-be, let us deal with what we hope will never come to pass. We must prepare to evacuate Lockfast."
"No," said Wolachya heavily. "We can't. Where would we evacuate to?"
"Tyrm?" asked Casimir.
"We can't move eight thousand humans and minotaur to Tyrm."
"No, but we can move our bloodstock," said Casimir. "Not all. Enough to keep the lines. As a precaution."
"What about the Pristine lines?"
"Oh," said Casimir with a snort. "We have those, already, four pureblooded of each Pristine line. Six are commandos, the remaining thirty-two are serving as impure. But they're not, I assure you."
"You stole our brother's lines?" Januisz sounded horrified. "They're pureblood? And you have them in the place of menials?"
Casimir looked guilty for a moment. "It was ... wrong, I know, but ... I thought, just in case, if ..."
"No, it was a good idea, and Cas was right to do it," said Wolachya firmly. "Our duty is to our blood, and their duty is as well. Their position, however beneath them, preserves their bloodline - and that justifies their sacrifice.You were foresighted, Cas, foresighted, and now we're prepared against the day. Today. How many are at Tyrm already?"
"A little less that two-thirds," said Cas. "Obviously I will move the rest."
"Secretly," hissed Januisz. "If our brothers find out what we've done ..."
"Yes, yes, secretly, very quietly, I promise," said Casimir impatiently. "I'm not an idiot. I just play one on the Council."
"And what do we tell our brothers?" asked Januisz.
"That you've changed your mind, no more," said Wolachya.
"I haven't."
"You asked what we should tell them," said Wolachya. "We - Cas and I - do not share your confidence in our invisibility."
"And if Timas ..."
"Obviously you won't blurt it out while Timas is reporting on our veracity," said Casimir.
"No, but ..."
"Then we, Wolachya and I, will move the conversation along. Phrase it more tactfully. Jan, there are a thousand ways to step around Timas. As long as we're being truthful, and that just isn't the same thing as being honest."
"But ..." said Januisz. "They are our brothers."
"And we are saving what's important to them," Casimir said softly. "Their blood. Even if they never know, even if they never have a chance to find out that we've saved it, we've still saved it. Isn't that what they would want?"
"I ... I cannot argue," sighed Januisz. "It is only truth. Very well. Let it be so."