I, Dacien

A Story by Onyx Tao

© 2013 Onyx Tao

I, Dacien by Onyx Tao is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://onyx-tao.sofurry.com.

Chapter Twenty-Three: Confusion

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In the northwestern upper quadrant of Ungoliant Maze, the small black minotaur Riomedes Lycaili paused for just a moment in his work of unloading a large cart. The twelfth box, labeled as triple-cream Addrissati cheese, had a few other markings on the label and box, grease-pencil markings from storage, shipping, and the long journey from Lycaili to Ungoliant. Most of those markings were meaningless.

Some of them weren't, even if Riomedes couldn't tell them apart. He didn't have to; a spell laid deep in his mind by Sasha Lord Doze Lycaili took care of recognizing the signs and markings and Riomedes simply knew this box contained something ... special. Cheese for his shop, of course, which carried fine Lycaili and Venrir cheeses that were otherwise scarce in Ungoliant, but there was more to this box, on this day, in this cart, even if Riomedes couldn't consciously distinguish the subtleties that marked this box as special. And therefore secret. He gave no further hint that this box was unlike the previous eleven, or the next eighteen; they were various boxes of cheese, liqueurs, dried fruit, and even some exotic -- at least exotic in Ungoliant -- spices. He kept an eye on box twelve, though, and when his two humans came out to help him move the now-offloaded boxes into the back of his shop, he was careful to be certain that he opened that one.

He opened it carefully, and began taking out the Addrisatti, large round disks of cheese thickly coated in a pale orange wax, stamped with the Addrissatti crest and bearing the cheese-maker's familiar signature: Voltho. And after a few minutes of unloading the cheeses, Riomedes knew that there was a letter hidden in the box itself, concerning a mission ... somewhere ...

This cheese.

Riomedes pulled it out, and then told his slaves to go put the new dried apricots, cherries, and pears out front. A moment later, he had pried a board apart, and found the letter -- a meaningless concoction of Greek, Latin, and other characters, without spaces, scrawled almost illegibly. He stared at it.

Sasha's spell extracted the meaning a moment later.

We seek three Lycaili: Bryant (blue), Dacien (roan marque blanc), and Kant (white). The amulet within is attuned to all three of them; its range is perhaps seven-eighths of a mile, more or less, depending. Dacien's recovery preferred, but he cannot be left in non-Lycaili hands. Monitor Ungoliant Maze for them. This assignment critical and all-costs success.

If he were to wear an enchanted amulet ... that upped the risk of his being uncovered as a Lycaili agent. As an official Lycaili agent; Rio knew that he was already under a certain amount of suspicion simply because he was Lycaili.

But he would take that risk. That's what critical and all-costs success meant. This was more important than his assignment here; more important than his role as an informant. Which ... he hoped it wouldn't be. For all that he was looked down here as Lycaili and low-blooded, he liked Ungoliant, and he enjoyed running his shop. Lord Doze had assisted him, at first, in making contacts among the smallholders and freeshops of Lycaili -- most of them held by lowbloods -- and now he had a huge network of contacts to import all sorts of rare and unique foods. Lycaili lowland and highland cheeses. Voltho didn't sell his cheese to just anyone, and he only marked the best of it as Adrasatti. Maybe there were five hundreds of wheels a year, at most, and Rio had nearly a tenth of them.

Venrir lavender honey, sage honey, mint honey ... nobody else in Ungoliant sold that. Ouroubouros seaplum preserves. Who else had it? Nobody. His little shop had a steady stream of stewards and even humans, coming in with lists and requests from everywhere and while Riomedes filled their orders, they talked.

Gossiped.

About how the great lords and houses and guildmasters were doing, what they were doing, the petty rivalries and alliances, the relative success of who could afford his expensive luxuries, and who put off purchases, even who was current on his charges, and who was a little late -- or a lot late -- and all of these things, to a talented observer like Riomedes Lycaili, told him a great deal about Ungoliant -- and every now and then, he would compose a letter with his observations, and his conclusions, and his notes in the strange code that Sasha had put into his mind, and send it off.

But this ...

Riomedes put the amulet on, and over the next week, made a point of walking through the city. There was nothing odd about that; many bulls jogged or ran for exercise, and they were always taking new paths through the twisted streets -- that was the point, after all, to familiarize themselves with the intricacies of the maze. Odd, perhaps, for a Lycaili to go to the pain of learning the Ungoliant Maze, but he did live here, after all, and it's not as if the layout were a closely guarded secret. Well, much of a secret. More a convenience to defenders, in case of an attack.

Although no clan had attacked another's maze since ... well, since the Truces, really. That didn't happen anymore. Instead, they traded. Sold things to one another. Sent ambassadors. Established Guilds. Argued over 'bandits' and small raids and little things and somehow kept the little things little.

Oh, and spied on each other, like Riomedes was spying on Ungoliant now. Although Rio's task was really simply to keep a close eye on Ungoliant events -- Rio didn't do anything but gather information that was readily available. Listening, more than spying. Watching what happened in public. Mostly. Rio had -- at Lord Doze's command -- done one or two things that arguably went beyond that, into the actual realm of unearthing secret information, but that wasn't really his job, and certainly not his focus. All Rio needed to do was listen, Sasha had told him, and his customers and acquaintances and Guild connections would bring him all the information he would need.

Plus, Sasha had added, perhaps one or two little errands on the side.

Twice, only twice, had Sasha actually ordered such things. And here was the third ...

Even so, it shocked Riomedes when the amulet led him to a minotaur who could only be Kant a mere four days later.

* * *

Xavien? Are you awake? Xe?

Xavien let out a sigh as Ruus' voice woke him, and he pulled the sleeping form of Dog a little closer to him. Without waking, the human curved himself in to better fit his Master, and Xavien stroked his head gently.

"I am awake," Xavien said, biting back the rest of the sentence.

Oh, excellent. I know it's late in Maze.

"Yes," agreed the ebon minotaur. "What may I do for you at this late or early hour?"

Something's come up.

"Presumably so, yes," agreed Xavien.

I can't decide whether I should wake Te or not.

Xavien took a breath, and then let all the comments he could have made go unspoken, instead sitting up, and pulling the still-sleeping Dog up into his lap. The human made happy sleepy sounds as Xavien waited, patiently stroking the human's back.

"Ruus?" he finally said.

What do you think?

"About what?"

Waking Teodor, of course. It's ... I just don't know.

"Ruus ... what has happened?" Xavien tried, as hard as he could, to keep any bite of reproach from his words and make the question a simple request for information instead of the furious accusation that boiled through him.

Don't you ... no, you wouldn't ask if you didn't. I beg your forgiveness.

"I am sure I will have completely forgiven you by the time you finish telling me what has happened," Xavien prompted.

Ah ... I'm not sure I should tell you before I tell Teodor.

"Ruus, it is the middle of the night, and I would like to go back to sleep."

I thought you were up?

"No," Xavien said. "I was not."

Oh. I beg your forgiveness, Xavien. I didn't want to disturb you. I thought you would be up.

"I am up now," Xavien said, "so why don't you tell me what has you ... flustered?"

A human brigade has crossed Mog Ford.

Xavien groaned. "Again?"

With a parley flag. They have no bows, nor mage-weapons, just swords and spears, no more than four tens of them.

"Isn't this properly General ..." Xavien paused to think who was currently stationed at Mog Ford. "Randolph's responsibility?"

General Randolph is in Maze. His second is at Mog Ford.

"His ..." Xavien's memory came up blank. "Who is that?"

Warlord Teovance.

"Then isn't it Teovance's decision?"

Teovance called me to inform me.

"Teovance," said Xavien thoughtfully. "Well. He is Te's cousin. What did you tell him?"

Tell ... I haven't told him anything.

"Then I suspect he's already decided what to do, and is carrying out his decision now," Xavien said. "Rendering this conversation moot. How long ago was this?"

About an hour?

"Then I suggest you recontact Teovance, and ask him if he requires the Patriarch's guidance. If he does, wake Teodor. If he doesn't, let the poor bull sleep, and make sure that Zachiah is briefed to let Te know what's happened in the morning," Xavien said.

Eyes blinked open sleepily as Dog looked up at his Master, and then Dog stiffened in Xavien's grasp. "Hush," soothed Xavien. "Go back to sleep."

Sleep? I think I should check in on Teo, Ruus said in a puzzled voice. The situation might change.

"Not you Ruus, I was talking to Dog," Xavien said, again biting back a sharper response.

What if Teo decides to open a parley? What if Te decides to open one?

"Then our Master has decided the proper course of action," Xavien said. "Patriarch Teodor has every right to make such a decision. I suspect, however, that he will consult us -- myself, his senior generals, and even you before he makes a decision."

You cannot support such a thing!

"I do not and will not," said Xavien. "You know that."

Then how can you support this?

"I just said I did not and would not support such a decision. But if our Master decides otherwise, then it is my duty -- and yours -- to carry out his policy. Even and especially if it differs from ours. He is the Patriarch. You were the one wildly in favor of his elevation." Xavien gritted his teeth as the last sentence slipped out before he could stop it.

That was before he lost his transformed human. I am rethinking my position.

"That is your privilege," Xavien said. "If you find you cannot in conscience support Lord Teodor, then you may offer your resignation as Speaker. Until then, it is your duty to support his policy to the best of your ability. And if you object to his decisions, then it is your duty to ensure he knows.

I would have expected you to be more understanding. You were hardly his advocate during the confirmation.

"I recommended we not confirm him," said Xavien, "even if I did not use my Council vote against him. And he has been as radical -- and perhaps more -- than I feared. And yet, despite my fears, there have been no disasters. Some inconveniences, some rough spots, some ... difficult moments, I admit, but we seem to be surviving. It was ... difficult adjusting to Cresphontes, after Tarsus, too."

Not like this.

"No, not like this," said Xavien. "Cresphontes was not Tarsus, and Teodor is neither of them. Teodor is harder-working than either of them were, and ... more trusting, I think. Less controlling. It is interesting to watch the adjustments."

Interesting?

"Ruus, if this conversation is meant to undermine Lord Teodor ..."

Of course not!

"I am pleased to hear it," Xavien said dryly. "And yet ... it could be taken that way, very easily. I trust you will be ... more cautious in your choice of ... phrasing? Going forward? I would not want any of the juniors misinterpreting you."

No, this is just between us, you and I. I thought, perhaps, we could discuss our objections beforehand. That is all.

"Perhaps in the morning," said Xavien.

Very well.

Xavien stroked Dog until the human finally relaxed back into sleep, and then the ebon minotaur laid himself carefully down, so as not to disturb him again. Sleep did not come easily, though, as he replayed the conversation with Lord Chimes.

Nor did Xavien Lord Green Lycaili rush through his breakfast the next morning, instead taking a more leisurely repast as his increasingly restive new apprentice chafed under the delay -- silently. Apparently his four months with Ianthos had taught Chelm some patience. Xavien buttered a second roll, applied a generous dollop of pear conserve -- a gift from Chelm's grandfather when Chelm arrived -- and silently noted that Chelm would need a great deal more instruction in that quality. Not that Xavien felt he was the best choice to instruct anyone in patience, but ... still. The roan had a great deal of promise as a healing mage and Xavien hoped to pass on as much of his own experience as he could.

* * *

Teodor sighed as he led his friend into his study, and took a seat by the fireplace. "Sasha. We are in private, as you asked." He motioned for Sasha to take another chair, and the smaller minotaur did so.

"My Lord," the brown minotaur said. "I was delayed in Venrir."

"I know," Teodor said, reaching for a decanter and pouring himself a small glass of silvery liqueur. "Dagr told me." He held the crystal bottle out to Sasha in a silent offer, but the brown declined with a soft shake of his head.

"Did he?" Sasha asked. "He might have mentioned it ..."

"It was after you left," Teodor said, taking a sip. "You didn't say why you left ... just that you would be back in a week or two." He took a breath. "Two months, though seems like a long time."

"We found ..." Sasha started, and then tried again. "My Lord, we found ... what remains of Kant."

"What remains ..." echoed Teodor and the gray minotaur didn't so much relax as collapse into his chair. "It is a given, I think, that I will not like this. Simply tell me."

Sasha nodded. "Kant is gone, My Lord. His mind was wiped completely, and a ... fabrication emplaced. He believes himself to be Treyvard, sold into Ungoliant. I traced the sale back through Leviathan to a dealer in Mosura, but ... the trail ended there." Sasha paused. "My Lord, we can free him, but ..."

"But?"

"He is ... has been, adjusted, My Lord," Sasha said slowly. "And he is ... happy, in his current life. To free him would disrupt the healing his psyche has had. I was ... I did not know if I should do it. It could -- no, it will hurt him, very much, to discover all that he is has been fabricated. And ... I thought perhaps that watching him might lead us back to our foes. That they might ... check up on him."

"I doubt it," said Teodor after a pause. "The Mosuran -- he'd been adjusted too, hadn't he?"

"Yes," said Sasha.

"No. The trail ends there. They had no use for him and so discarded him."

"Maybe," said Sasha, "but ..."

"And in any case," Teodor continued, "I will not set out our wounded as bait."

Sasha flinched at the phrasing. "No, My Lord. Of course not."

"We owe Kant, we owe his family, and I have faith in your skills to ease him through the transition back to freedom. Fetch him back from Ungoliant."

"My Lord ..."

"Yes?"

"I do not think that is a good idea. Kant's family ... will not understand."

"Then I will explain it to them."

"They ..." Sasha paused, and Teodor could feel his thinking how to phrase it. "They did not approve of Kant's career."

Teodor took a deep breath. "I understand you are trying to tell me something, but I do not understand what you are trying to tell me. I do not know Kant's family, and I have no idea why they would disapprove of a warrior, especially one who achieved a position in your Guard."

"They did not think warrior was a suitable endeavor for their family. Kant should have stayed at home, on the family's acreage, and taken up tillage," Sasha said. "My Lord, several of the white, black, and even brown in my Guard are in similar positions with their families. I am not saying that we are Ungoliant, but some of that attitude ... persists. Kant ... reached too high, and his failure -- his inevitable failure -- simply provides his family proof of his hubris. His family ... will not understand."

"That ... no, I did not realize that. He was estranged, then?"

"He was."

"Over his own success?" asked Teodor, unhappily.

"Yes, My Lord."

"I am no judge of such things. Was Kant less a warrior?"

"His tempus potential was limited, but Milos found nothing lacking in his effort or his mastery of that potential. And his skills at arms also pleased Milos. But he would never have defeated an ebon in our various Guards."

"Because they are larger and faster, and had training as good."

"Or better, My Lord."

"Osaze has no whites in my Guard. Nor blacks. Nor browns. Ebon, pristine, blue ... not even a roan, now that I think of it, and I have nearly a hundred now, given all the tasks I have for them ..." Teodor nodded. "Did you bring this to Cresphonte's attention?"

"Yes, My Lord, I did."

"And ... what did he do?"

"He considered it, My Lord."

"Did he," said Teodor.

"Was that a rhetorical question, My Lord?"

Teodor tilted his head. "It was, but ... do you know the answer, My Lord Doze?"

"I do, My Lord."

"Then answer it."

"I believe he did not," Sasha said.

"You believe you brought this problem to his attention, and he did not consider it a problem, nor did he make any attempt to solve it?"

Sasha nodded. "Some combination of all of those, My Lord. I could not not tell you which."

"And is that why you have been reticent to bring it to me?"

"Partly, My Lord. Also, I was waiting for the right moment."

"I see," said Teodor. "And compounding our dilemma with Kant is the right moment?"

"It ... I do not know, My Lord, if it be the right moment, but our path leads firmly to that issue. And if I was wrong to put this discussion off earlier, would I not be even more wrong to continue to hold it abey?"

Teodor nodded. "That is ... exceedingly true. Are there any other long-standing problems to which I am oblivious, Sasha?"

"No, My Lord. Although ... the problem is pernicious, and you may not understand the fullness of it."

"Explain the fullness of it."

"My Lord, we, and by we, I mean all of those Lycaili who are smallblooded, as the phrase goes politely, or lowblooded, as the phrase is in practice -- we who are white, black, or brown -- are not held to the same standards as the highbloods. Thus, although I am technically a warrior, I know I fell short of the expectations. I was told that I would be passed, but that I was not prepared for warlord training."

"And ... was this so? Or were you just told that?"

"I was ... it was so, Master. I could wish otherwise, but ... it was so."

"Sasha, I love you dearly, but ... why would you compromise your honor so?" The Patriarch paused. "Or ... no, I beg your forgiveness. I do not understand this, and I do not wish to impugn your honor, however my words may sound. I do not understand what would drive -- no, cause, I beg your forgiveness while I grope for the right words, what might cause you to accept an accolade that you know you do not deserve? What would ... why would your instructors bestow it? Your fellow-students not object?"

"It is ... complicated, Master. My personal honor, the honor of the college, the honor of the instructors who ... failed to instruct. That there was ... an expectation that it would be so; that I would never be the equal -- that I could not be the equal, of a highblood. That the honor was that I had done the best I might, even if that best were not good enough, and that effort deserved recognition. My own youth. Shame, in part, that I could not pass that bar, and a desire that it ... be over. That I could return to my own life, and not have the failing held against me."

"And ... you told Cresphontes this?"

"He did not ask, Master."

"I ..." and Teodor stopped. "And all whites, all browns, all blacks -- all, all are treated so?"

"Perhaps one in ten truly deserves the accolade, according to Milos -- who does. Kant did, My Lord."

Teodor was quiet for a long, long minute, and when he spoke, it was slow. "I am amazed, and do not know what to do, Sasha."

"Nor I, Master," Sasha said. "I beg your forgiveness for ... for hesitating to place this before you."

"Well, at the very least, I will give it my very real consideration," Teodor said. "As to my forgiveness ... I would have to think very hard over the situations to determine whether I have anything to forgive -- but should I think of something, I promise you, I will forgive it in the next thought."

"Thank you, Master," Sasha said.

"Which brings us back to Kant. I will not leave him in slavery, Sasha. He is Lycaili. Bring him back."

"But ..."

"We will find -- or create -- a situation for him, Sasha. He is owed."

"I agree," said Sasha, "and it will be so."

"His family is owed, too."

"But ..."

"No," said Teodor. "We either treat Kant as an warrior, or we do not. And a fallen warrior's family is entitled. Owed."

"They will not appreciate it."

"In this case, Sasha, it is not for them."

"I ... I don't see."

"What, you think they will reject the offer of the Patriarch's Recommendation? When I deliver it in my own person?"

"Why would ... My Lord, it is my place to offer a Recommendation, not ..."

"You will be off in Ungoliant, retrieving Kant. And since you will be unavailable ..."

"I see," said Sasha. "But ..."

"Because they will hold you in the same lack of esteem, having first employed Kant, and, I beg your forgiveness, for having the temerity to be brown."

"I am brown," said Sasha. "Truth needs no forgiveness."

"That you are seen as lesser, even after your service and sacrifices, just because you are brown? That is something that ... well. It must be given thought, Sasha, it will not do. It is not in the tradition of Lycail."

Sasha shook his head. "Not so, Master. Lycail would not have agreed with that."

"He would not, I agree," said Teodor. "And so? Must our founder have been, in every respect, and every thought, perfect? He showed us a new way, Sasha, of looking at ourselves. Perhaps he would have disagreed. Perhaps he would have looked at you, and me, and simply said, yes, I should have thought of that. Or perhaps he would say, I knew my followers were not ready for that yet, but I trusted that some successor would. Or perhaps he might have simply said no, they cannot be worthy. I don't know. I hope he would not have said such a thing ... Lycail was a great bull, Sasha, but not perfect, any more than I am perfect, or Cresphontes was perfect, or any of us are perfect. If we do not step beyond Lycail's steps we cannot truly be said to follow in his path."

"Master ... I trust you will not say that to just anyone," said Sasha. "It would be ..."

"To imagine that Lycail was perfect is to diminish his greatness," said Teodor calmly. "I will not do that."

"I ... yes, Master," Sasha said. "And yet, I would beg you to be circumspect in that compliment."

Teodor chuckled. "I will, Sasha. I understand that. I will consult with Xavien."

"Xavien ..." Sasha shook his head again. "Master, it is he ..."

"It is he who would object the strongest? Yes. And he will be honest with me, blunt and uncaring of my opinion," Teodor said. "Unlike my other lords ... Sasha, I am concerned about Lord Chimes."

"Lord ..."

"He grows circumspect."

"Master?"

"I do not think I trust him now," Teodor said, as if coming to a decision.

"Is there a task for me there?"

"I ..." and Teodor paused. "Investigate. I authorize nothing beyond propriety. It may be ... you will find cause for me to set that aside, but at the moment I have nothing beyond ... a feeling. Is my will clear?"

"It is clear, Master. Investigate, and if I find reason to doubt him, bring that reason to you." Sasha paused. "Still ..."

"I should much rather prefer you found him trust_worthy_, Sasha," Teodor said.

"Of course, Master. Is ... is there some specific incident that ... I should start with?"

"Yes. Four days ago. When I summoned you. From Venrir." Teodor paused. "Which is a single day's travel, I note."

"My Lord ..."

"Presumably you were not in Venrir?"

"No, Master, I was not."

"I don't need to know where my Polychrome is?"

"Sometimes ... no," Sasha said. "But in this case ... Ungoliant. Investigating the report of an agent."

"Ah. Kant."

"Yes, Master. I hadn't planned to go further than Venrir, but I was fortunate enough to be there when the report came in, so I went. I judged it worthy of my time."

"Yes, very much so," Teodor said. "Something else happened while you were out of contact."

"Something that made you doubt Ruus?"

"Yes, but that is incidental," Teodor said dismissively. "Lord Chime's actions are a side-matter."

"Then ..."

"As close as I can gather, three months ago, a human named Caracalla died."

The brown minotaur nodded. "Caracalla, you say?"

"Yes. Does this mean anything to you?"

"Nothing at all, Master, unless this Caracalla was Emperor Caracalla of the Senate Empire."

Teodor smiled. "I thought you'd know."

"I take it something happened on his death?"

"Indeed. Apparently his nephew, Hierocles, became Emperor, and there was some turnover in the Senate itself."

"Turnover?"

"Hierocles condemned about two-thirds of the sitting Senators for corruption, and now commands a majority. And he has decided he wishes to open a relationship with the minotaur barbarians of the East."

Sasha blinked. "And what barbarians would those be, Master?"

"Us."

Sasha snorted, and a moment later, Teodor joined him in a brief laugh. "Us. Of ..." and then he paused. "He sent an ambassador?"

"He sent an ambassadorial party."

"How did General Randolph react?"

"By getting on a horse, and leaving for Mog Ford," Teodor said. "He was here, conferring with me. General Randolph wants to fortify Mog Ford. Teovance was there."

"Your cousin."

"My cousin."

"What ... what did your cousin do?"

"Mainly attempt to understand this Emperor's intentions. The lines of authority in this so-called ambassadorial party are confused, with no less than three Senators and an Imperial Emissary. The Senators speak for the Senate, the Emissary for the Emperor, but it's not clear who commands what. Teovance has made it clear that we will not permit armed forces on our side of the Ford, but that a small party of humans may discuss negotiating with him. Presently they are wanting to send a delegation of sixty to negotiate."

"That seems high."

"Yes," agreed Teodor. "But apparently importance is signaled by the number of attendents, and so the Imperial Emissary must have more than each of the Senators, who can survive with no less than four each."

"That does not make sixty."

"No," said Teodor. "They wish to bring some persons who will actually do work, as well."

"Will we meet with these humans?"

"The Council of Mages and the Generals are discussing that now. I have formally delivered the information to them, and requested their advice."

"Master, I cannot think you have not already decided."

Teodor shook his head. "Meet with ... who? Say hello? No, we will not open general talks with these Imperials, not until we've confirmed their tale, and not until we have a clear idea of what they hope to get from us. At any time, all their Empire has needed to do is stay out of our lands."

"My Lord, forgive me, but I know you." Sasha smiled. "You knew what you would do almost instantly, didn't you?"

"I cannot deny it," the gray minotaur said. "After some suitable time for deliberation, I intend to give them a copy of the Truces, and explain that until their Empire and Senate pledge to obey them, we have nothing to discuss. Further, should they wish to discuss something, they shall send a single plenipotentiary, and not this confusion of officials who all claim to speak for someone else."

"That seems ... reasonable. Why the debate?"

"Perhaps someone will have a better idea, Sasha," said Teodor wearily. "Supposedly, my Lords and Generals are supposed to advise me. I find it boggling to think that I, and I alone, always have the best, the wisest, the right course of action."

"But ..."

"If I come out and say what I think first, all I ever hear is recapitulations. Minor variants. Adjustments," said Teodor. "No. What I want is ... other ideas."

"That is not what Chresphontes wanted," said Sasha, after a moment.

"No. And I think Tarsus was the same way, and Riacles before him ... possibly all the way back to Lycail."

"Ah, My Lord, I see your error."

"My ... you do? What?"

"You are expecting your clan to embrace change, My Lord."

Teodor let out a loud puff of air. "No, Sasha, not really. But I will drag them forward kicking and screaming if I must. So. How long will it take you to set up ... agents? Is that the right term? Among the humans?"

Sasha shook his shoulders in a shrug. "My Lord, I have no idea. I have never been on the far side of Mog Ford. I have almost no information on the Senate Empire. It's never been a concern."

"Very well," said Teodor. "Report when you know more."

"How shall I ..."

"I will send Ianthos to Ungoliant to retrieve Kant," Teodor said. "Perhaps with a missive for their Patriarch as well. Set what you can for Ruus in motion, but ... I need to know more about the humans; I feel like we are operating blind. I do not know how you usually set up agents, but ... you know I have the Commander-of-Thousands from their army, yes? He should have a great many structural details of this Senate Empire. Make use of him."

"The human you've been dosing with lantail to keep him from adjusting to us."

"Yes."

"I have heard rumors that he is uncooperative."

Teodor shook his head. "He is. You may use your magic on him freely as long as he is unaware of what you're doing, and he takes no harm."

Sasha bowed. "I understand, Master. Is there more, or may I have leave to carry out your will?"

"I have nothing more. Perhaps you do, though?"

"Nothing ... urgent. I can write a report. You are still viewed with concern outside Lycaili."

Teodor nodded. "But that is improving?"

"Somewhat. It's still not good," Sasha said. "But your decision to offer Dacien a pyre ... went some way towards improving matters. And your unilateral rejection of magic in war, although ... nobody's quite sure what that means, given your rather, ah, nuanced statement on the Truces."

"It means what it means," said Teodor. "It sounds like the worst of the damage is ... past."

"Yes."

"Then I think there's no need for haste in further action. Let us see how things go. The ... Ianthos' trip to Ungoliant will stir that pot, and I have no idea how."

Sasha paused, trying to think what might happen, but ... "I don't know, either. I assume you ... you're going to do this formally, rather than just make an offer?"

"Formally, yes. These so-called Scyllans are honorless scum, Sasha. Requesting Kant's return formally will keep attention on their atrocities."

"I ... Yes, Master."