I, Dacien

A Story by Onyx Tao © 2014 Onyx Tao

I, Dacien by Onyx Tao is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at onyx-tao.sofurry.com.

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Curiousity

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His Imperial Highness Prince Noroma Newton Oto, Crown Prince of the Nippon clans, Emissary of His Imperial Majesty Emperor Hideyoshi Newton Oto, Emperor of the Nippon Clans, lay on the floor and did not move. In part, that was caused by his concentration on exactly what had so disordered the lines of causality as to snap them altogether. Another part was shock that this horrible sense of ripped time - however possible he knew it was - had happened. And in part, it was that he wasn't sure he could move to begin with.

At least the thick, shaggy carpet had cushioned his fall and even silenced the sound of his impact so that his guards hadn't come running in. Although ... how long had he been laying there? Noroma cautiously tested time - and pulled back, with some ineffable part of himself cut on the shredded possibilities. He hurt. Experimentally, he tried lifting an arm, and the shakes did not surprise him. No. He would not be able to even lift himself to a chair.

How long would this last? Would he still be able to attend Lord Teodor's ... informal family dinner, the note had called it. It had seemed a good sign, but perhaps he should have had his steward discuss it with General Un, who was serving as a hastily-appointed Master of Protocol. It seemed an odd way of running a court to Noroma, to lack a Master of Protocol, but that was, apparently, the way things worked in the West.

He was still breathing, of course which in turn suggested that he could call for one of his guards - but he didn't want to explain what had happened to him. He couldn't, not without revealing secrets he had no right to reveal. At the same time, they would assume he'd been attacked, and that would send them into a most unproductive set of actions. One hardly needed prophetic powers to realize that.

Another attempt to move, however, made it clear that the only alternative to lay on the floor was call for help. Eventually a servant would find him ... and that decided him. A guard he could swear to silence, but servant gossip about finding an Imperial Prince helpless would be harder to conceal. "Rikuto?" he tried to say, only to have his throat seize up on him on the first syllable as it tried to pronounce the name a thousand different ways in a million dead possibilities. Even call for help might not be an option, he thought with a sort of grim humor.

But he'd experienced timelash before, in practice sessions with the Emperor, if never this severe. He concentrated on forming the word, one sound at a time, until he could say it all in the same now, and then paused. Calling for help and being unable to explain that his condition was not the result of poisoning or attack or ... that would trigger the same disastrous chain of events. He would have to concentrate on speaking. He'd never been so badly timelashed that he couldn't talk or move - and, Noroma thought, suddenly afraid, so timelashed that he couldn't think. He had - must have - passed out; he didn't remember hitting the floor, so ... no wonder he hadn't heard anything. How long had he been unconscious? It wasn't even a question he could ask his guard without revealing the fundamental failure of his temporal sense. It couldn't have been too long, though, or someone would have walked in on him already. The lack of his ability to simply reach and enter contemplative time and see which bulls might respond was frustrating - but then, if he could still do that, he would hardly require them.

Frustrating or not, Prince Noroma still had that disaster to avoid. He had to get speaking again, had to get his voice and words under control ... he tried a few simple words, fought to master the oscillating choppiness of his timelashed senses. He couldn't say how long it took it him - literally couldn't, without his sense of time, but that would be the very last thing to recover and might take days. It depended on just how far out the possibilities he'd been pulling towards were - and he didn't know that. He simply had to wait out the disturbances in time, let the flow stabilize, the shattered alternate causalities dissolve back into the timelines.

Until he'd moved past and through the temporal disturbance he'd created, though, anything he tried would simply amplify and reinforce the disruption. Not good. Not good at all. Unfortunately, there just wasn't anything he could do about it at the moment.

He tried a few words, and when they came out acceptably, tried a few other quiet practice phrases, to make sure he could impose his will on the situation. "Tell no one," he whispered. "Help me to the chair." "I will improve." "The danger is past." "Do not ask." They sounded acceptable, and he added, "I will explain later."

That seemed like enough to start with, and Noroma really thought he'd recover more quickly if he weren't tangled up where he'd fallen. Experimentally, he tried moving again - but directed motion was still beyond his abilities. No help for it; either he called for a guard or let a servant walk in on him, and the latter was infinitely worse than the former. "Rikuto!" he called out to the ebon warlord currently at his door - whom he thought should be at the door - and then, with a more effort, he put some volume into the cry. "Rikuto! Come!"

He heard the door in the sitting room open. "Your Highness?" a guard said tentatively. "Rikuto is not on duty ..." and then, with more alarm, "Your Highness? Your Highness!"

"Here," called Noroma, and a moment later, legs came into his view, and then blurred as Pristine hands were checking his pulse, looking for wounds. "Not ... hurt," he managed to say, and then, "Tell no one. Help me to a chair." Saying the words was harder than he'd expected. "Explain ... later."

At least the part about the chair seemed to get through, although even the faint temporal disruption as the warlord's own personal time impacted on him was painful. "No ... no tempus," he added, trying to keep the pain out of his voice. "Stay ... stay in normal time." Who was this that who had moved him? Large, Pristine ... but that described twenty-five of his guard. He knew all of the guard, should be able to recognize each warlord from his voice alone - but his memories seemed as scrambled as his senses. Who was scheduled for duty after Rikuto? And ... that meant he'd been passed out for at least an hour, Noroma realized. He'd been timelashed much worse than he'd thought. At least he'd survived ... with a cold, gut-churning realization of just how disastrous his death in Lycaili would have been. What had happened?

Noroma finally got a look at the warrior's face, and relaxed slightly when he saw it was Bhuto Faramir Oodaku.

"Your Highness, should I call your ..."

"No," Noroma said. "Stay."

"Your Highness, I cannot leave either the door or your person unguarded ... I am calling for more guards, Your Highness."

"Around the suite, only. Inside, only you," Noroma said, the words coming easier now. "Not a threat. Temporal shock."

"Should I call for one of the Lycaili healers, Your Highness?"

"No," said Noroma. "Would not help." He relaxed into the chair as Bhuto went back out, and the temporal distortion faded away.

Bhuto returned, without the shredding feeling of tempus this time. "I have summoned more guards, General Yasutoshi, and your steward, Your Highness."

Noroma nodded. "Just ... the General, then. And you."

"Yes, Your Highness."

One more thing. "How long ... until dinner?"

"You want food, Your Highness?"

"No," said Noroma. "The dinner with ... Lord Teodor. When ... when is it?"

Bhuto looked shocked, and then quickly said, "Four hours, Your Highness. Will you be recovered?"

"I ... I hope ... so," Noroma said. Four hours. That means he'd been unconscious for just under an hour. "Bhuto, I want ..."

"Your Highness!" interrupted General Yasutoshi, who'd entered the suite unnoticed by Noroma, although Bhuto seemed unsurprised. "What ... are you ... how badly are you ... affected? What did this?"

"Temporal shock," repeated Noroma. "My fault."

"You should not be attempting new grandmaster techniques here, Your Highness," the General said reprovingly. "Especially ones difficult to master."

"Yes," Noroma said, "I wish knowledge of this suppressed. You know. Bhuto knows. Who else?"

"Nobody, Your Highness, although Kadira is outside. He knows only that something unexpected has happened."

"Tell him and the on-duty guards not to speak of it," instructed Noroma. "Lycaili must not know."

"As you command, but ... wouldn't a healer ..."

"No," said Noroma. "I will recover well enough. Feeling better already. I'll attend Lord Teodor's private dinner tonight. But I may ..." he stopped. "Will, I will need help dressing." Words were coming more easily now. He carefully turned his head to look at the midnight blue bull. "Were you able to find out anything more about this quiet family dinner?"

"Ah ..." said General Yasutoshi, caught a little by surprise by the quick change in topic. "Very little, Your Highness. It will be small, and mostly family - his son Mage Chelm, himself, and perhaps a cousin, Diamant, who arrived today for a consultation with Lord Teodor. He's a merchant, selling grain and foodstuffs from all over the West - we don't have any further information on him. Perhaps he's a close friend, but ... I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness, we don't have the information on Lycaili that you need. There was simply no need to gather it, and so ... I feel like we're operating blind."

"There is nothing to forgive," sighed Noroma. "You're right. We didn't need anything beyond the broadest picture out here. Nobody expected that to change, not me, certainly not His Majesty. Simply do the best you can. I shall find out more, I suppose, at the dinner."

"Yes, Your Highness. I can confirm that our original information about the relationship between the Patriarch and his Regent was ... not wrong, but definitely incomplete. They have vast policy differences, and in the past, personal differences verging on enmity, but ... they seem to have not merely reconciled but become fast friends."

"I thought the Patriarch had Lord Xavien arrested!"

General Yasutoshi nodded solemnly. "He did, Your Highness. Without any explanation other than to refer the matter to Lord Xavien himself. But Lord Xavien's tale is that the Patriarch acted more than correctly, and he is grateful for Lord Teodor's restraint and wisdom. During the arrest, Lord Xavien was paroled here at the palace, and ... consulted closely with the Patriarch. And he was restored several days later - again, without explanation." The General frowned. "Although ... he was relieved of many of his previous duties. But that may be because Lord Xavien now appears to be one of the Patriarch's closest advisers. Except ... that apparently Lord Teodor doesn't take his advice." The General held up his hands. "The situation is clearly complex."

"Are they ... could they be together?" asked Noroma.

"No one believes so," the General answered slowly. "It would make sense; neither seems to have a partner at the moment. Although, nobody seems to think it at all likely. Lord Xavien is known to prefer his humans, and Lord Teodor - seems to continue his reputation as private and reclusive aside from public events. They might be. They might not." A hint of frustration seeped into his voice. "I bring Lord Xavien up, Your Highness, because Lord Teodor has placed him on tonight's guest list."

"Teodor, Chelm, Diamant, Xavien ... and me. That would suggest that Teodor and Xavien are together, wouldn't it?"

"I ... it is most suggestive, Your Highness," Yasutoshi said. "Other than the small fact that nobody thinks they are."

"Complicated, then."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Have you identified his other close advisers?"

"Yes, Your Highness. His secretary, General Zachiah. Sasha Lord Doze, Ianthos Lord Winter, Ruus Lord Chimes, and possibly Metrios Lord Lash. General Osaze, without question. Some years ago, Your Highness, Warlord Osaze and Mage Teodor were briefly together, but parted on such an amiable basis that they remained on visiting terms. Osaze had - still has - access to Lord Teodor's residences, and Teodor had - and used - Osaze's.

"General Hector and General Un appear to have easy access to Lord Teodor as well, and I suspect their words carry influence with him, if not so much as the others. He has contact with a host of other officials, but ... we have not yet determined what influence they might have on him," General Yasutoshi concluded. "I fear there's not much more then we already knew, but ... everything I've said may now be considered firm rather than supposition."

"That's good," Prince Noroma said, and moved himself, testing his ability to do so. His arms and legs twinged, but moved mostly as he wanted them too, if reluctantly. Mostly.

"Your Highness ... you do not seem well, and ... you don't wish for your condition to be known," the General said carefully. "I could have Kadira talk to General Un and find some unoffending reason that you cannot attend tonight."

Prince Noroma shook his head. "No. This is ... a small, private gathering. And - perhaps you hadn't heard yet about his meeting with his senior generals?"

"I had, but they are remarkably close-mouthed. It was about your generous offer of alliance, and it went for its allotted length, but I regret I have nothing to offer regarding what happened."

Prince Noroma gave a small smile. "I have it that Lord Teodor threw out two Generals."

"Yes, because apparently Lord Teodor had blunt words for the remainder."

"Did he?"

"I do not know, Your Highness; I have no clear idea of what was discussed beyond the question of acceptance of Your Highness' offer, and - presumably - some reprimand."

"I understand," said the Prince. "Were the Generals angry? Upset?"

General Yasutoshi shook his head. "I cannot guess. I suspect some of them are having second thoughts about appointing a Roan Patriarch, but I have no evidence to suggest that."

"I understand," Noroma said. "I even agree."

"On that subject, Your Highness, I have a small concern," the General said apologetically. "Two, really.

"Oh?"

"I had not thought it worth your time, Your Highness, but a number of the Household Guard have similar concerns, and so perhaps it is worthy of your notice."

"Please," said Noroma, although he had a feeling he knew what at least one of the small concerns was, and waited.

Yasutoshi stood silent for a long, long time. "It is the matter of offering His Highness Prince Lyo to Lycaili, Your Highness," the General said. "Lycaili is not part of the Clans. Lycaili is not even a large clan - rather, it is small. If His Majesty wished to make some approachment to the West, why Lycaili, and not one of the clans who are close to us? Leviathan, or Ungoliant? And ... there is the matter of offering the Imperial blood to ..." the General took a breath, "this Roan."

"I see," said Prince Noroma. "You question the Imperial Will?"

"But, Your Highness, is this the Imperial Will?" the General looked almost dour as he continued. "There was no mention of such a thing, no preparation for a follow-on journey to the West, nothing. Kadira and myself are Imperial Counselors, and His Majesty did not breathe so much as a hint - much less consult us, as he would have. Your Highness, true or not, this strikes the Household Guard as some kind of ... diplomatic improvisation on your part."

"I see," said the Prince, again. "But, General, do I or do I not have the authority to make such, what was your phrase? Diplomatic improvisations, as my Father's plenipotentiary?"

"You do, Your Imperial Highness, have the authority to speak for His Majesty in this and all matters," the General said quietly. "But even though you have that awesome authority, you are not the Emperor. And there is much discontent at this decision - I say that only to make Your Imperial Highness aware of the dissatisfaction with the course to which you have pledged His Majesty's honor. I submit fully to Your Highness' representation of His Majesty. If this be your will, then it be His will. But I am also charged to advise you, Your Highness, and I cannot do that if I do not know your mind.

"I must ask, Your Imperial Highness. Kadira and I, no less than you, are answerable in our duties to His Majesty, and we must know. These words bind the Emperor's honor, we understand and submit to the Imperial will, but are they the Emperor's? Or have you spoken as you think he would speak, were he here?"

"My Father vested me with the Imperial Will," Prince Noroma said. "I am answerable to him, not to you, and I have no doubt that his affirmation is even now on its way."

The General bowed. "Yes, Your Highness. I submit to Your Highness on the matter - I simply beg what I must have to carry out my own duties. If this offer of His Serenity as consort will come as a surprise to His Majesty, then I must know."

"He can make his approval - or disapproval, if he disapprove - clear in his response," the Prince said. "But he will approve. I point out, General Yasutoshi, that there are overwhelming reasons for doing this. Lycaili is at the center of - of - everything that concerned my Father to begin with. Ninja! The Truces! A human kingdom!"

"Then why would you - I beg Your Highness' forgiveness, why would your Imperial Father want his son here?" asked Yasutoshi. "Why are we involving ourselves in this ... this chaos?"

"Because chaos spreads," Prince Noroma said sharply. "And, in all fairness, the events here are more complex than I realized. Are you aware that these humans deployed mage-weapons and attempted to unleash a deadly magic plague on Lycaili-Ouroubouros? They crushed an entire army."

"Yes ... but once Lycaili realized the existence of the threat, they neutralized it."

"This magical threat."

"The humans don't have access to the war spells."

Prince Noroma's eyes twitched. "Oh? How do you know that? I don't know that, and I think I may have more information on that than you, General."

"They've ..." and the General paused. "I beg your forgiveness. You are correct, I don't know that, but they have never used them, and ... I thought those spells were entrusted to us by the Creators. How would the humans get them to begin with? How could they have them?"

"Who knows?" said the Prince. "But we ought not assume they don't have them. If anything, if they have them, they might not understand what they have, or how dangerous those devices are."

The General drew a breath. "Yes, Your Highness. Have you considered the alternative?"

Noroma's brow creased. "What?" He tried to move his head to look at the General, and badly overcorrected. But still, any motion was an improvement. "Alternative? What alternative?"

"Your Highness, all this ... what if it be simply the machinations of a mind-bending mage?" The General took a deep breath. "Teodor Lycaili, roan and mind-mage, has been at the center of all of these events. The alleged human army and its magic-weapons. The arrest of Lord Xavien, and his ... remarkable response. The ninja attacks, culminating in the death of Lord Cresphontes, and then ... Teodor takes the Patriarch's Chair. And now he is in control of Lycaili, and ... proposing changes to the Truces of Xarbydis, based on the alleged existence of a surviving Scyllan cult?" The General shook his head. "Your Highness, we must consider that we are being ... misled. Perhaps even ... manipulated. Is this Teodor truly sane? How can we know?"

"Well," said Noroma. "I ..." and he paused. "That theory does explain a number of mysteries and peculiarities, but ... it is wrong. I will admit I came prepared to discover that the reports from Teodor and Lycaili were exaggerated, but I have come to think they are alarmingly correct, and ... that there are a number of matters that Lord Teodor has covered up, although I cannot imagine why."

"Your Highness?"

"His son Dacien. What have you been able to discover about him?"

"Almost nothing, Your Highness. It's as if he just appeared, a little less than a year ago, and then just as mysteriously vanished."

"Supposedly a mage," Prince Noroma prompted.

"Yes, Your Highness. Officially. Although ... there was apparently some kerfuffle over even that, but..." and the General shook his head hopelessly. "Even that is confused. Very few bulls seem to have come in contact with Dacien, although any number of them report that Chelm was protective of him."

"Mage Chelm."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Have you ever heard of a mage's son being a mage as well? Much less two?"

"No, Your Highness," and then the General nodded. "Still, one is possible ... vanishingly unlikely, of course, but Chelm's presence is far better supported than this Dacien's. Might Dacien have been adopted, somehow?"

"Perhaps," said Prince Noroma, thoughtfully. "It would ... explain the suddenness of his appearance. I was thinking, however, that perhaps Teodor has discovered some way to initiate a mage."

"Folly!" swore General Yasutoshi. "I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness. But if that's so ..." he shook his head. "Even the possibility is destabilizing. I must ask again, Your Highness, why are we here? And why, Your Highness, have you offered these barbarians a hostage of the Imperial line?"

Noroma closed his eyes, and spoke very quietly, to force the General to listen. "My family's responsibility, General, is to safeguard our people, and in my judgment - and therefore, His Majesty's judgment - that is best served by having a member of my family here, in Lycaili."

"Again, I beg your forgiveness, Your Highness, but consort is a powerless role."

Prince Noroma closed his eyes. "All roles are powerless. Power resides in the bulls who shoulder them."

* * *

Lords Teodor Lycaili and Xavien entered the small, private dining room just as Dapple deferentially showed in Chelm, attended by Zebra and Leopard, and His Imperial Highness, Prince Noroma, attended by one of his warlords, whom Teodor recognized as Bhuto.

"I had almost forgotten how pleasant it is to be on time," Teodor said with a smile, and then he looked at Chelm. "I've been looking forward to this dinner for the last two days," and then he gave a respectful bow to Prince Noroma. "And I am pleased to have the opportunity to share it with you, Your Highness."

"I am deeply honored to have been invited, Lord Teodor."

Teodor nodded. "I do not share my family dinners lightly - but then, you may well be family to me."

"Then you have an answer for me, Excellence?"

Teodor gave a slight, hesitant shrug. "Perhaps, Your Highness ... I have discussed this matter with General Un, and he assures me that it is a violation of protocol for any kind of state affair - but I assured him that this is not a state affair, but a simple family dinner, with ... close friends, and a prospective ... well, if not suitor, then the brother - family - to one. I would be very pleased if you would forego the formalities of address, and consider me to be simply Te during this dinner." Teodor gestured at the table. "General Un informs me that the request is perhaps unusual and shockingly informal, but, if rendered in good faith, cannot be considered rude. I trust he is correct?"

"He is correct, and ... again, it is an unlooked for intimacy. Perhaps you could call me Noro?"

"Noro, welcome to my household and table. I have dismissed my own guards, though they stand outside, of course."

"I would do the same," the Prince said, "if but my instructions permitted it. My Imperial Father is perhaps overly cautious with my safety."

"What father does not wish to protect his sons?" asked Teodor.

"It is an essential part of fatherhood," Lord Xavien said, and then turned to Noroma and Chelm. "For myself, I would invite you to call me Xe," and then he added, "tonight."

"You - all of you - are welcome to call me Noro," the Prince responded, appending "tonight" almost as an afterthought.

"Dinner is ready, I am told," Teodor said. "If we would sit," and the four of them were seated. Dapple stood behind Teodor, Leopard and Zebra knelt on the floor beside Chelm. Bhuto took up a position directly behind Noroma, looking remarkably blank-faced.

"I was a little uncertain about the invitation," Noroma said. "I hardly warrant such a thing."

"A seat at my family table? Maybe," said Teodor. "But certainly, in the future, should Prince Lyo be welcomed to my family as consort, you would undoubtedly have a place, is that not so?"

"I cannot deny it," Noroma said.

"Then why should I not extend the courtesy to you in advance?"

"Do you know, I cannot think of a single reason when you phrase it like that," Noroma said. "Although I had hoped for a different justification."

"The answer you so politely continue to request, yes..." said Teodor. "I hate to think that uncertainty would spoil the meal. I have come to a decision, and thought it only right to share it with my family first, and yet, to deny you the first news as well strikes me as an unbecoming meanness."

"And so, the invitation to your private dinner ..." said Noroma. "I am honored."

"Thank you," said Teodor simply, acknowledging the remark. "Noro, I met today with a number of the senior Generals, and coaxed their thoughts from them ..."

"Coaxed?" Noroma said.

"That is the word, yes," said Teodor. "Apparently my predecessors were wont to govern in a more, ah, autocratic fashion than mine. But then, they all had decades of administrative and diplomatic experience that I lack. I am leaning heavily on my Generals while I attempt to remedy my shortcomings, but ... they seem to hesitate at offering their opinions to me." He gave a brief grin at Xavien. "One of the many reasons I so treasure Xe. He has never failed to offer his thoughts."

"I see," said Noroma. "I admit, from my briefings, I had wondered at your apparent closeness when you twain are so opposed on policy."

"Excuse me, Noro," Xavien broke in, "but we are not opposed on policy. At one time, Lord Fog and myself were opposed, but I am in full submission to Lord Teodor. His policy is my policy, especially when I have urged a different one."

"I quite understand," Noroma said. "I beg your forgiveness for my clumsy phrasing."

"None is needed. It is simply that, even as I have counseled for, ah, alternative approaches to Lord Teodor's eventual course, I wish it clear that his is the final word."

"Is this not a little close to business for a family dinner?" asked Chelm lightly. "Besides, I am more than ready to eat."

"Dapple, I think we're ready for the soup," Teodor instructed.

"Yes, Master," he replied, and walked unobtrusively out of the room.

"Well, and if I haven't let myself be distracted from your point of interest," Teodor said. "Prince Noroma, my Generals are unabashedly in favor of this alliance, as are my other senior advisers. I have not consulted Chelm or ..." he paused, "my own father, but then I know what Teomas would tell me: that it's my business, not his."

"Grandfather is a prodigal supplier of brandy, less so advice," Chelm said. "Although I have always found him good to talk to."

"I cannot spare the time to go see him," sighed Teodor, "and he has declined my invitations on the basis that he does not care to leave his farm until after the harvest. Although I cannot blame him; this is a busy time for him."

"I am glad to hear that those around you see the advantages of the union," Noroma said cautiously, and then paused as Dapple walked back into the room carrying a tureen, and began carefully ladling a thick steaming soup of opaque bright green into the bowls, starting with Chelm, and working his way around the table to finish with Teodor. Chelm paused Dapple momentarily, and gestured at his two humans. Dapple nodded his understanding, and continued around the table. They waited for Dapple to finish, and take the soup back out.

"It smells lovely," said Noro, taking a taste after Teodor had been served. "Asparagus?"

"I believe so ... I was sent the menu for approval," admitted Teodor, taking a taste of his own soup, "but I set it aside and, ah, didn't quite get back to it. I wasn't too concerned. Cook knows our tastes, and since I know nothing of yours ... I hope asparagus pleases?"

Dapple re-entered the room silently with two additional mugs of soup that he placed by Leopard and Zebra.

"It's ... not common in Nippon," said Noroma. "But yes, it pleases."

"I am confident that nothing too challenging will appear on the table tonight," said Teodor. "As I was saying, I have come to a decision, which is to say, a course of action."

"Then ..." said Noroma.

"I am tentatively in favor, and would like to invite His Serene Highness Lyo Kelvin Oto, to Lycaili." Teodor looked pensive. "I would like to get to know His Serenity, and ... I would like His Serenity to know me before I answer you fully. I do not wish to sentence him or myself to a lengthy and unhappy cohabitation. Yes, certainly, there are advantages for Lycaili, and I rather see some for your own clans, as well, but ... there has to be some basis for personal connection between us."

"How romantic," Xavien said.

"Do you think so, Xe?" said Teodor. "Would you advise me differently?"

"I? I think you have made your decision," said Xavien. "Are you opening it up for reconsideration?"

Teodor considered that carefully as he spooned his soup.

"That as much sounds like disapproval as anything might," Chelm said, "only without the benefit of basis. I would point out that my father - as strange as his decisions may well be - most certainly listens when he solicits advice."

"True," said Xavien. "Very well. I think it is possible to create a relationship, so I think your reservation is without merit. But what of that? It is still a concrete step forward towards your decision, and therefore worthwhile."

"I am being too cautious with my personal affections, then."

Xavien nodded, putting his spoon back into his now-empty bowl. "Yes, Te. It is an alliance; personal preference should play a lesser, not greater, role."

"I cannot say you're wrong, much as I might like to," Teodor nodded, and then looked down at his bowl. "Dapple, we're ready for next course."

The slave nodded, and, gathering the soup bowls and the two mugs, exited the room.

Teodor looked at Noroma. "Perhaps I am playing the romantic, Your Highness. And yet, it seems to me that the alliance you invite would be poorly served by having your brother miserable."

"I do not believe you would make him miserable," Noroma said politely.

"I would certainly not do so intentionally," said Teodor. "But ... well. Perhaps it is only my own heart that is fearful. Perhaps I am afraid that it is I who would be miserable. I am certain that if my consort were unhappy, I would be unhappy. And ... if I could not change it, then, yes, miserable." The Patriarch looked up as Dapple came back in, placing two platters of meat on the table. He glanced at Chelm, who nodded slightly, before offering two small plates with liberal portions of thin-sliced meat to the humans.

"Family style," Teodor said. "I trust ..."

"I am in awe of your daring," Prince Noroma said with a smile. "I don't believe anyone's ever served me so informally. But then I've never been invited to a private family dinner before."

"No?" said Teodor. "How ... isolating. One hears stories ... rumors, really, about the Imperial Household. I scarcely know what to credit."

"Those who know, do not not speak," sighed Noroma. "I suspect the rumors are wrong."

"You are probably right. Still, I had hoped you might tell me a little about Prince Lyo, his upbringing, interests, hobbies ..." said Teodor.

"In truth, I don't know him all that well," admitted Noroma. "I had already assumed many of my own duties when he was young, and our paths did not cross - and do not cross now. He has his duties at the court, of course, and those keep him busy, even as mine keep me busy, but there is not much overlap."

"I see," said Teodor, trying not to sound disappointed. "Well, then perhaps you can tell me what amusements and entertainments are common at court. What he's been exposed to, even if you cannot tell me what he enjoys."

"I beg your forgiveness, Lord Teodor, but one doesn't speak of events or happenings in the Imperial Houshold, and I simply don't encounter him outside."

"I see," said Teodor. "Then you can tell me nothing?"

"Ah ... I know he judges competitions, weapons matches. Between bulls."

"Between ..." said Teodor. "Then there are blood sports at the Nippon Courts?"

"Sometimes," said Noroma. "I understand you have discouraged them here."

"Yes," said Teodor. "Although Chelm has rather singlehandedly created a variant."

"It is not a blood sport," the dark red minotaur said, sounding hurt. "It is wrestling. Damaging an opponent is disqualifying."

"I've never said I didn't approve," Teodor murmured.

"I approve," said Xevian, taking another slice of meat. "I heartily approve. Both of the wrestling, and of the lack of injury. Chelm has created an exciting sport. I have spent numerous evenings being well-amused at the spectacle."

"You ... I was unaware you had come to any of the events," Chelm said, after a moment.

"One of the advantages of being a mage is that one may, with very little effort, disguise oneself," Xavien said. "And avoid the tiresome obsequiousness that is displayed to those of high rank. Surely, Noro, you have done that yourself?"

"If I had, I would not admit it," said Noro. "And I do not have the advantages of being a mage."

"We do," Xavien said. "Chelm, isn't there a tourney later tonight? At the Ternhall?"

"Yes," said Chelm. "But I'm not fighting Leopard or Zebra tonight."

"Let me disguise you as a mere ebon, Prince Noroma, and we - all of us, Te included - can go see this new innovation of Chelm's. You can get us in, yes?"

"Of course," said Chelm, "but all the boxes will be spoken for."

"Bah," said Xavien. "The seats are comfortable enough. And ... are there not one or two spots for last-minute entries?"

"There may be, if no bull has claimed them ..." said Chelm slowly. "But Leopard is now the fourth-ranked in the circuit. The last-minute spots are for late registrants, who are, frankly, given poorer bouts and matches. It would not be fair to anyone to insert him," Chelm said, and then looked down at where Zebra had very respectfully put his head on Chelm's boot. "I retired you ..." Chelm said, but there was some consideration in his voice. "Still, I've kept Zebra in practice with Leopard ..."

"It would be fun, would it not?" asked Xavien.

"I? Are you suggesting ... I couldn't," Teodor said. "Might I remind you that I leave a trail of gray behind me?"

"I undertake to suppress it for the evening," Xavien said dismissively. "Simple enough. Longer would be difficult, but this? It's hardly any different than a formal reception. Besides, have you seen even a single bout?" The large ebon stared at the smaller bull. "You haven't, have you?"

"No ..." Teodor admitted after a moment.

"Then shouldn't you see it before you judge?" asked Chelm. "I've always felt that you didn't approve - even though I created the sport, in part, because of your own objections to others." The roan gave a small smile. "I think I know something about your opinions on the matter, after all."

"My opinions five decades previous ..." started Teodor, and then he sighed. "And yet, for all that, you are right. I should see it. I have put it off, I fear, in part because I was - am - afraid that I would find it objectionable, and I did not want to have to take official notice of something so dear to your heart, Chelm, only to forbid it."

"It is perfectly in keeping with your beliefs," said Chelm. "I am confident that you will ... well, I am not confident you will approve, you have the strangest qualms sometimes, but I am confident you will not disapprove."

"Ah," said Teodor. "Then, at some point, I shall permit you to take me."

"Some point being tonight?" asked Xavien?

"Tonight ... no, impossible," said Teodor. "Not on such short notice."

"And yet didn't you have the evening clear for this dinner?" Xavien pressed.

"Yes ..."

"Then what possible objection can you find?" asked Chelm.

"I can hardly take His Imperial Highness to a ..."

"I would like to go," Noroma said, interrupting. "I will speak for myself. It sounds interesting, instructive, and amusing. May we go, Lord Teodor?"

Teodor looked uncertainly at Chelm for a moment, and then back to Noroma. "I did not mean to speak for you, but ..."

"Please come, Father," Chelm said softly. "His Highness would like to come. I would like you to come. Come."

Teodor shook his head. "Much as I might like to, I doubt that Osaze could ..." and then Teodor stopped, and a look of surprise followed by betrayal slipped across his muzzle, and Teodor said hollowly, "General Osaze gives his blessing to this excursion, if His Imperial Highness' Master of Guard is informed and blesses it. General Yasutoshi, I believe?"

"Yes," said Prince Noroma.

"General Osaze will coordinate with him," Teodor continued, sounding ... stunned. "He suggests that ten or so of the Patriarch's Guard will take their counterparts out for a most amusing evening, so that they will be on-hand if needed, thus maintaining our disguise."

"The General may want more guards, but ... I cannot imagine him turning it down. I expect he'll attend himself," Noroma said, sounding pleased.

"The very thing," Chelm said, and turned to Xavien. "Master, I would like to use magic to contact my friend Wickard, and arrange for seating for us. It may be that a box is available after all, but at the very worst we can reserve good seating ..."

"Do so," said Xavien. "It will be good practice. I will observe."

"Thank you, Master," Chelm said. "Wickard? This is Chelm."

"Magic, of course. This is the far-talking spell. You've never had the experience?"

"Always a first time, my friend. But the reason is simple - I want to speak with you, of course. I met with a few new friends, and I've talked them into coming to the tourney tonight. If there's a free box -"

"Just the four of us. And is it possible that a blank card remains unspoken?"

"No, not Leopard. That wouldn't be at all sporting. But yes, I should like to bespeak it."

"Ah - Wick, please, it's Chelm, simply Chelm when we're speaking like this. Magic is intimate, after all."

"Yes, thank you, I'd appreciate that. And you don't need to go such trouble ..."

"Unnecessary, but I appreciate it. Thank you!" Chelm said with some surprise, and turned his attention back to table. "Wickard will see if there's a box available, or if he can make one available, and if he can't, he's promised us good seats."

Teodor's gaze settled on Chelm. "Marvelous," he said, sounding as if he meant the exact opposite. "Marvelous. It will be an interesting evening, I suppose. Assuming General Yasutoshi gives his approval, after all."

"I'm sure it will be an interesting evening regardless," Prince Noroma said. "Even if we cannot take advantage of this opportunity."

"Yes," said Teodor. "It has been an interesting day ... why should the evening be less filled with, ah, excitement?"

"Excitement?" asked Chelm. "Father?"

"I did have one other item of business, but it occurs to me that I have three experts on tempus; at least, Noro, I assume you're adept, at least?"

"You could safely say so," Noroma replied with a small smile.

"Well, before we were sidetracked, I was about to propose sending a formal invitation to Prince Lyo to visit Lycaili. Lord Xavien has some business around Leviathan Port, so I thought I'd send a troop of guard with him, and formally deliver a request for His Serene Highness to visit Lycaili to the Mosuran Consul there."

"I ... I am gratified," Noroma said after a moment, and then he turned to Xavien, who had stiffened in his chair. "Xe? Is something wrong?"

"I ... I beg your forgiveness," said Xavien after a moment. "I ... I had not expected Lord Teodor to act so ... ah, instantly, on the matter. But of course I would be honored and gratified to carry such a request. Since I'm headed that way, anyway."

"I see. It won't interfere with your business?"

"No," said Xavien tightly. "It will not."

"I ... I hope I have not offended you," Noroma said. "I beg your forgiveness if I have, but ..."

"There is nothing to forgive," Xavien said, and then after a moment, added, "Nothing whatsoever."

"No," said Teodor. "You don't mind turning a private trip into a public one?"

"I don't see how I can," said Xavien. "Although ... no, no, there is nothing to object to, given your phrasing ..."

"I feel like I am missing something," Noroma said.

"I do beg your forgiveness," Teodor said. "It is simply that my council thought that combining Lord Xavien's private mission with a formal request to the Emperor and His Serene Highness might be indelicate, and I wanted to be certain that no offense would be taken."

"None at all," said Prince Noroma.

"That settled, there was one other minor matter ... as I said, the three of you are ..." and Teodor paused. "Dapple, the salad," he directed. "Chelm and Xe are both acknowledged tempus experts; Chelm a grandmaster in his own right, and Xe might have been one, if he could spare the effort from his other myriad accomplishments."

"I have some expertise myself," Prince Noroma said.

"Then can any of you imagine a way for someone to be attacked through their sense of time?"

There was a deep silence for a moment.

Noroma looked puzzled. "I am not certain what you mean. Might you ... expand on that?"

"Ruus Lord Chimes has, as far as Lord Doze and I can determine, been attacked through his percipience, in a way that is ... linked to his sense of time," Teodor said. "It was simply disrupting his percipience, but ... now it is actively making him ill. I'm not sure how long this has been happening; Ruus himself noticed a worsening several days ago - the day before you arrived, Noro, in fact, and it continued. He nearly became ill during the ceremony, but ..." and Teodor shook his head disapprovingly. "He didn't think to mention this to anyone. It didn't even come up until today, when ... I'm not sure if it was coincidence or percipience, but the matter came to Lord Doze's attention. We - Sasha and I - spent the afternoon attempting to figure out just what was happening, and I can safely say we're both baffled. Something is actively suppressing or interfering with Lord Chime's percipience, but whatever it be, it doesn't appear to be magic."

"I'm ..." Chelm started, and then he paused. "So you posit this is a tempus effect?"

Teodor looked uncomfortable. "Yes, and no. I think it's fairer to say we don't really know what it is, but we're relatively certain it isn't magic of any sort - between the three of us, Ruus, Sasha, and I, we hold affinity to all the magic we know of, and none of us sensed any magic in play. So, given that it involves the sense of time - we conjecture, only, that this is some tempus phenomenon. We have no reason to think it, but it seems like the next most likely explanation. When Sasha - ah, Lord Doze, shielded Lord Chimes' sense of time, his percipience returned, but that shielding caused Lord Doze considerable distress," said Teodor. "And strangely, that distress was not magic, but ... well. As I said, it was a baffling and unproductive afternoon. The two of us experimented further with Lord Chimes, but ... we weren't able to find a way to shield him without exposing Lord Doze. I'm afraid I was unable to shield him at all, it doesn't seem to be within my purview. But the effect was absolutely related to his sense of time, and tempus." Teodor smiled briefly. "As I have such a phenomenal collection of tempus expertise before me - I thought I would put it to the three of you. Sasha and I are, I think I may say safely, well-accomplished in the mental arts, but tempus is ... not familiar territory, and certainly not something this, ah, obscure."

"I ... I have not heard anything like it," said Xavien thoughtfully. "I will consider it, but ... hmmm. One might disrupt someone's sense of time if one were present, but ... at any kind of distance beyond, say, a few feet? I just don't see how it could be done, and what I'm thinking of would be both obvious as to source and require one's full concentration to achieve. Chelm?"

"No, but I wonder if perhaps we might experiment with tempus and see how that affects Ruus," Chelm said. "Or - I beg your forgiveness, Father - it is doubtful that either Father or Sasha has Xavien's exquisite sensitivity to time."

"Or yours," Xavien said dryly.

"Or mine," acknowledged Chelm. "And ... neither of you are earth-affined; that might be relevant." The dark red minotaur considered briefly. "I know that both Lord Doze and Lord Chimes have many calls on their time; I scarcely wish to waste it, but ... if Lord Doze could make himself available for a few moments to demonstrate his shielding?"

"I ... I have no idea," Teodor said. "I barely know my own schedule these days. Speak with my secretary; Zachiah will determine what's possible." The gray minotaur turned to Noroma with a sigh. "Noro?"

"It seems perplexing indeed," Noroma said, shaking his head. "I will think about it, but I fear I have no insights to share on this."

Teodor sighed again. "Although I am disappointed, I am not surprised. Still ... in fact, Chelm, I know you're still learning from Lord Xavien."

"Yes," said Chelm after a moment.

"I cannot spare him from this little errand, but ... I think I can match you with Lord Chimes, for a short time," Teodor said. "Perhaps if you are in proximity to Lord Chimes, you can determine what is happening to him. If Lord Xavien agrees that is wise, and that he can spare you ..."

"For a short time, yes," said Xe said, and then turned to stare at the younger roan for a moment. "I can safely say I am pleased with his progress. There are any number of matters I still have to instruct him on, but ... he learns quickly, and his understanding is ..." and Xavien paused. "Well. Suffice it to say that in terms of sheer ability, he is most certainly your son." The ebon bull gave a short nod to Teodor.

"Flattering," said Teodor. "Although, I hope you have a favorable impression of him, despite any intellectual resemblance to me."

Xavien chuckled. "I do."

"Thank you," said Chelm. "Father? Do you have any update from General Osaze about ... tonight?"

Teodor's gaze lost its focus for a moment before it snapped back to Chelm. "Oz is still talking to General Yasutoshi, who is ... not enamored of this plan."

"Is he not," said Noroma, a soft tone hinting at his displeasure. "I would be happy to have a word with him, if you would send him in."

"In?" asked Teodor blankly.

"The General placed himself on guard outside your door tonight ..." Noro paused. "You don't have a sense of where someone is when you're ... talking to him?" The indigo bull lifted a hand. "I've always been curious as to what thought transference entailed. There's really very little lore about it, and we rarely have mages at the Court."

"Oh? Is that a goal or a consequence?"

"Consequence," said Noroma after a moment. "But ... may I ask? I don't wish to be intrusive."

"Please ask, and should you verge on something we do not wish to discuss, we shall simply say so," Xavien said. "But this is a fine opportunity, if you're curious. Lord Teodor's expertise in the magics of air and water are broad and deep, and I can offer some assistance in the magics of earth."

"Lord Xavien is modest," said Teodor. "His expertise in his affinities at least equals mine and may well be superior. Regardless, you do have the advantage of experts."

"I have read about - and experienced - the far-talking spell," Noro said. "But I've only heard vague descriptions of the air variant."

"I would not call it a variant," said Teodor. "It works entirely differently. There is some similarity in the outcome, but the actual technique is completely unrelated. It is a method of thought transference; and it varies according to the talents of the mage in question. It does not have the reach of the far-talking spell - Lord Xavien can bespeak someone across a border, if he choose. A mentalist is limited ... Lord Doze, who has the greatest range I am aware of, can reach perhaps a mile, or just under. I have a third of that range, myself. With a non-mage, I can exchange subverbalized thoughts; those sentences one speaks in one's mind, only."

"I had heard that a mentalist could go deeper than that."

"Some can," said Teodor. "I can, if I am in physical contact with another. It still requires great concentration and focus, and I find it tiring. Lord Doze, on the other hand, need only be in the room."

"So for you, it is similar - in outcome, I understand - to the far-talking spell."

"Mostly," said Teodor. "It is possible to exchange more information and context with another mind-mage."

"How does that work?" asked Noroma, sounding interested.

Teodor blinked. "It's ... hard to describe. One simply ..." he paused. "Or not so simply, really. One transfers more than simple concepts, larger and more complex ideas ... and that is made possible by the other's mind-magic as well. I am sorry," the gray minotaur sighed. "Here I'd offered to explain, and your very first question tangles me in words that are neither descriptive nor explanatory."

"The higher tempus techniques are often like that," Noroma said. "Would you agree, Chelm?"

"Yes," Chelm said, taking a sip of wine. "I would agree."

"Most grandmasters ... either invent, or reinvent, some grandmaster technique as their ... badge of office," Noroma continued. "At least, so it is in Nippon."

"That is one way to demand the accolade, yes," said Chelm.

"Did you do so?"

"Do you mean, have I invented something? Or, was my invention the reason for my elevation?" Chelm said. "Because the answer is yes, and no, respectively. A grandmaster is a grandmaster because the other grandmasters acknowledge him so. Clear mastery of a grandmaster technique is certainly one way to gain that."

"No?"

Chelm shrugged. "A grandmaster decided to test me to see if I could function at what he considered a grandmaster level, and when I did, informed me of my new status. I found it anticlimactic, although the subsequent invitation to join Lord Chime's guard was, ah, impossible to refuse."

"But you have redeveloped some lost ability?"

"Perhaps," said Chelm. "I've never heard of anyone with this skill before, but then that may well be lack of knowledge."

"You ... have a new ability?"

"It is new to me," Chelm said. "I do not know if it requires a grandmaster; I am working with Milos to see if he can learn it."

"Milos ..." said Noroma slowly. "I beg your forgiveness; it sounds as if I should know who this is?"

"Milos is Lord Doze's Master of Time," Teodor said briskly. "He is considered one of the most skilled tempus users in Lycaili. Regrettably his native ability does not match his skill, and he is thus a Master, not Grandmaster." The gray bull picked up his wineglass, and took a sip. "Or so I am told. I am not a tempus expert myself, and doubt I can rightly judge. All I know is that Milos is far, far better than I am."

"That is ... well. In Nippon, such an one would have been encouraged to focus his efforts elsewhere."

"I am sure he was," Teodor said. "Nevertheless, in Lycaili, we also encourage bulls to pursue their passions."

"I would like to meet this Milos," said Noroma. "If ..."

Teodor nodded, paused, and then sighed. "I do count Sasha among my close friends, and he would not have been out of place here -"

"I wondered at his absence," Xavien commented.

"I had asked him, but, ah, events intervened," Teodor said. "In any case, Lord Doze and his Master of Time are consulting with each other at the moment, quite closely, and I have no wish to interrupt them. Again."

"They are together?" asked Noroma.

"They have not said so officially," Teodor said. "but for practical matters, I consider them so. I certainly do not wish to impose overmuch on their time."

"I see, but ... would not Milos have accompanied Lord Doze?"

"Yes, but ... it's simpler when business is business. In any case, they will both continue to be available for several days, although Lord Doze will be heading to Mog Ford in a bit."

"Where you are treating ..." and Noroma fell silent. "I beg your forgiveness, that touches official matters too closely for a private family dinner."

"Yes," said Teodor, "I suppose it does, and yet, at a private family dinner I daresay we can relax our official and formal personae a bit. There is nothing to forgive."

"You are kind," Noroma said. "But ... some other topic, perhaps ... has your General finished his discussion with mine?"

"Ah ..." said Teodor, and then, a moment later, "yes and no. General Osaze is now explaining to General Yasutoshi why it would be imprudent to close the streets and corridors, difficult to cordon off the amphitheater, suspicious to turn away the audience, and in general, peculiar - to say the least - to request the owners to submit to a full search by the Imperial Household Guard."

"Weaponry is not permitted at the meets," Chelm volunteered, "and those who take formal offense during a meet are subject to an owner's council in lieu of a duel."

"Dueling is common in Lycaili?"

"Uncommon, I would say," answered Chelm. "But it remains an option, and ... this wrestling is a proxy competitive sport. Owners are protective of their wrestlers, and occasionally ... over-identify with their victories."

"Or loss?" asked Noroma.

"I would never say such a thing," Chelm demurred. "But ... I cannot deny it. Some of the side-wagers among owners are not limited to financial remuneration alone."

"In short," Xavien said to Noroma, leaning a little forward for emphasis, "yes." The huge ebon bull leaned back, and smiled. "I think it's a good thing, though. I find it relieves tensions, builds camaraderie among the younger warriors, and certainly reduces friction."

"Does it?" said Teodor, sounding surprised. "That is entirely news to me!"

"You," Xavien said with a great deal of deliberation, "Lord Teodor, are a reclusive hermit who considers a gathering of six bulls to be an unmanageable crowd."

Noroma permitted himself to look surprised, but all Teodor did was to nod. "That is not without some truth," Teodor admitted, and turned to Noroma. "As a mentalist, I am far more an empath; the mentalities of others can be a painful and difficult experience. In larger groups, I maintain shields, but even that is wearing."

"Then how will you ... but if Lord Xavien will be suppressing your signature ... I had assumed that was so you could provide an illusion to cover us? But that is not right?"

"I will provide the disguise - with Chelm's assistance," Xavien said. "It is not an illusion; I will modify the colors of our pelts. I shall be pristine for the evening. Trust me, I have done this before. Only those who know you intimately might see through the deception, and then, only if they focus on you."

"It's a real change?" asked Noroma.

"Real, yes. Not lasting. If I did not reverse it, your pelt would revert to its natural color regardless in a few months. It doesn't alter you, simply your hair and skin." The ebon bull pondered for a moment. "I think your skin would change back in a matter of days. Perhaps I should experiment."

"I thought you were leaving on an errand?" Chelm pointed out. "An errand to which I was disinvited?"

"Ah ... yes, yes, that is so," said Xavien apologetically. "Some other time."

"Perhaps," said Chelm.

"I have not yet introduced Chelm to this sort of working, and I propose to use this as a demonstration for him," Xavien said. "But it will take some time for Chelm to recover."

"Yes ..." said Chelm, looking a little resigned. "Father, might I have use of a guest suite?"

"Of course," said Teodor. "The Pelican Suite? Or is that too pink?"

"Those rooms are indeed astoundingly pink," Chelm said, "but it's just down the hall, and it will be fine. Might Dapple show Leopard to the Pelican Suite?"

"Of course," said Teodor again, gesturing to the large, quiet minotaur who nodded obediently, and led Leopard off. "I would be honored if you would allow me to look after Zebra for the interlude?"

"There are few hands I would trust with him, and it is gracious of you to offer them," Chelm said. "Zebra, wait on my father."

Noroma watched with interest as the elaborately-tattooed human quietly unfolded himself from his kneeling position, stepped over to Teodor, and then knelt with nearly the same reverence he'd given to Chelm. "Those tattoos are ... strikingly gorgeous," he said. "They are every bit as fine as the bearer."

"Thank you, Noro."

"They are a mark of favor?"

"Very much so," Chelm said. "As are Leopard's."

"His do not appear to be so complete."

"Leopard is a much more recent acquisition; I have every anticipation that he will merit marks as extensive as Zebra's," Chelm said.

"I know I've never seen that much Ungoliant Black on any human, much less two. I was under the impression that it was never available in such quantities ..." Noroma continued.

"It is not Ungoliant Black," Chelm said, "although I quite understand why you mistake it. You're entirely correct about the difficulty in procuring it; that is why I developed my own tattoo ink. Or ink process, I should say. Both Zebra and Leopard are wearing my ink. My apprenticeship has curtailed my production - temporarily - but I have every hope of one day supplying Lycaili Black, and ... one or two other colors."

"You have ... well, if you say you have you have," said Noroma. "I am ... surprised, and I suppose I should not be. What other colors? I don't suppose you have a Lycaili Indigo? It would be just the thing to surprise my Imperial Father with."

"Indigo ..." breathed Chelm for a moment. "Yes. I have a blue I'm almost pleased with, a fine red, a green, and a white, but I ... I beg your forgiveness. I do not have an iridescent indigo, and as I said, my experiments have given way to my instruction. I intend to resume them, but ... I suspect it will be some decades hence."

"I cannot imagine a single thing to forgive," Noroma said. "It was just a passing thought, and ... it might well come as better present from you to His Imperial Majesty than from me. But if you could supply such a thing, it would please him well."

"Well," said Chelm. "My time is not my own, but it would be an interesting project."

"And so, to choices," said Xavien. "I, as I said, shall be pristine. Chelm ... or, no, what am I saying? Chelm has no need of an incognito," and Chelm nodded.

"Brown," Teodor said after a moment of thought.

"What?" Xavien said. "Lord Teodor, you cannot ..." and then paused, and took a deep breath. "Lord Teodor, I would suggest or."

"I'm small," said Teodor unconcernedly. "Even for or, I'd be small. But I could easily pass as ..."

"I cannot do such a thing!"

Teodor looked at Xavien. "You can, you know. And what precisely is wrong with brown?"

"Appearing incognito is one thing, but ..." Xavien shook his head. "Brown? Nothing is wrong with brown, any more than anything is wrong with human, but it's hardly a fit disguise for you!"

"Would you say that if Sasha and Milos were in the room?"

Xavien took a deep breath. "That is a most offensive question, and you know the answer. Yes, I would."

"You are right," said Teodor. "And I beg your forgiveness for suggesting otherwise."

"Well," said Xavien after a moment. "I suppose I might phrase it more circumspectly."

"I suppose you would."

"But Sasha and Milos are ... remarkable."

"Milos is remarkable, certainly," said Teodor. "But Sasha was an overseer on a farm."

"He is warror-trained," said Xavien dismissively.

"Is he?" asked Teodor.

Xavien looked askance at Teodor. "I don't understand your question."

"In point of fact, Sasha was graduated with the understanding he would not take warlord training. He did not pass."

Xavien said nothing for a long, long, moment, and then, "Disturbing. But ... Te? Is this the right place to ... discuss this?"

"You mean, in front of His Imperial Highness."

"Among others, yes."

"Please," broke in Noroma. "I understand these are sensitive matters, and perhaps we should go no further into them."

"You misunderstand," said Xavien. "Teodor brought this up because you are here."

"Yes," said Teodor, agreeably.

"Because ..." and the ebon bull stopped mid-explanation. "Actually I can't think of a good reason for it. I'm sure Te has one, though."

"Yes," said Teodor again in the same tone.

"A reason, that is," said Xavien. "I withhold judgment on the good part."

Teodor said, "I suppose we'll find out, sooner or later."

Noroma looked at Teodor, and then nodded. "I see."

"You do?" asked Xavien. "Chelm ... do you understand this? Am I the only person baffled?"

"Yes," said Chelm tersely.

The ebon bull looked around the table. "Might I impose on one of you to explain to an old, slow bull?"

Noroma took a breath, and said, "I took it as an oblique warning that Lycaili remains ... committed to his ideals."

"Warning is perhaps a little harsh," commented Teodor.

"I beg your forgiveness, father, but you wield subtlety like a maul," Chelm said.

"Yes," Xavien said, in the same agreeable tone Teodor had used earlier. "Exactly that."

"I should leave diplomacy to diplomats, then?" asked Teodor.

"To the extent possible - yes," said Xavien.

"I agree, Father."

"It would be indelicate to ask Noro, so - very well. Xe, I defer to your judgment in picking an incognito," said Teodor. "Surprise me, if you would."

"Hmm," said Xavien. "As you wish. Noro?"

"Ah - have the generals settled their security arrangements?"

Teodor's gaze flickered to the door. "Almost."

"Send General Yasutoshi in," and then Noroma added, "please."

Teodor simply nodded, and a few moments later, the door opened, and the violet bull entered. "Your Highness ..."

"I know," said Noroma. "I know everything you're going to say. I have considered it, I have considered both the situation and consequences, and I have decided. You will accept whatever measures General Osaze considers sufficient for this excursion."

"Yes, Your Highness." The general waited for a moment, and then continued. "Your Imperial Highness."

"Yes, General?"

"Does this excursion, in your opinion, advance your mission here?" Yasutoshi looked up at his prince. "I must answer to His Imperial Majesty for your safety, Highness."

"It does, significantly so."

"Very well, Your Highness. I submit myself."

"Chelm," said Noroma, "we'll be leaving soon?"

"In about fifteen minutes after Lord - after Xe completes our disguises," Chelm said, his gaze on General Yasutoshi, who had retreated to the now-open door. "Perhaps the General should stay for that?"

"Yes," said Teodor. "Oz? Could you step in as well? Xe, could you ..."

"It lacks only His Highness' decision as to guise, although I would suggest pristine or ebon."

"Pristine, if you please. I would wonder what I look like with a lighter coat. And ... I must admit I look forward to seeing this magery."

Xavien sighed. "I beg your forgiveness, Noro, but there is little to see. Ritual magic to accomplish this would take several hours, and be an enjoyable spectacle, but ... for magery ... Chelm, prepare yourself."

"I am ready, Xavien."

"It is simply ... " said Xavien, as the ebon bull's inky color faded and a shining white replaced it. Noroma looked on as the deep color of his own pelt turned to a platinum white. Teodor's dull gray pelt seemed to glimmer as it darkened to a dull, matte brown. "A moment's work. Chelm, did you follow the magic?"

"Closely," said Chelm, his voice tense. "It was most clever. Father, I beg your ..."

"Go," said Teodor. "Go!"

Chelm rose, and walked quickly out of the room, deeper into the suite, and Xavien rose to follow him. "We will be back shortly," the now-pristine bull said.

"Of course," said Teodor. "Take what time you require."

Xavien nodded as he followed in Chelm's direction.

"I ... is that the notorious lens euphoria?" asked Noroma.

"Hardly," said Teodor absently. "Euphoria is a euphemistic term for something much more ..." and then he paused, and smiled. "A matter for discussion among mages, I suppose. Something like the Imperial Court in that regard?"

"Ah," said Noroma. "I certainly don't wish to impose on private matters."