I, Dacien

A Story by Onyx Tao

© 2015 Onyx Tao

I, Dacien by [Onyx Tao](onyx-tao.sofurry.com) 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](onyx-tao.sofurry.com).

Chapter Thirty: Collaboration

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Xavien woke in the middle of the night to the unhappy whimpering of Dog, much as he had every night since Lathe had been killed. The ebon minotaur sighed, and stroked Dog, soothingly. Xavien had considered simply not telling Dog what had happened, just that Lathe had gone away, but Xavien had decided that it was simply too likely that Dog would find out, regardless. Merely having Lathe disappear might well have triggered Dog's insecurities. After a bit, Dog settled, curling up against the minotaur. The night was warm enough that Xavien had settled on the bedroll without even a sheet, and the ebon minotaur simply enjoyed the quiet of the night.

Quiet … Xavien extended his senses out through the camp. Breaker and Waiter were sleeping, and beyond them were the entirety of his guard, and the additional guards that Teodor had sent along with him – fifty warlords, two of whom were Grandmasters, and those of the rest who weren't tempus masters were at least tempus adepts. Not, Xavien thought glumly, a typical diplomatic entourage, although of course he did have the not-quite-fiction of the missive to Emperor Oto. Venrir had accepted what Xavien considered a threadbare excuse for the military force, but the border guards at Leviathan had taken one look at the group, and requested that they wait for an escort into the Leviathan Maze. A far more sensible attitude, Xavien thought despite the eminent inconvenience of having to make camp just outside the Leviathan border.

And … Xavien's thought paused at the border itself. It didn't look like much, but it was a thick, darkly translucent wall to his perceptions. There were … bulls there, the four border guards, and beyond them, more bulls had arrived. Perhaps twenty. If they'd been still, Xavien might have gotten a good count but between the dark muzziness of the border andd their movements, as they set up tents, or made breakfast, or did drills muddled the trails and after a few moments Xavien gave it up as unproductive. Almost certainly the reinforcements which the guard had sent for, and that meant they could enter Leviathan, deliver the letter, and … see about Dacien.

Or, alternately, this was force intended to keep them out of Leviathan. In which case … there would be other problems.

Or, alternately, this was a Scyllan force. In which case, Xavien would exterminate it.

Or, alternately, it was something else. In which case … Xavien's thoughts paused. Hard to plan for the unknown, but one could, of course, account for the possibility. He rose silently, and wove a spell through Breaker to clean himself and his two lenses. They would need care, of course. “Stacy, please see to Breaker and Dog. I am going to greet what I presume is to be our escort."

* * *

Xavien wondered about the reasoning behind Leviathan's escort all the way into the Leviathan Maze. Why? What could it accomplish? Fifty bulls were far too many to be an honor guard, and too ineffective to be anything else. There was no mage with it, not even a grandmaster, although Xavien was grateful to be spared having to be polite, however temporarily, to the faux-Grandmaster Wolachya. No doubt Wolachya feared a mage's ability to sense truth and falsehood, and had declined on that basis, if he'd even been asked. Or perhaps he was caught up in the search for Mage Dacien … too many possibilities, Xavien thought heavily. So why did they seem like so many _im_possibilities?

Everything seemed … so out of kilter. The rhythms of the days, broken. Where had it started? And why? And how had he … been so mistaken? So many times?

How could he, Xavien, have gone so wrong? Where had it gone wrong? Some of it, he knew, some of it was not entirely his fault. He could scarcely realize his emotional control was damaged since Cresphontes had ordered Sasha to reinforce his control without bothering to mention that to Xavien. That, that was where it had started. Then Sasha had been gone when Cresphontes was assassinated, and he had had to pick up the reins, temporarily. That had undone whatever Sasha had done – Xavien had tried to understand it, but he suspected that only another air mage would or could – and all Xavien had been able to think to do was take a mild sedative, to help him sleep.

Except that the mild sedative had morphed to a strong sedative. And it had helped settle his thoughts during the day, as well, and … I should have seen it. That still wasn't the worst part, to Xavien's mind. He, Xavien, might not have seen it, but Ruus had. General Zachiah had. And they hadn't confronted him, hadn't helped him, hadn't solved the problem – and an incompetent Regent was a very great problem indeed – they'd just hidden the problem. Even when he started to wonder himself …

It had taken Teodor less than fifteen minutes to see the problem and take action to resolve it. Or attempt to, anyway. Gentle, kind, soft, he'd always thought of Teodor as soft, soft Teodor had moved to deal with it as soon as the roan bull had understood it.

Even a week ago, Xavien might have rejected the now-inevitable conclusion. Teodor had been the right choice of Patriarch. Xavien had been chafing under the decision ever since he permitted it to be made; he'd argued against it as General and as Regent, but … after some deep introspection, had decided not to use his position as mage to block it. He'd had his chance, been overruled by the Council of Generals, and even the other mages present at Lycaili. But even so, he could have blocked it. At the time, he'd wondered if that refusal was just so much cowardice, and yet, when all the other bulls – good bulls, reliable, whose judgment he'd always respected, told him he was wrong … he'd finally decided not to take advantage of the unique circumstances that would have permitted him to prevent Teodor's ascension, simply because he was needed to fulfill the quorum of the Mage's Circle.

But now, Xavien wondered. Had he known even then that Teodor was a good choice? Refused to admit it, but somewhere in the depths of his mind, been unable to stand in his way? Or was it merely good fortune? Xavien had been punctilious about supporting his new Patriarch, of course. He gave Teodor the best advice he could, wincing as the roan considered and – usually – took some other course of action. That had been galling, supporting the ridiculous, absurd, preposterous policies, the baffling statements, and yet, and yet, and yet …

Teodor had been right.

Today, here and now, he could no longer pretend the impossible conclusion that Teodor was the right choice of Patriarch was at all an impossible conclusion. It was simply the conclusion. It pleased him, though, that even looking back, even taking apart his decisions and advice – his wrong advice – from his new position of approval that Xavien could nowhere fault his own unstinting support of Patriarch Teodor.

His honor had carried him through, even when he'd failed. He'd stuck to honor, his understanding of it, and that, and only that, let him look back on his mistakes with anything approaching equanimity. He might have been led astray, he might have let his own foolishness blind him, but honor … honor had saved him.

It hadn't saved Lathe. Xavien's self-control trembled, just for a moment. He still reached out mentally for Lathe, still expected to find him, his self and being and essence responding to Xavien's power, without thinking. He'd lost other lenses, of course, through the years, but never so suddenly. Xavien had felt them dim, and fade, and finally perish as the magic holding their strength and youth failed. It had hurt, always, and the somber formalities as he stored their remains, for the day they could join his own on his funeral pyre, had only partially soothed him. But it had never felt like … like … an amputation. Not like this did. The ache of an open wound, the sense of something missing when he worked magic, the unsettling stumble as he reached for Lathe without result.

It would get better, Xavien told himself. He'd suffered losses, and they'd all gotten better.

He tried not to consider that, maybe, he'd just gotten better at bearing pain.

* * *

Xavien paused at the stairs leading up to the Mosuran Consulate in Leviathan Maze, surrounded in what seemed like a sea of warriors. He had his own twenty guards, of course, and Lord Teodor had sent along an additional fifty Patriarch's Guard in addition to the eighteen Mage Council guards who served as Dacien's private guard. The Lycaili soldiery were in turn surrounded by Leviathan soldiery, a good hundred Leviathan warriors. Some of them looked to Patriarch Nahor, but Xavien picked out at least four other liveries he did not recognize in addition to the two he did. For some reason, three of Lord Tarragon's guard were present even though Xavien did not sense the Leviathan mage nearby. No mages, in fact, as far as Xavien could tell.

Not that this was an occasion for magery. He was here as Lord Xavien, Regent of Lycaili, to deliver a private letter from his Master, Patriarch Teodor, to the Nippon Emperor.

Lord Xavien held the sealed parchment envelope in his hands, and walked calmly up the stairs, toward the Consul, who waited with his own staff. He reached the fifth and final step, paused for a moment, and said, “My Lord Consul of Mosura, and Consular Ordinary of His Imperial Majesty, I present a message to His Imperial Majesty from my Master, Teodor, Patriarch of Lycaili." Xavien drew another breath. “It is personal, and my Master commanded me to give it directly into the Imperial Hand."

“My Lord Regent," replied the Consul. “In the name of my Imperial Master, I greet you. My Master has empowered me to accept missives for the Imperial Hand, and in His name, I can accept your Master's message, if that will satisfy your Master's terms. I will convey it immediately to His Imperial Majesty by the fastest means possible."

“Then I fulfill my commission," Xavien responded, and handed the sealed letter to the Consul.

“And I accept mine," the Consul said as he took it. “Your long journey must leave you in want of refreshment. I have a small meal ready for you."

“That is kindness, and gratefully accepted," Xavien said, and added, “Perhaps we could talk."

“Yes," the Consul said. “I would like that." He glanced uncertainly at the host of minotaur warriors. Formality required refreshment, but Xavien could see him wondering how best to provide it. “I could send tea to your guard?" he asked.

Minimal, but sufficient, and Xavien hardly expected him to host over a hundred warriors of Lycaili and Leviathan who had arrived without warning. “Yes," said Xavien, glancing at his own Master of Guard, Havel. “There are, I fear, more of us than should presume on your hospitality."

“I fear they wouldn't fit in my consulate," sighed Eo. “But, of course you must bring some. Will five be sufficient?"

“I declare myself satisfied with the Emperor's protection; I shall leave all my guard outside," Xavien said gravely. “If that meets with your approval?"

The consular bowed low. “All four of the Imperial Guard here will give their lives to defend you, Lord Xavien." Meaning, of course, that Eo considered his guard too few for true security.

“Between my Guards and the Leviathan warriors, I have no fears," Xavien said, in his best attempt at diplomacy.

Consular Ordinary Eo Jin Mosura showed Xavien into a tiny sitting room just off the entrance. The wallpapers were a myriad of deep blues, forming a complex geometric dance of multicolored waves in all the tones of the ocean at twilight. The single Imperial Guard took a position by the sideboard, and Eo bowed again as he offered Xavien one of the three chairs.

At least the stuffed chair was comfortable, Xavien thought, as he and the Consular went through the formal dance of preparing and pouring tea, and Xavien waited, making the proper responses, inhaling the fragrant steam in the parchment-thin porcelain cup. Fine circles in blue, red, and green glaze circled the cup, diverting around a surprisingly realistic golden Imperial Lotus. Xavien considered the acceptable topics at this point of the conversation, and opened with “These are very fine. No doubt the tea is as fine as the cup, and I am looking forward to it."

Eo nodded. “It is from the Imperial gardens," he said. “The tea, of course. The cups are made by Guildmaster Ru Ronkko Oodaku." His smile slipped just a fraction. “They are surprisingly delicate," he said ruefully as he took a sip of his own tea.

“I notice they are not reinforced," said Xavien. “Forgive my ignorance. Is that an aesthetic choice?"

Eo paused, the cup halfway to his mouth. “No," he said. “Can that be done?"

“Certainly," Xavien said, considering. “Probably less than an hour of magic," he said. “You're only making a small change, and there are some similar rituals that …" He nodded. “An hour at the outside."

“You don't know of a ritual to do it, then?"

“No," said Xavien. “Any master magician should be able to work something out, though … or, if you'll permit, I could supply magework that would do the same – that would take no time at all."

“I couldn't impose," Eo said. “It is more than kind enough that you offer such a welcome thing."

“It is not an imposition," Xavien said. “May I?"

“I … I have no way to properly thank you," Eo said. “But …"

Xavien gave a short smile as he quietly worked the spell on the cups and the teapot – and then extended it to the three other cups nestled in a velvet carrier inside the sideboard. “Then you needn't trouble yourself to bother," the mage said. “It is done; truly, hardly worth mentioning."

“It seems like a very large thing to me," Consular Eo said. “Thank you, Lord Xavien, on my behalf, and that of my Imperial Master."

“I am pleased to have been of some assistance …" Xavien said. “There can never be sufficient beauty in our lives, and these are … truly a pleasure for the eyes."

“Thank you," the Consular said.

Xavien reached into his pocket, and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. “It occurs to me that your life would be easier, somewhat, if you had some idea of what might be happening."

“Oh?"

“Are you aware of His Imperial Highness' offer to Lord Teodor?"

“Yes," the Consular said. “I am. This is Lord Teodor's response?"

“So I believe," Xavien said. “To the best of my knowledge, this is the message Lord Teodor has sent to His Imperial Majesty," handing Eo the folded paper. “I thought it might be helpful if everyone knows what … might be happening."

“To the best …"

“Lord Teodor drafted the message himself; but was kind enough to share his intent, and directed that the general contents be made known to you. He does not wish to surprise anyone; there is no reason for secrecy." Xavien gestured to the paper in Consular Eo's hand. “In fact, it might be useful if you were to glance at it now."

“It … yes, of course," and he looked at it for a moment. “I admit I was very curious as to whether ..." and then he paused. “Simply an invitation to his Serenity?"

“So I am given to understand," Xavien said. “He wishes to meet His Serenity first, to allow His Serenity to form his own opinion."

“I see," Consular Eo said, diplomatically. “That is … well. I was about to say that nobody could have expected such a thing, and yet, Lord Xavien, I must ask a favor. I would be remiss in my service to my Imperial Master if I did not ask you to stay until a little past sundown."

Xavien tilted his head. “Really."

“Yes," Eo said. “I cannot say more, but … I would ask you to stay." He brightened for a moment. “I might add, apropos to nothing in particular, of course, that although my Imperial Master is in the Imperial Court, and many days away, that I typically take my instructions in His behalf from His Imperial Majesty's Ambassador in Mosura Labyrinth."

And of course there was no border between Mosura and Leviathan, just the Blue Seas between them. Xavien nodded. “I suppose you receive instruction … regularly?"

“From my Master, Patriarch Bohr Taiki," the Consular agreed. “But … you will stay? May I offer you a room?"

“Perhaps," said Xavien. “I do have another errand, and it is … something I am eager to attend to," he smiled. “I could contact one of the Mosuran mages for you? It would be Lord Luminant Frost, yes?"

“Yes, he is our Speaker," said Eo after a moment.

“Tumo? This is Xavien Lycaili. Might I have a moment?"

_ Xavien! How pleasant to hear from you! Let me settle one little matter, and I'll be right with you. Will that do? _

“Yes, of course. Thank you," Xavien said, and then turned back to Eo. “He'll be back to me in a moment." Xavien's gaze fell on his empty teacup.

“More tea?"

“Yes, please," Xavien said, as he settled back in his chair. It took two more cups of the fine liquor, drunk in small, appreciative sips, before Lord Luminant Frost replied to him.

_ Xavien! It's been so long. Please accept my condolences on the passing of your cousin. I know my Master has already sent his, but … _

“Thank you, Tumo. I'm with Consular Eo, in Leviathan, and … he has some information to pass along to you. And I think he may wish to consult with your Imperial Ambassador briefly. I would wait, but I am tasked to other things which … are better done sooner than later."

_ Always there is something to do, yes, I know that one well. I will see if Ambassodor Kazuo is available _ … A couple of minutes later, Tumo replied. _ The Ambassador has freed some time. Are you with the Consul now? _

“Yes, Consul Eo is with me."

_ Then I will speak between them now. _

A moment later. Eo looked up from his polite contemplation of his teacup. “I received a formal message to His Imperial Majesty from Patriarch Lycaili; Lord Xavien assures me that it represents an invitation to His Serenity to visit Lycaili. Under the circumstances …"

Eo was quiet as he waited for Lord Luminant Frost to speak with the Ambassador. His stance changed slightly as he listened to the reply.

“Yes, Tumo. Please thank His Excellence for me, and thank you!"

_ There, Xavien. Perhaps I'll see you soon. I _ would _ like that! _

“What?" Xavien said, but the sense of presence was gone.

Eo nodded. “Thank you, Lord Xavien, that … to come to the point, His Serenity departed Mosura Port yesterday."

Xavien stared at the Ambassador for a moment. He thought for a moment, considering the transit times. The Emperor must have sent Prince Lyo within a day of receiving Prince Noroma's offer. Which meant … could only mean … that Noroma made the offer himself, not the Emperor, but that the Emperor approved it … which meant …

Xavien wasn't sure what that meant, but he was certain that Teodor would draw some bizarre, outrageous and probably uncannily correct conclusion from the datum, once he had it.

“Then His Serenity is expected to arrive at Leviathan Port four days from now, seas forthcoming?" Xavien asked, just to make sure he had calculated the passage correctly.

Consul Eo nodded. “Yes. And … Lord Luminous Frost accompanied His Highness, earlier. Ocean travel is always risky, and my Master is disinclined to risk anyone of the Imperial Lineage."

“Lord Luminous Frost is with His Serenity," Xavien said.

“I have not been informed of that, but it would surprise me if he were not." Consul Eo gave Xavien a small smile. “It is most fortuitous, Lord Xavien, that you have arrived with such a suitable escort."

“I …" and now Xavien faltered. “Consul Eo, I … I must consult with General Osaze. We – My Master – did not – I did not expect – my instructions are strict, very strict, and I … I must beg your forgiveness."

“Your army cannot provide an escort for His Serenity?"

“It is not why we were dispatched," said Xavien. “Although … clearly, that would be good, very good …"

“There is some impediment?" Eo looked a little thoughtful. “But …"

“I would hope we can escort His Serenity," Xavien said. “But I must consult with General Osaze."

“Then … may I ask why you have brought so many troops into Leviathan?"

“I would rather you did not," Xavien said as politely as he could.

“I … understand your meaning, Lord Xavien, but I am confused. Your words imply that these warriors are not here purely as a symbolic gesture, and … this is an impressive concentration of force. Why, Lord Xavien, does your Master feel he needs such a concentration in Leviathan? Or … in this vicinity? I ask, Lord Xavien, for both my Masters."

“I do not have an explanation for you, Consul Eo."

“I find that alarming."

“I cannot find fault with your reasoning, but I would beg you to give some few moments to consult with General Osaze. My instructions do not permit discussing this matter – he has more leeway."

“I … Lord Xavien, how is it possible that the Master of Guard has more authority than the Ambassador?"

“If you would allow me to call in General Osaze, it is possible your questions will permit answers," said Xavien.

The Consul considered the ebon minotaur for a moment. “Lord Xavien, does Lord Teodor hold you in some distrust? I dislike bringing the matter up, but you were placed under arrest, at his command. It was a development much remarked upon, and very little explained."

“There is some secondary relevance," Xavien said. “I will explain it, if you will permit me to call …"

“Very well, Lord Xavien."

“Osaze, a small matter has come up. Would you be kind enough to join us?" Xavien asked, reaching out to the golden minotaur.

I will be in directly, Xe.

“Consul Eo," said General Osaze, seating himself, “you present me with difficult questions. At this time, I cannot answer them to your satisfaction. It is my belief, however, that lives are contingent on our actions. If your suspicions occur to … certain persons within Leviathan, then our task here will fail. I wish we could ask Patriarch Nahor's permission, but we dare not."

“That sounds … extraordinary," Consul Eo said. “You dare not? And … pardon me, but what lives are at stake?"

General Osaze considered for a moment. “If I tell you, it could put them further at risk. I will tell you, but only if you can pledge your silence until we have secured those lives."

“That is an extraordinary request," the Consul said. “I have no desire to endanger anyone. And yet you seem poised for military action inside lands belonging to another clan."

“That is not our intent, nor our plan, nor even our expectation. We expect to proceed peacefully, to rescue persons in danger without violence, and return to Lycaili," General Osaze said. “Lord Teodor sent us to forestall violence, not to provoke it, and especially not to begin it." He gave a brief smile. “Patriarch Nahor has settled a number of his own warriors around us, and I expect that their presence will prevent any attempt at violence whatsoever."

“Not all," corrected Xavien, breaking into the conversation. “I intend to issue a personal challenge."

“What?" said General Osaze, turning to stare at the ebon.

Xavien looked back blandly at him. “I have been mortally insulted, and I suspect I know who initiated that insult. I am within Leviathan's law to issue a challenge on those grounds," said Xavien. “And if I find my suspicions correct, I will kill him."

“A personal challenge within the law. Within the strict interpretation of the law," Consul Eo said, more asking than stating.

“Yes."

“Conducted entirely in accord with law and tradition – Leviathan's tradition?" the Consul pressed.

“Yes," Xavien repeated. “Assuming I am able to confront him within Leviathan."

“That is … your privilege, and I think it has no bearing, although … are you certain of this insult?" asked Eo.

“I could be wrong," Xavien said dryly. “I have lately become painfully familiar with that condition. Being incorrect, I mean. But I intend to confirm my suspicion first; I will not challenge an innocent. I am certain I have been insulted, yes. I have good cause to suspect a particular bull, and I will be astonished if he be innocent – but I will certainly establish guilt before I issue any challenge."

“As you say, then," said Eo, and he turned back to General Osaze. “Lord Xavien's personal complaint sounds within his rights and is no matter for the Emperor or Mosura. What you say, General Osaze, is very worrisome, but … it sounds as if your actions and intent are entirely within the law of Leviathan, even if they may provoke Leviathan."

“They may provoke Leviathan only indirectly, in that Patriarch Nahor can claim the better course would have been to bring this matter directly to him. But other than that, I do not believe our actions will offend against Leviathan in any way."

The Consul considered that statement carefully for a long moment. “Do you believe that, if I reported this conversation to my Masters at the soonest possible moment – later tonight, I think – that would put these lives you mentioned earlier at risk?"

“Probably not," said General Osaze, “although of course I would prefer you to wait. The danger I fear is that word would get to … persons in Leviathan prematurely. I do not care what is known in Mosura tonight; I fear what might be known in Leviathan tomorrow."

“I understand the parameters of your concern," said the Consul. “I will accommodate them as well as I may. Given your assurances, I see no need to speak with Patriarch Nahor about this – it is not Mosura's business, and you will make a full disclosure to him, I presume?"

“After the fact, but yes, without fail."

“I must make a report to my Masters."

“I prefer you would not, but I could not expect otherwise," said General Osaze.

“Given your assurances, and I will repeat them, I suspect my Masters will not wish to entangle themselves in the matter. Given that wish, I trust you will not entangle them? That is, that we had some warning of this can be passed over in your discussion with Patriarch Nahor?"

“That could make a most unpleasant conversation even less pleasant, but … yes. If our goals are preempted, however, I will consider myself free of that obligation."

“Most reasonable, and acceptable," said the Consul. “I am satisfied."

“Thank you, Consul Eo, on behalf of myself and my Master," said General Osaze.

“I am satisfied on that point," said the Consul. “There is another."

“Ah," said Xavien, stirring in his chair. “That would be … me?"

“Yes."

“It has no bearing," said General Osaze.

“General, I would prefer to handle this, if you will permit," said Xavien.

“Lord Xavien, there is no need …" started General Osaze.

“And yet it is my reputation," Xavien said. “Is it not?"

“It is," said the General, and he lifted a hand in acquiesance. “As you wish."

“I … you have piqued my curiosity," said Consul Eo.

“I fear you will not enjoy the story; it is no tangle of political machination but merely my own frailty," said Xavien.

“Lord Xavien …" started Osaze.

“No, I will not hide. I do not think I have acted dishonorably, only unfortunately. And even if I had acted dishonorably – what better penance than to admit it? You are aware, Consul, that I was Regent?"

“Of course," said Consul Eo.

Xavien nodded. “That was the error. I should not have been Regent. I have reached … a certain age, as they say, and my self-control is frayed. Badly frayed. I was unable to cope with the stresses of the Regency, Consul Eo. By the time I was arrested, at Lord Teodor's command, I was barely lucid. Teodor's arrest relieved me of all my duties, and gave me the time I needed to understand what had happened, and … to recover. It was welcome, Consul Eo, and I am deeply grateful for it, and Teodor's many, many acts of kindness to … one who had not, I think, earned such dispensations."

The Consul's face went completely blank. “I am sorry to hear that, Lord Xavien. I am glad you have recovered."

“I have not recovered, not fully, and may never do so," Xavien said, forcing himself to say it. “It was to protect me from the stress of command that my Master gave authority to General Osaze. He was right to do so."

“But why did he – why would he … why would you …"

“Send me in the first place?" said Xavien into the silence. “Why would I accept?"

“Yes."

“Because he had no choice. Lord Chimes is prescient."

“Lord Chimes sent you?"

“In effect," said Xavien. “Lord Chimes was insistent that I must go. Faced with percipience, what else could Lord Teodor do? What else could I do?"

The Consul was silent for a long, long time. “I understand," Eo said finally. “I … Lord Xavien, I am in awe of your courage in admitting this so frankly. I assure you, I will be discreet."

“Discreet …" said Xavien. “Well, for my part, Consul Eo, I do not wish that. I have examined my actions, and in every case, I am satisfied that, knowing what I knew, I behaved with honor, and would not – could not – have done otherwise. You see, Consul Eo, it was my cousin's decision to shield me that led to that disaster. Lord Cresphontes forbade me to know that my mental control was fading. And so, not knowing that my body had betrayed me, I took on the Regency. I will not conceal my condition. I will not fall into the same error twice. That would dishonor me."

The Consul nodded silently. “You are a great bull, Lord Xavien. I … I do not know I would have the strength to say such things. I am humbled. I beg your forgiveness for my suspicions."

“There is nothing to forgive," said Xavien. “After all, it may simply be a symptom of my impending mental collapse."

“I cannot believe that!" said Consul Eo.

“Lord Xavien!" General Osaze said barely a heartbeat later. “Is this a matter for levity?"

“If Lord Teodor can laugh at himself, surely I may claim the same privilege?"

* * *

Xavien was still smiling – to himself, of course, he let no hint of his amusement leak through to his countenance – when they arrived at the modest but pleasant estate of Guildmaster Iudas. The grounds, he thought, were nicely kept, with lovely trimmed thick-grown hedges, thriving beds of jasmine, and some truly exquisite beds of bola lilies in extravagant bloom, as well as a number of humans – gardeners, he thought fondly – scurrying out of the way as the huge group advanced on the house. He paused with General Osaze, who hadn't said anything to him since they left the Consulate, but … Xavien found himself unconcerned.

Completely unconcerned. Explaining what had happened to Consul Eo, admitting his fault – no, acknowledging his fault was like shedding some invisible weight that had crushed him. He had simply acted in accord with his honor, given the Consul the honesty honor demanded rather than trying to ignore or shield himself. He would have thought the confession would humiliate him – had expected to feel humiliated, had been ready for it, almost ready to embrace it as a fitting punishment.

But he didn't feel humiliated. And his joke … Teodor's self-deprecating humor, his little jests, as the gray minotaur was wont to call them, had always made Xavien feel off-balance, uncertain, unsure of himself. But … if this was how they affected Teodor … this … this … he didn't know how to categorize it, what to call it. Other than amazingly freeing, in some way that Xavien could not describe. I must laugh at myself more often, Xavien thought, and somehow, even that amused him too.

He wasn't sure what to say to General Osaze, though. The golden minotaur might be able to hide the tension in his stance, but Xavien could feel it, the tightness in every muscle, the deliberation under every movement.

“You will let me speak to the Guildmaster," Osaze said, quietly.

“Is that request or a command?" Xavien asked.

“It is … a request, Lord Xavien."

A request that could be a command, if needed, Xavien heard clearly. “Very well. I am not sure, however, that the Guildmaster has room for all of us."

“We can camp …" the General paused as mint-green minotaur came striding out the front door. “The Guildmaster?"

“I believe so," said Xavien cautiously. “Although it might be his cousin …"

“Welcome to my family's home," the green bull said, stopping a few feet from the advance party. His eyes glancing over the large troop of Lycaili and Leviathan warriors. I have refreshments … perhaps I could serve them outside? I fear you – all of you – will not be comfortable in my sitting room. It would be …" and he gave a rueful smile. “I am not sure we could fit all of them in, even standing."

“Do I have the honor of addressing Guildmaster Iudas, or Guildsenior Dellios?" asked General Osaze.

“I … I beg your forgiveness. I am Iudas, my cousin Guildsenior Dellios is elsewhere. I believe I recognize Lord Gree –" and the minotaur shook his head, abashed. “Forgiveness, Lord Xavien, I know. But you are …"

“I am General Osaze, Master of Guard to Patriarch Teodor Lycaili, here at your invitation, Guildmaster."

“I have expected you," Iudas said. “And cannot tell you how grateful I am that you have come."

“You are welcome and more than welcome. My Master bids me thank you. Nothing would be more refreshing, however, than to complete my errand."

“Of course," said Iudas. “And yet … I have pledged my honor in this matter."

“Yes, and my Master honors you for that."

“But I know none of you," Iudas said simply. “I do not know any of these guards in Leviathan livery, nor any of you, save, perhaps, Lord Xavien, and – I beg your forgiveness – but I know only that he appears to be Lord Xavien. I met him only twice, and we spent no time together."

“Once," Xavien said. “I met you once, at guild dinner. When did we meet again?"

“I … you are right, it was but once, Lord Xavien," Iudas said. “I beg your forgiveness for the misstatement."

“I see. Well, I do not hold it against you, and cannot fault your care," Xavien said, and his smile, if it didn't feel entirely natural, didn't feel forced, either. “But I am Xavien Alexander Lycaili," he said. “I would be delighted to present proof."

“I beg your forgiveness for my doubt, but …"

“I commend your doubts," Xavien said. “I put nothing past these brigands." He concentrated for a moment, reached down to the rock below the estate; granite. That would work. Low in iron, but … he could concentrate it somewhat, and … he pulled a few hundred tons of it up, up, into a column only a few feet thick but some two hundred and twenty feet high, just … there …

A glob of rock erupted out of the lawn, right in the center, and there was an eyeblink of movement as warriors stepped back, in tempus, weapons drawn. “No need," Xavien called blandly, and focused again, setting the form he wanted … the outcrop reshaped itself into a seven tiered fountain, with a huge bola lily at the top. Another thought hollowed pipes in the granite itself, to permit water to flow up and out of the top. It would need some tuning, though … Xavien pulled water from the clouds down, condensed it into a few hundred gallons, sent it coursing into the fountain as he reached out through Breaker (and missed Lathe yet again!). Using Breaker, he set another magic in place to keep the water flowing down into the internal piping, and back up to the top. Breaker gave out a moan as the magic roiled through him, but Xavien knew Stacy would take care of the human. Xavien trusted his Master of Slave would see to Breaker, so that he could, instead, attend to the subtle adjustments to the water flow. He wanted it to cascade from flowered tier to tier with a pleasant burbling, evenly, attractively, and that took some fine-tuning of the details. A pity there was no way to keep the water flowing without magic … he considered Breaker for a moment. Even this small magic came close to Breaker's limits, but the human could bear the spell safely for a time.

Lathe could have held it for hours, but Xavien resolutely pushed that painful remembrance from his mind.

Xavien finished by putting a perfect, magical finish on the scalloped stonework, embellishing it with embossed bola lilies interspersed with flowering jasmine vines, to match the surrounding garden. In a spark of whimsy, he added a tracery of gold to the lilies.

“I …"

“Before you say anything, if you dislike it, I will, of course, undertake to remove it."

“No, no, it's … marvelous, Lord Xavien," Iudas said. “I just didn't expect … so … quickly …"

“The water flowing in it is presently doing so because of magic; it will need a pump of some kind to drive the water flow."

“It will …" started out as a question, but firmed toward the finish of the word. “Yes, of course. I understand, Lord Xavien. I … I'm not sure …" he looked around. “But Del or I will think of something. Thank you. It is … very impressive. How … how much does it weigh?"

Xavien looked at it for a moment. “A great deal. It is not, in any sense, movable."

“But … won't it sink into the lawn?"

“No," said Xavien. “It is formed from a column of bedrock, which is why it cannot be moved."

Iudas looked at him quizzically, almost as if the green minotaur thought Xavien might be joking, and then nodded his understanding. “It is … it is marvelous, as I said, and I thank you, Lord Xavien."

The Master of their Leviathan escort, General Trevor Leviathan broke into the conversation. “Then, Guildmaster, you did invite these bulls, and were expecting them."

“Yes," the Guildmaster said. “I am afraid I do not know you, General."

“I understand your concern, and I vouch for him. His loyalty is to Leviathan, Guildmaster," said Xavien.

“I was unaware of any doubt in the matter," Trevor said stiffly. “What cause do you have to question me so? And, Guildmaster, by what right?"

“I beg your forgiveness, General Trevor," Iudas said. “But … well. It will be simpler to explain all at once. Lord Xavien, I expect you wish to see …"

“Yes," said Xavien. “I desire that very much. I have a courier waiting to run to Lord Teodor, to tell him what I find, and I greatly wish to dispatch him."

“This is entirely unorthodox," Trevor said. “What, precisely, is happening?"

“It will be simpler to explain afterward," Iudas said. “And delay serves nobody now. Please, Lord Xavien, General Trevor, General Osaze – please, come with me."

* * *

The underground retreat was everything the cousins had promised. Built to hold nearly a hundred humans and thirty minotaur, it was spacious for the thirteen of them – fourteen, if one counted Dellios' personal slave, Socks, as Dacien certainly did. Socks had been more than a little wide-eyed at the thought of serving thirteen minotaur as the sole human slave, but Dellios had taken the little human aside while Dacien and Bryant organized the rest of their little band. The ninja – they referred to themselves as commandos – were almost distressingly obedient, and even the pristine, Dusan, seemed to be almost as heavily conditioned. With what Dacien recognized as the inherent minotaur drive toward organization, Dellios and Bryant quickly organized the commandos into turning the space into a comfortable den, although there simply wasn't much for Dacien or Dusan to do.

Socks settled comfortably into serving the four of them, and that allowed Dacien to keep an eye on the untrained mage. Dellios seemed completely unaware of Sock's power, although it was clear he doted on the little human – who seemed just as entranced by Dellios. But from what Dacien remembered – or thought he remembered – humans with mage-powers became lenses.

Teodor had told him that. And then … a single mage-gifted human had become a mage, instead. He looked at Socks, calm and trusting beside Dellios, and tried to remember just what Socks reminded him of.

He didn't approach the jade-green minotaur until the fourth day, when Dellios – who insisted on being called 'Del' – had had his chance to question the commandos about their training and upbringing. Dellios had taken Socks aside for what the minotaur called training, rather euphemistically to Dacien's thinking. Both of them had returned mussed and smelling ever so faintly of sex. Socks looked exhaustedly happy and Dellios looked both pleased and very, very content.

“I don't wish to ask inappropriately," Dacien said quietly as Socks settled himself on Dellios's sleeping pad and prepared to nap. “But … I suppose I don't understand why you would call that training."

“Because it was training," Dellios said, equally softly, but calmly. “He is learning to achieve release without removing his restraint. And he's doing very, very well." His voice rose. “Sleep, Socks."

There was a quiet murmur that could have been “Yes, Master," but it might have just as easily been something else from the already half-asleep human. It was strange, but Dacien could easily tell the man's moods – that he was drowsing and slipping deeper into sleep – simply from the feel of the thick cloying magic spilling from him. But Socks wasn't all the way asleep, not yet, and Dacien wanted neither to interrupt his rest, nor reveal his mage-potential to him, so he sought for some other topic for a few moments of conversation. “I know you've been talking to some of the commandos … I was wondering if, well, if … you had reached any conclusions."

“Some. I could probably help them," Dellios said softly, “but I would rather they are looked over by an air mage first. If it were just mental conditioning, there is much I could to do reverse it, but … if they've been magicked, then I could easily do harm."

“Then do nothing," said Dacien.

“Do … nothing," said Dellios, sourly. “Yes, that's right, I should do nothing, but … they are so damaged, Dacien, that watching them is its own sort of pain. I am a guild senior. And what has been done to these bulls is unconscionable. I do not entirely know how it has been done, but in many places I recognize Guild techniques, I understand how they have been brought to this state, and knowing how my Guild's secrets have been turned to this … this … destruction infuriates me." Dellios took a breath. “Doing nothing, as you say, is the correct course of action. For now. But only for now. Once I consult with Lord Tarragon, I can begin work," and then he looked abashed.

“But forgive my presumption," Dellios said. “You and Bryant must be considered their owners."

“We are? But didn't we … steal them?"

Dellios snorted. “You could say that, but I would suggest they are closer to spoils of war. They are slaves, whatever – whoever – they were previously. Perhaps Lord Tarragon can work some miracle and retrieve something of their former selves, to build upon. It is that small chance that keeps me from trying …" and Dellios fell silent for a moment. “And they are yours, because you took responsibility for them." The green bull grimaced. “Life belongs to those who show up for it, after all."

“That sounds … accurate." Dacien spared a moment of thought to check on Socks, who had moved from drowsing to fast asleep. “May I ask you about Socks?"

“Socks?" and Dellios sighed. “Yes, by all means. It happens, I was careless …"

“Careless? What … I don't understand."

“I should not have permitted the depth of bond between us," Dellios said. “But … it rather surprised me. I hadn't expected he'd be so … adorable."

“You're … bonded to him?" Dacien thought for a moment. Someone – Teodor? – had explained what that meant, he remembered, even if he didn't remember exactly what that meant. But yes, yes, Teodor had … no, not told him, but warned him. The details came rushing back; a human exposed to a minotaur would bond quickly, but the minotaur had to be cautious to avoid a lesser, but very real attraction.

“I … it should not be so," said Dellios. “But I have allowed it to happen. I am looking for a new master for him. I haven't found anyone I like enough. He's extraordinary, and deserves a master who will appreciate him. Humans like him are rare jewels." The jade minotaur grimaced. “I know, I know, I sound like every besotted master, but … I still have some objectivity left. He's so willing to please, so eager to submit to his owner …" Dellios leaned over to whisper to Dacien. “That restraint he's wearing was his gift to me, and his next master," and leaned back with a proud smile.

Dacien nodded, trying to keep his confusion from showing while he thought about that. He glanced over to it for a moment, trying to understand just why Dellios thought that was … oh. Oh! A master might lock up a human, but that was usually a punishment, and Dacien had thought that and gone on but of course, the gold embroidery on the leather restraint meant that it was a mark of favor, not a punishment. It wasn't even locked.

“I had not seen it correctly," Dacien said. “But, that is … amazing."

“Yes," said Dellios. “It leaves me with a terrible predicament. I am not willing to hand Socks over to just anyone, but keeping him casts my own judgment into question."

“It does?"

“It's very hard to think clearly where he's concerned," Dellios admitted.

“I understand," Dacien said, thinking back to how he'd felt about Teodor just before. Or at least, how he remembered feeling. The memories were there, but they just didn't seem to connect. How could he have loved Teodor, trusted Teodor, so much, and now feel … nothing.

He wasn't angry, wasn't unhappy at the memories … Teodor had manipulated him, Dacien could see that clearly, but … looking back at it, seeing how the rest of the council had reacted, Dacien realized just how right Teodor had been. The other mages would never have permitted it, but presented with the change, they had – as Teodor had predicted – chosen to take the wait and see approach. Which, Dacien realized, practically every minotaur did. Dellios, wanting to do whatever it was to those poor mindfucked bulls. Wait and see. It was the standard minotaur trait when faced with anything new: paralysis. Maybe not entirely, but close enough, Dacien thought, close enough.

Except that … there wasn't anything else. The same cold reasoning that had turned his own memories to frozen recollection told him that. The Scyllans had either raised or found these bulls – and given that all the bulls he'd seen leading were pristine or ebon, Dacien would bet they'd sired them themselves, specifically to turn them into these obedient puppets.

“How would I start … undoing whatever was done?" Dacien asked.

“Not undoing," said Dellios. “Rebuilding them, of course. They seem somewhat … damaged, but from what you said, that's part of the change?"

“That's what Teodor thought," Dacien said.

“The problem is any ongoing magic," Dellios said. “I can do a lot, but if there's any kind of lasting effect, it's likely to prevent me from making any change."

“There is no ongoing magic," Dacien said confidently.

“You're sure of that?"

“Yes."

“Then," and Dellios thought for a moment. “Then all the commands must be deeply embedded in their minds, and their personality … such as it is … formed around that." Dellios shook his head. “Very impressive, from a technical standpoint, but … what a ghastly thing to do."

“Yes," agreed Dacien. “Can it be … changed? Worked around? Can they be … well, normal is probably the wrong word, but …"

“I … no," said Dellios. “You'd need to have an air-mage wipe their minds completely – and that is something that no mage will do." He paused. “No decent mage. And I would not trust a mage who agreed to it."

“Then we need to build on what's there, right?"

“Yes," Dellios said.

“How?"

“How … the first step would be to give them unique designations. Colors? Fruit? That's not something to build an identity around," said Dellios.

“No, I suppose not …" and all Dacien could think was Five before Teodor renamed him Dapple. Except there had been ritual around that. Was that ritual magic?

“No," Dellios said, sounding intrigued when Dacien described what he and Teodor had done with Dapple. “That's ritualistic, and … a good technique, a memorable experience, provides a basis for building new behavior and patterns – but there's no magic in it, none needed, something like that. Are you thinking of something like that would do for your commandos? It could give them a sense of belonging. Wash the old away, and give them a good, structured and entirely different context." The jade minotaur nodded to himself. “A good idea."

“Can we do it here?"

“Here? Now?" said Dellios. “No, we couldn't. We …"

“Get an air-mage to look at them, yes," said Dacien. “But it seems a disservice to them to force them to wait."

Dellios made a sort of snorting sound, and then said, “There is something to that, but we don't have a room for that down here. Or any canes. Or anything, really. And you'll want to get them somewhere permanent. Somewhere they can settle in. Yanking them from place to place isn't conducive to good training. Usually, that doesn't matter, but under the circumstances I'd advise giving them all the advantages you can manage."

Dacien let out a breath as he considered that. Dellios was right. Nearly every bull Dacien had met – even Teodor – liked predictable. Stable. Settled. Finding some way to make these bulls whole would mean challenging what they knew, how they acted, teaching them a little more independence – and having a safe place to be while they changed who they were could only help. “That's … I hadn't thought about that, but that kind of environment … yes, yes, you are right. It's just frustrating, watching them."

“Yes," agreed Dellios. “It is. Their parents and clan – if one can call it a clan – have much to answer for."

“I did want to talk about Socks, though," Dacien said. “I'm … a little relieved to hear that you don't mind giving him up."

“I mind very much," Dellios said affably. “I simply am resigned to it. Respectfully, though, I do not think you are the right master for him."

“I agree," said Dacien. “I don't have any particular bull in mind. At least I think I don't. Or if I do, I don't who it is."

“That is a very strange sequence of thoughts," Dellios said. “It requires some untangling. Might we start with why you are relieved?"

“Socks is mage-gifted."

Dellios was silent for a moment. “I did not know what to expect, but it would not have been that," the jade minotaur said finally. “I have never heard of a human mage."

“Generally they are trained as lenses."

Dellios' glance went over to the human in question, currently sleeping. “I had thought lenses were … different than mages."

“No," Dacien said.

“Well, I do not pretend to know much about the matter, so … it is possible you might be mistaken about this? Socks does not seem … hmmm. He is extraordinary, I have said so, but I would not have added that quality to his virtues." Dellios paused. “I suppose Lord Tarragon would have discovered this the next time he came by."

“I am sure he would have," said Dacien politely. “And I am certain. And … he reminds me of …"

“Of?"

“I don't remember," Dacien said. “It's been bothering me ever since I saw him, I've seen his magic before, but …"

“Seen his magic?" Dellios said. “Is that … I don't understand."

“Something like his magic, or as close as makes no difference, but … I can't remember who."

“You can see magic?"

“Yes," said Dacien. “I … my Master considered my own magic unusual. But I can see – sense, taste, smell, magic."

“Extraordinary," said Dellios. “I am curious. I don't wish to pry – ah, of course I do, but I do not know where the bounds of acceptable questions lie."

“I am not sure I know myself," Dacien admitted. “So much of minotaur etiquette seems … unspoken and simply understood."

“Minotaur etiquette?" Dellios said. “What a peculiar way to put it. Why do you say that? What other etiquette could there be? Human? Jaguen? Wolven?" The minotaur stared at Dacien for a moment. “You perplex me no small amount, Dacien."

“I … yes, I suppose I do. My master would suggest you to imagine I was raised by humans, and consequently have a limited exposure to civilization. Minotaur civilization."

Dellios considered that for a long moment. “That sounds bizarre. Did something damage your memories prior to your encounter with these Scyllans?"

“Not that I am aware of," Dacien said.

“Bizarre," pronounced Dellios, looking at Dacien intently. “Did your father try some experimental method of raising …" and then he stopped. “No, that makes no sense to me. Did …" and then Dellios stopped. “My imagination is not up to the task of matching your statements with possibilities," he said. “I cannot imagine how a minotaur would come to be raised by humans – and by humans, I am guessing that he means as human, yes?"

“Ah …" said Dacien.

“This lies close to the heart of your secrets, I think," Dellios said. “It does mean that, I can tell. And you are forbidden to speak of this, yes?"

“I … yes," said Dacien. “How …"

“I am Senior in the Slaver's Guild," Dellios said. “We are taught many things about reading expressions, and words, and statements. Judging motivation. Understanding intent. Seeing to the heart of our charges. And in giving you sanctuary, to some extent, you are in my charge – all of you."

“Yes," said Dacien. “I see that."

“But you didn't, before," said Dellios. “How peculiar … unless, of course, you were raised by humans. As human. Yes, that would explain many of the things I've found odd about you, above and beyond the mindbending … I simply fail to see how it could be possible. Obviously it is possible, and something remarkable is hidden behind that metaphor."

“Yes," said Dacien, with a smile. “That is right. But …"

“No, no," said Dellios. “I enjoy riddles … and we have several days until your father can send us assistance, even if he moves instantly – which I trust he shall."

“I find it hard to believe that Teodor was made Patriarch," Dacien admitted. “He didn't seem to be …"

“Yes?"

“I don't know. Among humans, those who rise to power usually … go after it aggressively."

“And that is sometimes true for minotaur as well," Dellios said. “Sometimes. I am sure there is a fascinating story behind his ascension, but I know only the barest facts. After Patriarch Cresphonte's assassination, there was a brief interregnum where Lord Xavien acted as Regent. There is a delicious rumor – that I do not know the truth of – that Lord Teodor was unaware that he had been selected until Lord Xavien announced it."

“A rumor?"

“I heard several variants," Dellios confessed. “That Lord Xavien withheld the information out of some misplaced sense of one-upsmanship. A concern for security. A presentiment. Some obscure magical reason. That he feared Lord Teodor would refuse the appointment. Even that the Lycaili had selected some other minotaur, but Lord Xavien unilaterally chose Lord Teodor and nobody challenged his substitution." Dellios gave a snort. “All rumors, and nobody is willing to declare them as truth, which makes me suspect they are all … inflated exaggerations."

“Probably," said Dacien. “Lord … Xavien? Lord Green, do you mean?"

“I … Lord Green became Lord Xavien when he became Regent," said Dellios. “But you were unaware of this," he said. “What a puzzle you make," Dellios said, with that muzzle-twist of a grin.

“I'm glad I provide distraction. Does he remain Lord Xavien, now that there is a Patriarch?"

“Yes, of course," Dellios said. “I am so certain there is some simple explanation for your ignorance; you are not slow, indeed, I find you quick and agile of mind, very roan, but … these gaps." He brightened for a moment, and then shook his head. “No. No, that is not right; I had thought perhaps you were brought up in extreme isolation – Lord Fog was said to be something of a recluse – but although that would explain the gaps, it would not explain a knowledge of human politics. In fact, it would be incongruent with them. Not raised in isolation, then."

“No," said Dacien.

“Somehow, then, you were raised in contact with humans, but not minotaurs," Dellios said slowly. “Yes, that would explain it … but how could that be possible?"

“Are you asking me?"

“No, no, I am enjoying this." Dellios' stare unfocused for a moment. “I may not appear to be enjoying it, but I assure you I am."

“Then I will leave you to your guesses," Dacien said. “I would not wish to give you any unasked-for hints."

“I cannot fault your courtesy," Dellios said.

Dellios said very little to him over the next couple of days, but Dacien caught him staring at him speculatively from time to time – much as he watched Socks, trying to think of what – who – Socks reminded him. Both of them – Dellios and Dacien – took advantage of Bryant's expertise as he conducted sparring exercises for the commandos. Other than that, there was little to do but wait, think, and wait some more.

The opening of the door to the root cellar caught them by surprise for a moment, but the commandos, Dellios, and Bryant snapped into a guard position – only to relax slightly when they recognized Guildmaster Iudas flanked by an ebon minotaur and a senior Leviathan warlord.

“Del, this is Lord Xavien Lycaili, and General Trevor – Lord Xavien vouches for him," Iudas started when Dacien recognized Lord Xavien.

“YOU!"