Cold Blood

A Story by Onyx Tao

© 2013 Onyx Tao

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

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Chapter Six: Five

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As Dacien improved, Lord Fog got visibly worse. The human was starved and thirsty from his experience, and he hadn't noticed just how tired the gray minotaur looked -- to a great extent, the gray of the minotaur hid the graying of his skin and eyes. But after the first day, Dacien realized that even standing up was trying the minotaur, and the next day, Lord Fog gave up pretending entirely, even as the human regained his strength.

Teodor laid in the bed, with Dacien sitting next to him, almost but not quite sleeping. Dacien could ... feel .. something; he thought it was the magic that the minotaur was working. Occasionally Teodor would grow particularly still, and Dacien felt the cold pulse of magic more strongly. The minotaur sometimes chuckled during these events, but other than that, he said little. He didn't want to discuss the lensing lesson, not yet, because "I cannot yet give the matter the attention it deserves," and "it is not a matter of immediate concern, Apprentice," presumably because "there will be time for this later."

On the fifth day, though, Dacien began to worry. The gray minotaur lay motionless, clearly concentrating, and now Dacien was certain he could feel the magic -- cold, chilly, clammy -- emanating from the still form. He even thought he could feel the opposing forces, one like a fine wind etching away at the minotaur's power, another hot, radiating like a fire that was slowly weakening its confinement, and a third as a determined buttressed opposition that impeded the minotaur's magic like a thick dark tar. Teodor said almost nothing, other than asking for water -- but Dacien gave him honey-laced milk, which the minotaur accepted with nothing more than a comment of, "Interesting water, Apprentice." He still drank it, and asked for another glass.

The staff kept away from their suite -- the two adjoining suites. Dacien had recovered in the smaller room, and for some reason, Teodor had joined Dacien when he himself grew weak. Dacien would have worried more, but Teodor had told him that this was the normal course of a contest of magic, and ... once it was over, he'd recover, however tired he looked now. Even so, the minotaur looked so exhausted that it just seemed wrong to Dacien. This wasn't how his Master should look, or act, or be. His Master was strong, vibrant, with a deep enduring wisdom that mirrored the power and endurance of his own powerful form.

Watching that power laid low ... hurt.

Being unable to do anything but watch ... hurt more. Somehow, being able to sense the battle, watch the alien forces slowly crushing the life and will of the minotaur was even worse than simply watching a tired minotaur become more tired.

Sometime during the next night, it grew too much for Dacien. Teodor's calm power had dwindled even as the others had redoubled, and rain faltered into a sporadic series of light sprinkles. Dacien reached out to his Master, and let something ... everything, he thought later, flow into the gray minotaur.

Teodor himself had barely started on his alarmed shout of, "No!" before the magic poured into him, and then out again, shredding through the dark impedance like scythes through wheat, stilling the sharp wind, and quenching the radiating heat. Teodor's form crackled with power -- visibly sparking blue as excess magic changed to power. The sheets, crisp white, faded to gray almost instantly as a wave of magic expanded around the mage; Dacien watched with surprise as a seeming circle of gray exploded away from Teodor, pulling the color out of the rug, the furniture, the walls ... even the human himself in what felt like the faintest tickle.

Teodor looked surprised, but then he ... did something, the magics folded and twisted in a complex way that Dacien couldn't follow, and the flow stopped. The minotaur looked at the human. "That ... No," he said, either correcting himself or changing his mind. "Foolish. Could have hurt yourself." He paused. "Come. In," he said, gesturing to the bed.

Dacien slipped between the light bed linens, and Teodor put an arm around him, firmly. "There," the minotaur whispered. "If you're not tired now, you will be, as soon as that ... catches up with you. Now. Sleep."

"I ..."

"I'm too tired," Teodor said softly. "I have not slept in five days. Please, Dacien, just ... sleep."

Dacien sighed, and relaxed, waiting for the tiredness to catch up to him, and he felt the minotaur's breathing change subtly from waking to sleeping almost immediately. He waited, extended that new sense of flow somewhat, and could feel the relaxing presence, a cool gray -- yes, it felt gray -- wash of magic out of the minotaur. The exhaustion that Teodor had predicted never arrived, but he did, finally, slip into sleep, Teodor spooned up against him, the scent and now the subtle gray presence of minotaur surrounding him.

When he woke, Teodor had already risen -- and, to both Dacien's eyes and his new sense of flow, he seemed much, if not entirely, recovered, and with that, a fear he hadn't realized he'd been carrying dissipated. "Master!" he said, happily. "You're OK!"

"Apprentice," the minotaur said gravely, dressed and seated in a huge chair set across from the bed. "I am ... unhappy, Dacien-Apprentice," Teodor said quietly. "I am most unhappy. Against my warnings and cautions you have touched magic, and in such a way that you threatened not only yourself, but me as well. Simply because the results were not catastrophic is no excuse. I have warned you, repeatedly, that magic is dangerous. I have warned you that you risk death in learning its use. Do you remember my so saying?"

"I ..." Dacien faltered, his pleasure in seeing the minotaur fading in the face of the rebuke. "Yes, Master," he said.

Teodor shook his head. "For this discussion, you must use my name, Teodor."

"Yes, Teodor," Dacien said.

"You heard these warnings?" the minotaur said intently.

"Yes, Teodor," Dacien said, "but I could feel you losing, and ... and," he fell silent.

The minotaur looked surprised for a moment. "You could. Well, and hadn't I told you that I would lose ... that it was inevitable, and I would recover?"

"Yes," Dacien said.

"So what non-sane impulse prompted you to ... to ... I don't even know what you did!" the minotaur burst out. "Whatever it was! Magic is _ dangerous ! You could have killed me! You could have killed _yourself!"

"I ... I didn't realize that," Dacien said, biting his lip. "I ... I just couldn't watch you, well, fade like that. Master. Teodor." The human was quiet for a moment. "Master Teodor."

"I want your word and promise, Dacien-Apprentice, that never again, not until and unless you are confirmed as a mage in your own right, you will you touch magic without my explicit permission." The minotaur paused.

"I'm .. I'm sorry Teodor. Master Teodor." Dacien swallowed. "I ... won't. You have my word."

"Good," said Teodor, looking a little less grave. "Thank you. I want you to understand, Dacien-Apprentice, that I think any other mage on the council -- any of them -- would have slain you while you slept. I thought long and hard about it, and ... had difficulty convincing myself not to. I think, if this ever becomes known, the Council will censure me." The minotaur's expression twisted into an unfamiliar expression. "I certainly would, if such a report were brought to me."

"Master?" asked Dacien.

"Teodor," the minotaur corrected. "Still Teodor. I ... believe you can bring this recklessness to an end. I believe you will. And because I believe that, because I believe you will understand just how non-sane your actions were, I will put my own life in hazard to continue teaching you. But I want you to understand what a serious thing you have done, and ... I hope, learn from it.

"You have tremendous insight, and a surprising maturity and humility that deeply impresses me -- or at least, did. Your potential is vast. But ..." Teodor shook his head. "I am one of the mages of my clan. My responsibility to my clan is far greater than my responsibility to you, Dacien-Apprentice. Do not place these responsibilities at odds ... again. The next time, I will take the path of prudence -- it will be my duty to do so. And however hard it is to carry out, however personally painful I find it, I will do so."

"I know you will, Master Teodor," Dacien said quietly, realizing just how serious the minotaur was. "I'm ... I'm sorry, Master. Teodor. I didn't think. I ... just acted. It was ... I just felt the flow, and then ... I don't know, Master, that I even thought. It ... happened. I should have ... I should have held back, Teodor. Master. Master Teodor. But ..."

"I consider the subject closed," Teodor said. "I appreciate your courage, and I am ... touched deeply by the concern you have shown me over the past few days. Indeed, that is one of the things that ... mitigated for you."

"Thank you, Master Teodor."

"Master, now," the minotaur said. "We do not need to stand on such formality."

"Thank you, Master," The minotaur looked puzzled for a moment. "For a second chance, I mean," Dacien explained.

Teodor shrugged. "I have come to hold you in some esteem and affection, too. And, I think you represent ... enough mysteries that even that alone might suffice. We will discuss your recent lesson, and last night's, hmm, events, after breakfast."

The minotaur kept the conversation light through the meal of an egg-pie with cheese, ham, onions, and spinach, but once Teodor had the house-slaves clear the table and withdraw leaving only a large pot of tea, the minotaur asked Dacien for his perception of events, first the peculiar culmination of the lensing lesson, and then for his version of the previous night. Teodor said little during Dacien's description, asking a question here and there, or having him go back to something previous for a further explanation.

When Dacien finished, Teodor was quiet for a few moments, and then said simply, "Thank you, Dacien-Apprentice."

"Can ... can you tell me what happened?"

"No," Teodor said mildly. "I can't."

"One of those things I'm not supposed to know?" asked Dacien.

"No," the minotaur said lightly. "It's just that I have no idea." The gray minotaur smiled beatifically down at the human. "Never heard of such a thing. A lens actively drawing magic from a mage? I've never heard of a lens doing that before; I've been a lens." The minotaur took a deep breath. "I can't do that. It's unique, Dacien-Apprentice, to my knowledge. Unique."

"As for ... the ... I'm not sure what to call it. Antilensing, perhaps, that you performed last night. That, too, is something I've never heard of. And ... I think, as I consider what happened, that perhaps if I hadn't been so tired -- you were right, I was at the limit of my endurance -- and if I hadn't been so surprised, I might have been able to make use of your strength." The minotaur looked at Dacien, thinking. "And ... I may have been too hasty to call you reckless. I keep forgetting -- because it is no part of my gifts -- that you seem to have some level of percipience. I wonder if perhaps that could have been operating last night," the gray minotaur said softly.

"Really?"

"It was still ... most unwise," Teodor said. "I take back nothing I said. It is one thing to act on a percipient intuition once you are certain you have percipience; it is another to act without it. Still. If you know it is the right action," the minotaur trailed off. "Regardless. When I said another council mage would have ... acted differently, I was not jesting."

"I understand, Master," Dacien said. "I ... am sorry."

"Yes, and I have accepted your apology, and if I seemed to criticize you again, then I am sorry. It is, as I said, over." Teodor stretched. "I spoke with Ruus this morning, when I woke up." Teodor grimaced. "He may not know when I want to speak with him, but when he wants to speak with me, well, he seems to know the very moment I wake. Percipience. And he knows of no way to test for such percipience, other than to test your intuitions. Eventually, you'll either come to know whether such a presentation is percipience, or not."

"That's not very helpful," Dacien said.

"No," Teodor said. "I am ... sorry. And ... I admit I am baffled by your ability to draw power while lensing. You were in lens euphoria -- believe me, I know what it is, every mage knows what it is, and ... no mage expects a lens to control himself once the lens has slipped into euphoria. But if you have the ability to draw power while acting as a lens, then acting as a lens is not going to teach you to manipulate the flows of magic properly. I'm not certain, Dacien-Apprentice, how to instruct you when you have this gift."

"Master, I did mention that I felt the magic you were doing, last night."

"Yes," said Teodor wryly. "Another unique quality, Dacien-Apprentice. I have never heard of any mage not directly involved in a spell being able to sense it."

"Wouldn't that let me understand flow?"

"It may be," Teodor said after a moment. "But ... do you sense the flows now? What ... no. What do you sense now?"

Dacien extended, much as he had last night; expecting -- yes, he felt the cool grayness that was Lord Fog's presence. "You, Master. I sense you."

"Sense ... well, that doesn't do much good," sighed Teodor. "You'd need more than that."

"I feel you as, well, a cold grayness. Well, not cold. Chilly. No. Cool. Like a cool breeze on a hot day."

"Interesting," said Teodor. "I perceive you as a powerful source of magic, but ... nothing more. Well, perhaps a subtle source. Usually there's ... some flavor to magic, but ... nothing that strong." He paused. "Maybe I should ..."

"Teodor? May I have a word with you?" said a deep voice, echoing like a bell.

"Yes, Ruus?" Teodor said, interrupting himself.

"Are you recovered? I wouldn't think so, but I had a feeling you might be. And that would be convenient."

"Yes, actually, pretty much. I'll be fine tomorrow. What do you need?"

"Doze and Lash are with our forces, with General Osaze, Green is still dealing with the repercussions of the rain, and I was wondering, if you were recovered, I'd like you to join with an Ouroborous army. You've met the Lord of Tongs before, haven't you?"

"Yes, I like him. Good mage."

"He's an earth mage, and they were hoping we had someone who could do the veiling you did at Mog Ford. But Doze is needed with Osaze."

"Yes. As long as they don't need any magic done until tomorrow, I could. But the human would have to come with me, at this point. We just started lessons, and ... well, he's showing some signs of sensitivity. I don't think it would be safe to leave him alone."

"That's up to you," the voice said. "Trand's told me your relationship with him is atypical, but if you could convince him to wear a leash, that would keep him safe."

"No doubt," said Teodor. "That might be a little too much, too soon."

"It's your slave. But if I were taking one of mine into an Ourobouros army, I'd have him leashed. Easier all around."

"Probably," sighed Teodor. "Where should I join them? Say, if I left tomorrow morning. No rain."

"Xarsen, if you could be there in two days."

"Yes," said Teodor. "Might I ask a favor?"

"Certainly."

"Contact me again, every noon and sunset, until you have confirmation I'm with ... is the Lord of Tongs leading the army?"

"No. General Orox has overall command, and he's got Taxx and Anthante with him. I've met Anthante, he's an officious ass. Met Orox at a reception -- for the Lord of Tongs, actually -- and he seemed fine, but I didn't spend time with him. Taxx I know, and he'll be easy to work with."

"I appreciate the intelligence; I've spent an evening with Orox. I can work with him."

"Really," said Ruus.

"Yes," said Teodor blandly. "Can you contact me until you have confirmation I've joined up with General Orox?"

"Of course. Sensible. I'll let the Lord of Tongs know you're coming, and Doze and Lash to expect you, too."

"Thank you. Oh, and have Doze tell General Osaze I'll be with the relief force?"

"Yes. Anything else?"

"No. Thank you again."

"Thank you, Teodor. This really simplifies things. I was afraid I was going to have to recall Lord Winter."

The gray minotaur shook his head briefly, and turned to Dacien. "Well. I'd hoped we'd have some time to work some of this out, but it looks like I'm going to be busy. We'll have to leave tomorrow, I'm afraid."

"Yes, Master. I heard."

The minotaur stopped, narrowed his eyes, and said, "Did ... of course you did. What did you hear?"

"Your conversation with Lord Chimes, Master," Dacien said. "Why ... was I not supposed to?"

"That would be one way of putting it, yes," Teodor replied. "The spell was to allow Ruus and I to talk; you should not have been able to hear Ruus's side of the conversation, but ... you did."

"Yes, Master."

Teodor shook his head. "That's three things that seem ... well. New. Unique. This will require some careful thought, Dacien-Apprentice, before I am certain how to proceed. So. I regret that my teaching you will again be interrupted by Clan duties, but Lord Chimes needs me as a mage and liaison with our allies.

"Ouroborous, yes, Master, I heard. Master?"

"Yes?"

"What did Lord Chimes mean by leash?"

The gray minotaur nodded. "Exactly what he said. Clan Ouroborous is, more conservative, you might say, as regards humans. If you are wearing a collar and leash, it is a signal that you are my private property and I am not willing to share you, or have you run errands for others. It would cut down on any misunderstandings." The minotaur looked Dacien directly in the eye. "It would simplify matters, Dacien-Apprentice, if you would wear my leash."

Dacien swallowed. "What ... what would I have to do?"

"Obey me, which you already do. Speak only when directly spoken to. You take orders only from the one holding the leash, and me, although I doubt I would hand your leash to anyone to anyone else. If I drop the leash, you may speak to other slaves, quietly, if it does not disturb anyone."

"That doesn't sound hard, Master."

Teodor smiled, the grin twisting his muzzle. "I doubt it will be."

One of the servants walked in with a heavy leather collar and polished iron chain. "Thank you, that will be all," and the minotaur held out the collar. "Some practice is in order. Remove your clothes, and come over here."

"Wait, I ... I have to be naked?"

"Yes," Teodor said patiently, and waited while Dacien disrobed. The human walked over, and stood still as the huge gray hands fastened the collar around his neck. It wasn't tight, but it felt ... confining, and when the minotaur fastened the chain leash to it, Dacien felt a blush of humiliation redden his body, showing pink against his now-gray skin.

"Excellent," the minotaur smiled. "Very good. Now, I want to show you some specific commands that you'll need to know how to obey precisely -- heel, sit, wait, come ..."

Dacien sat in Teodor's lap, cuddled up against the warm fur, in Lord Fog's carriage the next day. He still wore the collar, since Teodor had insisted he get used to it, but Teodor had let him put his clothes back on. Learning how to behave on the leash had been hard, but he'd never expected that Teodor would make him perform for all the servants in House Wide. It was, without any doubt, the most humiliating experience of his life, bar none. But Teodor had insisted, saying "You need to know what this will be like in front of others."

The human had to admit there was a lot of truth to that. He'd been so flustered that he'd confused two commands; sitting when he should be kneeling. He'd even had to 'beg,' although Teodor had said he would not have to do that one again. He sighed, and moved in closer to the warmth of the minotaur, and just inhaled the light resinous scent.

A deep chuckle sounded, and he felt Teodor caress his head, running his fingers through his hair. "There. You did well, you know, Dacien-Apprentice."

"Thank you, Master."

"It usually takes longer for a human to get used to a leash," the minotaur said.

"I'm not sure that's a great achievement, Master. And I'm not sure I'm used to it. I'm not looking forward to wearing it."

"No," sighed Teodor. "I wish it weren't necessary as well. You will do fine, though. And ..." the minotaur reached down, and lifted Dacien up a little, closer to him. "Here," he whispered, shrugging his shirt aside to expose his pectorals, and the small jutting nipple. Dacien looked up, a little confused. "We're all alone in here," Teodor said slowly, smiling. "And it's a long trip. We have to find some way to make the miles pass, do we not?"

"I suppose," Dacien said.

"Good. Let me ..." and the rest of the minotaur's answer was lost in a sigh as the human took the nubbin of flesh in his mouth. "Yes ...." Teodor hissed. "Perhaps this trip will not be so tedious, after all ..." Teodor carefully, slowly undressed the human. "This," he said in a low voice, "is not for a lesson, Dacien-Apprentice. This is for the sheer pleasure of the thing itself. Yes," he said, as the now-naked human repositioned himself on the furred thighs of the minotaur, taking the other nipple on Teodor's firmly muscled chest. The minotaur just moaned softly, and held the human to him tightly. "Yes," the minotaur murmured. "Harder. Aahh!"

Dacien let his hands wander over the hard flesh of the minotaur. The tickle of fur against his skin was arousing; the soft pine-resin smell was intoxicating, and exciting. He rubbed himself up against the larger minotaur, tracing the muscles under the pelt up, from groin to chest, from chest to the neck, and up to the minotaur's bovine face, and then up to the cheek, and eye, and finally to the tightly angled horns. "Be careful," Teodor said, holding his head still. "The points are sharp -- very." Teodor let out a low sound -- not quite a lowing, but there was no mistaking the pleasure in it. Dacien could feel the minotaur hardening, his shaft lengthening and expanding. The human spread his legs, and let it ride between the cheeks of his ass. He could feel his pulse quicken in anticipation ...

Anticipation of being fucked? Somewhere in the back of his mind, something howled in protest, but he ignored it. Teodor was waiting -- waiting for him, and he sighed in completion as he welcomed Teodor into him. His own soft moans joined the minotaur's as they completed the rituals of pleasure together.

Between interludes of relaxed lovemaking, Teodor tested Dacien's ability to sense magic, and discovered that, although the human couldn't seem to cast spells, he could empower them, almost precisely opposite to working as a lens who served as the focus for another mage's spell; Dacien could serve as the power behind it, allowing Teodor to concentrate on the spell itself. Dacien could sense spells too, although -- and this baffled the minotaur -- he couldn't actually tell what the spell was doing. He could tell the strength, and the direction, and sometimes he could even tell where the spell was, and he got the overwhelming sense of Teodor with it -- a cool refreshing grayness that pervaded everything the minotaur did -- but he couldn't tell warming spell from a waterproofing spell.

"Very well," Teodor said that evening. "Dacien, you have my permission to use your ability to sense magic as you wish. But nothing beyond that. We will encounter the Lord of Tongs, who is an Ouroborous mage, and ... I'd like to see what you sense of him."

"But not to touch him or his spells, of course," Dacien said.

"Yes."

"I understand, Master."

"Yes ..." said Teodor. "And ... there is another thing, Dacien-Apprentice."

"Yes, Master?"

The gray minotaur sighed. "It is not customary to address a slave with a name."

"I know, Master," Dacien said. "But ..."

"It would cause complications while we are with Ouroborous," Teodor said, overriding him. The minotaur looked at Dacien. "I am not asking you to surrender your name to me, not today, but I am asking that I may call you, until we are back at Mistingrise or House Wide, by a less controversial appellation."

Dacien looked away. "Master," he said.

"I know," Teodor said. "It is a much bigger thing than the collar and leash you have accepted. A name is the core of identity and ego. To surrender it is a terrifying thing, and requires trust -- great trust, and I hope to earn that level of trust. I do not imagine I have it now."

"I trust you, Master," Dacien said. "It's just .."

"There is trust and trust," Teodor said. "I do not ask you to surrender your name. For the next few days of weeks, I will know you are _ Dacien. _ But for your safety, I will call you Slave."

"Not ... not even Apprentice?" whispered Dacien.

"Again, it is not customary for a minotaur to take a human as an apprentice, although ... it is not unheard of. There is ... precedent," Teodor said, "but it is not precedent I care to remind anyone of just yet. I am not ready for my Clan -- or our allies -- to know that I have chosen a human as apprentice. There are reasons, historical and tedious, why this will be a problem and I propose to deal with them by first making you my Apprentice, and then presenting it as a done deed."

"It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission," Dacien said.

The minotaur considered for a moment. "Apt, but ..." the minotaur looked a little concerned. "I approve of initiative, Dacien-Apprentice, I do, but ... the more I think about that, the more I think it is a maxim to be applied with great restraint."

"Yes, Master."

The next day's travel was much the same; Teodor working small spells, and seeing how Dacien sensed them, and asking if Dacien could sense anything else -- the breeze, for example, or the earth beneath them, or a stream they were crossing. Only once did Dacien feel something, a long thin river of power -- too clear and clean to be a spell, and when he described it to Teodor, the minotaur just shook his head. "Yes," he'd said, "there is something like that there, but ... it's not something ..."

Then Teodor had looked at Dacien thoughtfully, and Dacien knew, just knew, that the minotaur had thought of something, and Dacien also knew that Teodor wouldn't discuss it until he'd finished thinking about it. The minotaur kept asking questions, though, asking what different spells felt like, or trying to see if Dacien could distinguish one from another. "Your gifts are still developing," the minotaur had said. "It may be that although you have difficulty today, you may find yourself able to do this tomorrow. And ... your gifts are unusual, without precedent, to my knowledge, although I do wish to spend some time in the council archives. It is most frustrating to be denied the resources of the Council when, for the first time, I truly need them!"

"But you'll be back, Master, after this, won't you?"

The minotaur threw a sharp glance at Dacien. "Dacien-Apprentice, if I shared what I now know about your burgeoning magics, the Council would order your death as the path of prudence. They would see clearly the danger you pose, and, although they would agree that we might learn much about magic from you, they would not consider that learning to balance the threat. Nor would I disagree with them on that."

"But," started the human, growing cold. "You said ..."

"The difference is that I do not consider you a threat," Teodor said, reassuringly. "I have come to know you, and I judge you are not such a danger. And, since you were given to my keeping as an official Council act -- by Lord Chimes, guided by his own gifted percipience, I must act as I think best for Clan and Council, and ... what that you said earlier? Simpler to beg forgiveness than obtain permission?"

"It's a human saying," Dacien said.

"It is an alarming phrase," said Teodor. "And yet, here, it would seem to apply. So, then, Dacien-Apprentice. Have I made sufficiently clear how inconvenient it would be if anyone -- anyone - were to have an idea of what your waking gifts are? I do not wish to defend my actions to the Council until you are confirmed as a mage. Until that point, the Council can order any action it deems prudent in regard to you."

"A human can be confirmed as a mage? Master?"

Teodor didn't say anything for a few moments, clearly considering just what to say. "That condition will not bar you from confirmation, Dacien-Apprentice." The minotaur glanced out the window, and sighed. "I won't dissemble, Dacien-Apprentice, I do not like armies, nor battles, nor even the day-to-day work of soldiery. Armies are loud, confused, and full of interruptions while one is working, bringing yetmore work, or worse, tedious papers to sign, send, read, full of obfuscatory admonitions and vague prescriptions ..." The minotaur trailed off. "And that is as one of its masters. How much more unpleasant would it be to be enrolled in such an enterprise as a soldier?"

"Not that bad," Dacien said. "At least, not on the Imperial side."

"And after they are defeated and enslaved?"

"Well, they won't be in the army anymore, Master."

Teodor just stared at the human for a long, long time. "I am not certain if you meant that seriously, or as jest," he said finally.

"Being in the army is often like that."

Teodor merely shook his head, and went back to staring out the window, watching the road drift by.

Xarsen turned out to be a small town, if only by minotaur standards, and Dacien had only a brief view of it. The carriage pulled into a small inn, and Teodor snapped the leash onto Dacien's collar. It took him only a moment with the innkeeper to get a private suite -- the finest such in Xarsen, the huffing minotaur proprietor promised. After the unbelievable luxury of Mistingrise and House Wide, the much plainer three-room suite suited Dacien well. The linens were still finer than Imperial fabrics, and the feather-beds (and cushions!) luxurious, but it was, at least, luxurious to Imperial standards, not the much more expansive minotaur ones. The walls were whitewashed wood, the floor made of old polished planks the color of old honey. The rooms did have the ingenious minotaur indoor privies and tubs, but at least they were old. Clean, but old. Dacien felt far more comfortable here than he had before.

Teodor seemed not to even notice, giving curt orders that dinner be brought up. The gray minotaur ate quickly, and then started for the door, and stopped. He walked back over to Dacien, picked up the leash, and looped it around a chair. "There. Technically, Dacien, having the leash looped is as if I were holding it -- you need not obey or notice others." Teodor loosed it, and handed it back the human. "If anyone enters the suite, loop it like that, and you won't be troubled. Do ... stay within our rooms here, please."

"That's ... yes, thank you."

Teodor snorted. "Yes, it is sort of odd, I suppose." He headed back towards the door. "I'm going out; I'll probably be back in an hour or three. Oh. See if you can track me. The range won't be that far, and it may not be difficult, or it might be very hard. We'll see."

"Yes, Master."

Teodor smiled briefly at his apprentice. "I am sorry these first few days of ours have been so interrupted. You, my apprentice, are my highest priority and my most vital task ... but these other matters, too, must be dealt with."

"Yes, I know."

"Thank you," sighed the minotaur, stepping out of the door, and letting it close on a suddenly emptier room. Dacien stood, leash in hand, staring at the door. Just seven days ago -- just -- he'd let Teodor fuck him. Seven days. One week later, he was wearing a leash, and expected to sit on command. He laughed, a harsh sound, in the room. And he would, he knew. If -- when -- Teodor walked back through that door, picked up the leash, and said, 'Sit,' he would.

"How," he breathed, barely audible even to himself. How had that happened? It seemed so ... impossible. On one hand Teodor was promising him -- had promised! - to make him an apprentice mage; teach him magic, make him a mage -- somehow, although Dacien still didn't understand how that could work. Minotaurs treated humans like ... like ... talking dogs. Good for menial service, good for repetitive drudgery, but not much else. He didn't see how minotaurs would or could ever accept a human as a mage, much less when being a mage seemed to coincide with clan rank.

The minotaur was clearly concerned that the upcoming battle -- humans against minotaurs -- would upset him, or ... something. Try to rejoin the Imperial Army? The army that had sent him and his fellows to certain death or capture as a feint? No. Whatever loyalty he'd felt to the Empire was really just loyalty to his friends. Some of whom, even now, were slaves, working in mines, houses, fields, wherever the minotaurs needed them. More of whom, he thought, were dead, killed in the battle or butchered afterward by the minotaur's wolven allies. Sliced up and dried as jerky. He couldn't help them, not now, maybe not even if he were to become a mage. But maybe he could, too.

Dacien twitched in remembrance of smoke-pork smell he'd marched away from at Mog Ford, and the wolven watching him as he'd limped off with the other prisoners. What had they thought? That Teodor had cheated them? That those last few human survivors were lucky? Unlucky? Only spared temporarily?

And was that about to happen to this new army? A moment ago, he'd felt nothing for them, his loyalty to the Empire worn away by apathy, the outright deception and sacrifice of his friends -- and himself. But ... what about the soldiers?

The men? What would happen to them when the Ouroborous army and the Lycaili forces met? Of course, Dacien knew pretty much what would happen ... he'd been through it once already. Unless it went differently. With that with that many minotaurs, Dacien was expecting a grim repeat of the disaster at Mog Ford. But if they had mages ... he didn't think his army had been equipped with mages. Maybe they knew something the minotaurs didn't? It seemed reasonable, as Dacien thought about it. The human generals knew as well as the minotaurs just what was and was not a favorable battle, and they wouldn't seek an unfavorable one, not with the real army. Would they?

If the humans won, then he -- Dacien -- would be free to return to the Empire. He could live with that. And if ... the minotaurs won, then ... then he'd continue to be here, with Teodor. Lord Fog. Master. And that ... he could live with that, too. In fact, the longer he thought about it, the more he thought that maybe, just maybe, that was the path he'd prefer.

He'd prefer to live as a slave to a minotaur, held on a leash, commanded to sit, stay, heel, wait ... even beg. Where was his pride? Was that what Teodor had meant, that a human mage wouldn't be a problem, because by that time he'd be so totally under Teodor's control that ... that he wouldn't even be him anymore? Only ... that just didn't seem like what the minotaur would do. Or mean. Or look towards. That moment, in Ruus's office, when Teodor had seemed almost giddy, telling him he wasn't a mere slave, but an apprentice. His Apprentice. That he, Dacien, would be a mage.

Except ... the more he saw of minotaurs, the more that Teodor explained, the less likely it seemed that a human could be one.

Dacien was still turning that over and over in his mind when he heard steps and the door opening; he looped his leash quickly around the bedpost.

Entering were his Master, and another minotaur, with a deep golden pelt and wearing dull brown clothes. His horns, however, were long -- long enough that he had to twist his head sideways to enter -- they had to extend at least three feet from his head in each direction, and they were tipped with gold. Lord Fog's were short, wickedly sharp and pointed, but close to the head. These were ...

Of clan Ouroborous, Dacien guessed. The golden minotaur glanced once around the room -- and Dacien felt his eyes linger on him for just a moment.

"Hardly up to your usual standards, Te."

The gray minotaur shrugged. "It's what was here. It's far better than my accommodations at Mog Ford were." He turned. "I don't have a tent."

"You don't ..." the golden minotaur shook his head. "Te. That's so ..."

"The power came on me early," Teodor said, almost apologetically. "I had to get it under control. And by the time I had, all my agemates had already left Tancresos. And I had ... duties. Taking over for Lord Ember. I suppose I could have gone back, but ..."

"It would be hard to move from being Lord of Lycaili to a cadet?"

"Yes," admitted Teodor. "In retrospect, I wish I'd taken the time, or ... or perhaps gone to Zargalos. If you would have accepted me."

"Zargalos is a much harder school than Tancresos," the other said.

Teodor shrugged. "I could have been anonymous there, simply a washwater-gray minotaur named Teodor. I could hardly do that at Tancresos."

"Truth," said the other. "You brought a lens, I see."

"He is in training; I do not expect him to be of magical assistance to me on campaign," Teodor said dismissively. "But he's at that sensitive part of his schooling ... I did not want to leave him alone."

"So give him to Lord Chimes."

"I do not want another using him; I wish him to answer only to my hand."

"I never thought you were that sort," the golden minotaur said, almost disapprovingly. "You sound like some of the olders of my clan."

"Do I?" asked Teodor, softly. "Well. My reasoning is different, I think. I do not think of a human lens as an interchangeable and replaceable tool. He is mine, I have trained him, and I have a responsibility to see that he is maintained properly. Slaves are entitled ..."

"To shelter, food, security, yes," the other said. "It's just an odd way to do that. I thought you were against using humans as lenses?"

Teodor stiffened; Dacien could see it, although he wasn't sure if the other minotaur could. The motion was subtle, little more than a hesitancy in the graceful stride of the minotaur, but unmistakable nevertheless. "I was," the reply came, the hesitation gone. "My opinion is now different. I would certainly welcome a better solution, of course. All my objections to the practice stand."

"But?"

"What changed your mind?"

"I have become convinced the alternatives are worse," Teodor said. "Using a human as a lens seems the least unpleasant path. As I said, I'd happily adopt a superior plan. Pardon me, Luzeil, but ... this really isn't what I expected to be discussing."

The gold minotaur grimaced. "Te, please call me Tongs. Or Luz. I .."

"Yes," said Teodor. "I'm sorry. It's ... partly that ... well, I wasn't Lord Fog the last time. It makes me feel ... very strange, to be here. As if I'm someone else. As if you're someone else. We aren't of course."

"We are," the other minotaur said.

Teodor's expression grew still. "That's a disturbing thing to say, Luz. In ... in what way?"

"We're both more than we were, and ... you're hiding something from me, Teodor. And ... it's my duty to find out what it is, before I let you into camp." The golden minotaur's face turned towards Dacien. "What is that, Teodor?"

"My business as Lord Fog. A human, come into magic, placed in my hands to train."

"You said you'd never take one."

"Never," said Teodor, "is a long time."

"Your views on human mages haven't changed enough for you to do so."

"Not willingly, no."

"Explain yourself, Teodor Lord Fog Lycaili."

"You are being ... difficult," said Teodor, after a moment.

"And you are diverting the conversation, Lord Fog."

The gray minotaur nodded, and sat down. "You are aware that Lord Chimes has an unusual gift."

"Percipience. Yes."

Teodor shrugged. "He had a presentiment, that this human should be in my care. And he so ordered, as Council Speaker. I am Lord Fog; I am duty-bound to obey the Council. And ... it is hard to argue with a presentiment. There is no logic, no understanding, nothing to argue. Lord Chimes has had a glimpse of the future, and the most beneficial future pairs this human with me. To override Lord Chimes on such a matter would require a Council vote, and ... to what point? We all know Lord Chimes, if he says such-and-such a path must be taken, then so it is. I would lose the vote, zero to five.

"I see. And ... pardon me, Lord Fog, but I'll just come out and say it. I know you're smarter than I am." The golden minotaur paused.

"I am?"

"You, Lord Fog, are the most brilliant minotaur I've ever had the pleasure of knowing," Luzeil said sincerely. "I learned more about magic from you in two years than I learned during my entire apprenticeship. And you weren't even Lord Fog."

"Well," said Teodor. "I chose to put off my mastership trial."

"Yes, I know about that. Now."

"You do?" Teodor said, sounding displeased.

"Yes. You left ... abruptly. To return to Lord Ember, who retired from public life at that time."

"Yes." Lord Fog's voice had the clear tone of finality to it that indicated he did not intend to continue the conversation.

"You must understand, this caused some curiosity. You were clearly ready for your mastership trials, indeed, it was clear to the Lord of Bones that you would be well-suited to give mastership trials."

"I'm pleased to hear he thought so well of me," Teodor said after a moment. "But I fail to see how ..."

"So it was very odd that you retreated for studies with a now-retired mage."

"He still had much to teach me," Teodor said. "If there is a point to this discussion -- which I admit is personally painful to me, I would ask you reach it quickly."

"It is thought by some -- not I, I should say -- that you manipulated and used Lord Ember during that time."

"A lie," Teodor said.

"Then you have a different explanation?"

"I owe Ouroborous no explanation," Teodor said. "And I see no reason to provide one."

"Anthante -- forgive me, but you did ask for blunt -- and Orox fear you might ... affect their minds. If you would do such a thing to your mentor."

"I did not do so," said Teodor, stiffly. "I trust that is satisfactory?"

"To me. Not to Anthante and Orox."

Teodor was silent for a moment. "If my word of honor is insufficient, even when vouched for by another mage ..."

"Don't, Teodor," warned Luzeil. "I know you can appear honest even when lying. I know I can't vouch for you as another mage might, because ..."

"I see. Then can you vouch for me as Luzeil, and is that ..."

"They demand I vouch for you as the Lord of Tongs."

"So exactly how may I satisfy you, My Lord of Tongs?"

"Tell me the truth. I'm certain there's an honorable explanation, I just need to hear it."

"I want your word that the story goes no further -- on your word and theirs -- than your fellow mages. As of now. That it will not be committed to paper, nor passed down to apprentices, or even shared with new Lords. I will make my explanation, and then -- I want it forgotten and lost."

"I will hear the story under that condition, but I do not know that it will satisfy my honor to do so," Luzeil replied.

"If it do not, then I want your word to share it with nobody, ever. And you may contact Lord Chimes to tell them I am not acceptable as a liaison."

"Agreed," said the other minotaur.

"Lord Ember fell to a sudden attack of dementia," Teodor said. "My extended apprenticeship was in fact the first part of my Council service, for his magic remained intact." Gray eyes closed. "We -- I -- wanted to spare him and his memory that knowledge. Only the Lycaili Council knew. Knows. We wanted to leave him ... the dignity we could." Gray eyes opened again, and Teodor took a deep breath.

"Does that satisfy you? Is your curiosity satisfied? Do you want the details of how a truly great minotaur ..." Teodor broke off. "No. I am sorry. You do not inquire out of prurience."

"I do not," the golden minotaur said. "We ... your secret was well kept. Of all the scenarios discussed, that was not one of them."

"Good," said Teodor, with a finality. "Is the Lord of Tongs satisfied?"

"He is," Luzeil said, and sat in one of the chairs. "Luz, on the other hand ..."

"What?" asked Teodor, as if he didn't trust himself to say more than that.

"You left."

Teodor turned away. "I left," he echoed. "Without saying a word, without sending word, without ... yes. The immediate departure without explanation I can lay on Lord Chimes, for so he commanded. That I did not send word ... I did not trust myself to write you. It ... it was not an easy time for me, Luz. I'm sorry. And then ... I was Lord Fog. At the time of those border incidents. Do you remember?"

"Oh. That was when you were recognized ... yes. I do." Luzeil turned his head slightly, until a golden horn tapped the wall. "You were behind them, then?"

Teodor looked up. "I? Personally?"

"No, I mean your Clan."

"Not that I was told," Teodor said. "And I think I would have been, given the situation. I'd -- we'd -- assumed it was Ourobouros, but if you're asking me ..."

"Well, somebody fooled us good, then," Luzeil said, reminiscing.

"Nearly!" said Teodor, more angrily.

"Calm down, calm down. It was long ago."

"It was," Teodor said, but without the other's calm. It sounded almost brooding, and Dacien started, realizing he'd forgotten to, as Teodor had asked, try to keep track of him while the gray minotaur was gone. He extended his senses, now, something that seemed that much easier every time he did it. The golden minotaur exuded a powerful sense of fragrant smoke, a spicy and almost tantalizing aroma, but the cool gray chill of Teodor overwhelmed it easily. It was harder to follow their conversation, but not too much harder. Interestingly, the feel of their magic changed subtly as they talked.

"I wasn't sure what to think, when Lord Chimes told me you were coming," Luzeil continued, the black-smoke-spice rushing out into the cool gray. "I hoped ... and then you showed up at camp this evening. I was hoping ..."

"That I'd come back to you?" asked Teodor, very quietly. "If only I could, Luz."

"But you haven't," the other minotaur said regretfully.

"I have responsibilities," Teodor said, and Dacien could hear -- and feel, in that strange gray chill, too, the pain in his words. "The thing is impossible. A Lord of Lycaili, and a Lord of Ourobouros? Bad enough Lycaili and Ourobouros, but lords? I don't have to ask you to resign, and come to Mistingrise. You wouldn't."

"And you wouldn't resign, and come to our labyrinth, would you?"

"Would you respect me if I did?"

"Yes," Luzeil said intensely. "I would."

"And would the other Lords? Or would the whispers start, that I'd entranced you as I entranced Lord Ember, that you were my eyes, ears, hands in Ourobouros, that my true loyalty was to Lycaili, that I was secretly plotting your downfall?"

"No," said Luzeil.

The gray minotaur just smiled, sadly. "Ah. You still haven't figured out my trick, have you?"

"No," the golden one said again. "I haven't. You're right."

"I'm sorry," Teodor said. "And ... I couldn't leave my clan, anymore than you could. Before I was Lord Fog, I might have dreamed that I could but now, that I am, that ... my clan depends on me, I know I could never do it. I'm sorry again, for thinking I could."

"Oh, I knew you wouldn't," Luzeil said more briskly. "I never took that seriously. I knew you meant it, I just knew ... it would change."

"Ah," said Teodor. "Good. That ... that was one of the things, the many things, that was bothering me. I ... I wasn't sure what I felt, when Ruus said you were in the army."

"I'd hope that would please you!"

"It scared me, actually," Teodor admitted. "I almost told Ruus to send Lord Winter, that I was too tired after dealing with the weather."

"Really?"

"Almost. I couldn't do it, though."

"Why not?"

"I have recently had a lesson -- a series of lessons, actually -- about integrity. I would have been ashamed of myself to avoid you."

"You?" Luzeil asked almost incredulously. "You found someone with more ... integrity than YOU? I'm astounded! Who is this paragon? Is it Osaze? I'd heard you and he were together."

Teodor said nothing, and finally Luzeil continued. "Well. You deserve someone ... like that. Osaze is ... respected in Ourobouros."

"I am not with Osaze in that sense," Teodor said, "although he would be a fine mate. But he is not ready for that, and ..." Teodor paused.

"And?"

"The next time I see my friend with the integrity, I will make a very particular point of telling him that I now deeply understand just how incredibly hard it was to make the admissions he made to me. I'm not sure I have the same strength."

Dacien wanted to shout out, you do, but he didn't.

"You obviously want to tell me," Luzeil said lightly.

"Yes," said Teodor. "I would not be with Osaze because the one I long to be with is you, Luz. Still. Always. However impossible it is." The gray minotaur smiled.

Luzeil just stared at Teodor. "I'm sorry, Teodor," he said. "It is impossible."

"I know," agreed Teodor.

"I'm with Jervais. You know that, don't you?"

"I know," Teodor repeated. "And I with you -- and he -- great joy. I would actually like to meet him, sometime."

Luzeil shook his head. "You'd like him. You have a great heart, Te. I can't believe there's room in it only for me."

Teodor smiled. "I'm certain I would like him."

The golden minotaur glanced back at the bed, and sighed. "I don't suppose ..."

"It would not be a good idea," Teodor said. "I offered you the bath."

"And I promised to help bring your stuff. So ... you pack."

"I haven't unpacked," Teodor admitted. "I just came in, and went out again."

"So that's just decorative," Luzeil said, pointing towards Dacien.

"A feral," Teodor said. "But a quick learner. He came from Mog Ford."

"You broke a human mage to the leash in ... what, ten days?"

"Eight days, and ... he's only been a mage for," and Teodor was quiet for a moment. "Seven days, yes."

"You broke ..."

"Enough," said Teodor. "He's at a sensitive point in his training, and I do not want to leave an uncontrolled mage alone."

"No," Luzeil agreed. "Of course not." He stared at Dacien, who quickly lowered his eyes. "He's not used to a leash, is he?"

"Of course not," snapped Teodor. "Didn't I just tell you he was feral nine days ago?"

"And still a little bit feral, I would imagine."

"Of course he is," said Teodor.

"Doesn't know how to behave on a leash."

"He knows the basics," said Teodor. "Which is all he'll need. I have no intentions of showing him. Ever."

"That's what you think. Anthante is an enthusiast. Even if you don't put your slave here through his paces, Anthante will still want to talk shop with you."

"Oh," groaned Teodor.

"Ever been to a show?"

"No. Nor a fight. Orox still ..."

"Yes. It's how they met, actually."

"Oh," groaned Teodor again.

"S'not so bad," Luzeil said, with a grin. "Takes the edge off Anthante, when Orox is done with him. He's practically friendly, afterwards."

"The point to the leash was to make certain he wasn't bothered," Teodor said, teeth gritted. "Go. Take your bath," and he pointed to the washroom.

Luzeil rose gracefully, and his clothes -- fell off him as the non-scent of fragrant smoke billowed out from him. "There," he said. Dacien, eyes down, glanced quickly up -- trusting that Luzeil would be watching Teodor. The minotaur was golden, from the fringe around his hooves up his massive legs to an orderly golden snarl of pelt around his penis. His stomach was flat, almost concave, with a hint of the muscle beneath it obscured by the soft golden pelt. His chest was massive; huge pectorals limned in the fine gold fur that covered all of him. The bovine head was -- as Dacien had expected -- looking straight at Teodor, the horns reflecting yet more gold from the candles in the room.

"Am I ..."

"Yes," Teodor said, interrupting. "Do not tease me, Luz. Please."

The golden minotaur dropped his pose, and walked into the washroom. The door closed, and a moment later, the soft sound of running water started.

And faded, in a blast of gray chill, to silence.

"Dacien-Apprentice," Teodor said. "We will join the Ourobouros force tonight; I have been invited to stay in Luz's tent, and I have accepted. You will stay there, too, tonight. The army is where it should be, and we will be staying tomorrow. After that ... we will see. I had thought to keep you with me in camp, but ... that may not be the wisest course of action."

"Shows, Master?" Dacien said.

The minotaur sighed. "Yes. Humans are exhibited, judged in their form and obedience. It is not something I participate in, nor something you will have to endure."

"Fights, Master?"

Teodor frowned. "They are not permitted in Lycaili. But other clans will match humans -- usually feral humans -- against one another in combat. Injuries are common, and the losing human often suffers some predetermined punishment for losing, as an incentive to win. It is a barbarous and dishonorable practice."

"That both Orox and Anthante indulge in. Master."

"Yes." The minotaur glanced at the washroom door. "I did not know that Orox was involved in bloodsports. Or perhaps he wasn't, when I knew him. Or perhaps he hid it, knowing that I felt strongly about them." Teodor shrugged. "It matters not at all to me. I do not want either of those two near you."

"No, Master," agreed Dacien. "I ... I know what Lord Tongs feels like."

"The Lord of Tongs," Teodor corrected. "Feels like?"

"His magic, I mean. It's ... like smoke. Spicy smoke. It smells ... well, earthy, with a sting to it. It's hard to describe, but it's ... well, distinctive." Something made Dacien blurt out, "Very male," in addition.

"Yes," agreed Teodor, looking at him carefully. "He's ... hmmm. Could you tell if he tried to do something, do you think?"

"Like when he dropped his clothes off?"

"That ... yes. You're saying you can, then."

"Yes, Master. Clearly. It's ... well, I can."

"Isn't that interesting," said Teodor, more to himself. "Do you know what his signature is?"

"No, Master.

"It's the scent of smoke. Everything gets ... infused with heavy, spicy smoke. And ... do you smell any smoke now?"

"No, Master. But ..."

"I'm right, I'm certain of it," Teodor said, with a satisfied smile. "That's your signature, Apprentice."

"What?"

"You suppress our signatures. Nothing went gray at Osaze's house -- well, not counting the incident, which was clearly a special case. You've been suppressing my signature ever since that carriage ride. And Trand's. And Lord Chimes. And now ... the Lord of Tongs. Excellent."

Teodor grinned. "Do you remember when I told you I was a particularly glorious roan?"

"Vaguely ..."

"I'm going to be roan again!" Teodor said with a broad smile. "Maybe." The smile dropped. "It's a strong possibility, anyway. Have I mentioned how much I hate washwater gray?"

"Several times, Master."

Teodor snorted. "Heh. I could have color in my house again, and not just the tiles. I could read books without having the ink bleach away."

"All good things, Master."

"Yes, well," Teodor said, visibly getting control of himself. "If I'm right. If. I might be wrong. Not that I think I'm entirely wrong, but ... some aspect of your signature is the suppression of others. There might be more to it than that."

"That doesn't sound bad to me, Master."

"Bad?" said Teodor. "Most mages hate their signature. The bells drive Lord Chimes wild. I hate the bleaching I cause. The Lord of Tongs doesn't even smell the smoke anymore ... but when we get to his tent, you'll see what I mean. Yours is ... wonderful, both in that it isn't some awful curse you just have to live with, and ... will make you a very popular guest with most mages, trust me."

"Thank you, Master."

"And if that's not enough ..." Teodor paused. "No. I still am not sure of that. We must experiment, verify. But ..."

"Can't you tell me?"

"Noooo," said Teodor. "The problem is, if I tell you, then ... it shapes your expectations. So much of magic is subjective. If I'm wrong, I could confuse you and your perceptions and that in turn would shape what you do, and it would take much longer to back out of a bad guess. Guessing is very bad in magic, very bad indeed. A guess can shape what you see to the point where you see what you want."

"I'm not sure I understand that," Dacien said, after a moment.

"You needn't, not yet. All right. I need to release the spell of quiet," and the hush that had gripped the room faded, replaced by the sounds of insects, and some splashing from the next room. "There aren't, unfortunately, baths in camp."

"That's fine," Dacien said. "There aren't any in an Imperial army either."

Teodor shook his head. "It won't matter, Dac... ah. Hmmm. It won't matter. I am a water-affined mage. I can rig something up for us."

"I'm actually more concerned about being cold, Master."

Teodor shook his head. "I have spells for that, too," he said. "Years with Lord Ember."

The door swung open, and Luzeil walked out, toweling himself off vigorously. "Years with Lord Ember? Is that the punchline of a joke?"

Teodor waved a hand languidly, and the water -- streamed -- out of the other's fur. "No. It was a question about temperature."

"Elegant," said Luzeil, watching the water pool around his hooves. "Talking isn't allowed on-leash, though." Luzeil walked over to Dacien. "It's not going to work. You should have left him with one of your fellows."

"Lord Chimes had a presentiment," Teodor said tonelessly. "I have to have him."

"Why you?"

"If I knew that, perhaps I wouldn't have to have him," Teodor said. "And ... his name is Dacien."

"Name ..." Luzeil shook his head. "He still responds to his name? And you're dragging him around on a leash? Are you crazy?" The golden minotaur's voice edged up, and up, and up, until the sound echoed off the walls. "Are you crazy?"

"Don't shout at me," Teodor said, "or him. My Lord of Tongs. This human is mine, and you will not shout at him, nor offer him threat, nor even the suggestion of such."

"I ..." Luzeil fell silent. "This is ... he's totally feral, isn't he. And he's a mage. You've got a feral mage following you around."

"You could describe the situation that way, if you wanted to be alarmist."

"I, too, have responsibilities, Lord Fog!" He pointed at Dacien. "That is ..."

"Mine," Teodor said again. "Mine." Teodor closed his eyes for a moment. "Very well. My Lord of Tongs, you will either assist me in keeping Dacien-Human concealed in your camp, or you will inform Lord Chimes that I am not acceptable as liaison. And you will not mention -- to anyone -- that this feral mage human still has a name. Ever. To anyone. I warn you, though, Lord Winter cannot be here any sooner than sixteen days, and we have no other air-affined mages."

"He will not enter Ourobouros lands."

"I will not bring a feral human mage into Ourobouros lands, nor knowingly permit such a thing," agreed Teodor.

Luzeil looked at Dacien. "A mage. You are so ... well. It's your business. Yours and Lord Chimes, I suppose. You're the only one I know crazy enough to try something like this."

Teodor shrugged nonchalantly. "I do not need to defend myself or my actions to you, My Lord of Tongs. But to calm you, please remember that he is still an uncontrolled mage. His powers are not yet manifest. He has had, so far, a single session as a lens. And he will not have another, not until this is over, simply because I do not have the time. Does that reassure you, somewhat?"

"I can't believe you let him keep his name," Luzeil said.

"It was a spur of the moment decision, much like telling you what it was," Teodor said. "Sometimes one must trust one's intuition."

"Percipience is not your gift."

"I did not speak of percipience, but intuition. I think it was the right decision. Besides ..."

"Besides what?"

"He has the option of surrendering his name to me."

Luzeil stared at Teodor for a moment, and then laughed. "Ah. I see. That explains everything. Sure, I'll help you. Why not?"

Teodor just looked at him questioningly.

"You are crazy," the gold minotaur explained calmly. "Totally, absolutely, mad. What chance do I have against that?"

Teodor sighed. "Thank you, Luz. Besides ..."

"Do I want to know?"

"Sometimes intuition does supply a right answer."

Moving from the inn to the Ourobouros camp was, between the two mages, simple. Teodor's (and by extension, Dacien's) luggage consisted of a single chest, and the Ourobouros mage simply gestured at it, and it hoisted itself into the air, and followed them the mile or so down the road to the camp itself. The Lord of Tongs had no trouble passing the sentry, even with Teodor and Dacien. Dacien felt exposed, naked but for leash and sandals (he hadn't asked if he could wear them, and neither Teodor nor Luzeil had commented). He did draw a glance or two from minotaurs, both in town and now in camp, but he was ignored other than that. If that was due to the leash, then he was grateful for it. Somehow, though, wearing the leash in front of minotaurs -- rather than other humans -- was easier. Dacien wasn't sure why, but ... the intense sense of humiliation he'd felt back at House Wide was lacking.

Once he'd gotten used to the almost contradictory sensation of warmth that emanated from Teodor's spell -- which came along with Teodor's usual gray chill -- Dacien realized that the 'chill' sensation had nothing to do with temperature. Still, if he wasn't paying close attention, it was easy to confuse them. Here and there, he could sense the spiced smoke scent of Luzeil's -- the Lord of Tongs's -- various spells.

Most of the minotaurs in the camp -- almost all longhorns, like Luzeil, ignored all of them, but two came toward them with intent. Dacien guessed that one of them was the General of the camp, Orox, and the other might be Anthante. They, like the Lord of Tongs, wore fairly simple brown uniforms. Dacien didn't see any rank insignia, and wondered how the minotaurs could tell who ranked who, and then he wondered if the minotaurs even had 'rank' the way an Imperial army might. They had to have something; the force was called an 'army' and it was led by 'generals,' but he'd never heard Teodor refer to any other ranks.

He glanced at Teodor, but ... he'd have to ask later. The gray minotaur was watching the approach carefully.

"Tongs!" said the first one -- a deep brown pelt mottled with darker, almost black blotches that faded into his pelt. The other, his pelt a light brown stippled with white, shook his head and slowed down.

Teodor whispered quietly to Luzeil. "Is that General Anthante?"

"Yes," the golden minotaur said, quietly.

"Tongs!"

"Not very polite," murmured Teodor.

"No. He's not very popular, actually."

"Tongs!" The brown minotaur yelled again.

"General Anthante," Luzeil said. "I can hear you, General."

"Did you get his word? Are you satisfied?"

"I did, and I am."

"As the Lord of Tongs?" insisted Anthante.

"Yes."

"Good," the minotaur said, and shifted his attention to Teodor, and Dacien. Unlike the other minotaurs Dacien had seen, this one looked at him like ... like he was for sale. He risked a peek at Teodor, and saw the gray eyes glittering with anger.

"Excuse me, My Lord of Tongs," Teodor said, no hint of that anger seeping into his deep voice. "But we were going to your tent?"

"So we were, Lord Fog," Luzeil replied. "This way."

"Wait," Anthante said. "Aren't you going to introduce me to the mindbender?"

Luzeil stiffened, and the white-on-brown one flinched. Dacien felt chill gray start pouring off Teodor, and the gray eyes held only decision. "If you are referring to me, General Anthante, I suggest you draw a circle, or retract your last words."

"Anthante, apologize to our guest," the white-on-brown one said, with an undertone of urgency.

"Allow me, as the Lord of Tongs, to say what a remarkably prudent course of action that would be," Luzeil said quietly.

The brown-and-black minotaur grimaced. "Huh. Don't like the truth, eh?"

"I do not practice coercion," Teodor said softly. "It is dishonorable. As are your words, when your own mage has attested to you that the slander you accuse me with is merely slander, borne on jealous tongues. Or do you offer him disrespect as well? And, General Anthante, I repeat my request. Draw a circle, or retract your accusation."

"I'm not convinced he's entirely unbiased, Teodor," said the brown minotaur.

"I am Lord Fog, and for the last time, General Anthante, draw a circle or apologize."

"To a mindbender?"

"Slave, close your eyes, and cover your ears, please," Teodor said softly, and Dacien obeyed.

"Please ..." Anthante said, in a biting tone, but his statement was cut off by a curiously muffled boom and a flash of blue-white light that burned Dacien's eyes even through his closed eyes. The human blinked them open, trying to clear them of the sudden tears. The white-on-brown minotaur had been knocked down, and Luzeil was shaking his head.

Where Anthante had been was a smoking pile of ... fur? Burnt meat? It was roughly the shape and mass of a minotaur, and ... the horns, oddly, looked like they hadn't suffered any damage at all. Dacien took a step back, stunned, as the stink of burnt flesh and hair assailed his nostrils. The smell reminded him of Mog Ford, and he concentrated on not throwing up.

"May we proceed to your tent, My Lord of Tongs?" Teodor asked.

Luzeil tapped his ears, and shook his head.

The gray minotaur nodded, and gestured around the camp, where other minotaur were starting to stare. Luzeil tapped Teodor gently, and made a beckoning motion.

The looks and stared turned increasingly hostile as they made their way to Luzeil's tent. It was bigger than Dacien expected, and a dark hanging screen obscured the back.

"I can't believe you did that," Luzeil said, finally. "That was rash, friend."

"He was looking for a confrontation," Teodor said, after a moment.

"I don't think he was looking for that."

"Undoubtedly not," said Teodor. "But why was an Orobouros general looking for a confrontation with the Lycaili liaison in the first place? I confess that worries me greatly."

"You don't look it," Luz said.

"Practice," sighed the gray minotaur. "Far too much practice sitting in council meetings listening to the most rabidly insane nonsense passing as policy discussion ..." he broke off as a knock sounded at the door. "Lord Fog! My Lord of Tongs!"

Teodor nodded at Luzeil's tilted head, and the golden minotaur called out, "Please come in, General Orox!"

"I would like an explanation, Lord Fog," said the white-on-brown minotaur.

"As would I," Teodor replied coldly. "Whatever would possess a presumably sensible minotaur to walk up to a clan lord not of their clan, and, after accusing him of practicing mental coercion, ignore a formal challenge three times? I had thought I was a guest here. I had thought I was due some level of courtesy, and quite truthfully, from my previous encounters with Ourobouros, I would have told anyone that I would doubtlessly receive as honorable and gracious a welcome as anyone might expect. And this is not by a drunken or battlemad warrior, but a war_lord_ -- the second in command of your forces, if I am told correctly. I might be inclined to overlook this boorishness, but I am -- as you pointed out, Lord Fog. I am here not as myself, but as a representative of Lycaili, and so the insult is not merely to me, but to my Clan.

"However," Teodor continued, "in the interests of political amity, I will overlook the incident. I will not banish you from Lycaili territory. Such is not in the Lycaili interest, nor Ourobouros interest, if I judge correctly."

"You just killed my second!"

Teodor was silent for a moment. "He left me no choice, General. You are, as perhaps he was, laboring under the recollection of Teodor the apprentice. I am Lord Fog, and what Teodor was happy to overlook, a clan lord cannot."

"You go too far, Lord Fog."

"Perhaps we could leave this topic," Teodor said, "and return to it when both of us are less angry. Because I assure you, General, I am furious that I should be forced to act so upon setting foot in your camp!"

"Tongs," started Orox, but the golden minotaur shook his head.

"We both saw it, Orox," Luzeil said. "Anthante pushed him. And he's right. He is Lord Fog, it was an inexcusable thing. If a Lycaili warlord did that to me, I'd ... well, I couldn't hit him with a lightning bolt, but I'd kill him."

"No. Contact Lord Chimes, and tell him ... I cannot have this one. He is ... not acceptable."

Teodor sighed, and, for a moment, was looking directly into Dacien's face. A great gray eye snapped shut and open again -- so fast Dacien wasn't even sure he'd seen it. "General Orox, I ... I beg your forgiveness."

"What?" said the white-on-brown minotaur, the quiver of his horns stilling. "You what?"

"Clearly," said Teodor. "It must be that ... I must have -- inadvertently, please believe me -- have offended your second-in-command, General Anthante."

"I can't see how," Orox said, pausing.

"Such treatment of me could scarcely be explained any other way," Teodor said. "So ... I apologize. If only General Anthante had explained, I'm quite sure this misunderstanding might have been avoided. Surely you cannot claim it was not a misunderstanding?"

The General looked like he was working through the triple negative carefully before committing himself. "It certainly was a misunderstanding," he said, finally. "At the very least. I ..."

"No, no," said Teodor, somberly. "I apologize. I was hasty. I somehow misconstrued General Anthante's uniquely witty repartee of calling me a mindbender as a serious insult. I've never heard it used otherwise, after all."

"No," said General Orox.

"And he in turn must have misconstrued my formal challenge," Teodor said. "Unfortunate. Most unfortunate. I give you my word as Lord Fog, General, I will not permit it to happen again. Can you forgive me, General?"

"I will consider it," the General said, after a moment.

"I can ask nothing more," Teodor said. "Perhaps ... I could leave my slave here, and accompany you to your tent. And we could discuss this in more detail. I know while I was with General Paracelk there were a number of small things his force needed -- clean water, dry roads ... all straightforward matters for a water-affined mage. Perhaps there are other things. Veils, for example."

"I see," said General Orox. "Yes. Tongs, bring a bottle of brandy. We'll ... discuss this in detail. My tent. Five minutes."

"Thank you," Teodor said, with a slight smile, as the General left the tent.

"We better follow," Luzeil said, sounding worried.

"By and by," said Teodor calmly. "Is there food here? My human hasn't eaten."

"In the back room," the golden minotaur said, thoughtfully. "He's welcome to whatever is there." Luzeil started to add something, and then stopped.

"Thank you," said Teodor, and he turned to Dacien, took a step forward, and unfastened the leash. "There. If you need me for any reason, put the leash back on. Hold it in your hand, and go to General Orox's tent. There is a green flag with a snake swallowing its tail marking it -- that flag follows the General, and I will be with him."

"Yes, Master."

"It would be better if it could wait, of course," Teodor said. "Much."

"I understand, Master," Dacien said.

Luzeil sighed. "Since I've agreed to help Teodor in this nonsane ruse, the right response to your master, when in company, is simply 'Yes, Master'. Or 'No, Master.' Please don't get creative." The golden minotaur glowered at Dacien for a moment. "It's disturbing."

"Thank you for the pointer, Luz," Teodor said. "If all goes well, I will be back late -- very late, and we will likely be marching tomorrow -- you'll be in a baggage cart, of course, don't worry about it."

Luzeil ostentatiously suppressed another shudder. "Te, can we go?"

The gray minotaur sighed. "Yes. I am sorry, Luz." Teodor turned around, and followed the other mage out of the tent. "It is that I am being ..." and his voice faded. Dacien could feel, however, a chill gray something wrap itself quietly around the tent. The effect might have been his imagination, but he thought the sound from outside the camp was muffled. Apparently, Teodor was not leaving him completely on his own. Somehow, that made him feel a little better.

The tent itself was fabric, neatly tied around a complex set of interlocking wood poles. Although it blocked the light almost completely with the fine, dense weave Dacien had seen in other minotaur fabrics, it was nowhere near so thick as Imperial canvas would have been; more the weight of heavy winter gear. The entrance itself was a single panel of fabric, tied against another of the wooden support poles. A second fitted sheet of fabric -- not quite so heavy as the exterior -- sectioned off the front, from what seemed to be a bigger section. There wasn't much in this part; a heavier, rougher brown tarp as floor, a small desk that looked like it collapsed, and a couple of chairs that were constructed much as the tent: fabric suspended between poles. Camp furniture, if a little better constructed -- and larger -- than what Dacien would expect to see in an Imperial camp, although, if that fabric could truly bear a minotaur's weight, it must be much stronger than it looked.

The door, such as it was, was just another panel of fabric, and Dacien untied it, stepped through, and refastened it. This section was a little larger, but not much. It had room for a pole-and-fabric bed, a table with a number of napkin-covered dishes, a chair, and a rug.

Facing him and kneeling on the rug in a position that Dacien recognized all too well as sit, was a naked minotaur with a heavy leather collar similar to his own. The minotaur's pelt was a pristine white mottled with several large black blotches, and his horns -- they looked they should have been long, like Luzeil's horns were, or Anthante's, or Orox's. His horns, or what was left of them, started straight out from his head, for about a handlength. At that point, they looked like they had been sawed off, and then the ends rounded off and polished smooth. Something about the truncated horns deeply disturbed him.

The minotaur's face lifted slowly into a smile as Dacien looked at him. "Welcome. Are you hungry?"

"Uh," said Dacien. "Yes. Yes, I am. Sir."

"I am not a Sir to anyone," the minotaur said quietly, the smile not changing. "Please do not call me such. Both of us could be punished for that."

"What should I ... are you a ... I'm sorry. I don't want to offend you, but ..."

The minotaur's shoulders shook in an expression Dacien did not understand. "I am past the point of offense, human. The Lord of Tongs calls me Five and I call him 'Master.' It is probably best if you call me Five too, but I am no longer invested in a personal designation." The minotaur stared at the human for a moment, and then continued. "Yes, I am his slave."

"I'm ..." started Dacien, and then stopped.

"Hungry? Not hungry?"

"A little hungry," he admitted.

Dacien was looking directly at Five, and he still didn't see the minotaur rise; he thought he saw the minotaur moving to the table, though. "What and when did you eat last?"

"Lunch, sandwiches. Why?"

"Meat, cheese, bread," murmured Five. "What would you like? There are apples, black bread -- it's pretty coarse, though. Maybe some cheese ... soft? Hard? It's good with the apples. There's water, but brandy would be a bad ..."

"I can get that ..."

"Oh," said Five. The minotaur glanced at the table, and then back at Dacien, and then back at the table. "Would you rather get your food yourself?" The minotaur smiled. "Our masters are both out, and ... neither of us have duties. I thought ... I was thinking we might get better acquainted. But I was also thinking that ... well, that you would be more accustomed to this. Even if you'd never seen a minotaur slave before."

"It was that obvious?"

Five just lifted his hands in a gesture Dacien interpreted as a yes. "I've seen the reaction before. There aren't many minotaur slaves."

"How ..." and Dacien paused, unsure how to ask the question. "May I ask how a minotaur came to be ... in your position?"

"A slave, you mean," said Five, shaking his head a little.

"Well. Yes," Dacien said uncomfortably.

Five looked at the table. "Eat, if you're hungry."

"Right," said Dacien, walking over to the table. Under the first napkin was a plate of precisely cut cheese wedges laid out in the form of an intricate flower arranged around several tiny red-green apples. Another revealed thick cuts of hard-cured sausage. Under another were slices of thick black bread. Dacien took bread and the apples -- surprisingly tart -- and a bit of the sausage.

Five watched the human eat for a few minutes. "Enslavement varies by clan; some clans don't permit it at all, others will use it as a punishment, and others ... do it for their own reasons," he said, after a while. Dacien wondered which one applied to Five. "I haven't thought about this in a long time," the minotaur continued. "It was long ago. I've had four owners, since ..." he fell silent, either thinking or remembering, or deciding what to say. "I was at my clan's college of war," he said. "I wasn't the most outstanding student, but I don't think I was the worst, either. One day toward the end of my fifth year," and the minotaur broke off.

"You wouldn't know what that means. A minotaur usually goes to a war college, again, usually his clan's, for five years to become a warrior, and another eight years to be a warlord. Not everyone who goes for thirteen years ends up a warlord, but ... many do. Close to my becoming a warrior, then, for a clan that ..." he paused, and then continued. "For a clan that I do not belong to," he said firmly.

"I was called to see the master of the school -- a warlord. A General, actually. I went into his study, and there were three minotaurs, not of my ... of my old clan. Former clan. And the General. And he told me that I had been sold, that I was not of ... my former clan anymore."

"It took them very little time to restrain me," Five said, his voice growing distant. "And then they took me to my first Master who ... who taught me how to be a slave." The huge brown eyes refocused on Dacien. "And you?"

"I ... I was captured at Mog Ford," Dacien said, "and ... given to Lord Fog. Who ... who is teaching me to be a slave, I suppose."

"How long have you been with him?"

"Uh," Dacien paused to count the days. They came to surprisingly few; that first night at Mistingrise, five days in Maze, two on the road ... eight? "Eight."

"Eight years? That's ... a long time for a human. Or are you just new to a leash?"

"Eight days," Dacien said. "Not years. And yes, I just saw a leash ... three days ago."

"Oh," the minotaur said, blinking in surprise. "Your master brought you on campaign after eight days. He must really like you."

The thought of explaining the entire complex situation to someone who ... who might understand it from his point of view was tempting, but Dacien decided against it. "Something like that," he agreed. Teodor did like him, after all; the gray minotaur had said as much. If there were other reasons, then there were other reasons, too. Teodor did like him.

He'd known, of course. Teodor did like him. But ... suddenly he felt like he knew it in a way he hadn't before. "He does, doesn't he," Dacien said, almost awed as he thought about the risks the minotaur had -- was -- running for him.

"I'd say so," Five said, wistfully. "It's really good when you have a master like that."

"You don't?"

Five looked at him for a moment, and smiled again. "Not at the moment. The Lord of Tongs brought me on campaign because I can keep up with a minotaur army; a human servant couldn't, and ... he wasn't willing to expose any of his humans to an army. But I have had Masters who ... were good. Really good."

"Who?"

"My second master was Vidius, Warlord of Clan Nepenthe. And my third master was the Lord of Tongs, of clan Ourobouros. He left me to the then-Lord of Dolmens, Master Luzeil, along with his title." Five looked pensive.

"Only eight days. I remember my eighth day," Five said. The minotaur looked across at the human, almost worried. "Are you ... all right?"

"I guess," Dacien said. "I mean, it's ... it's been strange. And it's been ... no, it's just been strange. Really strange."

The white-and-black minotaur nodded. "What's strange?"

"It's ..." Dacien thought for a moment. The mage stuff was strange, but he'd already decided not to discuss that. "Everything's different, even the stuff that's the same. The food; I mean, we eat pretty much the same things in the Empire, but ... it's different. Even the apples," he held up the apple he was eating, "tastes ... different. Not worse, just ..."

"Different," said Five, thoughtfully. "That makes sense, I suppose." He got up out of his sitting position, and walked over to the bed. "May I ask a blunt question? I don't want to offend you, but I am curious about something."

"Sure," Dacien said. "Is there some water, or ..." he broke off, as the minotaur -- moved, somehow, faster than Dacien could see, from the bed to the table. It was almost as if he'd vanished from the one place to reappear in the other. Five pulled a shiny blue pitcher covered with drops of water from under the table

"Water and pomegranate juice," Five said, pouring it into a mug, and holding it out to the human. "Chilled."

"How do you do that?" asked Dacien.

"I don't know, really. The Lord of Tongs did something to the pitcher, as long as it's touching the ground it chills down and cools ..."

"No, I know how that works. How do you move like that!"

Five paused, hefting the pitcher. "You know how this works? How do you know that?" the minotaur said, intently. "I don't know how it works. It just does."

"Uh," said Dacien, suddenly aware of all the things he didn't want to talk about. "Lord Fog explained it to me. In a ... hot pool. He did ... pretty much the same thing." He took a drink of the watered juice -- it was mostly water, but with a pleasant light taste of pomegranate, and the cold was refreshing; both in and of itself and how it reminded him of Lord Fog.

"Oh," said the minotaur. "Your Master must really like you," he said. "Even the old Lord of Tongs never explained anything to me." He stared at Dacien, almost broodingly, for a moment, before the smile came back. "And that's good for you." Whatever had disturbed Five seemed gone.

"The speed. It's a ... warrior art. Tempus." Five paused for a moment. "I'm not sure I can tell you the how of it. It's a ... kind of way you move." He blinked. "My instructors at school had a lot more to say about it, but ... I think I've forgotten it. I was just starting to learn when ... when my course of instruction changed. Tempus masters can move like that much longer. Masters can sustain that speed for minutes. They can even fight like that," Five said. "My first owner was a tempus master, but he wasn't interested in teaching me." He looked up. "Does that answer your question? Your Master might tell you more, if you asked him."

"No, that answers ... a lot of questions, actually," Dacien said. Certainly it explained how the minotaurs had just cut through the humans arrayed against them. They hadn't had a chance. Any more than the current force had a chance. Only ...

Dacien thrust the thought away. "But you wanted to ask me something."

"Yes," Five said. "Are you adjusted to sex with minotaurs?"

"I ..." started Dacien, and then he just stopped, frozen by the question. "What ... do you mean by adjusted."

"Maybe it's the wrong word," Five said. "But humans who ... aren't in day-to-day contact with minotaurs often have some issues with it." The minotaur turned his smile onto Dacien, full-force. "And you've only been with Lord Fog for eight days. But from what you've said about your Master, it sounds like ... you've made that adjustment. So I thought I'd ask ..." the minotaur faltered as he saw the expression on Dacien's face. "Maybe I shouldn't have. I didn't mean to upset you. I'm sorry."

"It's ..." Dacien said. "It's complicated."

"That's fine," said Five, "I shouldn't have asked."

"No, I don't mind," Dacien said. "It's just that ... I suppose I'm still getting used to it. I mean, you -- minotaurs, I mean -- seem to have a more, I don't know, more ..."

"We're more open about sex than humans," the minotaur said. "Yes. Sex between two minotaurs doesn't have the consequences that sex between humans can, and our creators apparently wanted it that way. So we've adjusted to it ... differently, I guess."

"What do you know about the creators?" Dacien asked eagerly.

"What everyone knows," said Five. "They created us, humans, wolven, jaguen, centaurs, ... created the world, set us here. And left." The minotaur lifted his hands in a gesture of ignorance. "And that's it."

"What are jaguen? Centaurs?"

"I've never met one," said Five. "Minotaurs are a bull-human hybrid. Jaguen are a cat-human hybrid, like the wolven are wolf-human. Centaurs are horse-human hybrids, but ... they're a little different in that they're hexapedal -- they sort of look like a very small horse with a human torso."

"So the base of everything is human?"

"As far as I know, yes," said Five, cautiously. "You'd do better to ask your Master about it. He'd know much more than I do."

"One more question. Sometimes Lord Fog wants me to call him Teodor. It's very specific, so ... what does that mean, when I'm supposed to use his name?"

"Oh," said Five. "There are three different times when you should use his name -- and he'll let you know. The first is when you're being intimate -- an intimate conversation. In that case, it means you're together as two males, and that rank isn't meaningful in that relationship. It also means that you have the right to say 'no' to him if you want. He's looking for ... someone willing to be intimate. Intimacy isn't something that can truly be forced. The second is for very formal occasions, like being called in front of a tribunal. No ranks are used, again because rank isn't supposed to matter in a tribunal. That's a formal conversation. The third would be for," and Five paused. "I'm not sure how to describe it. Very important conversations. When the matter at hand is so serious that there must be no question or doubt in anyone's mind. Like when I was sold. That's called a nominal conversation." Five paused. "In each case, the conversation starts when the higher-ranked one invites the lower-ranked to address him by name."

"There's a fourth, now that I think about it. Friends can call each other by name. But we don't have to deal with that one."

"Why don't we ..."

"Because slaves don't have names," Five said softly. "You probably think of yourself as -- whatever name you were called before, but you don't really have a name now. You're the slave of Lord Fog, and that's who you are, just as I am the slave of the Lord of Tongs. And that's who I am."

Dacien nodded. "So a minotaur using my -- what was my name -- would be, unusual."

"Unusual? Impossible. It would never happen," said Five, shaking his head. "Slaves have to know what they are -- property of their master, and a name would interfere with that."

"I understand," said Dacien, and for the first time, he thought he did, or at least ... he thought he was starting to understand. "So. About the ... sex."

Five turned his head away. "I said I was sorry."

"I'm not upset," said Dacien. "I ... it's complicated."

"Yes," agreed Five with an odd fervency, although Dacien doubted that what Five meant what he meant.

"I meant," Dacien said, "that I'd like to. It's just that ... I'm still getting used to this ... well, ..."

"Getting fucked?" said Five.

"That too," said Dacien.

"Yes, that can take some time to get used to," said Five, looking back at Dacien with a sly grin. "But, chances are, you'll come to like it. I did. A lot." He gave Dacien a half-moment to think about that before following with, "So how would you feel about fucking a minotaur?"

Dacien just stared for a minute. "I've ..."

"You've never thought about it," Five said, "have you?"

"No," Dacien said, shaking his head in surprise, "I haven't. I mean ... I've been ... trying not to think about it ..."

"Oh," said Five, looking a little disappointed. "All right. I was just hoping, since, my Master is gone, and your Master is gone, we could ... but if you don't want to, then, we ..."

"It's not that," Dacien said. "I guess ... I'm not sure."

Five looked up at the ceiling. "Let me help make up your mind ..." the minotaur said, getting up and walking over to Dacien. "Please. I think you'll like this. I'm not a master, and ... I don't have to act like one."

"What do you mean," asked Dacien, nervously, as Five started untying his shirt. "That you're not a master?"

Five hmmmmd as he continued to disrobe the human. "I mean I don't have to worry about maintaining a proper relationship. I can do whatever ... pleases me." He slipped Dacien's trousers down. "And this pleases me," he murmured, stroking the human gently. He lifted Dacien easily, up into his arms. "As long as it pleases you. Of course." The minotaur walked back, over to the bed, and set the human down. Dacien was about to get up, when something hot, wet, and rough ran up his leg, from the top of his toes to his waist. "Mmmmmm," said the minotaur happily.

The minotaur lapped at his other leg, and then continued up in a hot wet tickle up his chest. Five had the same pine-resin smell that Lord Fog did, but he had a sweeter sense to him, a soothing green chlorophyll smell that tickled his nose. "Salt," murmured the minotaur. "And ..." he kept lapping, until the Dacien was laughing. "There," the minotaur said. "Here. Turn over," and Five rolled Dacien over. "No, I'm not trying to seduce you ... well, I am, but not like that," Five said. "I just ..."

Strong fingers stroked his back experimentally. "Want to relax you," he said. "I'm good at this; my first master had me trained. I got pretty good; used to practice on humans all the time. Really. I'm good."

He was, Dacien had to admit. Strong palms ran up and down his back, and strong fingers pressed down on tight muscles. "There," he whispered. "How's that?"

"Really good," sighed Dacien. "That feels ... really good. Thank you."

"You're welcome," the minotaur said very quietly. "Just relax; let me do the work here. Think of this as my turn." The minotaur continued working, down his arms, kneading his ass, and he continued down, working on the back of the human's legs.

"You are good," Dacien murmured.

"Thank you," Five whispered. "You can turn over, when you're ready." Somehow Dacien managed to flip over.

"Ahhhh," sighed Five. "It looks like you are enjoying this."

"Yes," Dacien said.

The minotaur began running his hands up and around Dacien's chest, gently rubbing the firm muscle around his nipples. The minotaur licked the very tip of the human's glans, and made a happy growling sound as Dacien's shaft jerked in response. The human moaned, and Five responded by diving down on the hard flesh, wrapping his long tongue around it. Dacien gasped as the minotaur's tongue began sliding up and down around him; Five had him thrashing on the bed in short order.

The minotaur brought him to the edge -- and stopped. "Five," Dacien gasped. "Oh, Five, don't stop," he said.

"Stop?" asked Five huskily. "We've just started." The minotaur laid down on the human, holding him, kissing him, his tongue still tasting of pine and chlorophyll and Dacien's own salty fluids, and Five rolled himself over, so that Dacien was on top of him. The minotaur pulled his legs back, letting the human settle between them. "I want you," Five said. "Please. Hard. Take me. Fuck me!"

Dacien positioned himself carefully, and slowly eased himself into the minotaur. "Harder," begged Five. "I want to ... YES!" he howled. "Oh, yes," he moaned. "Fuck me. Fuck me." Dacien thrust; his first tentative pushes growing harder and deeper under the urging of the moaning Five. The minotaur moved back against up, moved up to meet him, panting harder and harder. Sensation rushed through Dacien; the feeling of thrusting, it was as if all the masculinity Dacien had feared he'd lost was there, ramming into the minotaur, making the minotaur for these few glorious moments his.

The minotaur was hot, burning hot, as Dacien slipped in and out of his tight opening. Five must have greased himself, or done something, as he slipped almost effortlessly in and out. "You feel great, wonderful, oh ... hot, tight," Dacien said. "Take it, you beautiful bull, yessssssssss!"

"Take ... my ... horns," panted Five, bucking up onto Dacien. "Grip them ... hard! Hard!"

Dacien grabbed the two truncated horns, and pulled the minotaur up into him.

Five lowed; that was the only word for the deep low loud moan; his eyes were glazed with pleasure and desire. The minotaur was somewhere beyond words, just the hungry low sound of lust, mixing with Dacien's own growls. Beyond the pure physical joy of the exercise, Dacien just felt male, pounding himself onto the soft pelt and strong muscles of the minotaur, tugging Five's head up to him, and somehow, Five managed to reach out with his huge tongue, and lick the human's chest. The rough, raspy flesh teased at Dacien's nipples, licking up the droplets of sweat and leaving a chlorophyll-pine scent behind. Five gasped something out, that might have been 'salt,' but it might not have been. The minotaur's eyes were open, wide open, the pupils dilated as the human forced his head down, away, as he tightened his loins in as he neared the point of climax.

Five's loud panting increased, and with a howl, the minotaur's hard shaft pulsed, sending white, piney minotaur essence up and across Five's chest. The minotaur spasmed; his innards gripped Dacien's shaft with a tight, spasmodic convulsion that brought Dacien over the edge. The human's eyes closed momentarily as Dacien's entire body tightened as his own male seed burst out, into the minotaur. Five just let an almost pitiful low whimper, collapsing back onto the bed, his breath hard and puffing hot against Dacien.

The minotaur just looked a little dazed as Dacien rested on him, the human's hands still tight on Five's horns. "Huh ... please ..." the minotaur said. "Ho ... hold me, just ... hold me. Please. Tight," and Dacien realized that the minotaur was crying.

"Yes," Dacien said, "are you ... was that ..."

"Wonderful," the white-and-black minotaur said, "but, please, please, just ..."

Dacien released the short, slick horns, and wrapped his arms as far around the furred torso as he could, gripping the minotaur, who was starting to shake, crying silently. "Are ..."

"It's fine," Five said, between sobs, "just ... just let me, please, just let me cry, it ... it will pass," and then the minotaur howled again, a long sad sound that faded into a whimper, and then, finally, the minotaur was still. "Thank you," the minotaur said, finally, after he'd caught his breath.

"What ... what happened?"

Five rolled over on his side, gently moving Dacien off him. "It's ... just something that happens," the minotaur said. "Really."

"It's not," Dacien said softly. "Is it?"

"I ..." said the minotaur. Five looked away, almost ashamed. "No."

"Tell me," Dacien said.

"When ... when I was being trained. I was ... tied down. Chained down, to a bench. So that I couldn't move. And they were ... teaching me to ... enjoy ..."

"That doesn't sound like teaching," Dacien said.

"It's wrong to question our Masters," Five said softly. "Wrong. But ... I ... sometimes. Often. When I'm ... fucked. Which I like -- I do, I really, really, really do, but ... I have flashbacks. To that. Or ..."

"Or?"

Five reached up, and touched his left horn. "Or this. Master took off my horns, right at the head. They've grown out since. But ..."

"That was an awful thing to do."

"No," Five said quickly. "No, Master was right to take them. I did something very bad."

"What did you do?"

"I gored my Master," Five whispered. "He was very angry."

"Sounds like he deserved it," Dacien said.

"No!" said Five, sounding shocked. "Don't say that! Attacking your Master? It was very, very wrong!"

Dacien opened his mouth to disagree, and then paused. Five ... Five seemed so convinced. And ... a slave. Five was a slave, couldn't think of himself as anything but. He decided to take another approach. "Maybe," he said, not agreeing, but not disagreeing, either. "But he punished you for it, didn't he."

"Yes," Five said very quietly, not quite whispering, but soft enough that Dacien had to strain to hear him.

"And it hurt?"

"Yes," the minotaur said in that same quiet, submissive voice. "Very much. You don't have horns, so ... it wouldn't have hurt, if he hadn't done it so close to the root but it's like having a limb cut off," Five said. "It hurt. I don't think anything has ever hurt that much."

"So he punished you," Dacien said again.

"Yes, yes," said Five. "He did."

"So ... doesn't that mean you're forgiven? Since you were punished?"

Five blinked, and just nodded.

"So it's fine," Dacien said. He put an arm around the minotaur slave, and pulled next to him, rocking him gently. "You're fine." He paused, and forced himself to speak calmly, hating the words and still knowing they were the right ones for Five. "You're ... you're a good slave."

"I try," said Five. "But it doesn't work."

"Why ... what do you mean?"

"Nothing I do pleases my Master," Five said. "I'm not ... I know he's trying to sell me."

Dacien stared at the minotaur for a moment. "That's him," the human said. "Not you. The lack is his."

"Do ... do you think so?"

"Yes," Dacien said firmly. "I do. Come here," and the minotaur cuddled up against the human; Dacien tried not to laugh at the thought. Five had to be three feet taller than he was, and weigh at least four times as much -- and the minotaur was trying to curl up next to him. Dacien put an arm on Five's side, and patted him.

Dacien and Five fell asleep together, and, several hours later, that is how Lord Fog and the Lord of Tongs found them.