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Chapter Nine

KNIFE-EDGE

The tent was quiet; the black-mottled minotaur Five was silent with shock, the gray minotaur Teodor Lord Fog's attention was entirely on the wounded unconscious minotaur bleeding onto the late Lord of Tong's bed, Dacien himself was wondering at the news. He'd seen minotaurs fight. He'd watched them roll over his legion. And now the Imperial Army had some weapon that had crushed them? He hadn't had it, hadn't even known about it. And so his men hadn't had it.

Betrayal. They had been thrown away. Sacrificed. Dacien clamped down a bloody, raging anger that consumed him so fast and so furiously that he actually missed what Teodor said to him, registering only that the gray minotaur had said something. "I'm sorry, Master, I ... could you repeat that?"

Teodor looked up for a moment, before transferring his attention back to his patient. "I said this was an interesting sort of magic that I don't believe you've seen before, and that you and Five might wish to watch, if you're not squeamish. This will be bloody." He paused. "Actually, Five, I might be able to use your assistance; would you be willing to gift this warrior with some of your blood? It would strengthen him, in a way that ... that I cannot do, magically, but I can draw on your strength to bolster his. This is ... not something I command as your Master, or ask as a Lord. I ask only as Teodor, and if you decline, there will be no repercussion nor penalty nor even ill-will on my part."

"I ... will it hurt?" asked Five.

"No," said Teodor. "It may make you dizzy, and you may feel a little weaker for a day or two, but you will recover completely within five days. You should probably avoid tempus for that period, too."

"I've never heard of this," Five said cautiously.

Teodor nodded. "It's not much used, anymore. However, I have no earth-affinity, only water and air. I can heal the traumatic damage, stitch the muscle and skin, join the bone, but overcoming the shock to the body is not within my purview. Much of that shock is exsanguination, internal and external, and your blood would help overcome that."

"Oh," said Five. He stared at the bleeding minotaur for a moment.

Teodor interrupted Five's quiet. "I am sorry, Five, but the sooner I start, the better his chances of survival, and I would to set the infusion first."

"No," said Five, tentatively, and then, more confidently, "No."

Teodor blinked, and Dacien thought he was surprised, but the gray mage said only, "Very well. Thank you for considering it, Five," and moved to the bleeding minotaur.

"Here we have traumatic damage caused by, I think, a sling stone," started Teodor, ripping - or what looked like ripping - the blood-clotted tunic away from the minotaur's shoulder. It came off in strips, and Dacien could feel the quiet gray magic that was steadily unweaving the fabric. The wound itself was small and deep, like a spike had been hammered into the minotaur right below the shoulder.

"A sling stone?" Dacien asked, surprised. "But ..."

"A sling stone," confirmed Teodor. "Cast of lead, moving very, very fast. They do grievous damage. They were thrown magically, I think. They are so fast that ... even crossbow quarrels may be avoided in tempus, but not these. They burst through the flesh, and then inside, as they slow, the wound becomes bigger. There's bleeding directly into the lungs, and," he took a breath, "the muscles are ... mangled. He will be crippled, losing most of the use of his arm, no matter what I do. The damage is ... like flesh struck with a hammer, crushed beyond my ability to ..."

"Master Teodor," whispered Five.

"Yes, Five?"

"I ... may I change my mind?"

"Yes," said Teodor, "but you may not change it again. I cannot interrupt my healing to undo the infusion." The gray minotaur looked at Five steadily, saying nothing more.

"I will. I'll do it. Master."

"Very well," said Teodor, sounding a little confused, but grateful of the change of heart. "We'll do that first. Dacien, please attend. This is really quite an unusual piece of work, and one I don't know many other mages could do.

"Five," said Teodor, "please get down on the bed - on the other side of him. Put your arm in contact with his - your right, his left, yes, that's it. And your leg, your right - exactly so." Teodor moved down, and placed a hand on the warrior's left leg, and the other on Five's right. "This may ... tickle a bit."

"Where was I ... yes. Manipulation of flesh, a water art. Please note, Dacien, that this minotaur is enspelled into sleep. His waking during the procedure would be unfortunate, and I'm enspelling Five, as well. For success, their heartbeats must be - not matched, but offset, and tied together. Like so. Yes. Another spell to keep Five motionless - he can still talk, to alert us to problems, but ..."

Teodor concentrated. "The difficult part. Merging bloodstreams, from Five into ... our Ourobouros friend here. In through the leg, right there, routing ... through the muscle ... yes, and now ... back out ... through the arm. Like so."

Dacien watched as the flesh actually came together, and ... he thought he could see it pulse in time with their matched heartbeats.

"There," whispered Teodor. "Five's health now supports ..." he paused. "I don't actually know this one's name . But he will serve as a stabilizer, much as an earth-mage might, had I been clever enough to prevent getting ours killed." Teodor got up, inspected the connections. "Not as desirable as an earth-mage, and it will task Five's strength and health. Were this one more sorely wounded, I would not dare to do this, because this one's failing life could threaten Five's."

Teodor glanced up at Five, who was looking ... calm. "Not the case here. Even if something were to go wrong, there would be enough time to part them before endangering Five."

"I see," said Dacien, who, despite his initial revulsion, was beginning to be interested.

"Excellent," said Teodor, returning to the minotaur's chest. "Now," he said, "this is the gory part," as he plunged his fingers into the minotaur. "Here I'm moving ... there, the ... lung and ... yes." His other hand touched the soft brown fur, and disappeared into it, like a man reaching into a pool of water. "The lung was simple; trying to put this pectoral back together," Teodor made a frustrated sound. "It's like trying to reassemble ground meat," he said.

Dacien found himself fascinated as Teodor described what he was doing, and ... yes, he could feel the subtle gray of Teodor's magic pooling around the mage, rendering the flesh malleable. He couldn't see the tissues beneath the skin, but he could see how the gray magic spread out, defining the muscle and lung, and how Teodor was patiently putting the wound back together.

"I much prefer swords," sighed Teodor, peering down at the wound. "Nice, sharp cuts. Easy to put back together. This is just dreadful. The bone is shattered, fragments slicing up the muscle, interim, everything."

"You said he'd be crippled?"

"Until a mage can heal this properly," said Teodor, in distracted way. "He'll need an earth-mage to grow new tissue, and ... another water-mage to open up the matrix for it to grow into. This is the best I can do, on my own. Unsatisfactory," the minotaur said.

"He'll live, though."

"Oh, yes ..." said Teodor, and then paused. "That's odd ..."

"What?"

"I am an oblivious trusting idiot, that's what," said Teodor, angrily. "Time ... time ..." he muttered, as he started moving faster. "This will all have to be redone anyway," he said. "It doesn't matter how poor it is ... there, there ..." he stopped. "There," and moved on.

"Master?"

"Dacien, I want you to ... try to sense any other magic, other than mine, at work in this minotaur. Tell me what you feel. But don't touch it - be passive. Totally passive. I think there's something hostile here, and ... I think it's earth magic, and I think I've been very foolish," Teodor said grimly, still working on the minotaur's shoulder.

Slipping back into the focus of magic was easily done; Dacien was used to the strange half-world of things sensed one way but perceived another; sounds that were not sounds, colors that had no relation to light, sensations that were not touch. Overwhelming everything was the constant, cool gray flow of power from Lord Fog, and ... almost invisibly, the magic flowing from himself. Five was drinking in both; he could watch the gray power swirl around the minotaur, interspersed with the clear-but-constant pressure of his own magic. Another magic, though ...

He swung his attention to the wounded minotaur, staring first at the wound, all suffused with ... yes.

A red, sticky heat was hiding under the cool grayness, and spreading, slowly, throughout the minotaur, like a fine web spinning itself through the blood. Through the blood? Dacien turned his gaze on Five - yes. "Master," he said, alarmed. "I see it. It's in Five, too."

"And have you examined me?" asked Teodor tightly, still working on closing the wound. "Check my legs."

"No ..." Dacien looked. Now that he knew what to look for, though, he found it, spreading out from Teodor's left leg and into his right, and another knot of red stickiness in his gut. "You too, Master. Your left leg, and it's into your right, and ... and your stomach."

"Cursed, the stones were cursed, and I never even considered it," Teodor said. "And like an idiot I've infected Five. I'm so sorry, Five ..."

"Master?"

"There was a curse on the stones; the wounds were cursed, and by infusing you and this fellow, I've spread the thing to you," Teodor said. "And I have no excuse other than my own cursed idiocy!"

"But ... you're a mage," said Five. "Can't you undo it?"

"This sort of curse is an earth-spell, meant to weaken, degrade, and ... no, I can't touch it. I can't even sense it, I only thought about it because ... well, because my leg is numb. Both legs, now." Teodor sounded angry. "At least it's spreading relatively slowly ..." he paused. "There," he drew his hands out of the minotaur, and stared at them. Angrily, Dacien thought. More gray, and the blood began to drip off of them, slowly, and then faster, until they were clean. Teodor repeated the cleansing on the minotaur, and then the bedding. Again, the liquid - Dacien didn't think it was all blood, just sank down through the floor of the tent, leaving not even a stain.

"What ... Master?" asked Five, his voice a little strained. "What will happen?"

"If the curse isn't removed, we'll die," Teodor said, remarkably calmly to Dacien's ears, as he sat down on the tent chair. "The problem is that this kind of spell is usually invasive. A mage trying to break it may well contract it. And ... if it weren't invasive, I doubt it would have spread to Five, and - correct me, Dacien, it has, has it not?"

"Oh, yes, Master," Dacien said. "I can see it. Like a fine web of lines, all lacing his body, and ... and starting to seep into Five."

"Delightful," said Teodor, disgustedly. "And it's likely that, having been infected with the spell, we can no longer break it. A simple feature of such things, and ... it's probably best to assume active malice with a curse. Troublesome." He took a breath. "I could call for help, but ... I'm not sure how much time we do have. There are things I could do to delay it ... but ... there are problems even there.

Teodor's hands twitched. "I do have an idea ... Dacien. You can sense the spell. Don't touch it, whatever you do ... just ... keep an eye on it. Now, watch me . I don't know how this will appear to you, but I'm confident you'll be able to sense it."

"Yes, Master."

"Teodor. We're doing magic together. It's Teodor, " the minotaur said.

"Yes, Teodor," Dacien said.

"It's important," the gray minotaur responded. "It has to do with mindset, with understanding what is and is not appropriate to these matters. It helps, once you've mastered it. But ... as I said Dacien, watch."

It was like watching a bubble of gray expanding out around Teodor, and Dacien said so.

"Excellent," Teodor said, his voice slurred. "Now. Touch it. Go into it. Project yourself into ..." Teodor paused, fought to finish his sentence. "the center. It will feel ... good. Don't worry about me, or my reaction. Get ... get used to the feeling. I will terminate the effect after a few moment. Moments."

"Yes, Master," said Dacien uncertainly. He reached out; the gray bubble was ... strangely welcoming. It had all the grayness he'd come to associate with Teodor's magic, with the refreshing lightness of a cool breeze; it could not be more Teodor than any magic he'd encountered. And yet, somehow, it seemed more and less than that. More, because it drew him, as he reached out to it, he found it pulling on him, not demandingly, but ... as if it were eager to offer itself to him. Less, because it lacked the sense of purpose; that undefinable but unmistakable drive all the other magic he'd watched. It was as if ... as if ... as if its purpose was only to welcome him.

He reached into it tentatively, and it reached back to him; surrounding him - almost like a second skin. The sensation prickled at him; warm, welcoming, like a willing partner, the moment before entry, or the hot breath of a lover across his most intimate places. Dacien tried, as Teodor had bade him, to experience it; take in the feeling, understand it; but all his senses yearned to reach out, touch the spell, caress it, return the exquisite touch and use the power as it begged to be used.

And it was over, like a burst of chilling air after a warm bath. Teodor was panting, his eyes glazed and unfocused.

"Teodor?" Dacien asked. "Master?"

The gray minotaur waved his hand, asking for a moment, and gulped air. "That was ... harder than I expected," he said. "Better. But ... oh. This ... this will task me, I can tell ... you are ... you are a most powerful mage, Dacien-human." Gray magic trickled around the panting minotaur, and even from where he was, Dacien felt an icy chill.

"There," Teodor said, more in control of himself. "Yes. You ... you know how it feels, so ... it won't take you by surprise.'

"You were serving as a lens, weren't you, Mah - Teodor."

"Yes," said the gray mage. "This curse; you have to use a lens to destroy it. You can extend yourself through me; overwhelm it, but using me, it cannot reach you - only me, and because I am merely channeling your magic - it cannot touch me that way, either. It's ... it's the safest way to deal with the spell. But ..." The minotaur took a deep breath. "I ... I have never been one to succumb to lens euphoria; I have always been able to resist it. I do not know ... I do not know if I can resist you, Dacien. You ... you have the most powerful effect. As a lens, you were unsuited, and I think you will be very, very hard on anyone serving you as lens." The gray minotaur managed a smile, somehow. "It will be humbling for me, even if I can resist the full euphoria. I don't know ... I don't know if I can. Not if merely starting the lens process affects me so strongly. Probably ... probably a lesson I need in humility."

"Teodor - Master, I don't want ..."

"You must," said Teodor. "I have no ability to touch this earth-magic; you do. Perhaps you could do so safely without a lens, but ... I do not want you to risk yourself. Speaking of which. If you are unable to destroy this effect, you must not touch me afterwards. It may spread sexually - and I may be in no condition to resist it. Do you understand?"

"I believe so, Master Teodor."

"Just Teodor while we do magic, Dacien."

"I think of you as my mentor and instructor, Master Teodor," Dacien said. "May I not offer you the honor you deserve?"

The gray minotaur blinked, and then another smile spread across his face. "Thank you, Dacien. I ... I am honored. Very much. Perhaps ... perhaps, if you feel it appropriate to call me so, perhaps it is." He turned to look at Five, and the other minotaur, still bound together. "The sooner you crush this vile thing, the better. When you have done so - or if you determine that you cannot - I need you to let me know. Pull in your magic; I'll feel that, and release the spell." The minotaur hesitated, and then added, "You are not ready for this, Dacien. I am sorry. Do your best; that is all I can ask, and it will have to be enough."

He certainly didn't feel ready, that much was true. Dacien slipped back into his focus, back into the open embrace of the gray bubble, and then he let his attention wander outside the gray bubble. He was unready for the experience; the gray cleared, expanded, hurled itself outward at his thought; and ... and as arousing as the sensation of merely being within the bubble had been, using it like this was more so. Much, much more so. Dacien was erect, and the pleasurable pressure against him wasn't merely confined to his shaft, but over his entire body. Every not-movement in that strange other-space of magic he felt like he was driving his entire self deeper into the grayness - pulling in, pulling out - Dacien stopped, and for a moment he wasn't sure where he was or what -

Magic. He was doing magic. He fought to ignore the sensations, and looked for the magic he'd spotted before. Dacien could see the toxic red sticky magic and as he thought it, he realized that the gray was somehow amplifying it; holding it before him so he did not have to concentrate on seeing it. It was still hiding - and now he recognized that it was hiding; trying to lose itself in the warm flows of blood that carried it like a secret poison. The gray magic surrounding him, though, exposed it, responding to his own action.

Supporting and carrying the spell, he recognized, and the thought nearly threw him out of the focus . And he nearly lost control again when he realized just what that would mean - he'd be terminating the spell, not Teodor, and that ... that was bad. He couldn't quite remember why, but ... yes. Exit shock , he remembered. Trand had only been caught for a few minutes. Somehow, the realization that it wouldn't be life-threatening to Teodor reassured him, and it was easier to put the intense sexual stimulation of being a mage using a lens aside.

But now that he'd found the toxic spell - what? How did he destroy it? Why hadn't Teodor told him what do next ? He reached out tentatively to where the spell was slowly infiltrating Five, and the red stuff adhered to - not him, but the grayness, or at least it tried to; it didn't really take hold, sliding off and back into itself. Teodor had certainly gotten that right, Dacien thought. But that didn't help him destroy it, or cancel it, or anything else. Could he pull it? Push it? With more confidence, now that he'd seen the insulation he had, he reached out, touched it, started gathering it. It was like pulling a weed out of the ground, although a strong one. It ripped easily, thankfully. If he had to pick out each individual strand, that would take him forever, pulling it away from Five strand by strand by strand. As it was, it came up all at once. He gathered it, and then kept pulling at the attachments to the other minotaur, and that was harder, much harder. The spell was far more entrenched, and Dacien felt himself struggling. Maybe ... maybe he could weaken it?

But how? Why hadn't Teodor told him more? And what did he do with the glob of nasty magic that he had pulled out of Five? Rip it? No; it just pulled apart and reformed, like thick, viscous goo. Or - maybe that was the wrong kind of pulling it apart. Could he pull the magic out of it?

Yes; yes he could; the red strands faded as he started pulling magic, his magic, or rather, the clear stream he associated with his own presence out of it, and as he did, the red stickiness of the strands shrunk, pulled back, to the original wound in the minotaur's shoulder - and he ripped that out and added it to the glob he'd pulled from Five.

He turned his attention to Master Teodor. The three knots of congealed spell were clear to him, and they had woven together. He pulled magic from them - but as fast as he did, more seeped in - from the other two knots, he realized. Whatever this spell was, it had fastened onto Teodor much more strongly - why - ah. The spell had set down strands - roots - into Teodor's own magic, and was drinking directly from the bottomless well of the mage. Dacien had thought Teodor was being a little paranoid about this curse, but no longer. He couldn't pull them out, he couldn't drain them, he couldn't rip or shred them ... what was left?

Dacien turned back to the strands of spell he'd pulled already, and concentrated on pulling more magic from it - more - more - more - until it faded away entirely. That took care of that, and he turned his attention back to the triple problem of Teodor. Each knot was spreading out, and ... Dacien pulled one of the tap-roots up, very carefully, from the first knot, and set it into the second knot, and a tiny surge of his own magic to connect the one to the other, and it didn't seem to see that it was draining itself. It took almost an hour to pull all the draining-roots up and embed them into the other parts of the spell, but if he could just keep the spell from pulling on Teodor maybe he could drain it then.

And if he could do that ... maybe ... Dacien reached for the first knot, and slid his own magic around it, letting the foul red spell suck the power in but using that to disconnect it - lift it away from Teodor - like peeling the rind from an orange. It wouldn't have worked if the spell was still tapping the mage, but now ... it came up, slowly, bit by bit by bit, until ... Teodor was free. He started pulling magic from it, like he had the previous one, draining it until finally, it faded and vanished. There!

Now he just had to - to pull his own magic back in. Pull away from the grayness, without quite separating himself - pull in, pull in, hold himself still, stiller, wait for the grayness to

Fade away around him.

Dacien didn't remember closing his eyes, but he must have, at some point. Teodor was slumped back in his chair, the fine gray pelt matted with sweat. His front was matted with seed and the clear slick fluid that preceeded it. The gray minotayr's eyes were unfocused, half-closed, his mouth hanging open, and he seemed completely unresponsive.

"Te - Teodor? Master?" Dacien asked.

A groan answered him, nothing more.

"Five? Are you all right?"

"Yes," said Five. "What did you do? That was ..."

"What happened?" said Dacien urgently. "Is he hurt? I got the spell, I think,"

"Guh - guh - good," came from the gray minotaur. "Dah."

"Master?"

Teodor just shook his head slowly.

"Five?" asked Dacien.

"Well, you just got really quiet, and then I realized ... Master was panting. Like ... well, like I have, when I wanted ... wanted to be used," Five said, quietly. "When I was addicted. Am addicted." The minotaur picked his head up a little, unable to move from where he was connected to the other one. "He was yelling something - but, it wasn't very clear. I hope ... I hope he put some kind of silence spell on us again."

Teodor grunted something, or tried to, and then he tried again. "Yes," he managed. "Dacien. The ..." he groaned, unable to finish the sentence. "I. Need." He groaned again, and somehow, managed to get out of the chair, but fell, face-forward, onto the floor. "Dacien!"

"Master?"

"No," the gray minotaur groaned. "No. Not. Teodor. Just."

"You ... you need me to ..."

"Yes. Fuck. Me. Recover. Now!"

Dacien hesitated, although he moved toward the minotaur. "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Master Teodor."

"Time," said the gray minotaur. "Time! You - you must! There's no ... no time!"

"I ..."

"Explain. After. Dacien!" The last word almost sounded pleading. Dacien was hard, the intense pleasure of using Teodor as a lens still thrilling through him, but ... this was his Master . It seemed ... wrong, to take his Master this way. Master should be holding him, fucking him , not ... not kneeling on all fours, face to the floor with his back up and exposed to ... his apprentice. His slave. But ...

Maybe this was why Teodor had insisted that his name, not Master, was appropriate when they were intimate, or doing magic together? Because he might be called upon - might need to - fuck his Master?

"Dacien!" The voice sounded almost desperate - and just a little angry.

"I'm coming," he said, cringing as he heard himself. He got behind Teodor, kneeled a little, and - and - just pushed himself into the gray minotaur. Teodor said nothing, just pushed back against Dacien, and Dacien began thrusting into him, softly, then harder. What the minotaur seemed to want wasn't a gentle session of love-making, but hard, pounding sex. Teodor had been rough with Luzeil, he remembered, and the golden minotaur had enjoyed it. Dacien pushed a little, from side to side, and from Teodor's panting, he thought the minotaur was enjoying. He reached out, stretched, and stroked the jutting curved horn, gripping it, pulling Teodor's head back. It might have been coincidence, but Teodor shook with orgasm again, spilling yet more pearlescent seed on himself and the floor, and the convulsive tightness against Dacien's shaft brought the human to his own moment of ecstasy. He pulled out, slowly, and sat down, back against the floor. Teodor rolled over, and looked at the human for a moment, but it brought Dacien very little joy. This wasn't love, this wasn't intimacy, this wasn't the connection he craved with Teodor - and he was fairly certain it was as mechanical to Teodor as it was to him. Empty, vacant ... an act without a meaning, compelled by sheer physical need . Perhaps something of that showed on face.

A short grin crossed Teodor's face. "Sleep," he said, his voice closer to normal. "After. I'll ... be recovered when I wake." The gray minotaur stumbled over to the bed, and lay down beside Five.

Over the next few hours, Dacien watched impatiently as the muted shadows within the tent shortened, and then lengthened again. He considered waking the gray minotaur, especially when Five asked for water, and then for help with the chamberpot. It did give him a chance to examine the connection between Five and the other sleeping spell-wrapped minotaur; somehow the flesh had actually been connected; blood from the sleeper flowed into Five through the arms, and then back into the sleeper via their legs. There was some ongoing magic between them, but it wasn't the connection, rather it looked like it was doing something to the connection that Dacien couldn't quite figure out. He asked Five several times if he were all right, and Five said he was. Still, Dacien could tell that Five was more than a little disturbed by this, as evidenced by his asking - several time - if Master were awake, always with a great deal of hope in his voice.

It wasn't until well after dark that Teodor groaned, and sat up. "Dacien?" he said. "I'm sure there isn't any tea, but ... water, perhaps, if you would?"

Now, that sounded more like his master. "Yes, Master!" Dacien said. "Are ... are you ..."

"Better? Recovered? Quite ... er, sated? Yes to all of those, but the water ... ah." Teodor accepted the ceramic cup, and drank. "Thank you." The gray minotaur looked down with distaste at his matted fur. More of the cool gray, and water started dripping off him. "Not that I mean to be disrespectful of you, Dacien, so I do apologize," and he actually sounded regretful. "So. Was your foray into magic successful? I don't feel any worse, so I'm hoping you dealt with the spell?"

"Yes. It's gone. It was ... pretty nasty." said Dacien. "But - I didn't really understand how to do it. Why didn't you tell me?"

The minotaur sighed, handing the cup back and motioning for Dacien to refill it. "I thought I'd done well coaxing you into using a lens, while being that lens. I really must give you some lessons on how to ... minimize your effect on your lens. Xavien is gentler than you are. That's not your fault, of course," he added quickly. "Really. I don't mean to criticize, you did what you did with minimal preparation, no training, no prior experience. Not at all. There was ... is, much I can tell you about both being a lens and using one, things that ... well.

"There's nothing I can tell you about how specifically to use your magic. I have no idea how things might work for you; I wasn't even sure if you could deal with that spell. I'm most gratified that you could, of course." Teodor got up, and looked, finally at Five and the Ourobouros warrior. "Five? How are you feeling?" He put his hand on the sleeping minotaur's chest.

"A little stiff, Master, it's a ... little hard to move," said Five. "And ... it seems a little strange. Master."

"If it helps, Five, this minotaur owes his life to you," Teodor said, softly. "And all three of us owe Dacien, or, more properly, I put your life in danger, and Dacien redeemed it for me. He's ... well." The minotaur lifted his hand. "And it seems this fellow has stabilized. Which. Oh." Teodor shook his head. "I'm an idiot, standing here blathering ..."

"Master?" asked Five plaintively.

"Yes?"

"Could you ... well, undo this? If ... I mean, if he's all right? It's ..."

"Yes ... I will, of course, Five," the gray minotaur said. "But I need to report this to Lord Chimes, and ... I've put that off too long, already, I really ... well. No. Not really. He was in danger, I was in danger ... we needed ... and then. But." Teodor stepped over to his chest, and pulled out a stone, and cracked it. "There ..."

"Now, Master?" asked Five hopefully.

"I'm sorry, Five, it's going to be ..."

"Lord Fog?" The voice echoed in Dacien's ears. "What is wrong?"

"I'm not sure where to start, Lord Chimes. We encountered the Imperial Army late this morning - General Orox laid an ambush. I'm not sure if the ambush succeeded or not, but the humans were more than ready for us. They had some kind of weapon - it may have been directly magical. A hand-held metal device that hurled lead sling stones at an unbelievable speed. I held a shield of air, but they punched through it without any difficulty. In the time it took for me to refocus and heal myself to rejoin the battle - Orox, the Lord of Tongs, and probably about a third of the Ourobouros force were dead, or dying."

"I don't ..."

"I'm not done," Teodor said. "There's more. The humans continued firing these weapons, and I suspect ... I suspect I and a warrior I grabbed as I fled are the only survivors. The sling stones were cursed, Lord Chimes, a noxious, infectious, paralyzing spell."

"I see. Is that why you've taken so long to report this?"

"In a word, yes. The feral human was useful to undo the curse, most fortunately for me. But I'm still numb in my legs. I have an Ourobouros survivor - he was hit in the chest; I healed the damage, and I think he's stable, and the curse is lifted, but ..."

"How did you stabilize him? You're no earth-mage. Your feral human? Again?"

"A rather obscure little water-spell. It's nowhere near as good as such things as earth-magic, but when it's all you have, it's all you have."

"How long until the human dies? Can you slow the spell?"

"The human is not in danger."

A moment of quiet, and then, "How did you manage that?"

"He used me as a lens, of course," Teodor said calmly. "How else?"

There was another pause as Lord Chimes considered that. "That must have been difficult."

"Very," agreed Teodor. "There are further issues. These Imperials have - unknowingly, perhaps - violated the Truces of Xarbydis. Now, of course, they weren't in the Truces, but we've always applied them regardless. I want permission to parley with them, and I want permission to violate the Truces if the parley goes poorly."

"That will require a full council vote."

"If the Imperial Army does not agree to the Truces, what is Ourobouros going to do? Think no survivors, Lord Chimes."

"You said you had one,"

"And that, I think, will be all. Anyone struck by those cursed stones will die, and ... I suspect everyone was hit. I don't think Ourobouros is going to see a difference. Or account for the human's ignorance of the Truces."

"No."

"You must contact Lords Doze and Lash. They must not expose themselves to these weapons. And ... I think you must contact the Lord of Bones next."

"Yes, and I'll sharpen and clean my sword."

"Forgive me," Teodor apologized. "Yes, of course you know what to do, better than I, I am sure. It's simply been a difficult day. I have nothing further to report, but ... I have no way to draw your attention again. Can you contact me at least twice a day until ..."

"Of course. I'll probably be back in an hour - you are safe where you are?"

"Safe enough for now," said Teodor.

Lord Chimes said nothing, but Dacien felt a slight pop as the magic faded. The gray minotaur looked at Dacien. "You heard that, I assume?"

"Yes, Master."

"Another mystery ... but not now." Teodor turned back to Five and the Ourobouros. "Five, hold still. This might tickle a bit," he said, working on the two. "This needs to be ... ah. Yes. There," and he moved down to the leg.

"But it's still ..." started Five.

"Yes, I need to undo this in stages," Teodor said absently, as he worked. "Essentially, I routed his blood to you, and yours to his. Blood is the great stabilizer, blood carries strength and healing, cleanses wounds, it is the very liquid of life of the body. There are others, of course, but ... there ... but not all of them are easily shared. While you've been here, your strength has carried him, fed him, warmed him ... you have given him life, Five. Without you, nothing I could have done would have saved him."

"But you're a healer, Master."

"A poor one, without access to earth-magic," Teodor said. "You basically took the place of an earth-mage, Five."

"I did?"

"Essentially," said Teodor. "And I thank you." He pulled the two minotaur's legs apart. "There." He reached up, and separated their arms. "And there." He handed Five a travel bar. "Don't get up yet, Five. Have something to eat, drink. You may feel a bit dizzy when you get up; that's to be expected, really."

"Yes, Master," Five said.

Teodor stared at the other minotaur, and sighed. "You'll just have to stay asleep a little longer, my friend, I think. Dacien. Tell me ... everything. What you saw, how you felt ... what you did."

They were almost done when Dacien felt a high tone, like the whine of an insect flying by his ears. "Lord Fog? "

"Yes, Lord Chimes?"

" I have alerted Doze and Lash. General Osaze agrees that the Imperials should be avoided at this point. Unfortunately, Lord Lash will be unable to assist you. The human army is directly between you. "

"I presumed as much," Teodor said. "I think I can make it back to Xarsen. I hate to ask my carriage to turn around and return ..."

" It will be there to meet you. The Lord of Bones is ... well, as you'd expect. He's demanding the extermination of the army, and a campaign to punish the humans. He wants to know who the survivor is, by the way. "

"I actually don't know his name," Teodor said. "He's sleeping."

" Apparently the Lord of Bones' son - Vitoro - was with the army. "

"The chance of it being he are ... minimal," said Teodor.

" I know. The Lord of Bones knows. And yet ... he says, and I agree, that at least someone will be thankful. "

"I will ask, but ... he was unconscious when I brought him in, and ... I've kept him asleep, if only to simplify his treatment and ... deal with some of the magical issues."

" Like breaking the curse? "

"Yes. I've had time to debrief my human; the spell was infectious - highly so, and designed to target mages. I'm certain that an infected mage would be unable to remove it - and a mage attempting to remove it would almost certainly be infected. I suspect if we can track it down, it will have come from mage-mage battles within the Empire - and I also suspect these Imperial mages lack lensing techniques."

"Or else they'd not spend so much time on a feature so easily circumvented, yes, that makes sense. But does that give us an advantage? "

"It certainly tells us our understanding of magic is superior to theirs," Teodor said. "What of my request to parley?"

"The Lord of Bones was not pleased. Doze thinks that putting you at risk is foolish; Lash is not so sure. Winter thinks we should gather - we mages - and deal with them, if we can convince Ouroborous, Aglacea, and Vafnir. Green, interestingly, thinks parley will prove unproductive, but agrees they need to be informed of their transgressions - and the story behind the Truces. He is completely against your conducting a parley in any way that exposes you to danger, and ... so am I. That, by the way, is the word of the Council on this. Can you parley in a way that would not expose you?"

"Yes," said Teodor. "Mostly. I would have to be close, but I could send an illusion in while I remain wrapped in nondiscernment. There is some risk, but ... minimal, not much more than I am in now, hidden but close to the battlefield."

" Acceptable, then, " said Lord Chimes. " When will you know who the survivor is? "

"As soon as I wake him. Which I will do directly after talking with my human mage."

" Yes. You've had to teach him how to use a lens, and ... I'm guessing you were the lens yourself? "

"Yes," sighed Teodor.

" That must have been difficult. "

"Moderately so, yes," agreed Teodor.

" And now the human knows he is a mage. Have you taken steps to assure his loyalty and obedience? "

"I keep trying," Teodor said dryly, "but I keep being interrupted by these little pleasure jaunts you send me on."

"You know what I mean. What you are doing is extremely questionable. I've concealed it from the rest of the Council, and from our allies, but between you and me, I'm very concerned. I'd feel better about if ... you took steps . "

"I thank you for your concern, Ruus. I am guided in this by your own percipience, and my judgment. I would point out that my ... avoiding a more traditional approach has very likely saved my life, that of two other minotaurs, and prevented the loss of this valuable resource to the Imperial Army. Nor would I have survived to have any conversation with you, so ... Lash, Doze, and Osaze would remain unaware of the potential threat. I submit that following your percipient command has been most advantageous for us, and I see no reason to ... distrust it when it has proven so valuable."

" I suppose you're correct in that you must do what you must do, " Ruus said, dubiously. " Still, it seems dangerous. Needlessly so. "

"I will not do what you are suggesting, nor will I permit it. The discussion distresses me, and I would ask we leave the topic."

" As you wish, Teodor. Given that it's late, I will contact you tomorrow, at noon. "

"Wait! Do I have permission to exceed the Truces? Ruus?"

" Only Doze voted 'nay ' of our Council. Ouroborous and Aglacea give their permission; Vafnir is still debating. I can't see why they wouldn't. "

"Why did Doze vote no?"

" He says there is no reason nor excuse to violate the Truces, and that we may well find ourselves and the humans in some kind of escalating war of magic. There's no way to win. He says the Truces are not a convention that may be set aside, but the only path of survival. "

"He has a point," said Teodor. "Surprisingly. I'll ... I'll think on it. I do agree that going beyond the Truces should be done ... as gingerly and in as small a way as possible."

" The Council wants to know what you intend to do before you do it, of course, and will retain a veto. "

"I'm pleased to have so many good minds to assist me in this difficult matter," Teodor said. "I was thinking, actually, of enchanting them to sleep. They could be taken captive ... easily."

" Clever. Can you affect ... thousands? " Ruus's voice sounded dubious. " Before they have time to counter it? "

"Perhaps," said Teodor. "I may have a surprise or two remaining."

" Very well. I will see what the great minds have to say on your plan. "

"Thank you. Oh. Please make it clear that I would not do so unless I felt I did have a good opportunity to affect ... all of them. I don't intend to do some half-measure that would ... alert them to our capabilities or intent."

" Noted. "

Dacien felt a pop as the spell broke, and Teodor turned to him, a not-quite-question in the huge brown eyes. "You heard, yes?"

"Yes, Master."

Teodor nodded. "Strange, so strange," he murmured.

This time, the spell was heavy, like a thick muffling blanket. " Teodor? " the voice was deep, much deeper than Lord Chimes, and felt a buzzing in Dacien's bones. " Teodor? Are you free? "

"Of course. This is My Lord of Bones, is it not?"

" You remember. It was so long ago. "

"You made quite an impression; I had no idea you knew me well enough to reach me like this."

" I made sure of it. One never knows whom one may wish to speak with. "

"I have nothing more to report to you, My Lord," Teodor said, respectfully. "I told Lord Chimes everything - and I'm certain he told you."

" No doubt, " the voice agreed. " I would see - for myself - what happened this morning. You can show it to me? "

"As if you were there," Teodor said. "Complete with being struck with those accursed stones, if you like."

" Perhaps that part might be passed over profitably, and ... perhaps not. There is some ... debate about you, I fear. Luzeil explained your ... actions, but that was not a matter for general debate. And I agree, by the way. I had the good fortune to know Lord Ember, and ... he was a most formidable minotaur. "

"Yes," said Teodor. "Thank you, My Lord. I left - fled - the field. But I am no warrior, and so take no dishonor from fleeing. Frankly, given the usage of proscribed weapons, I see no honor to anyone in staying, either."

"I can reach no one that I know," the voice was heavy with regret.

"I am deeply sorry, My Lord of Bones," Teodor said formally. "Please accept my sympathy."

" We shall talk more in Maze. "

"I would be honored," said Teodor, and the spell - dissolved, like fresh air entering a musty room. Teodor shook his head.

"Master?"

"All I want is to return to Mistingrise," the gray minotaur fumed. "Is that so impossible?" His voice grew louder, and louder, "But no, I am dragged to an army, dragged back to Maze, hurled hither and yon," and Teodor was almost yelling, in a deep angry voice, "everywhere but the one place I can actually be useful!" He turned almost furiously to the still-sleeping Ouroborous warrior.

"Wake," he said, and Dacien felt gray uncoil from around him.

He transitioned from sleep to full awareness almost instantly; moving from his prone position to a full guard position in a blur of movement - or he tried; he collapsed on the floor halfway through it.

Dacien was grateful that he was too surprised to laugh; Teodor somehow managed to pull the tremendous dignity he had around him like some kind of cloak. "You were wounded, and are still weak," he advised the minotaur. "May I help you up?"

"Yes," the minotaur said, his voice raspy.

"I am Teodor, Lord Fog of Lycaili; these are mine, the slave Five and this human." He paused.

"I recognize you, My Lord Fog."

"Please call me Teodor; and ... what may I call you?"

"Benelaus of Ouroborous," the minotaur said. "I was ..."

"You were injured in battle. The Imperial Army, unknown to us, has weapons proscribed by the Truces," Teodor said briskly. "Weapons of distance, that cast small stones at high speed. And those stones were spell-shot, with a vile curse."

"I'm cursed, then?"

"Not any longer. I took you from the battlefield - you were unconscious, wounded, and dying. I ... I am sorry. I could only take one ... and I judged that you would die if I left you, and that I had the greatest chance of restoring you ... there was no more to my decision that that."

"It went poorly for us?"

"I believe, Warrior Benelaus of Ouroborous, that you may be the only survivor," Teodor said softly. "The General, the Lord of Tongs, and myself were all struck with a volley of the accursed things, and ... by the time I'd fought my way out of the physical injury, all those around me were dead, or ... dying of wounds past my competence. The battle was continuing, so I ... I wrapped myself in nondiscernment, picked you up, and fled to my tent. I'd already wrapped it in nondiscernment and quiet, so that ... although I expect the camp has been ravaged, we remain safe and undetected."

"Oh," said Benelaus, sitting back down on the bed. "It's dark."

"Yes. I held you in sleep for ... perhaps twelve hours."

"I think I'd have to piss after that," he said.

"Ah," said Teodor. "The slave Five consented to carry your life during that time."

"I'm sorry, My Lord Fog, I think I understand the effect of a 'nondiscernment' but that's sounds like some kind of impenetrable euphemism."

"I am not an earth-mage; and so have no ability to support the subtle processes of life. I can repair trauma, bind wounds, repair rips, tears - all these are things of flow. But the underlying essence of life is an earth-mystery over which I have no say. And the insult to your underlying self was ... profound. But there have been water-mages, cleverer than I, and they long ago had a solution; to let that fundamental essence flow from one - or more - whole minotaurs into the wounded one. Five consented - and for a magic of this sort, their must be consent - and he carried you for ... the majority of a day. It is not a thing much called for, when healing is done by earth-mages, but ... I learned the technique out of curiosity."

"I am grateful you did," Benelaus said. "Although, My Lord, I do not see why that means, after sleeping for twelve hours, I do not have to piss."

"Ah," said Teodor. "You are not distracted."

"If it is a deep occult secret, My Lord Fog, then I am content not to know."

"No. I am afraid you might be ... upset or offended at the details, and so ... wished to spare myself. A small selfishness. The process involves blood; the spark of life is blood, and so I linked you to Five, send his blood into you to lend you his strength, and ... yours to his, to be cleansed and renewed and carry Five's life back into you. It is not a subtle spell, although there are subtleties to the mechanics of it. And so, Warrior Benelaus, the slave pissed for you, the last twelve hours."

During this recital the Ouroborous warrior's face seemed to freeze. "I ... I see. Needs must. If you are telling me the truth, then I would have died without it."

"I think you would have," said Teodor.

"Then I have no right to complain, or indeed, do anything but ..." Benelaus turned to Five. "I thank you, My Lord Slave, and I count myself in your debt for my life."

Five shot a worried glance to Teodor. "You're welcome," he said, "and I thank you, but ... I am beyond debts."

Benelaus smiled, and turned to Teodor.

"Really this is not necessary," Teodor said, "and I'd rather ..."

"I thank you, My Lord Fog, for healing me and removing the curse from the wound. I count myself in your debt for my life."

"You are welcome, but ... it was not I who lifted the curse. Such a curse is earth-magic. As for the debt - it is nothing, and I beg you not to concern yourself with it."

"As you wish, but I assure you my life is something to me. How, My Lord Fog, was the curse lifted, if I might inquire?"

"I'd much rather you didn't," said Teodor, smiling. "Would that be too much to ask?"

"You would deny me the chance to thank my benefactor?"

"Yes," said Teodor. "I am certain he knows of your gratitude."

Benelaus stared at Teodor for a moment, and then looked at Five, and shook his head. And then, for the first time, he seemed to notice Dacien. He looked back at Teodor with surprise. "I see."

"I wish you didn't," said Teodor. "But ... it was that, or you died. And me, actually. And Five."

"Five? How did he get hit?"

Teodor sighed. "My carelessness got him infected with the spell. Can we leave it at that, please?"

Benelaus nodded. "It seems like a good place to stop the conversation. Did ... no. Stop, right." He looked around. "So ... do we have a plan, My Lord Fog?"

"Something like one. Perhaps, Warrior Benelaus, you might call me simply Teodor ?"

"If you would call me Benelaus ," he replied.

"Yes. I will be going to parley with the Imperial Army tomorrow morning, and see if I can convince them to ... conform to the Truces of Xarbydis."

Benelaus shook his head. "I don't see how you're going to do that."

Teodor shrugged. "I was planning on doing it from a distance." Dacien wondered if he were jesting.

He wasn't. A quick vision - without a lens, so no one but Teodor could see what lay outside the tent - convinced the gray minotaur it was safe. Teodor had asked Dacien to accompany him, on the grounds that the human would know more about the Imperial Army and human customs. He was not planning on needing a bodyguard, and Five would not be helpful. Benelaus, also, was resting, still not yet fully recovered from his wounds. From somewhere, Teodor had even found some clothes for the human, although they were a bit large.

When Dacien stepped from the tent, it was like stepping though a blur - and then the tent he'd come from was simply not there. When he tried, he could feel the faintest, tiniest hint cold gray magic, but even that was insufficient for him to find it. Teodor watched him for a few moments. "A good trick, is it not?"

The minotaur camp had, as Teodor predicted, been ravaged. Tents were torn and ripped, equipment lay strewn about, and Teodor's face showed nothing but anger at the cavalier way the encampment had been ransacked. He said nothing, though, asking only about Imperial parley customs. They were simple enough, a white flag, and that was easy enough to procure - well, a gray flag, at least. "It will do," Teodor said, taking a tent pole and a sheet of tent-fabric. A whisper of magic and it faded to pale gray, a passable imitation of white. "I never thought that would be useful," he sighed.

The human encampment was almost a mile away, but Teodor had wrapped them in another shell of nondiscernment almost as soon as they left the tent. Teodor stopped when they saw sentries, and around a hill and a rise was the Imperial Army, a huge encampment that dwarfed the smaller minotaur one.

It was laid out in a standard arrangement of tents and avenues and carts and oxen, armed and patrolling sentries, and after years in the Army, it should have looked like home. All Dacien felt, though, was a strange sense of distance. If this had ever been his home, it wasn't now, and he wondered if he'd just thought it had been. Had he confused home with simply familiar ?

"Are you ready?"

"Perfect," Teodor said of the rise, apparently oblivious to the military below them. He took them up it, and down a little on the army side, less than a hundred feet from the oblivious sentry, tramping a large circle in the grass. Gray magic flared around it, the metaphysical cool of the spell contrasting with the warmth of the sun on Dacien's skin. "That's the nondiscernment," Teodor told Dacien.

And then he trod a smaller circle, and more magic wove in and out, a much more complex spell. "This one," murmured Teodor, "is more difficult. I wish you could support me as a lens ... but I'll need you in the parley. Essentially, this is a double seeming, I'll throw our image - replicate what's in this circle - out there, and replicate anything that enters the circle here. So we will appear to be walking down the road, holding this parley flag - but in reality, we'll be here, safe within the hidden bounds."

"I'm not sure I understand," Dacien said, looking out.

"Watch," said Teodor. "Right at the curve of the road, over there."

And right around the road walked a gray minotaur, accompanied by a human in poorly fitting clothes, carrying a gray flag. "I'm adjusting the image a bit, so we appear to be walking. Gliding would look funny. I won't be able to do it when ... "

The sentries had caught sight, and now they were seeing action. A trumpet blew a series of notes - enemy parley sighted - and one of the sentries was running to the Commander's tent to report in person. Teodor let the image advance a bit, and then halted it, in the road. "That seems close enough to be respectful, yet too far to threaten. Doesn't it?"

"Maybe," said Dacien, watching an officer set forth from the camp. "They're just sending a Commander-of-Hundreds, not Thousands, though."

"To determine our ..."

Watching the officer blink into existence in their little hidden circle as he approached the image far below was disconcerting, even if Teodor had warned him that it would happen.

"I am Vigo, Commander of Hundreds, and I represent the Supreme Commander of the Sixth Army, Senator Josephus. Who are you, and why have you come?" Vigo spoke Latin, sharp with the accent of the western lands.

"I am Teodor Lord Fog Lycaili, and I have been deputized to speak for Clan Lycaili to this armed force," the gray minotaur said calmly, in the same tongue. "I would like to discuss some matters with your Supreme Commander."

"The Senator invites you to his camp, and would be honored if you would join him."

"Without expressing disrespect or distrust," Teodor said, "I point out that this is, to my knowledge, the first parley between Lycaili and your Empire. I argued long and hard to gain it, and there are those in my Clan who do not think humans may be trusted."

Vigo started to look offended.

"I am not among them," Teodor continued calmly, "and yet they had to be mollified. I am sure you understand political necessity. One of the concessions I was forced to make was that any contact I make must be observed, at all times. To approach your camp closer than this is infeasible at this time. I apologize if it seems disrespectful. It seemed to me that a short conversation would be worth some inconvenience on the part of your Supreme Commander, and I hope I do not impose."

"I can relay your message to the Senator," the officer replied. "And ... anything else you might want to add."

"Yesterday you engaged forces of Clan Ouroborous; I do not know if you are aware of the differences," Teodor said. "We are interested in any survivors, and are willing to pay ransom, or accept a parole while we discuss ... future engagements."

"I don't doubt that," Vigo said, trying to repress his smile. "I will inform him. Is there more?"

"Yes, I have a message for him. If he will not come, then I will deliver it to you, but ... it is meant for his ears. And it is one that begs a reply. As I said, I think what I have to say will be worth the trouble of meeting me."

Vigo saluted politely, and walked back towards the tent; as his image passed the inner circle it vanished, and Dacien repressed a shudder. Teodor was content to wait, and it was almost an hour before a group of humans came back.

"There's Vigo with them, and ... it doesn't look like any senator I've seen. The one with the gold is a Commander of Thousands, though. He might be the second-in-command."

"Or the Senator himself?" asked Teodor, interested.

"Probably not. A Senator would wear a red robe, or at least have a red sash."

"At least they seem to take this conference more seriously, although I would have liked to get some impression of this Supreme Commander. Perhaps that is why they hide him ... do you think one of them might be a mage? I can't tell from this distance. And a mage ... might be able to identify these images as only images."

"I hope not," Dacien said. "But ... could they trace them back to here?"

Teodor just shook his head. "It would take a mage far more skilled than I to find us. I think we're safe, and if not, well, life cannot be lived in perfect security."

"No. But ... you'd be in more danger than I would."

Teodor said nothing, merely giving the human an interested look.

The blink as the group appeared again did not surprise Dacien this time. Vigo stepped forward. "May I introduce Commander of Thousands Nestor. Commander, Teodor Lord Fog Lycaili."

"Lord Fog."

"Commander," Teodor returned, politely. "Commander Vigo has informed you of my proposed agenda? Were there items you wished to add?"

"There may be," the commander said. "Senator Josephus sends his regrets, but he's not feeling well. I am deputized to act in his stead."

"Very well. First, the matter of prisoners. Minotaurs make poor prisoners. On behalf of Lycaili and Ouroborous, I am prepared to either accept parole or offer ransom."

"Yes. What are the terms of these?"

"Ransom. The minotaur is returned to his clan without constraint. Parole. The minotaur is returned to his clan with the understanding he may not raise arms against your Empire for five years - regardless of circumstance. Which is to say, you will not meet him again on the field of battle."

"I understand, and ..." Commander-of-Thousands Nestor sighed. "Unfortunately the minotaurs we took captive did not survive the night."

"Unsurprising," said Teodor in a cold voice. "Your weapons are fearsome and deadly."

"They are," the commander returned. "It must have been unpleasant to see humans with the same advantage in battle minotaurs have previously enjoyed."

Teodor blinked. "Fearsome and deadly, as I said. But, Commander, you are in some error. Minotaurs enter battle armed and armored only with steel weapons - I admit that we know steel is outside of your capability, but we do not use the arrows and weighted darts you employ. We pit muscle and skill against muscle and skill, no more than that."

"You claim that's equal?" The commander said disparingly.

"No. And if your fearsome deadly weapons have bought you anything, it is the right to parley with us on the terms of battle. We will listen." Teodor's voice turned much darker.

"But you are wrong - very wrong - on one point. We do have such fearsome, deadly weapons. So fearsome and so deadly that all minotaur clans agreed - in a document known as the Truces of Xarbydis - that we not use them; that we would restrict ourselves to hand-held weapons and the skill and strength of their wielders. And we made that covenant, Commander, in the wasteland that had once been the Xarbydis Labyrinth - the great city of Clan Xarbydis. That clan is no more, and Xarbydis Labyrinth is still a wasteland, poisoned and wracked by the fearsome, deadly weapons of what was once Clan Scylla - they were not destroyed to the last minotaur, but they, too, took the brunt of Xarbydis' fearsome, deadly weapons. And they did not survive Clan Xarbydis by more than a handful of years."

"We have never signed this, or even been aware of it."

"True," said Teodor. "A point I pressed in conference. We never saw a need to communicate with you - your empire, that is, and I myself consider that little more than arrogance. We should be grateful that your experimentation with fearsome deadly weapons resulted in so little loss. And trust me, Commander, as painful as the loss of Clan Ouroborous's army was, as terrible a state in places their clan in, you have wounded them; Clan Ouroborous is crippled and broken from last night."

"I cannot say I have much sympathy."

Teodor shook his head. "And do you think that Clan Ouroborous - any Clan - will refrain from using their terrible weapons against you?"

"Is that a threat?"

Teodor shrugged. "It is a consequence, Commander, of breaking a treaty - however inadvertently - that protected you. It is now broken. All that remains is for Clan Ouroborous to inform their neighbors of their intent to revenge themselves with these otherwise forbidden weapons, pledge they will be used only against you, and ... we will see what horrors they have in store."

"And where does Clan Lycaili stand in this?"

"I," said Teodor, "am loathe to see these weapons unleashed on any target, for any purpose. I would ask the Senator to accept these strictures in principle , and refrain from further aggression until we - that is, human representatives and minotaur representatives - have had a chance to discuss the details, agree on what warfare is permissible, and who knows, perhaps even render this constant skirmishing unnecessary. Under those circumstances, Clan Ouroborous would find their intent to retaliate vetoed by their neighbors, I hope."

"You hope."

"I do," Teodor said. "But I am a single Lord of a single Clan, a very progressive and peaceful Clan, who had to argue mightily and concede much merely to have the opportunity to talk with you. Many of my fellow Lords are aghast at treating humans or human institutions with sufficient gravitas as to negotiate with them. To them, your empire is no different than a tremendous herd of cattle gone feral, threatening a stampede." During this, the Commander and his retinue had grown increasingly upset.

"Maybe after we've stampeded a little, you'll feel different," the Commander said.

"I didn't say I agreed with the judgment," Teodor said mildly. "I said only that many - perhaps even most - of my fellows consider it so. It does you no good to protest to me. I've wanted to open formal relationships with your Empire for years."

"I see," the Commander said. "The Senator asked me to listen to you, and I've listened. I am in turn charged to tell you that the Senator is ready to accept an unlimited surrender."

Teodor blinked in surprise. "Ah. Well. Sometimes, even minotaur lords need plain speaking. Your actions yesterday will be seen as despicable," and there was an angry murmur from the group, "cowardly," and the Commander started to object, but Teodor rode over him, "and dishonorable. No minotaur would ever surrender to such. I do not say you were - I think your ignorance is a valid excuse, especially since we - all the clans - are complicit in keeping you ignorant. But you are ignorant no longer. Any further use of proscribed weapons will be considered a knowing provocation - and I guarantee you that you do not want us to respond in kind. Is that sufficiently clear speaking?"

"Yes."

"That included your accursed weaponry. The use of any kind of lingering or debilitating curse is included in the Truces. There is an exception for fast-healing blades, but the curse on your ..." Teodor paused, and took in the surprised look of the Commander. "Did your mages tell you that the curse was undetectable, or unstoppable, and would doom any mage who even dared to touch it?"

The Commander said nothing.

Teodor shook his head sadly. "We have explored these terrible weapons fully. I tell you, equal to equal, this is a path of destruction and using theses things guarantees only loss. We have proscribed them not out of weakness or fear - but because they are poison, and will as surely slay the wielder."

"I will convey your words to the Senator, but - "

A thunderous boom cut him off - it was a loud, sharp, explosive sound that shocked Dacien. The fragile threads holding the illusion frayed and snapped as Teodor's hand swept out, smashing Dacien to the ground even as the figments of the Imperial officers faded from the circle. Even from the ground, Dacien could see a huge cloud of gray-yellow smoke, and the confusion in the group.