I, Dacien

A Story by Onyx Tao © 2012

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

Chapter Sixteen: Disorientation

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Socks knew that there were any number of things he didn't understand. He didn't know what the Guildmaster bought and sold, and he didn't know why the Master of Slave had been so nice to him after he'd thrown soup on the Master, and although he was pretty sure the Master of Slave hadn't brought him to the markets to sell him, he wasn't sure it was just to ward off unwanted attention. That had to be part of it, of course, because a minotaur would never lie, but a minotaur would tell less than the complete truth, too. He had thought he would find out what that second reason was, but the errand into the city seemed to be concluded, and although he had learned a lot, he still wasn't entirely sure why the Guildmaster's Master of Slave had brought him along.

The two ferals the Master had purchased had followed them, a little unwillingly but calmly enough through the city gates. They'd taken off running, though, once they were a little outside the city. Maybe they thought that by going in different directions one of them could get away, but how that one would get out of the steel and leather restraint holding their arms behind them, Socks had no idea. Maybe they figured the first step was just to get away.

There was no chance of that, of course. The Master had simply told Socks, "Stay here," and blurred after them. No human could outrun a minotaur, and the Master was back with the first one in under a minute. The warlord chained and locked him to the carriage, and then vanished again. The other must have used the minute to hide, because it took the pale green minotaur nearly three minutes to reappear, moving normally, dragging the human behind him. Socks was afraid the Master would be angry, but he didn't look or act as if he were angry.

"You can't outrun a minotaur," Socks said, quietly, in his slow Latin, while the Master was still far away.

The human just stared at him. Since he was gagged, as well as wearing the arm restraints, it was all he could do, except maybe glare, but he didn't look angry, either. More resigned, Socks thought. Maybe wondering if the Master was going to break his legs, and Socks had to admit he was wondering that, too.

The Master of Slave did nothing other than to chain the second human to the carriage. "Although I could not drag two resisting ferals through the streets, the additional weight of the carriage and horses will do that, regardless of whether legs are broken or no. You may walk after the carriage, or you may be dragged, as you choose," he said, getting onto the carriage. "Socks, follow the carriage as well."

"Yes, Master," Socks said, surprised. He'd ridden with the minotaur on the way here, and he'd thought he'd ride back, but, of course, it was the Master's decision. At least he wasn't chained to the carriage, which made it easier to jog back. The carriage was going slowly -- Socks wasn't sure he could have run the five miles back to Iudas' house. He watched the other two; they tested the chains from time to time, but they were secure, and the two humans didn't seem to have any trouble keeping up, even with their hands locked behind them. They didn't say anything, although they gave Socks an occasional cold stare.

By the time they reached Iudas' home, Socks was exhausted, and even the two ferals looked tired. The carriage didn't stop at the house, but proceeded directly to the stables, and so they followed it; the ferals because they were chained to it, and Socks because the Master had told him to.

It stopped at the carriage house, and several slaves came out. In a few moments, the horses were moving towards the stables, and the carriage was being wheeled into its shed.

"Wait," the Master said, and unlocked the two ferals from it. "Carry on," he said. "You three stay here." The pale green minotaur watched the door close behind the carriage, and nodded to himself. "It is customary for slaves to be given new designations." He walked over to them, and ran his hand through the soft yellow hair of the paler one. "Straw, I think. You will be Straw." He turned to the other. "Nothing really suggests itself ... Bale, then. Straw and Bale, that will do. And this is Socks." The Latin of his name was like a bucket of cold water on Socks.

"There are one or two things that you need to know," the Master continued calmly. "They are undoubtedly not the things you want to know. First, you are mine. You belong to me, and I am responsible for you. Food is ... your right from me. You will never go hungry, and you will never be punished with hunger. Warmth and shelter is your right from me, and you will never be punished with cold, or exposure. If you are hurt, you will receive care. These things are yours to expect, and you may demand them, of me, or any minotaur here. Do you understand?"

Socks simply nodded; the other two said nothing, and merely watched the Master.

"Did you understand that?"

Straw, and then Bale, nodded.

"Well and good. Those are my duties to you. Yours are obedience and honesty. I will have obedience from you." The minotaur fell silent for a short time, long enough for Socks to consider the wording carefully. He hadn't said he expected obedience, which was the usual thing to say because ... he obviously didn't expect it. He had said that he would have obedience. Socks had heard several variations on this talk, simply because the Master of Slave always gave it to new slaves, although ... it wasn't generally like this. "Honesty ... is harder to compel, and so I will punish deception more stringently. However serious your error or deed, dishonesty will make it worse. Mistakes may be corrected. Lies are harder to set right, although ... I will give you a chance to do so, if I may.

"I described honesty as a duty. This means not only that you are honest, but if I mistake or misunderstand something that is said, or done, your duty is to correct that mistake or misunderstanding. It is possible to deceive with nothing but truth; it is still deception, it is dereliction and it is shameful, and it just as worthy of punishment.

"Minotaur take duty and honor seriously," the Master said. "Slaves are not beneath these things; you may take pride in your duty and honor, even as I take pride in mine." The minotaur contemplated them -- all three of them, Socks realized, with puzzlement. "Come." The minotaur went towards the stables, and Socks followed immediately. The other two followed.

They were led through the stables, where the horses were being settled, and back into another stable -- this one empty, or almost empty. There were two stablehands, Pitch and Tock, and Socks nodded to them as he walked in. A few moments later, Straw and Bale were there, too.

"Pitch, you and Tock get ... get all of the stalls cleaned and refreshed," the Master said, stepping forward, and switching to Latin. "Socks, come here. Up on the table."

The examination that followed was humiliatingly complete. Socks knew that his masters had the right to examine him, or to do anything they needed, but when he'd moved into the house, his overseer had explained that Socks was being given responsibility for himself; if he hurt himself, or didn't feel well, or even if he just felt different, somehow, he was to come and let his overseer know. It had made him feel a little more trusted, that instruction ... obviously he'd destroyed that trust when he let his Master down.

Socks didn't even pay attention to the soft Latin mutters of Dellios, as the minotaur probed and prodded him, running his fingers through his hair, feeling his scalp, testing the firmness of his arms and legs, rolling his balls -- with great care -- in his fingers, pulling back the foreskin to examine him completely, even checking his ass. At least, judging by the positive tone, he hadn't been found too wanting. Maybe the Master would see he could be trusted again. Sock hoped he would.

Socks was unprepared for Dellios to say, very quietly, in Greek, "Well done, Socks. I'm most pleased." Socks tried not to gape in confusion, but he just nodded, and somehow suppressed his urge to ask for an explanation. He swung himself off the table, reminding himself that he didn't need to understand, that if he needed to understand, the Master would have explained it to him. All he needed to focus on was that, for whatever inexplicable reason, he hadn't lost his Master's confidence. He hoped. But then ... he turned around, to ask if he had, somehow, done something to lose it to begin with -- it was right to ask to clarify what was

"Satisfactory," Dellios said, more loudly. "You may wait there, Socks. Bale. On the table." Dellios waited for a moment. "Bale."

The feral just stared at him.

"Bale. On the table." Socks heard a certain heaviness, now, in the Master's voice, not quite weariness, but ... an expectation that words wouldn't be enough, and the Master was using them only to go through the motions. "Now."

The dark-haired human shook his head no.

Before he'd finished, the green minotaur was standing behind him, and the restraints were open. More slowly, since Socks could actually see him move, Dellios picked Bale up, moved him to the table, and fastened a single chain around his right leg before Bale twisted himself in an attempt to get out of the minotaur's grip. Straw took a half-step forward, even in the restraints, but stopped.

"I would rather not fasten the other chains on you," Dellios said. "But I shall, if it makes this easier for you."

"Easier for me?" the human said. "What a load of shit."

"What an unpleasant phrase," Dellios said distastefully. "Do not use it again. Nor is it accurate. Examining you will be less intrusive, less painful, and quicker if you do not require restraint."

"It's a load of shit," the human repeated. "You don't ..." he stopped talking as the gag snapped back into place. The green blur resolved itself back into a minotaur, and Dellios proceeded to buckle the human to the table, ignoring the muffled sounds.

"Straw. If you answer my questions honestly and promptly, I will forgo the punishment your swordbrother is due," Dellios said as he finished. "When the two of you were in the army, did either of you have discipline problems? Refusal to obey your commanders, deliberate disregard of orders -- anything like that?"

"What do you mean by punishment?" Straw asked, carefully.

"The consequences of disobedience. When addressing any minotaur, do not neglect the honorific of 'Sir' or, in my case, 'Master," Dellios said. "I understand it will take some time for courtesy to become habitual, but I feel you are both capable and competent, and will learn."

"You can think that, but it's a load of shit."

Dellios sighed. "Five lashes for use of that phrase, and another five for failure to address me as 'Master'. Socks, please fetch me the whip over there." Socks hurried to obey.

"Make it a hundred," suggested Straw.

"An additional five," said Dellios, "for the failure to use the honorific will be sufficient." Dellios accepted the whip from Socks.

The whip sliced into Bale's unprotected back, and the human, not expecting it, twisted in his chains as a muffled scream sounded.

"What are you doing?" screamed Straw, as the second line of bloody red appeared across Bale's back.

"I will forgive that failure," said Dellios. "You are being punished."

"Then why are you ..." and then Straw's voice cut off . "No, he didn't disobey you, I did. What are you doing?"

"My tolerance for your lack of respect has expired," Dellios said. "That will be an additional five lashes." Another blow landed on Bale.

"Please ... Master, Master, there, are you happy?"

"No," said Dellios. "I am unhappy. I have explained why." Another stripe of blood appeared across Bale's back with a loud snap.

"But I'm the one who disobeyed you," Straw said, and then added a hasty "Master."

"And this is your punishment," Dellios said calmly. "I admit I had some concerns, but I seem to have chosen well. Already I see a salutary effect in your speech."

"Master, if I call you Master, will you stop?"

"The punishment stands at twenty lashes," Dellios said. "Of which I have dealt three. However, if you are sincere in your reformation, I will permit you to take the remaining seventeen." The minotaur paused, and Socks could see Straw thinking about it, looking at his friend -- no, sword-brother -- on the table, and then the heavy whip in Dellios's hand. "I understand your reluctance. The blows are painful ..."

"You think I care about that?"

Dellios was silent.

"Well?"

"I am giving you the opportunity to finish your statement to me," Dellios said. "Correctly."

"Master," Straw spit out.

"I think that might have been more respectfully said, but it will suffice for here and now," Dellios said softly. "However, I wasn't done speaking. Had you waited, I would have said, the blows are painful, but nowhere near so hard as taking responsibility for the error itself. If you wish to take that responsibility, I will allow you the opportunity to do so. You must ask for each stroke, for yourself in lieu of your sword-brother, and thank me for it after it is delivered. This will not be easy for you," the green minotaur said quietly. "It will be so hard that I am certain that it would be easier for your sword-brother to bear the remainder of the strokes himself."

Straw stood staring, and another stroke of the whip landed across Bale's back.

"You said ..."

"I know what I said," Dellios interrupted, raising his arm. "But I do not enjoy this, and I want it done."

"Please Master may I have the ..." Straw paused for a minute, unsure.

"Fifth," Socks whispered. "Fifth stroke."

"Fifth stroke," Straw said quickly.

"You may," Dellios said, with a quelling glance at Socks. "Socks, remove the armlocks. Straw, present your back for it."

No more than a moment after Socks had taken the restraints off and Straw had turned to face the wall, the crack! of the whip sounded.

After a very short pause, Socks whispered up to the feral, "You need to thank him and ask for the next one. If you wait too long ..."

"Thank you, Master. Master, may I have the sixth stroke?"

"You may," said Dellios. Crack!

"Thank you, Master. Master, may I have the seventh stroke?"

"Certainly," said Dellios. Crack!

"Thank you, Master. Master, may I have the eighth stroke?"

"Yes," said Dellios. Crack!

"Thank you, Master. Master, may I have the ninth stroke?"

"You may," said Dellios. Crack!

"Thank you, Master. Master, may I have the tenth stroke?"

"Yes," said Dellios. Crack!

"Thank you, Master. Master, may I have the eleventh stroke?"

"No," the minotaur said. "I am impressed by your willingness to take the blows you have brought on your sword-brother for yourself, and you have clearly learned how to address me properly. I do not think the remaining ten strokes would improve you, so there is little point to delivering them. I will forgive them in their entirety -- if you ask me to do so."

"Ask!" prompted Socks. "Quickly!"

"Master," said Straw, "may I have the eleventh stroke?"

"I already said no," Dellios said regretfully. "And it appears that there does remain something to learn from the next ten, as well."

"Ask him!" hissed Socks. "It's not too late ..."

"That will be sufficient, Socks."

"Yes, Master," Socks said, defeated, in Greek. How long, he wondered, would it take Straw to figure out just what that defiance was going to cost him? The feral didn't seem stupid, just ... well, full of bravado, Socks supposed. That wasn't a bad thing, and the masters even liked it, sometimes, but ... not when directed at them. Never when directed at them.

Socks was certain Straw had realized what would happen before the whip sliced Bale again. But he probably didn't realize that he could still ask ... only the Master had told him to stop prompting Straw. Still ... Socks nudged Straw. The feral glared at him, but Socks just twitched his head toward the green minotaur who, Socks was certain, was choosing not to notice them at the moment. Ask, Socks mimed saying. Ask.

After a moment -- and another whip stroke -- Straw did. "Master, I ask you to forgive the rest of this punishment."

Dellios stopped. "I am so fond and foolish that I will consider doing so. Explain to me what you did wrong, and why it was wrong, and I will accede."

"Uh ..." said Straw, looking at the minotaur in confusion. "I ... know what I did, but ... I don't know how to explain it, Master."

Dellios nodded. "I offered to forgive the remainder of this punishment, if you did something which showed you had learned. Instead, you rejected my offer."

"Yes."

"You did so out of defiance," Dellios said. "Do you understand better now? Can you find your own words? If not, you may use mine," the minotaur said with the twist of the muzzle that indicated amusement.

Straw nodded. "I defiantly refused your offer, and because I did so in defiance, it was wrong of me. I ... I am sorry, Master, and ..." the human seemed to be forcing the words out now, "I beg you to forgive me, Master."

"I do so gladly," Dellios responded, and then he continued in Greek. "Socks, clean and put the whip away. Oil it. I entertain no doubts that I'll need it again, and perhaps even frequently, but I can hope otherwise. I think I'd forgotten just how difficult ferals can be, and taking on three of them, whatever was I thinking?"

"Master, you were thinking that it would be a shame to split them up, and ... forgive me, Master, but I think it was a wonderful thing for you to do," Socks said. "Even if it is more work."

"Hardly your concern," said Dellios affectionately, and switched back to Latin. "Attend your duties."

"Yes, Master," and Socks went to do as he said.

Bale's examination went more slowly than Socks' had, and Dellios stopped, several times, to ask how Bale had broken this or that bone, or the source of a scar.

"I think I'll need to fix the leg," Dellios said, after he was done. "The other breaks appear to have healed correctly, but your right leg will be a problem. It hurts after you've been walking for any distance, doesn't it?"

"Yes. Master."

"This scar --" and Dellios ran a furred finger over a thick weal on Bale's arm "-- goes into the muscle itself. I can tell it's causing you some stiffness. We'll fix that, too, but neither of these are urgent." Dellios unbuckled the straps, and turned to Straw. "Your turn. Would you prefer the restraints?"

"No, Master," the human said, sounding almost as if he meant it.

"I will not think less of you," the minotaur said. "But I approve the determination to behave properly." Dellios looked thoughtful for a moment. "Whatever your motivation."

Straw surprised Socks, managing to make it through the exam without being restrained, even when the minotaur tested his maleness and examined his stones. Straw gritted his teeth, and endured while Dellios went over his back with a lotion. "It will sting," Dellios had said, "but it will heal faster, and the residual discomfort will fade more quickly as well.

Straw was less marked than Bale, but Dellios still didn't look entirely pleased after the examination, his muzzle wrinkling into a faint frown. "All seems well enough," Dellios announced at the end. "All of you will be stabled here." The minotaur paused. "Bale -- there," he said, pointing to the first stall. "Straw -- there," and the finger indicated the second stall. "And Socks here," he said, tapping the fourth stall.

Socks swallowed disappointment that the Master wasn't going to take him back to his room, but he'd been fortunate enough to be there already. He stepped into the stall, and ... and ... at least the cot was clean. It had a sheet, and blanket, so he'd be comfortable. Although ... was the Master just going to leave him here? With two angry ferals? "Master?"

"Yes, Socks?" Dellios said, which was a clear hint that he should speak in Latin.

He decided to ignore the hint. "Are you going to leave us alone, Master? I ..."

Dellios nodded. "Ah. Not precisely alone, Socks. I will permit no harm to you. But it will be convenient if these two offer some form of misbehavior. They will have the illusion of the opportunity to do so, but only the illusion."

"Yes, Master."

"This is a new situation for them, Socks. Some level of fear is understandable. But ferals, despite their many flaws, rarely lack for courage, so I do not think it will affect them unduly."

"Yes, Master."

Three days later, Socks wasn't sure if that had really worked out as well as he'd expected. The ferals had tried to bully him -- to find out where Master kept things like food, clothes, blankets ... everything one might need to escape. They hadn't asked about a road pass, but they probably didn't realize they'd need one, and Socks hadn't told them about it.

It didn't seem fair. He hadn't tried to escape. He hadn't taken the sugared oats. He had even told Master, quietly, about what had happened. So why, when Master decided to put the two ferals into heavy restraints, did Master put him in them, too? Master had his reasons, of course, Socks told himself, but ... he hated having his arms locked behind him. The ferals hated it, too, and they were getting angrier and angrier.

What was Master doing to them? To him? All Master had said, was, "Trust me." Of course Socks trusted his Master. But it would be nice to know what he was doing. Or what he was supposed to be doing. Or what Master thought he was supposed to be doing.

Practicing walking? Running? Socks knew how to do that; even the obnoxious ferals knew how to do that. Maybe not with the restraints locking their arms behind them, but ... it wasn't that hard. Mostly. It made him feel unbalanced, and ... worse, that his Master didn't trust him. That Master thought he needed the restraints, and that, Socks thought, was what he really didn't like. Was it something he'd done? Something he hadn't done?

Master said that the spilled bisque wasn't his fault. Even agreed that throwing it on Master Iudas had been an accident, and ... and Socks had tried to believe it. But if that was so, why ... why was he being treated like a feral? He wasn't a feral.

So why was he being treated like one?

When he finally got up the courage to ask, Master just said, "You are not being treated like them. They are being treated like you."

That gave Socks something to think about, as he ran. Master called it conditioning, and the ferals seemed used to it, although they complained about having to wear sandals during the long runs around the Masters' estate.

Ferals complained about the wierdest things. The one -- the only -- good thing about the restraints was that it meant Master groomed them. Socks knew, all the humans knew, just how good it was when one of the minotaurs picked you out as his, and Socks had hoped, secretly, quietly, that maybe -- just maybe -- Master Dellios had picked him.

But he hadn't.

Why he was being trained with two ferals -- as if he were a feral himself -- he didn't know. And Master's answer, that he wasn't being treated like a feral, just confused him. It didn't make sense. It didn't make any sense at all!

Fortunately, if he ran long enough, if he ran hard enough, he could stop thinking about it.

It was the seventh, or maybe the eighth day since Master Dellios had put the armlocks on. He'd take them off, briefly, while he was washing them, but they went back on, and Socks knew there was just no point in asking for them to be left off. Master would take them off when he was ready to, and not one moment before. He just wished the ferals would figure that out and stop whining already. Dellios was just locking the restraint back on him after washing him down, and Socks was feeling good, really good, from the run and the gentle massage afterward.

"Warlord Dellios?" a deep voice said. "The Guildmaster suggested you might be here." Socks turned to see an Ebon minotaur standing at the door, and one big even for an Ebon.

"Yes," the Master said, and paused. "Grandmaster," he said, sounding surprised. "Welcome. Please, be welcome." Dellios glanced about, as if looking for a chair or something to offer his visitor. Custom strongly suggested that a visitor be offered something, and there simply wasn't anything in the stable to offer, unless the Master wanted to offer his visitor oatmeal or straw. Not that it wasn't excellent oatmeal, or clean, fresh straw, but it wasn't the kind of thing one offered a visitor.

Especially not an important one. Socks wasn't quite sure what a Grand Master was, or meant, but it sounded important, maybe even more important than Guild Master.

"There is water," Dellios said after a short pause. "If you thirst."

"I thank you, but no, I have no needs to be seen to."

"Then, Grandmaster Wolachya, what can I do for you?"

The Ebon frowned. "You can, I hope, be as gracious as your cousin, and accept my apology."

"Your ..." Dellios paused. "I hope I may. But I am unclear on what you are apologizing for."

"Ah. A student of mine, who is as thoughtless as he is clumsy, intruded on your -- and the Guildmaster's -- privacy several days ago," the Ebon admitted. "I have disciplined him, but he is ..."

"Would it not be his place to offer the apology?" Dellios said with a hint of mildness that didn't fool Socks a bit, and Socks doubted it fooled the Ebon, either.

"I expelled him, and he has left Leviathan," Wolachya said. "It is -- was, was his responsibility to apologize and make amends, but I am afraid I let my temper interfere. It was not until I, ah, calmed down somewhat that I realized the affront remained."

"Left Leviathan?" said Dellios.

"Never to return," answered the other.

"What, never?"

"Well, not in the foreseeable future," the minotaur said. "Lubor was originally from Mosura, and set sail five days ago. I do not expect -- or want -- him back. When I told him to practice lurking, I intended for him to do so in public, in Leviathan. I did not intend for him to ... to ..."

"Spy on Guildmaster Iudas?"

The minotaur winced. "Spy," he repeated, as if the word offended him. "Yes. I did not intend for him to spy on anyone."

"I understand," Dellios said after a long moment. "Of course you did not."

"Nevertheless," Wolachya said, as if the words pained him. "He so interpreted them, and he was my student, and thus, my responsibility. I beg your forgiveness, Warlord, for the inconvenience."

"Inconvenience?" asked Dellios blankly. "What inconvenience? The disturbance of my privacy, that I value. The privacy that I am pleased to offer the Guildmaster's guests, that I value. But I am hardly inconvenienced."

"Then, I beg your forgiveness for those things, as well."

The warlord nodded. "You have it. I trust it will not happen again."

"No," the ebon minotaur said. "It will not."

"Well, that seems like everything. I will let you finish your apologizing, and let you go."

"Finish?" asked Wolachya. "How, finish. What remains unfinished?"

"The unfortunate slave who took the brunt of the blame, of course," Dellios said coolly. "By happy coincidence, or something like it, this is he," and a dark green hand brushed Socks. "And the guests of the evening, I suppose ... did Iudas furnish you a list?"

"No," said Wolachya. "He did not. He did not think it appropriate."

"No?" asked Dellios, with that same coolness. "Well, I hardly think I can tell you what is appropriate. I must leave that to your own sense of propriety. Still, it seems to me that they are the ones compromised by this spying."

"Unintentional."

"Unintentional, yes, of course. Unintentional spying. And of course, my slave, who ... is not where he would be had this spying, this unintentional spying, occurred. I doubt, for instance, he would be in restraints. It seems unlike to have happened, else."

"I cannot impeach your reasoning," Wolachya said stiffly. "Slave, I do beg your forgiveness for ... whatever rebuke may have fallen on you. And," the ebon minotaur said, turning back to Dellios, "I would beg his Master forgive, and make amends for any harm, as well."

Dellios looked at Socks, and Wolachya simply stood, waiting.

"Master?" whispered Socks. "What ..."

"You may forgive him," said Dellios, "or not. You may even withhold decision, if you would like to forgive him, but cannot bring yourself to do so, just yet. Whatever your decision, I assure you that I will not find fault with it. It is yours to grant, to deny, or to consider, as you think best. Take the time you require." The green minotaur favored him with a quick smile, and then his face straightened.

Wolachya continued his pose of attentive waiting, as well. Socks looked from one minotaur to another; the large Copper to the even larger Ebon. "I ... forgive you," he said finally.

"I thank you," Wolachya said. "And your Master, for permitting me to pose the request."

"A small thing, to pose a request," Dellios said.

"I see you feel strongly about the matter," Wolachya said.

"I do, Guildmaster."

"Then I am glad I have corrected the affront, with you, and your Master, and your slave."

"I am glad you have."

"I believe my business is concluded."

"That seems a statement utterly justified, and entirely correct."

"And yet,"

"Yet?" asked Dellios.

"I wonder if I might broach a new topic."

"If it is to do with the training of humans, I distinctly hope you would not do so."

"Now is clearly not a good time," said Wolachya. "Perhaps later?"

Dellios shook his head. "It is not a topic I wish to discuss, now or later, Grandmaster."

"I understand," the ebon minotaur ground out. "I thank you for your ... clarity of communication."

"It is nothing; instead, allow me to thank you for respecting my hopes."

Wolachya made a stiff, formal half-bow to Dellios. "I trust any considerate bull would do as much."

"I am not as inclined to be trusting, any more, Grandmaster."

"I am sorry to hear that. I fear I have other matters that demand my attention."

"Do not let me detain you."

"Indeed I would not," said Wolachya, stepping back out of the stable. "Until we meet again."

"Until then," Dellios said, and watched as the Ebon left the room.

Socks looked at Dellios, who was tapping one hoof almost soundlessly on the straw-covered floor, and Dellios looked back at the human, and then to the other two. "Inconvenient," the emerald green minotaur growled. "Socks. I am going to release you, and you will see to the cleaning, care, and feeding of Straw and Bale. Can you do that?"

"Yes Mas -- I mean, Yes, Master."

"Good." Dellios looked at the door distrustfully. "Socks," he said in Greek, "Have you ever seen any minotaur here -- in the stables, I mean -- that you did not recognize?"

Socks shook his head, and then answered, "No, Master."

"Good," Dellios said. "I don't know ... I just don't ... Maybe ..." and then he stopped. More decisively, he turned to face all three of them. "You are forbidden to speak to any minotaur save myself, without my explicit permission. You may state that your Master Dellios has forbidden you to speak. Do you understand this order?"

"Yes, Master," said Socks.

"And you?" Dellios said to Straw and Bale.

"We understand," Straw said, and Bale echoed him.

Dellios took a deep breath. "You have pleased me by using Greek, unbidden. You have pleased me by using Greek, unbidden. And you will be rewarded for it, when I return. And you will be rewarded for it, when I return." He paused, as if to say more, but he said nothing, and quickly strode through the door.

"What was that?" asked Straw, after the minotaur's footsteps had quieted.

"I have no idea," Socks said. "None."

The reward that followed, however, stunned the two ferals. When Dellios returned an hour later, he had the third feral, the one Dellios had left behind at the pens with the pale straw-colored hair. He, too, was in heavy restraints with his arms locked behind him. "I am pleased to say that I was able to purchase Wheat, here, after all. I have been holding him for a few days now, teaching him Greek, and it is time, I think, to reunite you three. As a happy coincidence, Wheat turns out to know Greek well." Dellios smiled. "And our further lessons will be in Greek."

The emerald-green minotaur motioned to Socks. "Wheat, you may take Socks' place for now. Socks, you will accompany me." The three ferals were talking, very quickly, in Latin, and Socks could not get more than a smattering of the words, but it was clear that Bale and Straw were happy to see their friend.

It was Bale who remembered to say, "Thank you, Master," and Straw quickly followed.

"I think I said it would be a shame to separate sword-brothers so quickly," Dellios murmured, slowly. "Tomorrow we resume training. Tonight, you may ... reacquaint yourselves."

"Master, may ... ah ... we be loosed, for tonight?" Straw asked hopefully. "Just tonight?"

"That is a reward you may look for in the future," Dellios said. "I do not promise it."

"Yes, Master."

"Although I am pleased you continue to use Greek. Use it as you can."

"Yes, Master," Straw said.

"Socks, come with me," and Dellios led Socks back to the main house, around the back through the garden, and into his room. Dellios stopped as he opened the huge glass doors into his suite, as Iudas was sitting in a chair by the empty fireplace.

"Cousin," said Iudas. "I've been ..." and the pale green minotaur paused as he saw Socks. "Well. I trust our neighbor had words with you?"

"Wolachya? Yes," said Dellios.

"Did you believe him?"

"About what?"

"About not sending his students to spy on us," said Iudas. "I ... am I cynical, Coz?"

"I take it you were not overly impressed with his promises?"

"What promises?" said Iudas. "He promised that it would not happen again, but he did not specify what. Weasel phrases, weasel words, Del. He said nothing that I could hold him to. Nothing!" The minotaur shook his head. "It was like negotiating with an Ungoliant slaver."

"Or a politician," Dellios offered. "He is trained as a warlord. We get taught how to speak like that, so as not to impugn our honor or anyone else's."

"Then you think he may have just been leaving himself an out?"

"I..." Dellios paused. "It might be, as he says, an accident."

"An accident!"

"It might be," Dellios repeated.

"An accident that a Grandmaster has failed to instruct his so-called student in the ethics of tempus?" Iudas said. "Unlikely."

"Everyone makes mistakes," Dellios said. "And a student deficient in one aspect -- ethics -- is all the more likely to be deficient in the practice as well."

"Then is it your judgment that this was the accident Wolachya claims?"

"As your cousin, or your Master of Slave?"

"As my closest family," Iudas said.

"I am not your closest family."

Iudas looked up at that. "Xerxes is not here, Del. And he has been gone ... you are now my closest family. Perhaps not my closest blood, but my closest family. And ... I do not understand this. Why would Wolachya set a spy on us? What would he gain? He's not a merchant, has no close Guild connections."

"I imagine that it's a common training exercise," Dellios said slowly. "He almost said as much."

"Almost!" snapped Iudas. "Almost! He almost said nothing."

"Also true. What do you propose to do?"

"Why..."

"You are vacillating," Dellios said. "You want my advice on whether to do something, or not. Why don't you just ask me instead of chasing snarks?"

Iudas laughed. "You do know me, don't you."

"I should hope I do by now."

"I could seek a Master of Guard, someone skilled enough to detect this lurking," Iudas said after a pause. "A tempus master."

"Are your discussions so sensitive, then?" asked Dellios. "I never thought they were."

"Not usually," Iudas admitted.

"Is the Guild Hall served by someone with that skill?"

"I ... do not know."

"That would seem the most reasonable place to hire someone, not here."

"A good point," Iudas said, getting up. "I shall open the discussion on it tomorrow." He smiled at Dellios. "And I will let you get on with your evening. Who's watching the ferals?"

"Lampert. But I don't expect any issues, not tonight."

Iudas nodded. "Good night, Coz."

"Good night," Dellios said.