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Cold Blood

Chapter Eighteen

Green, Gray, and Red

by

Onyx Tao

This story is licensed under the

Creative Commons Noncommercial Sharealike 3.0 License

"Dacien?" The voice deep, soft, and more of an inquiry than anything else. "Are you awake?" Teodor asked.

"Yes. I mean, yes, Teodor."

There was a slight chuckle. "Dapple's asleep - no, not magically, but ... he's not going to wake up for a while. You did very well, by the way, and I wanted to tell you so."

"Thank you," Dacien said. "But ... I talked with Lord Green. Earlier, I mean."

"Mmmm," said the gray minotaur, quietly.

"He said - well, that training a human was a waste of time, because I'd die before I finished."

"I happen to think he's wrong, and that you will have a reasonably productive lifespan in relation to the time it takes to train you," the gray minotaur said calmly.

"I see. And ... did he tell you about the amulet-signature-thing?"

"What?"

"I asked him why he was wearing it, and he started to tell me it was none of my business, and then he changed his mind. He said that Erik - Lathe, I guess, now, had a signature that made people angry, or something like that."

"Yes, he mentioned that," Teodor said. "And he was wearing the amulet to prevent himself from being affected any further. He wanted me to see if I could figure out just what Lathe was doing, but I told him I'd have to observe him closely for a few months. Which is perfectly true, I might add. But Xavien needs lenses too badly to give him up, even for that short a time."

"But what does he need them for?"

"As Lord Green, he's responsible for any number of things," Teodor said, after a moment, pulling back slightly as Dapple turned a little in his sleep. "Water, mostly, and cropland maintenance. Keeping humans healthy, casting the extension spell on them, any number of little problems. When you passed through Trand's hands - and Trand is an accomplished mage, even if he's not a powerful one - Trand would have made sure you were healthy. Lord Green does that for our humans. It's a great deal of work, and using a lens allows him to slough the effort of working the spell off onto a lens, leaving him able to do the work of ... four or five mages, really. Do you remember that dolmen I charged with a weather spell?"

"Oh, yes," Dacien said.

"A lens could be used that way, too. A spell could be focused and left with the lens, and the lens would keep it coherent without the mage's attention."

"And a lens can be trained - if you can call it training - in a few weeks or less, I suppose," said Dacien.

"Yes," said Teodor. "I've never liked the practice myself, but then I see humans as ... well, more than clever livestock. I see no reason humans shouldn't be integrated more closely into our clans."

"So I'm the test?"

"An experiment. I would hate to see you treated as ... Lathe, or Dog."

"Mikal," said Dacien. "When I knew him."

"You knew him?" said Teodor, sounding astonished. "And you knew Lathe?"

"Yes," said Dacien. There was a moment of silence from the gray minotaur that just kept getting longer, until the human broke it with, "Does that mean something?"

"I don't know," Teodor answered slowly. "You see, perhaps one in five thousand humans become latent and then active mages."

"Then ... me knowing them ..."

"Pardon me," interrupted Teodor. "I understand Greek is not your native tongue. It's my knowing, not me knowing. Knowing is the subject of the sentence, and as such, must be considered a noun-substitute. A gerund, that's the technical term. Gerunds are modified with adjectives, hence my instead of me. Please understand, Dacien, when you speak, I do not wish you to sound like an illiterate uneducated feral."

"Sorry," said Dacien. "I'll try to do better. So my knowing so many other mages is wierd."

"One. Knowing one other latent mage, that is within the bounds of reasonable coincidence. Unlikely, but ... not outlandishly peculiar. Two is ... starting to smell like a non-coincidence, especially ... were you friends, or at least well-acquainted with both Lathe and Dog?" Teodor paused, and then murmured, "I must see if there were any other mage-talented humans taken at Mog Ford; Ruus will know."

"We were friends. All of us. I was hoping ... but ..."

"No, I cannot reunite you. I do not say it cannot happen - but it cannot happen now."

"I didn't think so," Dacien said.

"Did you, pardon me, I know this is a delicate topic but I hope we're past the point of your feral preconceptions, have intimate relations with them? Either? Did they with each other?"

"No," said Dacien, ignoring the brief flicker of irritation at the phrase feral preconceptions. "I didn't. I don't think they did, either."

"Thank you," said Teodor. "It reminds me uncomfortably of what you said you did to Dapple earlier."

"I was thinking that too," said Dacien. "And ... could I ask ... what ... what we did we just do to Dapple?"

"Reasonable," agreed Teodor. "That's actually what I thought you'd want to know."

"I did as you asked, but ..."

"But you feel you need to understand it. It disturbs you."

"Yes!" said Dacien, feeling a rush of gratitude.

"Me, too," admitted Teodor. "I ... I never wanted to do to anyone what ... what I did to Dapple."

"What did you do?"

Teodor was quiet for a moment. "You must understand that Dapple was originally trained and conditioned through much harsher experiences. I don't understand it, and don't pretend to understand it, but it turns out, through conditioning, one's native ability to use tempus can be expanded beyond ... beyond what is normally possible. Or so I gather. The techniques are nothing short of using torture to break down resistance and force body and mind to extremes. I read a book, I remember thinking that the techniques seemed extreme, about training feral humans, that mentioned those techniques, and it mentioned some things ... I can't quite think of the title ... an Ourobouros scholar, if I recall correctly. Well."

"I do not know anything about ninja training; there are secrets to it that ... well. I digress. His obedience was originally linked to that conditioning - both pleasant and unpleasant - pain and pleasure. These controls were placed very deeply in him - deeply in any ninja - because they are so dangerous. You heard me talk about mage-weapons."

"Yeah," said Dacien.

"They are terrifying, and someday I will show you what's left of Xarbydis. It is something every mage should see," Teodor said soberly. "But these - ninja - are just as dangerous. You saw today - without Dapple, we would have all died. Two mages - both of us, as powerful and skilled as anyone might ask a mage to be - and we still would have fallen to them. It was not magic that saved us - but Dapple."

"Now, there are things we can do to protect ourselves. Lord Green sealed the house; no one can enter or leave without his direct assent and knowledge. But we cannot leave the house sealed forever. These ... these ninja are a relic from ... from the years of clan warfare, that ended with Xarbydis. Well, shortly thereafter, anyway, once it was made clear to everyone that no Clan can win such a war."

"And ninja are mentioned in the Truces?"

"No," Teodor said. "Not directly. And technically they are not mage-weapons, so one could argue that the Truces do not ban them. I wish they had been banned. I would have banned them. But, then, I was not around at the time the Truces were arranged."

"Oh."

"That was a very long time ago. Back to Dapple, and slave-training. The initial techniques were worked out, I am sorry to say, on humans. Dog - the one you named Mikal, I think - must have undergone something like that. It corrodes the mind and identity." Teodor paused, and then said, "Dapple is really quite remarkable in that he seems to retain some personality. Or perhaps he's healed some in the time he spent with the Lords of Tongs. And I wander off-topic again," the minotaur sighed. "It's been a long day, I suppose.

"I recall explaining that ... humans are attracted to minotaurs, did I not?"

"Dapple told me more, that it's sweat, mainly, and piss."

"Urine. Yes," said Teodor. "Both of those. And the effect can be stronger than mere attraction."

"Dapple said he was addicted to it," Dacien answered.

"I see you've had some serious discussions with him," Teodor said, after a moment. "I did, I admit, underplay the effects. Yes. It's addictive. Primarily to humans, but to a lesser extent, other minotaur, wolven, and I've no reason to think it wouldn't affect jaguen or centaur. And conversely, minotaur can become - although it is uncommon - addicted to humans."

"But ..." Dacien paused. "Did ... during the caning. It ... it was almost like Five - Dapple, sorry, it's going to take me some time, Dapple, it's almost like he was enjoying it."

Teodor was silent, although Dacien thought he could feel amusement radiating off the minotaur, silently ... no, he could, he realized. It was the magic pouring off him. Dacien set that observation aside, though, and asked, "Is that funny?"

"Not funny, no, but ... yes, I'd hoped to make the experience as ... positive, I suppose, as I could," Teodor said. "If done carefully, the sensation of being hit can excite almost as much ... let me go back a bit. I think I need to explain some deeper matters, as we minotaur understand them. You must understand that, having physical bodies, we have physical sensation. Heat, cold, pain, pleasure, happiness, lust, joy, sorrow ... yes?"

"Physical?"

"I mean, that our bodies react to these emotions and feelings and sensations. We are not disembodied minds, golems in living husks, but holistic beings. Our minds and thoughts affect our bodies. Follow?"

Dacien thought about it, and then said, "I suppose so. Although I don't know what a golem is."

"Forget about golems, then, I'm sorry to have mentioned them. Our thoughts affect our bodies. The opposite is true, as well. If the bodies are given the result and symptom of an emotion, the mind takes that as a cue to experience that sensations or feeling or emotion. That's how minotaur fluids affect you - or anyone, for that matter - they put your body into a state of arousal, and the mind follows. How could it be otherwise?"

"Oh," said Dacien. "I'm not sure I understand ... but I guess. No, I do, it's just ... strange to think of it that way."

"You'll get used to it," Teodor said, some of the amusement leaking into his voice. "Back to Five. Dapple. Now you have me doing it, and I should know better. Dapple. When the body is hurt, it produces - within the bloodstream, from the brain and other glands - certain essences. These essences cause other parts of the body to respond, to heal, to cause the blood to thicken and congeal so that a wound does not bleed forever but closes, many responses. One of these responses is to release an essence - essences, I should say - that mediate the pain itself, to tell the body, yes, the pain has done its job and now we are moving on, the pain can lessen and fade. Or perhaps the right term is override the pain. Override seems closer ... I don't pretend to understand these matters deeply, they are a study for earth-mages such as Lord Green. These are fundamental matters of living, thinking beings, Dacien, and ... not even the mages who have devoted themselves to these questions understand them completely.

"So. The body has a mechanism to control, to override pain, and presumably this is meant to prevent incapacitation from sensation." Teodor paused again. "Now, although the body is a marvelous thing that defies our understanding in a thousand ways great and small, it is also a stupid thing in many ways, too. There is a place on your knee, where, if I tap it lightly, will cause your leg to kick. It just happens. It's the way the body works, there is no interaction with mind there. Are you with me?"

"I've actually seen that," Dacien said, intrigued.

"Good. It turns out that some of these processes, functions, mechanics, whatever they are, can be exploited and turned to more subtle use. The mechanism of pain suppression, in particular. By starting the caning lightly, I triggered this process. Light blows were easily bearable, and after a few minutes, the body was producing these essences that cause perception of pain to lessen and become more bearable."

Dacien blinked. "I get it. As the blows got harder and harder, they produced more of this stuff, so the blows stayed bearable."

"That's ... well. The blow itself produces full sensation, and it is the sensation that causes the brain to produce the pain lessening substances, to lessen and transmute the sensation itself. Yes. And this substance acts very much like poppy extract - are you familiar with poppy extract?"

"Yes," said Dacien. "It's addictive, and very expensive."

"Addictive, yes." agreed Teodor. "Like poppy extract, these essences can produce their own form of euphoria - not sexual, such as lensing or minotaur essences, but euphoric all the same. If the caning is done carefully to achieve this result. Caning can also be done to maximize the pain and unpleasantness of the experience. And it helps if the one being caned understands what is meant to happen. I assumed Dapple did, and ... his responses proved me right. Otherwise, I would have taken the time to explain to him."

"But he didn't need the explanation."

"I was sure he wouldn't," Teodor agreed. "Over time, the mind can become addicted to this as easily as the body does."

"The ... wait, wait. The body is addicted?"

"Either or both can be addicted, yes. Minotaur essences, for example, addict the body. But the body affects the mind, and the mind the body, so that a physical addiction turns into a mental one. And vice versa. It may be wrong to think of mind and body as separate things. I suspect that Dapple was addicted in many ways to his first Master, and someone so affected is forevermore vulnerable to having that need burn again."

"But why ..."

"Why place him under such a thing?"

"Yes!"

"Because he is a ninja," Teodor said, and the amusement had left his voice. "A weapon. A terrible weapon easily as destructive and every bit as fearsome as the mage-weapons we banned three thousand years ago. Dapple needs to be under the strictest control. And that control has eroded under the Lords of Tongs. Badly. He told me himself. He should have been paralyzed when we were attacked, lacking specific instructions to attack."

"It was good he wasn't," Dacien said, after he'd thought about that.

"In the short term, yes," agreed Teodor. "I don't disagree. I intend to give him orders to take steps to protect us from attack, but that's not the point. The point is that he's been conditioned to be blindly obedient to his Master, and that he could kill everyone in this house before Lord Green or I could stop him. Consider this Dacien. If you were to wake him, and order him to kill every person in this house, he would."

"Oh," said Dacien. "Wait. If I?"

"You and I are now his Masters, Dacien. More than that, really. Do humans have gods?"

Dacien swallowed. "Like ... like you have the creators?"

"No. The creators ... well, they may have had the power of gods, but the concept of gods is different. I think the creators may have intended to be, or to become, gods, but ... apparently that didn't happen."

"Apparently?"

"Apparently," sighed Teodor. "What if they did become gods? All-knowing, as close to all-powerful as I can conceive, maybe ... maybe they did achieve godhood, and became bored, or moved on to other things. We don't know. But ... inherent in the conception of godhood is that of worship."

"Like ... the Adulations?"

"I have no idea what an adulation might be," Teodor said. "Is it relevant?"

"It's a festival honoring one of the Emperors. It's ..."

"Maybe," said Teodor, in the tone that meant no. "Worship is a devotion beyond the mere obedience of a slave for his master. It is more ... well. The devotion of a dog to its trainer, for example."

"Oh." Dacien paused for a moment, and it became clear that the minotaur wasn't about to say more. "A dog. Huh."

"Something close to it. I don't pretend to understand everything ..." Teodor sighed. There's so much that we don't quite understand about the creators and gods, and ... if the creators themselves had gods. That's a strange thought. They seem so powerful to us, knowing so much, and yet they seemed to hold gods in a similar estimation."

Dacien shivered. "That's ... I don't know."

"I know the feeling," Teodor said. "All too well. The more one studies the creators the less one understands. It's why I gave it up. One of the reasons, anyway."

"But ... but Dapple," Dacien said.

"Yes, Dapple," sighed Teodor. "Do you have any idea how the idea of a mage-ninja is going to affect the Council?"

"Mage," said Dacien, suddenly remembering. "Oh. No."

"Oh yes," said Teodor. "Don't think that Lord Green didn't notice he's latent. And eventually ..."

"Latent becomes active," said Dacien, remembering.

"Inevitably."

"And he's a ninja."

"Yes."

"That's ..." Dacien was silent. "At least the situation is unlikely to get worse?" he asked, hopefully.

That actually drew a soft round of laughter from Teodor. "Unlikely to get worse!" the minotaur repeated, with a fast round of noises that were much too low to be giggling.

"I like the way you laugh," Dacien said. "I don't think you laugh enough, Master."

"I liked the way you phrased that," Teodor said, recovering a bit. "I must see if I can use the line when I'm called up before the council."

"You're being called up? What ..."

"I will be, now," Teodor said. "They could ignore you - you're just a human, and ... mages have taken mage-humans for thousands of years. Longer. But a mage-ninja? Oh, no, they're going to have to have an inquiry. And that inquiry, I assure you, will invariably spread to other matters in which they might question my judgement."

"That's not fair!"

"Not fair?" said Teodor. "Of course it's fair. I am Teodor Lycaili, Lord Fog. My rank is such that I am superior, or equal, to every other minotaur with the sole exception of the Lord Lycaili himself. As a mage, I wield power that so far outstrips most other minotaur that I might as well be a creator or a god. Are you suggesting that there should not be some number of persons to whom I need to defend my actions and judgment? I may not enjoy the experience, but I assure you, I approve entirely. And were I not in the situation itself, if I were, say, Lord Lash or Lord Winter, I'd be quite certain that an inquiry was called for. In fact ..." Teodor's voice faded. "That actually might be ..."

"Teodor?"

"I think I should schedule the inquiry myself," Teodor said. "Yes. Schedule a ... an examination of the results." The minotaur exhaled, a long breath.

"So ... Teodor?"

"Yes?"

"Why ... why did you make me his Master?"

"I always intended to," said Teodor, "from the moment I acquired him."

"Oh," said Dacien. And then, "Teodor, that ... that doesn't actually explain anything."

"I suppose not," said Teodor. "I am not yet inclined to explain. All will become clear, Dacien, I promise, but ... not yet."

"Can. No. Could I at least know why the answer is not yet."

Teodor was quiet for a moment, thinking. "A little. It would ... if you knew what I had planned, if ... well. Do you remember that human maxim you quoted for me?"

Dacien paused. "No," he said.

"That it is easier to ask forgiveness than to beg permission?"

"Oh, that, yes. Oh." said Dacien. "So if anyone found out ..."

"I've found the best way to keep secrets, Dacien, is to keep them."

"That makes sense," sighed Dacien. "It's just ... I don't know."

"I beg you to believe me when I say I understand, and I so wish I dared tell you ..." Teodor sighed again. "Please, Dacien."

"I feel like I don't know what's going to happen. Lord Green tells me - very believably - that all I'll ever be is a threat and a danger. That at best, I'll have a year or two before I die."

"No!" said Teodor strongly. "He's wrong."

"He's pretty convincing."

"Dacien," said Teodor, again. "Please. Trust me. He does not see what I see."

"Neither do I," said Dacien. "I do trust you, Teodor - Master. Blindly."

"Dacien, love, listen to me. They are ... blind. They do not see clearly," Teodor whispered. "And that is our advantage. They are not stupid, or slow - please, Dacien. Any hint, anything, even this conversation which seems so innocent to you, I know, might be sufficient for them to see ... what I see. And they will stop me. You. And that would be ... no. Love, love, Dacien, please trust me."

"I do," said Dacien. "I don't have much choice."

"Yes, you do," said Teodor. "You do have a choice. And I ask you to trust me."

"I suppose," Dacien said. "And I do trust you. I'll ... I'll wait. I'm sorry. It's just that I don't know what's going to happen ..."

"And Lord Green's scenario is real and immediate?"

"Yeah."

"It is I who am sorry," Teodor said. "You deserve to know. But you do not need to know, and at this point, ... need drives me."

"All right," sighed Dacien. "Goodnight, Master Teodor."

"Good night, Dacien-human."

The next morning Dacien woke alone in the bed. Five - no, Dapple, he had to start thinking of the minotaur slave - his minotaur slave - as Dapple - was kneeling happily beside the bed. "Good morning, Dapple."

"Thank you, Master."

"Where is ..." Dacien paused. "Our Master," he said.

"Master Great Lord Fog woke earlier, bathed, and went to break fast with Great Lord Green," Dapple said. "He commanded me to stay here and wait on you, Master."

"I'm ... I'm going to ... it's going to take me some time to get used to that."

"Yes, Master."

"Do slaves often have multiple masters?"

"It is unusual, Master, but it has been done before." Dapple said.

"Do ... are you all right?"

"I think so, Master, but ... what do you mean?"

Dacien struggled up in the huge, soft bed, and looked at Dapple. The minotaur must have bathed with or after Teodor, because he was clean. And that made Dacien feel even filthier, still covered in sweat, blood, and piss from the night before. And the cuts ... he could barely see them, as lines of shadow against the white and black of Dapple's pelt. "I meant the welts," he said, "but ... did our Master heal you?" Surely not, or he wouldn't even be able to see them. Would he?

"No, Master," Dapple said. "Minotaurs heal quickly, compared to humans. These will be gone by tomorrow."

"I see," said Dacien, quietly. He'd have borne those cuts for a week, and he'd have been lucky to avoid scars. "I suppose this changes our relationship."

"Yes, Master."

"I think I liked being Dacien better."

"Yes, Master."

"So, what ... what do we do know?"

"Perhaps Master would like a bath and then breakfast?"

Dacien shook his head, and got up, and started down into the bathroom before he noticed the faint hint of disappointment on Dapple's face. With a sigh, Dacien beckoned the minotaur over.

The aftermath of the attack was less chaotic than Dacien had expected. The four minotaur ninja had a second mission, they'd discovered, the death of the wolven Talosh and four slaves who had been with him. Lord Green's anger - already tremendous from the death of Lukas - had nowhere to go when he discovered that murder , an hour after the attack had failed, and Dacien was grateful he'd been far away from the blood-soaked dining room when that news had arrived.

The next few days passed slowly, as he fell into routines with the now-quiet and obedient Dapple. For some reason, Lord Fog had ordered Dapple to show Dacien the rudiments of minotaur fighting-style, and even found a minotaur sword sized to a human. Dapple wasn't the best instructor, but Teodor said that Dapple's form was excellent. Dacien suspected it was just something to keep him and Dapple out of the way while Teodor worked with Lord Green. Fortunately, there weren't any more of those formal dinners.

He'd had to attend the funeral pyre, with Lord Fog and Dapple. The bodies of Lukas and Talosh - and the four unfortunate humans - had been arranged carefully on a huge bed of wood. The minotaurs had gathered in the early afternoon, and brought some humans, male and female, to the ceremony as well. A brown minotaur clad in deep blue talked about Lukas's clan achievements, his standing as a tempus master, and Talosh's long service to Lord Green, and mentioned the faithfulness and devotion of the humans. Hammer had been learning woodturning, and Lord Green ordered his last, uncompleted bowl to stand in the entrance foyer of House Green. Chess had worked in the field kitchens, and in her honor, the feast Lord Green had declared for his humans would feature her favorite foods. Run was the youngest, still serving as page and messenger, and Lord Green's new Master of Slave - a black minotaur named Vincenth - would take them as special charges in Run's memory. Salt had borne eight children, and these, too, would be taken by Vincenth as special charges in her name.

Lord Green spoke, at length. The dignity that seemed to radiate naturally from minotaurs seemed to help keep his anger harnessed by his sorrow. His words left no doubt, however, that whoever had done this had acquired an implacable foe. By the time they'd finished, the sun was setting. The brown minotaur in charge of the pyre respectfully asked Xavien Lord Green to light it, and handed him a lit torch.

"Thank you, Mimos. But I would pass this honor to Teodor Lord Fog, without whom Warlord Havel - and all of us - would have perished." The huge black minotaur passed the lit torch to the smaller gray one.

"Thank you, Xavien Lord Green," Teodor had responded. "But I would pass this honor, if Mimos deems it proper, to the one who made best use of Lukas's sacrifice - Dapple."

The brown minotaur nodded solemnly. "It is right and proper, Teodor Lord Fog. Let honor fall where it is due."

"All honor, then, to Dapple," Teodor said gravely, and handed the torch to the white and black minotaur.

Dapple rose from his kneeling position to take the flame, and said nothing, merely advancing to the pyre, and touching the burning brand to the four sides. The pyre had been constructed well, and by the time Dapple lit the fourth side, it was already burning hot and bright, the flames obscuring the bodies within. Teodor had explained that after the fire was lit, one remembered the dead, and waited to honor them, for as long as one could bear.

Lord Green left almost immediately. The gray minotaur said, sympathetically, "I don't think I could bear it either, if I were he,"to Dacien as they watched the black minotaur pace slowly back up the hill. Teodor himself, and therefore Dacien and Dapple, waited for what seemed like hours, as the pyre collapsed in on itself, burning into hot embers. The flames that had leaped to the sky were just crawling over the coals, and Dacien kept imagining he saw bones, although Teodor had told him the bodies were prepared so that they would burn away completely. Once the fire had completely burned out, the ashes would be spread on the gardens. There would be other ceremonies, more private ones, among Lord Green's guard, and one among the tempus masters, to mark Lukas's passing and memorialize him.

Dacien wasn't sure what happened, what milestone had passed, or if indeed it was a particular event, but Teodor simply turned his back on the glowing coals, and followed, if not in the exact steps of Lord Green and the others who had left, then along the same path, back to the house. The only minotaur left was Mimos, and Teodor had already explained that Mimos would be the one to gather and then distribute the ashes.

"I was surprised that Lord Green let Dapple light the pyre," Dacien said, quietly, as they walked up the hill.

"Were you? It was his request," Teodor said. "He couldn't ask Dapple directly, so ... he had to ask me, so I could ask him."

"Oh."

"It is a deep honor," Teodor said. "Part of Lord Green's frustration, I think, is that Dapple is beyond most reward. He was quite frantic when he realized he owed such thanks to a slave."

"What rewards could he give?"

"None, beyond what he has."

"I mean, if ... if Dapple were free. Not a slave."

"Then he could not have saved us," Teodor said. "But I gather your meaning. There are official commendations, from Lord Green, from the Council. Offical Thanks, and Recommendations of Valor, and other similar honors. Posts, such as Master of Arms, Master of Guard, that betoken the faith of the employer in the employed. There are honorary posts, too, that draw a stipend, or not, depending. Warder of the Front Door, for example, or an Officer of House Green. There are many such things. None of them suitable for Dapple."

"Oh," said Dacien. "That's a shame."

"Perhaps," said Teodor. "Dapple, if you could have one thing, what would it be?"

"You and Dacien as my Masters, Master." the black and white minotaur responded promptly.

"But you have that," Dacien said.

"Yes, Master. I do."

Dacien sighed, and Teodor nodded. "Truly, Dacien, what Dapple truly craves is to be mastered. That desire was fostered and built and reinforced, even if there was time when Dapple was not what he is now. And so rewarding him is as simple as letting him serve."

"So not letting him serve would be punishment?"

"Perhaps. It would be, at the very least, a rebuke. And he does not deserve any rebuke."

"No," said Dacien. "He doesn't." Dacien thought about this as they made their way back up the hill, into their house, and towards the huge pond of their suite.

The night got stranger when they arrived back at their suite. The huge figure of Lord Green sat in one of the large stuffed chairs. A glass half-filled with a pale yellow liquid - and Dacien guessed it was something stronger than mere wine - sat next to an almost-empty decanter of the same drink. "Teodor," and the voice was rough. "I was beginning to think you'd stayed to help scatter ashes."

"No," the gray minotaur said. "Have you been waiting for me?"

"Who else," sighed the huge minotaur, slurring the last word just slightly.

"Xavien! Are you drunk?"

"Not quite yet," said the black minotaur, with a little more conviction. "Not enough, anyway. Oh, don't be that way. The house and grounds are still sealed, and ... Lukas joined my guard almost five centuries ago. A little less, Teodor. He was a friend. One of the few - ha! - one of the only ones I could talk to. You don't know yet, do you? How long have you been a full mage? A century?"

"And a half," said Teodor. "And those last years with Lord Ember. But I've always preferred a more solitary ..."

"Hah," said Xavien, finishing the glass, and pouring himself another one. "I hate it. They all want ... Lord Green."

"I know. I've seen the same thing as Lord Fog. It's most wearying."

"That's one way to put it. I envy you your slave, you know. Both of them. Dapple and the feral," Xavien whispered. "They want you. Teodor. That you're Lord Fog means nothing to them."

"It means something, I think," Teodor said, sitting down. "Is there another glass?"

"Yes, but this is empty," Xavien said, shaking the decanter which still had a little liquid in it. "So it won't do much good."

Ignoring that, Teodor turned to the minotaur trailing quietly in his wake. "Dapple, find us another bottle of this. Or something else."

"Yes, Master." The black and white minotaur's voice was low, but he sped off with more enthusiasm than Dacien could manage.

Xavien ignored it, focusing on Teodor. "I ... Lukas recited a list to me of mages who had been assassinated in their own homes, just ... what? Five days ago. Six, six days." Xavien's fingers wrapped almost convulsively around the glass he held. "I laughed at him. I mocked him, Teodor, for trying to keep me safe."

"It was friendly banter, was it not?"

"I told him," Xavien continued, as if he hadn't heard the gray minotaur, "I told him ... I told him ... I told him those days were over." He lifted the glass, and emptied it again. "Over!" He poured the remnants from the decanter into the glass, and downed liquid. "But they weren't," he said, in a low voice. The words and tone might have been neutral, but Dacien could feel the angry roil of frustrated hatred coiled within it, and Dacien took a slow, small step away from the minotaur. The intense bitterness was like a dull ache across his body; a painful sharpness carried along the thick outpouring of magic from the black minotaur.

"Is there no one ..."

"Not here," Xavien said, shaking his head. Even that motion, at a distance, was painful to Dacin, and he took another small, quiet stop backwards. Fortunately, neither of the minotaurs were focused on him. "I've tried, Teodor, really, but ... I'm Lord Green." The last few words were spat out with a fury that Dacien felt as a subtle heat across his body.

"Tonight, to me, you are Xavien, my friend," Teodor said. "I have my own ghosts. Perhaps we can settle them together ... ah, thank you, Dapple," as the minotaur returned holding not one, or even merely two, but three decanters, setting them down on the small wood stand between the two chairs. "Well thought of. Well done. Please take my approval and Dacien, and await me in my bedroom. Settle yourself and Dacien. I may ... be late. Or not there."

"Yes, Master," said Dapple, and Dacien followed him over the bridges and behind the planted screens. The low, soft voices of minotaur conversation continued, carrying across the calm waters of the pond, until Dacien fell asleep, with Dapple curled next to him. At some point, Dacien woke briefly as Teodor led a shaking Xavien, tears dripping down his face, into the room, and settled him into the bed. They didn't say anything, and Dacien drifted back into sleep soon after, as the peculiar overtones from the black minotaur's presence had subsided.

After that, Teodor was busy, consulting with Xavien, as well as the rest of the council, and putting up some kind of nondiscernment protection. Leaving six days later was almost an anticlimax, after that. Dacien didn't see Erik, or even Mikal again, although Benelaus stopped in to thank - and profoundly embarrass, Dacien thought - Dapple. He didn't even see Lord Green again until their departure, when he stopped by to thank Lord Fog, express his appreciation to Dapple yet again, and present Lord Fog with a medium size wood chest, polished and stained dark red, but plain other than that, along with a silver key. It seemed tedious to Dacien, but that might partly have been because he was hungry. Teodor had told him to eat nothing the night before, and drink only water, although - as usual - the minotaur hadn't explained why. Still, Teodor looked delighted when he, Dacien, and Dapple finally got into the gray upholstered carriage with the driver.

"Finally," said Teodor, stretching out across the carriage seat. Dacien sat across from him, and Dapple had knelt on the floor - looking very comfortable.

"Master?" asked Dacien.

"We're going back to Mistingrise," Teodor said. "With a short stop at House Gray. Very short. There are three books there that I want."

"Oh," said Dacien. "What about?"

"An old history of Clan Xarbydis and Scylla, a book on tempus, and a feral training manual," Teodor said. "There was something about coercive forced enslavement and its long-term effects. The author had tried some recovery techniques, but ..."

"You don't remember?"

"I never read it," admitted Teodor almost sheepishly. "I got the book while I was in Ourobouros, and I skimmed it, and meant ... well, I didn't get around to reading it, and then it was in House Gray after ... well."

"After what?"

"I had an unfortunate public fight with ... a warlord, who ... who lives at House Gray. So I have not been back there."

"Even for you, Master, that's uninformative," Dacien said.

Teodor had the grace to look aside, and his eyes found the patch of new wood in the carriage, still the soft polished yellows of lacquered wood. Teodor sat quietly for a bit, as the carriage swayed down the road and then the gray minotaur spoke. "You're right. This is no secret I need to hold close, other than being ... well. Judge for yourself. Soon after I joined the Council - after I became Lord Fog - I had a son. Unsurprisingly, he did not evince magery, but he saw this as a fault. It drove him to practice martial arts with an unusual fervor. He reached warlord status very quickly, and then turned to studying tempus. Despite his early promise, he has not achieved Mastery, but ... he was considered very promising indeed when he was younger - sixty years ago. Actually, he had just reached his first half-century. Quite a young age to be a warlord, really.

"As you've gathered, there are some policy differences at the highest levels of Lycaili over the question of your human empire. The generals - and these are the military leaders of our Clan, appointed by position or the Patriarch, are mildly in favor of a martial solution. Lord Green, and to a lesser extent, Lord Winter, agree with that position. Humans need firm guidance, they say.

"No, please, Dacien. I do not wish to discuss the position, I just want to sketch the political situation. When I said the generals were mildly in favor, that means that the majority of them favor direct, interventionist action. The mage's council, on the other hand, is mildly opposed - the majority of us see it as risky. I, and to a lesser extent Lord Doze, feel that there's no reasons humans cannot look after themselves, and so we oppose such adventurism. Lord Chimes and Lord Lash oppose it as well, but on the grounds that extended operations - and any adventures in human lands would be extended - would leave us vulnerable to attack from other Clans. Lord Doze, too, feels this argument keenly; I press it as well, although it is not my primary motivation."

"Chelm - my son - falls firmly on the other side of this debate. He feels strongly about it, with, perhaps, that same vigor of youth that Lord Green occasionally accuses me of. In any case, we were arguing, and I fear that I as much as he had permitted our feelings on the matter to permit our temper to rise, and ... well. He said some extremely rude things to me, and I admit, I to him. Until he apologizes, though, there is nothing I can do," Teodor concluded with a sigh.

"But didn't you say you were rude to him?"

"I was," Teodor said. "I am ashamed. Of all the persons in the world with whom to lose my composure, my own son is the last one I would wish to do so. But what can I do?"

"You could apologize," Dacien said, and he suddenly became aware that both Teodor and Dapple were staring at him with a strange expression. "No, no, no, let me guess," Dacien added with a hint of exasperation after the moment of silence had stretched out uncomfortably. "Chelm, being of lower rank, and your son in addition, should apologize to you. And then you can apologize to him." More silence followed this statement. "Am I right?"

There was more silence, and finally Teodor said, in a small voice, "Yes."

Dacien took a deep breath. "And you never considered apologizing first." Dacien's voice made the words something between a statement, question, and commentary.

The gray minotaur just shook his head, no. A minotaur-grin twisted his muzzle, and then he started chuckling. A moment later, he was laughing, a deep booming laugh that made Dacien smile. Dapple looked uncertain, though, and Teodor eventually drew himself together. "Well, that's easily fixed," Teodor said. "A moment ago, I suppose I was hoping he'd be out when we reached House Gray. Now, I find myself hoping he'll be in."

"Yes, Master," said Dacien, nodding.

"Now ..." said Teodor thoughtfully, looking out the window as House Green receded along the road. "Dapple, I do think you'd be more comfortable in the seat."

"I'm fine, Master," Dapple said.

"I'm not," said Teodor, with an air of patience. "Consider. This is not a large carriage, and there is limited space to put one's feet. And you are taking up most of it, whereas, if you were in one of the places intended by the carriage designers for passengers, which you are, you would both consume less floor space and be more comfortable. As would I. And Dacien, I might add. I'm sorry it offends your sense of propriety for a slave to ride in the carriage, on the seat, but the one really does imply the other. And before you ask if you can ride outside on the backboard or on the roof or jog alongside - no, you may not. I want you inside, because you are, after all, our final defense against others with your training. And finally, my dear Dapple, I might add that although your comfort might be a trifling matter for you, it looms somewhat larger to me. I am, after all, even as you are subject to my direction, responsible for your food, shelter, warmth - in short, comforts and necessities."

The black and white minotaur carefully got up, and sat next to Dacien, facing Teodor.

"Thank you," said Teodor, stretching his legs a bit. "Now ..." and the gray minotaur peered out the window. "House Green ... I wonder ... no, no, no." Teodor looked over at Dacien, and smiled. "Come sit by me, Dacien."

The cool gray of Teodor's magic carried a distinct sense of anticipation along with, as well as Teodor's general good mood, and Dacien felt himself wrapped in fingers of gray, slipping into and through him.

"Master? What ... what was that?"

"You felt that?" said Teodor, sounding surprised.

"Yes," said Dacien, as he carefully repositioned himself, easing himself onto the padded leather bench by Teodor. "I did. I ... I think I've been getting more sensitive. I meant to say something, but ... we ... well ..."

"No time," sighed Teodor, nodding. "I understand, truly I do. You're right, of course, I spent most of my time with Lord Green, between the additional safeguards around his house and the council business regarding this attack. It's ... baffling, really. We're at peace; certainly that peace is uneasy, but the only active warfare at the moment is that Imperial army wandering about," the gray minotaur sighed. "I hardly think they could be responsible for an assassination attempt of such a ... remarkable character."

"Maybe it's someone else taking advantage of that?"

Teodor nodded glumly. "We've had a great deal of discussion about it, Dacien, and we've picked over the bones of the possibilities quite carefully. We've come to the conclusion that we lack some key piece of information that would enable us to make sense of the situation. The Empire, we think, lacks the detailed knowledge of minotaur clans that would accompany having contacts with ninja. So, we conclude it is not the Empire. Other clans ... we just don't see what is gained by the death of myself or Lord Green - or poor Talosh, for that matter - in a political sense. Nor even the revelation of the existence of ninja, when we thought them a thing of the past. What is gained? We have no idea, nothing."

"Oh," said Dacien. "But wasn't Talosh wolven?"

"Yes," sighed Teodor. "But he'd left his clan. Wolven are powerful mentalists, but Talosh was, well, not. He was a short-range empath, but he lacked the telepathic abilities ..." Teodor's voice trailed off. "No. You should know. Wolven are telepaths only when they've been fed correctly."

"Fed ... you mean ... is that what they were doing at Mog Ford?"

Teodor nodded. "Without human flesh - human and no other, not minotaur, not centaur, not jaguen, not wolven, but human and only human - wolven lose much of their mental abilities. Specifically. They lose range, and the ability to communicate thoughts."

"But ..."

"It does not make sense, no," said Teodor. "Presumably the creators had some reason for it. I can only assume they did."

"That's horrible!" said Dacien.

"I agree," said Teodor. "My understanding is that the wolven agree. Or at least, they say they do. The practice is nearly universal, so it may be that they agree ... less strongly, or merely say they agree."

"They'd need ... thousands."

"No, they don't need much," Teodor said. "I'm actually rather sorry I brought the whole thing up, Dacien."

"Why?"

"Because ... I would imagine you're hungry. I did ask you to fast, after all."

"Yes," said Dacien. "I did."

"I know," said Teodor. "I checked. It's not that I do not trust you, but ..." he paused, and looked at Dapple thoughtfully. "You both understand that anything we discuss here is not to be discussed elsewhere, yes?"

"Yes, Master," the white and black minotaur acknowledged.

"Yes," said Dacien, after a moment.

"Good," said the gray minotaur briskly. "I'd hardly care to explain my discussing council business with you to the council. I think you need to know, obviously, or I wouldn't mention it, but even so."

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

Teodor slid an arm around the human, and pulled Dacien onto his lap. "We haven't had as much time as I would like," the minotaur apologized obliquely, and the human put an arm around the minotaur's shoulder. Dacien pulled himself closer to the minotaur, breathing in the the warm pine-musk that seemed stronger now than a moment earlier. "I'm really liking that smell," Dacien said, as he inhaled.

"What smell?" said Teodor, sounding puzzled.

Dacien turned his head, and looked up at the minotaur. "The ..." and stopped. He chuckled, a lighter, human noise in the carriage, and then looked across to Dapple. The white and black minotaur was expressionless, and Dacien turned back to Teodor, still patiently waiting.

"Master," said Dacien. "Minotaurs ... at least, you and Dapple both, have a wonderful scent of pine needles and earth and salt. It's ..."

"Do you smell anything, Dapple?"

"No, Master."

Teodor looked back down at Dacien. "Interesting. I'm glad you like it, at least."

"Yes," said Dacien, wishing he hadn't brought it up. He put his head against the soft gray of Teodor's shirt, and yawned. Between the rhythmic motion of the carriage, being held against Teodor, and being a little light-headed from his fast, Dacien wasn't sure how long he was there, on Teodor's lap. Five minutes? Twenty?

And suddenly Teodor was unwrapping his shirt, brushing it aside, so that Dacien's face was next to the smooth gray pelt. Dacien rubbed up against the minotaur, feeling the firm muscle underneath. "Yes," whispered Teodor, sounding somewhat ...

Dacien looked up at the minotaur, who had an intense look of concentration. Whatever it was that was taking his attention, though, wasn't magic - Dacien felt nothing, and Teodor's hands closed around the human, carefully supporting him, bringing him closer, up a little, to Teodor's chest. The minotaur's nipples - more human than bovine, thankfully - stood out in the cool air, the gray fur parted around the dark brown nubbin of flesh.

"Go on," Teodor said, encouragingly, brushing Dacien's lips with the tip. "I'm ready."

Dacien licked the tip with his tongue, and instead of the pine-salt he'd expected - or rather, in addition to the pine-salt taste - there was a cool sweetness. Teodor drew in his breath sharply. "Tease me later, Dacien, not ... not now!"

That was clear enough; Dacien took the nipple in his mouth, laving it, let the pine fill his mouth and nose and then the sweetness was there again, even as Teodor moaned with something halfway between sheer pleasure and relief, only it wasn't cool, but warm, rich, like cream, filling his mouth -

Dacien tried to jerk away, even to look up at the minotaur holding him, but he was held fast, the minotaur cradling him, pressing the human to his breast as more milk trickled into his mouth. He tried to say something, but it came out only as a muffled sound.

Teodor seemed to know what he'd meant anyway. "Yes. Drink, Dacien. Am I not responsible for keeping you warm, keeping you fed? I know you're hungry, my apprentice, my human. I know what you need. And ..."

He was hungry, Dacien realized, and the taste of milk, fresh, hot minotaur milk, like sweetened cream, was making him even hungrier. He began to pull on the nub of flesh with his lips, suck at the nipple, and was rewarded twice. Once, when the trickle turned to a hot stream, and again with Teodor's low of pleasure.

"That's ... oh, my Dacien, that's so good," he whispered. "I'd forgotten ..." and another sharp intake of breath marked Dacien's renewed suckling. "Yes ..." the gray minotaur whispered, and Dacien wasn't sure if Teodor was talking to the human curled on his lap, or to himself. Dacien wasn't even sure how long he nursed - long enough for the now-steady flow to thin to a few reluctant drops, and for Teodor to move him from the left to the right. In the back of Dacien's mind he wondered just how addictive minotaur milk was, and if he should care. At the moment, he didn't. It was just a thought as he drank, and the mild hunger from his fast receded. Eventually, it was gone, replaced with a warm fullness that brought languor, and then sleep, still cradled by the gray minotaur.

Dacien woke when they stopped for the night, at an inn somewhat larger than the one in Xarsen. Grander, he might have said, but after seeing Lord Green's estate, he'd settle for larger. Human servants - slaves - ran forward to take the horses, the luggage, to assist the gray minotaur down, although Teodor waved them off. Once inside, the gray minotaur commanded a suite, and dinner, and a hot bath, and Dacien looked forward to all of those things. Teodor relaxed in the hot water while Dapple ate. Dacien had again been told not to, so he just watched the white and black minotaur eat hot stew, and bring Teodor a large bowl of stew. Teodor just gulped it down, and requested another, as he rose from the cooling water, and dispersed the water with a flick of cool gray magic.

Teodor ate another bowl without stopping as he dressed himself in a light gray robe, and then lingered over a third, adding a tall glass goblet of wine. "The cook is overfond of garlic," Teodor said, finally, breaking the silence.

Dapple remained silent, Dacien wasn't sure what to say, since Teodor had asked him not to eat anything but water. "Dapple?"

"Master?"

"Do you have an opinion?"

The white and black minotaur considered that for a moment, and then said, "No, Master."

"I see," said Teodor. "And yet you seem ... somewhat disturbed."

"I beg you to punish me for my errors, Master."

Teodor looked, momentarily, irritated, and then his composure returned to its accustomed neutrality. "This grows tiresome, Dapple. Really. What errors?"

Dapple bowed his head. "First, that I would presume to judge my Master. Next, that I have allowed my Master to see the results of the error. Finally, that I did not confess the error when I committed it."

Teodor just shook his head. "I'm actually quite tired tonight, Dapple, so ... why don't you meditate on your various sins tonight, and perhaps you can suggest some suitable punishment - if such trivial things merit punishment. Perhaps, as the topic of meditation, you can consider whether or not you truly trust me as your Master."

"I do! Master! I do!"

"Then ... instead of judging me, trust that I have reasons for what I do," Teodor said, almost compassionately. "I can no more explain everything to you - however much you deserve it, and before you tell me that you do not, I will say I think you do and I do not wish to hear myself contradicted - than I can explain all to Dacien here. I understand. And yet, Dapple, all will be clear."

"Yes, Master," said the white and black minotaur, dropping to his knees, and touching his head to the floor. "Forgive me."

"It's difficult to forgive things I do not hold against you," Teodor said, "but I will try."

"Thank you, Master."

"Perhaps, Dapple, it is you who must forgive yourself," the gray minotaur continued. "And you must come to trust yourself again, before you can truly trust me. And you must trust me, if you would serve me as I need you to."

"Your word is my command, Great Master!"

"Yes," said Teodor, gravely. "But I need more than that."

The kneeling minotaur said nothing, just stayed there, his half-horns touching the floor.

"Dapple, I do love you," Teodor said, after a long silence. "And I understand. More than you might guess. You have not failed me, nor yourself. Nor will you."

The whisper from the floor was almost inaudible. "Thank you, Master."

Teodor turned to look at Dacien, and the human could see a trace of worry in the huge brown orbs. "Dacien?"

"Master?"

"Our slave will be ... busy, tonight," Teodor said. "That is no reason you might not join me, though, and ... I trust you're hungry again?"

He was, but ... "I guess," Dacien temporized, shedding his own gray clothes to climb into the bed. At least this one wasn't as monstrously huge as the one in Lord Green's guest suite. "But ... it seems ..."

"Strange?" murmured Teodor. "It is, no doubt. You are uncomfortable with this?"

"Yes," Dacien said.

"But you were not uncomfortable this morning, were you?"

"I ... no, I suppose not."

"Then ... it's not the thing itself you are uncomfortable with, but something in your mind."

Dacien considered that for a moment, and as he was about to say yes, there was a whimper from Dapple.

"Shhh," Teodor said, to Dacien. "Dapple is ... working through his own questions. Let us not distract him," and he pulled Dacien to him, opening his robe. "And perhaps the quiet will help you wrestle with your own questions," he continued. "Please me, Dacien. Drink."

They rose before dawn to a hurried, if huge, breakfast. Eggs, griddle-cakes with honey and butter, poached apples, and large quantities of hot tea vanished into Teodor and Dapple while Dacien waited. Later, Teodor had said, and Dacien thought he knew exactly what would happen later, in the carriage, traveling towards Labyrinth.

Nor was he mistaken. As Teodor was adjusting his shirt, Dacien asked, "Master? Is this ... permanent?"

Teodor tilted his head. "It is an experiment," he said, finally. "But no, I do not intend this to be permanent. I'm not sure how long. We'll see, I suppose." Teodor smiled at him. "Now come. Drink."

Sometime after he'd finished, he realized from the low voices that Dapple and Teodor were talking, but he couldn't quite stay awake for the conversation.

Their arrival at House Gray woke him up again in the late afternoon, and he dragged himself out of a tired stupor. If nothing else, Dacien thought, minotaur milk made travel easier. He yawned, and followed Lord Fog into the house where surprised humans were suddenly bowing and asking questions. "No, no, just for a day, at the very most. Open my rooms, please. Is the warlord here?"

No, the warlord was not, he was out, and no, they didn't know when he'd be back, although he was expected for dinner.

"Excellent. Add another three for dinner. I'll be in the library. Dacien, Dapple, come. This way." The gray minotaur led the three through a wide hallway and into a bright, sunlit room. One wall was set with huge panes of glass, and the far side was mirrored in three huge panels, and Teodor stopped, stunned. The gray minotaur looked down at the clean polished gray wood flooring, covered with a woven mat, and then up to the walls, festooned with minotaur-sized weaponry. "My scriptorium ..." he whispered, looking around. "Well." The gray minotaur closed the door, turned around, and went back, through another door, and took three steps in before stopping.

Two heavy wood and leather benches, in Teodor's signature gray, were arrayed on the gray wood floor. Two men were strapped to them, wearing nothing but the restraints. The first was hairless, and covered with bright black stripes - only they weren't straight, or even, but chaotic and varied. The rest of him was pale white, and the contrast was almost dazzling. The stripes were roughly horizontal on the man, branching out and reconnecting in a disordered way that was confusing. Dacien had heard of humans who painted themselves with strange patterns, but this ... this wasn't just paint. The skin itself had been colored with ... was it black? The striped looked black at first, but looking more closely, they revealed color shimmering directly under the surface, like a dark shadowy rainbow.

The second had short-cropped hair, but his skin, too, was pale, if not as pale as the first. They both looked up at the intruders, looking almost as surprised as Teodor looked.

"My library!" said Teodor, sounding upset. "Where ... where are my books!"