FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Cold Blood

Chapter 20

Pomp and Circumstance

by Onyx Tao

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.

---

"Where are my books_?" the gray minotaur said in Greek, and took three more steps into the room. Tag stood frozen, just a minute too long, as the new minotaur turned - angrily? - to him. "_You. What is your designation?"

With a shock, Markus realized that this minotaur - this gray minotaur - almost faded into the room. The gray of his pelt matched the gray of his clothes, the gray shine of his horns, the gray of the buttons along his gray coat, and all of it matched - perfectly matched - the omnipresent gray of the house.

Tag's mouth opened, and a mewl came out of him as he collapsed, not dropped, but collapsed, onto the floor. The mute human jerked himself into a prostrate position, arms extended, legs together, head down, and made another heart-rending moan. The gray minotaur just looked blank for a moment, and shook his head angrily. "Oh. Get up."

Tag let out another moan, and rose to his knees, head bowed.

"You. On the floor," the gray minotaur said briskly. "If you expect to be punished for failing to comply with my wishes when what I asked was impossible - well, it's not going to happen. I should have remembered that Chelm doesn't like humans to talk. Although it does pose a minor problem ... I shall refer to you as One until I know your proper designation."

Tag nodded.

"Now stand up, please. Do you know what happened to any of the books that used to be in this room?"

Tag shook his head as he was standing. Markus was still trying to wrap his mind around a minotaur's saying please to a human when he realized that two others had come into the room, another human, who looked vaguely familiar although in minotaur-style green clothes Markus couldn't quite place him, and another minotaur. Markus thought it was Kanail for a moment, but the black spots weren't right for that, and ... and this minotaur had had his horns sawed off? No, not Kanail.

"Where is Chelm?" the gray minotaur said, more to himself, than anyone else, but Zebra took it as a cue.

"On duty, Sir," Zebra said, quickly, and very quietly.

"Oh, you can speak," the gray minotaur said. "Excellent. I'd assumed ... never mind. Can you speak, too?" he said, facing Markus.

Markus looked up at the gray minotaur, but Zebra came to his rescue. "He only speaks Latin, Sir."

"I see," said the minotaur. "You speak Latin?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I don't suppose you - either of you - know where the books in this room went?" the gray minotaur asked, switching to Latin.

Zebra shook his head.

"Please answer me vocally. Sir will do as a mode of address, if that was worrying you."

"Yes, Sir," Zebra whispered.

The gray minotaur turned to Markus. "And you - your designation?"

"Master calls me Leopard," Markus replied, not quite ready to claim the name himself. "Sir."

"And these two?"

"Zebra and Tag. Sir."

The gray minotaur's muzzle twisted in that strange expression of bovine amusement. "I think I might guess which is which. You're ... a new addition?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Master?" the human spoke up - also in Latin.

"Yes?"

"This one - Leopard - was infantry at Mog Ford."

"Did you know him?"

"No ..." the human's voice was hesitant, and Markus wondered why. He didn't look familiar. Maybe he'd have a chance to talk to him, if he could arrange it before Chelm got back.

"I see," the minotaur said, cutting off the human. "So it doesn't seem like that much of a coincidence. Or is it?"

"I ... I suppose not, Master."

"I am relieved," the gray minotaur rumbled, very softly. "Still, it was right of you to bring it to my attention. And attention, yes," the minotaur went on. "Are you - either of you, Leopard or Zebra, being punished?"

Markus said, "No, Sir" just as Zebra whispered it.

"Fine. Tag, please release them from their fetters."

"Tag doesn't speak Latin, Sir," Zebra said. "But, Sir, that will not please our Master."

"No? Thank you for telling me, Zebra. I am afraid your Master will have to be ... slightly displeased. Having you two restrained ..." and the minotaur paused, and repeated his order to Tag in Greek, "displeases me a great deal." The gray minotaur turned to the white and black-blotched minotaur. "Dapple ... oh. I never asked if you spoke Latin?"

"I do, Master," the other minotaur replied.

Master? thought Markus, suddenly puzzled.

"Excellent. Please ... oh, you don't know where my suite is, do you?"

"No, Master."

The gray head shook slightly. "No matter. I'll show you," the gray minotaur said, and then turned to Tag. "Release them, Tag."

Tag shook his head emphatically, and returned to his prostrate position.

The gray minotaur just shook his head. "Dapple, please undo the fetters."

"Yes, Master." The second minotaur moved forward quickly, brushing by Tag, who looked for a moment like he was going to try to stop the white and black minotaur.

"Sir! Please! This will make our Master angry at all of us," Zebra said, and Tag jerked his head in agreement.

"No, he will be angry at me. Since he's already angry at me, I hardly see a problem," the gray minotaur said. "I don't suppose either of you know how to cook?"

The white-and-black minotaur's clever fingers had already unbuckled Zebra, and he turned to release Markus. Yes! he thought. He'd get off from this damnable hobble.

"No, Sir."

"This house should have a minimum staff of ten; it appears to have a staff of three," the minotaur said with something like irritation. "I'd hoped ... well, it hardly matters," the minotaur said. "Probably a bad idea, anyway. Dapple, I think I showed you the kitchen?"

"Yes, Master," the black and white minotaur said, finishing the last of the buckles on Markus's hobble.

"Please let cook know ... Chelm and I will be having dinner. You and Dacien -"

Dacien! thought Markus. The Commander-of-Ten! That's where he'd seen the other human!

"- will be dining with me; I suspect Zebra and Leopard will be with Chelm," the gray minotaur continued. "You two ... what do you usually do when you're not on that thing?"

"Sir?" asked Markus.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry, Sir, but ... we're always on it, if Master isn't having us do something.."

The gray minotaur paused for a moment. "So you're either under direct supervision or locked up, yes?"

"Yes, Sir."

The minotaur just shook his head. "I understand," he said, sounding resigned. "Do ..." and his voice trailed off. "It's been some ... some time since ..." he paused. "Years, actually. Tens of years. I used to ... goodness. I used to go to the theater, the clubs ... the Audium ..." He shook his head again. "I'm sorry; that's hardly helpful to you, either of you, really. Certainly not an option. Can either of you read?"

"No, Sir," the two of them said, Zebra's whisper following Markus's stronger voice.

"And I don't know where Chelm put my books, either," the gray minotaur said, thoughtfully. "Dapple ... bring me a cask of water. The kitchen will have one - a small one."

"Yes, Master," the minotaur said, rising from where he'd released Markus, and he hurried off. Both Markus and Zebra watched him go, curiously.

"Yes, he's a slave," the gray minotaur said, abruptly. "Mine. Obviously."

Did that, Markus wondered, require a response? He looked at Zebra, who was still lying on the bench.

"You may get up, move about," the gray minotaur said. "If you can."

Zebra just shook his head.

"No?"

"Thank you, Sir, but our Master will not approve."

The gray minotaur looked at Zebra for a moment, and then shifted to stare at Markus. "And you, Leopard?"

"I don't wish to be punished, Sir."

"Interesting," said the gray minotaur, tranquilly. "But you don't care about pleasing - or displeasing - your master?"

Markus opened his mouth to say, no, not really, and then decided to be more politic. "I do," he said.

The gray minotaur just nodded, glanced around the room, selected a chair, and settled down in it. "Dacien," and patted the side of the chair.

"Master?"

"Come sit here, please," the gray minotaur said, calmly.

"Oh. Sorry."

A slight shake of the gray head indicated that the fault - if it were a fault - was not worthy of further discussion. "I'd expected to wait for Chelm, but I'd really thought I'd have that book," the gray minotaur said. "How impatient I've become, to let a few hours disturb me so!"

"Master?" said Dacien. "Are you all right?"

"A little tired, but nothing I didn't expect," the gray minotaur said, amazing Markus again. He found it difficult - almost impossible - to imagine Chelm saying something similar. "Just impatient."

"Impatient?"

"Yes," the minotaur said.

"Really?"

The gray minotaur slumped a little in the chair. "No. Not really. You know me too well."

"You could just rechain ..."

"No," and the deep voice had a finality to it. "It is cruel."

"But if they won't move anyway there's no real difference."

The gray minotaur shook his head. "Oh, Dacien. No, no, no. If they are chained, then they have no choices."

"I suppose ..."

"Then restrained, they do not serve, there is no choice, no decision, nothing. Unrestrained, they choose to stay to please their master. "

Markus blinked at this logic. It made sense, in a strange sort of way, but ... was that what he was doing? Pleasing Chelm? He wanted to ... something in him wanted more than anything to serve, be useful to, be loved by, be ...

"I'll have to think about that, Master." Dacien's words broke Markus out of his reflection.

"It's right enough," the gray minotaur said absently. "Are you hungry? I ordered a meal sent to my suite. I thought I might ..."

Whatever the gray minotaur thought was lost as Dapple came back through the door with a small cask. "I've relayed your wishes, Master."

"Thank you, Dapple." It was strange, Markus thought, how the slave-minotaur - and wasn't that a strange thing in and of itself - brightened at the words. The gray one didn't seem to notice, though. "The cask?"

"Here, Master."

"Good," said the gray one, taking it, setting it down between Markus and Zebra. "There. Drink as you are thirsty." He paused, looked at the two of them. "I trust you two will ... behave. Do not make me wrong."

"No, Sir," Zebra said quickly.

"No," Markus said, looking at Zebra, who was signaling him almost desperately. "No, Sir. We will."

The gray minotaur nodded, and then looked at Tag. "You know where my suite is?"

Tag just shook his head.

"Through that door, through the corridor, around ..."

Tag looked stunned for a moment, and then let out a moan, and prostrated himself again.

"Ah. Then you do know where my suite is," the minotaur said after a moment.

Tag lifted himself just far enough off the ground to nod agreement.

"Good. That level of deference is not needed, required, or, to be brutally honest, desired. Please get up. You have treated me with the respect due anyone, that was perfectly correct, and continues to be perfectly correct." The gray minotaur waited for a moment, and then added, "Up. Good. Now, if there's any trouble - come fetch me."

Tag drew himself up, and nodded, deeply.

"Good, Good. Carry on, carry on," the minotaur said softly. "Dacien, Dapple. Please come with me."

The gray one, and his two slaves vanished into the corridor that led to Chelm's room, and Tag slumped with evident relief, turning to Zebra. He pointed at the door, and made gestures. Large gestures. Sweeping gestures.

"A great lord?" asked Zebra.

Tag nodded, and then gestured again.

"Our Master's lord?"

Tag shook his head, and tried again. Eventually Zebra figured out - or guessed, Markus thought, Father. Apparently the gray minotaur was Chelm's father. Markus wasn't certain what that meant, but ... it seemed to impress Zebra almost as much as it had affected Tag.

"He's ... well, I'm not sure, but he's ... really, really important," Zebra said. "Like ... like a Senator, only ... more. An important Senator, one who leads a large bloc. A colleague of Ruus, Lord Chimes. He should be addressed as 'Great Lord,' not just 'Sir.'"

Senator. That made Markus wonder again just what - or who - Zebra had been before he'd been captured, himself. "Yes, but he said ... he said not to. He told Tag ... just to treat him ..."

"He told Tag that. Not us." Zebra whispered, intently. "Minotaurs ... the right form of address is important."

Markus shrugged. He was pretty certain the minotaur wouldn't actually care, but then ... Zebra had had more time to get worked over by minotaurs. He wasn't quite as bad as Tag was, but Markus wondered if he'd end up the same. Being with a minotaur did ... strange things. He twitched, remembering the feel of Chelm's body against him, surrendering to the minotaur ... no. No. It was pleasant, it felt good - very good, but it wasn't what he wanted. It wasn't. It wasn't. And if he just kept telling himself that, maybe, just maybe, he could believe it.

A disgusted sound came from Tag, along with a familiar yeasty smell, even as Zebra - Zebra - shouted, "Tag, stop!"

Markus looked over, staring in disbelief. That couldn't be what it smelled like. Tag had just picked up the cask, and looked back at Zebra. "Give me a drink of that, Tag."

Tag shook his head, and gestured, but Zebra repeated himself. "Give me a drink, Tag!" and the human lifted his hands as if to say, 'if you insist,' and poured it out, grimacing with distaste as the dark brown liquid foamed thickly into heavy glass tankard.

"That can't be ..." started Markus. "Oh, yes!"

"He said it was water!" Zebra said, and took the glass, and then a tentative mouthful. The tattooed human just looked over at Markus, and grinned. "It's better than I remembered," Zebra said. "Much."

"Tell ... ask Tag to get me a glass!"

"Tag, Markus wants some, too. No, it's not bad water. It's a drink. It's good. Really good. It's beer."

"Beer!" said Markus, in amazed wonder.

Dacien followed Teodor and Dapple further into the house, cringing at the bright, discordant striped colors. "Chelm dislikes gray as much as I do," the minotaur said almost wistfully. He stared into a tiny room, with a look of surprise. "Do you know, I think that's Chelm's room. Still."

"Still?"

"It was the nursery," Teodor said dryly. "Just off my suite ..." and they walked through a huge bathing room into a larger room - a bedchamber. One of the servants who'd greeted them at the door was making the bed, and he began to apologize.

"Stop," said Teodor. "Just finish setting the room to rights, please. Is the sitting room ready?"

"Yes, Master."

"Good, good. You finish up in here; I'll go in there. Lunch is laid in the sitting room?"

"Yes, Master."

The minotaur smiled. "Excellent, well done, thank you. We're going to eat and rest - please let Chelm know I'm in when he comes home."

"We will, Master."

Teodor just chuckled, and moved on through another door into yet another gray room. Gray walls held a window; sunlight played on gray embroidered carpet. Gray chairs - almost more like huge chair-shaped cushions - were scattered around the room. Five glass orbs hung from the ceiling on silver chains, emitting a cool light that just emphasized the utter grayness of everything. And even here, the gray matched so closely that simply by blurring his vision, Dacien could make all the details of the room vanish into a monochromatic gray haze.

"I ... I think I see what you mean - begin to see, anyway, the whole problem with gray," Dacien said.

"Traveling with you, Apprentice, has been a joy," Teodor replied seriously. "Always before - even if there was color, I could quite literally watch it fade away into this ... this ... non-color," he gestured about the room. "It doesn't sound bad until ... until you live with it for a while. If ..." and the gray minotaur paused. "Perhaps things will change."

"If?"

"I look ahead to the future, a dangerous pastime, as it is both inaccurate and blinds one to the present," Teodor said crisply. "Perhaps. That is all one can say," and he sat down in one of the huge, plush chairs. It fit the minotaur, emphasizing again to Dacien just how large they were in comparison to humans - after a while, the differences seemed to shrink, and minotaurs seemed just like largish humans. "Bring me that tray, would you?"

"Yes," Dacien said. "I don't suppose ..."

"No," Teodor said, firmly. The gray minotaur paused. "I don't want to be alarmist, Dacien, but ... eating anything at this point could cause, at the very least, some extreme intestinal distress. You don't want, I'm sure, to spend the day vomiting, or with dry heaves. And at this point, anything other than water or milk would probably cause that."

"I ..."

"Or worse," the minotaur added. "I don't think it would be fatal - I think it is too soon, but I also think it could be. And in a few days, it would be."

"Fatal?" asked Dacien. "That ... that doesn't sound real. You're kidding, right?"

"No," said Teodor seriously. "Although I trust that I enjoy humor as much as anyone, I have never been a particularly jocular sort, and I am not jesting now. I am serious, deathly serious, Dacien."

"Oh," said the human, bringing the tray of food - small sandwiches, slices of fruit, nuts, and cheese - to the minotaur. "They smell good, though."

"They do, and I certainly understand that you might be tempted," Teodor sighed. "I can only say the condition will be over ... at some point - I won't try to predict when - and you'll be able to indulge at that point. But not right now."

"Because of your experiment."

"Yes," admitted Teodor, taking a sandwich. He lay back in his chair. "It occurs to me that ... we'll be undisturbed for a few hours."

Dacien looked confused for a moment, and then nodded. "Oh. Yeah, I suppose. Besides ... I think I'm getting used to it."

Teodor smiled, and began unbuttoning his shirt.

The sun had gone down; the window had turned into a black mirror in the cool light coming from the hanging orbs, and Dacien was dozing on top of Teodor when the door slammed open, and a roan minotaur in white clothes, garishly decorated with colored ribbon, charged in. Dapple moved immediately and quietly to intercept him.

"Wait, wait," said Teodor, bringing Dacien completely out of his doze. "Really, Warlord, it's customary to knock on the door."

"Oh?" the voice was minotaur-deep, but the minotaur - who had to be Chelm, stopped. Dapple looked a little relieved, but no less watchful. "Customary? It's customary to send notice you're coming. It's customary to refrain from intoxicating other's slaves. Or, for that matter ..."

"Stop." Teodor's voice was as cold as ice. "That is something I want to discuss with you. You're aware - I know you're aware - how I feel about long-term restraints, and yet you abused humans with that -"

"It's not abusive," Chelm snarled back.

"I say it is, and in the off chance you've forgotten, this is my house!" Teodor said, his voice rising. "In my house - this deplorable, dishonorable, vile practice - I will not say you are dishonorable for using it, whatever I think, but to find you doing it here, in my home, was infuriating."

"It's not abuse!"

"Whether it be or no," Teodor said, forcing his voice back down, "you are aware - yes or no, Warlord - that I consider it abuse."

"Yes! I'm aware of any number of nonsane positions you champion!"

"Regardless of their sanity or lack thereof," Teodor continued, and Dacien could hear the strain of keeping his voice level, "when I have made my principles clear, is it just and reasonable that you should flout them in my house? Especially over the very same thing we quarreled over?"

The white-clad minotaur shook his head, but said nothing.

"No?"

"I'm sure that's not right, but I'm too angry to dispute it at the moment," the minotaur said, clearly forcing himself to be civil. "Providing them alcohol, however, was beyond irresponsible - it was dangerous."

Teodor nodded. "And if I had provided them alcohol, you'd be quite right. But what I provided them was glamoured water. All the pleasure of beer with none of the associated toxicity."

"They're passed out! From glamoured water?"

Teodor smiled. "It was a particularly good glamour, if I do say so myself."

"Good," and the roan minotaur seemed to relax a little.

"Does this have something to do with the strange blood condition of the tattooed one?" asked Teodor.

"You noticed that?"

"Yes," said Teodor.

"Before I answer ... what strange condition?" said Chelm. "He shouldn't show any irregularities at the moment."

"He has blood traces of six humans in him," Teodor said.

"But you didn't see anything else?"

Teodor shook his head. "No. And I looked fairly deeply."

"He has a degenerative blood condition - metabolic toxins aren't being cleared correctly. Or so Trand says."

Teodor blinked in surprise. "I didn't sense anything out of balance, just ... a melange of traces. Nothing wrong, just ... very strange."

"I've been treating him by flushing out his blood and replacing it."

"Oh," said Teodor, and paused. "I admit, I'm a little disappointed, since I rather thought I was the only one to do that, but I'm delighted it's working. Who came up with the idea of doing a blood replacement?"

"You did," Chelm said dryly. "It was something you said, when I was studying in college."

The gray minotaur snorted. "You listened to something I said?"

"I listened to everything you said," Chelm said. "That proved to be ... very helpful. None of us could come up with any other treatments, so we tried it, testing the blood for matches. We found ten matching humans - finally - and we've been flushing him out every eight months or so. Although we're having to do it sooner, and sooner."

"The condition is worsening?"

"Maybe," said Chelm. "Probably."

"Bring him up to Mistingrise next time you think he needs treatment," Teodor offered. "Let me take a look."

"I don't want to impose ..."

Teodor snorted again. "Aren't you a little curious why I'm here?"

"Books, I'm told. They're packed in sealed chests ..." Chelm paused. A look of unhappiness crossed his face. "Oh, no, my clothes ... how long have you been here? My wardrobe's not sealed, and I've had sections painted ..."

"Relax, they're fine," Teodor said. "I've ... found a way to suppress my signature. It works for short periods of time."

"You have," said Chelm, eyes narrowed. "You told me that was impossible."

"Did I?" asked Teodor. "I don't recall specifically, but I may have, certainly. I was wrong." The gray minotaur grinned at his son. "I've been wrong about things before, surely."

"Yes," said Chelm. "I moved your books up to the attic. Each bookcase went into a separate box - they're wrapped in lead foil."

"Good. Go fetch me - please - Flius's Hitsory of the War. Yes, the title is misspelled, the 's' and 't' switched. Flius did that a lot."

"You have the original?"

Teodor's tone changed as a reproving tone entered. "Flius, Chelm, was there. He was Scyllan. He watched. And somehow, he managed to write objectively, clearly, and very thoughtfully. The letter transpositions are traditionally retained as a sign of respect to a great bull."

"Fine, fine. Any other books?"

"A book on training humans. It wasn't in the library - it was in my desk, in the scriptorium. Green leather cover, bronze fittings. Ouroborous scholar - Malar. I don't quite remember the title, I'm afraid."

"Not Malar, Maelar. Maelar Ouroborous. O Katallilos Paideia apo Anthropinos. And it's bound in red and bronze," Chelm said.

"What?"

"It's bound in red and bronze."

"I think you're right about the title, but I remember it quite clearly," Teodor said, after a moment. "It was bound in hunter green leather with gargoyle bronze fittings."

"It was, yes," admitted Chelm. "But it's not, now."

"Why ... did you have it ... you read it?"

"I did. I spilled vitriol across it - just the cover, not the text, and ... so I had it rebound." Chelm shot an apologetic look at the appalled gray minotaur. "I'm sorry."

"You were reading a book while you were working with vitriol?"

"No, I was reading it before I was working with vitriol - I was compounding an analate, flowers of analate, and I ..."

"You read it?" The gray minotaur's voice combined astonishment with suspicion.

"I do know how to read, so, yes, I read it. I found it interesting." said Chelm. "I had ..."

"You aren't ... tell me you're not using those techniques!"

"I modified them," said Chelm, judiciously. "They were a little severe, and not ... not designed for what I wanted. But yes, I found the text inspirational in any number of ways."

Teodor groaned. "On those two poor humans downstairs."

Chelm shrugged - an impressive gesture from such a big creature. "I didn't hurt them."

Teodor just closed his eyes. "They're your responsibility," he said, his voice declining further commentary. "Regardless of the binding, I want that book, too. And a book by Demitrian. It was ... a story. A rather fantastical story, in the third bookshelf."

"You read those? I thought that was where you put the well-meant gifts."

"It is," said Teodor. "Was. They were still good for diversion, from time to time. The book by Demetrian. And ... do you have any more of that foil?"

"I could wrap them and put them in a box for you, if that's ..."

"Yes, that's exactly what I want."

"If it speeds you on your way, it will be my pleasure."

"Ah."

"You're staying," the roan minotaur said, painfully neutrally.

"Just for the night. But there was one matter ..."

"Just one?"

"One at a time, at least," said Teodor. "It's been a while since we last talked."

"Yes."

"I believe I said some ... inappropriate things."

"Yes," said Chelm, drawing the word out.

Teodor smiled brightly. "I am deeply sorry for those rash words."

Dacien watched the look on Chelm's face change from suspicion to shock as Teodor continued. "I beg your forgiveness."

The roan minotaur's face went blank; just blank. "You ... what?"

"I beg your forgiveness," Teodor repeated, cheerfully, and then said it a little louder, and more slowly. "I. Beg. Your."

"You can't do that!" the words snapped out.

Teodor leaned back a little, and Dacien thought the gray mage was suppressing a fit of giggles, from the twitches of his muzzle.

"I must say," Teodor said, almost mournfully, "that as painful as it is to disagree with you, especially when I am apologizing for clear wrongs, that I must. I can. I did. I do."

"Are you mocking me?"

Teodor paused, tilted his head to the right. "I hope not. It isn't my intent. And I don't think I am. I'm entirely serious in that I admit my ire got the better of me, I acted in a way I now wish - and have wished for nearly sixty years - that I did not, and I beg your ..."

"No!"

"No?" said Teodor, and this time, he sounded surprised - and sad. "I have waited ..."

"No, no," said the roan minotaur quickly. "I'm not refusing ... It's that I'm supposed to apologize! Not you!"

"Ah," said Teodor, and there was a short silence. Teodor finally spoke again, hesitantly. "Chelm, please don't take this the wrong way, I mean this ... only as an observation of fact, and I am attaching no meaning to it, I give it no interpretation, but, my son, you haven't."

Chelm was quiet, and Teodor didn't seem to feel the need to add to his statement. The silence grew heavier, and heavier.

"I'll get your books," Chelm said, finally, and turned, walking out. "I'll be back."

Teodor simply watched him go, and a moment after, he turned to Dapple. "Please let me know if he's lurking."

"He's not, Master."

Teodor just nodded. "I don't really think he would," the minotaur said, softly.

"He is moving faster, though, up above us."

"In the attic, fetching books," Teodor said, closing his eyes. "Exactly what he said he'd be doing."

Dapple nodded.

"I think he just needs time to think, Master."

Dapple shot Dacien a disapproving nod, but Teodor nodded, eyes still closed. "Perhaps. I appreciate your thoughts, Dacien. I am ... I am too close to this to think clearly. I can use magic to calm my body, as a warlord would use tempus-techniques to calm his - as I'm sure Chelm is doing - and that helps the mind, but ... I am not so foolish as to confuse mage-induced calm for objectivity."

"It gives you time to think, too."

"Yes," breathed the minotaur. "And ... other things. Dapple, do you recall a box I received from Lord Green? In the carriage?"

"Yes, Master."

"Would you be good enough to retrieve it for me?"

"Of course, Master. Now?"

"If you could," said Teodor. "Quickly."

"I can't do that without letting Chelm know I've gone, Master."

"Then quietly will do."

"Yes, Master," the minotaur said, and hurried, quietly, out of the room. He returned, carrying the box, about six minutes later.

Five minutes after that, Chelm returned with a smaller box, but he didn't offer it to Teodor, didn't say anything, just went through the door into the bedroom, and returned, a few moments later. "They're all here," he said.

"Thank you," said Teodor. "Could you put it on the stand?"

"Of course," Chelm said, doing that, and glancing at the box Dapple had brought, curiously.

"I received that from Lord Green, when we left yesterday," Teodor said. "I assume you heard about the assassination attempt?"

"Yes."

"Lord Green was ... angry." The gray minotaur paused. "That is an understatement, you understand."

"I do," Chelm said.

"Maybe. Open it, and you'll see just how angry Lord Green is."

Chelm looked distrustfully at Teodor, and then leaned over to open it, and pulled out a large bulky thing, wrapped in gray silk. "And this is?"

"Don't blame me for that," said Teodor, lightly. "Lord Green chose the color. Open it. Go ahead."

"Does it matter which?"

"Not really," said Teodor. "Go on."

Chelm untied the thin cord holding it closed, and unwrapped the silk covering. "I ... this isn't ..." and the minotaur brought out a tanned leather hide - white, with black splotches.

It was, Dacien thought, just about the size of a minotaur.

"It is," Teodor said. "It's a trophy. Find somewhere ... inconspicuous ... for the thing, please. There are two more. One is to be delivered to Redding Clave, along with an apology for the death of Talosh."

"And the third?"

"A second trophy."

Chelm's eyes narrowed. "Why would Lord Green give you two?"

Teodor sighed. "He gave me one as Lord Fog, since I was attached. The second is for Dapple."

Chelm stared at the slave minotaur for a long minute. "Why?"

"I'm sure he had his reasons," Teodor answered. "Which will have to remain his, at least for the time being. Apply to Lord Chimes for more information."

"I have," said Chelm. "Lord Chimes informs me that I have no pressing need to know."

Teodor smiled regretfully. "Whether I agree or not, it is not my place to second guess Lord Chimes on such a matter."

Chelm folded the minotaur skin gingerly. "I'll find somewhere to put it. Out of sight, I agree."

"Thank you," said Teodor. "I ordered the dining room opened, and dinner for both of us."

"I ate. With Lord Chimes."

Teodor nodded. "And I note that you're wearing the braids of a Grandmaster."

"It was a recent elevation."

"Like those lavender cords?" Teodor opened his eyes, stared at the decorations on Chelm's - uniform, Dacien realized. "Does Grandmaster outrank Learned?"

"Yes," Chelm said.

"Ah. A moment. Dacien. Ruus - Lord Chimes - has apparently insisted -"

"Yes," growled Chelm.

"- that his new bodyguard, or commander of his bodyguard -"

"Second. I'm only his second," Chelm said.

"- Second, then, wear his honors - all of them. Probably to make the point to the other guards that, despite what one might hear, what, I might add if I were feeling just a little surprised that Chelm hadn't mentioned any of these honors to me -"

"We weren't talking."

"- is ..." and Teodor paused. "I've lost the sentence. Honors. Chelm here is quite decorated, surprisingly so. The black braid indicates a tempus Grandmaster, and to the best of my knowledge Clan Lycaili only has seven, including Chelm -"

"Nine," corrected Chelm.

"Nine, then. Each lavender cord represents expertise at some scholarly matter, one who can instruct or tutor. Bulls study years in the hope to attain one, and Chelm has four. Might I inquire, Learned, as to what they represent?"

"Mathematics, Jurisprudence, Medicinals, and Botany," Chelm said. "Quite easy ones, all of them."

"The gold braid indicates he's a warlord, with emphases. Three emphases. Again, no way to know what they are without asking, so, Warlord? What are your specialties?"

"Maul, logistics, full-blade."

"It's quite a collection."

"Bits of cloth," said Chelm, bitterly. "Useless trinkets."

Teodor blinked. "Why - why do you say that?"

"Because - because I'm ..." Chelm looked at Teodor, furious. "Because it really doesn't matter what I do. I'm your son, and nobody will employ me."

"What?" said Teodor, sounding truly surprised.

"Lord Chimes made it clear - quite clear, when I tried to join the Council Guard, I wasn't welcome."

"But you're his second!"

"Because Kanail wrapped this around my throat," said Chelm, tapping the black braid. "Because he needed another tempus grandmaster to keep watch on Lord Chimes. I didn't challenge for this status, Kanail awarded it to me."

"He wouldn't give it to you if it weren't warranted," Teodor said, after a moment. "Or do you believe otherwise?"

Chelm ignored the question. "Lord Chimes made it clear that my joining his personal guard was a temporary condition."

"I doubt it," said Teodor. "Although he may wish that to be true."

"You know something?"

"Nothing ... nothing I can discuss."

Chelm looked at his father, intently. "I am the second of Lord Chimes's personal guard, Lord Fog, and if you ..."

"I know nothing Lord Chimes does not," Teodor said quietly. "And it is his place to inform you, if he want you to know."

"Fine," said Chelm, tightly.

"So, why exactly is that, being my son, you cannot be employed?"

Chelm snorted. "The ones that would hire me, would only hire me to get at you."

"But that makes no sense," Teodor objected. "We're not talking."

"Exactly," said Chelm, in a too-cheerful voice. "So they won't. Then there are those that won't hire me because you would be angry at them."

"I would?"

Chelm laughed, a sound that had very little humor in it. "No, but it's not as if I could convince them of that."

"Ah," said the gray minotaur.

"The rest of them would hire me, if you would hire one of their protégées in your guard."

"My guard?" asked Teodor, puzzled. "I have no guard."

"Again, father, your razor intellect identifies the problem. No guard."

"Oh," said Teodor. He was quiet for another moment. "I'm sorry, son. Is there something I could do?

"Appoint a guard."

"I spend most of my time at Mistingrise. It's secure, and ... more than secure. Much more. And why would I want to trap any youngsters out there? It's ... it's good for me, but it's quite boring. Nothing happens at Mistingrise, nobody would thank me for that posting."

"You asked."

"I ... I beg your forgiveness. I surely did," Teodor said. "A guard. I'll consider it."

Chelm smiled. "Do that."

Teodor blinked, and looked startled. "Oh. How inconvenient. How extremely inconvenient." He paused for a moment. "Most, most inconvenient."

Chelm just shook his head.

Teodor considered for a moment. "There is the other matter, of course."

"Other matter?"

"I believe I asked your forgiveness, in that matter of ..."

"Yes," Chelm said. "I forgive you."

"Thank you."

"And ... I was not blameless," Chelm added. "I beg your forgiveness, for my rude words, for my insolence, and for shaming you in public."

"I forgave you long ago," Teodor said. "Nothing remains to forgive. Even if you've already eaten, would you, perhaps, join me for dinner?"

"Certainly."

Teodor smiled, and turned his head. "Dapple, please take Dacien down to dining room. We will be along in a minute."

Dapple shook his head. "Master - " and Dacien had the pleasure of seeing surprise ripple through the roan minotaur "- I cannot protect you if you send me away. Not from this one."

"You cannot protect me if you stay, either." Teodor said. "I am not afraid of physical harm from my son."

Dapple looked at the roan doubtfully. "As you command, Master." The black-and-white splotched minotaur stood. Dacien followed him to the door.

The human heard Chelm starting to talk as the door closed, "How did you get a -" and the voice was reduced to meaningless noise, and then it went silent, gray and cold, as Teodor's magic wreathed the house.

They walked down the corridor, and down the stairs before Dacien started talking. "Does - it has to bother you, doesn't it?"

"What?"

"Being a minotaur and a slave," Dacien said. "Having to explain it, over and over and over. Or having Master explain it."

"No," said Dapple, twisting his muzzle into a minotaur-smile. "It doesn't bother me."

"Why not?"

"Why would it?" Dapple said, calmly. "I've told you. My responsibility is to my Master." He paused. "Masters. I exist to please them. You and him. What others do, think, say, or expect is of no importance, Master."

"Oh," said Dacien, daunted. They walked on, and then the spell of silence that had wrapped the house dissipated, in a burst of cool, gray, tension. "I think they're coming."

"Yes," said Dapple.

"You can track them?"

"I can sense ..." he paused, uncertain for a moment. "Master's son. He cannot quite keep himself out of time, and so each step causes a slight ripple."

"He's not good?"

"He's very good. He may even be as good as this Kanail thinks." said Dapple. "He reaches into time like it is natural for him to do so. Like an eel swimming. He slides through time like only a great tempus master can. It is that I feel. Any tempus master does the same."

"Oh," said Dacien. "So he can sense you, in the same way?"

"No," said Dapple.

"He's better than you are?"

"No," said Dapple again. "I was trained to withdraw completely from time when I move."

"So you're better than he is?"

"Probably," said Dapple. "I'm sure I know things he doesn't. But which of us is faster - and the true value of tempus is speed - is questionable. If I were between him and Master, than I am certain I could stop him. Beyond that ... I do not know, Master."

Behind them a door slammed shut, and then Chelm was moving past them in a rush. Dapple blinked in surprise.

"What?" asked Dacien.

"He's allowing his emotions to interfere with his control," said Dapple, neutrally. "He must be very ... disturbed. It is not a sign of control."

By the time they reached the dining room, and positioned themselves by the empty seat, across from where Chelm was stiffly sitting, the roan minotaur had apparently regained control of himself. The roan minotaur focused on Dacien, thoughtfully, and Dacien could feel Dapple beside him - not tense, not precisely, but holding himself purposefully relaxed. The human wasn't sure if Chelm noticed, but having the huge minotaur beside him was suddenly very comforting to Dacien.

It took Teodor another few minutes before he came walking in. He looked at Chelm, then Dacien, winced as he saw Dapple, and then he sat down himself.

"I can't believe you," Chelm said bitingly.

"No?" said Teodor.

"I can't."

"All right. Don't," said Teodor. "I'm sorry."

"It's true, though."

"Yes," the gray minotaur said. "It's true."

Chelm just looked at Teodor, betrayed. "Why?"

Teodor stared right back at him. "I don't regret it," the gray minotaur said firmly. "Please. Understand. I'm proud of you. You're ... so talented. I just wish ... I just wish you could ..."

The roan minotaur just snorted, and that was the moment that two of the humans - ones Dacien had seen earlier, came in. Large, almost flat bowls were laid on the white-glass-like plates, and soup was carefully ladled into each bowl, and they ate it in silence. At some unseen direction, a plate was laid for Dapple, as well, on the floor, but not Dacien. He was silent as the three ate, two from the table, one from the floor.

By the time the plates had been removed, and steamed fish had been placed before all three minotaurs, Dacien was starting to feel very bored.

"Why didn't you tell me before?" Chelm finally asked.

"When we weren't talking?" Teodor said, almost instantly, and there was more deep, deep silence as the fish vanished, to be replaced by some kind of flaky bread stuffed - no, baked, Dacien thought - with vegetables and ground pork. That vanished too, and more plates were brought in with a tureen of roasted vegetables - onions, turnips, carrots, and something that smelled bitter.

Dapple was eating his with enjoyment.

"All right, but before that."

"Before that? You were ... twenty?"

"Yes," Chelm said.

"And already quite ... positive. About certain things."

"I'm not wrong!"

Teodor shrugged, and the roasted vegetables went the way of the pastry, fish, and soup, to be replaced with another soup bowl, and a sweet-smelling soup with ... cherries, Dacien thought, floating in it. A fruit soup. "I felt your opinions were ... young. As you were young. I saw no harm in waiting. Perhaps I was wrong."

"It's the human there, isn't it?"

Teodor looked up at Chelm, his tone serious. "You will not interfere with me, Chelm. In that, I speak as your father, and as Lord Fog."

The roan minotaur shook his head, no. Then, he said, "No. No I won't. I just ... I want to understand. Why. And ... how."

Teodor nodded. "You deserve both. I've written it all up, everything you need to know, at least as far as how goes. You remember where I would hide your treats?"

Chelm snorted. "Yes."

"I put it there. At Mistingrise. In case ..."

"So, you're not going to tell me."

"Not now."

"Or tell me why."

"Because I wanted you, Chelm, why else?"

"That's not what I meant!"

"But it's the answer," Teodor said, gently. "What other answer could I give you? I needed to know if it were possible ... if I'd guessed right. Did I mistreat you? Did I ever give you anything other than the love of a father for his son?"

"No," said Chelm. "Never. I may have had a mad bull for a father, but ... you never treated me poorly. Does ... did Grandfather know?"

"Know what?" said Teodor. "That you're my son? Of course he knew. Did he know all of the details? Of course not. He never even asked who your other father was."

"I've asked that before."

"Yes."

"Are you going to tell me now?"

"You'll understand when you read my notes," Teodor said. "It's there. Everything is there."

More silence followed, and a hot, steaming ... Dacien wasn't sure what it was, other than a light caramel color, and it smelled of cheese and sage.

"I want to be involved. As I should be."

Teodor nodded. "That's good. I'd ... hoped you would."

"How much time will it take?"

"I don't know," said Teodor. "I'm not even sure it will work. I think it will, everything I've studied tells me it should, and ... well, it's new. Or rather, so old that I've had to reinvent almost everything. I've ... tested everything I can test. Bit by bit by bit. All the pieces ... seem right."

"Then logically it will work."

"Logic is simply a way to go wrong with great confidence," said Teodor. "I hope ... I am a mage. I think I can tell if something starts to go wrong. I know, roughly, how it works."

Chelm nodded. "It will work."

"More logic?"

The roan minotaur blinked. "No," Chelm said, after a moment. "It is confidence in my father. You may be ... no, you are possessed of the strangest ideas, but ... perhaps there is something to them. And there is no doubt that you do what you set out to do."

"Thank you. I've ... I have a request."

"Anything," said Chelm.

"Perhaps you could ... wait. Excuse me. Dacien. The response of anything to a request for a favor or a deed or a question is actually a contraction of some phrase indicative of anything honorable or anything you ask would be honorable." Teodor glanced back at Chelm. "Thank you, Chelm. So.

"Perhaps you could find and hire a guard for me? I don't think I'll be able to convince the council I don't need one. Although, I don't."

Chelm smiled. "I could. I know ... quite a number of warriors and warlords who would be eager for a position. Perhaps even eager enough to work for a mad bull like Lord Fog Lycaili. What are you looking for? Youth to corrupt?"

Teodor shook his head. "No. Older. Experienced. Responsible, but ... able to be bored. Which they will be, at Mistingrise. And discreet, Chelm, discreet. I hate to think of surrendering my privacy to a guard."

"How many?"

Teodor shrugged. "I don't know. You know Mistingrise. I travel very little. You're the warlord. What do you recommend?"

"Twelve," said Chelm. "And you'll need more humans."

"Yes. I trust you have the connections for that, too?"

"By coincidence, I do."

"Then send what you think I'll need. No ferals, by preference."

"Noted," the roan said. "Some may already have some personal attendants."

"Not a problem," Teodor said. "Offer them ... well. I want loyal, to me, of course. Not the council, not ... anyone else."

"Warriors?"

"Warriors are fine."

"I can. You'll need a warlord to serve as commander and second, though, and I don't know ..." Chelm paused. "There are a couple I could ... I can think of one. He was dismissed for cause - theft. He claimed he was innocent. And ... and I believe him."

"I can interview him," Teodor said, after a moment. "If my son thinks a bull is worthy of a chance, then ... a chance he shall have. Do not warn him that I hear lies, though."

"Won't," said Chelm. "He might know already. Or he might not. I'll ... I'll have to think on the other."

"Another question, Chelm, why ... why are you still in ... that room?"

"The nursery, you mean?" replied Chelm.

"Yes. It's ... isn't it a little small?"

"Yes, but I didn't want to take your suite. I did want to use your bathing chamber," Chelm said. "None of the other tubs are really large enough to soak in." He tapped the golden braids on his shirt. "I appreciated very much being able to soak in hot water."

Teodor nodded. "Good reason. Do you want brandy?"

"Not in your sitting room?"

"No," said Teodor.

"Then no, I don't."

"Chelm, if ... if you could be a mage - if there were a chance, even if it were a little risky," Teodor said, "would ... would you choose to take that risk?"

"Probably," Chelm replied, after a moment. "How risky?"

"Unknown risk," Teodor said. "Probably low. Risky more from being untested than ... having a negative or even unsuccessful outcome. Low chance of working."

"Difficult to assess," Chelm said. "But the clan needs mages." He pondered a bit. "Is this a hypothetical or actual question?"

"Oh, hypothetical," said Teodor. "I suppose tomorrow it might be actual, but ... hypothetical for today."

"Then ..." said Chelm. "Well. There are better minotaurs than myself, who'd be better mages."

Teodor nodded. "Possibly. But leave them out of this hypothesis. This is open to you, and only to you."

Chelm blinked. "Well then. I'd do it, if I thought it was in the best interests of the clan. Today, no. I'm needed by Lord Chimes. But tomorrow? Why not?"

"Why not," said Teodor. "Good answer."

"And since I'm not having brandy - I am going to bed."

Teodor sent Dapple ahead, and so the trip back up to Teodor's bedroom was subdued. "He knows, doesn't he, Master?"

"Not now, Dacien. This is ... need to know."

"But he knows."

"Yes. He needed to know," Teodor said.

"And I don't," Dacien said.

"Correct."

"And you're sure of that, Master."

"Chelm needed to know a number of things. I've needed to tell him for several years now," Teodor said. "And ... what you did with Dapple. Do you think you could replicate it?"

"Maybe," said Dacien. "I don't know."

"Tomorrow morning, I'd like you to try," Teodor said.

"But ..."

"I need to know if this astounding thing can be replicated," Teodor said calmly. "I need to know, and there are only two minotaurs I have the right to experiment with. Dapple is one, and Chelm is the other. After consideration, I find the gain outweighed by the risk, and Chelm is not opposed."

"But he didn't give permission, Master."

"I don't require his permission," Teodor said. "He's my son. His duty is to obey."

Dacien started to object, and then thought better of it. "Yes, Master."

"Thank you, Dacien," the gray minotaur replied.

When they reached the bedroom, Dacien had something else to do with his mouth other than talk, and then, after he'd finished suckling, he was too tired to do anything, or say anything, or even to think. He fell asleep, laying comfortably on top of the gray minotaur.

He woke that way, too - he wasn't sure that Teodor had even moved, other to put his arms around him, and Dacien woke hungry. The room was dark, the window dark, and he wasn't sure what time it was. From the way his stomach growled, though, it had to be near morning. Although ... it didn't matter. He crawled up Teodor just a bit, touched a swollen nipple with his tongue, and the minotaur let out a low, rumbling sigh. He locked his lips around the taut flesh, and ...

Warmth; that was the first sensation, not the taste, oddly sweet, not the feel of the milk, heavy and t thick, but the warmth of it. Warmth that trickled into him, and Dacien wondered, briefly, just how addictive minotaur milk was, compared to the rest of a minotaur, but did it matter? He was already addicted, completely and thoroughly addicted to Teodor, as much as he could be.

And the milk was wonderful; it filled some new craving need. He drank hungrily, and the rich liquid soothed the pangs, relaxed him, and ...

He realized Teodor was asleep - and making a deep, almost cow-like sound, a lowing, and the muscles were twitching, rhythmically. The flow began to lessen, recede, and Dacien carefully turned over, to repeat the exercise on the other nipple, causing the still-sleeping ... was he really asleep, Dacien wondered, as he rhythmically sucked and kneaded the nubbin of flesh. The sounds ... pleasurable moans, and an occasional jerk, but still, the minotaur's breathing seemed calm. Maybe asleep, Dacien thought, and if Teodor was only pretending, then he would pretend, too. Dawn had to be soon, he thought.

Soon.

Dacien missed dawn, it was Teodor's waking that woke him, the minotaur caressing him awake. "Dacien."

The human opened a sleepy eye, and then the other, and stretched out, still laying on the minotaur. "Breakfast," the minotaur whispered. There was a silver tray, set with more of those gleaming white-and-gold plates, filled with sliced fruit, buns still steaming from the oven, and eggs scrambled with onions and cheese. "I told them to serve me here." The minotaur smiled down at Dacien. "Dapple is seeing to our departure. You slept ... longer than than I'd expected. I rather thought you wake in the night." The minotaur paused. "Or did you?"

"I did. I ..."

"I slept through it?" Teodor sounded surprised. "That's ..." he broke off. "Maybe not." He started eating. "Ordinarily, Dacien, I'd never give you less than my full attention, but I'd really appreciate it if you could drink while I am eating." He took a long drink of juice. "Assuming you're hungry."

"I am," Dacien said, and then said nothing more, for a time.

The carriage was waiting for them, and interestingly, so was Chelm, in his white clothing. "I wanted to see you off."

"Thank you," said Teodor. "But you're going to be late."

"I'll be with Ruus five minutes after you leave," said Chelm. "Trust me."

"Yes, actually, I do."

"I know," Chelm said. "I'm sorry if I was ... upset ... last night."

"You had reason to be. I ... never imagined this particular situation," Teodor said. "Never."

"It does seem unlikely. When will the council find out?"

Teodor shook his head. "I don't know. A month, two, three. Within the year."

"And you don't know how they'll react."

Teodor smiled. "Not so. Lord Green will be furious. Lord Chimes will be furious. Lord Winter will be furious. Lord Lash will be furious. Lord Doze will be mildly perturbed, because I don't think anything could make Sasha furious. Even this."

"That doesn't sound good."

Teodor shook his head again. "I will deal with them. Lords Green and Chimes owe me a favor, and I will call it. Sasha I can convince. Metrios and Lord Winter are really the two I fret over, but that's still four to two in the worst case."

"It still doesn't sound very good. They'll resent it."

"For a time. Then new problems will grab their attention," Teodor said softly. And then, head towards the human and quite hidden from Chelm, Teodor gave Dacien a wink.

Oh. Dacien nodded back, and just nodded back. He pushed out a little, sensed the usually-calm gray cool streaming from Teodor, only it carried more, somehow. Tightly repressed excitement. The soft pull of power - his and Teodor's - pouring into Dapple.

And there was Chelm, a steady presence, a balanced almost perfectly in the shifting tides of magic. When he'd done this by accident, to Dapple, Dapple had been .... not a portal, but a view. He'd seen magic, through the minotaur. Chelm, on the other hand, was opaque; balanced, magic flowing around him touching him only barely, giving the merest hint to his presence. Almost an absence, pulled in. Tight.

Dacien reached out, touched it with his own power. It felt hard, taut, like hide stretched smooth over a drum. He pushed a little, and from somewhere, he heard a grunt, as the smoothness gave into his touch. He pushed harder, and the resistance was tougher. Harder. Something stretched under his power, deepened, and he could feel the quivering tension, and he pushed harder.

Harder.

And then it wasn't there anymore. It was a vast emptiness, achingly cold, and power flowed into in like a torrent. Teodor's, his, the ambient magic flows - everything, sucked into the yawning abyss that Dacien was suddenly pulling back from, back into himself.

"What was that?" said Chelm, looking alarmed. "I thought ..."

"Yes?" asked Teodor, interested.

"Nothing," said Chelm, still looking around, as whatever sensation he'd felt faded. "Just ... I don't know."

"It worked," Dacien said, after the carriage pulled away. "Master." He still wasn't quite sure if it had been right or not.

"Yes," said Teodor. "I was watching. Most impressive, Apprentice, most impressive." He smiled. "Ruus is going to get a surprise sometime today. I wonder how long it will take him to notice?"

"How long does it usually take?"

"Who can know?" said Teodor. "I imagine not long. I imagine we'll be hearing from Ruus quite soon."

"I'm sorry, Master - I mean, Teodor, I meant for him to ... become an active mage."

"Oh," said Teodor. "I've no idea," he said after a moment. "I think ... I think I want to wait until Chelm and the other become active before we try this again. There's room for some caution, as we consider just what we've rushed into."

"That ... that sounds like a good idea to me, too," Dacien said, relieved.

It was only about an hour after that that the ghostly voice of the Lord of Chimes sounded in the carriage.

Teodor?

"Yes, Ruus?"

Is this a good time to talk?

"I suppose. We're still traveling to Mistingrise, so ..."

I understand. Did ... did you see Chelm this morning?

"Yes, we talked before I left. Why?"

I have some unexpected news, I think. Chelm is now a potential mage.

"He wasn't last night," Teodor said, and winked at Dacien. "But this is wonderful news!"

In the long run, yes. In the short run, I'm not so sure. I'm going to have to keep a close eye on him. And transfer him to ... I'm not sure. I don't suppose you'd want to train him?

"That's premature," Teodor said. "And there's no need to transfer him until he becomes active. Take him through the initial exercises, and then we can decide who gets him as apprentice."

I don't have the time.

"Let Trand do it, then."

Trand is not a council member.

"And I've been meaning to bring that up."

Xavien already broached the subject. He's not powerful enough to be a Lord.

"He's trained, though." Teodor said. "He can train a lens. In fact, he could take over training the identified humans."

But can he suppress any unwanted magic?

"I would expect so," Teodor said thoughtfully. "He is trained, using his power consciously, against an untrained manifestation."

I hadn't thought of it like that. You may be right.

"And if he's taking over duties usually requiring a council member ... doesn't that suggest he should be a council member?"

You would be in favor of this?

"Yes, I would," Teodor said. "It was I who suggested it to Lord Green."

He didn't say.

"Or perhaps we'd both been considering it. It would take some load off his shoulders, and yours."

It would, indeed. I'm still not sure, I think a Lord should be a powerful mage, not merely well trained, but I'll ask the others. Or have you raised the point with them, too?

"No," said Teodor. "Only Lord Green. I think, however, it might be good to have a Lord who specialized in training, watching the developing mages. Trand is skilled, very well taught, and could do much good."

So Xavien argued, and I will bear it in mind. Next. The Lord of Bones is arriving tomorrow.

"How unfortunate that I'm not in Maze!" Teodor said. "Alas."

You're only three hours away.

"So bring him to Mistingrise for a visit," said Teodor. "We'll have dinner, I'll put him up for the night. You can come too."

No. I want you to return. Perhaps in ... four days time? I'll reserve a box at the symphony for us. Dinner at Diconene's.

"You do know how to tempt me," said Teodor. "Can I say no?"

No.

"Fine. But I'm only staying one night. I can't tolerate more than that."

I understand, but that does bring up the next issue.

"I have requested Chelm to find me some candidates for a personal guard," Teodor said. "If you were concerned with my protection."

Chelm mentioned this?

"I'm sorry?"

Chelm mentioned that I'd discussed creating a guard for you?

"No," said Teodor. "It came up in the context of ... our discussion. He said one of the reasons he'd had difficulty finding a position was that I had no quid pro quo to offer. That made me realize that, although I might have not needed a guard earlier, times have changed. I thought I'd create a six-bull guard. I don't need ..."

Insufficient. You'll need at least twenty-four.

"Ridiculous. I couldn't even house twenty-four, not without expanding Mistingrise," Teodor said. "And what can threaten me at Mistingrise, when I've closed the border? It's better than a seal."

You do leave your home, from time to time.

"And I'm supposed to take a pack train with me?" asked Teodor. "Absolutely not. Six seemed like a reasonable number for my infrequent trips into town."

Twelve.

"Fine, twelve," Teodor said, and smiled at Dacien. "Since you insist. Let Chelm know, would you?"

Yes. I might run some suggestions by Chelm, as well.

"Certainly," said Teodor blandly. "I'm sure that would be helpful. I also asked Chelm to find some more house slaves for me. I don't have enough to cope with that kind of influx."

But you did to offer the Lord of Bones your hospitality?

"Good point. Perhaps not. He'd probably come with his own guard, and your guard, and your guard for his guard ... House Green might not be big enough."

You should expand Mistingrise, Teodor. It might be nice to have a council retreat.

"Is that a threat?"

No, just the council. A few guards. It's a secure location where we all could gather, peaceful ... I think that's an excellent idea.

"I'll take it under advisement," Teodor said. "But wouldn't House Green be better?"

It's too far from Maze. Mistingrise is just nineteen miles.

"I'll take it under advisement," the gray minotaur said again. "Was there anything else?"

No. I'll let you know what the others think about elevating Trand. And the retreat.

"What happens to my peace and quiet?" said Teodor, but Lord Chime's magic had already gone. "Inconvenient," he said. "Most inconvenient."