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"Show me again." Mallear growled, deep in thought, seemingly only semi-aware of the world outside the smoking mirror lain out before him.

"I am still weak, I cannot do much mo-"

"Show me again!" The masked minotaur snarled, cutting short Silk's plea.

"Of course." Silk replied, primly. He visibly gathered himself though Tathal could tell that he was on the verge of passing out, his senses were now so refined that he could smell Silk's weariness.

The mage placed his hand over a candle and it slowly began to fill with a roiling sphere of smoke so thick that it seemed almost solid. He took the ball of smoke and dropped it onto the mirror's surface where it burst like an overripe fruit and spread out to the edges.

The scene replayed along the mirror's misty surface, just a glance from the corner of the viewers eye slowed down to a snailspace so that it could be made out clearly. Tathal paid a little more attention this time, the first he hadn't understood what it was Silk was doing until it had already been done.

The sight of the viewer had been oddly crystaline, the light assuming a bluish-grey flourescence, and strange streaks and whorls like a river's surface hung in the air around them. The scene slowed again as it focused on a skinny human male wearing a short blue tunic and a satchel over one shoulder. His hand was pressed up against the surface of a gleaming pane of black marble set into the wall, upon which there shon glowing runes in peacock-feather colours, slowly pulsating and shifting as the scene progressed.

"Look there!" Mallear exclaimed, stabbing a finger at the smoking mirror. "It's resonating, it's actually reacting to this one's presence." He added, voice slipping into almost reverant wonder.

"What does it mean?" Silk said, despite the sweat beading on his brow from the effort of maintaining the spell.

"It means that we can shorten the completion of the great working from three years to three weeks!" The minotaur mage rose to his hooves and bellowed a triumphant laugh, echoing and ringing the surface of his mask. "A creator gift, it has to be! A gift that allows creator atifacts to be utilised with ease, to make them activate themselves rather than have to be forced into wakening. With this I can access more of the contents of the codex in a minute than I could in a month of prying its secrets from it with spells."

"But I see no disfiguring injuries... to awaken a gift without transformation into an echidnan, no warping of the somatic pathways... is that even possible? Perhaps it was not a gift."

Mallear seemed to consider Silk's words for a moment but eventually waved them away. The minotaur paced the laboratory, intently studying the chalked pictures and writing he called 'diagrams' and 'higher-order mathematics'.

"No, it must be a gift. Activating a creator artifact is not something that could be done by a nascent mage, only a gift has sufficient focus to do such a thing without study. How it became awakened is something that shall haveto be ascertained later... a systemic illness perhaps?" He froze for a moment, then picked up a piece of chalk and made an annotation to one of the diagrams that showed an outline of a human body filled with linear patterns that all converged on circular nodes. "In any case, it is irrelevant compared to the magnitude of this discovery."

"There was something else," Silk began. "It may have just been an idle rumour but there was some hushed talk that there may be..."

"Well? Out with it." Mallear snapped, barely pausing in daubing the careful chalk drawings and text onto the smooth wall.

"Ninjas, ninja are said to have been abroad in Lycaili."

The minotaur stopped in his pacing and after a few moments of stillness put down the stick of chalk carefully on a ledge. He turned and though occluded behind the emotionless steel mask he practically radiated apprehension. Dimly, Tathal wondered just what could possibly make his master afraid.

"Ninja? You are sure of this?"

"That is the rumour anyway." Silk replied.

"No, no rumour. Too few even know of the existence of ninja, few even know the theory behind ninja, if there is word of their movement then we must assume that it is true." A fingertip tapped thoughtfully against the surface of a worktable in staccato rapidity for a second before the minotaur added; "And take proper precautions."

"You're... leaving?" Silk said.

"To the wheel, it has been a while since Mallear the flesh merchant was seen there. Better to be close to our quarry, I must have that human, Silk, this is not a matter for reasoned discussion, I must have him." He paused a moment, perhaps in indecision or... fear? It was hard to tell, but when he spoke next there was a barely-perceptible quaver in his booming voice. "You should have enough strength left for a sending, call ahead and tell my... tell of my arrival. Ravager, come."

Tathal rose from beside Mallear's chair and followed after the minotaur. It was remarkable how quickly he'd gotten used to the new name, sometimes he caught himself calling himself by the title 'Ravager' in his own thoughts. Perhaps it was because it was a name better suited to what he was and what he was becoming. The rough fibers of the burlap swathe draped over his shoulders no longer irritated his skin, it was tough and mottled with fine green scales all down his back and sides, thickest at his shoulders where they were almost lizard-mail. His hands and forearms no longer resembled those of a human in anything other than the number and placement of digits, they were killing-things, equipped with tearing claws and a viselike grip. Long bony spurs protruded backwards down the sides of his tricepts, as sharp as swords. Unconsciously he ran his tongue over teeth that were becoming sharp and pointed, the canines protruding to three times the length of those in the mouth of a normal man. He no longer even missed sandals, his taloned feet were not easily scratched by the hard stone. This was the shape of the dragon within him pushing through to the surface, this was the shape of his Furore'. For the past two days he hadn't needed the harness to contain his gift, when it was finally removed it had been like being given wings, he felt so free, more fully and completely than ever.

As they passed through the winding, serpentine corridors of stone a few echidnans and wolven passed by, they bowed their heads in obeisance to Mallear, of course, but now they did the same to him. It was a curious thought to think that the wolven, creatures he had rightly feared his entire life, now feared him. Mallear had told him that his Furore' was the cause, every wolven with even an modicum of depth in the mind-gift could feel it and the sheer force of the rage sleeping in his breast chilled their blood. The minotaur mage had even postulated that perhaps the Creators had originally made Furore' to be a weapon against the wolven should they get out of line, one which was never put into place.

Well, Mallear found a place for it.

The minotaur marched purposefully to his chambers, the smell of candle wax from the numerous places where it had dribbled down the walls overpowering the stale mildew-stench that filled most of the tunnels. Wardrobes were thrown open and fine clothes of pale leaf-green were withdrawn and lain over the chamber's sparse furniature. They were like wearable works of art, incredibly detailed embroidery and tiny beadwork in abstract patterns decorated the collars and cuffs. Delicate, shimmery patterns across the cloth caught the light revealing traceries like ferns or vines.

Mallear seemed to notice Tathal again, huffed thoughtfully and returned again from the wardrobe with several sets of still fine but plainer looking clothes of human proportions, breeches and sleeveless tunic in a slightly washed-out shade of the same green, udecorated besides from some pleating around the collar.

"These will look about right once resized, but first I must place a suppression on you, it will not be painful but it will feel... peculiar." Mallear explained.

"What's a suppression?"

"I cannot bring you among others looking like that, you must be made to appear fully human again." Mallear caught Tathal's frown and laughed quietly. "All the improvements I have made will remain, they will merely be smoothed back, compressed and occulted, you will bear the appearance of a human but you will remain fully an echidnan."

Tathal was relieved. The thought of losing all the power he had gained was abhorrent but merely having it hidden... well, that was power all of it's own, wasn't it? An errant thought did occur though.

"Master, why bring me at all?"

"Still curiosity? I thought you would have learned by now." The minotaur said, doffing his robe and pulling on a fine shirt, it's collar cunningly made with ties at the side to permit horns. "I want your blade at my side, if it comes to it then that blood-iron may prove more lethal in a battle of Tempus-wielders than even a ninja."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The actual process was just as Mallear had described it, painless but very strange. For a long time after he had stepped out of the casting circle - still retching slightly from the foul brew he had had to drink and the scented oils that had been daubed on his flesh in strange pictograms - his skin had felt uncomfortably tight and stretched across his whole body but it eventually subsided. At the culmination of the ritual spell Mallear placed a thin brass collar around his neck and fastened it there with a pin.

"All slaves of Mallear the merchant wear collars of brass rather than the commoner metals, it is his trademark," The minotaur mage explained, conspiratorially. "This one binds a spell to your flesh and hides it from any spies, it triggers if removed and will revert you to your true form. The pin has a cap on the bottom made to appear hammer-flattened, if it seems like you will need your gift remove the cap and take it off, understood?"

He nodded, grinning ferally. He hoped a time would come when that order would be given, the beast he rode howled for a chance to come forth and rend flesh, to loose it's fury upon a helpless world.

He looked at his hands and thought them soft, weak things but was comforted by the knowledge that it was just a show, like a lion with it's claws sheathed in furry paws. From the folds of his swathe he found the shard of broken mirror and regarded his face as though it were an old friend come to visit. Despite the pleasant nostalgia of seeing his eyes again blue and round of pupil he knew that they were no longer fitting, that they were the eyes of a man, not a dragon. He dressed in clothes that had been fit exactly to his size by some spell of Mallear's, mirroring his own transformation into something smaller. There was at least one pleasure to be had in this return to his old form; the sensual feeling of soft cloth against his skin, not unfeeling scales. Indeed, it was the finest fabric he'd ever worn, softer and thinner than lambswool, some kind of linen made by a technique of weaving that men did not have.

Hard Lightning had to wear a disguise too, the hungering blade was locked in an oddly-shaped box with a shoulder strap designed to hold and protect a long-necked instrument. Apparently it was unseen for a human to be armed among the minotaurs but not to be a musician, a fact which Mallear apparently viewed to be agreeably convenient.

The ritual was repeated for three other Echidnans, whatever form they had once hidden beneath their swathes were replaced by that of a dusky-skinned young woman with short black hair, athletic build and a pair of sparkling sea-green eyes, and a stick-thin albino boy whose face seemed eternally wrapped in a kind of dreamy euphorea. Both bore clothes and collars of brass identical to Tathal's own.

The third struck Tathal with a sense of familiarity, it took him a moment to realise why; it was First. Gone was the mad, hunched, misshapen creature that he had seen wandering the caves, replaced by as handsome a man as he had ever seen. Ruddy hair fell down his wide, square shoulders like lava. He stood straight and tall, arms ending in hands with the normal complement of fingers, not a nightmarish nest of tentacles or a grotesquely-swollen demon's paw. The face that had been so heavy with shame now bearing some tiny glimmer of mixed pride and sorrow. He looked healthy and strong and well proportioned - everything he was, in truth, not. Now Tathal could understand the enormity of what First had lost so that Mallear could perfect the techniques of biomancy, and his master's shame at taking it. Where Tathal had been made greater by Mallear's working First had not been so fortunate. Even before he knew this he had called Mallear a monster for doing it. Well, they were all monsters together now.

"Hello there." First said, brightly as ever.

"You... speak normally now." Tathal mumbled, more stunned at First's transformation than his own.

First smiled and tapped his teeth with a fingernail. "Normal teeth, normal tongue. 'Tis hard to speak with the tongue of a snake and teeth better fit for the mouth of a dog."

When Mallear returned from completing the rituals he was dressed as finely as an Imperial noble-son in a deep emerald green tunic and teal trousers decorated so beautifully that they left no need for jewelry. The minotaur passed a hand over his mask and it shimmered and seemed to vanish, replaced by his true features. Yet another disguise for the truth, Tathal thought.

"These are Deathwake and Ladon, they are your soldiers, Ravager." Mallear said, indicating the two Echidnans he did not recognise. "They will obey you as they obey me."

The two faux'-humans bowed to Tathal. Ladon, the boy, was the first to actually speak, though it would have probably been better if he hadn't - even in human form his voice was thin and whispery, like bones being dragged across a tomb floor.

"Command us and we shall kill, if the great master desires it." He said, unctuously, punctuating the sentence with a small, mad titter of laughter.

"We are two of the strongest," Added Deathwake, the woman. "We can fight even with Tempus."

"Oh?" Tathal said, only mildly interested. "Good, then tell me what you can do..."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the first time in what seemed like months, but was probably mere weeks, he felt wind on his skin and squinted at the harshness of the cold light of day filtered through a sky overcast with gloomy dark clouds. The cool air was refreshing, even when it did bite through his clothes.

After wandering over, and sometimes across, a few twisting trails they eventually ended up at a long paved road that streached out through the mountain pass. It was wide, in places the rock had even been hewn flat from the sides of the pass to widen it, and creamy convex slabs of stone scored with rain-tracks gave it an admirably stable surface.

Waiting for them was a carriage of dark, polished wood behind four large chestnut geldings with a cloaked figure that was probably an Echidnan holding their reigns. The seal of a five-spoked red wheel was emblazoned upon the door but otherwise it was a modest affair. The figure passed the reigns to Ladon, who lept up to take the driver's seat, and then disappeared back up the rocks after bowing to Mallear, who waved the creature away. Inside, plush green upholstered benches large enough to accomodate minotaurs lined both sides of the cabin.

"Sit," said Mallear, indicating the bench opposite his, and rapped the roof with his knuckles, almost immediately the carriage began to move off.

"Now, there are certain protocols that I have not explained that may prove useful for you to know while we are in the city." Mallear began, fixing Tathal with his gaze. "I want this affair to be concluded quickly so most of it will likely not come up at all, but as a precaution..."

"Yes, Master. What must I know?" Tathal said.

"Too much in too short a time, but for simplicity's sake just remember the following; address all minotaurs other than me as 'Sir', if anyone gives you an order then reply that you are on an errand from me then excuse yourself and get away as quickly as possible and never show aggression, even to a human. As much as it would amuse me for one of my fellows to set about chastising an errant human and find themselves missing an arm it would draw a great deal of attention - attention I neither need nor desire. So contain your rage for now, Ravager, no doubt you will have ample opportunity to release it at some time. Some time soon, I should think."

"Yes, Master." Tathal replied. Small indignities indeed, he would have no difficulties bearing the window-dressing of servility, especially if he could finally have the opportunity to flex his claws.

The ride continued mostly in silence besides for one occasion where Mallear lookedmup suddenly and started having a conversation with Silk - over a mile away back in the caves. It had been short and perfunctory but when it was finished the minotaur had a stormcloud look in his great black eyes but said nothing of its source.

The first indication he had that they were nearing a settlement of some sort was an increase of travellers on the road - mostly by foot and hoof, he noted, the minotaurs apparently did not ride the great draught-size beasts they bred. The sounds of rolling wagon wheels and the mundane conversations of teamsters steadily increased until they passed through the city walls, black-stone walls, crenelated and almost as thick than they were tall. There the noise became all-pervasive, thousands of raised voices that ranged between the diaphragm-shaking bass of minotaurs to the alto's and tenors of human voices that seemed to be almost in equal number. From the window he could see a city market street much like any other, just larger. Commerce apparently was universal, even among creatures as strange as the minotaurs.

At last the carriage came to a halt before a large building which stood out architecturally from all the others. In contrast to the harsh lines and squareness of most of the city this one bore curving slopes to the wall-tops and rounded arches over the doors. The stone was the colour of red ochre and a copper dome stood as it's roof, trickling verdigris down the sides like ivy. Stepping down into the street he saw that the building itself was curved, spherical like a wheel lain on its side. Stablehands led the carriage and its horses away as they entered, the large central doors were wide open and leading into a long hall with irregularly-shaped terracotta tiles underfoot and curtains of thin umber gauze over the windows that lent the light a sepia tone, softening it from the bleak paleness of the outside.

The sound of minotaur conversation echoed up the corridor, at the end of it was a large, circular chamber, presumably the hub of the building. Six minotaurs sat on well-stuffed leather divans smoking something pungent from long-hosed water pipes and drinking dark, steaming tea from silver-handled glasses. Most of the massive bulls were pitch-black in their pelt besides for one cream dappled with red speccles and one of an earthy brown, but all of them were dressed as richly, if nto more, than Mallear, one in particular wore large gem-studded rings on every finger and two more the size of bracelets about the base of his horns.

"Ah, so the master of the Red Wheel returns at long last!" Piped one, affecting a muzzle-twisting minotaur grin around the stem of a water pipe.

"Good afternoon, fellow worthies," Mallear said in a voice so disarmingly unctuous that Tathal didn't realise at first that it was he who was speaking. "Yes, I have just returned from a recent venture of acquisiton, I trust my establishment has been well kept in my absence?"

"Exceedingly, including the quality of your leaf," said another, blowing a puff of smoke. "We've just been admiring some of your wares, the next lot are due in any minute now."

"And anything like the last and you can count against getting your hands on them if my purse has anything to say about it." Laughed the gem-studded bull, heartily.

"Creation, Mallear, how can you manage to sell such creatures at so low a sum that even a miser like Galdon is willing to part with coin for them?" Said the dappled cream, propping his massive head up in one hand.

"I have certain sources, all perfectly legal, I assure you, but my contract with them is quite exclusive." Replied Mallear, airily, striding over to the assembled group and taking a seat on one of the divans. The other three Echidnans followed after the minotaur and knelt on the floor behind him, Tathal quickly followed suit, it wasn't so bad with the sheepskin rug softening the ground.

"Indeed, like that albino of yours there... would your sources be able to obtain more of those?" Said the jeweled minotaur, eyeing Ladon. Tathal guessed he was, like the rest, a merchant of some description and a successful one at that.

"I could... though it would not be easy, and not cheap." Mallear said, he snapped his fingers and made some gesture and First lept forward to pour a glass of tea which he presented to his master on a small platter. "of course, my prices will still be lower than anyone else's."

"What about health? I hear there are some issues with albino's, might not be worth the suns in the long run." Said one of the others, skeptically,

"Nothing serious, providing they are kept out of bright sunlight for long periods and given minor dietary adjustments. Eggs, fish, the sort of things that a healthy human should get anyway." Mallear said, dispelling the other's worries. "And that shouldn't be an issue, my stock are too precious to be wasted in fields, you may as well hammer nails with a scepter."

"Quite right, but they do make for a fine adornment about one's home." Commented one, also gazing thoughtfully at the ghostly Ladon.

"I've heard enough, how many can you get me within the next quarter?" Barked the jeweled merchant, suddenly all business.

"As many as you require." Mallear replied, cooly, setting the teacup down untouched.

"Creation! Your sources must be mages!" Laughed the dappled merchant.

"Not quite, but they have their methods." Mallear replied, wryly.

"So if I was to say... twelve healthy, trained and unmarked albinos by time for the spring markets - say, half male, half female - you would be able to deliver on this?" Continued the bejewled minotaur.

"Of course, you have some specific clients in mind?"

"Mmmm, I know a few in several foreign clans who might be interested, the further affield we sell your oddities the higher the prices we can charge." The merchant took another pull on his pipe, the water bubbled merrily as the smoke was drawn through. "One has to wonder why you do not simply sell outside of Manticore yourself, not that I complain."

"I have not the patience to manage a tradign empire and my business with you all has proven more that sufficiently profitable to suit my needs. Besides, is not an arrangement which benefits many far superior to one which benefits only one?" Mallear replied in a voice as smooth as new cream.

There was a general murmer of agreement and a few 'here, here's' before a pair of double doors at the other side of the chamber opened and another minotaur walked purposefully through at the head of a line of humans, all bearing brass collars. They were an odd mix; one was nearly as tall as a minotaur himself, though not as massive, another was adult but the size of a child, yet another looked normal until he noticed that one eye was brown while the other was blue. Some seemed not to be unusual of body but rather of skill, such as a contortionist-acrobat youth who flipped and cartwheeled where the others walked and came to a halt smiling widely, arms folded before him, with his chest resting on the floor and long legs arching over his back to touch the toes of his feet on the ground before him.

"Hands off that one, he's mine." Said the jeweled minotaur without a wasted moment.

"Hah! Do you intend to sell him, I wonder, or keep him to yourself?" Said another.

"The thing's one could do with such flexibility..." Said one, who had remained silent until now, elliciting a rumble of laughter.

"Well, I shall leave you to your discussions, the servants will settle your orders as usual. Good day." Mallear rose from the divan and cut a seemingly leisurely pace for the doors where the new minotaur stood but Tathal could sense the supressed nervous energy running through his body. The newcomer had a pelt of the same rich hazel-brown as Mallear's own, and the similarities didn't end there; the shape of their horns, the structure of their faces, besides for the other being slightly heavier and broader of shoulder they looked very much alike. Mallear's face, when he glanced at his look-a-like was as impassive as his mask had ever been but it seemed forced somehow.

"Come with me, we have work." Mallear said, curtly. The hazel minotaur nodded and closed the doors behind them.

Mallear led the way through the curving corridors, as disorienting as the natural caves of the wolven den had ever been. Through wide, open archways along the way Tathal spied more human oddities; a young girl in a giant golden birdcage sang an impossibly sweet song while brushing out her shining hair; a group of men stood around a boiling cauldron, without warning one of them reached in quickly and pulled something shining out of the bottom without showing a hint of pain; in another room a boy was being told a series of numbers by an older man and responding automatically with another stream of mathematics; yet another chamber held some kind of circus school filled with all manner of jugglers and tumblers.

'Echidnans.' Tathal thought, instantly. 'This isn't a slave house, it's the barracks of an army.'

"M-Mallear, do you need funds for something? The wheel has made quite a profit since last you were here." Said the broad, hazel bull, expectantly.

"So Silk did not tell you any of the specifics of my visit?" Mallear said, not breaking stride for a moment. "Good, better to retain silence, no matter how low the chance of interception. No, I do not yet need my equipment replenished, we are approaching an important juncture in the great working, I need total security during this time."

"Security? But what could threaten you?" Said the other minotaur, incredulously.

Mallear stopped dead in his tracks and turned to the other. "There are certain forces loose on the land, I do not know if they are a threat to me, or even if they know of my existence, but they are forces I need my greatest weapons about me to guard against."

A pained expression flickered across the other's face for a moment before fading away into understanding. "So, they weren't all killed then." He said, it wasn't a question.

"It seems not, the descendants of the spymasters are truly worthy of their reputation to have eluded me all this time." Mallear said, bitterly. "Regardless, the time is too delicate to take any risks, and if it comes to it then you are one of the few resources I have capable of fighting on par with a ninja, the others I have brought with me." He added, indicating Tathal and the other Echidnans with a wave of his hand.

"These? You are sure they can fight with ninja?" Said the other minotaur, skeptically.

The remark irked Tathal like an insect bite, despite the creature's great size he felt a sudden but brief urge to swat the minotaur flat like a mosquito. The image made him chuckle under his breath but he brushed it aside, if Mallear considered this one an ally then he could forgive a few thoughtless slights.

"Quite certain, their skills are not as honed but they have certain talents that will foil the advantage posessed by even a Tempus grandmaster." Mallear replied. "They will not fail, trust me."

"Of course, I didn't mean to question your judgement," The other minotaur said, quickly.

"Stop, not again." Mallear warned, eyes narrowing angrily. He sighed in apparent frustration, though whether it was with the other minotaur or himself Tathal couldn't tell.

"I'm sorry, sometimes It just..." Came the sheepish reply, the minotaur gave an embarassed smile and trailed off into silence.

Mallear huffed and waved the matter away. "I know... anyway, this is Ravager," He continued. "My newest, possibly strongest. The rest I believe you are already familiar with."

"Yes, I know them, despite the changes."

"Good, Ravager?" Mallear turned his attention to Tathal.

"Master?"

"This is Abraxus," He laid a hand on the other minotaur's shoulder. "My brother."