I, Dacien

A Story by Onyx Tao

Copyright 2010

Released under the Creative Commons

Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike License

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Chapter Four:

Symphony

"I don't think this has been one of my best days," Kanail said as he closed the door to his house behind them. "At least we have the symphony to look forward to ..." He paused. "Or, at least I do. You, on the other having never been ..."

"I've heard good things about it," Dacien said, without adding, mainly from you. After all, some of them had been from Lord Doze.

"Well, we've got ..." he paused. "Some time. Fortunately. And I know a great way to put ... problems aside."

Dacien nodded. "And you mentioned dinner, I think."

"So I did, so I did ..." Kanail said. "This way," and the black-and-white minotaur set off. "You're not hungry now, are you? Well, it doesn't matter, you can get a snack where we're going ..."

"Where are we going?" asked Dacien as they moved through the twisted streets of the Lycaili maze. This was a new section of the city for Dacien, although it was making a lot more sense to him now than it had before. Part of that was just the increased familiarity, but another part, he'd realized, was yet another advantage of being a minotaur. He just seemed to know where he was now, in relation to everywhere else he'd been. So many things that minotaurs took for granted ... did they have any idea of what a human's experience of this city would be? He didn't think so ... just like they didn't understand so many other things. Chelm, for example, had no idea that Zebra didn't understand the patterns in his tattoos, or see the colors the way a minotaur would. Dacien had tried to explain it, and he'd thought that he'd gotten Chelm to understand about the colors, but the patterns ...

To a human, they just seemed random. To a minotaur - not. Much like these streets; they had confused him when Teodor had dragged him through them before, but now ... they made sense, at least what he knew of them. Or had they been so confusing? That was another strangeness, trying to remember how things had seemed to Dacien as a human, as opposed to how they seemed now. Things had been different, very different. And he'd been ... well. Docile. The way Zebra was, now, to him. He hadn't been that way before he'd come to Teodor, and he wasn't that way now so ... how much of that could be attributed to what the minotaurs so euphemistically called influence?

Kanail's voice dragged him back. "Are you hungry?"

"A little," Dacien said. "I can wait until dinner. But where are we going?"

"Jason's," said Kanail, as if that should mean something. "Teodor's taken you, right?"

"No," said Dacien.

"Where has ..." and then the grandmaster paused. "Let me guess. Nowhere. Lord Fog is infamous for being ... very, very private."

"We've been busy," Dacien said.

"Busy," repeated Kanail, dubiously.

"Yes, Grandmaster. Lord Fog is a council mage, and ... has many duties."

"That's true," the grandmaster sighed. "I'm sure he's at least as busy as Ruus or Ianthos. Still. Even if you were raised by ferals, that's just more reason to bring you out. And ... can you tell me just what Teodor meant by that?"

Yes, thought Dacien. I could. "I beg your forgiveness, Grandmaster, but I'd rather not discuss it."

"Interesting. This ... this has nothing to do with my brother, does it?"

"No ... no, I'm certain it doesn't."

"Interesting," Kanail said again.

Grandmaster Kanail and Dacien arrived, after a few twists and turns, in a narrow winding canyon. Kanail stopped at a large door in a wooden wall set into a cliff face. "Here," he said, swinging the door open. Dacien went through, into a small tunnel that opened into a larger grotto - not quite a cave. No, not a cave at all, Dacien realized. It had been carved to look like a cave, or perhaps what a minotaur would want a cave to look like. It was lit dimly with mage-lights,, colored blue and green and purple hidden in realistic-looking niches or behind strangely graceful stalactites or just under stubby stalagmites. The lights cast multicolored shadows over the room, and over the desk. Water trickled down one wall, filling the chamber with the muted sound of water.

"Sir," said a soft voice, and a human appeared from the shadow of the desk, and then corrected itself. "Excellency! Grandmaster! And Sir! Please, be welcome at our door in the name of my Master, Jason."

"Thank you, Clark. I am hoping my friend - Dacien - might join me. I know the reservation was for one ..."

The human nodded. "Yes, Excellency, Sir ... let me make sure ..." and he rustled through some papers for a moment. "Excellency? I'm afraid you're late, so ..."

"Unavoidable," Kanail said.

"Of course, Sir," the human said. "It's just that the reservation has a note that you've an appointment at sunset."

"And?"

"Excellency, you wanted a blanch, dye, pedicure, manicure, basil wash, and oiling in addition to your massage, and there won't be enough time before sunset."

Kanail snorted. "Well, isn't that a conundrum. How is it that a tempus master runs out of time?"

"Well, sir, the blanch in your case is tricky ..."

"I know," Kanail cut him off, with a wave of his hand. "Forget the blanch and dye. Could we get out ... say, a quarter to sunset?"

The human looked at him, and then back down at his desk. "I think so, Excellency, although ... it might be a little tight."

"Forget the oil."

"It's not the oil, Excellency, it's the massage. You have to soak for an hour before we can do it. If we could do a light massage?"

"I suppose," grunted Kanail, a little unhappily. "Would that leave enough time for the blanch?"

"I'm so sorry, Excellency," the human said. "I don't believe so." He smiled. "Although I don't think you need a blanch."

"Yes, well, by the time I look like I need one, it's too late," Kanail sighed. "Fine. No blanch, no dye. Light massage. For both of us?"

"Yes ..." Clark said. He looked at Dacien appraisingly. "Sir, what ... do you know what dye that is?"

"Dye?"

"It's not a dye," Kanail said. "Those are really marque roan."

"I've never seen ..." started Clark, and then his mouth snapped shut. "Forgive me, Sir," he said. "I ... I wasn't thinking."

"There is nothing to forgive," Dacien said, and Kanail shot him a strange glance. Maybe minotaurs didn't apologize to humans, or at least not formally. Dacien gave a mental sigh; there was a great deal to remember.

"Then ..."

"You need to get into the caldarium immediately, Excellency, Sir," Clark said, after a moment.

"Good. Oh. I suppose you'll want to start a tab for Dacien here, but put today on my bill, please."

"Yes, Excellence."

"I don't think ..." and Dacien paused. It didn't seem right to him to let Kanail pay, but ... did he have any money? It occurred to him that perhaps Teodor had sheltered him. No, not sheltered, kept him in ... the same bubble that Teodor stayed in. Money. He'd have to find out just how money worked, among minotaurs. Presumably, it was at least similar to the Imperial system, and they had coinage, suns, Teodor had mentioned. Did they have others? Why hadn't Teodor mentioned it?

Just asking the question supplied the answer. Teodor was a reclusive mage who preferred to be left alone, and had the authority to be so. Questions of money were undoubtedly handled by ... whom? Steward? Dacien was vaguely aware that there were a couple of minotaurs working for Teodor in Maze, maybe one of them did? Whatever minotaur commerce consisted of, Teodor was clearly not interested in it. And ...

How had he not seen it earlier? Anything that Teodor was disinterested in practically didn't exist for him. For all his wisdom and depth of thought, the mage was just ... oblivious. Anything that didn't somehow interest him, just ... vanished, taken care of, disappearing with a wave of the more prosaic magic of wealth and influence. Looked at that way, maybe Lord Green's immense frustration with Teodor was ... well, it was still irrational. Lord Green had his own issues, but Teodor ...

Teodor had them, too. It was a revelation. Somehow, when he'd been with Teodor, talking to him, working with him, studying with him ... he just hadn't noticed. Was it accidental? Mindbending? Only, thinking back to what Teodor had explained a skilled mindbender could do, it wasn't something that one could just wake up from, away from the mage. Mindbending was the permanent change of someone's mentality, memories, and thoughts - Teodor had called it butchery of the soul. And then gone on to explain that, sometimes, that sort of work was used to repair damaged minds, like a chirurgeon would cut away damage flesh. Teodor had admitted that he knew the rudiments of that work, but that he found it distressing. "It pains me to do," Teodor had said. "I am grateful there is little call for me to do it. I do not mind examining a mind; but to ... change it, that ... that is a terrible thing." Maybe it was just Teodor himself; his quiet intensity just made you overlook anything that Teodor overlooked. It wasn't real for Teodor, so somehow ... it became less real for everyone around him. And, of course, since he, Dacien, had so little experience with minotaurs to begin with, anything outside of Teodor's accustomed orbit barely existed anyway. Small wonder, then, that Dacien hadn't noticed the gaps.

"Dacien?" asked Kanail, apparently for a second time. "May I put this on my tab?"

"Yes," Dacien said, coming out of his thoughts. "That's very kind of you, thank you."

"It is very little," the grandmaster said dismissively.

Bowing attendants - male humans, unsurprisingly, took both of them into the washing chamber, where they were quickly and efficiently given a sudsy scrubbing, and thorough rinse. Another few steps took them into a larger cave - and Dacien thought this one might have been a real cave chamber once - with several pools. Four minotaurs lounged in the largest central pool, but he and Kanail were taken to a smaller one with a single blue-pelted occupant. It proved to be hot, even by minotaur standards, and Dacien's breath of surprise was answered by Kanail.

"We need to soak in the caldarium for at least ten minutes."

"It seems hot."

"The hot water makes our hooves easier to work," Kanail.

The blue minotaur looked up, shook his head, and sighed. "First time?"

"Yes," said Dacien.

"I might have been here once or twice," Kanail said.

"Is that so?" the other said.

"I'm taking the day off."'

"Well, so am I," the blue minotaur said. "It seemed like a good day for it." A brief smile flickered across his face. "Kanail, who's your friend? And ... are those real? I don't recall, no, I've never seen marque blanc on a roan."

"They're real," Dacien said.

"Unusual. Impressive, though."

"Briant, this Dacien. Dacien, Warlord Briant, of the Patriarch's Guard."

"No," corrected the blue minotaur. "I am not a member of the Patriarch's guard. I was, yesterday, but today, I am not. I am simply Briant."

"What?" The word came from a stunned Kanail.

Briant shrugged. "There's no point in keeping it a secret. I was thrown out of the Patriarch's guard."

"Why?" Kanail said. "That's ... forgive me. I'm sorry. But that's ... absurd! Why?"

"There is nothing to forgive, and as to why, I'd like to know myself," Briant sighed. "The Patriarch reassigned me to the Circle. Which is to say, removed me from his guard." The minotaur shook his head. "I won't pretend I'm not disappointed but ... well, there are other things to do. I'll resign tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow. I can't resign today," Briant said. "The Patriarch pointed out, correctly, that since I've been transferred, he is unable to accept my resignation. Since this guard is reporting to the Circle, I'll have to tender my resignation to the Master of Guard, and the Patriarch wouldn't tell me who that is. I imagine he is under the impression that I will change my mind by tomorrow."

"That seems ... strange."

The blue minotaur shrugged. "It's confused. Perhaps the Patriarch hadn't decided yet whom he wanted as Master of Guard. Whatever it is, I want no part of it. Guarding the Patriarch is ... worthwhile. Guarding the Circle chambers is ... well, I don't really see that they need that much protection. I appreciate that he didn't just dismiss me, but ... I think I would rather have been dismissed."

Dacien nodded. "I think I know something about that," he said, hesitantly, "but I don't know what I can say."

"Is that so?" Briant said, interested. "Then you shouldn't say anything, that would be my opinion."

"I agree," Kanail said. "But I do think I can introduce you."

"Didn't you do that?"

"Dacien is the son of Teodor Lord Fog, and has just become Lord Doze's apprentice," said Kanail.

The blue minotaur looked at Dacien with thoughtfully. "That is ... truly interesting," Briant said. "I didn't know Lord Fog had another son. Although I understand where that lovely roan comes from, now."

"It is impressive, isn't it," Kanail said. "I'm more curious about the white, actually."

Briant looked puzzled, and then shrugged again. "I suppose there are more white than roan minotaur."

"Many," said Kanail dryly. "But there is only one responsible."

"Kanail?" asked Dacien.

The white-and-black minotaur glanced over at him. "Perhaps we should move to some other topic."

"Yes," said Dacien.

"Well, I am interested in how Lord Fog could have a son without anyone knowing about it," Briant said.

"Some topic other than me," Dacien clarified.

"Yes, of course," Briant said. "I do beg your forgiveness."

"It's nothing," Dacien said.

"Well, I'll swallow my curiosity, then. Are you here for a massage?"

"Full treatment," said Kanail. "Although there won't be enough time for a massage."

"That's a shame," Briant observed. "Is that why Jason isn't here with you?"

"No," Kanail said. "He's meeting me later. At the symphony."

"You're taking Dacien?" Briant sounded puzzled.

"No," said Kanail. "He's going, though. With Lord Doze."

"Oh," said Briant, nodding. "That makes sense, of a sort, although ... one does wonder why Dacien is with you, now. It does cure me of any conceivable desire to go to the symphony tonight, though."

"Why?" asked Dacien.

Briant looked a little surprised, and then nodded. "Well, because I don't care to run into Lord Doze socially tonight, before I know just what's going on with this reassignment. He's supposed to be a good fellow, easier to get along with than ..." Briant stopped, and said, "others, but I can wait for tomorrow." He grinned. "Don't have much choice."

"No," Kanail agreed.

"And it looks like I leave you now ..." Briant said as one of the attendants came in with a huge towel.

"Sir?" The attendant said. "Are you ready for your session, Sir?"

"Very much," Briant said, standing up in the hot water, and making his way up the stairs. Even in the warm air of the caldarium, the thick blue pelt steamed as he used the towel not so much to dry himself as to push the water out. "Perhaps I'll see you later," he said, back to Kanail and Dacien.

"It's not impossible," Kanail answered.

"Good, good," and Briant casually gave the towel back to the attendant, and strode off, deeper into the complex. Dacien watched him go. He'd seen other minotaurs naked, of course, but ... Briant was just ... well ...

"You're staring," Kanail said, softly.

"Sorry," said Dacien, turning his head back. "I've ... never seen a blue minotaur before. It's ... I don't know, it just seems strange. Ian ... Lord Winter, was sort of the same."

"Blues are unusual," Kanail admitted. "But there are a lot of them in Lycaili, more ... Teodor really kept you cloistered, didn't he?"

"Not ... not exactly," Dacien said. "Effectively, I suppose, but ... he didn't have much choice. I know it seems strange, but it was ... it is, a strange sort of situation."

"Sure," said Kanail. "But if you want to discuss it with someone, Dacien, I'd listen."

"I ... I don't know what I can say," Dacien said.

"Well, that's ..." Kanail paused. "Things do tend to become strange around Teodor, if today was any example."

"Oh, yes," Dacien said fervently. "You have no idea."

They sat companionably in the hot water, letting it relax them, until Dacien pointed at an odd wooden contraption with heavy leather straps. "What ... what is that?" It looked like a crucifixion platform, on wheels, with leather ... ropes? Straps? And a ... handle with gears?

"That?" asked Kanail. "Oh, the winch. Think about it, if you tried to lift me out of the water as dead weight - if I couldn't help you - it would be hard, but you could do it. A human, however, couldn't. The winch is for them, if something happened to a minotaur, and they needed to lift us out of the water. Wouldn't take a human much longer than it would you to wrestle me out."

"Oh," said Dacien. "That doesn't sound likely."

"No, but it's not impossible for someone to pass out, and in the hot water, that would be dangerous. Might as well have the winch."

Dacien nodded, and about that time the same human came to tell them they were ready.

It didn't take long; Dacien's hooves were declared to be nearly perfect - just needing a little sanding - and the trim on his pelt and nails took much less time than he'd thought. Even the massage itself was quick.

"Too quick, really," grumbled Kanail, as they walked out of the massage room. "If Lord Fog hadn't taken so long at my house ..."

"You could have left," Dacien pointed out.

"Not knowing what he'd found out? No," Kanail said softly. "No I could not."

"I can promise you that my ... that Lord Fog made a very large hole in his day to do that," Dacien said, a little miffed. "I know he seems ... remote, and ... and uncaring."

"He does," agreed Kanail.

"He's not," Dacien said. "There's nobody, absolutely nobody, who cares more than he does. And there's nobody who cares more about, Dapple, either. As much, I'll grant you that, but more? Nobody. Nobody."

"Hmm," said Kanail, as they went back through the tunnel into the bathing room. "I ... want to believe you. We have enough time for a short soak," he said, changing the subject. "No, no, not the hot water." Kanail gestured over to the other, larger pool. "That's the warm water. If we had more time I could do a hot soak and a cold plunge ..." he said, looking regretfully at the tiny little pool.

"Cold?"

"Yes," said Kanail. "In fact ..." the minotaur walked over to the small pool and strode right down the stairs, until all but his head was covered. He stayed in for only a few seconds, coming back out and then heading directly for the large pool. He got in quickly, and sighed. "That's nice. You should try it. Although the cold plunge isn't to everyone's taste."

It was ... different, Dacien decided. Certainly it produced an intense chill - although nowhere near what he remembered as fully human, and then the hot waters were that much hotter. Kanail moved back and forth between the chill and heat. Dacien discovered that after a few transits, he felt ... not tired, but relaxed in the way he was relaxed after several hours of swordwork, or a day spent marching. It wasn't a lack of energy, though, but more a lack of desire to move.

The massage that followed amazed him. Three men worked on him, and another three on Kanail, on pair of low tables set next to each other in a small grotto lined with ferns, and smelling of earth. Their efforts, after the hot soak, left him almost dazed. The simple act of moving off the table, and just rinsing the herbed lotion from his pelt seemed like too much effort. After a minute or three, though, Kanail sighed, and pushed himself up off the table. "How was your first massage? Real massage?"

"This was great," Dacien said, reluctantly getting up himself. "But I've had massages before."

"Is that so? I thought ..." and Kanail paused. "Well, Lord Fog warned me you were ... no, that you came from a strange situation. I suppose it's even stranger than I thought."

"Yes," Dacien said. "I think it probably is."

"But you can't talk about it?"

"I ... best not. It's ... it's complex. I'd be explaining things for hours, and I'm not even sure what I can talk about and what I can't." Dacien said. "I imagine it will all be revealed, eventually."

That earned him another puzzled look, but the other minotaur just nodded his head. "I'm sure it will be interesting."

"Oh, that's another safe bet," Dacien said. "Did you say something about something to eat?"

"Oh, yes. But we need to dress first," Kanail said, and turned to the attendant. "We will need assistance dressing."

Dacien wondered at that, but he had to admit that it was a lot easier to don the elaborate clothes with help. He was just putting back on the elaborately decorated gray robes he'd worn at the morning's ceremony, but Kanail had more to deal with. Kanail was a spectrum of blues; midnight indigo boots that faded to a softer twilight blue at their tops, merging into merely deep blue trousers, fastened with a belt a shade lighter. His tunic and vest were sky-blue, the tunic embroidered with glittering blue sapphire thread, and the tunic buttoned with what Dacien hoped was merely blue glass - but was probably sharply-cut sapphire. Silver bracelets set with yet more sapphires went on his wrists, and a heavy silver chain set with sapphires went over that. A gold and emerald brooch fastened at the neck, as contrast, and a dark indigo half-cloak was tied loosely over that.

Kanail nodded approvingly as he looked into mirror. "And now, something to eat."

Something to eat turned out to be a strange kind of combination dining room and store, something like a tavern, but, like most things minotaur, different. The store didn't have rooms for travelers, and although it served wine and beer, that was just part of its real business - selling meals, like a great feast hosted by a senator, with less variety. But the point of the business wasn't to impress or overwhelm with a lavish display of food, but just to sell ... the experience, Dacien supposed, of a talented chef without having to hire or buy one and equip a huge kitchen. They were served by polite, self-effacing slaves - three human slaves, two women and a man seemed to keep the room busy and there were more in the kitchen, and at least one minotaur, either as overseer or chef, or perhaps a little of both. The kitchen was busy, serving an intermittent stream of minotaurs who came in and sat at one of the neat little tables. The settings were simpler than the ones that adorned Teodor's dining table; instead of nested translucent porcelain with subtly painted designs, there was only a single small white-glazed ceramic plate. The human servers brought the elaborate minotaur cutlery as needed - the tined fork, the over-large spoon for soup, depending on what the diners requested from the kitchen. Kanail motioned one of them - the man - over. The man started to explain what the Master of Cuisine was preparing, but Kanail waved him quiet, and asked for soup and pie for three, cheeses, and white beer.

He and Kanail were joined by Kanail's - Dacien still wasn't sure what the right term was, but Jason, the minotaur in question, was smaller than either Dacien or Kanail, with an off-white pelt. Jason was garbed in scarlet and carmine, heavy blood-red leather ankle wrappings that seemed to serve minotaurs as sandals. Bright carmine trousers and belt, almost-matched tunic and vest, with a silver and sapphire brooch. Dacien expected to see rubies for a moment, but the only jewelry he wore were thin gold bracelets, and several loose loops of heavy gold chain which Dacien realized was a single chain, looped around his neck several times. Jason had greeted Dacien with a certain wariness that evaporated after Kanail introduced him as Lord Fog's son and explained that he had agreed to take Dacien to Lord Doze.

"So we're still going ..."

"Yes, we'll meet Sasha there. Lord Doze," Kanail said. "Although he did offer to host us in his box, if ..."

Jason shook his head. "No, I don't want to sleep through the performance."

Kanail nodded. "Agreed. But I thought I should mention it. He'll repeat the offer."

"Is his signature that strong?" asked Dacien. "I thought he just made ... you sleepy."

Jason shrugged. "It affects different persons differently."

"Which is to say it hits Jason hard," Kanail said.

The red-garbed minotaur looked away for a moment. "It does."

"I see," Dacien said, after rejecting a more sympathetic response as possibly being insulting.

"Happens," Kanail said.

The human slid a platter heavy with slices of cheese, olives, and dried apricots onto the table. "Sirs," he said. "I'll bring your beer now? May I bring anything else?"

"Our dinner, as soon as it's ready," said Jason.

"Just as soon as it comes out," the server promised, and he hurried away only to return with three large glass mugs, full of the palest beer Dacien had ever seen. If it weren't for the foamy head, he'd have thought it was water - that, and the faintest tinge of brown. "Beer?" Dacien asked dubiously.

Kanail took a long drink of his. "S'good. Try it."

The almost-clear liquid tasted of hops and ... something else, something he couldn't quite name. It was good, though, and that flavor was like ... Dacien couldn't place it. Sharp, slightly acrid, but evanescent; it vanished almost as soon as he swallowed. "It is good, it's ... different. Not what I'm used to."

This time it was both Jason and Kanail who looked at him strangely. "Uh ... Lord Fog doesn't really go in for beer, that much."

Jason's eyes flickered over to Kanail. "No? One hears ... so little about him. I don't think I've ever met him, actually."

Dacien just smiled, and ate a dried apricot. "These are good," he said, adding a slice of cheese to it.

"So," Jason said. "I know what kept me, but ... I understand you were late, too."

"Yes," said Kanail. "Council business. You know that I will be leaving tomorrow?"

"I'd heard," Jason said. "I don't understand why."

Kanail nodded apologetically. "I am sorry, love, but it's all Council business. I can't talk about it any more than you can."

Jason sighed. "I know. I just hate that ..." he paused, smiled at Dacien. "Sorry. This must be dull."

"No," said Dacien. "Not at all. I've been living with Lord Fog for ... quite some time, and a lot of this is totally new to me."

"The beer," Jason said. "Is Lord Fog really so ΕγκÏατής?"

ΕγκÏατής? Not for the first time, Dacien found himself confronted with a new Greek word. With Teodor, Dacien would just ask ... but here ... Dacien looked at Kanail for a moment, but he just looked curiously expectant.

"ΕγκÏατής?" asked Dacien. "What would that be in Latin?"

Jason and Kanail exchanged a surprised look, and then Kanail said, "Refraining, self-limiting, from alcohol."

"Abstemious?"

"I suppose ..." Kanail said. "Your Latin is ..."

"Better than my Greek, actually, yes," Dacien admitted. "It's ..."

"Part of that complicated thing you didn't want to discuss," Kanail said firmly. "Yes, of course. Perhaps we could discuss music ... Ah! " A steaming meat pie slid in front of Jason, and then Dacien, and finally Kanail as they were served.

"More beer, Sirs?"

"Yes," Jason said. "For all of us." He looked over at Kanail. "And maybe something stronger?"

"No," said Kanail. "Not before the symphony."

The sky was just turning from deep blue to black as the three of them came to the symphony hall - Lycail Ourobouros Hall, in elegant ten foot letters stretched atop of an elaborate frieze worked into the canyon face. Magelights glittered along the walls, and along the row of doors leading into the hall. The steps were shallow, and column of canyon wall rock jutted out from between each set doors. Already, minotaurs were arriving, on foot, and Dacien understood exactly why Kanail had asked about clothes. Dacien had been among minotaurs long enough to understand just what the difference between casual and formal meant to minotaurs, although even minotaur casual seemed formal to him. Tonight was clearly about formality. Chains, heavy necklaces of gold and silver, a rainbow of colors and embroidery dazzled the eye. Any number of the minotaurs even had their horns decorated; wrapped with jewel-toned ribbons of sapphire or green, tipped with beaten gold and silver caps, even chains of gold, as fine and light as the ornaments worn across cloaks and tunics and robes were heavy.

The entry hall itself dripped with heavy swags of satin, cobalt blue interspersed with a deep emerald green and bright, almost bloody red. Polished spheres of crystal the size of Dacien's fist glowed with magelight, up and down the entire length of the huge chamber, providing a steady cool light. Human servants - slaves, Dacien remembered quickly, humans were slaves, even if that didn't seem to mean the same thing to a minotaur as it did to a human. The humans, mostly men but a couple of females, all clad in clean soft blue tunics, carried trays heavy with food, with glasses filled with pale yellow wine, and empty trays, quietly taking empty glasses from the edges of stone columns, or thin marble tables against the wall, or wherever a minotaur had set one down.

"Lord Doze should be here ..." Kanail said, glancing over the crowd. "He likes the gathering ..."

"He does?"

"Yes," Jason said. "We're a little late ... could he have gone to his box?"

"Maybe," Kanail said dubiously. "But ..."

"There," Jason said, waving his hand over towards a large statue of ... Dacien blinked, but it was still there, a winged minotaur holding a set of scales in one hand, and a hoe, raised above his head. And there, a little to the side, dressed in shimmering blue-green silk that seemed to change color, blue to green to blue again as he moved, was Sasha, Lord Doze. The mage looked small next to the huge ebon minotaur next to him, wearing the thin leathers preferred by minotaur warriors instead of rich finery, and of course the warhammer on his back, even more that his guarded stance, made it clear he was on duty.

"Good," said Kanail. "May we escort you to Lord Doze, Mage Dacien?"

Formality, it meant something, but Dacien wasn't quite sure what. Some subtle shift, from friends to an acknowledgment that he, Dacien, was in the care of Kanail, somehow. It was complicated, horribly so. Teodor had tried to explain it from time to time and ... the more he tried, the more Dacien was certain it was something you had to grow up with. Maybe in a few years it would start to make more sense. "Yes, please, Grandmaster, that would be welcome."

"Lord Doze, Warlord Trevon," Kanail said, as they approached. Lord Doze was talking cheerfully with a larger brown minotaur dressed in crimson and gold. "Pardon our interruption."

"Ah, Grandmaster, excellent, excellent, Dacien, excellent," Lord Doze said, turning to them with a smile. His clothes shimmered green and blue and back as he moved. "And Warrior Jason. Marvelous to see you. I'd wondered for whom the Grandmaster had declined my box, and now I understand entirely."

"Lord Doze," Jason said.

"Sasha, please, we are all here to enjoy music, are we not?" the mage said.

"Sasha, then," Jason answered. "Yes. Those of us not otherwise engaged."

The mage's eyes flickered to Trevon. "Our Master feels we should not wander unattended, and it is our honor and pleasure to obey."

"Indeed," Kanail said. "And so I return Mage Dacien to your care, Lord Doze."

"Sasha, please," the mage said again. "And so he is here. I trust you had ..." the small minotaur paused. "... took some ... value from the day?"

"Quite a bit. I'm sure your brother will have much to tell you."

"Indeed," and Sasha had now lost his smile. "I will consult with him at my earliest opportunity."

"And Jason and I must find our seats," Kanail said.

"Are the doors open? So soon?" asked Sasha. "I didn't hear the bell."

"There is at least a quarter candle to the start. I don't know that they've rung it yet."

"Ah. Then I bid you a pleasant evening."

"And we, you, My Lord Doze." Kanail said.

At that, a large midnight-blue minotaur, dressed in a silver robe trimmed with sky blue lace turned to face them, holding a nearly empty glass of the pale yellow wine in one hand. He casually handed the glass to a young man, and said, to Sasha, "Pardon me, but ... you do fit the description I was given of Lord Doze. Might it be that you are he?"

"Yes," said Sasha, looking up at the minotaur, who was even larger than Trevon. "Although I cannot imagine why anyone would be collecting descriptions of me."

"It was in my briefing-papers, Lord Doze. May I presume to introduce myself?"

"Briefing papers? You are an emissary, then?"

"I am, and if I could introduce myself, you would know everything."

The mage laughed. "If only that were true. But yes, of course, sir, please do so, and before you do, may I make known to you my apprentice, Mage Dacien, and my dear friend Grandmaster Trevon, and, although you have exactly guessed my identity, myself, Sasha Lord Doze."

The deep blue minotaur looked startled, and then bowed. "You are more gracious, or perhaps I should say even more gracious, than my briefings suggested. I am Corrigan, Warlord Ungoliant, and appointed Ambassador Plenipotentiary to Lycaili and Ouroborous by warrant of Patriarch Ungoliant. I arrived rather late today - too late, apparently, for it to be entirely convenient for me to present myself to Lord Cresphontes."

"Well, then, may I bid you welcome to Lycaili, Ambassador!" Sasha said. "I'm pleased, most pleased, to meet you."

"I had wondered if perhaps we could talk. I have a box."

"Ah! As do I!" Sasha said. "And I would be delighted to talk to a fellow lover of music!"

"Music ... yes, I would welcome a discussion of music, we could touch on that."

Sasha shook his head. "My Lord Ambassador ..."

"Corrigan, please."

"My Lord Ambassador," Sasha said again. "I do not wish to speak of business. You must consult Ianthos - Lord Winter - who is Council person most responsible. I have no authority to speak with you on anything substantive."

"I did call on Lord Winter," Corrigan said. "I learned he is to set out on a most urgent matter, and that he waits on nothing but readiness in his preparations to leave. I was referred to Lord Fog."

"And so ..."

"Lord Fog cannot be found," Corrigan said. "If I did not know Lord Winter would never play such a cruel trick on me, I might think I was sent out for a bucket of holes."

"He would not do such a thing; Lord Fog is also ..." Sasha paused. "And you have me talking business, shame on you, Ambassador! I do assure you Lord Fog has his own pressing business, and it may well be that Lord Winter's thoughts were so on his own project that Lord Fog's needs were driven from consideration."

"I did find it odd that I should be referred to Lord Fog. I am told he is something of an eccentric and recluse, more concerned with matters ... abstruse than practical."

Sasha lifted his shoulders, and dropped them. "I have always found his company calming, his conversation enlightening, and his advice invaluable. You could do much worse than spend an evening in his company."

"And I have heard that, too," the blue minotaur said. "And I have heard that he and Lord Green have made a remarkable breakthrough in magic."

Sasha looked puzzled. "You have? They have, by themselves, made many contributions to the sum total of magic and technique, but never, to my mind, together. I doubt it is any kind of secret that we spend some little effort to keep them apart."

"No, but still, and I speak not of magery, but magic, the magician's art."

"Lord Fog is no magician, although Lord Green is well-versed," Sasha said, still sounding confused.

"And may I congratulate your council on adding two apprentices, in such a short time," Corrigan said. "It must be reassuring. To have such promising talent, I mean."

"Two?"

"Mage Dacien, Teodor's son, about whom I have heard ..." Corrigan gave Dacien a polite bow, "... so very little."

"Yes, but ..."

"And Chelm, about whom I have considerably more information, also Teodor's son."

"Is that so" Sasha asked. "How remarkable!"

"Still, accept my congratulations. Mage-gift seems so hard to come by these days."

"It runs in families," Sasha said.

"It would seem to run in Teodor's, certainly," Corrigan said.

"Then, in as much as I can, I accept your congratulations on these far-off and yet looked-for events," Sasha said lightly.

"Might I invite you to share my box tonight?"

"I have Box Five," Sasha said. "You?"

"Box Eighteen," Corrigan said.

"Then perhaps you could share mine? It is merely myself, Dacien, and, of course, Trevon." Sasha looked about. "And your guard ... although I do not see one ..."

"He is checking the box," Corrigan said.

"Then there would be nobody in the box?"

"No, but ..."

"Might I offer it to someone, then? My friend Kanail? And then, perhaps, I could ask him to pass on the message that you will be in Box Five?"

Corrigan paused. "Yes."

"A moment," Sasha said, and Dacien felt the soft languorous pull of Sasha's magic.

"What ..."

"A moment," Sasha repeated, holding up a hand. "Please."

Corrigan and Dacien yawned, and a moment later, Sasha grimaced, and looked back at Corrigan. "I'm afraid Kanail does not think a guard would, could, or should take the say-so of an unknown minotaur."

"He is undoubtedly right. The phrase ‘sunset and the red-quartered moon' will verify the message."

"I will relay it," Sasha said, and a moment later, "He will let your guard know. What is his name?"

"Tholomew, Warlord Tholomew."

"And ..." Sasha said, "done. Kanail will relay our message." The last word was interrupted by a three-toned chime. "Ah. Five minutes. After you, My Lord Ambassador."

"I confess, this is my first time here, and although I know the way to my box ..."

"Up these steps," Sasha said, and Corrigan gave a half-bow, and started up.

"Master?" asked Dacien.

"Yes?"

"Why are we in your box, rather than ..."

"Ah. There are four tiers of boxes, forty boxes, and my box is on the lowest tier, towards the center," Sasha said. "The middle boxes are One and Two, odd numbers off to the left - our left, as we enter, even to the right. So my box is both closer to the orchestra, and better situated to see the performers, than box Eighteen, on the second tier and far off to the side." He turned and smiled at Dacien. "Although the sound is just as good. Of course."

"Of course," Dacien said. Numbers and arrows directed them, and the door to Box Five was already open.

"Excuse me," a deep rumble said, and Dacien was momentarily surprised as Trevon whisked ahead of them, into the box. "I take it this warrior is known to you?"

Warrior was obvious from his garb. Like Trevon, he wore thin leathers, although his were creamy ivory rather than the deep blue of Trevon's, and he carried a pair of short swords in twin scabbards at his waist. Unlike Trevon, he was glistening white, instead of Trevon's midnight shimmer.

"Warlord Tholomew," Corrigan said. "My assistant and guard."

Trevon nodded, and moved back, out of the way. "I beg your forgiveness, but it is my duty."

"It is your duty, and there is nothing to forgive," Corrigan said, sounding as if he meant it. Sasha politely gestured for Corrigan to go in first, and then Dacien followed Sasha in, finding that Corrigan had taken one of the back seats. Sasha took one in front.

"Sit here, please," said Sasha, indicating the seat next to him.

"Trevon ..." started Dacien, and then paused. The ‘box' was a small room, a sort of balcony. A thin gauze curtain did little to obscure the view an ocean of upholstered chairs, something like a cross between an auditorium and a sitting room. Magelights lit the huge space - frosted glassy globes of white, blue, green, and red set in elaborate holders, silvered to cast more light out into the huge space, all along the wall as well as suspended on thin chains from the ceiling. No two globes seemed to be quite the same color, but the steady light they shed blended together into a cool, if dim, illumination. The box was facing - almost facing - a stage with a huge tapestry - an impossibly huge curtain, or at least impossible by human standards. More boxes faced the stage, along the sides of the room. In some of them, more minotaurs sat, quietly conversing, while others were completely obscured by the same sort of curtain that this room had.

Sasha reached forward and pulled the curtain over to one side. "Trevon prefers to stand, I believe."

"I do, My Lord."

"Have you had the pleasure of attending ... no, you said you haven't been here before," Sasha said.

"I was told it was not to be missed."

Sasha nodded. "I am of that opinion, personally."

Corrigan settled back into his seat, and then leaned forward. "Are there ... humans ... in the orchestra?"

"Several."

The Ungoliant ambassador drew a breath, and was silent, and Dacien listened to the odd noises coming from the orchestra. "Is this ... music? It's ..." and stopped at Sasha's flummoxed expression. "Sir?"

"No," Sasha said, his eyes flickering to Corrigan and the Ungoliant warlord. "The orchestra is warming up, preparing themselves and their instruments, making sure all is in tune."

"So it's your apprentice's first time as well?"

"It is," Sasha said.

"I had thought that Dacien was apprenticed to Lord Fog."

"Having a father mentor to his own son seemed inauspicious to the Council," Sasha said.

"And this is your first apprentice, is he not?"

"You are, as I would expect, well-informed, Ambassador."

"Might I inquire as to his talents?"

"They are not entirely clear yet," Sasha said. "It is very early in Dacien's training."

"One has heard rumors," Corrigan said.

"And you would like me to deny these rumors?"

"Or confirm them, if, as so often happens, rumors are accurate."

"I suppose it depends on the rumors," Sasha said. "I will not comment on Dacien, nor Council business, nor even matters of policy. If you'd like to discuss the music, I am at your service."

"I am given to understand that Teodor's other son - Chelm - will become a mage," Corrigan said.

"It would be unusual, for a mage to sire two sons, and both be mages," Sasha said.

"Unusual? Unheard of," said Corrigan. "An impossibility."

"Then you may dismiss it."

"So you are denying it?"

"If, as you say, the thing is impossible, then you may dismiss it."

"And it were possible?"

"It still seems unusual and unlikely," said Sasha.

"Unless someone ... a master magician, say, perhaps with some brilliant innovation from ... someone ... had an epiphany and developed a ritual to bring on magehood."

"Well, I suppose that would make it likelier. I presume you would have Lord Green and Lord Fog in those roles?"

"It seems likely," Corrigan said. "Such a ritual would give an overwhelming advantage to whatever clan possessed it."

"If magic were permissible in war, which it is not, then I suppose it might, but since magic is forbidden, I would expect it to have no impact," said Sasha. "None. Unless, of course, someone foolishly empowered dishonorable bulls."

"So there is such a ritual," said Corrigan.

"Council business, and I cannot confirm that, or deny that. Apply to Lord Chimes, Ambassador. Not me."

"It would shift economic balances. Trade balances. Political favors." The black minotaur leaned over the smaller brown. "It would be extremely disruptive, Lord Doze. A matter of great import."

"Would it?" said Sasha. "Then I am sure Lord Chimes will treat the matter with as much attention and interest as you could hope. I regret, My Lord Ambassador, that I may not. Indeed, if the matter is so critical I would urge you to seek out Lord Chimes immediately. Your papers would get you access to him as soon as a messenger could reach him. Or you may take it up with Lord Cresphontes - you would see him at his very earliest convenience."

"I have an appointment tomorrow," Corrigan said softly. "But the matter is ... most urgent, Lord Doze. I don't think you appreciate how urgent."

"Should you wish, I can accompany you to Lord Chimes instantly, even though I will miss ..." he broke off as a large roan minotaur dressed in a deep green robe walked out onto the stage, and bowed. The soft murmur of conversation quieted, and vanished. A shimmering gold chain swung gently, loosely wrapped around his horns. He held up his hands.

"Thank you. Tonight's performance begins with the debut of a composition by Learned Quentin, Fantasy in B Minor. Then, from the Delphos Archive, we will present Grand Canyon Suite followed by The Wandering Stars, and that will conclude the evening." The minotaur bowed again, and the huge green tapestry - curtain, it was a curtain, after all, drew up and vanished. Behind the minotaur, arrayed on stage in a vast half-circle were yet more minotaurs, and a number of humans, all dressed in the exact same deep green. They had instruments of every conceivable sort. Some Dacien recognized, or at least understood. There were two harps, although both were much larger than the lap harps he was familiar with. The largest was big even for the minotaur sitting behind it - and Dacien realized that the minotaur's pelt was a soft green, that faded into the darker green of his clothing. The other was about two-thirds that size, and there was a human sitting behind that one.

More minotaurs, with a sprinkling of humans, sat with oddly curved wood instruments, like strangely shaped lira, swollen at the base, narrowing, and then spreading out again. All of them had long instrumental bows. Yet more minotaurs had shiny silver horns, twisted into strange shapes with keys and valves. Two humans were almost looked like they were imprisoned by the huge horn that was twisted around them, with the end of the horn almost as large as a minotaur's head. Drums, Dacien recognized, but what were the metal disks, pounded into a convex shape? Or the rack of different-sized bells? At least he recognized the bells, he thought.

"What are those ..." he whispered softly to Lord Doze.

"Instruments," Sasha murmured back. "Almost all reconstructed from archive drawings. I'm sure they aren't what the creators had, but ..."

"Creators? What did they have to do with this?"

"They left us music," Sasha said. "A tremendous amount, all ..." he paused, "Later, Dacien." The minotaur on stage had produced - from somewhere - a long baton, and had raised it.

And the music started.

The minotaur was using the entire group of musicians, Dacien, realized, as one giant instrument. He listened, entranced and amazed, as the melody moved and changed and flowed from instrument to instrument - no, from sets of instruments to sets of instruments - different set, and the sound was ... indescribable. It surrounded him, it was ... was ...

It came to an end all too soon, and the audience surged upright, applauding loudly. Sasha took a satisfied breath, and rose as well.

"I am ... that was ..." Corrigan said. "Yes. Astounding. You were right; I have never heard anything like that. It was clearly worth the effort you made." Dacien could barely hear him over the crowd.

"Thank you for bringing me, Master," Dacien said. "I don't ... I didn't know what I missing. This was ... astounding. I have to agree with the Ambassador."

Sasha nodded. After a bit, the noise starting subsiding, Sasha sat back down. "As I was saying, the creators left us ... things. Records, papers, most of it mysterious and ... we have no idea what it is or means or meant, other than it was important to them. They left diagrams and notes - which a scholar, Learned Emmett, realized were musical instruments, and music to play on them. Emmett was Lycaili, I might add. He built some prototype instruments, and began to decipher the music. It wasn't easy; the creators did not leave us easy music. And I've no doubt we have some things wrong, or at least other than the creators expected."

"That doesn't seem to detract from the experience," Corrigan said. "Perhaps your version is better."

"What we just heard was composed by Lycaili's Master of Music. We will hear creator compositions next." Sasha said. "I don't understand how we lost the understanding of the Archive. The music library is a fraction of the records there, and there's so much that is ... impenetrable. Things the creators did not want to lose, that they valued enough to commit to the Archive, and mean ... nothing."

"Until we understand them. Perhaps they are a challenge to us, to reward us for seeking."

Sasha shook his head. "That is one possibility, among thousands."

"I don't agree," Corrigan began, as the minotaur raised his baton again, and silence once again swept over the audience.

The next music was entirely different, and just as incredible, and the audience reaction was similarly enthusiastic. But neither of the those two - however mind-boggling they were - could have prepared Dacien for the third. It started heavy, overwhelming, even threatening. The next was peaceful, and then joyous, and then mysterious, in a progression as ineffable as the music itself. It closed not with instruments, but with a sung chorus, just notes, fading away like the experience itself.

Dacien found himself staring at Sasha, who was just looking dreamily towards the stage - not seeing anything, he thought, just savoring the experience of the music. The Ungoliant Ambassador stood slowly, and then bowed deeply to Sasha. "I am in your debt, My Lord Doze. I came here only to speak with you, and thought nothing of this ... symphony. You have opened my eyes to a beauty I never knew - dreamed - existed. I will save my persuasion for Lords Chimes and Cresphontes. My Lord."

The smaller brown minotaur nodded. "I attend as often as I may. I would be pleased to see you again, here."

Corrigan bowed again, and left, preceded by Tholomew.

Sasha watched them go with a satisfied look. "And now, my dear apprentice," Sasha said lightly, "you've been to the symphony. I hope it didn't disappoint you too much."

"It was wonderful, Master," Dacien said. "I never imagined anything could be like that."

"I'm glad you liked it. Hold a moment, please." The small minotaur pulled a piece of soft paper from his robe, and a gray stick - and began writing something. A moment later, he passed it to Trevon. "That must go to Lord Chimes. Let nothing stay your messenger."

"Yes, My Lord."

"What ..."

"Council business, Apprentice," Sasha said quellingly.

"I beg your forgiveness, Master."

"Whatever for?" said Sasha. "I can't imagine any question that you could ask that might be improper. I may not be able to answer them, but you have every right to ask. In fact, I order you to ask any questions you might have." There was a split second of grin on the mage's face.

"What's a ritual?"

"Ritual ... oh." Sasha tilted his head oddly. "Didn't Te ... obviously he didn't, or you wouldn't ask. Strange. Let me see ... magic is done is by mages, rituals are done by magicians. Any bull can learn to be a magician, and so practice a sort of magic. It's nowhere near as flexible or straightforward as what a mage can do, however. A spell that might take me a few seconds would take hours of ritual - precisely done ritual, at that. The slightest error will ruin a ritual, and then there's nothing but to start over." Sasha stood, and continued talking softly as they threaded their way through the crowd of minotaur. "New rituals can be developed from the ritual elements, so in theory, a magician, a truly accomplished one, can do everything and anything a mage can. In practice, rituals that take over five hours tend not to work - it's just too hard to do them correctly. Some rituals are more ... forgiving, I suppose, than others, and so tend to be easier to accomplish. Interest in ritual magic has grown, over the last century or so ... probably because ... you should know why."

"I ... yes, Master," Dacien said. Obviously. Fewer mages.

The night air was cool, almost cold, and pleasantly fresh after the auditorium. Trevon was joined by another couple of bulls, and one of them took off running in one direction while the rest of them headed off in another.

"My home isn't far. It's nothing grand like Mistingrise, nor House Wide, but it's nice enough for me," Sasha said quietly. "There's a guest suite below mine, it's got a sitting room and an office, it should do for you. There isn't a practice ring, though - my guards train at the Obelisk."

"What is the Obelisk?"

"Oh, it's a ... gymnasium, near the center of town. It's open to warriors and ... would-be warriors, those not yet accepted to college. There are a number of armsmasters and tempus masters who give lessons, you can get whatever sort of training you want there," Sasha said. "If Trevon isn't qualified to teach something, then I'll accept the cost of whatever training any of my household wants. You're included in that, of course."

"Thank you," Dacien said.

"Any master would provide that," Sasha said, and then paused. "Or didn't Teodor tell ... of course he didn't."

"No," Dacien said.

"Then it's a good thing you're being exposed to more bulls than just Teodor," Sasha said, sounding exasperated. "The creators only know what other things he's neglected to tell you."

"I think he was trying to keep me from being overwhelmed. It's ... it's a lot to take in."

"You underestimate yourself," the mage growled. "And so does he. You can deal with this, Dacien. If you can deal with ... and you can, and have, then the rest of it will be simple."

"I suppose so."

They walked along in silence, through the winding streets for another few minutes, until Dacien heard a familiar mental voice.

Sasha? May I have a moment of your time?

"Certainly."

What can I do for you?

"I met Corrigan Ungoliant tonight."

An Ungoliant ambassador, yes, I know.

"Plenipotentiary ambassador," Sasha said. "To Ourobouros and Lycaili."

Plenipotentiary ... well, at least they've sent someone with authority.

"He believes Lord Green has, in conjunction with Lord Fog, developed a ritual to empower mages."

Excellent!

"Excellent? No, Ruus, it's terrible. It means something has leaked, probably to Ourobouros, and rumors are flying. It means trouble."

How so?

"If everyone suddenly thinks we've got that secret, we can expect a sudden influx of ambassadors. Do you know if Lord Corrigan is a magician of any sort?

I've got a report on him here. Let me see ... yes, he is. A master magician.

"Do you still say this is excellent?"

That might have been premature. What did you tell him?

"Nothing. I'm the council clown, after all. I know nothing, have no interest in policy, and can barely manage my own affairs, much less those of Lycaili."

I doubt he'd believe it.

"You'd be surprised how often it works," Sasha said. "Even Xavien believes it, sometimes."

I see. I'll apprise the Patriarch.

"And I need more security. If Chelm and Dacien were the beneficiaries of this ritual,"

Then they might know something about it, yes. But you're going to be taking them out of Lycaili, and that's a well-kept secret. Nobody knows.

"Nobody knows yet," corrected Sasha. "And I am thinking of your excellent reconnaissance reports."

What about them?

"Shouldn't they reflect what others know about us, at a minimum?"

There was a long pause, and then, Truth. Very well, Sasha. But what do you want me to do?

"There, I don't know that I can help," the mage admitted. "I don't think I have any ideas there. Except maybe to suggest I'm taking Dacien and Chelm to Ourobouros."

Why would you do that?

"A good question. Think of something."

I see the point. I'll see what we can do. In the meantime, travel as quietly as you can.

"With a small army around me? Quietly? I'll do ... what I can."

Should we cancel the trip?

The minotaur sighed. "I ... no. We need to do this."

I will so inform Cresphontes.