FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Cold Blood - the Sound of Silence

by Onyx Tao

This story is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution Noncommercial Share Alike 3.0 License

Dacien woke in the morning, curled against the minotaur, feeling very peaceful. It was as if the past six days hadn't happened, or perhaps more that they had happened to someone else. Teodor was still asleep, and--not snoring, but breathing out did make a low rhythmic thrum. The minotaur's arms were still wrapped around Dacien, holding him even in sleep. The night's surprising course flashed back, and he realized that he'd never been treated like this. Even as an officer, he wouldn't ? couldn't--expect the kind of care Teodor had given him. It wasn't even that the minotaur was aware of it; it was simply the least the minotaur could do. Well, perhaps a little more than the least, but ... he couldn't see Teodor doing much less, really. Even--perhaps especially--for a slave. In the Empire, as a defeated opponent, he'd have been enslaved, too, but he certainly wouldn't have a mage-healer, nor sleep on a sheeted bed, much less silk sheets. He doubted he'd escape branding, and maybe he'd have a day or two to recover, in a straw-filled cell, before he was set to work in a field or mine. Maybe ...

Teodor woke slowly; he blinked his eyes open, saw Dacien there, and his muzzle twisted briefly. "Good morning," the minotaur said, softly. His eyes flicked to the light coming in through the window, and back. "I slept well."

"I did, too."

The muzzle twisted again, and Dacien decided that must be the minotaur equivalent of a smile. "Good." Teodor unwrapped the human, rolled over, and then stood. He looked musingly at Dacien for a moment.

"In this room, Dacien, when we are lovers, I am simply Teodor. I am not Master, not even Sir. Simply Teodor, as you are Dacien. Outside of this room, I am Master or Sir. Your Empire has the term 'Lord', and it is ... not appropriate unless you are addressing me in certain very specific contexts. If you haven't guessed by now, address in minotaur lands is formal, precise, and the wrong form is apt to offend. It doesn't offend me, particularly, but ... it does, as I think you discovered, upset others."

"Such as the other humans here," Dacien said.

"Yes," said Teodor after a moment. "It upset Trand, too, but that was merely amusing." The minotaur sighed. "Although it could have gone ... badly for you.

"This is all happening much faster than I anticipated," Teodor said. "I thought I'd see Trand off, give you a brief introduction to here, let you settle into life, see if I could awaken your magic, bring you to my bed. If I had done all that in twelve months, I would have thought myself well along."

"I've been here, twelve hours, maybe?"

"About," agreed the minotaur amusedly. "Are you ready for breakfast?"

"I ... yes. Should ..." Dacien bit his lip.

"Yes?"

"A human slave--would call you 'Master,' wouldn't he?"

"If he were mine, yes. If he belonged to another, then he would call me 'Sir.'" Teodor pulled on a soft gray robe, tied it. "One moment."

The door opened almost immediately, and a man ? one Dacien hadn't seen before--came in, and kneeled. "Valet, please fetch a set of clothing for Dacien. Have Housekeeper clean the Unicorn Rooms, and ... tell Butler I'll be down for breakfast in five minutes. Is Trand awake?"

"Yes, Master, he's downstairs. He's waiting for you."

"How pleasant," Teodor said. "Have my carriage readied. Trand and I will be going into Maze; I may be back tonight, if not, I will be back tomorrow or the night following. I'll send a messenger if Lord Chimes manages to delay my return beyond that."

"Yes, Master. Is there anything else?"

"Clothes for this one first," Teodor instructed, and turned to Dacien. "You will accompany me downstairs. I will have a place set for you, and a chair brought."

"Teodor, how would a slave usually eat with his master?"

The minotaur blinked in surprise. "A slave would not eat with his master, usually. When he does, he kneels at his master's side, and accepts what he is given from his master's plate." After a moment, he added, "It is a privilege to do so." The minotaur was silent, quietly considering until Dacien was donning the clothes Valet had brought back as Teodor had finished in the bathing chamber.

"Is that what you want to do, Dacien? It is not necessary, although ... it would certainly surprise Trand. That would be funny, I suppose. But ... consider. Once you do that, there's no going back. I'm not asking it of you."

Dacien nodded. "I know. But ... I realized that I'm not in the Empire anymore."

"No."

"I doubt I'll ever return."

"It is most unlikely that you could return."

"I was captured in battle, and battle-captives ? are enslaved. Even in the Empire." Dacien chuckled briefly. "Especially in the Empire. Or ransomed, but I wouldn't be ransomed."

"If you say so," Teodor said. "That I cannot judge. But we would accept no ransom from the Empire.

"I wouldn't be," Dacien said. "Here, you tell me--and I have to believe you--that I'm a mage."

"That you may become a mage," Teodor said. "You have potential. But it might also kill you."

Dacien looked at the minotaur. "You didn't mention that."

Teodor shrugged. "There are many things I didn't mention, some of them more important than others, I assure you. When they become relevant--or when the moment seems propitious, I will bring them up. I believe I mentioned last night that there was simply no way I could tell you everything at once."

"You did."

"Equally, there is no way you can understand everything at once. I don't want to overwhelm you. I asked you, yesterday, to trust that I would treat you honorably. How do you stand with that decision?"

"I don't understand."

"Do you regret agreeing to that?"

"No. You've treated me ... better than I could expect. Much better."

The minotaur nodded. "Thank you. This--my explaining some things a bit at a time--is all of a piece with this. As you understand what I tell you, I will tell you more."

Dacien nodded. "It's not as if I have much choice," he said.

"I don't see it that way. Certainly you have choices," Teodor said. "You could reject what I say, attempt escape, call me a liar, attack me, lie to me ... you have many choices, some more honorable than others. I trust that your choices will be honorable. I ask nothing more of you than that."

"I can't lie to you; you said so."

"Then you misunderstood what I told you, Dacien. You can deceive me, by saying things that you do believe. You can tell the truth, and still be deceptive. It's harder, I admit, but it can be done. And ... I told you that I could differentiate between truth and non-truth only after I had determined that--for the most part--you were being truthful to me. It was only on a point where you were protecting your honor that you were ... not forthcoming." Teodor's muzzle twisted into a minotaur-grin again. "I told you that to show you that I trusted you."

"Oh," Dacien said.

The silver minotaur paused. "Are you ready?"

"For what," said Dacien. "Breakfast? Life as a slave? Life as a mage?"

"Just breakfast," Teodor said, after a moment. "The rest I do not think one can be ready for."

"I suppose," Dacien said.

Teodor led Dacien out, and back downstairs, not by the narrow stairs he'd come up, but the main hall and a huge winding staircase that connected three levels of the house, down to the first floor, and a large room off the main hall filled with a table. A number of covered dishes sat on a huge sideboard. Trand had already seated himself, and was just putting down--Dacien wasn't sure what it was, other than a cup of some kind. It looked almost like opaque white glass, with a formed handle covered with an elaborate tracery of gold. Plates of the same material were set on the table, under fine gray woven mats, and odd silver implements ? knives, spoons, and a four-tined prong of some kind--were arranged carefully around the mats.

Trand gave Dacien a single, disapproving look before greeting Teodor. "Good morning, Lord Fog."

"Good morning, Trand. And please, I am Teodor."

"I did, Teodor."

"Pardon me, Trand." Teodor turned to Dacien. "That was a polite reminder that Trand is here on matters of duty, and not at my invitation, so he wished to apologize for any potential inconvenience. By asking him to use my name, I informed him that I wished him to consider himself an invited guest as well as an official visitor."

"Thank you," Dacien paused. "It's a hard word to say."

"What?" asked the other minotaur.

"Please do not interrupt, Trand."

Dacien sighed. "Master."

Trand just stared at the human, and then looked at Teodor, and started to say something, and closed his mouth, waiting.

"And now?"

"Still hard, Master," Dacien said. "Right side or left?"

"Left side," said Teodor. "If you have any questions, please ask."

"Thank you." said Dacien. He forced himself to say "Master," as he kneeled down by the other chair.

"Now, Trand, I'm sorry to have interrupted you. You were saying?"

The other minotaur just looked at him. "I am impressed. Surprised. Astonished. I do not believe you used magic."

"Not directly, not on Dacien-human, no."

"What did you do?"

Teodor's face twisted up again into a grin, and he gently stroked Dacien's neck. "That, my dear Trand, is the wrong question. Are you hungry?" The gesture sent shivers down the human, but neither minotaur seemed to notice.

"I am."

"There was no need to wait for me to begin," Teodor said, picking up his plate, as Trand took his and they walked over to the covered dishes.

"I dislike eating alone," said Trand.

"How fortunate for me," said Teodor. "I must admit, I am glad you did wait. I usually dine alone, and company is always pleasant."

"I must leave directly after breakfast. Lord Chimes will want a full report."

"Yes," Teodor said. "I've considered that. I myself have ... a number of questions for Lord Chimes."

"I would be happy to courier them, if they did not delay me overmuch."

"Thank you, that's most considerate," Teodor said. "But I'm afraid they would if I were to try to write them down."

"I see."

"I would have sent you back in my carriage, of course."

"But you'll need it, Lord Fog, and I couldn't ask ..."

"No, I will, but I will be leaving directly after breakfast. It's two hours, even so, and I would be glad of your accompaniment."

"Yes, thank you."

"Dacien-human will accompany me."

The two minotaur walked back over to the table, and Dacien heard the clinking of plates, and Teodor put a plate down in front of him--he recognized the scrambled eggs, and sausage, but the limp green leaves were new. Teodor set another small dish ? with another, different bright green leaf in it--down.

"Please taste that--don't eat it. It's lantail, common in our cooking, and delicious, to a minotaur. It's mildly poisonous to humans. It's also fairly bitter to humans ? but it shows up enough in our food that I'd like you to know what it tastes like so you can avoid it. Lantail poisoning will make you very sick for a day or two, and enough could be fatal.

"Next is the question of portions. When you're eating like this, at my side, you eat what you're given. If it's insufficient, tell me later. Simply because I put it in front of you does not mean I expect you to eat it." Teodor paused. "That's a minority view, and I can see Trand disagreeing with me, but as it happens to be my view, and as you happen to belong to me, I expect you to exercise your judgment." Trand paused. "Does that cover everything?"

"Mostly, Master. Would it offend one of your guests if I didn't eat something?"

"I cannot imagine that it would, and if it did, I clearly made an error in inviting him. Such a hypothetically offended guest would never be a guest again."

"Thank you, Master."

"Not at all. Enjoy your breakfast."

"That's so strange," Trand said, after a few moments.

"Hmm?" asked Teodor around a mouthful of egg.

"Listening to you just ... tell him."

"If I don't tell him, how could he possibly know what's expected?" Teodor said, putting his fork down.

"It's not usually done like that."

"Consider it an innovation," Teodor said dryly. "An improvement over the chains, leashes, whips, and other training paraphenalia. I don't miss them. I doubt Dacien does. Should I ask?"

"No," Trand said. "But, Teodor, what question should I have asked?"

"I'm sorry?"

"When I asked you what you did to ... produce that change of attitude, you told me I'd asked the wrong question."

"So I did."

"What question should I have asked?"

Teodor finished chewing and swallowed before replying. "You should have asked Dacien-human what he did to change his attitude."

A pained silence, broken only by the clink of plates, followed, and Dacien ate the food. He even tasted the leaf ? it was pretty much as nasty-bitter as Teodor had warned him.

When Teodor and Trand rose, it caught Dacien by surprise. "Master?"

"Yes?"

"What should I do with ..."

"Leave the plate there. In general, your responsibilities when you're serving me like this are to me alone." Teodor said. "Now, with a little luck, the carriage should be ready and packed for us."

The carriage wasn't ready, but they only had to wait for a few minutes as the elaborate gray carriage was brought out. A matched team of four horses--all the same silver-gray as Teodor's own pelt--trotted in step, and came to a perfect stop directly in front of the house. At least, Dacien thought, it was a beautiful day. The air was still cool with a hint of moisture, but the sun was shining warmly with the promise of fair weather.

A human--dressed in the same gray clothes that Teodor and Dacien wore, opened the door for them. Trand entered first, and Teodor gestured for Dacien to enter before him.

As Dacien had expected, the interior was fine gray leather. One patch of woodwork had not yet faded to gray, and Teodor gave it a glance.

"Master?"

"Sit. By me. Technically, I suppose you should crouch on the floor but that's just uncomfortable, and I propose we dispense with it." Teodor said quietly.

"You're so considerate," Trand said after a moment.

"Yes," agreed Teodor, and then "Go," he said, more loudly, and the conveyance set off--much more smoothly than Dacien had expected.

"May I ask your human--Dacien--a question?" Trand asked, finally, after Mistingrise house had vanished behind them.

Teodor didn't answer immediately, considering carefully before he answered. "I could not object to your politely asking Dacien a question, as long as you understand that my only expectation is that you receive a polite response."

"Yes. Dacien, earlier today I asked Teodor, Lord Fog, what he'd done to change your attitude, he told me I'd asked the wrong question. He told me I should ask you what you'd done to change your attitude." The minotaur looked at Dacien directly. "I thought he was teasing me, but ... he wasn't. Dacien, what did you do to change your attitude?"

Dacien looked at Teodor, who shrugged.

"Master?"

"It's a good question," Teodor said. "And I would like to hear the answer as well, if you can oblige us."

What has he done? Dacien thought back, and ... he could think of all the things Teodor had done, starting with waking him out of a nightmare to the way the minotaur had dried him in the shower and then, after the most amazing sex he'd ever had, brushing him down with a towel ... but none of that was what he, Dacien, had done. What had he done?

"I'm ... I'm not sure, Master."

"I see," said Teodor. "In any case, may I point out that Trand asked the question, and should receive a response?"

Dacien turned to Trand. "I'm not certain; whatever it was, I'm not sure I intended to do it. It ... it just happened."

The dark minotaur turned to the silver one. "Polite, lacking a 'Sir', not informative."

Teodor shifted a little in his seat, uncomfortably. "Dacien-human is walking a tightrope, if you will, in adjusting, and walking it well. Amazingly well, I think. Asking him to give us the provenance of the rope is decidedly unfair."

"It was your suggestion," Trand said.

"It was. I was trying to be less serious," Teodor said. "I was flippant. An error on my part, I think. I should never try to be witty; I regret it afterwards. I am sorry, Dacien-human, to put you in such an invidious position."

"I don't feel like I'm in a bad position, assuming that's what 'invidious' means. But, Master, would you explain what you meant when you said I did something to change?"

Teodor looked at Dacien broodingly. "That's a fair request. Very well. What is the very first thing I asked you to do?"

"Call you 'Sir.'" Dacien said promptly.

"And you agreed," Teodor said.

"Yes, Master, I did."

"I am asking questions here, not as an interrogation, but as an aid to help you figure out the answers. When I start instructing you in magic--"

"What!" said Trand. "What are you doing!"

Teodor turned back to Trand. "I do believe I'm ..."

"You can't tell him that!"

"Can't I," said Teodor tonelessly. "I assure you, as Lord Fog, all the niceties have been observed. Now, if you can restrain yourself." The minotaur turned back to Dacien. "Please ignore Trand's outburst. He's under a misconception that you're still a potential mage, rather than an active one."

"That's not possible," started Trand.

"Nevertheless, it is the case," said Teodor. "Trand, I am trying to answer your question, and would greatly appreciate your cooperation."

"I am sorry, Teodor."

Teodor nodded his acceptance, and turned back to Dacien. "When I start instructing you in magic, I will use much the same format. It's important you figure out these answers yourself, and understand them--not simply be able to repeat them as rote lessons."

"Yes, Master."

"Now, you agreed to call me 'Sir.' Can you think what convinced you--not the arguments I advanced, but the underlying reason."

"You convinced me that you were deserving of respect just as one of my commanding officers would be," Dacien said. "And you agreed to call me by name."

"And why was that important?"

"I suppose because ..." Dacien paused, thinking. "Because you respected me. You said you'd treat me honorably, and assume I was honorable, if I would do the same for you."

"At the time, did you expect that I would? Or were you not sure, but prepared to see? Or perhaps not believing me, and playing along?"

"I ... I thought you would," Dacien said after a moment.

"Truly?" asked Teodor. "That was the prime reason?"

The human considered for a moment, and then finally nodded. "Yes, Master, it was."

"Would a good paraphrase be that you trusted me?" asked Teodor carefully.

"Yes," Dacien said. "That's--that's a very good way to put it. I did. I'm not sure why, maybe because ... because you said you trusted me to be honorable."

"I did, didn't I," said Teodor, thoughtfully. "Yes. Trust. And the incident last night?"

"Trust," repeated Dacien. "You're saying that my attitude changed--that I'm doing this because I trust you."

"I'm suggesting it as a possibility," Teodor said. "Only you can decide if that's the reason, or if there's some other reason as well. There might be."

"Such as, Master?"

Teodor stared at the human for a moment, and the carriage was silent except for the faint jingle of the harness and the clop of the horses. "I do not believe you would become frightened or intimidated by me or by magic, but that's one possibility. Surely you can find others, if you think about them."

"I suppose."

"Sir. Or Master," said Teodor quietly. "Either of those is acceptable."

"Master, sorry Master."

"Thank you."

They traveled on for some time before Trand spoke. "Excuse me Lord Fog, but ... you say Dacien-human is an active mage?"

"Yes," said Teodor.

"I ... I would have thought that impossible."

Teodor nodded. "And I. And yet, here it is. See for yourself."

Trand looked away. "I would need physical contact, Lord Fog."

"I see," Teodor replied. "Dacien, I would ... appreciate it if you would permit Trand to touch you. He will do so respectfully."

"This is magic, Master?"

"Yes. Trand is the student of Lord Chimes, much as you are mine. He's somewhat further along, of course. I think I mentioned last night that ... your magical awakening, as it were, was unusual."

"Yes, and you said you wanted to look into it further. Master."

"I did. Trand would like to verify for himself that you are ... no, let me explain. Pretend, for a moment, that magic is like a dim glow, like starlight on a dark night. Non-mages and latent mages alike look like any person in starlight would--a dark outline, but an outline nonetheless. Some features are visible, but not much. Do you follow me?"

"Yes, Master."

"Excellent. Now, a mage glows with magic; it pours from him out into the world. Such a mage would be like a candle, and a powerful one like a fire. And ... when a mage with such a fire touches--in a magical sense--a latent mage, that mage begins to absorb the strong light--such a one appears darker, like a black outline, or a shadow against the light. At this point, we term such a person a potential mage; they are slowly filling the reservoirs of their own magic. Perhaps. We do not understand it well; we know only that we see them as ... a drain, a point toward which magic goes and does not illuminate. This is not precise, you understand, it is merely a metaphor."

"I think I understand it, Master."

"Excellent. Lord Chimes examined all the captive humans, and because he is a potent mage, he found two latent mages who became potential mages. You understand, one cannot distinguish between a non-mage and a latent mage until the latent mage becomes a potential mage. It may be that all persons are latent mages, awaiting the right ... circumstance to leap to potential mage. We do not know; we guess. So, when Lord Chimes and Trand examined you, they found a potential mage. They did not see you as a latent mage, which is to say, non-mage. Are you following this?"

"I think so, Master, but I don't understand where you're going."

"That's fine. I don't expect you to absorb years of teaching, and instantly grasp all the potential consequences." Teodor said. "Just follow, please. Now, we know, because we have been training mages for a long time, that it takes anywhere from six months to several years before a potential mage makes the next transition to active mage, where instead of appearing as an unusual darkness, a drain of magic, he appears as a brightness, a source of magic. We use the term 'uncontrolled' mage, because we make a further distinction between a mage in control of his magic and one still struggling to master it."

"And I became an active--uncontrolled ? mage last night," Dacien said.

"Yes. But the fastest I've ever heard is six months, and ... ah, more complications. Again for reasons we do not understand, a longer time to transition from potential mage to active mage generally indicates a more powerful mage. I took almost four years. Lord Chimes took five."

Teodor tapped his fingers against the window. "You seem powerful; perhaps in the same class as Lord Chimes and myself, and we are among the strongest mages of clan Lycaili. Now do you see what I've getting at?"

Dacien thought about it for a moment. "Not really, Master. Am I missing something?"

"Perhaps the forest for the trees," Teodor said. "More simply. You've gone from latent mage, to potential mage, to awakened mage, in something like forty-eight hours, when similar transitions have taken four or five years. Does that make it clearer?"

"Oh. But ... how ..."

Teodor's face twisted into a minotaur-grin. "Exactly. I'm wondering what Lord Chimes will make of this little conundrum." He took a deep breath. "Would you permit Trand to touch you?"

"Why, Master?"

"Trand is a mage, but he's not fully trained, not yet. For him to judge your level of magic, he will have to touch you. I'd appreciate it if you agreed, but I will not be angry, or upset, or even disappointed if you decline. Do as you decide."

Dacien looked at Trand dubiously before coming to a decision. "He may, Master."

Trand stood up in the carriage, and then halted at Teodor's outstretched hand. The silver minotaur nodded at the man. "A moment, Trand. Thank you, Dacien-human. That's gracious of you, and I appreciate it."

Trand shook his head, but said "It is. Thank you, Dacien-human."

"You're welcome," Dacien said, and then added, "Sir."

Trand placed one huge hand on Dacien's forehead, and another on his chest. Dacien watched, but Trand didn't close his eyes, or mutter anything, or really do much of anything. His eyes seemed to lose focus a bit, but he might have just been looking at something out the window. Trand withdrew, and then turned to Teodor.

"May I?"

"Yes," said Teodor, and Trand repeated the action, placing a hand on Teodor's forehead and his other on his chest. He withdrew them after a few heartbeats.

"Well?"

"He's ... hard to sense, at first, Lord Fog. It's like clear water. But he'll be a powerful mage, you're very right." Trand sat down, a little subdued. "I think you're a stronger source, but ... it's very hard for me to tell." He gave his own version of a minotaur grin. "You're both so much stronger than I am."

"Strength is one thing, control is another," Teodor said. "You have mastered your gifts, he has not."

"I take it that's hard to do?" Dacien asked.

"Very hard," Teodor said almost cheerfully. "It will be harder for you. Most humans have some time to acclimatize to our society before having to cope with learning magic. You will have to do both, at the same time."

"I think he'll do well, Lord Fog," Trand said, surprising Dacien.

Teodor said nothing, and simply shook his head. "I hope so, Trand." The silver minotaur regarded the human for a moment. "I appreciate your confidence in me."

Trand shook his head. "Lord Fog, I have confidence in him. And in Lord Chimes." He paused. "Do you know what his signature is?"

Teodor looked up, momentarily startled, and then shook his head. "No. It should be present, though, at the rate he's leaking."

"I have a signature?"

"All mages have signatures," Trand said. "It's the inevitable effect of magic leaking into the world through them. In Lord Fog's case, and yours, it's more of a geyser. In my case, it's more a mouse pissing."

"That is an unfortunate turn of phrase," Teodor said, suppressing a laugh. "Nevertheless, magic is pouring from you--and it will have some effect, even if we don't know what it's doing."

"Is there some way to find out?"

"We must be observant," said Teodor. "It may be that whatever the effect is not visible in these circumstances. It may be that my carriage is quietly coming apart even as we ride."

"I hope not," said Trand.

"As do I," said Teodor gravely. "Have you heard the story about my Master, Lord Ember?"

"Things caught on fire around him," said Trand, nodding.

"Yes. He nearly died in a fire his magic ignited. Magic is not always, or even often, safe."

"But ..." started Dacien.

"We must keep ourselves ready and watchful," said Teodor. "And this is no different from any other day."

"So things just caught on fire around him?" asked Dacien.

"Yes," said Teodor.

"How ... that must have made life really hard," Dacien said.

"He used a lightning-rod approach," Trand said. "He carried an oil lamp, or a candle, or something burning, all the time. The leakage caused it to burn faster, but it wouldn't set anything else alight."

Dacien caught an odd look, like an unpleasant memory, cross Teodor's face. "Master?"

"And it usually worked." Teodor said broodingly. "It wasn't perfect. Every now and then something else would ignite. But not too often, and ... he ended up living in a stone house, with glass doors. And many fireplaces. Great fire mage, though. Taught me a lot about fire magic. And ... about extinguishing fires." The silver minotaur grimaced at an unpleasant memory. "They wanted to call me Lord Ash," he said. "Lord Ember and Lord Ash. Turned it down, of course."

"So you take your mage-name from your signature," Dacien said. "Master?"

"Usually," Teodor said, still lost in his memories.

"What is a lightning rod?" Dacien asked.

Teodor and Trand both looked at him, surprised, but Teodor recovered first. "It ... it is a rod, iron or steel although your bronze would as function just as well, that, ah, sticks up from the highest part of a building. Lightning, when it strikes the building, invariably strikes the rod rather than the building, and so the building is protected," Teodor said. "Presumably the Empire lacks this innovation?"

"We don't have such a thing, no. It's just a metal rod?"

"Just that," Teodor said briskly.

"May ... Master, what is Trands's mage signature?"

"Ask him," Teodor said.

"Trand, may I ask what your signature is?"

The brown minotaur looked at him. "Little random things align, usually in runs of three, seven, or nine. Never five, six, or eight."

"Things align?"

"Like coin flips. Or die rolls. Or tossed horseshoes," Trand said.

"That doesn't sound bad," Dacien said.

"It's not. Lord Green's signature is that plants grow better. Lord Chimes is accompanied by ... bell tones, I suppose you'd say."

"Enough," Teodor said suddenly. "Enough. We've discussed enough about magic, Dacien-human, Trand."

"Yes, Lord Fog," Trand said almost immediately.

"Yes, Master," Dacien said, a little more reluctantly.

Teodor just shook his head. "Please trust me, Dacien. I know I'm being hard to follow, but really, really, there are deep dangers for an awakening mage. We've had a lot of practice guiding mages through it, and what we do works, but we don't know why it works. Part of it is that ... we explain things in small pieces, and ... well." He fell silent for a moment. "You're wondering what your signature is, aren't you?"

"I was wondering," Dacien said.

"Chances are it hasn't taken shape yet," Teodor said. "Give it time." He turned his gaze to the window.

"I'm sorry, Lord Fog," Trand said, after a few minutes of silence.

"There's nothing to be sorry for," Teodor replied quietly. He fell silent then, contemplating the countryside as they passed. Dacien looked out the carriage windows as well, but all he could really see were the gathering clouds that darkened the sky.

Dacien felt like he was missing something, but ... Teodor was clearly not inviting conversation. Trand clearly followed Teodor's lead into silence, and neither said another word until they reached a huge stone building in Maze, and even then, it was just a formal exchange of pleasantries.

Trand went off to the side, and Teodor, Dacien in his wake, went up the main stairs and into the building.

A man, wearing blue and red, sat behind a small counter, apparently just waiting, as he looked up at their entry.

"Sir," he said. "May I help you?"

"Yes. Announce Lord Fog to see Lord Chimes. Now."

"He's ..."

"Announce me. Now." Somehow the usual overtones of warmth in Teodor's voice had evaporated entirely.

"Yes, Lord Fog," and the human scuttled off through a pair of doors.

Teodor waited impatiently--Dacien wasn't quite sure how he could tell, since the minotaur held himself almost motionless, but it was clear. Nevertheless, it was several minutes before the human came back.

"Lord Fog, Lord Chimes is expecting you ..."

Teodor set off, brushing past the human.

"But your slave ..."

"This human is with me," Teodor said coldly. "Dacien-human, come."

"Yes, Master," Dacien said.

They marched quickly down a polished granite hallway, and into a huge study. Teodor's hooves rang loudly against the polished stone floor. Somehow, Dacien was unsurprised to see Trand standing behind the desk, where the cream-colored minotaur Dacien had seen earlier sat.

"How disappointing," said Teodor. "I had some questions that were best asked before Trand reported to you."

"I dislike being taken by surprise," the cream-colored minotaur said. "And the human should not be here.

"I am not here on pleasure," Teodor said, his voice still cold. "I am here as Lord Fog, and the training of Dacien-human is mine. By your rather high-handed command, at that.

"First, you had a presentiment that this human should be remanded to me. Was there more, or was that all you knew?"

"I don't think I care to be second-guessed," Lord Chimes responded with equally frigid formality.

"How convenient, then, that I am not here to second guess you. I am here to confirm ? or, I hope--dispel a fear I have. Now, your presentiment. What did it consist of--fully. Please."

"Just that he needed to go to you," Lord Chimes said. "Nothing more."

"Did you expect me to arrive today?"

"Yes."

"When did that presentiment occur? Before Trand and Dacien left? After?"

"Last night, after midnight. Well after midnight, in fact," Lord Chimes said. "Woke me up. I had trouble getting back to sleep, but ... nothing else resolved."

Teodor nodded. "Let me go over my chain of thought with you, Lord Chimes. Trand has reported that Dacien-human is now an awakened mage?"

"Yes."

"But he was still potential when you examined him yesterday. Did you see him in latent mode?"

"He was still potential, and I did not observe him as latent--but then, that would not be unusual."

"I understand, that's certainly expected." said Teodor. "Here's my conjecture: Dacien has been exposed to high-level magics for some time--some considerable time--and he's been a potential mage for that period."

"Possible, perhaps likely." said Lord Chimes, after a moment.

Teodor gave a grim muzzle-twisting minotaur grin. "Except that he's been in the Imperial Army for the past five years. He was promoted to Commander-of-Ten a few months ago. Where, precisely, did he come into contact with sufficient ongoing magic to imbue him?"

"Pity," said Lord Chimes, dismissively. "It seemed like such a good hypothesis, too."

Teodor shook his head. "You still don't see it, do you?"

"No," Lord Chimes admitted. "I don't see it. I am lost." He looked up at the silver minotaur. "Wandering in the fog. Do enlighten me."

"Trand?"

"No, Lord Fog."

"Uh, Master?"

"Yes, Dacien?"

"You're suggesting that I was in contact with mages while I was in the army."

"Or near them, yes."

"Not possible," said Lord Chimes, shaking his head. "I'd know."

"Ah," said Teodor. "You'd know. A presentiment. Your infallible, magically enhanced intuition."

"Yes."

"And it is, as far as I know, infallible," Teodor continued in the same calm tone. "Unless the human mages have some way of blocking your gift."

Lord Chimes stared at Lord Fog for a moment. "But ..."

"Didn't you say that we were lucky; the Empire could have thrown five times the men they actually did at Mog Ford?"

"I did," breathed Lord Chimes. "How ..."

"Here's my unpleasant thought. The human mages have found a way to block your gift. That would require powerful magic, without a doubt. But we have the human Dacien--who, in the last five years of his army tour, has presumably been exposed, continuously,to powerful magic. Is it too much to think that the powerful magic that Dacien was exposed to was the same, or closely related to, magic that might be blocking your gift?" said Teodor. "I think it ... possible.

"Next, instead of thirty thousand soldiers, the Empire invades us--clumsily--with six thousand, and we obligingly reveal our defenses and armies and allies to them. Didn't we?"

"Yes." The single word tumbled into the room like an errant lump of lead ballast.

"The Empire has some means of concealing their actions and movements from us magically, they have twenty-four thousand troops, and they know our own numbers if they were observing at Mog Ford," said Teodor. "All in all, not a military situation I am entirely comfortable with. I am hoping, Lord Chimes, you can correct my understanding."

"A correction," observed Lord Chimes almost genially. "I think I can do that."

"Yes. I had hoped there was something I was missing," said Teodor, sounding relieved.

"Then this should make you very happy: there are twenty-two thousand troops, rather than twenty-four."

The silver minotaur was quiet for about a minute. "No, I am not happier than I was."

"Then permit me to try again," Lord Chimes said, with another twisted-muzzle grin. "That's twenty-two thousand troops that we know of."

"A cogent point. A most severe correction. I had overlooked the uncertainty of military intelligence. I must thank you for drawing it to my attention." said Teodor, looking a bit stunned. "I'm afraid, however, Lord Chimes, I am significantly less happy than I was originally."

"Understandable, entirely understandable." said Lord Chimes. "Still, you did request a correction."

"I do not pretend to your military expertise," Teodor said dryly. "I assure you, Lord Chimes, I find those guesses alarming."

"Yes," said Lord Chimes. "If things are as you guess, it could be ... bad. Very bad. Forces could be pouring through Mog Ford any time in the last three days, cloaked by this hypothetical--but admittedly possible ? cloaking magic. I don't know that I'm convinced of it, but you make a marvelously alarming case."

"As I understand it, we would have the advantage in bad weather?"

"Yes," said Lord Chimes.

A brilliant blue flash lit the room, and it shook from the boom of thunder. Trand jumped, a long knife suddenly in his hand, and Dacien noted that Lord Chimes was carefully setting down a pen.

"I took the liberty of making one or two small preparations on the way here," Teodor said calmly. "Dacien, you might note that this building has a lightning rod." The silver minotaur grinned.

The hiss of rain began almost immediately. "Mog Ford will be unfordable in a few hours," said Teodor. "The weather was amenable to rain--heavy rain. I think I can keep it raining, on and off, for at least five days. There will have to be a break at that point, a day perhaps, but it could be longer."

"Very clever," said Lord Chimes. "A little warning, perhaps, next time?"

"Forgive me," said Teodor. "But we must prepare for the worst, I think."

"We must, and we must determine how badly I've erred."

Teodor paused. "You?"

"I. It's my responsibility, and I missed the possibility entirely." The cream-colored head shook. "I never even thought that my gifts might be blocked, and I should have."

Teodor shrugged. "Nor did I. Until I started wondering about how Dacien ..."

"We can discuss culpability at leisure," Lord Chimes interrupted. "I am responsible for watching the Empire, I am responsible for ensuring the sanctity of our borders, and so I--and no other, Lord Fog ? am responsible for this lapse. So. Let us see if the Empire is ruthless enough to discard six thousand men as a feint."

"How?"

"Visions."

"I'm better at that than you," Teodor said, and paused. "Lord Chimes, we've never been on good terms."

"I find myself in a moment of rare agreement with you, Lord Fog."

"I would invite you to put aside our previous history. Despite my disagreements with you, I have never considered you less than perfectly honorable. We disagree over--policy and philosophy, not over a question of deeper integrity. For this crisis--or potential crisis, at least, I would invite you to call me Teodor. I assure you, Lord Chimes, of my unwavering support. I cannot--and do not--consider you 'culpable,' however my fears turn out."

The minotaur behind the desk scowled. "You have me at a disadvantage, Lord Fog."

"If I do," Teodor said immediately, "I waive it. It is not a thing I care to use. No one has been more assiduous in protecting our borders than yourself, Lord Chimes. No one."

"You propose ..."

"If you will lend me Trand, I will deal with the visioning. You may call the council together. If you like, you may say I insisted on calling them against your judgment, although here and now, I defer to your judgment, simply because on this, you are better informed and better qualified than I."

"Quite a remarkable admission," Lord Chimes said sourly. "I could wish you'd made it earlier."

Teodor shrugged. "I have never questioned your superior judgment in military matters; it is other policies I oppose. Lord Chimes, what can I do to convince you of my sincerity?"

"Very little, Lord Fog," the other minotaur said.

"Sir," Trand said.

"Yes, Trand?"

"I ... believe Lord Fog. Teodor."

"He's convinced you," said Lord Chimes, almost, but not quite, as a question.

"He has, Lord Chimes."

"He's very convincing," said Lord Chimes, giving the silver minotaur a narrowed look. "Well. Teodor. Why don't you call the council?"

"I can't," Teodor said. "None of the long-reaching spells work for me."

"That's right," said Lord Chimes. "I'm sorry. I knew, but .."

"I don't have an affinity for any of the earth-related spells. Water and air I can work with, and ... I have a wide variety of fire spells, from Lord Ember, but what looks like affinity is merely practice, and hundreds of small spells." Teodor paused, thinking. "The visions I can do, and the rain will help, especially reaching Mog Ford. But I'd need to use Trand as a lens. Why don't I set up for that while you call the council?"

"Why do you need Trand," asked Lord Chimes.

"I'd prefer you to observe as well. You're military, you'll see things that mean nothing to me. And, even if your gift is partly blocked, there will still be opportunities for happy accidents."

"Very well. Trand, can you serve Lor--Teodor as a lens?"

"I did say I trusted him," Trand said, after a moment.

"There are levels and levels of trust," Teodor said calmly. "We've never worked together. I will not be insulted, offended, or even perturbed if you decline. We will find some other way to proceed."

"Teodor, Lord Fog, I trust you."

The gray minotaur nodded, and then gave Trand a half-bow. "Thank you. I am honored. However, I have some expectations. I do not expect you to hold the spell beyond your own limits. I do not want you to go to any heroic lengths to hold a spell that is not critical."

"Yes, Lord Fog."

"Dacien. I want you to stay here, and observe. Most magic is ... not very interesting to look at. Mages usually just get a slightly unfocused look to them, as Lord Chimes ..."

"Ruus!" corrected the other minotaur, and he tilted his head. "Please call me Ruus."

"As Ruus is demonstrating now. We are not oblivious, however, just somewhat preoccupied. A vision, however, is different. It has considerable visual impact. I need you to stay quiet, and not to interfere." His muzzle twisted a bit. "Please just stay here."

"Yes, Master," Dacien said.

The silver minotaur stared at the human for a moment, and then nodded. He turned to Trand.

"Start preparing. Haul the rugs off the floor, I want an open space--ten, twenty feet across. This floor is perfect."

"The floor?" said Trand.

"Yes. Floor. Rugs. Remove. Open space. After you've done that, begin preparing yourself."

"Yes, Lord Fog."

The silver minotaur turned, and walked quickly out of the room while Trand began rolling up the huge carpet over the floor. It took him about five minutes, and then he sat down by the fireplace. Trand looked at the logs placed there for a moment, and then they burst into flame. The minotaur looked over to the desk, where Lord Chimes was still staring blankly, and then to Dacien.

"Dacien-human. Come over here, and sit."

He did, silently, taking a chair across from the minotaur. The heat of the fire was welcome; the temperature of the room had dropped quickly once the rain had started. Trand looked at him intently, and Dacien wondered what the minotaur was thinking.

Teodor finally came back into the room, holding two large glass jugs. "It took a little doing," he said, and then paused. "A fire. Excellent thought."

He surveyed the space Trand had made, and nodded. "This will do. I just hope I have enough ink," he said, and he turned over one of the containers. The contents ran out, black, shiny, and wet, and quickly grew into a puddle about five feet wide. He upended the other, carefully pouring ink around the sides of the puddle, coaxing the shiny wet blot on the floor larger and larger.

He sat the two bottles out of the way, and glanced over to Lord Chimes, who was still at his desk, and then to Trand.

"I'm ready, Lord Fog," the minotaur said.

"Good. Ruus?"

Cream-colored fur wrinkled and the minotaur snapped out of his chair with a sudden stretch. "Lord Lash is ... detained. He's visiting the Whittenhorm."

"Could he bring an appeal to Ourobouros?"

"He thinks it a false alarm, but yes, he'll do so if we find something, or if a quorum commands it."

"And the others?"

"Well, it's not so easy to travel in the rain, you know."

"True," said Trand, sounding slightly apologetic. "When can we expect them?"

"The day after tomorrow; at best. Assuming no travel disasters."

Teodor shrugged. "The advantage is still to us. And these are mages, talented, trained, and I feel expecting them to overcome any small inconveniences on the road, even if it's raining, is entirely within the bounds of reasonable expectation."

"Lord Doze offered to disperse the rain," Ruus said.

Teodor just sighed. "I trust you asked him not to?"

"Yes. Diplomatically."

"My dear Ruus, I could never do your job."

Cream-colored eyes narrowed for a moment, and the minotaur barked out a short jab of laughter. "So. I see you've spilled ink on my floor."

"About two gallons," Teodor said equably. "It was all I could find. Trand, I'm ready for you."

Trand stood, walked over to where Teodor waited by the puddle, and kneeled, and then crouched down on all fours.

Dacien was disappointed; he'd expected something more ... impressive. All that happened was that Teodor gently put a hand on Trand's head. The dark brown minotaur stiffened a bit, but nothing else seemed to happen.

At least, nothing else happened to Trand.

The puddle of ink glimmered, and a vista of gray opened up. Dacien felt a vertigo-like rush, and the grays faded into color, greens and browns and whites ? Mog Ford glittered in the rain, the Mog already a little over its banks from the rain. The ford itself was churned white and brown, from the Imperial legions crossing it.

"How many are there?" Teodor asked, in a surprisingly calm voice. Dacien felt ... wrenched. The massed legions now commanding the scene of the prior defeat filled him with something that wasn't quite vindication. The thought that the minotaurs who had so casually crushed them earlier were now threatened was almost pleasant. But.

Had the Empire thrown them away as a feint? Dacien felt almost sick.

"I can't tell," said Ruus. "Nothing. Can you pull back? Maybe look at the fields?"

Teodor said nothing, but the view in the puddle shifted crazily and settled higher ? much higher. From here, Mog Ford was at the very edge of the view, and the wide fields--where his own legions had been ambushed ? were now the campsite of ... six gold Legion flags. Almost forty thousand men.

"Six standards," Ruus said. "So that's maybe six thousand men per, and four thousand actual fighting men. So ... call it twenty-four thousand soldiers, and twelve thousand support troops?"

"I have no idea," Teodor said ruefully. "But that seems ... like a lot."

"It is, it is. At least they're still at the ford. But ... I would have expected a messenger."

Teodor shrugged. "Ambushed, I'd guess. How many were there?"

"Just a scouting team. Ten. The commanders were Zest and Uruth; I'm not sure who they had with them. I don't suppose ..."

"No, I've never met either of them. I'm sorry."

"Yes," said Ruus. "The question becomes, has an advance force reached Howling Pass? Can you refocus there?"

The view whirled again, and began moving ? slowly, it seemed, but the vista changed remarkably fast for all that, and Dacien heard a low moan from Trand. Startled, he looked at the minotaur. Trand had curled into a fetal position, and was shaking; sweat dripped off him.

In another five minutes, Ruus and Teodor were observing a snowfield, the snow pristine, and arguing whether or not what they were seeing was actually there; apparently Ruus thought it might be a seeming.

Trand, on the other hand, had stopped shaking ? but was now laying almost motionless beside the two mages. "Uh, Master?"

"Master!" said Dacien. The two ignored him. He got up, and half-walked, half-ran over to Trand. The minotaur was cold to the touch, and wet, the pelt soaked.

"TEODOR!" he yelled.

The silver minotaur turned with a stern look of anger--which vanished instantly as he saw Trand. Teodor put both hands on Trand, and the view in the puddle glimmered away. "Stupid," the silver minotaur said. "Trand!"

There was no response. Teodor muttered something under his breath that Dacien didn't quite catch, but it made Ruus growl. He reached down, turned Trand over, and, slipping his arms around Trand, hoisted him up. "Help me," he said, and Dacien picked up Trand's feet, and let Teodor guide him over to the fire. They set Trand down in a chair, and Teodor shoved it closer to the fire before gently opening Trand's eye, and staring at it intently.

"His pupils are responsive," Teodor said after a moment. "I think he's in exit shock."

"Just?" asked Ruus.

"Master?"

Teodor blew out a sigh. "Yes. Exit shock. Generally a mage acting as a lens--no, no, not yet, let me finish this--terminates the spell, either by intention or by burnout. And no, 'burnout' is not as bad as it sounds; it takes about a day or two to recover from, nothing worse than that. Exit shock, on the other hand, is when the mage working the spell--as opposed to the lens, who is said to be 'holding' the spell, terminates it. It's ... well, I'm not sure how to describe it. I've gone through burnout, but never exit shock. It's supposed to be a condition in which the lensing mage is conscious but unresponsive; his command of his body lost in the unexpected termination of the spell he was holding. Something like an overreaction. Ruus?"

"Never gone through exit shock," he said. "I only know about from the warnings ..."

"Always let the lens terminate the spell," finished Teodor. "Yes. So we do. And here we have an example of why. But ... he wasn't responsive. I thought he was already in burnout."

"Apparently not," said Ruus thoughtfully. "But why didn't he break it?"

"Lens euphoria?"

"He's never succumbed to that, and he's never shown any addiction symptoms," Ruus said.

"Master?"

"I'm sorry, Dacien. I think I mentioned at some point that magic was hazardous?"

"You did, Master."

"Well, these are some of the hazards," Teodor said dryly. "Lens euphoria is a condition where ... ah ..."

"The subject becomes sexually aroused and fixated," Ruus said. "It's a euphemism for aggressively submissive sexual desire."

"Yes, that's it. It's ... not unpleasant, entirely, but ... it can lead one to do things that are embarrassing afterwards, yes?" Teodor looked at Ruus with a raised eyebrow.

"Very," said Ruus, grinning back at Teodor.

"Lens euphoria wears off. But it can be addictive--the lensing mage comes to crave euphoria uncontrollably. It's ... an occupational hazard."

"At one time, mages kept their apprentices under control by addicting them," Ruus said. "That is no longer an accepted practice." The cream colored minotaur looked at Trand. "It's been deemed dishonorable."

"Yes." Teodor said. "He's been an apprentice for a long time, though, hasn't he?"

"Fourteen years," Ruus said shortly.

"Ah."

"Master?"

"Yes, Dacien?"

"What does 'ah' mean?"

"It means ... it means I have been indiscreet," said Teodor after a moment. "I do apologize, Ruus."

"No, it's ... hardly a secret. He knows."

"It means, Dacien, that Trand's mage-gifts are insufficient for him to pass trial, and be recognized as a full mage. It's a shame, because it means he will be forever an apprentice. Senior, trusted, and respected ? but an apprentice nonetheless. Typically someone in that state would have been ... shown how to control his magic, but apprenticed differently." Teodor paused. "Did you take him on as a presentiment?"

"No."

"It could happen to anyone." Teodor said.

"Yes," said Ruus.

"I'm sorry," Teodor said quickly. "I didn't mean to be flippant."

"No, I know. I'm the one who should apologize."

Trand gave out a soft moan, and their attention was back on him almost instantly.

"Trand?"

The brown minotaur opened and closed his mouth, but only a deep lowing came out. He tried again.

"Slowly. Slowly. We think you're in exit shock, it should pass in a few minutes," Ruus said, almost tenderly. "You'll be fine."

Trand nodded, and made a gesture with his hand.

"Brandy," said Teodor as Trand nodded. Teodor pulled a coin out of his pocket, and began flipping it. Trand watched him, and sipped brandy slowly. Teodor finally stopped the nervous gesture as Trand set the empty glass down. "Lord Fog, Lord Chimes. You're wondering why I didn't break the spell." Trand's voice was a little hollow.

"We are," Ruus said.

"I heard. I couldn't." Trand said simply, his voice taut with exhaustion. "I didn't realize anything was wrong until I did try to break the spell. As fast as I unraveled it, it reknit itself. Lord Fog, I assume you didn't do that on purpose."

"No!" Teodor sounded surprised--whether at the report, or possible accusation that he'd done it on purpose, Dacien couldn't tell.

Trand looked at him for a moment. "I couldn't believe you did, but ... I've never had that happen. I've always been able to break Lord Chime's spells. I thought you were about as strong as he was, yes?"

"More or less, we have different affinities, but we're about the same."

Trand shook his head. "That spell was to Lord Chimes like, well, one of mine is to his."

Teodor frowned. "Not right."

Trand shrugged. "I'm a weak mage, and I know I'll never pass trial. But everything I can do, I do well. Lord Chimes?"

"Your spells are perfect," affirmed Ruus. "It has been so for ... years."

"Have you ever doubted my control?"

"Never."

"Do I look like I'm in a euphoric trance?"

"No."

Trand snorted. "I can say something other than 'fuck me,' so I suppose I'm not. I suppose."

"We know," Teodor said, sympathetically, laying a hand on Trand's arm. "We've been there. All of us."

"Yes. Well, I know what happened. I couldn't overcome the spell's cohesion," Trand said. "Ruus?"

"Could you ..."

"Of course. It would be my pleasure," the cream-colored minotaur said, helping Trand up. "Let's go into my private room."

"Yes," sighed Trand, staggering at first, but getting his balance. Teodor watched as they vanished through a door that clicked shut behind them.

Teodor sat down in the chair that Trand had left, and stared into the fire. "Dacien."

"Master?"

"Please sit," and the request, for all the courtesy, was clearly not a request. "Mystery upon mystery, Dacien."

"What do you mean, Master?"

"Well, did you notice the new woodwork in the carriage?"

"Yes," Dacien said.

"I worked magic ? weather magic, potent stuff--all the way into Maze. That woodwork should have bleached gray. But it didn't, you know."

"I didn't notice."

Teodor nodded. "I just worked a vision spell--again, a tiring piece of work, even if Trand did much of the heavy lifting. He should have bleached tan, at the very least, channeling my magic like that."

"He didn't," Dacien said, more confidently. "He didn't change color at all."

"He did not," Teodor said heavily. "And Lord Chimes worked a distance talking spell, several times--but I don't recall hearing any tones. That's his signature, tones--very much like chimes. Of course, I wasn't listening for them at the time, but ... I've noticed them before."

Dacien nodded as he suddenly understood why Teodor had been playing with the coin earlier. "That's why ... the coin flips? Were they not showing Trand's signature?"

"They seemed random," Teodor confirmed. "Trand's signature is absent, too," Teodor said. He glanced back at the door. "I don't think either of them have realized it yet."

"What ... what does it mean?"

The silver minotaur paused for a moment, organizing his thoughts. "Our magic flows sloppily into the world, Dacien, casting a spell is like filling a thimble with a barrel of water. More--much more--magic slops about than actually goes into the spell." Teodor paused. "Or so we've always understood it. Please know that we really know very little about magic. We think it operates thus, we believe it to be like that, and all of this is guesswork based on our experiences, and the experiences of our predecessors, back to the creators themselves. They, our creators, I mean, understood it ... but they taught us nothing.

"By trial and error, we have learned that every mage acts first as a sink, and then as a source of magic--one might think of a mage as being a portal, or a leak, or a fountain, through which magic enters the world. This, we're pretty certain of. And each mage channels a varying amount. You and I and Ruus, we are geysers of magic. Trand is ... well, a lesser source of magic. In our experience, this amount of magic that flows through us, does not change appreciably over our careers as mages. Accepting Trand's report as truthful, and I do, then I must ask how did my spell become so much stronger?

"Somehow, Dacien, either all or most of my magic went into that spell, or I have somehow become a much, much more powerful mage. I don't think I have, because Ruus would have sensed that, and, as I said, it's not something we've ever seen happen. Also ... if I were leaking that much more magic, I would expect my signature to become stronger. In fact, I expected that spell to leach the color from the ink--and you can see it's still quite black. So, then, I am no more powerful a mage than I used to be, and by the evidence of my signature, that things lose their color and become gray, I might even be weaker. Am I making sense?"

"I think so, Master," Dacien said.

"I first noticed this lack of bleaching when I was doing the weather-working on the way here. The last time I went to Maze, there was an incident with an oil-lamp; suffice it to say that the small fire was put out quickly, and the carriage repaired, but that wood had not yet been exposed to me. I expected my mere presence to bleach it completely by the time I returned to Mistingrise. But it wasn't even starting to go gray, not even after I called the rain. Isn't that peculiar?"

Dacien tilted his head as he looked at the minotaur mage. "Yes, but I ... if you expect me to understand what it means, well, I don't. Master."

Teodor just shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Master," Dacien said, feeling stupid, "but ..."

"No, no," Teodor said with a sound of exasperation. "Do you ... you don't. Let me explain again. No, not again. No. Give me a moment."

Teodor took a deep breath, organizing his thoughts. "First. I didn't expect you to grasp it. You know ... nothing of magic. So why would this or that mean anything to you? It shouldn't. I don't expect it."

"Then ..."

Teodor held up his hand. "Please. I'm not done.

"Second. You have no idea how rare and valuable the quality of admitting ignorance is. I have, over the past--goodness, eighteen hours--had it bludgeoned into me just how remarkable you are, but I still wasn't expecting that. I keep having to heighten my expectations when it comes you, Dacien. You are ... remarkable in your adaptability, and astoundingly honest in your own self-evaluations." The minotaur fixed him with an intent stare. "I ... yes. By Lycail, I will. You, Dacien, are going to be an amazing mage. I never did like ..." Teodor broke off suddenly. "Bah! Difficulties, problems, dangers ... I no longer have any doubt that you will overcome them. None!" the minotaur finished intensely.

"I ... I'm not sure what to say," Dacien said.

"From now on, Dacien, when you say 'Master,' you are addressing your mentor, and you are my apprentice--you are not a slave addressing his master. Technically, you're still a slave, but as my apprentice, you answer to me--and only to me. Ever."

"Yes, Master."

Teodor took another deep breath. "We will deal with protocol as the issue arises."

"Protocol issues?"

"Questions of etiquette. Politeness." Teodor hmmmd. "As my apprentice, you must address other minotaurs as 'Sir.' I understand why you haven't previously, I've respected that ... but if you are to be my apprentice, your actions reflect on me." He paused. "Questions of civility are dueling matters here. Politeness is a survival skill. We are all of us proud and touchy. Even I."

"I have firm faith in your honor, Master, and have since you convinced me to call you 'Sir.'" Dacien took a deep breath himself. "I would be honored to be your apprentice, Master. But I wonder, what would a human mage do here?"

Teodor smiled. "That will not be the problem you think it is, apprentice." He settled deeper into his chair. "But that is not an issue that will raise itself for ... some time. I expect it will be resolved to your satisfaction--and I do not wish you to concern yourself with it for the time being."

"Trust you, you mean."

"Yes."

Dacien looked at the minotaur. Just a week ago, this creature had been his deadly foe. And now? Somehow, the bull-man had morphed into--what? A friend? A teacher? A lover? Some combination of the three? "I do," Dacien said. "I'm not entirely sure why, but ... I do. Trust you. Master."

Teodor closed his eyes for a moment. "And I am honored, Dacien. Do not think otherwise." When he reopened his eyes, he continued. "Your conduct today ? interrupting me to save Trand--was commendable. It is a very serious thing to interrupt a mage. Most apprentices wouldn't have done it." Teodor looked pensive for a moment. "I don't know that, when I was an apprentice, I would have dared to interrupt Lord Ember in a similar circumstance." His face firmed. "But it would have been the right action."

"Thank you, Lord Fog."

The silver minotaur sighed, and then looked up, at the ceiling. Dacien had the feeling he was actually addressing the intricately tiled decorations than him. "I would like to give you your first lesson."

"Yes!" said Dacien.

"You've just had a practical demonstration, and an illustration of what can go wrong," Teodor continued. "The best place to start is learning how to act as a lens."

"Oh," Dacien said, suddenly a little less excited.

"I think we discussed lens euphoria and addiction, so I won't cover it again."

"Yes, Master."

Teodor smiled. "You're worried. Don't be. This isn't a working situation, where I expect you to take care of yourself. You're just going to see what being a lens feels like. It will sensitize you to magic flows, and it's the first step to manipulating them." Teodor cocked his head. "I'll be monitoring you, and breaking the link for you. There is no chance of burnout or exit shock. None. You heard us earlier--neither of have ever even seen exit shock before. It hasn't happened in years." Teodor paused. "Well. Maybe not. What happened to Trand was also ... unexpected. But regardless, even if we do encounter burnout or exit shock, however likely or not, recovery is a matter of a few minutes or days. This is not dangerous."

"Right," said Dacien. "Fine. What do I do?"

"Come over here," Teodor said. "Get into my lap. Yes. Physical contact makes this easier."

"But ... what if someone sees us?"

Teodor looked puzzled. "I don't understand."

"What if ... you know, someone walks in on us?"

Teodor exchanged his mildly puzzled look for one of complete bafflement. "I really don't understand."

"If they ... you know, see us."

"If they see a mage and his apprentice, or a minotaur and a human slave?" asked Teodor. "They're not going to interrupt us, if that's what you mean."

"No," said Dacien. "It's just that ... I mean, ..."

Teodor waited patiently.

"We don't do this in the Empire. Man to--well, man. Minotaur. It's ..."

Dacien's concerns suddenly became clear to Teodor, and the bafflement was replaced with irritation. "This is not the Empire, and as I believe I mentioned last night, all minotaurs are male. We have a somewhat different view of such things. What I choose to do with you is completely up to me. Perhaps unfortunately, but ... no one would question what I do with you, except as relating to things left undone. I might, for example, be chided for amusing myself when a barbarian horde is advancing towards Howling Pass," Teodor said.

"But ..."

Teodor shook his head. "But there's nothing I can do about Howling Pass. If I were there, perhaps, or if I had a reliable lens ..." he trailed off, thinking. "No. It's Howling Pass. It would have to be Lord Green or Lord Doze."

"You're teaching me to be a lens," Dacien said, suddenly, standing up and moving over to Teodor.

"You are not ready to be a lens," Teodor said, sternly, as Dacien seated himself comfortably against the large minotaur. Teodor shifted him gently, onto the minotaur's huge legs. "There."

"Weren't you about to teach me?" Teodor stared down amazed, and Dacien rushed on, twisting his head to look at the minotaur. "Wouldn't it be better if the army couldn't get here?"

Teodor nodded after a moment. "Yes," he said. "This can only provoke more hostilities. Our allies ... Ourobouros, others--they would come, especially if there had been some kind of massacre." He closed his eyes.

"The real problem is that, having called them, they would then demand to invade your world, something that ... Lord Chimes, Lord Lash, and I have been against. Right now, Howling Pass is controlled by Lycaili, and it's the best way to your world."

Dacien looked up Teodor. "Master, you said there were paths around Mistingrise that led to my world."

Teodor nodded appreciatively. "Ah. You were listening, then. Excellent. Yes. But these are ... well, paths seem to align along air, earth, or water. Some mages--Lord Ember, in particular, insist that huge fires could open a path too, but that's never been proven. It seems reasonable, but ... I await evidence. My magic is aligned most closely with air, then water, and I can use fire spells. Earth spells usually just don't work for me at all--and Howling Pass is an earth path. Earth and water paths are ... usually stable. Earth paths are most reliable, whereas water paths generally form and dissipates regularly. Mog Ford is a water path, and one that is open when there's water in the ford, which is ... almost always. It's almost as reliable as Howling Pass. With me?"

"I think so."

"The paths around Mistingrise are air paths. They twist, form, and dissipate almost randomly, and they can change destination as well. I could find a path to your world, for example, but by the time I'd walked it, I might end up in wolven realms. Very unstable, very uncertain. A mage with an air affinity--such as myself--can use them, and get where he's going, in a reasonable time. But even I couldn't take more than two or three others with me. Moving an army ... a disaster. You'd end up with your soldiers scattered over ten or more realms, no way to find them, utterly lost."

"Oh," said Dacien. "But ... if Lord Green needed a lens ..."

Teodor let his hand drift down Dacien's back in a relaxing stroke. "I would prefer you not to serve as lens to anyone other than me," he said. "For ... any number of reasons, but ... well, I'll go into those later. You'll understand better, too, once ... well, you'll see.

"You're tense," Teodor continued. "And probably a little bit scared. I was."

"A little," said Dacien.

"That's fine," Teodor said encouragingly. "Just listen to my heartbeat." Arms wrapped around him--holding him, firmly, not too hard.

"Master," said Dacien, a thought occurring to him.

"Yes?" Teodor said patiently.

"Is this going to be," the human trailed off. "Well ..."

Teodor waited for a moment, and when it seemed clear that the human had finished, he spoke. "Is this going to be what?"

"Uh," said Dacien uncomfortably, "is this going to be ... well ..."

Teodor looked completely blank for a moment, and then he realized what Dacien was referring to. "Oh. Yes. Sexual. Yes. Very." The minotaur smiled, an expression the human was starting to read as amusement. "I hope you don't object."

Dacien just looked up at the minotaur, frozen by the question.

Lord Fog opened his mouth to say something, and froze. He closed his eyes for a moment, and let out a breath of air instead. "Incovenient," he murmured. "We'll put off this lesson, I think. And ?"

Dacien felt a calm come over him, a hazy almost uncaring blitheness, and the air seemed to sparkle somehow.

"? That is a buffer because we're about to meet the unpleasant." The minotaur chopped off the sentence with a suddeness that left Dacien wondering, bemusedly, just what the word would have been.

The door slammed open, and another minotaur strode in--black, all black, with gleaming black horns. He wore an overcoat of shimmering blue embroidered with a pattern of tiny white-and-gold flowers that surprised Dacien, as much as Dacien could be surprised in the hazy mental fog.

Teodor said, "Lord Green."

"Teodor," the other said dismissively. "Where's Ruus?"

"Lord Fog, Lord Green," the pale gray minotaur coldly corrected the black one. "I passed my Mastery some time ago. As I believe I have mentioned on any number of previous occasions."

"Yes, yes," the other said. "Where's Ruus? And ..." the minotaur stopped, took in the human laying sleepily on Teodor, and snorted derisively. "Mastery of magic does not make one a Lord."

"True," agreed Teodor, gently shifting Dacien off him. "We will be leaving. I might wish Ruus had let me know you were coming."

"But you came? From Mistingrise?"

Teodor blinked in surprise. "Yes. It was I who deduced the possibility. We have since confirmed it; the humans have moved in twenty-four thousand effective soldiers past Mog Ford."

"Mmmm," Lord Green grunted. "Howling Pass is sealed, unless ... Ruus mentioned human mages. Could they break through?"

The grey minotaur sighed. "I don't know. They have found a way to cloak themselves from Lord Chimes's perception, but they were not blocked from my visioning. The capabilities of human mages are varied, and ..."

"Yes, yes," Lord Green interrupted, waving his hands idly. "Where is Ruus?"

"I used Trand as a lens," Teodor said.

"So Ruus is fucking him?"

"They are in Ruus's private study," the gray minotaur said calmly. "I would not choose to disturb them. As you are here, and more competent than I at military matters, I will leave."

"Don't go back to Mistingrise," Lord Green warned.

"No. I will be in town. Possibly at Gray House. More likely at Gray H?te; there is a suite reserved for me."

"Why not your house?"

Teodor was silent for a moment. "Chelm may be there," he said.

"You two still arguing?"

"Yes."

"Why don't you throw him out? It's your house. Send him to a hotel."

"I doubt I could explain it," Teodor said wearily. "Suffice it to say that I feel responsible for him."

Lord Green just shook his massive head, and Dacien's eyes were drawn by the strange glitter of his horns. "Foolishness. He needs to learn. He won't if you baby him." The black minotaur's gaze fell on Dacien, and his eyes narrowed. "That one's trouble," he said.

"If so, he's my trouble."

"I don't ... what did you do to him?"

"I don't think it's your concern," Teodor said, a hint of anger seeping into his voice. "I certainly don't think you have any right or privilege to attempt to influence my property."

"When you don't have the sense to do it yourself?" Lord Green said. "Humans can't be trusted with magic. They need ..."

Somehow, the gray minotaur went from sitting to standing. "What this one needs is my business!" Teodor snapped. "Mine! Mine alone!"

The black minotaur stepped forward. "Foolishness concerns all of us. I don't appreciate your distrust."

"You would never have known of my distrust, had it been unwarranted," Teodor said, pitching his voice low. "Let me make something clear, Lord Green. If you harm--touch--influence--this human, when I find out, I will kill you."

"You?" snarled the larger minotaur.

"Yes," said Teodor, almost tonelessly.

"You'd challenge me? A mage sixty years your elder? Isn't that a little presumptuous?"

Teodor grasped Dacien by the shoulder, and began guiding him towards the door. "If you say so. Please inform Ruus that I shall remain in town until the current ... situation resolves."

"Not Lord Chimes?"

"No." Teodor said, as he led Dacien out. The gray minotaur seemed to relax as he led Dacien out into the hall. "Oh. Dacien. Here." The strange lassitude that had swept over the human drained away.

"What ... I mean, Master, what was that?"

Teodor didn't stop walking down the hallway. "I will not discuss that with you yet."

Dacien followed alongside, occasionally needing to take a double-step to keep up with the gray minotaur. "Master? What can you tell me?"

Teodor shook his head. "Lord Green and I hold opposite opinions on the treatment of humans. He attempted to ... influence you."

"Influence, Master? How?"

"That is not open for discussion," Teodor said briefly. "I am sorry, but ... you are not ready to hear that."

Dacien considered that while they navigated their way out of the building, around a corner, and into a carriage-house. There were several carriages there, but only one was the distinctive gray of Lord Fog. They strode forward, and were met by one of the hurrying coachmen.

"Master, I took the liberty of sending a runner. Warlord Chelm is at the house," he said.

Teodor made a gesture of annoyance. "Does he know I am in town?"

"No, Master."

"Very well, we'll just go to the Gray Hote."

"Oh," the man said. "I ... I already notified House Wide. Warlord Osaze was ..."

"Yes, he did." Teodor said after a moment. "Yes. Well done, well thought of."

"Master, thank you, Master."

"Is he in town?"

"No, Master."

Teodor considered for a moment, and then nodded. "House Wide."