I, Dacien

A Story by Onyx Tao

Copyright 2011

Released under the Creative Commons

Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike License

Chapter Nine: Realignment

"I cannot tell you how pleased I am that this meeting was convenient for you, Ambassador Corrigan." Regent Xavien rose out of courtesy, and gestured at the single empty chair, covered in a glossy blue velvet verging on purple, the delicate embroidered filigree of gold flowers matching perfectly the gold traceries on the similarly-colored wallpapers. The carpet, of the same blue-purple, lacked any colored traceries. Three of the Ambassador's guard took quiet positions around the room, interspersed with two of Xavien's personal guard and a single member of what had been Cresphonte's guard. "I was concerned with inviting you so late."

"Not at all," Corrigan said, seating himself. "I find the night congenial and quiet, and the midnight hours are often my most productive. It is, I grant, an unusual time, but entirely convenient." The Ambassador flashed a smile at the Regent, which the Regent failed to return. "Especially as I was particularly hopeful for an audience."

"Yes, your embassy made that ... clear. I assure you that this is, as you requested, the very first audience available today. Forgive me if I am overly blunt, but, as you point out, it is late, and I do not usually schedule anything other than sleep after midnight. What is your concern?"

"You cannot guess?"

"I have been occupied," Xavien said, "preparing for the installation of our next Patriarch. I do not have hours to spend guessing when I might learn more from asking."

"I suppose so," Corrigan sighed. "Well. Let me start by presenting my personal condolences on the loss of your Patriarch and your cousin; I am told you were close. I am certain I will have the official Ungoliant condolences soon."

"I thank you on my behalf and that of Lycaili," Xavien intoned formally. "But that cannot be the purpose of this meeting."

"No," Corrigan said. "It concerns Ambassador Ianthos, or rather, his mission, if his mission is what I think it is."

"There is no reason to keep his instructions from you, Lord Ambassador, since one of the clans he visits will be yours. His mission is to extend the Truces to prevent the creation of ninja." Xavien paused. "In our discussions, we had not thought Ungoliant would oppose such a thing. Were we, perhaps, mistaken?"

"No," Corrigan replied. "In fact, I would personally welcome that codicil, and feel certain it will be warmly received by my Master." He took a breath, and asked, "Is that chamomile tea I smell?"

"Yes," Xavien said stiffly, trapped back into formal phrases. "May I offer you some?"

"Please," said Corrigan.

"Of course." Xavien reached forward, and poured the steaming yellow liquid into a porcelain cup painted with trees. "Here you are, Lord Ambassador."

"Thank you, Lord Regent. Are you not having some yourself?"

"No," Xavien answered, and there was a short silence.

Corrigan broke it after taking a sip of the hot tea. "Regent ... could we continue this discussion in private ?"

"Magical privacy?"

"Yes, Lord Regent."

"I hate to disturb Lord Chimes so late," Xavien started.

"Lord Regent, you are well capable of sealing this room yourself, and I do not question your ability to do so, however unusual it would be for the Regent to do so rather than a mage."

"Good," said Xavien, and then, "I have excluded our guards, as well."

"And you are, I trust, warded against mindbending? No person can casually extract thoughts from your mind?"

"I have been so warded for many years," said Xavien.

"As am I," Corrigan said. "I do not inquire of your security casually, Lord Regent. I came with instructions of my own."

"I did not doubt that."

"First, we had some warning of this assassination, although ... no, please, Lord Regent, we thought the danger far off, on my word! I was told there was no urgency, that no possible attack could be mounted for months!"

Xavien forced himself to sit back down, and held up his hand, as he brought himself back under control. "I perforce believe you," he said grudgingly, and then, "I beg your forgiveness, Lord Ambassador. These events ... I cannot pretend to be indifferent about them. The thought that we might have had warning ..."

"I understand, and there is nothing to forgive. Our intelligence was wrong as to the timing, obviously."

"Obviously," repeated Xavien.

"I am correct in assuming your Lord Winter was sent off to try to reach some accommodation on ninja. But, perhaps there was something beyond that?"

"There is nothing to conceal there. He had no other instructions. Only to add a codicil to the Truces to outlaw ninja," Xavien said. "We see no advantage to anyone in their creation."

"I ... that is ... our intelligence appears to have been wrong again, then," Corrigan said. "Or are you unaware of Ourouborous's efforts? I was told that Lord Fog was aiding them."

"A quid pro quo situation. Lord Fog disapproves - strongly - of creating ninja. But yes, Ourouborous has such a program. We hope to have them outlawed before they can become effective."

"We think they will be effective within a year. The Lord of Bones intends to have a force of nearly a hundred ninja."

"That sounds impossible," Xavien said. "Are you sure of this matter, Lord Ambassador?"

"The secret of ninja is known to Ungoliant,' Corrigan said. "It is certainly ambitious, but it depends primarily on having the right candidates for conversion. We do not think he can ready that many ..."

"How long does it take, this, conversion , once a candidate is identified?"

"Three to six months, and then everything after that is training."

"So quickly," Xavien murmured. "Well. That is ... unfortunate."

"No," Corrigan said. "Candidates must be youthful, and with significant tempus potential. Bulls who might have been grandmasters, had they devoted themselves to the art. After their losses at that battle, they don't have ..."

"Imagine they do," said Xavien. "I suspect the Lord of Bones has found a way around that."

"How?"

Xavien shrugged. "So he suggests."

"Interesting," Corrigan said. "You are certain?"

"I am certain he believes he can."

"Interesting," Corrigan said again.

"What of it?"

"My Master will support this codicil of yours and Lord Winter's, but existing ninja must be put down," Corrigan said.

"Executed, you mean. I see."

"We cannot accept any standing forces of ninja if we have none."

"I understand your position," Xavien said.

"Will Lycaili agree to this? Can you? In the face of a hundred or more Ourouborous ninja?"

"That is ... ultimately not my decision," Xavien said. "That ... that must be our next Patriarch's."

"But you know who that person will be."

Xavien said nothing.

"And how that person will likely react."

"It is not my place to make new policy, merely to see that our clan functions until our next Patriarch is seated," Xavien said.

"But ... you could tell me how he might react."

"I do not know how he will react," Xavien said. "I will not guess."

Corrigan nodded. "I see. What would your decision be? If it were your decision to make?"

"It is not my decision."

"Still."

"It is not my decision," repeated Xavien. "And I am grateful that it is not. I am curious, however, in that you say you had some word about this."

"Some," Corrigan said cautiously. "I am not sure who is behind it."

Xavien snorted. "We are not without some theories, and even some evidence, ourselves."

Corrigan shook his head. "There is more than one player in this game, Lord Regent, and hard to function without a name."

"I have such a name," Xavien said.

"You do?"

"Yes," Xavien said.

"I was instructed to share a name with you, Lord Regent, if you had information of equal value to us. Merely seeing if our names match might be ..." Corrigan paused. "Enough."

"Yes." Xavien reached down to the desk, pulled a short square of heavy paper from it, and scribbled something, folded it, and set it back down on the table. "That would be acceptable."

Corrigan reached for the paper, and stopped as Xavien's hand blocked him. "Please."

"Scylla," Corrigan said, staring directly at Xavien. "Some of Scylla survived."

"Interesting," said Xavien, pulling his hand back.

Corrigan reached down, unfolded the paper, and then looked back up at Xavien. "You knew. How? That ... that has been one of the best-kept secrets ... I can't tell you how many agents we lost, trying to track this down."

"Lost?"

"Mindburned," Corrigan said. "How long has Lycaili known?"

"Not long," admitted Xavien. "Once we were attacked, we started ... looking harder. Some of it was cleverness, not mine, I should add, and more of it luck."

"Luck," said Corrigan quietly.

"Some."

"Ungoliant thinks there is another." Corrigan said.

"Another what? Another interest? Who?"

Corrigan shook his head. "That has not been told to me."

"Another ... clan? Xarbydis?"

"I am told," Corrigan said carefully, "that we explored that possibility, and we think not."

"Why, then, do you multiply the complications?"

"Because another interest seems to be acting against ..." Corrigan tapped the paper. "Them. Subtly. And against us, too."

Xavien was still for a moment. "Against both of us ..."

"What?"

"Do you recall a series of border incidents between us and Ourouborous? Not long ago, twenty years or so?"

"Yes. Are you suggesting ..."

"The incidents were manufactured, we now think, and I had been wondering if ... but now, I hardly ..." Xavien paused. "I do not know what to to think. I am dropping our privacy spell. I need to speak with another."

"Lord Fog," and Xavien paused.

"Thank you, Lord Fog, and I look forward to your arrival, but that is not the matter at hand. It has to do with that matter you were exploring directly before you left, the one that came up so unexpectedly."

"Partly that, partly that I am in company. But yes. The question has been raised that, perhaps, we were steered into that discovery, by yet another player."

"His Excellence the Ungoliant Ambassador, the Lord Corrigan."

"Bend your thoughts to the matter, and see what you can determine. It may be coincidence, and even if it be not, it may simply be too well hidden for even your discernment. But I am convinced we should look."

"It is hardly an imposition; I shall do so directly. Is there anything more I can do for you?"

Xavien smiled, and said, "Thank you, Teodor. I look forward to seeing you." He nodded.

Corrigan asked, "You feel you may have been manipulated? Recently?"

"Possibly," said Xavien. "It is a hard thing to know. Forgive me, Lord Ambassador, but I have one more task ..."

"Nikohorus!" said Xavien sharply. "May I have a moment of your time?"

"I have nothing but thanks and gratitude to offer on that score. It is simply that Teodor asks you to contact him immediately."

"Be that as it may. No, it is nothing, I needed a word with him on another matter."

"Thank you, Lord Speaker."

Xavien's eyes returned to Corrigan's, and he smiled briefly. "One of our enemies may have slipped," the Lord Regent told the Ambassador. "We shall see."

? ? ?

Zebra finished packing the third - and hopefully final - box of books selected by Lord Fog from the massive collection of the Lord of Bones. The gray minotaur was still looking, though, when he froze, and stood at attention, and began another of his conversations with the air. "My Lord Regent. I am at your service; we are almost ready to depart now."

"The family matter I looked into? You think someone might overhear us?"

A look of surprise flashed past his face and he said,"I hardly see how. Who suggests this?"

"Troubling. How may I serve you in this matter?"

"There is ... I do see a possible thread to pull, My Lord. Might I impose on you to ask the Lord of Bones to contact me? Immediately?"

"That is more than sufficient. I shall see what I can find."

The minotaur took a deep breath, and waited expectantly. He did not have to wait long. "My Lord of Bones, yes, thank you. Some time ago you mentioned you had a note from the old Lord of Dolmens regarding Five. Was it in his hand?"

"Good. Did you retain this note?"

"I would beg to be permitted to examine it briefly."

"I am not sure, but My Lord Regent thinks it could be instructive."

"Certainly, My Lord of Bones. When do ..." he broke off. "I ... I do not know."

"Yes, thank you, My Lord." Teodor shook his head.

"How remarkably odd," he whispered, and then turned to Benelaus with a look of concern. "We will leave as soon as the packing is done, not tomorrow morning, after all. We will meet up with Lord of Bones in ..."

"My Lord Fog," the words might have been polite, but the tone was not. "My Lord has moved up the departure to now." Warlord - General - Crandall was standing in the door that had been empty a moment earlier, somehow radiating a barely concealed impatience. "I offer my apologies for the disruption, but the Lord of Bones now wishes you to meet with him at Maze before heading on to Lycaili." He did not, Zebra thought, sound even remotely apologetic.

"Good," Teodor said, turning to face Crandall. "We have spoken, the Lord of Bones and I, and as that change was at my request, it is I who should apologize to you. I know that you and General Osaze have spent much time considering the security requirements of our journey, and I hate to have wasted your time."

"You have not, My Lord," Crandall said. "These plans will serve us regardless, we anticipated many possible changes, and this is one of them. I assure you, neither I nor your General are caught unprepared by this circumstance."

"Even better, then," Lord Fog said. "There are still some petty items remaining ... but they are hardly critical and I can live without them, or replace them without inconvenience. The Lord of Bones can send them on at his leisure, and every second we delay is, as you say, a reproach to our honor."

Zebra watched Crandall consider that for a moment. "Yes, My Lord Fog. A carriage will be ready by the time you are downstairs; I presume you will want the human and its overseer with you?"

"Yes," Lord Fog said. "As well as Dapple."

"I had thought he should stay," Crandall said. "There is still much we need to do."

"He goes where I go, General Crandall," Lord Fog said calmly. "You may accompany me back to Lycaili, should you wish."

"I ... I will not be going, Lord Fog. My Lord of Bones commands me to remain. Between my second, Warlord Ulian, and your own General Osaze, we - General Osaze and myself - feel you will be secure."

The gray minotaur nodded. "Then I must bid you farewell, General. I wish you," and the gray minotaur hesitated a moment. "An honorable result."

"Thank you, Lord Fog, but that cannot be in doubt."

Only Zebra heard Lord Fog's nearly silent reply. "Can it not?"

? ? ?

"Zebra, would you prefer to ride up front with Benelaus, with the driver, or inside with myself and Dapple?" Zebra paused with indecision. What did his Master want him to say, and why wouldn't Lord Fog just tell him? Which ... it was a hard decision, anyway. Either Benelaus or Teodor would let him rest against them, and ...

The human simply knelt down. "Either would be wonderful, Sir."

"Then be with me," Lord Fog decided, and smiled. "I find I've been sleeping much better these past few nights."

Why would he ... "Sir?" Zebra asked, but Lord Fog said nothing more, merely climbing into the carriage. Was that meant to be complement, now that Zebra was spending his nights with Lord Fog? He hoped it was. Zebra was finally starting to sleep better, too.

They met up with the grim Lord of Bones that evening; he was waiting in his own carriage and no sooner had Lord Fog's pulled up then he had walked over, entered the carriage, and shut the door again. "Go," the Lord of Bones said, rapping on the carriage. "The road is clear for another ten miles; there is a wayhouse for us there. In the meantime ..." He pulled out a heavy leather folio. "Warded. I mean no offense."

"I understand," said Teodor. "I take none. It is a most inconvenient thing for a scholar, I admit, having a signature that bleaches written material."

"I cannot imagine what you hope to find," the Lord of Bones continued. "I have examined it closely, and ... it is his hand, consistent with his phrasing, on his paper, with his seal." The gaunt minotaur took a breath. "What more is there to examine?"

"We shall see," Teodor murmured, and parted the leather. Zebra looked curiously; it was parchment, still creased from where it had been folded, the wax stamp on the ribbon broken but still there, a blob of green with an imprint that Zebra could not quite make out. The Greek letters were small, even, and precise. Even the signature was fine and controlled; as fine a hand as any scribe's work Zebra had ever seen.

Teodor simply laid his hand on the paper, and a moment later, he said "We have been deceived, My Lord of Bones. This is a forgery."

"How ..."

Teodor made a silencing gesture. "Pristine. An expert forger, skilled ... forged ... forged Niko's ... signature? Something, he's forged other documents with Niko's name, and ..." Teodor paused. "There's a name, just floating there but I can't get it. It's tied up with ... bloodline, it's a bloodline, a pristine bloodline, but it's too ..." Teodor shook his head. "There just isn't enough there. Whoever did this was concentrating on getting the forgery right; and there's not much more buried in the document."

The Lord of Bones stared at Teodor for a moment. "Some air magic? A remarkable skill."

"Sometimes - and not always - writing can retain the intent of the writer," Teodor said. "An obscure art, and one that, I regret, I have been unable to teach to Lord Winter or Lord Doze. It is helpful in research, as you might guess."

"I would think so." the gaunt minotaur said quietly. "Should I inform Xavien of this?"

"If you would," Teodor said. "Or I can tell him when we arrive. I don't know that a day and a half will matter that much."

"It might," the Lord of Bones sighed. "Lord Chimes."

"Yes. I need to speak with your Regent, at his earliest convenience, on the matter he contacted me about earlier."

"Thank you, Lord Chimes."

It was nearly an hour later when Teodor perked up. "Yes, Lord Regent?"

"Of course. My Lord of Bones, if you would reach out to My Lord Regent Xavien?"

"Why not," murmured the gaunt minotaur. "Lord Regent."

Excellent. We can all now hear each other.

"So we can."

What have you found?

"A forgery," Teodor said, "Confirming some of your thoughts. I can explain when I arrive. My Lord Regent, this is not secure, nor safe."

No. And the matter is secondary, and can wait. But you were right to bring it to my attention so quickly. Thank you, Lord Fog, My Lord of Bones.

"Secondary?" asked the gaunt minotaur, with more than a hint of displeasure.

"Privacy?"

"Yes," the Lord of Bones said. "Now. Secondary?"

"It is theoretically possible to listen in on the far speaking spell."

"It is?"

"Theoretically," Lord Fog said quietly. "We discovered a mode whereby it can be tapped. We do not have a means of exploiting it, and we do not have evidence that anyone else does, but we now consider it insecure."

"And you've known this for how long, Lord Fog?"

"Revelation of such things, My Lord of Bones, was not in my discretion before now."

"It would have been useful to know."

"Perhaps, and but I think not," the gray minotaur shrugged. "I doubt that anyone is tapping it. It is a theoretical breakthrough known only to a few mages, and none of those have determined how to make use it. But doubt is not the same thing as certainty. The matter is not secondary, not at all. I mentioned Scylla to you, did I not?"

"Yes."

"The Lord Regent thinks there may be a second party, one who knew about Dapple, and pointed you to him. It is not, you perceive, something to the advantage of Scylla."

"A friend? No," the gaunt minotaur said softly. "No friend would act so. Another enemy, then. But why ..." and Nikohorus nodded. "Of course. It was a severe difference between us, had ... I will admit, had you not accommodated me, there would have been," and the minotaur cut himself off. "I have been played." That came out with a great deal of anger.

"We all have, I think," Teodor said quietly. "But now, we know, and we will peer into the shadows more carefully."

"Yes," muttered Nikohorus. "Very much."

Dacien tried not to let the barren landscape affect him, but it was hard. There was nothing but rock, sand, and dust. The graves they'd passed had been weren't even graves, but cairns, representing three separate disasters. Two were single graves, a minotaur who had died in this wasteland. The third had been an entire pilgrimage group, nearly twelve minotaurs. What had happened, no one knew. They had failed to return, and three Brothers sent to investigate found them, laying dead. It had taken two more trips to build the cairn, since they dared not spend more than eight hours.

The breeze tasted of salt and ozone as they ascended the cliff, and they reached a large overlook rough-paved with uneven stones. It overlooked an ocean, and the breeze turned wet. Aside from the smell of salt, there was no other smell from the ocean, no scent of rotting seaweed, or any of the other scents Dacien associated with the sea, or ocean travel. Their guide just gestured out to the sea. "There."

Sasha looked out over the waves solemnly, shaking his head.

Dacien stared out to sea for a few minutes, and then worked his way over to Sasha. "Master?"

"Yes?" the brown minotaur said softly.

"What ... what am I looking at?"

"What ... the Scyllan Ocean," Sasha said, after a moment. "You're looking at what remains of Scylla. Thousands of hectares, ten great cities at least and hundred of smaller towns, all drowned. Supposedly, the ocean formed in a single day and a night - isn't that correct?" Sasha raised his voice slightly.

"So the story goes," the Brother said quietly. "Thousands of minotaur drowned, and ten times that number of humans, all in a single night. The shores were littered with drowned humans. There are several contempory accounts, from would-be rescuers."

"Would-be?"

"There was nobody to rescue," the Brother said. "Perhaps a human or two might have survived the waters, but not the waters and the poisoning. All of those who came to assist sickened themselves - the poison was stronger. Five of them died, and twenty-three of them never recovered fully. It took some time for the mages of the time to determine how to counter the poison and the poisoning magic."

"What happened to the ... drowned?"

The Brother sighed. "There were too many too bury, and nobody understood the poison. They feared burning them, or even much contact with them. The bodies were left where they washed ashore, and we let the sea take them back. Now, we know we could have safely put a cairn around them, but ... nobody knew that, then. And, of course, they were drowned." The Brother gave the last word an odd emphasis of distaste.

Dacien looked over at Sasha, who was still gazing out over the sea, and tapped his arm softly. "Master?"

"Yes?"

"I had a thought ..."

No magic, please, the smaller minotaur said. Or is it something you percieve?

Neither, Master. But ... why is the fact that the humans drowned of special importance?

What?

Dacien patiently repeated the Brother's comments. Or did I misunderstand? But that they were drowned ...

Drowning is a horrible death, Sasha replied. And it is all too easy for a minotaur to drown. Humans float. Minotaur do not. There was a short pause. You have not learned how to swim, have you?

I can swim, Dacien thought.

As a human, yes, Sasha replied. As a minotaur ... you may find it traumatic. A shudder ran through the brown minotaur. I did.

What was it like?

It was ... bad, Sasha thought, and Dacien could feel that Sasha was deliberately shielding his thoughts even before the mage confirmed it. I will not inflict it on you.

But you can swim now?

No, Sasha sent curtly. And the thought of immersing myself in water deeper than my chest still horrifies me. There was another pause, and then, Many minotaur have such experiences, of being unable to swim. It is a horror for many of us. Swimming is something better left to fish.

Thank you, Dacien responded silently. I think that ... answers my question very well. I am sorry if I brought back bad memories.

Merely standing here and imagining that day, when the waters swept in to the farmers and merchants and all the folk of Scylla, brings back those memories, Sasha sent back. We come here to remember it. It was our predecessors, Dacien, who did this thing. Only a mage of Scylla could have unleashed the poisoning that still imbues Xarbydis. And only a mage of Xarbydis could have drowned Scylla. It is right that you stand here, and consider what you would do, if Cresphontes commanded you to unleash such a power.

Dacien looked at Sasha in startlement. "Master ..." he said.

Sasha shook his head. That was not a question I have asked you. It is not a question I would ever ask you. But it is a question you must ask yourself. Our power is great, Dacien. We must use it with honor and responsibility, and always, always, remember what it may cost us, and those who depend on us.

Dacien thought about that as he stared out into the breeze. It said something that the clans required their mages and generals to come here, to see just what this kind of warfare might cost, but ... it was an odd thing for even minotaurs to leave something so important ambiguous. Or perhaps it was just that odd honesty that they had, to admit that even this barren wasteland might have had its inception in the demands of honor and clan service. Could this have been avoided? Certainly, the Truces that followed had prevented it from happening again.

It didn't help with the feeling that it shouldn't have happened at all. Dacien simply faced out into the sea, staring into the clean blue waves, wondering not if he would be faced with this kind of decision, but how many times, and he hoped it would never have consequences like this. He wanted, suddenly, to discuss it with Teodor, and then he looked over at Chelm, who was standing quiet, like all of the guards, and remembered that Chelm, too, would be inheritor to this kind of power.

Because he, Dacien, had made it so, at the command of Teodor. He hadn't known what magic could do, had no experience, had no real knowledge, and yet at the command of someone he trusted ... given this power to another. Dacien suppressed a shudder, and the decisions seemed not so different. Destroy everything, give another the power to destroy everything. Had Teodor thought of that?

The Brother's announcement, "We have spent as much time here as we may," took him by surprise and startled him out of his thoughts.

"Yes," Sasha said loudly, turning away from the sea. "Thank you. I will not be sorry to leave this place." and the general murmur of agreement among the others showed Dacien that he, at least, was not alone in his thoughts.

The Lord of Bones' carriage, carrying both the Lord of Bones and Lord Fog, was met by a troop of Lycaili warriors less than an hour away from the Lycaili Maze, and the ensuing confusion and distrust was averted when the Lord of Bones confirmed with the Lord of Chimes that, yes, the Regent had dispatched such a force - without bothering to inform either the Lord of Bones or Lord Fog of this addition to the security arrangements. Nicohorus contented himself with a mild and diplomatic complaint to Lord Chimes, who was suitably apologetic on behalf of Regent Xavien. Lord Chimes even added that Regent Xavien would meet them, personally, on their arrival.

Nikohorus considered that for several minutes before speaking to Teodor. "Do you know why the Regent would want to meet us?"

"You, perhaps, to discuss some ..." and Teodor paused. "But no, that doesn't make sense. There is much a Regent might wish to discuss with you, but the Patriarch is being confirmed at noon. I cannot imagine what business he might have that would not better wait for the new Patriarch."

"Who is?"

"I, like most of Lycaili, have not been informed," Teodor said, spreading his hands. "Truly. Regent Xavien is ... he has not been forthcoming on any topic. I believe this assassination has shaken him. As it has me, I admit."

"You have ... been told nothing," and Nikohorus's tone was doubtful.

"I was told that, since there was a sufficient majority to confirm a new Patriarch, my knowing would not matter," Teodor said. "Which ... is technically correct. It is almost inexcusably arrogant, I would say, except ... that the only person I can rightly address such a remark to is Xavien himself." The gray minotaur allowed himself a smile. "As it is, I must simply accept that the Regent has good reason for his actions. But I have not been told I cannot discuss it."

"Then you have some idea of whom may be confirmed today?"

Teodor shook his head. "No. I am familiar only ..." and he paused. "I had a wild thought. Osaze's name would surely come up in any discussion."

Nikohorus didn't say anything, merely tilting his head slightly.

"He is young, but ... he has the right experience," Teodor said.

"What would you say to Hector?"

"As Patriarch?"

"Yes, of course," the darker minotaur growled.

"The same oath I would offer to anyone chosen Patriarch," Teodor said. "The decision is made. My brother mages have confirmed the choice."

"You're not even a little put out that you were cut out of the process?"

"Yes, of course I am," Teodor said. "It is one of the most serious decisions I can make as a Lord. It is my responsibility to help make that decision, and I was not there to discharge it. Whatever the circumstance, our decision is, no doubt, poorer because many voices were not heard. But to question the decision on such a basis would be to undercut the Regent and Cresphonte's successor, and that I will not do. The minimum quorums were met, and I accept that."

The Lord of Bones was quiet for a minute, and then said, "You sound so sincere, too."

"I am sincere," said Teodor, somewhat stiffly.

"You really have no idea who's been chosen, do you."

"I believe I said that, My Lord of Bones. I am unused to having my word questioned."

"Well," said Nicohorus. "I apologize. I ... question everything, these days."

"If the word of an Lord of an allied clan is insufficient for you, My Lord of Bones, then I am truly sorry. Why, if you have so little trust to extend, did you permit me to do research in your library, then?"

"I find trust is a extensible concept, Lord Fog. I trust a person to be that person, and you are a fine researcher. I could wish you were a subtler politician."

"And I could wish for a pony," said Teodor.

"I'll get you an Ungoliant-trained pony," Nikohorus said. "Oh, but there's Dapple."

"My Lord of Bones, as you pointed out, I am who I am."

"So you are. My apologies."

"And your slur on Dapple - who I doubt very greatly asked to be what he is - is contemptible. My Lord of Bones."

Nikohorus looked away. "I did not mean to insult him."

"He does not take offense. I do."

"Then I beg your forgiveness."

Teodor was silent for a time. "I will try to forgive it, My Lord of Bones. But your plan to destroy humans to ... well, it makes it difficult for me to believe you feel the nature of the offense."

"They are war-captives."

"Humans."

"As long as we are wishing, Lord Fog, I could wish I had your latitude to be idealistic, but I do not, and if you do, I would invite you to consider it is Ourouborous's sacrifices in that regard that keep us - and Lycaili - safe. I do not seek forgiveness for fulfilling my responsibilities," Nikohorus ground out.

"For myself, I do not wish such protection. I am Lycaili, and am willing to die so," Teodor said quietly. "Means lead to ends, My Lord of Bones, and down that road is ... Scylla and Xarbydis. It is no fit road for us."

"We ... disagree," Nikohorus said.

"Yes," said Teodor.

They were silent for the remainder of the journey.

The guards went through the portal ahead of Sasha and Dacien, one at a time, the Brother being the last to leave poisoned Xarbydis. Dacien watched Sasha step through, waited a moment, and then followed his Master.

Dacien saw instantly how the ambush must have happened, from the motionless minotaur laying out neatly in the crushed lavender. Hector and Bryant were battling six other white-and-black minotaur in a back-to-back blur, Chelm and Milos were - somehow - defending the gate itself. Sasha looked stunned, but Dacien could feel Sasha's magic like a thick cloying miasma, roiling around the fight, and the small brown minotaur had not been targeted yet; he was cowering, looking helpless, and then the magic rebounded on him a moment after Dacien stepped out - a sharp, cold and precise power sliced through Sasha's fog like a torch burning away mist, coming from ...

Dacien had just enough time to see that, and watch Chelm's sword slice through one of the attackers before that sharp cold magic snapped over him like the ocean closing over a thrown rock.

Teodor stepped out of the carriage at the gate, only to find himself and the Lord of Bones surrounded by their now-expanded guard. "We have orders, Lord Fog, My Lord of Bones."

"Can you share them with us?" asked Teodor, a little sharply.

"We are to wait for the Regent."

"Here?"

"He should be ..."

"Here?" asked Xavien. "I am here; I have been waiting. Anxiously." The ebon minotaur took out a small flask, and took a sip. "There is only a limited amount of time before the Confirmation. My Lord of Bones, I am honored and I greet you in my name, and that of my Master, who will be confirmed ..." Xavien paused. "In less than an hour, I think."

"But you cannot tell me who it is."

Xavien shrugged. "The Council of Generals agreed to keep its counsel on the matter, and the Regent - which is to say, my very self, graciously agreed. And thus the matter has the force of law, and none of us, Regent, Lord Mage, or General, is above the law." Xavien did a half-bow to the Lord of Bones, who simply stared at him with astonishment.

"Regent," said Teodor.

"Please, call me Xavien. I am sick of hiding behind titles and offices."

"Xavien, are you well?"

"Never better," and then Xavien paused. "But no, never worse, not better, worse. I have misjudged my stamina, I think." A look of concern crossed his face. "Badly, I think. But I can still play Regent, until noon, at which point ... I can return to my own troubles."

"Xavien, may I touch you?" Teodor said cautiously. "With magic, I mean."

"Ah, you want to test me, do you?"

"Yes, I do. Very much."

Xavien laughed. "You will find nothing, Te - I may call you that, mayn't I? I know Oz does."

"My friends call me Te, and ... I would be happy to count you among them. But ..."

"Ah, but me no buts, Te," Xavien said with a deep giggle.

"Lord Regent," started Nikohorus.

"My Lord of Bones!" said Xavien, loudly. "I have placed you in a box in our Auditorium, if you will be good enough to share with Ambassador Corrigan. And an honor guard to escort you!"

"I ..." Nikohorus sighed. "Thank you, Lord Regent. I trust I will see you after the Confirmation?"

"I wouldn't," said Xavien jovially. "I think I'll be under arrest." He paused, and added, "Probably not longer than a week or two, though, if you can wait that long."

"I do not think that will be possible," said the Lord of Bones, in a neutral tone. "Until we meet again, then."

"Until then," Xavien said cheerfully. He watched as the guard split, Nikohorus' minotaurs and half the additional Lycaili guard going with the Ourouborous speaker, and then turned to Teodor. "Glad you're here."

"Xavien, what are you taking?"

"Taking?" The Regent sounded confused for a moment.

"You are drugged."

"Oh, oh," said Xavien. "Yes, that's right. I'm drugged. Great stuff. Want some?" He pulled out a silver flask, and offered it to Teodor.

Teodor took it, sniffed it, and then tasted it. "I have no idea what this is, other than having a lot of wintergreen."

"Xapaline," Xavien said. "Great stuff."

"Xapaline ..." echoed Teodor. "Are you making decisions while you're on this?"

"I'm the Regent," Xavien said. "But ..." he thought for a moment. "Not many," he said. "Ruus and Zachiah have been making most of them." He took a sip from the flask. "The more of this I'm on, the less decisions I seem to have to make."

"It's addictive."

"Unless you're an earth-mage," said Xavien. "In which case you can enjoy it free from withdrawal."

"It's also euphoric, and a hallucinogen. Why on earth are you taking it?"

"I couldn't sleep," Xavien said, pulling on Teodor's arm lightly. "Come on, we need to get to the Auditorium. Your formal robes are there."

"Yes," said Teodor, "you're coming with me?"

"Sure," said Xavien. "I have to be there too, after all."

"Yes," said Teodor. "Why are you taking this?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Xavien said. "I don't have time. Can't think about it. Got to be Regent."

"Xavien, why is the Regent drugged to the point of incoherence?"

"I ..." and there was silence as they walked down a corridor, preceded and followed by their guard. "I wasn't taking so much to start. I couldn't sleep. I had to sleep, but I couldn't. So I asked Yuri to make me something."

"Yuri - an apothecary?"

"Yes. Worked for Cresphontes. Gave me ..."

"Xapaline."

"No, no, he gave me ..." Xavien thought for a moment. "Sumadros. Just made it worse. Then we tried, uh, another couple of things, before the Xapaline. But the Xapaline works great. I can't even remember ..." he paused. "Something."

"And the Speaker and General Zachiah have been running things since then?"

"No, no, I'm running things," Xavien said. "I'm the Regent. But they've been helping, a lot."

"Oh. We sent all the air mages out of Lycaili, didn't we."

"Me and Cresphontes, sure did."

"In retrospect that might have been a poor decision," Teodor said. "Xavien, as your brother and Lord Fog, I need you to stop taking the Xapaline."

"Need it," Xavien said.

"I'll help you. You won't need it. Clear the physical effects from your body - you can do that, right?"

"Of course I can," Xavien said, huffily. "But ..."

"I will help you, Xavien. I don't know what happened, but I will help you."

"I'm not sure you can," Xavien said, slowly. "But ..."

"I give you my word as Teodor."

Xavien smiled down at the gray figure beside him. "Just as Teodor?"

Teodor sighed. "Ultimately, that's who I am, the most bedrock promise I can give, based on myself."

"I hope you can, Te. It's ... bad." Xavien started to take another sip, but dropped his arm as Teodor took the flask.

"I think you'll need to come down a little for the Confirmation," Teodor said. "Did someone suggest you meet me?"

"Both Ruus and Zach did," Xavien said. "Maybe I have been taking a little too much of this ... are you doing something to me?"

"Yes," said Teodor instantly. "I am."

"I ..."

"Xavien, I will help you. You're not making decisions, and you're not functioning as Regent. Ruus and Zach are, because you can't. I don't know why, but ... whatever's wrong, I'll help you cope."

"Cope ..." said Xavien, sounding more serious. "Wait, the drug ... what are you doing? How are you ..."

"I'm taking it out of your system slowly," said Teodor. "And I won't let you crash."

"No, please, Te, not until after ..."

"No, you need to get out of my mind," Xavien said.

"I ... I see. Very well, Regent."

"No, Te, it's ... there are things ... I can't, really, truly cannot ..."

"I cannot read your thoughts, Xavien," Teodor said. "I can feel your emotions, and lend you my own control, but reading thoughts ... is very difficult. I can make you hear my voice, and if you subvocalize, I can hear that, but your secrets are safe from me. You have my word, and ... it distresses me to see you in pain, when I could help."

"No pain," said Xavien, lifting the flask. "None at all."

"If you were not in some agony of recollection you would toss that flask away, but ... I cannot help you if you forbid it, Regent."

Xavien nodded. "After ... after the confirmation, if you still wish. No, do not give me your word, I will not take it, and I release you from your word to me."

"Because of the matter of being under arrest? What have you done?"

The ebon minotaur looked away. "I beg you, Te, on whatever feeling you have for me, do not press this question now."

"And yet, I feel a responsibility in ..." started Teodor, but Xavien interrupted him.

"On my word, it may wait."

"Your word is good enough for me," Teodor said, after a moment. "I shall wait."

"Thank you," Xavien said gravely, and looked at the flask. "You've filtered it out of my blood, haven't you?"

"Yes. I'm afraid you were ... drunk. Is it truly the only way you could sleep?"

"Yes," said Xavien. "I have failed more terribly than I could ever have imagined."

"I find that ... well, if you say so, it is so, but I do not understand. Would another perspective ... ah, forgive me. I agreed I would wait."

"No, that's another matter. If it will distract you I will happily relate it."

"Only you, Xavien, would unthinkingly offer up the tale of how you failed more terribly than you could imagine as a distraction."

"I failed to protect Lathe," Xavien said. "You met him - my feral lens, ..."

"With the signature of provoking anger, yes, I recall. But how ..."

"They killed him, along with Cresphontes. He wasn't a threat, just ... in the room, I suppose, and in their way." A hint of pain leaked through Xavien's voice. "I had already failed him, Teodor, in the matter of his signature. And then, serving me, he found death."

"You would have died to protect him."

"No," said Xavien. "I would have put - did put - Cresphontes first, and I failed him, too." The ebon minotaur let out a short bark of laughter. "I failed a slave who looked to me for protection, and then I failed my clan Patriarch, Teodor, I could not save either one. And then how am I treated? How am I censured? I am made ... Regent." The title escaped from Xavien with bitterness. "I took it, because nobody else did. Somebody should have stepped up, but nobody did ..."

"Somebody ..." asked Teodor, sounding confused.

"There is protocol for such things," Xavien said. "It is a matter for the senior Generals; a senior General appoints himself acting Regent, with a mandate of confirming an actual Regent, who then oversees the more serious matter of selecting the next Patriarch. We do not discuss it with ... those who have not yet proven themselves as Generals."

"It is what makes a senior," Teodor said. "It seems sensible."

"Supposedly the protocol was instituted by Lycail himself," Xavien sighed. "But the acting Regent is forbidden to voice his opinions on the matter of a Regent, and neither acting nor final Regent may themselves be confirmed as Patriarch. And so ... I was made Regent. I did not want it. All I wanted was to mourn Cresphontes and Lathe ..."

"I would imagine either position is quite busy," said Teodor.

"You imagine rightly," Xavien said, pausing to salute a guard at a door. "We're in the Auditorium here. Below it, in fact. There's a dressing chamber for us. Where was I? Busy, yes. So at first the sleeping problem ... did not concern me. But ..."

"It became so," said Teodor.

"Yes. I started to ... lose control. Easily. And I was - am - the Regent of Lycaili, I cannot do such a thing. But ..."

"Sasha is on pilgramage, Ianthos is being diplomatic and I was in Ourouborous."

"Yes. So ..."

"You tried these."

Xavien nodded. "And it worked well, at first, I think. It's only been in the last day or so that ... I was unable to judge how much I needed properly."

The gray minotaur nodded. "I see. But why didn't Ruus do something?"

"I ordered him not to."

"Ah," said Teodor, and they went down a stair. "But ... why didn't you order me not to, then?"

"Would you have obeyed?"

"I ..." Teodor paused. "For a minute or two, until I thought better of it."

"I guessed as much," said Xavien, sighing. "It's important, when giving orders, to give order that will be obeyed. And the converse is that it's unwise to give orders that will be refused. No point in giving you an order that you would have decided ... was not in Lycaili's best interest."

"Then I thank you for not putting me in such a position." Teodor paused, and looked at the bright green robe a slave was presenting him with dislike. "I am to wear this?"

"Yes," said Xavien. "And we need to get up on stage, so please, don't make me argue about it."

"I ... no, I beg your forgiveness. It is unkind of me to complain, especially when you are wearing ... that." Teodor waved a hand at a set of armor covered in brilliantly dyed silk. "I assume that's yours."

"It is. It has to reflect my status as mage and general, thus, armor and silk."

"The colors are ... eyecatching," Teodor said. "It does make me feel better about this green. Although I think I will look like a lime."

"Yes." Xavien stared at his for a moment. "But at least you can take some consolation that you are not a parrot."

"A parrot ... yes, actually, it does remind me of a parrot."

"Still," said Xavien, "it occurs to me that we are mages."

"We are," Teodor said.

"And you have a well-known signature ..."

"Are you suggesting that I ... alter the colors?"

"No, I'm merely observing that ... if, and I do say if, your signature were to affect our garb, it would hardly be something anyone could object to."

"True," said Teodor. "It would be unfortunate, but ... inevitable. Given enough time."

"It would be. After all, a signature is always active, is it not?"

"If it were confined to ... say, our clothing, then, at least, nothing else would be so ... affected," mused Teodor.

"True," said Xavien. The ebon minotaur paused. "We need to get up there, soon."

"Agreed," said Teodor, divesting himself of his gray clothing for the more formal green robe.

"I think ... now is the right time to tell you of the ... other thing," Xavien said, quietly. "Privacy?"

"Privacy," said Teodor, putting up a shell of silence. "What is it?"

"Your word that you will do nothing until after the Confirmation."

"If you need it."

"I broke the Truces." Teodor froze, and Xavien continued. "I deliberately broke the Truces of Xarbydis. I knew ... I was on the very edge, but I stepped over, Te."

"That's ... what did you do?"

"I made a mage-blade," Xavien said. "I enchanted a blade, and it cut through normal steel like you would slice cheese. It's the only reason I - we - survived the assassination attempt. The ninja ... were unable to effectively adapt to a situation where their swords were unable to stop mine. I was hurt, but they kept trying to parry ... and so they died."

"Is that a violation of the Truces?"

"Using a mage-blade in battle?"

"Assassination is, I think, not battle."

"Creating mage-blade?"

"There ... well, that might be a violation," Teodor agreed. "But I think I'd want to read them carefully and see exactly what they say."

"Equivocation," said Xavien. "I made a mage-blade, and used it. I have violated the spirit if not the letter of the Truces, and I suspect I've broken the letter as well."

"I will need to consider this. You will need to confess this to the Council, you know."

"It is ... a problem," Xavien acknowledged. "I am releasing my spell."

"Mine, too."

"My armor seems to have gone gray," said Xavien.

"Ah. My apologies. My signature, as you know."

"I see your robes are still green."

"How long that lasts is anyone's guess, Lord Regent."

The Grand Lycaili Auditorium was large, but it was meant for no more than a few hundred minotaur. Every seat was filled, save for the Patriarch's Throne behind the assembled Generals and the four mages, Lord Run, Lord Chimes, the Regent (Xavien having decided to stand with the mages rather than the Generals), and Lord Fog. Lord Chime's guard and the Lord Regent's Guard were standing throughout the Auditorium, and the minotaurs of Lord Fog's guard were there, as well, forming a line across the base of the auditorium. The dias itself had the remainder of the Patriarch's Guard, as well as thirty-odd senior Generals.

The dull rumble of conversation faded to silence as Lord Regent Xavien held up his hands. "My clanmates," he said. "We are here to confirm our next Patriarch." His voice, magically amplified, echoed slightly in the huge stone vault. "The choice was not easy. We had the advantage of the wisdom of Cresphontes, who, even in his passing, left us with a short - very short - list of candidates he recommended to our attention. We discussed each one, and I tell you that any of them would have been a good choice."

"But these are not ordinary times, and a good choice is not good enough." Xavien paused, and then continued. "Our challenges are extraordinary. These times are extraordinary, and we knew we needed an extraordinary Patriarch. We require a Patriarch who can find his way not only through the known, but someone who relishes the unknown. Someone who can find a path through the new grounds we find ourselves on, someone prepared to map the mysteries and strange events that are upon us."

"Such a bull would be a rare find, but we needed more," Xavien continued. "In a time of distrust and suspicion, we needed a bull of integrity, someone who has never turned from his duty, someone willing to accept the crushing responsibility of Lord of Lycaili. I have shouldered this burden for less than a fortnight, and it crushes me. I lay it down, to be taken up by the eighteenth Lord of Lycaili."

Xavien turned to the Generals, and then back to the mages, and Teodor saw the quick flash of an amused grin twist itself across Xavien's face. The next words though, made him startle in amazement.

"Lord Patriarch Teodor, I deliver Clan Lycaili into your hands. Use us well and gently, My Lord." Xavien, followed by the Generals and Lord Chimes and Lord Run, kneeled, even as the audience kneeled.

Teodor simply stared out into the audience, raggedly kneeling as well, and within a moment, every minotaur in the Auditorium was kneeling, facing their new Patriarch.

Him.