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Cold Blood Chapter Eight The End of Peace by Onyx Tao * * *

I, Dacien by Onyx Tao is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Permissions beyond the scope of this license may be available at http://onyx-tao.sofurry.com. * * * "Explain this, please." The over-controlled voice of Lord Fog penetrated Dacien's light sleep, but he was really woken by Five, who had disentangled himself from the human to take the position of sit in front of the Lord of Tongs. The gray minotaur stood like a threatening storm cloud next to the Lord of Tongs. Dacien wasn't sure whom Teodor was talking to - it might have been Luzeil, or Five, or even Dacien himself. He rose as quickly as he could; it wasn't as fast as Five might move, but it was fast for a human. Almost without thinking, he, too, took the position of sit in front of Lord Fog. "I didn't say sit, I asked for an explanation," said Lord Fog, in a level, over-controlled voice. "What's to explain? We left two slaves together, without explicit instructions, and I don't see a problem," Luzeil said calmly, breaking into the conversation much like the sun his coloration resembled. "Other than that they were in my bed, of course." The golden minotaur stretched out his arms, and yawned. "My, it's late," he exclaimed in a falsely expansive tone. Teodor looked down at Dacien, and then the motionless Five, and was silent. The Lord of Tongs shook his head - careful, as always, not to catch his horns on the tent walls. "Master," asked Dacien hesitantly, after the silence had lengthened, "did I something wrong?" A pained look shadowed Luzeil's gold-burnished muzzle, but the question seemed to cause the tension to drain out of Lord Fog. "No," said the gray minotaur heavily. "You did nothing wrong. I presume ... this one did nothing wrong either." Teodor turned to fix his intent stare on the golden minotaur lounging to his side. "Luz. This falls on you, Luz. Why didn't you tell me you had a minotaur slave?" "You didn't ask," Luzeil said lightly. "Can we go to bed?" Teodor just looked at him. "It's not that important," the golden minotaur said, with a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Besides, I thought it would be funny." "Funny," echoed Teodor, humorlessly. "Yes. Hilarious." "Five's a slave. Your human is a slave, however poorly behaved." Now the golden muzzle twisted in sincere irritation. "Both were at leisure. I do not see a problem here." "No," sighed Teodor. "No. There is no ..." he paused, and looked over at Five. "This is designated Five ?" "Yes. Yours?" "Slave," Teodor said shortly. "I do not ..." "Yes," said Luzeil, interrupting him. "For once, that's exactly correct. You have absolutely no right to come in here, upset Five, bark at me for a perfectly reasonable question, or in general any excuse for this exercise in petulance." "Petulance?" said Teodor angrily, and then the gray chest expanded in a deep breath. "Petulance?" "Petulance," repeated Luz. "Consider. What's happened has happened; no matter how upset you are, that won't change. If you want to change how these two interact - so instruct Slave. Anything else, Te, is petulance. As you're well aware." The Lord of Tongs tilted his head. "And ... it's unlike you," Luzeil continued. "Anthante, apologizing to Ox ... and now this." He stepped carefully over to the bed, sat, and then lowered himself to a laying position. "Not the Teodor I remember, at all." "Perhaps the demands of my position are causing me to misjudge my actions," Teodor said. "No they're not," Luz said, staring up at the ceiling of the tent. "Or rather, I find that unlikely. You, my friend, never panic, never take alarm, you're always ten moves ahead of everyone else." "I'm flattered at your belief in my imperturbability, but I fear it is somewhat exaggerated." The golden minotaur laughed, a loud oddly bovine snort. "No, my friend, it means ... there's still something you're not telling me." "Many things," said Teodor, with a hint of irritation. "Mostly trivial. Are you interested in what I had for breakfast? For the color of the walls in the solarium at Mistingrise?" "Not gray?" "Of course gray," snapped Teodor. "And now ... you're diverting me. Offering me bait." Luzeil smiled. "I am? I had no idea I was so manipulative." The golden head rose a few inches, and all traces of amusement had vanished. "Bullshit. You don't use coercion, but you use it to tell you exactly how to direct a conversation. You're a consummate manipulator, Teodor Lord Fog. Whether you do it consciously or not is irrelevant. I'm afraid I have lot more experience being ... misdirected, now that I'm the Lord of Tongs, and I've gotten quite good at not being sidetracked. Why ... or rather, what agenda do you have that connects killing Anthante, apologizing to Ox, and being upset at finding your ... "A minotaur slave," Luzeil said suddenly. "You asked, not why I didn't tell you I had a slave, but why not a minotaur." "If I am so brilliant, why am I so confused? What agenda? What are you talking about?" "Oh," said the Lord of Tongs. "You know, as a Lord, I see a lot of manipulation. I know when someone's pulling on my nose ring. And you, beloved, are." The gray minotaur just stood there. "I appreciate ... your ..." he paused, searching for words. "Confidence, yes, that I'm so adept at this. But what can I do to convince you I'm not?" "Tell me what you're hiding. What's so upsetting about this human laying with a ..." The Lord of Tongs stopped, and got up, slowly. "Teodor. I just had this nonsane idea." "Your honor is pledged to your silence, and I would expect that to hold doubly for nonsane speculation," Teodor said. "Whatever it is. I admit to some curiosity, but ... can it not wait until we are private?" "Five is reliable; yours?" "Yes, of course, but that's not relevant." The Lord of Tongs turned to look at Dacien, carefully. "I can think of a reason it's relevant," he said seriously. "Teodor, you can't do that. You can't." "I daresay I have no idea what you're discussing, and I'm equally certain that I do not take direction from Ourobouros." "You gave me your word you'd bring no feral human mage ..." Luzeil said. "How remarkably specific." He looked back at the gray minotaur. "Teodor! You cannot do that." He paused. "My Lord of Tongs!" interrupted Teodor. "I must ask you to cease this speculation. It is distressing me. "I'm right," whispered Luzeil, with almost a look of shock. "How ... it hasn't ..." "Luzeil!" shouted Teodor. "For your honor's sake, be silent! If you must think, then do it silently!" The golden minotaur shot Teodor a hurt look, and then, without a word, walked out. Teodor watched him go, and sagged down onto the bed, and just sat, motionless. He put his hands onto his horns, and slowly rubbed them. "Sir?" asked Five. "Yes?" sighed the gray minotaur. "I ... I'm an accomplished masseuse, Sir." "Thank you," Teodor said heavily, and then said nothing for another long pause. Dacien felt the strain of the position start to tell on him, but ... if Five could stay like that, so could he. Finally Teodor spoke, but without raising his head. "Five. It would please me if you would clean Da - my human. He is covered with seed ... is ... it his?" "No, Sir, it's mine." "Do you have a basin? Bring ..." Five was standing respectfully by the gray minotaur. He finally put his hands down, and stared at the empty basin. Gray snaked out from the minotaur, eddied around the tent and reached outside as the basin filled slowly with water. "Is that sufficient?" asked Teodor. "Yes, Sir." "Proceed, then. Stand. Slave." "Yes, Master," Dacien said, standing to let the black-mottled minotaur clean him. "Slave, this is ... did you ... I must know," Teodor sighed. "Did you take any of ... Five's humours - fluids - within yourself? Seed? Anything ... else?" "No, Master." Dacien said. Teodor seemed to relax a little, but only a little. "It is my desire - command - that you do not do so. Not Five, nor any other minotaur, save myself. Do you understand, and will you comply?" "I understand what you're saying, Master, and I will do as you desire," Dacien said. "But ... it would help if I understood why, Master." "It would," agreed Teodor softly, finally raising his head. "But," he sighed. "It is not that I do not trust you. It is that I trust no one else. And ... and I know I ask much of you." He paused, and turned to the other minotaur, carefully sponging the human clean. "Five." "Sir," the minotaur acknowledged him. "It pleases me that you do not share fluids with my human. I lay that on you, as well as him." "Yes, Sir," the minotaur said, and then again, "Sir." "It pleases me that you shall not speak of my conversation with him, or you, excepting your Master's explicit pleasure, and your duty to him." "Yes, Sir." "You wanted to say something?" "Sir. I heard you ..." he paused. "Let your human know your desires. I would not ..." "No," said the gray minotaur said. "I didn't think you would. I am sorry if I seemed to question that." "Thank you, Sir. Sir." "Yes, Five?" "Is it permissible if I share his fluids, Sir?" The gray minotaur blinked, and looked a little taken aback. "I ... let me think, Five." The gray minotaur was quiet for a few moments, his hand twitching somewhat. "Honor," he said softly. "Five, I need to know two things. First, do you wish to ... share his fluids? Or is it only that it would please me - or My Lord of Tongs?" The black and white minotaur did not stop his work while replying. "It would please me, Sir, and him." "Very well. Secondly, I assume that My Lord of Tongs treats you well." "Of course!" "That said, are you pleased belonging to My Lord of Tong?" Five stopped cleaning Dacien, laying the basin and cloth aside. He moved gracefully to his knees, and bent his head to the floor. "Forgive me, Sir, but that is not a question I should be asked, nor should I answer it." "True," said Teodor. "I know. Answer me." "I will not, Sir." "You will," the minotaur said inexorably. "No, Sir." Teodor nodded, as if the answer had been expected. Again, it happened at that peculiar minotaur speed that Dacien couldn't quite grasp - one moment, the gray minotaur was Teodor, relaxed, comfortable ... not threatening, or at least as nonthreatening as five hundred pound minotaur could be. The next, he'd dropped to one knee, and had hold of Five's truncated horns, and twisted - Five gave an involuntary cry as he flipped on his back; Teodor's - no, Lord Fog's, Dacien thought - knee at his throat and Five's head held forward by the gray minotaur's grip. "I find you disobedient, and that displeases me greatly, minotaur slave. Have you given your name to My Lord of Tongs?" "No, Sir," Five said, his breathing a little strained from Teodor's weight. He wasn't, Dacien noticed, fighting at all, and ... he'd - yes, he'd have had to turn himself over, when the other had started to turn him. "Has he asked you for it?" "No, Sir," the pinned minotaur said, tonelessly. "Would you give it to him?" "Yes, Sir." The answer sounded almost defiant. And then Teodor was standing again, Five still on his back, on the rough green fibers of the flooring. "Don't just lay there. Carry on." And then Five had the cloth in hand, and resumed cleaning the human, as if nothing had happened. Dacien wondered, briefly, what really had happen, but he had no time to consider it, since Teodor turned to him immediately. "Dacien," Teodor said. The black and white minotaur stiffened - a momentary thing that Dacien noticed only as a slight hesitation, a stroke of the cloth that happened too slowly. "I must ask - beg - you to continue to trust me," Teodor said softly, either not noting, or, more likely, ignoring, Five's reaction. "It is difficult; I have not been forthcoming, and I will be ... less so, I think, in the near future. I will explain ... more, when we are back at Mistingrise. But until then, everything is perilous. For you, for me, for us. My first concern, of course, is for my clan, always, that is the first responsibility of every clan member. Do not doubt that you are my second, Dacien." "I don't, Master," Dacien said. He paused. "I'm supposed to say yes or no, in public, I mean." "Generally, unless the question calls for an explanation." "Then ... how would I answer something like that?" "Ah," said Teodor, regaining a little of his former lightness. "You wouldn't. There was no question there." Lord Fog began to take off his clothes. "It's a little warm in here, do you think?" "A little, Master," Dacien said. "Do you mind if I cool this tent down, Five?" "No, Sir." "Let me rephrase that. Would you be more comfortable if it were cooler, Five?" "Yes, Sir," Five said, putting the basin down. "Sir." "Yes?" "May I dump the water, Sir?" "Yes." Teodor paused. "And going forward, if you wish to ask me a question, please just ask it." "Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." Five rose and made his way over to the door. "Come back quickly, please," Teodor added. "Yes, Sir," and the minotaur was gone. A burst of gray and chill and something filled the tent; expanded around it just slightly, and Dacien did feel the late-evening heat fading gently. "There. We're private now," Teodor said briskly. "I've been thinking about how best to train you. Lensing is clearly not a good solution, given the, well, whatever it was. I would like to experiment more with that, but ... not as a starting point. I think your ability to sense magic, however, is interesting. I'd like you to try more of that, sensing. I don't want you to touch anything, or attempt to interfere with anything you sense. Just look. Get used to the feel of magic, I suppose. Let us see what happens with ..." Teodor paused. "Dacien? I feel that I do not have your undivided attention." "I didn't know there were minotaur slaves," Dacien said, staring after the departed minotaur. "There aren't many," Teodor said. "It's an option for captured warriors, in an inter-clan fight, but ... it's unusual." "He said he was sold from his war-college, before he graduated." "Really," breathed Teodor. "Did he say which clan?" "He said he didn't belong to a clan. And ..." Dacien paused. "I don't know if I should tell you this, Master. He talked to me about ... his relationship. With Lu - the Lord of Tongs." Teodor nodded approvingly at Dacien's self-correction. "It's up to you. Do you feel he was talking in confidence to you?" Dacien shook his head. "I don't know. I mean, when you asked him, he got ..." Dacien's voice trailed off. "It was an improper question to put to him," Teodor admitted. "He behaved admirably. I was impressed. But you are not he, and he knows that you are mine, so he would have to expect that what I asked, you would answer." The gray minotaur paused. "Although he might not have expected that I would ask. Few do." The minotaur stretched. "Let me resolve the issue for you: I already know he is not pleased with his current master." "How did you, well, know?" Teodor smiled sadly. "He told me. If he were pleased, he would have said so. There would be no dishonor to his master in admitting that, nor dishonor to him." Teodor explained. "That's the reason the question was so improper - there was no honorable way to answer it negatively and still be truthful. It ... clashed directly with his honor." "Slaves have honor?" "Of course," Teodor said, sounding surprised. "How could they not have honor? It is, I grant, a different kind of honor. A slave is bound to obey his master, and his honor is how well he does that. Five is, as far as I can tell, very honorable. I shall test him, later, and see ... just how pure that honor is." "Master? Why?" "Because, whether he was aware of it or not, he asked me for help." Teodor's muzzle twisted into an expression Dacien could not read. "And I ... I must grant that help, if it is within my power. He asked, if you recall, if he could ..." "Share my fluids," Dacien said. "Yes. Please try not to interrupt, Dacien. I understand that it's a typical convention among the Empire, but here, it's rude." "I'm sorry, Master." "Not to worry," said the minotaur, glancing at the door. "There's some time yet before you will need to be adept at negotiating formal etiquette. I intend to hold you to higher and higher levels of behavior; so that you will learn it. As each new custom becomes habitual, you'll find yourself civilized in a surprisingly short time." The gray minotaur glanced at the door, as if afraid the minotaur under discussion might return unexpectedly. "Five asked me for something that, strictly speaking, his master ought to have provided him. It might be taken that way, it might not. There was certainly no intended slight to the Lord of Tongs, and there might have been none. And so I ... probed." Dacien nodded, and received an approving smile from the gray minotaur. "And discovered he is not happy with his current owner." "Exactly," said Teodor. "But not willing to admit it to me. Very proper. Perhaps a bit too proper, actually. If he doesn't ..." Whatever else the gray minotaur was planning on saying stopped as the door parted, and Five returned, empty basin in hand. He walked over the to bed, and resumed the kneeling position. The gray minotaur quietly stripped his clothes off, and got into bed. "Dacien?" The human crawled in beside Teodor. "Uh, Master, what about .... um, the Lord of Tongs?" "He will get in on the other side, I presume," Teodor said. "Use the, as in 'the Lord of' when you're discussing him in the third person. My is used when addressing him directly. Although you can just say Sir." "Thank you, Master." Dacien waited for a moment, but Teodor seemed actually interested in sleep. "Master?" "Can it wait until tomorrow?" Dacien took a deep breath, redolent with the pine-resin scent of the minotaur next to him. "I was wondering about Five. Master." "Five's disposition is the responsibility of the Lord of Tongs, not mine. Sleep well." "Yes, Master." The Lord of Tongs returned - later, and woke Dacien. Teodor either didn't wake, or didn't say anything; Dacien was unsure. As Teodor had predicted, Luzeil got into bed - on the other side after dismissing Five, who went out into the other section of the tent. Dacien felt sorry for him, and drifted off to sleep, wondering why Luzeil would be so dismissive of him. Maybe, he wondered, that was typical - or more typical, anyway - of minotaur treatment of slaves than Teodor's considerate care. Morning came soon, as bells were rung before dawn. Dacien, Teodor, and Luzeil got out of bed to find breakfast waiting for them - or at least for Teodor and Luzeil. Dacien ate from a plate on the floor, to the left of his Master, and Five, he noted, was not invited to eat at all, simply standing behind Luzeil as he ate. "We'll be moving," was all Luzeil said to his slave. "Pack the fragile things," before he turned to Teodor. "I do want to apologize for last night," Luzeil said to Teodor. "I got a little ... upset. I don't approve, but of course ... you are perfectly free to ignore my disapproval." "Thank you," Teodor said gravely. "I know. I'm not sure I would be quite so daring if not for Lord Chimes's presentiment, and ... other events." "I trust you had a pleasant evening, and slept well?" "I slept well. I must report I found your slave disobedient, and willful." "Five?" asked the golden minotaur, with almost a stunned expression. "Five! Is this true?" "Yes, Master," the black-and-white minotaur said from behind him, very quietly. Luzeil turned to stare at him, disbelief in his eyes. "You disobeyed Lord Fog?" "Yes, Master," repeated Five, eyes downcast. "Knowingly?" added Luzeil. "Yes, Master." The black-and-white minotaur's voice was even quieter than before. "You know he's my personal guest as well as the envoy of Clan Lycaili?" "Yes, Master." Five dropped to both knees, and bent forward until his head touched the ground. "Teodor, I don't know what to say," Luzeil said, in a deep voice that mixed bafflement with just a touch of anger. "I apologize. I cannot believe that Five would ... fail me so." "Really?" "Yes!" Luzeil closed his eyes. "I'm deeply ashamed. Especially after lecturing you last night on the proper deportment of slaves." He paused. "What can I do?" "Sell him to me," suggested Teodor coldly. "What?" The golden minotaur sounded surprised. "Sell him to me," Teodor repeated, in that same emotionless tone. "I'll add him to my collection of imperfectly trained slaves." Only Dacien saw Five's flinch. "I can't sell a willful, disobedient slave!" The golden minotaur looked almost frantic. "Certainly you can. It's not as if I don't know what I'm buying. Did he even offer you his name?" "No," Luzeil said, sounding upset. "But still! It's ... not done!" Teodor sighed. "You asked me what you could do; I told you." "Ah," said Luzeil, reluctantly. "I'd love to please you, but ... the old Lord of Tongs left him to me." "And?" "And Basil was a good friend, and a mentor, and ... he was rather fond of this one." Luzeil shot a frustrated glance at the still-kneeling minotaur. "Perhaps his favor was mistaken." "Regardless, he deserves someone with the time to train him," Teodor said implacably. "Sell him to me." Luzeil looked back at Teodor. "Perhaps after I've punished him properly." "You intend to punish him?" "I think so!" exclaimed the golden minotaur. Five quivered on the floor, his stubbed horns sinking down a bit lower. "Well, I'll take on that, too," Teodor said calmly, looking at Five. "His behavior does require some response, and ... I think I am as well situated to give it as anyone. I will pay ... whatever you think he's worth." The gold minotaur just shook his head. "You'll buy him, you'll punish him, and ... take full responsibility?" "I will take full responsibility," Teodor said. "And I will punish him as he requires, and reward him as he deserves." "Very well," Luzeil said. "Ten thousand suns?" Dacien saw Five's shoulders droop again, as hard as the black and white minotaur was trying to remain still. "So little?" said Teodor, sounding surprised. "If I owned him, I wouldn't let him go for ten times that. Reconsider." "Twenty, then," Luzeil said. "He is a minotaur, after all." "So he is. A willful, disobedient one, I believe you said." "Yes. I won't go higher than twenty," Luzeil said. "Fifty? Not even fifty?" The golden head turned slowly as Luzeil looked down at his slave. "If ... no. I'm cheating you at twenty." "You said twenty, I won't let you back down," Teodor said, softly. "I was not jesting when I said I wouldn't let him go for even a hundred thousand suns. You are severely undervaluing him." Five stilled at that, all but a slight shake to his horns. "Twenty then. Say twenty, and it's done." "I'd say fifty," Teodor said. "Well, twenty thousand and fifty suns." "Twenty thousand and fifty suns," Teodor said. "But he's worth more." "Disobedient." It was a curse word, Dacien realized as he watched Five twitch at it. "Five, how were you disobedient?" said Teodor. "I refused to answer a question, Master." Five's voice was hesitant, coming up from the floor. "Get up, please. What question?" Teodor's voice had changed from cold to matter-of-fact. "I don't remember the words, Master," said Five, rising to look at his new Master. He was staring pleadingly at Teodor - Dacien realized he knew what Teodor was about to do, and ... didn't want it done? Dacien wondered why. Teodor had been pleased with Five's reaction last night, and now ... what? "Paraphrase, then," the gray minotaur said, denying the unspoken plea. "You asked me if I were pleased to belong to the Lord of Tongs, Master," Five said, sighing. "And did you answer me," Teodor continued. "No, Master." It was almost a whisper, and a proud declaration at the same time. Dacien watched the expression drain from Luzeil's face. "I believe I threatened you physically," Teodor said lightly. "Was that your recollection?" "Yes, Master," Five said, admitting nothing more than that. "What did I do?" "You turned me on my back by my horns, Master." "And you did not resist. And what did you say? A paraphrase, if you can't remember the exact words." "That ... that you should not ask me that question. Master." Luzeil had been looking back and forth from Teodor to Five during the interchange, and when Teodor turned to the now-silent Lord of Tongs, the golden minotaur looked away from him. "I've bought him. And I assure you, I would not part with him for twenty times what you said he was not worth." "I'm a fool," said Luzeil, facing away from Teodor. "No," said Teodor, almost reflexively. "I don't think you're suited to him." "I'm a fool," Luzeil repeated, shaking his head and almost hitting Five with his horns. "I can't believe I was lecturing you yesterday on the proper care of slaves!" The gray minotaur sighed gustily. "No hard feelings?" "No," sighed Luzeil. "It's fair. More than fair. I'm such a fool! Would you sell him back to me for a million suns?" Teodor smiled, and shook his head. "No. You don't need him, Luz, and ... I do. For my little project." "You're going to go through with it?" Luzeil asked, and then answered himself. "Of course you are. You're ... well. You're you. And you will." The golden minotaur considered Five broodingly. "Damn you. If you weren't such a brilliant manipulator ..." "Five asked me - inadvertently, to be sure - for help," Teodor said. "What could I do?" Luzeil sighed. "All right. But ... I want to know how it's done. You owe me that much, Teodor Lord Fog Lycaili. You owe me that!" Teodor shook his head, and then paused. "After I've done it - if I succeed - I'll tell you how. And how I figured it out. But ... I haven't tested it. I don't know that I'm right." "But you think you are." "Yes," said Teodor confidently. "I would not gamble so if I were less certain." The golden minotaur sighed. "You always loved your mysteries," he said. "I see you still do." "I prefer to dazzle with the finished solution," Teodor said, with a faint smile. "And it would. Dazzle. Will it not?" Luzeil just shook his head. "I think you may end wishing it were less dazzling, old friend. We should head on over to Orox's tent to see if there's anything last-minute." Teodor nodded. "As you say." He turned to the two slaves. "Five, please prepare the tent for packing. Dacien, please assist Five; he'll let you know what he needs you to do." Teodor paused for a moment. "Five, you and I will talk when events press me less closely; perhaps later today, perhaps tomorrow. I dislike putting it off, but ... events press me, and I lack the leisure I need to attend to you. Be assured that I will make the time." "Yes, Master." The gray minotaur turned to look at the human. "Please take direction from Five. I expect I'll be back shortly, but I distinctly recall saying that when we left Mistingrise, too" "Yes, Master," Dacien said, remembering the departure with a grin. "Shall we?" "Yes," sighed Luzeil, stepping through the divider, after Teodor. "I do want to talk to you privately about Orox's plan to ..." and his voice faded as the two minotaurs left the tent. The moment they were out of the tent, Five turned to Dacien. "Is he always like that?" "Like what?" "Like he knows everything, and what you're going to do next, and what everyone around him is going to do next? Is he really a ... you know." Dacien just looked a little confused. "Well, he's kind of like that, I guess. I ... don't know, really. And I really don't know what you're talking about." "He's an air-mage, isn't he?" "Yes," said Dacien. "That, yes, he is." "So ... is he a ... does he ..." the minotaur looked at Dacien, not wanting to finish the sentence. Dacien just shook his head. "I'm really sorry, Five, but ... all this magic is new to me. I didn't know that there was such a thing as air magic." "Well, you know what air magic does, don't you? Does he, use it on us? Although I can't imagine him using on Ma - the Lord of Tongs." Five grimaced. "I can't believe I've been sold. I can't believe he bought me." "Lightning bolts? Weather?" Five frowned. "No, that's - well, weather magic is water." Five started putting the plates into a straw hamper. "Lightning." He put a few more plates away. "I'd guess that would be fire magic. Air magic is the magic of the intangible. Mind-magic. Knowing what others are thinking. Putting thoughts into their minds. Controlling them, although ..." "That's why Anthante called Teodor a mindbender," Dacien said, suddenly enlightened. "SHHHH!" said Five, suddenly rigid with alarm. "Don't - do you want to be whipped!" "What did I do?" "General Anthante. Master. Not - it's not right to address him by his name. Not unless ..." "We're being intimate, right," Dacien said. He sat back down on the bed. "Sorry." "And that other word - what you said General Anthante called Master - it's offensive." Five paused. "I'm not sure I can explain it, but it implies the mage is using his magic irresponsibly to the detriment of his clan. That the mage is too weak and incompetent to act honorably. And that the mage is practicing - well, controlling someone's thoughts is ..." the minotaur paused again. "It's a dishonorable thing. There are some exceptions, but I guess that sort of magic is like using poison. In some very rare circumstances, poison is medicine. But most of time, it's just poison." "Oh," said Dacien, absorbing that. "I guess I thought ... but why wouldn't weather magic be air? Why water? Do you know much about magic?" "Just what everyone - or at least, every minotaur knows," Five said. "You don't?" "No. Tell me," Dacien said, interested. Five hesitated. "Will you tell me about our Master? What he likes, what he dislikes?" "I ..." Dacien paused. "I would. I'm ... I'm not sure I know. He ... I can tell you how he's treated me." "That would do," said Five. "Hold on. Let me ..." and the minotaur sprang into a blur, things vanishing, then the black-and-white haze would resolve itself into a minotaur again, going a little more slowly, and then back into the blur until everything was boxed. "There. Master - I mean, the Lord of Tongs - will collapse the tent himself, so ... we're done." He looked regretfully towards the bed, and then back at Dacien. "I don't know much about magic, we were just taught - in college, I mean - a little so we could understand what a mage could and could not do. Earth magic has control over things - if you can touch it, then it's the realm of earth. Making things stronger, or weaker, or floating them. Moving them. That's all earth magic." "Like making steel rope stronger," Dacien said, remembering. "Maybe," said Five, dubiously. "Although ... that might be changing something, too. Earth is good for healing, too, if you're weak or tired. Or sick. Water magic is the magic of change and changing - changing the weather, that's the example we got in school. Healing traumatic damage, like a cut or broken bones. Altering something's shape, that's change. I'd think that making something stronger would be change, so it sounds like water magic to me. Not that I'd know." "Okay," said Dacien. "Fire magic is all about creation and destruction - creating fire, or cold, or even small objects. There's some overlap with earth magic in that fire magic can also move things, but ... it's different, somehow, although we weren't told how. It wasn't important, we weren't doing it, just noting the results, so it was important to know that both could move things. "Air magic involves things that can't be touched - thoughts. Visions. Illusions. Intangible things, like honor or love or fear." Five tapped a finger thoughtfully against the table. "So air magic can make you perceive things that aren't there, or hide things that are. Or ... to affect your mind. Make you forget things, or remember things that didn't happen as if they did. Make you feel emotions you don't really have. But those last - that's," Five swallowed, and whispered, as if he were afraid he'd be overheard, "mindbending. Rape of the soul." "And ... there are the rumors about Master," Five said. "I ... I've heard some awful things. What really happened with General Anthante? I know ... I know Master killed him after challenging him to a duel, but ..." Dacien told him what happened, briefly. "Oh," said Five. "I thought Master was an air- and water- mage. That lightning had to be fire magic." "He know some of that, too," Dacien said. Five looked impressed. "That's ... most mages just have a single affinity. He must be very powerful. He lives in Mistingrise House." "Yes," said Dacien. "You've been there," said Five. "What's it like?" "I spent one night there," Dacien admitted. "We left in the morning. It was ... I don't know. Big. Square. Three, four levels, I'm not sure. Pretty nice. Really nice - well, it's better than anything in the Empire. Comfortable. I liked the beds. And the bathing-rooms. Everything was gray, though." He looked up at the minotaur. "Lord Fog hates the color gray. He sometimes refers to himself as 'washwater-colored.'" "So he really does bleach everything around him?" Dacien opened his mouth to say, yes, but ... and stopped. "That's his signature, he says." "Sort of like how the Lord of Tongs makes ..." and Five paused. He sniffed. He sniffed more deeply. The minotaur picked up the light green blanket on the bed, and held it to his nose, inhaling deeply. "That's odd," Five said, after putting it back down. "Usually ... usually everything smells of smoke." "Master said that was the Lord of Tongs' signature," Dacien said, feeling a sudden pang of guilt. It didn't seem right, somehow, to mislead this minotaur, even if he wasn't really lying. Five looked down at his pelt, with its strong black and white markings, and then back at Dacien. "You're ... you're a little gray," he said. From the night ... the night he'd tried to help. "Yes," Dacien said. "I'm hoping it will wear off." He paused, not sure of exactly what to say. Had - no, the other humans at Mistingrise hadn't been gray. It must have just been the proximity to that one spell. "I was really close to him while he was working very powerful magic," Dacien said. "I don't think I would have bleached if ... if I hadn't been there. None of the other slaves at Mistingrise were gray, although all their clothes were." He looked over at Five. "This - this was a fluke. I think it's even wearing off." Five just sighed. "It shouldn't matter to a slave," he said, almost wistfully. "I really should learn to stop trying ... to control anything. That's ... that's what being a slave means. Relinquishing control. If ... if I turn gray, I turn gray." He paused. "It's actually becoming. I've never seen that color before, except ..." He paused as a slight tremor shook him. "Except on a very old minotaur. And ... he was so old he didn't look healthy. Lord - I mean, Master looks healthy." "I suppose," Dacien said. The human looked around the tent. "Is this really ... packed? I mean, ..." "Yes," admitted Five. "It doesn't look it, but Mah - I mean, the Lord of Tongs, just collapses the tent. It all folds together, and he lifts it onto the care - by magic, I mean, not himself." He grimaced. "Anything the Lord of Tongs needs that I could do - or any slave could do - he can do himself, faster, and more to his liking," Five said regretfully. "And he does." "Oh," said Dacien. "You won't have that problem - I mean, we don't have that problem - with Lord Fog - our Master. He ..." the human paused. "He's been very kind to me," he said, finally. "I don't think ..." Dacien groped for words to explain himself, without touching on any of the things he oughtn't say. "I don't think ... he's been more considerate to me than anyone else. He's the most ... I don't know," Dacien said. "I can't explain it. I mean, I like him, and ... I'm attracted to him, but ... I don't know. If it's more than his being just a minotaur, I mean." "He ... he told you about that?" Five sounded surprised. "Yes," Dacien said, and then added, "I kind of guessed. And I asked, and he ... he told me about it." "You guessed?" Five sounded confused. "How ... how could you guess?" "It just, I don't know, seemed strange. Somehow. I mean, I've never been attracted to males, or ... uh, well, I'm not sure how to say this, but I've never really wanted to get intimate with a cow, either, and certainly not a bull and ... suddenly I was all ... well, wanting to get intimate with a bull." Dacien paused, and forced himself to be honest. "Or wanting a bull to get intimate with me. I suppose. So ... so I asked him, and Te - Master, I mean, explained." "Oh," said Five. "Were ... were you mad?" Was he? Dacien hadn't even really thought about it. Was he mad? No, but ... should he be? Should he have gotten upset? Would he have gotten upset? If what Teodor had told him was true - and Dacien had no doubt that it was, could he have been upset? Only, he had been upset, he realized. Teodor had told him, in part, to make him less so. Did that matter? Dacien somehow managed to truncate all that down to a "No," and then he added, "I wasn't angry. I ... even if he'd told me earlier, I don't know if I'd have believed him. I mean, it works both ways, doesn't it?" "It does," Five said. "It's the way the creators wanted it. But it makes sense. I don't ..." he broke off. "I ..." he paused. "I'm sorry. I probably shouldn't be talking to you." "Why not?" asked Dacien. "Because ... because Master hasn't said we could," the black-and-white minotaur sighed. "And since I don't know ... I don't what he expects from me, I should assume nothing." "He won't mind," Dacien said automatically. "He'd have said so." "I knew the Lord of Tongs wouldn't mind, and ... well." Five said. "I thought you'd know if Lord - Master, I mean, would mind. But ... I don't know." "Didn't he tell me to take direction from you? To help you pack?" "I'm done packing," said Five, and then paused, shifting his head. "That's odd." "What?" "I don't hear ... the sounds of a camp being stowed," Five said. "If we're going to march out, then ... tents should be coming down, boxes and carts and crates - and I don't hear anything like that. It takes a lot to move an army." "It does," said Dacien, listening. And then he extended those new senses of his, outwards, encountering eddies and knots but ... there. The gray coolness of Lord Fog, mixed with the sweet-scented smoke of the Lord of Tongs, intertwined. "They're ..." doing magic, he would have said, but that would definitely be things he ought not talk about. "Yes?" "It is quiet," Dacien agreed. "So we just ... wait?" "Yes," said Five. "You get used to it. Or you find things to do while you wait. It's worse in a tent like this; there's not all that much to be done. In a house, there's always something that needs attention. Woodwork. Cleaning. Gardening. In a tent, once everything is put away, there's really not much else to do at all." "What did you do for the old Lord of Tongs?" Five smiled in remembrance. "He loved to have guests over," the black-and-white minotaur said. "He gave parties, two, three times a week. He invited everyone. The house was always busy - I was his personal servant. So his butler and I argued over place settings and napkins and menus and wines and ..." Five shook his head slightly. "He was a very good Master." "The current Lord of Tongs?" "Doesn't entertain," said Five. "He goes to a party, maybe once a month. He and his partner, Warlord Jervais, they were - are, really, stay-at-home. Quiet dinners for two. One footman - me. And then they'd retire for the evening, and ... the rest of us would clean the house. Not even a big house; three suites, servant's quarters, living rooms. Hardly even a room to give a party. Tiny little music room, tiny little dining room, tiny little parlor. Big study, for the Lord of Tongs, and a library. The Warlord didn't even have a salle there." "How ... how many slaves does he have?" "In town?" Five paused for a moment, counting mentally. "Six. Five now, of course, since ..." the minotaur smiled somewhat grimly. Dacien wondered momentarily at how he'd started to read the expressions of the bovine minotaurs. "Since he doesn't have me. So without Five, he has five." Dacien shared the grin, if not the amusement. "That ... is that a lot?" "Very few," said Five, "especially for a great lord like the Lord of Tongs. On the other hand, the house belongs to Warlord Jervais, not the Lord of Tongs. It's about right for a Warlord of ... moderate distinction. Not a general, I mean, or a great lord. Not that the Warlord isn't successful; he's young. He's only been a Warlord for about thirty years." "And the Lord of Tongs lives with him rather than the other way round?" "Yes," said Five. "The old Lord of Tongs has - had - a much larger house, but ... as far as I know, the Lord of Tongs doesn't have a house of his own." "So we just wait?" Five nodded, and lay down on the bed. "Armies are like that, in my experience." "Mine too," Dacien said, and lay down beside Five. The pine-resin smell of the minotaur next to him was oddly tempting, but Dacien forced the desire down; he knew what it was, nothing but sensation, and Dacien had found, over the past few days, that he could resist the smell. However wonderful it was. Instead, Dacien relaxed, and decided to do what Teodor had encouraged him to do. He didn't need to close his eyes, just ... concentrate. It was a different way of seeing, a different kind of sense that was a little like vision, a little like hearing, a little like tasting and not really like any of those. It was just ... Dacien gave up trying to categorize it, and focused on experiencing it. Every time he did this, it seemed like he could see - taste - experience - something - more. He was sensing the same things, but familiarity seemed to let him see - only it wasn't seeing - understand - only it certainly wasn't understanding - sense, he supposed, that was the only word that worked, sense more of what was there. He didn't pretend to understand it. That Teodor himself didn't understand it - the thought worried him at first. But then he just let the thought go, and felt ... he could feel whatever it was that Teodor and Luzeil were doing, in the distance. Here and there ... he could sense something. Small, faint, blots - no, not blots, more like patterns, or movements in patterns, or ... like a hole, through which a pattern shows, but the ... Five was such a ... a ... Dacien wasn't quite sure what to call it. It was like a window into another realm, one filled with patterns and lights and, well, magic, Dacien supposed. But Five wasn't the pattern itself, nor was the magic leaking from him ... it was just ... just ... Just a perception. As Five moved, the edges of the view changed, too, like seeing a different section of patterned tile, or looking through a window from the left, rather than the right. It was a little strange, and stranger still to realize that every one of those moving - views, portals, whatever they were - must represent a minotaur. Dacien decided to focus on Five. The sense was fuzzy; confused, like staring at a forest through a thick rain, or through rippling water. Could he ... Dacien extended his senses through the ... Dacien felt some kind of resistance give - a pop, as something not seen or sensed or even present except that ... He pulled back. "Five?" He said suddenly. "Yes?" The minotaur said. "Are you all right?" "Yes," and then a silence. "Why do you ask?" "Nothing," said Dacien. "I'm sorry ... I ... I thought ... I don't know what I thought." "Sometimes that happens to me, too, when I'm drifting off to sleep," Five said with a hint of a laugh in his voice. "Sorry," Dacien managed. "I'm sorry." "For what?" Five dismissed the apology. An excellent question, as Teodor might say, Dacien thought. What had he done? He slipped back into his focus, not without difficulty, and looked again, not touching anything this time, not reaching, not ... anything. Just looking at Five, at the patterns and flows behind ... Oh. The patterns weren't behind the minotaur, but flowing through him now, magic seeping into the supine minotaur, draining into the whatever beyond. Dacien's mind flashed back to Teodor's long-ago - was it only ten days? Nine? - lecture about latent mages. No, no, not latent - potential mages. Mages who were absorbing magic, mages who would at some point become ... what? Something that let magic seep out into the world, or pour out. How had he done that? And how would he tell Lord Fog? Especially after ... Dacien thought about the lecture he'd received two mornings ago. Teodor had warned him in clear, unmistakable terms that if he were to use magic without permission, it would not be forgiven again. He could almost hear the anger - and now, suddenly, he understood the fear in his Master's voice, again. He could have hurt Five. He could have ... He might have unknowingly killed the minotaur, instead of just ... Turning him into a potential mage. Had he? Could he? It seemed ... impossible. Nobody knew what or why or how a latent mage might transform into a potential mage, just that ... being around magic did it. Could it be that magic somehow ... cracked or popped or broke open whatever separated magic from the world? Was the difference that thin? It had parted like wet gauze, like a bubble popping. Was it different for others? Dacien resolved not to experiment with that. This would be ... would be hard enough to explain. What should he do? Tell Five? Tell ... Except Teodor would notice. And ... He'd have to tell his Master. It had been an accident. Why had he even been looking, Dacien cried to himself. He should have known better! He should have waited ... No, he was doing it because Master told him to look. That's all he was doing, looking, he didn't realize that some kinds of looking might be touching ... oh. Dacien's heartbeat slowed down a little. Teodor had told him too. He had been following directions; Master had thought it safe for him to look. He'd simply been wrong. No, not wrong, Dacien simply hadn't understood where looking went. Surely ... surely that must be common? Dacien tried to calm himself, failed, and tried again for the next twenty minutes, and when Teodor finally trudged back into the tent, he was almost desperate. "Master," he said, the moment the gray minotaur walked in - and then looked at him. Teodor looked exhausted; and he recalled belatedly that the two mages had been doing ... something. Five was already on his knees, and a subtle shake of his head was clearly meant to indicate that Dacien shouldn't address his Master. But ... "Teodor," Dacien said, hoping this was a matter formal enough for that address. It certainly got the minotaur's attention, and Five actually stared at the human in amazement. "Yes - quickly!" said the gray minotaur, apparently giving Dacien the benefit of any doubt. "Five, please go outside." "Do it," the gray minotaur said, almost instantly. "In fact - go assist the two helping the Lord of Tongs here. Insist they go slowly. Go! Go!" Five rose, and vanished. "We have some few seconds, no more, perhaps less," Teodor said. "Master, you told me to watch magic flows - yes?" "Yes," the minotaur said. "Did you see ... no, tell me." "I accidentally touched Five, Master. Master Teodor. I thought I was looking but something happened and ..." Dacien paused. "It was an accident, Master." "So I will assume," said Teodor. "Did ... did he notice anything? What - what effect did you have?" "He did not notice, Master. And ... he's a potential mage. Now." Teodor's face went slack, and the minotaur just shook his head. "You ... you think you converted Five into a potential mage?" he asked. "I ... no. This is not ..." A shuffling from outside was all the notice they had before three minotaurs came in, carrying the unconscious Lord of Tongs. "Yes. Set him on the bed. Leave. I will tend him," Teodor said. "Five, Dacien, remain. No, the Lord of Tongs will be fine. It's just a very difficult spell; he will recover in some few hours. Please. Go. I can help him, I have Five, and the Lord of Tongs would prefer privacy while he recuperates, I am certain." Once the golden minotaur had been laid out on the bed, the gray Lord Fog chivvied the others out, despite the mistrustful look from a red-and-black brindled longhorn. "No, it is a matter for magic-workers, really. Didn't you hear him say so? Please. It has cost us - me and my Lord of Tongs - much to show you what we have. Go. Plan." He paused as they left, and then the cool chill that Dacien guessed was some kind of privacy spell wrapped the tent. Teodor went over to a chair, glanced over at the apparently sleeping Lord of Tongs, and took a deep breath. "One thing at time. Five! I should like a glass of the strongest liquor in the tent. Doubly distilled brandy would be a very nice treat." "It's packed ..." "Unpack it, then. We will not be leaving until tomorrow," Lord Fog said. He waited until Five had pulled open a box and decanted a small glass of dark brown liquid. Rather than sipping it, the gray minotaur just poured it into his mouth and swallowed. The minotaur shuddered. "You're drinking paint varnish, Luzeil. Yes, I know. I am sorry. I ... I need a moment. I am sorry. I know the wait is torment; I will be as brief as I can ..." Teodor's gaze focused on Five for a moment, and then passed back to Dacien. Grey chill touched him briefly. Dacien; this is your Master. Do not discuss this matter of ... potentiating Five with anyone. Nor concern yourself with an accident; such things happen, and I, not you, bear that blame. Simply nod to acknowledge me. Dacien nodded, a tiny, brief lowering of his head. Teodor's gaze turned back to the still motionless golden minotaur. "Dacien. Five. Attend, please. Five, have you heard of the term, lens euphoria? I've mentioned it to Dacien, but never ... never explained it fully." "No, Master." Five said. Teodor nodded. "Quite understandable. Handling magic in certain ways has in turn definite effects, physiological and psychic both. One of the most common is for two mages to work together to craft a spell beyond their individual powers - a vision, a far-seeing spell, where the sight is made visible to all, rather than just the mage, is such a working, and Luzeil was good enough to assist me in that. I worked the spell; he served as lens. Five, have you heard the term lens, and if so, do you think you understand it?" "I've heard it, and ... it means that one mage serves as a focus for the other?" "Yes," said Teodor. "Exactly. Doing so, however, has a strong effect on the lens. Lensing is intensely pleasurable, strongly intoxicating, and it inhibits the facility of judgment; or perhaps it would be better to say that is disinhibits one at the same time it causes a most intense sexual craving. Repeated exposure, without certain ... disciplines, lead to a condition called lens euphoria, where the lens, after an experience, loses self-control entirely." Teodor waved at the recumbent minotaur. "I should point out that in some clans - Ourobouros, to take one not entirely at random - it has been the custom to induce the most addictive form of lens euphoria in one's apprentices. The masters are subject to the condition, so they pass it on to their students as some debilitating rite of passage. My own master, Lord Ember, was subject to lens euphoria, but he felt it was counterproductive. He chose not to inflict it on his apprentices." The gray minotaur closed his eyes. "The Lord of Rain chose otherwise." Teodor turned back to Five and Dacien. "At the moment, Luzeil is caught in a spell of mine, feigning sleep, to conceal his condition from the rest of Ourobouros. I have shrouded our tent in privacy, none will hear nor see what occurs within. I believe, Dacien, I have mentioned that magic has its perils and inconveniences." Teodor reached down, and ran his fingers through the fine golden mist of hair on Luzeil's muzzle. Cool gray magic dissipated, and the gold minotaur gasped. "No more lectures. Just ..." "Yes," said Teodor, unbuttoning his shirt. "But it would be easier if ..." The buttons practically exploded from Luzeil's clothes, the trousers hurling themselves off him. A second glance, and Teodor's clothing did the same. "Do it!" said the Lord of Tongs, rolling onto his back. "Teodor ..." "Yes," said the gray minotaur, stroking the golden pelt. "I'm sorry, Luz. This is not ... not how I wanted a reunion to be." "It's fine," panted Luzeil. "Teodor, please fuck me. Now! " The gray minotaur parted the gold-furred legs, and pushed into Luzeil, slowly, and clearly not fast enough for him. The golden minotaur reached out, grabbed at Teodor's hips, and pulled him closer. Luzeil moaned. "TEODOR!" he howled. "Here," said the other, now ignoring the other two, and beginning to slam into the golden mage with more force than he'd ever fucked Dacien; reaching down - taking Luzeil's horns in his hands. Dacien felt, rather than heard, Five's gasp of breath, at that, but Luzeil just held his head back, taking the pull down his spine, and Teodor's breathing became more ragged as he pounded the gold minotaur. Luzeil himself was throwing his body against the gray minotaur, almost desperately - no, Dacien decided, no almost about it; the golden minotaur was desperate; his expression one that mingled fierce desire with a frantic need. Luzeil was screaming, suddenly, his entire body convulsing as his thick white seed spattered over Teodor, over the bed. The human expected Teodor to pull out, that the coupling would be finished, but Teodor continued fucking the gold minotaur almost grimly, and Luzeil was cooperating just as enthusiastically as before, and perhaps more so. Dacien spared a glimpse at Five, who was looking - shocked? Horrified? Aroused? Maybe it was only Teodor who was becoming easier to read? "Five?" he whispered. The black-and-white minotaur just shook his head. Luzeil came three more times, the ejaculate thinner each time, as Teodor relentlessly fucked him. And then suddenly Luzeil made a strange sound, something like a cross between a whimper and a howl, and collapsed, the gray minotaur still on top of him, bringing the session to an end. Teodor sighed, whether in tiredness or in pain Dacien couldn't tell. More cool gray magic whispered around the two, water dripping from them, and the matted fur quickly cleaned itself, the fouled water sinking through the floor. The gray minotaur pulled the golden one up - still sleeping? Luzeil's unconsciousness seemed more profound than mere sleep, however, as Teodor gathered him in his gray arms, and held him. Then, and only then, did he look up at his audience, and smiled, almost wistfully. "Lens euphoria addiction," he said, softly. "Luz will wake in control of himself again." His eye wandered to Five. "This is obviously something that is not discussed by slaves." "No, Master," said Five. "I take it you've never seen an example of lens euphoria addiction?" "No, Master," said Five and Dacien. "Few non-mages do," said Teodor, laying himself - and Luzeil - back down on the bed. "It is not something most mages are eager to make known, but ... with the exception of myself, Lord Chimes, and Lord Lash, all the mages I know are subject to it." Teodor paused for a moment. "I intend that my apprentices, as I gain them, will be taught how to avoid it. Lensing is a vital technique. Mages serving as lenses permit spells that are otherwise impossible, as the Lord of Tongs did today. But ... it is often possible to avoid addiction." "Master?" "Yes, Dacien?" "Often possible?" "Often," repeated Teodor. "Lord Doze was not intentionally addicted. He was shown how to avoid it, how to prevent the worst effects, but ... he is fully subject to it. I do not think he's weak, I suspect there are some persons who ... will always be subject to euphoria addiction. And, of course, only the last four mages were trained to avoid it." "Master?" whispered Five uncertainly. "Yes, Five?" "Forgive me, Master, but I don't understand why you're telling us - me, this." "Ah," said Teodor, gently stroking the sleeping minotaur, "I tell Dacien because - and this is a secret, my Five, not to be divulged - because he is a mage. And I tell you because it pleases me that you know. I will tell you many things, my Five, that you do not strictly need to know to serve me, but will give you insight on how I am to be served. And ... I do think I promised a discussion with you, did I not?" "Yes, Master," said Five. Teodor was silent for several minutes. "And so we shall," he said. "I cannot - dare not - send Dacien out, as I should, so this will be short, and cover ... not everything, my Five, and when we are at Mistingrise again, I shall do this properly, and we will spend a day and night." "Yes, Master!" Five said. "For now ..." Teodor sighed. "I have great need of you, Five, or rather, I will have great need of you. The small difficulties you pose at the moment are nothing, nothing, when I think of the benefit ahead. I am delighted that you have come to me, Five." "Thank you, Master." Five sounded reserved to Dacien. "Now, as to what I expect from you. I do not know how good a master I am; I promise that I will spare nothing to be so. And I expect that if I seem unfair, or overly demanding, or assign a task beyond your strength, that you will tell me. Politely, of course." "I will, Master." "Good," Teodor said. "Good. I am an accomplished air mage, and one of the things an air mage can do, Five, is to read thoughts. It is a tricky, delicate, demanding, exercise, best done in absolute quiet, with the subject drugged or magically restrained. Even then, success is uncertain, depending much on the resonances between mage and subject, and other imponderables. Such a thing works perhaps no more than eight of every ten times it is attempted. Do you know why I tell you this?" "No, Master," said Five. "It is to explain precisely why I do not expect you to read my mind. If you have a question, or a doubt, or a concern, or a thought - or you think that some other option might better serve me, it pleases me that you voice it." "Yes, Master." "I expect you will have many questions at first, and it pleases me that you ask them." "Yes, Master." The gray minotaur nodded, and looked at Five expectantly. The black-and-white minotaur looked back with an almost hunted look. "Please you, Master, I ... I can't think of any." "Not even one?" Teodor's deep voice sounded almost amused to Dacien. "No, Master." "I see," said Teodor, in an absent tone. "So be it. Do not concern yourself with such things, then, my Five. It pleases me that you eat, sleep, groom yourself - in short, you have permission to do all the small tasks of living; you need not run to me for such things. I will not fault you for taking initiative, even if the result is other than what I might have commanded." "Yes, Master." Teodor sighed. "Five, what you like me to do to you?" "I ... I don't know, Master," Five said. "You don't know," said Teodor slowly. "I see. Five, if you did know, what would it be?" "Master?" "Go on," Teodor said, almost coaxingly. "If you did know, what would it be?" The black and white minotaur shook himself, as if trying to understand. "I'd like to be held, I think. Master." "Good enough," Teodor said, slowly disentangling himself from Luzeil. He stood. "Come here, Five." "Master, I ..." "Hush," said Teodor. "Come to me. No words, my Five." Gray arms enfolded the black spattered minotaur, who held himself tense against Teodor. "There. I have you, my Five." "Master?" The word was choked, barely audible. "Hush," said Teodor, stroking the other's head, holding him, slowly sitting on the bed. Five folded, knees on the floor, his head on Teodor's lap. Gray hands petted the white-and-black fur, running down Five's head to his back. Eventually Dacien finally saw the tenseness fade from the hard muscle of the black-and-white minotaur under Teodor's touch. The gray minotaur glanced up at Dacien, and smiled briefly, nodding at the minotaur crouched at his lap. "It was a hard question," Teodor murmured to the other minotaur, his hands continuing their gentle caress. "And there will be harder, my Five, much harder questions." The other minotaur tensed instantly, locking into a rigid stillness, a pelt of white and black stretched over a statue of a minotaur. Teodor didn't pause, his hands locked down around the slave. "I'll give it to you, Master. Willingly." "Yes," said Teodor. "But I will take it, nonetheless." Teodor looked across to Dacien, somehow sensing his mounting confusion. Later, he mouthed. Dacien nodded, acknowledging the minotaur, and Teodor turned his attention back to Five. "You're afraid, I think." The gray minotaur shook his head, and stroked first one truncated horn, and then the other. "Whoever did this cut at the base, didn't he." "Yes, Master." "Was it the old or new Lord of Tongs that repaired it?" "The old Lord, Master." "And your back is clear, too ... did he heal whip marks, too?" "Yes, Master." "Very tricky, as I understand such things," Teodor said softly. "Why were your horns cut?" "I ... when I was ... before I was fully trained. Master. I ... I gored my Master. My first Master." "Did it kill him?" Teodor asked in a level tone. "No, Master," and Dacien thought he heard a suggestion of bitterness in the minotaur's voice, the first hint of dissatisfaction with slavery Five had revealed. "Did you mean to?" "Yes, Master," Five said, clearly, almost forcefully. "I meant to kill him. It should have killed him; I cut the femoral arteries. Both of them." "Yet he survived," Teodor said. "Yes, Master." "Does he survive now? Do you know?" "I do not know, Master. He sold me. For ... " Five's voice broke. "For gold." "But that was after, of course." "Long after, Master." "And will you try to kill me, Five?" Somehow, Teodor asked the question in the same calm voice he'd said everything else in. "I will be your Master, whether the answer is yea or nay." "I ... I don't think so, Master." "That is not an answer," Teodor said. "I don't know, Master." "You're welcome to try," the gray minotaur said after a long pause, and Dacien looked at him with confusion. "Thank you, Master," said Five, sounding almost grateful, which only confused the human more. "There is worse than this," Teodor said, running a finger over the horn. "Much worse, Five." "I ... I'd rather not find out, Master." Teodor's smile was thin and cold. "No. Will you try to kill me, Five?" The kneeling minotaur sighed. "No, Master. It's nice to imagine, sometimes but ... I haven't even tried, not since ..." he shuddered. "And ... being a slave isn't ... isn't what I thought it would be, when I was being trained." "Good," Teodor said, more warmly. "I'll try not to give you a reason to change your mind." "The Lord of Tongs never asked me, Master," Five said, face down. "Not for my name, not for my choice." "Probably not," sighed Teodor. "Sweet as he is, he's a bit ... blind. Never mind." Teodor moved Five gently off his lap, and stood, surveyed the tent, and stared at the sleeping Luzeil. "He'll be out for several hours." "Master?" asked Dacien hesitantly. "Questions," sighed Teodor. "Humans and questions. It's almost a cliché. Not now, Apprentice. Still ..." he looked at Five for a moment. "Five, is there ... no. I think Luz needs some company. On the bed." Five obeyed, although he looked confused. This time, Dacien felt the gray cool of his Master's magic wrap around the other minotaur with the speed of an executioner's axe. Five collapsed onto the bed into - no, just sleep. Just sleep, and Teodor turned to Dacien with almost a relieved look. "Not that any of the troubles are over, but at least I have a reprieve to try to understand some of this," Teodor said. "Most interesting thing first, I think. How did that happen?" Dacien told Teodor the story, ending with, "and ... that's it. I don't know ... I didn't mean for that to happen." "No, of course not," Teodor said, thoughtfully. "But it sounds as if you catalyzed the transition from latent mage to potential mage. Either that, or the most unlikely coincidence I've ever heard of. I think I understand it; it makes sense, although I never would have guessed in my wildest dreams that you might be able to do such a thing." Teodor looked at Dacien. "I think ... I think I would like to keep this power secret, even when I do reveal you to my fellow Lords. Do not mention that you perceive others as ... portals to the realm of magic. Or however or whatever it is that you do." "Yes, Master," Dacien said. "Er. Master?" "Yes?" "You said you understand it?" "Yes," sighed Teodor. "I ... I have a theory. Magic tends to align itself along certain paths, elemental affinities being the most common, but not, by any means, the only such. Mages have had affinities for wood, for metal, for the ocean, for fish, in one peculiar case. I think ... I think you have such an unusual affinity. Perhaps a unique one, if I have guessed rightly, but ... I hesitate, Dacien, because my guess is audacious in the extreme, and ... and it is possible I have misunderstood your gifts. If I were to tell what I guessed, then it might influence the development of your gifts. There is time, Apprentice, there is time, and all of these things will unfold in time. This is a place where hurrying can lead to error, and error is hard to undo. I might limit you improperly, prevent you from understanding the fullness of your gifts." Teodor sighed. "Humans are impatient, much more now -oriented than minotaurs, and I think that is just the way humans perceive time; differently than we do. I know it is hard to wait, and I suspect it is harder than I understand, but ... please, Dacien. Wait. Don't be in such a rush to put a name to your magic; let it find its own name." Teodor sat back down on the bed, carefully avoiding the two sleeping minotaurs. "That ... that makes sense. I understand. But ... it is hard to wait." "The waiting is really more a byproduct of this ridiculous invasion," Teodor said, sounding a little frustrated himself. "I can think of all kinds of things I'd like to experiment with if we were just back at Mistingrise, where ... where I could do things without worrying about our privacy. But as it is ... if Luzeil, here, knew you had the potential to ... create mages, then he'd probably kill me to get at you himself." Teodor looked pensive. "Understand, Dacien, there are no more than a few hundred or so of us, spread out among all our clans. This is ... this is a power we'd always thought was reserved from us by the creators themselves. Lycaili is fortunate to have so many mages. Lords Winter, Green, Chimes, Doze, Lash. Myself, of course. Trand, who should be Lord Run. You. Lord Clear, perhaps. Seven. Eight, if I count you. Soon nine, when he is trained," and Teodor gestured to Five. "Perhaps. We shall see if ... if he can adapt again, from warrior to slave to lord. If it can be done." "Can it be done?" Teodor shrugged. "I don't know. But I don't have a choice." "What if ... what if he can't?" said Dacien, thinking of the minotaur's rigidity, and suddenly worried for what he'd done. Teodor turned towards Dacien. "What do you think, Apprentice? What else can we do? If he cannot handle the power responsibly, then he must die. This is no different than the strictures on me, or you, or anyone." "But ... he shouldn't have been ..." "You don't know that," said Teodor. "He may have been a latent mage all along. He might have been close to becoming a potential mage. You don't know how much - or little - you contributed. You did, I'm sure, some. But how much is questionable, and ... and mistakes happen, Apprentice, especially in new ground." Teodor focused his attention completely on the human. "Consider this is not the first time you have placed others in danger, and in all likelihood, this will not be the last time you place others in jeopardy. Get used to it; you will make mistakes, no matter how cautious you are, and if you are a mage, and a Lord, then others will die for those mistakes. All you can do is try to make as few as you may, and redeem those you can." The gray minotaur sighed. "What else is there?" "I ... I don't know," Dacien said. "I suppose that seems reasonable. But ..." "But?" "I guess this is more serious than I thought," Dacien said. "I just don't understand, though, how I'm supposed to be a Lord. I'm not a minotaur!" Teodor shrugged. "I think we need your magic," he said. "And a mage, in our clan, is a Lord. And so must you be, if we are to benefit from your skill." Teodor hesitated. "Or perhaps ... you would have reservations about aiding our clan? Would that be an issue for you, Dacien?" "I ... I hadn't even thought about it, Master," Dacien said. "This has all been so ... well, I don't know." "It has been sudden and surprising, I am forced to agree. I do not expect you to have any great loyalty to my - our - clan, especially since you were taken in battle. It is enough, for me, for now, that you feel no hatred to us. That you could, perhaps, feel comfortable thinking of yourself as belonging to a minotaur clan, rather than some human empire. Clans are about family, and bonds of blood. And we can add to our clan, if we see an honorable person." "Even a human? It would feel weird." "Yes," said Teodor, thoughtfully. "It would." "May I ask about ... Five? Master?" "If you must," said Teodor. "What did you mean, take his name. And why did you say he could try to kill you? I mean, it meant something, I understood that," Dacien said. "But ..." he trailed off. "Questions." The gray minotaur merely shook his head. "A full explanation would take days, but ... briefly, simplistically, and inaccurately, minotaurs as slaves came from captured warriors, enslaved by their captors. Strictly speaking, only warriors could be enslaved; non-warriors had to be ransomed, for tedious historical reasons. Thus, it became a question of honor, honor in turn required that a captured warrior have a chance - a single chance - to overcome his captor if he had not been taken by that warrior on the field. Some might choose not to take it, and enjoy a kind of parole - certain rights granted to putative slaves. But to take the chance, and lose, meant losing everything. All rights. And that is what is meant by taking a name; the very core of honor and reputation is one's name. For a slave to lose his name means he is entirely his master's property. So a name may be 'taken' in battle, or 'given' in surrender. Since few minotaurs sleep easy thinking a slave can regain his freedom and honor by killing them, they prefer to take - or be given - the name. The entire process ..." Teodor was interrupted by a voice calling. "My Lord of Tongs? My Lord Fog? Is anyone here?" "I am here," Teodor called back into the outer room. "Pardon me," and he vanished through the partition. "Ah. Warrior. Orestes?" "Yes, My Lord Fog. I called, but, there was no answer." "That would be my fault; I put a quiet around the tent so as to keep the Lord of Tongs undisturbed," Teodor said. "I had hoped we would not be needed." A deep voice answered him. "General Orox's regards, and he hopes you could rejoin him in his tent if the Lord of Tongs is well." "I see. Yes." For a moment, Dacien thought, Teodor actually sounded harried. "Please return to the General, and tell him I will be there presently. There are one or two things I need to see to ensure the Lord's comfort, and ... and I would be appreciative if someone could be stationed outside to prevent interruption to the Lord while I am absent? "Yes, My Lord Fog, I will arrange that." "Thank you, Orestes," Teodor's voice was calmer. "And bear word that I shall join the General as soon as honor permits." "Yes, My Lord Fog." Teodor came back through the curtain, glanced at the two slumbering minotaurs, and then Dacien. "I scarcely know where to begin," he said, "and I've scarcely begun, when I am torn away to some other task that likewise I know little of and feel poorly matched to. I'm a mage. I understand magic. I understand training of apprentices. I am asked to comment on military strategy and tactics." He put his hand to his forehead, and rubbed the soft gray pelt. "Please let the Lord of Tongs know I'm with General Orox when he wakes." "Yes, Master," said Dacien cheerfully. "And have Five get lunch and dinner for you. Both," sighed Teodor. "Expect to move tomorrow, not tonight." The gray minotaur shook his head, and walked out quickly. The remainder of the day passed slowly. Luzeil woke before Five, and, after ascertaining from Dacien that Lord Fog was with the General, left. Five, when he woke, didn't want to talk. The evening passed similarly; Lord Fog and the Lord of Tongs returned together, and said nothing; nothing to each other, and nothing to Dacien or Five. Teodor shook his head at a whispered 'Master?' from Five. Luzeil refused even to look at Teodor; the gray minotaur, for his part, took the silence calmly. That night, though, Teodor curled on the bed with Dacien. Dacien, the cool gray thought came, I want to speak with you. I expect I shall be able to hear you back if you subverbalize your thoughts. As if you were going to speak, or mentally following along with another speaker. Can you try that, please? Yes, Master, thought Dacien. Ah, but this is magic, shared magic, so you must call me Teodor, the amused thought came back. We will move tomorrow, and, if all goes as the General has planned, engage the Imperials in battle the day after. I admit I am not looking forward to that. I have been thinking more on what you triggered in Five. I would like you to keep a close eye on him, magically speaking. I know nothing about how a mage moves from potential to actual, and I am very curious to see if you, with your perceptions, can see anything. Yes, Teodor. Why isn't Luzeil talking to you? Is it because of Five? No, and the thought was almost rueful. It is that I know very little of armies or logistics or strategy or tactics, and so I asked many questions at the strategy meeting that Luz feels I should not have asked. But ... I am a Lord, I am assigned to help with these strategies, and I cannot fulfill my duties if I do not understand the context of them. Or so I believe. And if I truly believe that, does not my duty require I ask all those questions until I do understand? We quarreled over the point. Luz thinks I am deliberately embarrassing him, and that I should have just asked him afterwards. But then, if I perceived a problem - and I did, twice - it would be too late to do anything about it. The minotaur gave a mental shrug. He will be less angry in the morning. Or he will not. Okay. I mean, Yes. I mean ... Do not concern yourself, beloved Apprentice. Once this is done, we can begin your instruction in earnest. What does Five have to do with it? Surprise came through the thought. How ... no. Yes. I do need Five for you. You must learn a great deal of minotaur culture, how to dress, act, speak, why we do things the way we do, and Five knows all these things. And will explain them to you when I cannot. Now, enough. All I can offer you tonight is a true spell of sleep; anything else would probably irritate Luz, and he is sufficiently irritated with me already. Do you wish to sleep? Yes, please. A cool ocean of gray swallowed him almost instantly. The next day, Dacien didn't really get another chance to talk to Five or even Teodor. He woke up last, and the two mages had already left the tent. Five was busy repacking, such as it was, and Dacien barely had time to get out of bed and eat some kind of heavy baked bar - travel food, Five called it, and a wineskin. When he and Five left the tent - finally! - the entire camp was being packed. Luzeil glanced at the two, Five nodded to his former master. The fragrance of sweet burning cedar filled Dacien's senses as the tent just collapsed in an orderly fashion, the walls falling in on themselves and then folding into a small, compact bundle. Five started towards it, but the Lord of Tongs just said "Don't bother," and the bundle hurled itself onto a cart. "You may, however, pull the cart." The golden minotaur looked disapprovingly at Dacien. "You. On the cart." The human decided against asking where Lord Fog was, and just got onto the cart, filled with what were - presumably - bundled tents. Teodor did come a little later, to fasten his leash and provide a blanket. Lunch was another travel bar, brought to him by Five. Still, Dacien had never seen a minotaur army before. It was smaller than a human force might be. They did use carts, but instead of horses or mules, the carts were actually drawn by the minotaurs themselves, in some kind of rotation. Only Five had to pull a cart without rest; the other minotaur took turns of about twenty minutes of so. At lunch, when he asked Five about it, Five told him that the idea was to keep from wearing out the warriors, so they'd all be ready for an ambush or attack. He, Five, was not permitted to fight, so there was no need for him to rest unless he couldn't pull the cart - and Five's tone left no doubt that that would not happen. Dacien wasn't sure how the minotaurs decided to stop; he would have expected some shouting or directions or something - but instead, the cart just stopped. Luzeil extracted - by magic - his bundled tent, set it up, and hurried Five and Dacien inside again, where they shared yet another travel bar. "What's in these, anyway?" Dacien asked. "Flour and ground dried fruit, mostly," Five said, rubbing his arms. "Oil, I think. Some spices to make it taste less boring." "It's not bad," Dacien said. Five looked at Dacien dubiously. "Really?" "Well, compared to Imperial Army food. All we - they, I mean, have is bread." "This is really just bread, just a little ... specialized," Five said. "I think it's pretty dull, though." "I trust you're not referring to me," said Teodor, who had - silently - entered the tent. Five again used that strange minotaur speed to drop into sit. "No, Master," Five said. "Dacien had asked me about the travel-bread." "It is dull," agreed Lord Fog. "But filling. Tomorrow morning will bring a real breakfast, however." He looked apologetically at both of them. "I imagine it's exceedingly confining to be kept in this tent, for both of you. I do apologize, but ... it's safer for Dacien, and, Five, I want you with him." The minotaur looked uncharacteristically uncertain for a moment before his usual confidence resumed. "Five, Dacien is a mage; just beginning to come into his gifts. Were you aware of this?" "Not specifically, Master, but it was obvious you were not treating him as one might expect a feral human slave to be treated." "No," said the gray mage after a moment, and then nodded decisively. "I cannot think of a better buffer between a human mage and minotaur society than ... well, you, Five. I cannot do it, and yet it must be done until Dacien has mastered those skills he needs. And you will assist him to do so." "Yes, Master," asked Five. "Master?" "Yes, Five?" "Forgive my presumption, Master, but ... how is a human mage going to join minotaur society?" Five asked. "Ah," said Teodor, taking a breath in, and the then releasing it. "Yes. An interesting question. It would certainly be a significant departure from tradition. And yet, Five, I believe we need Dacien's gifts as a mage. I daresay I can resolve these contradictions, and believe they, they weigh heavy on me. Even Dacien has asked that question. The way through is ... not yet clear, my Five, not at all. Please consider it my problem, and that I will deal with it. Which is to say, there is no need for anyone other than myself to worry about that." A flash of - something - flickered over the minotaur's face, too quickly for Dacien to identify, although he resolved to ask Five about it later. "I assure you the problem is my constant companion." "Yes, Master. Forgive me if I was impudent." "When I find you impudent, my Five, I shall let you know." Teodor smiled softly. "You will find that I value initiative. You will never - never - be punished for speaking truthfully to me, nor for seeking to serve me as best you can. Never, my Five. These are things I prize. And I will reward them. As I will reward your question now. I regret, I truly do, that I do not want Dacien exposed to your fluids, but the converse is not the case. You may, within that stricture, play with Dacien as pleases both of you." "Thank you, Master!" said Five. "It is little enough, and something I would be inclined to grant regardless," Teodor said sincerely. "If you had some other reward in mind, something else I could grant, you have but to make the thing known to receive it. I do not have time to treat you as you deserve, my Five, but I will." The minotaur's voice took on a determined ring. "And I shall." Teodor retrieved a small book from his case, and left, as quietly as he had arrived. The next morning felt similarly rushed. Luzeil and Teodor vanished as fast as they dressed, taking Five with them. Fortunately, Five reappeared in a few minutes with a hot breakfast - oatmeal, mostly, with dried fruit and hot bread, and a large basket of the maligned travel bars. "Just in case we're stuck here for a while," Five said. Although neither Dacien nor Five had felt any doubts about the result of the upcoming battle, neither was happy at being ordered to stay in the Lord of Tong's tent, and not to leave for any reason. The reason was clear to Dacien, as he felt a now-familiar grayness steal over the tent exterior. Lord Fog glanced at Dacien, and cool gray words formed in his mind. It is a protection; I have erased the presence of this tent; sealed it away from notice. Much like what I did that first night to the various accessories of my bedchamber, if you recall. However, should you leave the bounds of the spell, it is unlikely you will be able to find it again, and even less likely you could re-enter the bounds. " "It will displease me greatly should you leave before I return," was all that Lord Fog had said, and the still-taciturn Lord of Tongs had said nothing at all. Neither of them - Five or Dacien - had much to say. Dacien lay next to the minotaur on the bed, saying nothing, just enjoying laying next to him, enjoying the faint pine-resin scent and the subtle warmth. He lay barely an inch away, on his side, facing away from Five, but he could still feel the body heat of the minotaur slave on him. Dacien just lay there, he wasn't sure for how long. He wasn't sure what he thought about the battle, or what he wanted to happen; earlier, he'd thought himself indifferent but now ... what would he lose if the minotaurs won? What would he win if they lost? He wanted ... He knew what he wanted. He wanted the Imperial Army to leave minotaur lands, and he wanted to learn magic with Lord Fog at Mistingrise. He wanted to see what kind of magic Five would manifest; he wanted - he really - wanted to be certain that Five survived the transformation from slave to mage, and ... he wanted to see it. He wondered if it would feel like his own. He'd been a slave, looking for nothing more than ... Had he? The very quiet was distracting, and the scent of minotaur sent warm tingles down him. He understood it, and yet the experience was still a little unsettling. At least they had Teodor's permission, and he nudged just a little closer to Five, who nudged just a little closer back. But Five, apparently, was content to just enjoy his presence, much as Dacien was enjoying Five's. He wondered briefly if the smell of human affected Five the way smell of minotaur affected him; yet another thing to ask. Eventually. If they got back to Mistingrise ... No, not if . The humans were going to get thrashed, Dacien admitted to himself, and a sick feeling started in the base of his stomach; the thought of all the humans who were going to be hurt - killed - to appease some insane Imperial edict. He didn't - couldn't - blame the minotaurs. Lycaili, really, since this was their land. The Empire was the invader, threatening the minotaurs, except it really wasn't threatening. Inconveniencing, maybe. Dacien breathed a sigh, almost silent. Only because Five was laying so close to him did the minotaur hear it, and murmur, "I'm sorry." "What for?" asked Dacien. "It's not your fault." "No," said Five quietly. "It's not. But that doesn't mean ... I don't know how you have to be feeling, waiting for friends and ... perhaps even family, to fight. And die. And you might never know who you've lost, because you've already really lost them. This is just the last step of losing them," the minotaur said. "I've ... I've done that. Been there. Waiting. Not being sure if I wanted my ... those I knew, to lose. Or to win. Or to wish that all of them might lose." "I was really wishing both sides could win; if the Army would just withdraw. Would have retreated. They made their point; what more could they be after," Dacien said slowly, and then turned to look at his companion. "Five? You were waiting on a battle between your, well, former clan, I guess, and new Master's clan." The black-and-white minotaur shook his head. "No. That's ... that's not what I meant to say. You won't tell Master I said that, will you? It was an accident!" "Uh," said Dacien, suddenly taken aback. "No, of course not. But ... why ... why would saying that - assuming you had said it, which you didn't, I think, not quite - but if you had, why would that be bad?" "Because I never belonged to any clan," said Five, tonelessly. "And it is an offense to claim to belong to a clan when you don't. I have never belonged to a clan. Not for a moment. Never." "But weren't you training to be a warrior? For your clan?" "I was training to be a warrior, for the clan I mistakenly thought I belonged to," Five said, biting the words off. "Slaves do not belong to clans." "Then how ... how am I supposed to be a mage for Clan Lycaili?" Dacien had wanted to ask Five more about the clan he apparently hadn't really belonged to, but the questions were clearly bringing up painful memories for the black-and-white minotaur. Five had been ready to say something, but that, apparently, was not what he'd been expecting. "I don't know," he said, sounding grateful for the change of subject. "I ... I haven't known Master for very long, but he seems to take his personal honor very seriously. I doubt he'd lie." "Even to a slave?" Five shook his head. "Especially not to a slave," he said, almost surprised. "Dishonesty is ... well, not honorable. To our way of thinking, it ... dirties you, makes you shameful. It's immoral. And to be dishonest to a slave - that's low, very low. The only possible excuse would be that it's for the slave's own welfare, but ... very few minotaurs would bother even then. And being caught lying to a slave," Five shook his head. "Very embarrassing. I get the feeling that Lord Fog wouldn't be embarrassed by anything he's ever done. That's ... that's how the Lord of Tongs described him to Warlord Jervais." Five looked like he was remembering something. "Repeatedly. "Anyway," Five continued, "he just wouldn't even have to talk about it. Which is pretty much what he did - he said he recognized the problem, had a solution, and was still trying to figure it all out." Five paused, thinking. "Or almost had a solution," he added. "He's ... you know, he is evading the question, isn't he?" "Are we supposed to notice that?" Dacien joked. Five apparently took him seriously. "I don't see why not," he said. "Master said we're supposed to use our initiative to serve him as best - well, he said I was to. I assume he already said that to you." "Something like it, yes," Dacien agreed. "Then I don't think it's inappropriate. Although trying to second-guess him would be," Five said. "I was joking," Dacien said. "Oh," said Five, quietly. He smiled a small, intensely private smile that lasted for no more than a moment. "It's been a long time since anyone joked with me," he said, directly to the human, very, very quietly. "It's ... I hadn't realized I missed it." "You never joked with other slaves?" Five shook his head. "No. To them, if I had reason to talk to them at all, I was a minotaur. And of course my Masters ..." his voice trailed off, although not with the same unpleasant edge he'd had earlier, talking about his previous experiences as a slave. "They didn't joke with me," he said. "Not even the good ones. Does Master ever joke with you?" "Er," said Dacien, caught off-guard. "Not ... not often. I think he did. Once. But it was in a lesson and ... he's told me, privately, that I should think of myself as his apprentice. Not ..." the human stopped, not wanting to finish the sentence. But Five heard as a slave anyway. The reaction was tiny, the smallest tremor, but ... but Five apparently could not hide his body's reactions. The thought came unbidden: just how brutal had his retraining as a slave been? Dacien remembered, suddenly, the excised horns and Teodor's question as to whom had healed the scarring ... brutal, he thought, might be an understatement if the minotaur was still reacting like this. And ... was that tiny flinch resentment? That he, Dacien, might somehow escape the status of slave when he, Five, could not? Or just the implied renewal of the deep loneliness that Dacien sensed from Five? He wished, suddenly, that he could tell Five that he, too, might be a mage. He wanted to offer something. Hope, he supposed, that whatever personal peace Five had found with what sounded like his own personal hell from the few glimpses Dacien had seen, that maybe, there might be a way out. Only he didn't know if that was true. Would a minotaur slave who became a mage - was a mage, a potential mage, be truly welcome in Clan Lycaili? If they could accept a human, why not a minotaur slave? From what Teodor had said, mages were rare enough that they would be welcome no matter what their circumstance or bloodline. Would that hold true for a human? Could he hope it would? Only ... if that was the case, why hadn't Teodor said so. He could ask Teodor, he realized, about Five. The gray minotaur might have his own reasons for being less than forthcoming, and, Dacien was slowly realizing, Teodor was just secretive by nature. Maybe he'd bend a little for Five's peace of mind. And maybe he wouldn't. That in turn reminded him of what he had wanted to ask Five. And ... maybe he could distract the minotaur from his thoughts, whatever they were. He could almost feel Five withdrawing, and that wasn't what he wanted. He liked Five. It was hard not to like Five, Dacien thought, and wondered at Luzeil's apparent indifference to him. Another mystery, and one he probably would never be able to answer. "Five?" "Mmm?" "I was wondering ... it's not something I would ask Master - " and Dacien carefully substituted Master for Teodor - "but what's the big deal about fluids? What does he mean?" "Semen, sweat, urine, and blood," Five said, instantly. "Corresponding to fire, air, earth, and water. They have magical significance." "What significance?" "I don't know," Five said. "It's just something we were taught. Four fluids, four elements. I remember -" he broke off suddenly, and then continued, "another student asked about spit, and snot. And ..." he paused again. "But he didn't get an answer, so I don't know." "That ... that wasn't really what I wanted to know," Dacien said. "I was asking why he wouldn't want me to share your ... fluids." "Because they're addicting," Five said. "Not semen, so much, and I don't know about blood, but sweat and urine are very addicting." He grimaced. "Very. He probably doesn't want you to get addicted to me." "Addictive? That's ... what does that mean? I've never heard that before." "Lucky you," said Five, and then he reached out to touch Dacien for just a moment. "Ever been hungry?" "Yes." "Really hungry, I mean hungry enough that you'd ... you'd attack someone who had food, so you could eat?" "No." "Lucky you," Five said again. "But could you imagine being that hungry?" "Easily," said Dacien. "Then imagine ... imagine wanting to smell or taste Master so bad you'd do anything to be with him. Just to be in the room with him." Five's voice took on a faraway, almost haunted quality. "If he told you to ... to kill your best friend, your only friend, and he'd let you come near enough to smell him, to taste him, to taste his urine, and ... you'd do it. Gratefully. Thanking him, begging for another chance, just another minute with him." Five's voice was hollow, all the presence gone from it, like it was just an empty husk and Five himself was back in his memories. Had that happened to Five? "That's ... that's hard to imagine," Dacien forced himself to say, pretending not to notice Five's distraction. "Good," said Five, coming back to himself. "Yes. But ... but that's what it's like." "Doesn't sound good," Dacien said, stalling. This wasn't the direction he'd wanted to take the conversation. "Oh, it could be worse," Five said, his muzzle twisting in what Dacien could tell was meant to be a joke, but Dacien felt a terrible certainty that it wasn't a joke. Not to Five. "I can see why ... why Master wouldn't want that," he said, trying to find some way to segue into something less problematic. "I didn't know that." Five just snorted. "It's not a secret." "I meant, I didn't know it had that effect on minotaurs, too." Dacien said. "Does ... do humans affect minotaurs that way, too?" "Hmm?" said Five, still lost in his own thoughts. "Well, not addict them, not like that, but ... just being next to you ... I mean, you smell. Good, I mean. Kind of like pine. It's ... it's a nice smell." Five just looked at him. "I was wondering if ... you ... if minotaurs thought ... well, humans smelled good. So to speak." Five was silent for so long that Dacien thought he might have inadvertently offended the minotaur again. Dacien was about to speak again, trying to figure out what to say, when the minotaur said simply, "Yes." Dacien waited, and when it became clear Five had no more to add on the subject, Dacien somehow continued with, "I mean, we're here. And ... nobody's going to come in, not with the spell Master put around us. The tent, I mean." Five curled up, away from Dacien. "Five? Is ... have I said something wrong?" Dacien carefully put a hand on the minotaur's shoulder. He wasn't prepared for the way Five went rigid with distress. "Five?" "Don't, please don't," Five said, almost groaning, curling up on the bed tighter. "Don't what, Five?" "Tease me!" the minotaur burst out. "It hurts , I'm already aching for you, all right? If you want me, take me! Just ... just don't tease me like this." "I'm sorry," Dacien said. "I didn't realize that. So minotaurs can become addicted to humans?" A snort followed, and then, "I can," said Five dully. "I have." "So fast?" "Oh, I'm not addicted to you," Five said. "No. I'm addicted to humans." He paused, and sighed. "And minotaurs." Another pause, followed by, "I don't think I'm addicted to you," more slowly. And then, very quietly, "I might be. It happens ... fast. To me. Because ... because I've been addicted. So often." "It doesn't matter," Dacien said, stroking the minotaur's muzzle, watching Five's eyes widen. You can have me any time you want. Five didn't move, but the huge brown eyes opened a little wider. "I ..." and then he shook his head. "No. You're not ... you don't understand, do you? The only way I can 'buffer' you is if the world thinks I'm you. Which means ... Master is going to make me, yours. Eventually. I don't think it will work for long, but maybe ... maybe it will work as a fiction. I don't know." "You think that's what he has in mind?" "It's the only thing I can think of," Five said. "Which means ... I don't know. But it means we're not going to be ... like this. Two slaves. I'm going to be yours. And Master's, of course. But ... yours. Mostly. I think." "Is that bad?" asked Dacien, softly. "If you want me? I said you can have me, anytime - and I meant it." Five rolled over and stared into the human's face for a minute, his expression intent with an emotion Dacien didn't recognize. It wasn't something he'd ever seen in Teodor's face, he was sure of that. Desire? Lust? Despair? Hope? It could have been any of those, and perhaps all of them. And then he moved, in the blurring speed of minotaurs, his muzzle at Dacien's crotch, not-quite-just touching Dacien. "Order me," Five said, his voice pleading. "I ... I need to hear it. Commanded. Want to hear it. Please!" "Order ..." Dacien said, confused for a moment before he understood. "You do?" "It ... yes," said Five, his expression begging Dacien not to press for an explanation. "Just ... please." "Taste me, Five," Dacien said, firmly. "No more than that!" The minotaur groaned as he complied, his tongue reaching out to lick - gingerly, the rough surface barely flicking across Dacien's shaft, lightly dancing over his sack, touching Dacien's inner thighs with a feather touch. Five was shaking, saying nothing, but providing a delicious light pressure against Dacien. Almost without thinking, Dacien reached down, grasped the rough fur on the minotaur's head firmly, pressed Five's face down against himself, feeling the warmth of the minotaur's skin against him. "Good," breathed Dacien, deeply, not quite sure how far or how forceful he should be, but trusting his intuition that this was what Five wanted. "Take it," he said. "Pleasure me." That was all Five needed; Dacien's maleness was deep in the hot, warm muzzle, surrounded and almost milked by the long flexible tongue and the human gasped from the sudden sensation. Five let out a low squeak, of contentment, of his own pleasure, Dacien wasn't sure, and for a brief moment; he didn't care, overcome by the hot sensation of lust. Five ... he thought furiously for a moment about what Five had told him. He pushed the minotaur's head down onto him, gently, but Five offered no resistance, pulling himself down, up, down, up, and Dacien's own movements became harder. Five's ministrations became, if anything, more emphatic, as he responded to Dacien's unspoken demands. Dacien felt ... he wasn't sure. This wasn't what he'd been expecting, but ... it seemed to be what Five wanted. Maybe. He'd ... he'd have to talk to Five. Afterwards. Dacien was hard, and, after the days of waiting, of enforced nakedness, after wearing the leash, sitting, begging, laying there on the bed, forcing a minotaur up and down on his shaft felt good. More than good. He stroked Five's head possessively, not letting up on the pressure. His eye fell on the stubby horns. Dacien took it, firmly, and heard a whimper from Five. It was a strange thing to hear from a minotaur; Five weighed easily twice what Dacien did, and could probably have thrown the human through the tent if the minotaur tried. And yet this powerful, beautiful, male creature, that could have killed him in a moment, was doing - begging, really, for him to hold him, to force him to do all the things ... That he couldn't admit he wanted to do? That being forced made it ... better for him? Was that how Five had survived whatever had been done to him? Had that been the point? "Do you like that?" Dacien drawled, trying to sound nonchalant. "Well?" Five nodded. Submissively, Dacien noted. "You are good at it, I'll admit," Dacien said. He lay back, enjoying the tongue, the mouth, the heat, the slick pressure of flesh on flesh, the sweet need rising in his own loins. He would ... he would surprise Five, he vowed. Somehow. The minotaur seemed to crave some kind of strange combination of caring and domination, like a ... Dacien searched for an analogy. But the only one that came to him was ... like a slave. He sighed, partly in pleasure, partly wondering what, if anything, he could do to this lovely minotaur that was so determined to please him. He suspected the answer way, practically anything . He stared down at Five, the rippling muscles of his back moving up and down, back and forth. He really was beautiful, Dacien realized; the large not-quite-circular black splotches against the pale white attractive in a strange, cow-ish way. It was some time later - some unknowable time later - that Dacien pulled up on Five's head, pulling it back, off of him, and the minotaur looked up with an almost shocked expression; as if he were afraid that Dacien was angry. Dacien met Five's gaze with as an impersonal stare as he could manage himself. "Turn over," he ordered. "On your back. Now." It didn't surprise Dacien at all that Five did as he had directed; and now Five could watch Dacien. His expression had changed; the bovine eyes were glazed; he didn't seem to be focusing quite on Dacien, but on something else, something that only Five could see. Dacien got up, pulled the minotaur to the edge of the bed, slapped his legs apart. Five just stared, glassy-eyed, dazed, panting. "Say it," Dacien said, his need to hear the minotaur's submission warring with his sympathy for Five's condition. Only ... only this was, Dacien was sure, what the minotaur needed, wanted. "Say it!" Dacien repeated, louder. "Wh .. what?" Five panted, looking confused. "I'm going to fuck you," Dacien said, slowly, slapping the minotaur's still-limp shaft back and forth with each word. "And I want to hear you say it." "You're ... you're going to fuck me," Five said, blinking muzzily. "No," said Dacien, slapping the minotaur's heavy sack - carefully, very carefully, the last thing he wanted to do was actually hurt Five, but ... but the minotaur's seemed to crave the threat, if not the thing itself. "Tell me you want it." "I want it," the minotaur said. "No," said Dacien again, his open hand slapping the minotaur's sack again, just a little harder. "Tell me what you want." "I ... I want you to fuck me," Five said, hopefully. Better. "Ask me," said Dacien, one hand lifting the minotaur's sack, the other playing with the slowly growing shaft. "Please fuck me," the minotaur said. "Did you say something?" Dacien asked, his grip teasing Five, tightening oh so very softly. "Please fuck me," the minotaur said, more loudly, a faint hint of fear in his voice. And the minotaur's shaft was harder still. Dacien didn't look at it directly, but he smiled. Inside. Outside, he frowned at the minotaur. "Not good enough." "Not ..." Dacien gave the two orbs a quick squeeze, and Five's eyes widened, almost touched with panic. "Not good enough, slave ." "Please fuck me, please, I want it, I want ..." "What?" Dacien said, leaning into the minotaur. "To be fucked." "By?" "You." "By?" asked Dacien again, and he could see Five struggling to find the right answer. "You, please, you," "It will please me," Dacien said back. "Very much. A human fucking a minotaur," he was perfectly willing to give Five a hint. "Fucking his minotaur." "Yes, please, fuck me," begged Five, but that still wasn't what Dacien was looking for. "Say it," Dacien hissed coldly. "I want a human to fuck me. To - to make me his." "You are mine," Dacien corrected, tightening his grip, and this time, not releasing the pressure. "Yes. Yes! I'm yours," Five gasped out. "Please, human, fuck your minotaur!" Dacien needed nothing else; his hardness found Five's opening and slipped in. Forced in; Dacien forced himself in harder than he would have - than he had earlier. Five said nothing, just shivered, the dark minotaur shaft pulsing with Five's own excitement. Dacien said nothing, content at first to fuck the minotaur, slowly, enjoying the slick, warm, feeling that the tight grip of Five's body on his length, his own hardness forcing the minotaur open. Five was quiet, too, but the dazed happy expression on his face made Five's own enjoyment clear. That pleased Dacien; he liked the minotaur under him. It wasn't just that Dacien felt sorry for him, although he did, or that Five was convenient, although he was, but ... Dacien genuinely liked the submissive minotaur. And the feel of Five wrapped around his shaft was ecstatic. He leaned down, putting his weight on the firm stomach of the minotaur, reaching up for Five's horns - and this time, he felt the little spasm that went through the supine minotaur as Dacien's hand closed on the cool, slightly rough horn. Dacien pulled up, gently, really nothing more than a half-expressed desire that Five would lift himself up to meet him - yes, he did, and Dacien's other hand caressed the white muzzle. He moved his head down, not interrupting his thrusts at all, but meeting the minotaur's eyes. His tongue touched the minotaur's lips, tasted them. Pine, of course, and a sweet herbal taste and beneath that a salty must. His tongue forced Five's lips apart, and he invaded Five a second time, his tongue tracing Five's teeth, Five's tongue welcoming his, sucking on his tongue even as his shaft pounded into Five's guts. Dacien was close, and from the shivers in the minotaur's body, he thought Five was close as well. Simultaneous orgasm was tricky, difficult, and ... probably not possible, but Dacien decided to try anyway. He began whispering to Five, telling the minotaur what a good fuck he was, how tight he was, how eager for him. How that pleased him. How he enjoyed the minotaur, how Five was a good minotaur. Five's whimpers just grew louder, and more excited, and more frantic. Dacien was there, right on the brink and tipping over into ... into ... he forced one last phrase out before he had to howl out his pleasure. "You are my slave," he said, the words rough with his own concentration, and even his hope that this would ... Five spasmed under him; jerking in the grips of his own orgasm, hot seed coursing from him in long pulses, leaving wide trails of thick white on Five's pelt, on Dacien's chest and stomach. Five didn't cry out, though, the only voice raised in joy was Dacien's. Five's own exaltation was silent; its only evidence the quiver of the minotaur's frame, the spasming tightness on Dacien's shaft that intensified his own pleasure. It wasn't quite a whim, and yet something far from well thought out, but Dacien grasped the Five's head in both arms, pulling the minotaur into his own chest, gripping him tightly in the aftermath of their pleasure. Dacien was content to lay there, on Five, and he was a little surprised when Five squirmed - gently, ever so respectfully, out from under him, turning him over. Licking him clean; no rag, no cloth, just Five's rough tongue against him, licking him clean. "What ... what are ..." "I am cleaning my Master," Five said huskily. "As a slave should. If ... if I may." "You may," Dacien said gravely, waiting until Five had finished to motion him back to Dacien's side, and letting the minotaur cuddle up against him. "Thank you," Five said, after a while. Dacien said nothing, merely let his hand play with the short pelt on Five's head. They lay like this for a while, until sounds - like the distant cracking of thunder - reached the tent. And not just one, or two, or three strikes, but ... a hundred. More. Both Dacien and Five looked anxiously at the tent walls, anticipating the bright flash of lightning, but there was nothing. Just the short sharp cracks of thunder - only not quite thunder, different, lacking the terrible echo that true thunder had. And then, a few minutes after the thunder had started, it stopped, and the last crack vanished into the quiet that had preceded it. It was in that ominous silence that Lord Fog, his tunic ripped and still dripping with blood, came back carrying another minotaur. The two of them were soaked in blood, and Teodor staggered as he entered. Five blurred across the floor, suddenly there and offering support to both Teodor and the unconscious brown-and-black minotaur he was carrying. "Master?" he asked. "We ... we were surprised," Teodor said, his voice full of pain and exhaustion. "It seems the Imperial Army has a new weapon." "What sort of weapon?" asked Dacien, even as Five asked "Are you hurt, Master?" "I do not know, and yes, I was hurt," Teodor replied. Five helped Teodor over to the bed, where the gray minotaur set the other one down. "And this one ... may be too far gone. Let me work." "Oh," said Five, sinking to his knees. "Who ... who is he?" Teodor shook his head. "I don't know. I don't even know if I can save him; he's been hurt badly." Dacien felt the familiar gray cool of Teodor's magic, focused, carefully on the wounded one. "The Lord of Tongs, when he gets back, is very good at healing," Five started, but stopped at Teodor's abrupt head shake. "Luzeil is dead," Teodor said, with almost brutal directness. "Along with Orox, Taxx, ... and I don't know how many others. I survived ... partly by luck. This warrior survived, because he was still alive, and I could carry him." Teodor looked away from the minotaur he was working on. "I am sorry, Five." "Dead?" said Five. "But ..." A look of terrible loss crossed his face, the worse for being unexpected. "I'm sorry, Five" repeated Teodor. "But our duty is to the living."