I, Dacien

A Story by Onyx Tao

© 2013 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.

Chapter Twenty-One: Assessment

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Author's Note: A plot-critical passage in this Chapter was unclear. I have reworked it, and marked the passage in blue.

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Somebody -- probably at Teodor's direction -- had redecorated the Residence in the monochromatic dull shade of gray commonly referred to as dead fog, if not where Teodor's ears might pick up the term. As Te himself described it as dishwater, Sasha doubted if Teodor would mind. He probably wouldn't. Here and there Sasha noticed items he remembered from Mistingrise, or House Gray, and Gray Hôte, and realized that the new Patriarch had probably ordered all of the existing furnishings into storage, against the damage his mage-signature would inflict, and then brought in already-ruined items. Sasha appreciated Teodor's thoughtfulness, but ... how healthy could it be for Teodor to live in this endless haze? At Mistingrise, at least, Teodor had the gardens. Plants, Sasha decided. He hadn't seen any, and he knew Te was fond of them. He'd have a word with the house staff, and have plants rotated in and out of a conservatory to keep some color in Te's life. And, everybody else who worked and lived and visited the Patriarch's Residence.

But that would be for later, after he'd finished the report. Te already knew most of it; he'd reported to Ruus nearly a day ago. This was almost a formality. Almost, but not quite. There was ... something about hearing the report in person, having the other there to talk to, to ask questions, to get as full an understanding as possible of the events.

Events.

Disaster.

He could feel Teodor's concentration on his words, on his description of the ambush, heartbreak at the loss of Dacien, Bryant, and Kant. Dismay, when Sasha described the repeated warnings he'd received in Venrir. Dismay ... and, buried deep underneath, fear. Dismay, Sasha understood. Fear?

Why fear? What did Teodor know that ... Sasha didn't?

Not even the Patriarch of Lycaili should know more than Polychrome; and Sasha was Polychrome. All reports, all the facts, all the guesses filtered up to Sasha, Lord Daze, Lycaili's Polychrome, and he in turn reported to Lycaili's Patriarch. Admittedly, he'd been out of Lycaili for a time, and he needed to collect reports, but still ...

Something was wrong, above and beyond what he, Sasha Lord Doze, already knew. And that thought itself was enough to frighten him.

Finally, the last of the words, the last of the events, the last of the report was done, and there was just one more thing. Sasha had been preparing himself all along, but the words still burned as spoke. "Master, I have failed you." Sasha took another breath. "May I finish in private?" It surprised him to realize that Teodor hadn't been surprised. Could he have known?

"Yes, that would be best, I think," Teodor said, and Sasha felt the magic twist around them. Convenient, if unheard of, that a Patriarch would work his own privacy spell. "It is done. Before ..." and then Teodor paused. "No. I beg your forgiveness for the interruption. Continue."

"Lord Teodor, I think you must know I head Polychrome; I am Polychrome. Lord Cresphontes recruited me himself, a month after I was confirmed."

"So long," said Teodor, and then, "I had never guessed. I do not hold what happened in Ouroubouros against you, any more. I have accepted it that the deed was needful."

"It was, Master. And now I can tell you why."

"I ..." said Teodor, and then the gray minotaur sighed. "Does it matter, after all this time? Should I know? Will it come up to bite us?"

"No," said Sasha. "It is settled."

"Then it is settled," Teodor said. "Continue, My Lord Sasha."

"I did not anticipate the ambush, nor the assassination attempt," Sasha said. "The only excuse for what we -- what I -- do as Polychrome is to keep Lycaili safe, Master. I have failed, and the consequences ..." Sasha shook his head. "They are beyond disastrous."

"Yes," said Teodor. "They are."

"The only grace is that I placed a few protections in Dacien's psyche. But ... if they made a difference, I would have expected some news by now. So ... I ..."

"You are without hope," Teodor said.

"Yes," admitted Sasha.

"Well," said Teodor, and then, "Well. You are right, in that this disaster was yours to avoid, but I do not know that it could have avoided. Cresphontes thought that sending Chelm and Dacien as soon as possible to Xarbydis before rumours could spread of their powers would forestall ..." and the minotaur stopped. "This, all of this, I suppose, but ... not."

"I advised him," Sasha said. "I agreed with him."

"He might have done better to bring the matter to the Generals, or the Mages, and let there be more discussion," Teodor said. "I've found that no matter how well I think I've thought something through, somebody has a thought I didn't."

"Master, you should know -- perhaps you do -- that most of those discussions were staged. Cresphontes never opened the floor to debate unless he already controlled the discussion."

"I suspected he often controlled the debate ..." Teodor said quietly. "But always?"

"Always," Sasha said firmly. "He did not care for surprises, as you yourself know. Although he felt that surprises were a fine thing for others."

"Yes, that ... sounds right," Teodor said. "Well. I am not Cresphontes, and I do want open debate."

"Excuse me," Sasha said. "Master, you misunderstand. Cresphontes knew what all the opinions were before he brought a matter up for discussion. He did listen, he just ... did it beforehand."

"How ... time-consuming," Teodor said after a long pause.

"It was."

"Did Cresphontes ... ask you to ..."

"Invade minds?"

"Yes," said Teodor.

"Sometimes. Sometimes I did it on my own initiative, judging that it needed to be done."

Teodor nodded. "I have turned events over in my mind. Over, and over, and over. I made a list of all the persons who knew of Dacien's power, and then another list of all those who might have known of his power. I hope that one of them was merely indiscreet."

"You hope that?" Sasha couldn't keep the incredulity out of his voice.

"Better to be betrayed unknowingly," said Teodor. "The thought that one of these bulls ... betrayed Cresphontes and yourself to those so-called Scyllans fills me with revulsion, Sasha. I look at them, and I wonder. I have a task for you, My Lord."

"I exist to serve," Sasha said.

"Cleanse my mind of this doubt. Investigate, Polychrome, and let me be certain that those bulls who swore their fealty are worthy of their oaths."

"Yes, Lord Teodor."

"The matter of your failure," Teodor said.

"Yes?"

"It was defeat. Any bull may be defeated. I charge you, Sasha, to discover how it happened. And to that matter, I ... have another list."

"Another ..."

"Would you believe that Lord Green had a brilliant idea?"

"My Lord, that sounds like a trick question," Sasha said, and was rewarded with a brief laugh.

"Lord Green commanded that every minotaur who passed through our gates must write out a page of biography, detailing their name, clan, lineage, recent travels, and purpose in Lycaili. Without exception."

"Is that what ... yes, we did that at the border," Sasha said. "That was Xavien's idea?"

"His plan was to hand all those papers over to me."

"To ..." Sasha was quiet for a moment. "Your power to extract intent from writing," the brown minotaur said. "Brilliant ... yes, that was flash of brilliance. Although ... hard on you, I think."

Teodor shrugged. "I am still learning to prioritize my many duties, Sasha, and it is a struggle -- but learning about our enemies -- that, Sasha, is worth a great deal of my time. Although ... I do wish it required less of it," he admitted.

"A sheet takes me anywhere from a minute to five minutes to read. And although my time is at a premium, I have found a few bulls who were markedly dishonest in their application. I concentrated on those from certain time periods, right before and after the assassination, the next two days, and then the period -- three days -- after your own report reached us, judging that agents might come or go with reports. I have not finished even all of those, but I do have twenty-three dubious biographies. I've made notes as to what I gathered," Teodor said.

"My Lord Doze." Teodor's sentence wasn't a question, wasn't a statement; it was a confirmation.

And there was only one possible answer Sasha could give. "Master."

"Find these so-called Scyllans, Sasha. Find out why they assassinated Cresphontes, why Chelm was nearly killed, and why they stole Dacien. Find them. Find Dacien, whatever has been done to him, and ... whatever he's become."

"Master, I will." Sasha wasn't sure how he'd do that, but ... he would. He would.

"I believe you," Teodor said. "You mentioned something ... some kind of protection, something in the mind? Tell me about that."

"I ..." said Sasha, suddenly taken aback. "I thought you knew."

Teodor shook his head, no.

"I ... at Cresphontes' command, I placed triggers into the mind of all our seniors, all the other mages who are not mentalists. If any kind of ... meddling, interference, disruption, touched them, the bull would seek out me, or Lord Winter, or yourself, and keep seeking us out until the trigger was reset," Sasha explained. "I thought you knew ..."

Teodor had a somewhat faraway look. "Cresphontes ... might have hinted at that," he said finally. "No, it wasn't something I was conciously aware of. But I don't see how that would help Dacien if somebody attempted mindtwisting."

"If he were a prisoner, it wouldn't," Sasha said. "But compulsions are ... heavy things. They act in ... predictable ways. I buried something in his mind that would wash them away. It won't prevent the kind of mindrape that, forgive me for mentioning it, Dapple suffered. And something that ... extreme might even cut away the protection itself. But ... it was deep, and under the right circumstances, it would wash out any compulsions, and bring with it some memories I implanted -- a spell of sleep, and a spell of dissolution."

"Dissolution?" asked Teodor.

"This," said Sasha, placing the pattern in the front of Teodor's mind. He felt the mage look at it, analyze it, and saw the look of horror on Teodor's face. "I felt he needed ... a choice of weapons. But the spell of sleep may well be enough; he may not need to kill. And he does not know he has these spells available ... the memories would only trigger in a dire situation."

"Like the one he's presumably in now," Teodor said.

"Yes," said Sasha. "But ... Master, I do not want to give you hope. If it were to happen, it ought to have happened quickly. I fear it was either destroyed, found, or Dacien was defeated, even so. I do not offer hope, Teodor."

"And you think I should abandon hope, then?"

"I ..." Sasha looked down, at the gray rug on the floor. "I would not presume to tell Teodor, or Lord Fog, or the Master of Lycaili what do. For myself, though, I ... I do not expect to recover Dacien alive. I beg your forgiveness if that causes pain."

Teodor was silent for a long, long time, and Sasha simply waited. "I cannot fault you for speaking your mind," he said, his voice rusty. "It ... I thank you for speaking honestly, however unprepared I am to hear it. As for my forgiveness -- you have it. I will not pretend hearing you say that ... did not hurt." Teodor smiled weakly. "Between air mages, I doubt I could pretend."

"I could help ..."

"No," said Teodor. "It is not I who need that sort of assistance. Which ... brings me to another point."

"My Lord?"

"Xavien."

"What ..."

"Have you been ... influencing him? Keeping him stable?"

"Yes," said Sasha. "At Lord Cresphontes command. The extension spell has worn off, and he's aging again."

"But you didn't tell him?"

"No," said Sasha. "Again, at Lord Cresphontes insistance."

"Ah," said Teodor.

"My Lord?"

"You know he was Regent."

"Yes," said Sasha.

"And there was nobody to keep him stable. And he was unaware he was ... having issues?"

Sasha froze. "Oh, no. I didn't even think about that ..."

"Regent is no less stressful than Patriarch," Teodor said. "And maybe more so."

"What happened?"

"He fell apart," Teodor said. "He was taking euphorics -- overdosing on them, actually. What do you expect? Why do you think I had to arrest him? I had to do something to take the stress off while he recovered. Fortunately Ruus and Zachiah took the brunt of it, and I think between the three of us, we've ... managed to confuse the matter to the point where it won't show up in petty gossip."

"Unlikely," said Sasha. "But I'll see what I can do to suppress the story."

"Yes," said Teodor. "Suppress that story. Suppress it hard. I want everyone to know it's suppressed."

"What?"

"It's true, but it's not ... all the truth. And however embarassing it may be for Lycaili to have an overwhelmed Regent -- it's far preferable to the remainder of the story. I hardly need tell you this goes no further. You may discuss this with me, and only me. You may discuss it with the next Patriarch, if he brings it up, but otherwise not."

"I understand."

"Xavien forged a mage-blade," Teodor said softly. "And that is how he defeated the ninja attacking Cresphontes. They were ... crippled by their training, unable to adjust to a blade that sheared through theirs, even though they had a significant speed advantage. Think about that."

"I ... I will. I see. And that's why you ..."

"Xavien confessed to me, so I arrested him," Teodor said. "It also gave me a chance to wash the drugs out of him, stabilize him, and figure out that someone -- probably you -- had been working on him."

"Cresphontes ordered me not to say anything," said Sasha.

"In retrospect, a poor decision," said Teodor. "I understand it. I might have made it myself. But it remains the wrong decision. I don't know what records or logs you keep as Polychrome, but I've added a paragraph or two to the Patriarch's logs. Make certain that Polychrome never repeats the error."

"My Lord, I will."

"You may also expect Lord Green to discuss it with you. He had no way of knowing he was not up to the burden he shouldered," Teodor said. "He is ... aggrieved."

"No," Sasha said faintly. "I expect he will be angry."

"I think he's past that," Teodor said. "But I do expect you and him to settle this matter. Xavien must be kept stable if he's to continue as a mage. I cannot have an unstable mage. And I need you to do that; it's at the limit of my competence and, frankly, I do not have time for all the things that only I can do as it is."

"I understand," Sasha said. "I will ... apologize, and find some way to restore his trust."

"I am not authorizing any unusual means of doing so," Teodor said.

"I would never ... My Lord! How can you think such a thing?" Sasha protested.

Teodor looked at him, and shook his head. "I do not know you, Sasha, the way I thought I did. There is more, much more, to you than you ever permitted me to see. I have an absolute faith in your loyalty -- but I no longer feel that I know you well enough to be less explicit in stating my expectations. And, I have discovered, that sometimes a command from the Patriarch is treated as if it supercedes other limitations. Sometimes, I admit, those restrictions must be set aside -- I set them aside in your hunt for these Scyllans -- but sometimes they are set aside without the Patriarch's intending them to be so." Teodor grimaced. "You would not believe some of the things in the journals ..."

"I've never read them."

"They are a litany of warnings, errors, and failures," Teodor said. "Very depressing. But ... instructive. And here and there there are some unusual triumphs, as well."

"Useful, then," suggested Sasha.

"I have found it so," said Teodor blandly. "Was there anything else that needed discussion in private?"

"No, unless you wanted to know about Chelm."

Teodor looked at Sasha. "Sasha, of course I want to know about Chelm. There is something more than has been reported?"

"I took the liberty of creating much the same safeguard in Chelm as I did Dacien. Although without the spells; his mind did not accept them. His skill as a mentalist will be secondary to his other talents."

"Noted."

"Did you ..." Sasha paused.

"Yes?"

"Decide whom to apprentice him to?"

Teodor raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that best left to the council?"

"Ah ... I suppose. I just wondered if you had a ... preference."

"I prefer he go where he will be best serve Lycaili," said Teodor. "I do have some thoughts, but I would like to hear what my mages think." Teodor gave a quick smile. "They might have better thoughts, and I'd like to hear them before ... they are, ah, exposed, to my views."

"Yes," said Sasha. "Very well. And the meeting will be ..."

"When Lord Chimes schedules it, in consultation with Secretary Zachiah," said Teodor. "No doubt it will appear on my list of daily appearances soon enough." Teodor leaned forward. "I cannot imagine how Cresphontes found the time to see not merely to his responsibilities, but the responsibilities of all those who served him as well. I do not intend to continue that kind of leadership. I can't possibly manage it; it is beyond my capabilities."

"I see," said Sasha.

"That goes for yourself, as well. I expect you to see to those things that are your responsibility without my prompting, to inform me of what I need to know, and to come to when I should be involved."

The brown minotaur nodded. "I understand. Then, Lord Teodor, my first task is to see to the reports that have gathered in my absence."

The Patriarch nodded. "I will let Zachiah know your requests for my time carry an unspoken urgent priority unless you tell him otherwise. Is he a member of Polychrome?"

"I ..."

"Forgive me," said Teodor. "I don't need to know that. It was only that, if he is not, then perhaps he might be useful to you."

"Yes, My Lord."

"Perhaps," stressed Teodor. "It is only a thought, for you to act on, or not, as you see best."

"I will give it consideration, My Lord," Sasha said, considering. On the whole, he wasn't sure just what the point of adding Zachiah to his network would be, but Te clearly thought there was one. Sasha decided to think more about that. Somehow ... this wasn't what he'd expected when he'd heard that Teodor had succeeded Chresphontes.

"That's exactly what I wanted," said Teodor. "Now, was there anything else?"

"No, My Lord."

"Then I am bringing down our privacy ... now," and Sasha felt the magic collapse. "Thank you, My Lord Doze. I believe that settles the immediate matter?"

"It does, My Lord."

"Thank you, Lord Doze."

Sasha had heard that dismissal a thousand times from Cresphontes. Somehow, it seemed strange coming from Teodor.

Teodor had changed, was Sasha's first thought after the interview, as he slipped into a servant's corridor off the main hall. From what Te had said -- and hadn't said -- he could expect Xavien would be waiting for him, and the logical place for that would be at the entrance to the main hall. Sasha wanted to put that off for a time.

For a long time, Sasha added mentally. It hadn't been a good idea to keep the treatment secret from the patient, but Cresphontes was insistant, saying that he couldn't risk Xavien resigning before they had some replacement. Xavien wasn't merely their best healer, but he handled nearly all the extension spells and stabilization spells for their humans in addition to ... well, in addition to a thousand other things. Cresphontes had intended to ease Xavien down, ask him to concentrate on the various magics that only Lord Green could manage. He had started, but ...

The prospect of Xavien's being Regent had never occurred to him, and probably it hadn't to Cresphontes, either. But ... but, but, but, but, but. What could he say to Xavien?

And how had Xavien gotten into the pantry? And why?

Well, the why was obvious ...

"Lord Green," Sasha said cautiously.

"I'd like to speak with you, but, ah, not ... here. I have a rather nice set of rooms a flight or two away -- if you have time for me."

"I ... know," said Sasha. "I have several errands that are long overdue. Are you engaged for dinner? Although ..." he paused. "I beg your forgiveness. I can hardly invite myself to dinner."

"I think you just did," Xavien said. "But I am engaged, as it happens. Mage Chelm is dining with me, and I've asked Lord Teodor as well."

"I see," said Sasha. "Perhaps later, then? In the evening?"

"I retire early, on Lord Teodor's professional advice. But perhaps you could join me for breakfast tomorrow, a bell after dawn?"

Hideously early, thought Sasha. "I'm afraid I will be up very late tonight. Lunch? Around noon? I would be delighted to host that."

Sasha could feel Xavien thinking, without trying. He disciplined himself against dipping into Xavient's thoughts, and simply waited. "I think that will do, if you are hosting in your rooms here."

"Ah ... no, I had my house in mind."

"Then I regret I cannot. I can set one of the private rooms here for us, for lunch."

"That will do," said Sasha.

"Until tomorrow, then," said Xavien, and the black minotaur turned, and left.

* * *

"Soon," said the Great Lord, and although he might have been talking to anyone, there was only one other in the room. Although, Zebra thought, the Great Lord might be talking to himself. In any case, it didn't require a response, and this Great Lord didn't seem to like idle conversation any more than his first Master did. "Ah, there he is now." Xavien walked over to the door and paused, almost a formality, waiting for a gentle rapping to announce his visitor. The ebon minotaur swung the door open, and there, standing between two of Xavien's personal guard, was ... Zebra couldn't help the way his heart started beating. Master. His first Master. Very quietly, only to himself, Zebra couldn't help but think, Chelm.

"Lord Xavien," Chelm said, standing at the door of the Regent's Suite. "I got your invitation, although I do not understand it. Nevertheless, how may I serve you?"

The ebon studied the roan minotaur for a moment. "It is actually the other way round, Mage Chelm."

"I ... Have I been assigned to you, then, Lord Xavien?"

"No," said Xavien. "No determination has been made. Probably none will be made until Ianthos -- Lord Winter -- gets back from wherever he is on his grand tour. I may say privately that I would welcome you as an apprentice, but ... I do not think I will have that privilige."

"Lord?"

The ebon shook his head. "I wanted to speak to you about something else. Please, won't you come in?"

"Thank you, Lord Xavien," Chelm said, and entered the room, stopping abruptly as he saw Zebra. "Lord ..." he said, and then, "Lord Xavien. How do you come to have possession of that human?"

"Temporary possession," Lord Xavien said. "He presented a rather interesting challenge, and Lord Teodor, who is caring for him, thought I would be diverted by it." A minotaur smile came and went across his face. "As I understand it, this is technically your brother's slave, I believe."

"Yes, Lord Xavien. I left him there ..." Chelm paused, and then started again. "I thought he would be best cared for by Da ... by Mage Dacien and Lord Fog."

"Indeed," said Xavien. "Well, to make a long story short, Lord Teodor asked me to solve the riddle of Zebra's blood disorder."

"And did you, Lord Xavien?" The roan couldn't keep his eyes off Zebra. "He seems healthy. May I hope that ..."

"I did," said Lord Xavien. "This human had a idiosyncratic allergic reaction to the Ungoliant Black ink."

That, finally, restored Chelm's attention to the ebon minotaur. "The tattoos ..."

"Yes. But only the original, metal-based inks -- the true Ungoliant Black. There were a number of other formulations -- yours, I presume?"

"Yes," said Chelm.

"Your various formulae are quite safe, including the one you settled on to finish him with," Xavien said.

"What ... can the toxic ink be removed?"

"I have taken the liberty of doing so," said Xavien, and there was a sudden intake of breath from both Chelm and Zebra. "And replaced the toxic formulations with yours. I also exchanged the experimental versions for your final one, as well."

"I ... I thank you, Lord Xavien. That is ... that is above and beyond any expectation I could ever have held," Chelm said. "I ... Lord Xavien, I cannot thank you enough for this."

"Since he is not yours, but Dacien's, no thanks are needed," Lord Xavien said. "Although, I fear, your father wishes you to hold him until your brother's return. If you don't object, of course."

"Of course," said Chelm. He looked over to Zebra again, who was staring at his Master.

Who had come back for him.

"I doubt my father has bothered to keep him in shape," said Chelm, in a tone that fooled nobody in the room.

"He's had any number of responsibilities fall on him lately," Xavien agreed. "But Lord Teodor's Master of Slave, Warrior Benelaus Ouroubouros, has had Zebra as his charge for some time. He may be less out of practice than you fear."

"Good," said Chelm briskly. "Very good. Zebra."

"Master?"

"If ..." and Chelm, remembering himself, said, "Lord Xavien is quite done with us?"

"Quite done, for now."

"Then, Zebra, I think you should come with me. We will see how much of your skills you have lost."

"Yes, Sir!" said Zebra, shyly.

* * *

The council of Mages met as soon as Ianthos returned, summoned from Ancalagon once Sasha himself had returned. Sasha felt the lack of Dacien keenly in the way Teodor's gaze kept drifting over to the now-empty seat at his side. It should have been removed, but ... Teodor wasn't willing to let go just yet, and there was nobody to talk him down.

Or rather, Lord Teodor Lycaili wasn't of a mind to listen. Sasha knew he'd tried, Xavien had tried, and even Osaze had dropped a word, and Teodor simply said he wasn't ready to give up, not just yet.

From the looks that Ianthos was giving the Patriarch, and his glances at Dacien's chair, Sasha rather thought the violet would try, too, and Sasha wondered if he should warn him off.

"Thank you for coming," Teodor said. "There are a number of questions I have for this Council. Mage Chelm needs a master, and I would like your thoughts on that."

Sasha listened to the discussion, occasionally tossing in a comment, but the consensus was that Chelm should have an earth-affined master, which meant Xavien, Ianthos, Metrios, or possibly Trand. Except that nobody should have to work magic with Metrios, Xavien wasn't considered a good fit -- although nobody would say that pairing the ultraconservative Xavien with the ultraconservative Chelm was simply a bad idea -- and Ianthos was already working with Tarsis. Trand's name hardly came up at all until Teodor said, "What do you think of pairing Tarsis with another? He's learned a great deal from Ianthos. I know it's not traditional, but I had the pleasure of working with different masters, and I felt I learned a great deal."

Teodor gave a soft, secret smile, and turned to Xavien. "My Lord Green? What do you think?"

"About what, My Lord?"

"About switching Masters."

"In general? I have no idea. To let Tarsis work someone else? It depends on who he'd be studying under."

"And under whom should he study?"

"Why," said Xavien, his eyes narrowing, "I would defer to Ianthos on that."

"Yes," murmured Teodor, sounding almost disappointed. "Ianthos?"

"I ... My Lord, I'm not opposed, but ... I would like more time to think about this."

"Ah," said Teodor, sitting back in his chair. "Let us revisit the question in our next session. For now, though, Chelm needs a master, and I have not heard anything like a consensus."

"He needs to be with Lord Winter," Xavien finally said. "Tarsis should go to Metrios or myself. Only Lord Winter matches his affinities."

"Mage Tarsis -- do you have a preference?"

"My Lord? I ... I hadn't thought about it."

"I see," said Teodor. "Lord Run, do you feel up to keeping an eye on Tarsis for the next week?"

"I ... yes, certainly, Lord Teodor."

"Then, Lord Run, I would like you to do so. Lord Winter, you will take on Chelm as apprentice. I should like all of you -- including you, Mage Tarsis -- to consider who would be the best master for Tarsis." Teodor's glance swept across the room. "I agree that only Lord Winter is prepared to deal with Chelm, and Chelm needs instruction, immediately. I would like nothing more than to attend the confirmations of both Tarsis and Chelm as full Lords at the earliest opportunity."

"Of course, Lord Teodor," Trand said.

"Lord Doze, I should like to see you sometime tonight; please talk to Zachiah." Teodor rose. "No, My Lords, I am not dismissing the council; I leave it in Lord Chimes' capable hands. I simply have somewhere else I must be. Forgive me; I did not allot enough time to this. Perhaps in my absence you can come to some better understanding of the matters before us."

"Of course, Lord Teodor," said Lord Chimes.

"Please give some thought to ... Xavien's brainstorm. It may be ... we will have to share the details with the other clans -- something I am loath to do -- or retrench, and abandon them. I will look forward to your recommendations."

"As you wish, Lord Teodor. But shouldn't the Generals be debating the question as well?"

"Some of them, yes," said Teodor. "I beg your forgiveness. I know Zachiah is waiting for me outside now ..." and the Patriarch stood up to leave.

"Yes, Lord Teodor."

"My Lord?" asked General Zachiah, a few moments after Teodor left the mage's council. "What's wrong?"

"Anything that isn't what I say, apparently," said Teodor. "I never had any troubles disagreeing with Cresphontes. I made sure he had my opinions and thoughts, although -- of course -- I deferred to his decision. I am seriously considering removing from his position every officer and functionary who is too fearful of my displeasure to disagree with me!"

"That would be most of your government, My Lord. It's a bad idea."

"Thank you!" said Teodor, with a huff. "Yes, I know it's a bad idea -- that's why I find the temptation so insidious."

"My Lord, it's ... simply considered bad manners to disagree with you."

"Bad ..." for a moment Teodor was speechless. "Never. I am a single, solitary, far-too-busy bull. I cannot do the thinking for every bull in Lycaili."

"You don't, My Lord."

"It only feels that way, you mean?"

"It will take them time, My Lord. And ... I hesitate to broach the subject yet again, My Lord, but I feel I must."

"Dacien. Are you about to suggest that my refusal to give him a pyre is affecting this?"

"Yes," Zachiah said simply.

"That my instransigence on this is ... my intransigence in general."

"Lord Fog had a reputation for ... a certain obstinacy."

"Well, I can't ask for clearer speaking than that, Zachiah," Teodor said. "And I know I have nothing to go on save Ruus's percipient foreknowing, and that was long ago ... but I do have it. I cannot believe that the best outcome was for Dacien to come to me, and then ... be lost."

"Most think that the foreknowing was shorter term than that. And our having him, even for so short a time, has been a great good."

"I ... suppose it could have been," said Teodor. "But ... there was so much promise, of so much more ... no, Zachiah, I just ... cannot accept that interpretation."

"Because it doesn't make sense, or because you, Lord Teodor, will not accept it?"

"A week ago I would have said it doesn't make sense," Teodor said quietly. "Now? I don't know, Zachiah. It is a terrible thing to doubt oneself on such a point. And the thought that I have lost him ... hurts. He should have had so much more time ... he had such promise."

"I know, My Lord. I did not meet him, but ... he impressed everyone he did meet. Even Xavien, although the admission has to be dragged from him. He must have been remarkable."

"Yes," sighed Teodor.

"Perhaps, My Lord, it is that you spent so much energy defending that potential, that it is hard to surrender it now?"

"Oh, yes," said Teodor. "Without a doubt. And yet ... best possible outcome, Zachiah. Can it be this heartrending pain is the best possible outcome for Lycaili? For me? For Dacien?"

The ebon's eyes dropped to the ground. "My Lord, it seems to me that is the outcome. I am no prescient mage to shuffle through potential futures, and pick one that pleases me from the ones that do not."

Teodor nodded. "Thank you, Zachiah. Your words ... well, they do not comfort me but I did not ask you for comfort, and I do not want comfort. I want the truth, and well, if that will bring me pain -- I want that pain. Better, always better, to see the world-that-is."

"Yes, My Lord."

"Schedule a pyre for Mage Dacien, Warlord Bryant, and Warrior Kant a year and day from their abduction, in the unlikely event we can recover any bodies."

"Yes, My Lord." There was a pause, and then General Zachiah added, "My Lord, that is a brilliant and wise solution."

"It is bitter ashes and dust," said Teodor. "And so, to what assembly am I now late?"