I, Dacien Chapter 34 Consolidation -- ©2021 Onyx Tao

I, Dacien

A Story by Onyx Tao

Copyright 2021 by Onyx Tao

This work is licensed under a

Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 4.0 International License.

This is a free cultural work

Chapter Thirty-Four: Consolidation

His Serenity, Prince Lyo, stood calmly, balanced on the bowsprit at his guards, Captain Murako, and most of the sailors tried unconvincingly not to stare in horror. The prince could hardly explain that he was in no danger whatsoever. Lyo had even permitted the captain to place him in a ridiculous safety vest, and even connect a safety line, trailing like some embarrassingly long hempen tail. Nevertheless, the exhilaration of floating some forty feet or so above the water as the ship rose and fell to the rhythm of the ocean's mild swells was, to Lyo's mind, entirely worth the consternation it caused in his watchers. The remarkable freshness of the salt-laden breeze only added to the moment. His robes fluttered out around him, echoing the pennants high above that declared this an Imperial and Ambassadorial ship.

The human bosun lurked - or tried to lurk - inconspicuously at the fore of the ship, with another safety line, and two floats, presumably expecting that he'd be held responsible if catastrophe struck, and Lyo misstepped. That couldn't happen: Lyo was perfectly safe, floating in the moment like a feather caught in a thermal, balanced as precisely in time as he was on the bowsprit itself. Even if he somehow, impossibly, fumbled his balance the safety line would keep him from the water, although the impact against the ship would bruise him. Even if perfectus failed - which it would not - the sheer exuberant pleasure of floating suspended between sky and sea was fully worth any risk of harm.

If perfectus were less secret, Lyo thought, he could explain to the poor fretting bosun, who did not deserve the anxiety Lyo was inflicting on him. Or on his guard. He wondered, idly, for a moment, just what their reaction might be when he explained that, despite appearance, he was safer here than he could have been in the Palace, or would be, once they reached the West.

His guard would disagree, of course. Vehemently. Lyo could even sympathize with them, knowing how they were fretting. Deep water posed a danger to minotaur as they were denser than the sea-water below. If that impossible thing happened - if Prince Lyo fell into the water below, if the safety line snapped, then the lurking bosun would have less than ten seconds to reach him before he sank below the waves.

Then again, he thought, they might as well have something to fret over. To some extent, the Imperial Princes and Consorts and even the Emperor himself existed to give the ebon and pristine warlords something to expend their honor and ferocity on. A public service, so to speak. Still, every prisoner deserved some fresh air and exercise, and the sea-salt breeze was far different than anything he'd ever experienced before. This might well be his only chance to enjoy it - and he was determined to revel in it while he could.

Floating between sky and sea also provided a private moment to consider the various reports from Lycaili and Leviathan, as well as the private intelligence he'd garnered from his uncle Consort-Prince Razu Hawking, the Emperor's Gift to Mosura. Matters were disturbed in the West, Razu had warned him. One could feel the impending chaos. Coming from one mandamus initiate to another, that was not the vague warning that the inevitable eavesdroppers would think.

The Consul's report, along with his brother Noroma's brief messages had left him ... puzzled. What private business could Xavien Alexander have in Leviathan? His Serene Highness, Prince Lyo Kelvin, drew in great refreshing lungfuls of salt-wet air as he turned the scant facts over in his mind. The message from Teodor Tzara had been as formal as anything prepared in his father's own court, but still, Lyo found it charming in its gently hinted concern for their compatibility. Compatibility. Did Teodor Tzara think that truly mattered? Turmoil and confrontation roiled the Far West ; with ninja and human-warfare and buried clan grudges resurfacing, all stirred by -

Nobody, as far as Razu could tell. Razu's briefing had left Lyo with the impression that his Imperial Father had known all these things when he sent Lyo off to be Lycaili's Consort. Which was to say, to ensure that chaos was quenched before anything ... untoward ... could happen.

Nobody might know to blame the Oto for Scylla and Xarbydis except the Oto themselves ... but they knew. He knew, his father knew, his Imperial Highness Lyo's brother Noroma knew. And Lyo knew one more thing.

Lyo Kelvin Oto would not allow it to happen again.

* * *

"Bounce?" asked Guildmaster Iudas rather worriedly to his cousin. "I mean, Bounce? I thought you'd - were going to assign him to the fields. Is he ready to serve as a valet? Especially to a guest of Mage Dacien's stature? I mean no questioning of your skills, Coz, but he's had minimal time in the house, and ... I'd really be more comfortable with someone more experienced. Sheets, for example."

"Bounce," repeated Dellios firmly. "Sheets will be seeing to General Trevor, Togs to Lord Tarragon, and Fort to Lord Xavien. Grain has to be in the kitchen - I can't spare him, or any of the others with kitchen experience. I'm not saying we're understaffed, but ..."

"But Lord Xavien has his own entourage," Iudas said. "Why not put Bounce there, where he'll have three seniors watching him?"

"Stacey may have mentioned that Lord Xavien has limited tolerance for ferals - even _ex-_ferals - and that if at all possible, it's best to keep them away from him," Dellios admitted.

"Well!" said Iudas. "And Mage Dacien doesn't?"

"Apparently not," said Dacien. "From our conversations, I've gotten the impression he's familiar with them."

"That sounds like a story, Coz."

"One I don't know," Dellios said. "Mage Dacien won't discuss it, beyond a certain point. But he is familiar with ferals, and I admit I am curious. Putting a tamed feral with him might be ... revealing. Mage Dacien is odd, very odd, in both what he knows and what he doesn't."

"I am not so oblivious that I had not noticed, but I had attributed those oddities to the mental savaging he received," Iudas said slowly. "You think something else is not right?"

"Not all of it. I think ..." Dellios started, only to be interrupted by his cousin.

"Think so, or feel so?" Iudas asked sharply.

"I am unsure," Dellios admitted. "It is ... I am unsure. But I cannot tell if it be intuition or premonition."

"That is alarming," Iudas said slowly. "Your sense is usually reliable ... but ..."

"Then you consider it," Dellios said. "Your sense is superior to mine."

"I have no opinion, in either sense," Iudas said. "But then, it is hardly a matter that would concern me, so I have no reason to have an opinion. Mage Dacien's well-being concerns me, and on those grounds, I have no immediate concerns. Lord Xavien is ..." and Iudas paused, almost thunderstruck. "Returning here?" he said, sounding confused for a moment. "But ..."

"Wolachya?" asked his cousin.

Iudas paused, listening for an inner prompting, and shook his head. "No. Nothing. It is ... as if he is no longer within my relevance, which - if that be so - is nothing but good."

"Can you tell if he's ..."

"No," Iudas said crossly, interrupting his cousin again. "I can't. Lord Xavien is, Lord Trevor is, Lord Tarragon, Mage Dacien ... all are relevant to me. Wolachya was relevant, and has been ever since we moved here, but that's hardly surprising given that he was our neighbor. But ... he no longer impinges on me. Perhaps General Trevor has taken him into custody."

"Or, if Lord Xavien is returning, perhaps he's dead."

"I am ashamed to admit I would feel no sorrow upon such news - the opposite, if anything - but I suspect Lord Xavien simply arrived too late, and Lord Tarragon had already taken possession of him. He could not issue his challenge were Wolachya arrested."

"He seemed intent on issuing it," Dellios said doubtfully.

"If he had," Iudas said, "is there any doubt in your mind that it would have been he who dropped from our relevance?"

"Point," admitted Dellios, slowly. "Although he did seem confident in his challenge ..."

"Then however it has fallen, it has fallen well: Lord Xavien is still alive, and General Wolachya is out of our lives, at least for the foreseeable future."

"Agreed," Dellios said. "On both counts." He took a breath. "Then we must ready ourselves for a second deluge of guests." He looked at Iudas. "Do you mind?"

"Mind? I'm enjoying it," Iudas said. "Although I could do with less unfortunate circumstances." He frowned. "If I could think of any such that might bring Lord Xavien here. Del? Do you think it would be presumptuous to ask ... Lord Xavien for help with Xerxes?"

"And even if it were?" asked Dellios, shaking his head. "Ask. Ask! All he can say is 'no'".

"That is true," Iudas said. "And on that note ... I hear you carefully not saying that we are understaffed. What if we asked Meliander and Hieronymus if we might borrow - for a week or two - some house staff? Their house is almost as big as this one, usually as empty, and ..."

"Are they under some obligation to you?"

"Nothing they cannot afford," Iudas said, sounding a little hurt. "I suggest them because they have been friendly, they're only a few miles away, they have the staff, and yes, they do have reason to stay on good terms with me. With us, I should say."

"If there is significant obligation, I will need to offer some token recompense - that is actual recompense," Dellios said. "We do want to remain on good terms with our neighbors."

"And so we ought," Iudas answered. "But some material token - some cases of wine, perhaps? That lovely Gozreh honey brandy?"

"I thought you hated it."

"Only to drink, Coz, only to drink. But it is rare on this side of the sea, and we have ... well, more than we can use. And it's a lovely color, the bottles are gorgeous, and there is a ready market for the stuff in Angcalagon, if they'd rather liquidate it than drink it."

Dellios laughed. "And you know to the star just how much it would fetch, don't you."

"About nine hundred fifty suns for one hundred and forty-four bottles. We have one hundred and forty-three."

"That's ..." Dellios paused, thinking. "Generous."

Iudas nodded. "For fifty trained staff, for a week? Yes, but not ... insultingly so."

"That sounds appropriate, then. And no, I won't let them know I consulted with you first or have any idea of its market value."

"Yes, of course." Iudas smiled again. "We do make a good team, Coz." He paused. "Only, really. Del, do find some way to warn them not to drink the wretched stuff."

"I was thinking you still had the open bottle in the liquor closet in your study?"

Iudas' muzzle twisted in a grin. "I believe I do," he said with an approving smile. "Left side, one shelf up from the bottom. And Coz - don't fret about bringing any back."

* * *

Lord Xavien had been quiet upon his return to Iudas' home, accepting only a glass of water, the bare minimum to preserve courtesy, and even that, he had barely sipped. He deferred the cousins' questions with a simple request to use Iudas' conservatory. Dellios and Iudas followed him through the house to that room, trailed in turn by Xavien's silent guards. The conservatory, a simple greenhouse built onto the house itself, had only a couple of humans in it, tending to a number of seedlings.

"Please, carry on," Xavien said. "Do not let us distract you from ..." he paused, looking at the worktable where they were working, moving tiny sprouts of green from small pots to larger ones. "... your nasturtiums," he finished.

"I think this would be a very good time for a break," Dellios said, waving the humans out of the room."

"I have no desire to interfere with the tasks of your house," said Xavien as the two hurried out of the chamber. "Especially under such circumstances. I beg your forgiveness."

"There is no need of it," Iudas said. "You are welcome in my house, and the conservatory is at your disposal for ..." he paused. "What are you doing?"

"Repotting nasturtiums," said Xavien, who had wandered over to the now-abandoned workbench, and was doing exactly that. "These are well-started, and in some danger of being rootbound. The sooner they can stretch into new soil, the better. Your gardeners have picked an excellent point to repot them."

"Ah ..." said Dellios. "I see. Well. I will take your word on it; your expertise in matters botanical is well known."

Iudas looked askance at his cousin. "What?"

"Sometimes, a little growth can cause a great deal of change," Dellios said carefully.

"True, but I'm only talking about the nasturtiums," said Xavien. "I had a ... stressful morning, and gardening, plants, working with soil ... relaxes me. I'd hardly call Socks rootbound, and I was not intending to discuss that until dinner. I simply needed - need - to ... calm myself. The day was ... not what I had hoped."

"Because Wolachya was arrested before you could challenge him?" asked Dellios.

"No, because I killed him, and it was remarkably unsatisfying," Xavien said, dribbling potting soil around a seedling stretched ambitiously upwards. "He caused so much damage, and ..."

"You killed him?" said Iudas. "Wolachya is dead? At your hand?"

"Yes," said Xavien, setting the pot down and picking up another seedling.

"But that is ... astounding!" said Iudas.

"Is it?" asked Xavien, sounding almost mildly puzzled. "But, whyfor? I am not astounded, it is what I had intended, predicted, and even declared would happen. To both of you. Why, then, are you astounded?"

"Because ... and I do not mean to offend, Lord Xavien, but his reputation for skill in both arms and tempus were hard-earned. I had thought him one of the most deadly of bulls."

"I grant that he destroyed enough lives to be considered so," Xavien said. "He will ruin no more. And I do not care to discuss that embarrassment to Alexander further - he is gone. I will not invite even his memory back."

"Of course," Dellios said, glancing at the gardening table. "Do you work in your own greenhouse?"

"Greenhouses," Xavien said. "Yes. When I may. It is, my brother mage says, therapeutic. I do not have such leisure as often as I would like. I assure you, I will take great care with your nasturtiums; you need have no concern for them."

"I was not concerned, particularly, with them," Dellios said. "I admit I am curious - very - as to the events of the morning, but if you are not ready to discuss them, then I will not press."

"That is ... appreciated," Xavien said, slipping the now-repotted plant with the others, and picking up another, carefully loosening the soil around the edges of the plant. "I am reflecting on them; I do not pretend to understand what I have done. I had thought, that, killing him, I would feel satisfaction, or vindication, or perhaps simply relief ... but I felt none of those things. It was simply a task done, neither enjoyable nor unpleasant. It was not ... it was not what I had anticipated. And, I have another conundrum to ponder."

"Another?"

Xavien stopped, and turned to face the cousins. "I want Socks. He is suited to me in a way that no other lens could ever be. I cannot make you understand, either of you, as you are not mages. Perhaps, if you invited him to share the perception, my brother-mage Sasha could. Perhaps. He is an accomplished mentalist, where I ... I have no such strengths. But ... of ten thousand lenses, Socks would be my choice, and I would be content to have him and no other."

"We were aware," Iudas said. "Such matters I leave to Del's discretion."

"I have spoken with your Stacey," Dellios said. "He has convinced me you would be a good master for Socks. Even that you are worth such a prize - and I do count Socks as such."

"I promise only to make my best attempt to be so," Xavien said. "Many of my former certainties have crumbled of late. At the very least, though, Stacey will not let me wander too far astray."

"Then what is this conundrum?"

"I have nothing to give in return for him," said Xavien. "No, hear me out," he said, as Dellios started to object. "What you - both of you - have done for Lycaili, and my Master, and Dacien, is a debt I - we - cannot balance. There is no favor, payment, nor request that my Master would refuse you. And I feel the same. At this point, I can - could - deny either of you nothing. And whatever the request, be anything but delighted to have some small way to repay what you have done."

The ebon minotaur set the pot down. "It is not merely that you came to Dacien's aid when he needed it, although that is a large part of it, but that you defied a mindbender and an unknown conspiracy within your own Clan to do so. Without hesitation, from what I hear from Dacien and Bryant. I ... I hope I could do as well, were our positions reversed, but I dare not say it." He picked up the pot again. "Sometimes it takes me some time ... and help ... to understand where honor lies."

"There is one thing," Iudas said. "One thing I was going to beg of you."

"Iudas," said Dellios warningly.

"No, coz," Iudas said, and took a breath. "Dellios has told you, something, I think, of my brother."

"Briefly," said Xavien.

"You say I have been of some service to you? I might quibble, and say that what we have done is only what any honorable bull would have done, and you will not convince me otherwise. For what I have done - what we have done - if you truly believe yourself in our debt, then I ask you to accept my forgiveness of it, and only think well of myself, my cousin, and Leviathan. We have our own failings, I assure you, to allow such corruption to fester without our knowing. If anything, Dacien deserves our deepest gratitude for allowing us to make amends for Wolachya. I could as easily say I am as deeply in Lycaili's debt, as you say Lycaili is in mine."

"You are gracious," Xavien said. "I think I understand how you feel, but again, you are ..." the ebon paused for a long moment. "...Gracious," he finally repeated. "What you ask is a small thing, and seems too easy - but having said I can refuse you nothing - how can I refuse? My Master may berate me for selling Lycaili's deep debt to you so cheaply, but ... it shall be as you wish." A grin twisted his muzzle. "I am outbargained, Guildmaster Iudas, and admit it."

"Dellios," said Iudas. "Will you cede Socks to Lord Xavien? Are you satisfied?"

The darker minotaur sighed. "Other than Lord Xavien's distressful habit of challenging murderous grandmasters - he'll do."

"Then, Lord Xavien, I give Socks to you. If you feel at all in my debt - and I am not sure you should - then I would ask that you use your influence to seek my brother. Xerxes. And should you find him, I will feel as deeply indebted to you as ever you have to us. I will not speak for Dellios, but ..." and the pale green minotaur glanced across at his cousin.

"Yes. I, too," said Dellios. "I do not burn for this quite the way Iudas does, but ... I burn, Lord Xavien. For the sake of both my cousins."

"I understand," Xavien said gravely. "And I accept. Although, I do protest: I do not make a habit of challenging murderous grandmasters. It was just the once."

Dellios' brow arched in something like amusement. "Lord Xavien, for some things, once is more than enough."

* * *

Socks cast quiet glances around the laundry shed. The arrival of a Great Lord and his entourage inevitably meant a great deal more work in the household. His Master (Dellios, although Socks tried hard not to think of him as anything but Master) had assigned Socks to assist with the laundry, rather that the equally suddenly-overwhelmed kitchen. This was good, in that got him away from the visiting Great Lord, a towering ebon bull who intimidated Socks as no other minotaur ever had. The Great Lord - Xavien - had a strange effect on Socks, and his own Masters had not failed to notice. Somehow, regardless of where he was or what he was doing, Socks could practically feel the Great Lord watching him. Even when the Great Lord was far away (and how was it that Socks knew just how far the Great Lord was at any moment?), Socks couldn't shake the impression that the Great Lord was right behind him. Watching him. Fortunately, Master Dellios, whom Socks usually served personally, had kept Socks away from both the visitors and the Great Lord.

He had not, however, expected one the visiting Great Lord's stewards to just appear, with three of the Great Lord's human attendants while he worked. Nor had he expected the steward to take a seat, and vaguely instruct two of them - Breaker and Waiter - to make themselves useful. Dog, apparently, was left to huddle behind the steward, who put a reassuring hand on the twitching human's back as he settled into a fearful hunch at the steward's feet. Socks hadn't seen much of Dog, but ... he didn't seem very functional.

Making themselves useful seemed surprisingly difficult for the other two. Breaker folded clothes slowly, and Waiter just stood at the mangle, either unsure of how to use it, or unwilling. The steward watched for a moment or two, and then got up, carefully showed Waiter how to feed wet clothes through the device before returning to a now visibly upset Dog, who had started shaking as the steward walked away from him. A few moments of comforting Dog, and then the minotaur was back up, showing Breaker how to fold clothing correctly, as opposed to the uneven and practically random way he had been doing it. This did nothing to improve Breaker's speed - Socks could have folded four times as many sheets in half the time - but as least they were being done right. Steam had - discretely - taken the misfolded sheets and was putting them back to rights.

The minotaur again returned to watching, and stroking Dog, murmuring reassurances to him, although Socks wasn't convinced it was helping the human. He seemed just as agitated and restless as when he came in, but then, perhaps that was just Dog's normal.

Although ... Socks couldn't help but wonder just what was wrong with Dog. Something ... something was off, and it seemed unusual. Generally their masters just ... didn't permit that. Socks had seen humans recover within days even from the worst accidents. Socks wasn't entirely sure what that entailed, but the masters seemed able, willing, and even determined to make sure their humans were in good condition. Certainly Delios - Socks' Master, Socks amended mentally, had. Did. And that led to the question ... what had happened to Dog that even the Masters couldn't fix it? And ... how had it happened? It wasn't his business, Socks knew that. Without any doubt whatsoever, this was clearly the business of Masters, not for humans, and absolutely not for Socks. But ... he couldn't help but wonder. Perhaps some troubles and difficulties were beyond even the Masters' ability to fix.

Perhaps, some things couldn't be fixed.

It wasn't a comfortable thought, but as he hung tunics and breeches up on lines to dry, he had to wonder.

Their tasks ended when Steam chivvied them off, fresh slaves coming in to continue the work. (With over seventy minotaur on the estate, laundry was never completely done: tablecloths and napkins from dinner had to be cleaned overnight, along with various bags of personal items labeled by owner, and in the morning, there would be yet more bedding, nightclothes, and towels. Repairs, as well, buttons to reattach or replace, small tears to close, hems to resew ... some stains (not from lobster bisque, fortunately) might require bleaching and overdying to remedy.

Socks was more than ready to turn over the unending tasks to the next shift, but that was merely the first of two unexpected things. Socks knew all the slaves on the estate, of course, most by name but all by face - and he didn't recognize six of the humans walking, a little uncertainly, into the laundry. That was odd, but ... it would be like Master Dellios to know when the staff needed help. Less unexpected than welcome surprise.

Being told by Lord Xavien's steward to come with us, however, at the end of shift was completely unexpected. Socks swallowed as his stomach dropped down to his toes, after giving Steam a quick glance. Steam moved his head just enough to let Socks know he'd seen it, but ... there wasn't much even a steward like Steam might do until one of the Masters asked him.

The five of them walked silently back around the garden, and into the back of one of the guest suites - where Nicolai had stayed with Bale. Socks looked around, but there was nothing left from that, of course. The room looked as if the covers had just been whisked off the furnishings, and dusted thoroughly, ready for a guest, and Socks nodded to himself approvingly. A couch had been moved, to expand the conversation area around the fireplace, he realized, and several cushions had been artfully scattered across the rug in front of the fireplace. There was a crystal decanter in a cabinet, now full of dark-gold brandy (or something similar), and ... yes, there were a few hints that the suite was in use, rather than about to be used, but neat, very neat, nonetheless.

"Socks, you'll be with us here for ... the foreseeable future," Stacey said, breaking the silence, and apparently not noticing the sudden glances from Breaker and Waiter. "Dinner will be soon, but later than you're used to eating. Are you particularly hungry?"

"No, Sir, I can wait."

The minotaur looked at him, nodded vaguely. "You may correctly address me as Master," Stacey said. "You are now part of this household. Your Master wants you to attend him, and you will eat at that time."

Dog let out a whimper, and Stacey picked him up. "Hush, hush," he crooned. "It's fine. It has nothing to do with you, and you'll be with him tonight. Don't fret. It's all fine," he said, as he comforted Dog. "In the meantime ... Socks, take a bath. Breaker, Waiter ... both of you settle. Now." That last word wasn't louder, or ... different, really, but Socks heard the emphasis like the crack of a whip.

The two dropped instantly to the floor, and Stacey just gave a deep sigh as he looked at Socks. "Bathe," the minotaur repeated, turning his head to watch the other two.

Socks bathed as quickly as he dared, consistent with actually being clean. About three-quarters of the way through, low but deep voices told him that another bull had joined Stacey. He came out to find Master Dellios sitting across from Master Stacey, discussing, of all things, nasturtiums. Stacey was describing a gold-toned red variant that the Great Lord had developed, and Dellios was just putting down a tiny liqueur glass half-filled with deep red something; Socks would guess some fortified dessert wine, but since he wasn't serving, it didn't matter. He did - almost - go to Master Dellios rather than Master Stacey, but Socks caught himself before he could make such a humiliating blunder. He was too well-trained to look up at Master Dellios, but he could feel the bull's attentions, nevertheless.

"Breaker, you're next," Stacey said.

"I would prefer not," Dellios broke in.

"Breaker, sit." Stacey said quickly. "Guild Senior?"

"I would prefer to start now." Dellios smiled fondly at Socks. "If that is acceptable to you."

"Yes, Guild Senior, as you think best. Breaker, Waiter, I have some good news for you," Stacey announced. "I know you were both concerned about Socks joining us, especially since his training is complete. I had a few words with your Master, and I have convinced him that you - both of you - would benefit from some advanced training yourselves. I am an indifferent trainer at best; it was never my focus, and ... I have exhausted my small store of expertise with the two of you."

Socks didn't say anything, of course, but neither Breaker nor Waiter seemed to understand that Master Stacey was not pausing for them to interrupt him.

"Master -" they started.

" Silence ," said Dellios, and he waited for a long moment past the echo's fade. "There is a time and place to set aside the normal protocols of behavior, but this is not such a time. Your Master has entrusted both of you to me for a time. He had always intended to allow Guildmaster Talosh to ... deepen your understanding of what may be expected from you, but regrettably, he did not have the time to do so, and now that he does - the Guildmaster is unavailable."

"Guild Senior Dellios," Stacey said, "is as highly regarded as Guildmaster Talosh was. Perhaps more so."

"I don't think ..." Dellios started, but Stacey just shook his head.

"I speak of my personal regard, Guild Senior. I do not think Talosh himself could have bettered your handling of Bale."

"Truly?" asked Dellios. "I never had the pleasure of meeting him, but ... Guildmaster Ladislas held him in something like awe."

"I have met Ladislas only once, Guild Senior," Stacey said. "And we did not converse, so I cannot know. I did have the privilege of study with Guildmaster Talosh. I do not claim anything like his expertise - if I learned anything from him, it was that some matters should be left with true experts. But I do think I learned enough to recognize that expertise, when I ..." and Stacey paused. "When I trip over it, I suppose I should say."

Socks blushed, and Stacey stroked his hair approvingly. "And I certainly recognize it in you."

"I am nothing like Talosh ..."

"No," Stacey said. "You are nothing like Talosh. But that does not make you less expert, it simply makes you ... Dellios, and not Talosh."

"Kindly said," Dellios acknowledged, "very kindly said. Nevertheless, you were ..." and he motioned to the other two humans.

"Yes, Guild Senior, thank you," and Stacey's regard turned back to the now-trembling Breaker and Waiter. "As I was saying, the two of you present ... needs I cannot, and may not, meet. Your new Master, however, will take excellent care of you."

"I shall," Dellios said, with a very, very slight smile. "Both of you must be eager to begin, I am certain, so that you may return all the sooner to your Master. Yes?"

There was a short period of silence. Socks saw both of them nodding, and focused his eyes firmly on the carpet to suppress his embarassment at their failure to respond verbally. He wasn't sure what Master Dellios would say, but ...

Fortunately, Master Dellios seemed to be in a lenient mood. "This is where you two say, 'yes Master, thank you, Master,'" Dellios prompted. "To me."

The response from the two was subdued, but could be thought to echo that. "That was ... lacking," Dellios said calmly, "but not altogether hopeless. Your designations are Breaker and Waiter, and I understand your Master bestowed them. I am removing them for now, you will respond simply to One and Two - no need to thank me yet. Stand, both of you, and follow me. We have some preliminaries to dispose of before we settle down for the night."

Dellios himself rose. "Socks. I am extremely pleased with you. Your Master is extremely pleased with you. I believe you will be very happy with him. You will bring your concerns to - whom?"

"Either Master, Sir."

"It's always so hard to let go," Dellios said quietly, walking over to him. "You will do well, Socks, very well," and Dellios kissed the top of his head.

"We will take proper care of him, Guild Senior," Stacey said. "My master and myself; I promise you we will meet his needs."

"I know," Dellios answered. "I know. Please assure your Lord I will take proper care of these." He turned briefly to the now-renamed One and Two. "Come," he ordered, and left the room. Socks watched them leave, without moving his eyes.

The deep voice startled Socks - it came from directly across the room, from the greatchair across from Master Stacey, but ... that chair had been empty. "I am falling deeper and deeper into debt to these cousins, Stacey."

"Yes, My Lord," Stacey said. "I have found myself doing the same. Guildmaster Iudas permitted me to use his ritual chamber - My Lord, have you seen it?"

"No," said Master Xavien, who - Socks had looked surreptitiously over at the greatchair - was unquestionably sitting there. "It is ..."

"It is superior to yours, My Lord, in several respects. It supports all three divisionals, and there is provision to use multiples. Its alignment is ... well, I could not detect any deviance, and, my lord, I suspect the circle can be calibrated. Either that, or there has been neither drift nor shift since it was built. I had not thought that possible."

"It is ... conceivable, but I would have thought it infeasible, without magecraft," Master Xavien said. "I take it my chamber ..."

"When I last used it, it was off by a tenth of an arc-second, My Lord. Well within working tolerances, but ..."

"I will realign it. Will that do? Or do you want the militial divisionals?"

"Of course I want them, but I have no idea what I would use them for," Stacey said, with a brief smile. "Don't you want them?"

"Of what use are they, when any militial ritual may be reworked? What purpose does Iudas have for them?"

"I asked, and he said that compared to the overall expense of the chamber, adding them was an afterthought. Which is why I think the chamber itself can be recalibrated."

"Intriguing," said Master Xavien. "But was there more?"

"Yes. I had a long conversation with Guild Senior Dellios about Dog. The situation is not completely without precedent, and he had some valuable insight, but it is hardly a common conundrum."

"I did not think you would find help there," the ebon sighed. "Still. I am glad you had the thought to ask."

"The Guild Senior did have some worthwhile things to say, My Lord, just ... that the situation was outside his experience."

"Something beyond what we have already tried?"

"Several things, My Lord, but they will have to wait until we are home. And, My Lord, until you can be available, at home, for a period of months."

"Ah," said Master Xavien. "Yes. I see. That ... that is not surprising, given ... unfortunately, I cannot do without him. Where I go, so must he. Especially if I have surrendered Breaker and Waiter ... Socks will be more useful, but there is only one of him."

"But, My Lord."

"But?" asked Master Xavien.

"Mage Dacien is ..." Sock's ears popped, and the noises of the house ceased. Startled, he looked up, and saw Master Xavien speaking intently - but only seeing. There was no noise.

"Master?" he tried to say, and a moment later, the sounds returned.

"Socks," Master Xavien said. "I have been ... indiscreet. You know it is not appropriate to discuss what Stacey and I may say to one another to anyone, for any reason, do you not?"

"Yes, Master. Of course. I would never ..."

"I know," said Master Xavien. "But neither I nor Stacey should not impose our secrets upon you, regardless. I understand that you have not yet eaten."

"No, Master."

"Neither have I. Stacey, you can see to Dog's needs, I presume?"

"Yes, My Lord; your dinner awaits."

"Thank you, Stacey," Master Xavien said calmly. "Socks, accompany me."

* * *

By the time Socks got into bed next to Master Xavien, he was so sleepy from the lengthy dinner - it had pleased Master Xavien to feed Socks by hand, from Master Xavien's own plate - that all he wanted was to cuddle next to the warmth of his Master. Gloriously, Master Xavien pulled him closer to him, surrounding him in the deep pine and herb scent that seemed to accompany all minotaur, and simply held him until he dozed off. Dog, crawling into bed from the other side, barely registered on Socks, and that more because Master Xavien shifted to accommodate the human.

From time to time, life could be very good indeed.