Chapter Text
“It’s not dunamancy,” Essek says, “but would you like me to show you something else I’ve recently picked up?”
“Of course,” Caleb replies eagerly. If Essek is beginning to volunteer spells to teach him, they have finally achieved a measure of trust.
“It will allow us to exchange thoughts without speaking. Not just thoughts, but images, sounds, and whatever other sensory information we choose. However, neither of us will be able to read thoughts that are not at the forefront of each other’s minds, and we should be able to exert some control over the information we send. It requires your consent, of course.”
“Ah,” Caleb says, trying to think quickly. To grant Essek access to his mind requires quite a lot of trust. The man has yet to lie to him about the effects of any spell he’s shared, but there could hardly be a better first time for it, if Essek is truly seeking information he believes Caleb is hiding. And yet this spell could be of substantial use to Caleb. True, Essek has not yet offered to teach it to him, but this could be a first step, and it would be a substantial show of faith on Caleb’s part.
Essek, seeing him hesitate, says, “If you become uncomfortable, you may dispel it at any time. And please do not let me put pressure on you. I only mention it because it is new to me, and I am still eager to learn the limits of what it allows.”
It’s a motivation that Caleb understands completely, and in the end, it is too tantalizing an opportunity to pass up. “Please show me,” he says.
Essek nods and pulls a pair of linked silver rings from his pocket, spinning them between his fingers as he murmurs the incantation. Caleb feels the slight tickling at the base of his neck that warns him of another’s presence in his mind, and with a deep breath, he nods at Essek and grants access.
If he was expecting some grand, dramatic entrance, he is surprised at the unobtrusiveness of the entrance of Essek’s consciousness within his own. There is perhaps a slight feeling of incorporeal pressure, an added fullness within his mind, but no more than that.
Caleb, can you hear me?
He’s staring right at Essek, whose lips don’t move.
I… can? he ventures back. If he closes his eyes and extends his imagination, he can feel a similar part of his own consciousness that is beyond the confines of his body – presumably, in a corresponding place in Essek’s mind. Still, it takes a little effort to form words, and Caleb finds he needs to close his eyes to concentrate.
Essek seems to be having no such difficulties. Allow me to send you an image. Please tell me when you receive it.
The image starts blurry, as though Caleb has just woken up and is still struggling to make his eyes focus. However, it slowly becomes clearer until Caleb can make out first colors, then shapes, then details. While it never becomes perfectly lifelike, Caleb soon recognizes a cupcake frosted with unusual black icing and held out by a blue hand.
Jester is handing you a cupcake, he replies, focusing deliberately on each word. Be careful, I am not sure how long it has been in her bag.
There’s a ripple of pleasure that comes through their link, not quite a sound, but still easily identifiable as laughter. Essek is amused. Wise words indeed. Keep your eyes closed and I will try to conjure up a different sense.
A scent this time, acrid and unpleasant. Fortunately, it’s not quite as sharp as the real thing would be, but Caleb’s words are starting to become easier to form in reply. If you are telling me that we ought to bathe our moorbounders, I confess, I do not know how. Jannik detests water.
Another ripple like sunlight on water. Just leave them out of doors, please. Now let me try something a little unorthodox.
Essek jabs him in the shoulder.
Caleb’s eyes fly open and he sits back hard in his chair, fully expecting to see Essek right in front of him. But the drow is still halfway across the room, seated in the same chair he’s been in this whole time. His finger, however, is pressed into his own shoulder.
Interesting, Essek says without speaking. Shall I assume you felt that as if I were doing it to you?
Yes, indeed, Caleb replies, surprised. And the impression is quite a bit stronger than your memory of the cupcake and the moorbounder.
How fascinating. Close your eyes again, please.
Caleb does, and a moment later, he is seeing the pages of one of his own books through Essek’s eyes, almost as clearly as if it were his own. It seems that when Essek is experiencing a stimulus in the moment, it is far easier to transmit with near-perfect clarity. It is exhilarating, the ability to exchange thoughts in this way. At Essek’s urging, Caleb learns to send his own thoughts and sensations to Essek. It is clear that he has a bit less control than Essek when it comes to what he sends, but his mastery over it increases as they work.
They continue in this way for nearly another hour until Essek realizes the time. “Ah, Caleb, this has been very enlightening, but I am afraid I am needed elsewhere.”
“Oh,” Caleb says, realizing he hasn’t thought to consult his internal chronometer in some time, and then realizing that Essek spoke to him aloud and he answered in kind. “Yes, of course. You have already been very generous with your time – please do not let me keep you.”
There’s a flutter of something else, not quite laughter this time. “I assure you, you would not keep me unless I allowed myself to be kept.”
With that and a nod, Essek is back on his feet – or rather, in the air. Caleb escorts him politely down the stairs and to the door and bids him farewell.
It’s only a few minutes later, when Caleb has returned to his room, that he realizes that the gentle pressure of Essek in his mind has not departed. Essek? he thinks suddenly. Are we still linked?
We are, comes the reply. I suppose I should have let you know, but I wanted to test the range. I know the time limit, but not the geographical limit.
And what is the time limit?
Twenty-four hours. Though you may dispel it at any time before then.
Caleb hesitates a moment before answering. I may dispel it? Not you?
Oh, I am perfectly able, but I find myself disinclined to. Although I have not heard any of your thoughts until you specifically directed them at me, I thought it might be… agreeable to have you as a companion for the day. If I run across a tricky bit of transmutation magic in my work, I can call on you easily.
Caleb should probably be suspicious of such an offer. Essek has more experience with the spell than he does, so he has nothing but Essek’s word to assure him that none of his thoughts are slipping through unbidden. Still, the presence of a like mind alongside his own is not unpleasant. Not unpleasant at all. That would be fine, I think. I am curious as well. I will endeavor not to bother you with stray thoughts about cats.
More laughter, like a warm breeze in his mind. Stray thoughts about cats do not bother me in the least, my friend.
&&&
It would be incorrect to say that Caleb forgets about Essek’s presence in his mind. Rather, he becomes accustomed to it surprisingly quickly. And apart from a quick question about components for an obscure spell, Essek doesn’t contact him through their temporary bond for the rest of the day. It’s only after dinner, when the Nein are spread throughout the Xhorhaus amusing themselves or relaxing at will, that Caleb hears anything more.
I may owe you an apology.
Caleb is able to pick up shades of emotion in Essek’s mental voice now, and he gets slightly amused exasperation. For what?
Abandoning you for much more tedious company. Look.
Caleb’s suddenly hit with the world as Essek sees it, and he has to shut his own eyes before the double sight gives him a headache. Essek appears to be in some kind of restaurant or social club, sitting at a table with two other drow. They are, as all the Kryn seem to be, inhumanly beautiful, with smooth, dark skin and sharp cheekbones. There’s a man and a woman engaged in conversation with each other and with Essek, who is doing a remarkable job of transmitting his vision to Caleb and conversing at the same time. It’s hard for Caleb to follow, full of names and titles he doesn’t recognize, but it’s easy enough to tell why Essek’s complaining: it sounds like the sort of high society gossip that would put Caleb to sleep, as well. Friends of yours? he replies.
Associates. We run in the same circles.
If they bore you so, why waste time with them?
Caleb’s expecting an answer about the social functions of the Shadowhand position, so it utterly shocks him when the reply he gets is Because they fuck me so well.
“Caleb?” Nott asks, poking him gently.
“Was?” Caleb asks, blinking as though he’s just woken up. For a moment he’d forgotten that he was sitting in the living room reading while Nott tunes up her crossbow.
“You were just staring out in to space,” Nott says. “I was starting to worry something was wrong.”
“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Caleb says. “I was merely thinking.”
“Okay, well, carry on,” Nott says, though she’s clearly had her suspicions piqued.
Caleb should probably just tell her about the link with Essek. But it’s temporary, and it might worry her unnecessarily, so Caleb decides he won’t bother her with it. Instead, he hunkers back down on the couch and stares at his book.
A moment later, the familiar voice comes again: My apologies, Caleb, I seem to have shocked you.
Ah, yes, Caleb says. A bit. But my silence was not indicative of judgment. I am glad you have… intimate company.
I suppose you could call it that, Essek says wryly. I heard a delightful Common expression once: “fuckbuddies.” I think that is surprisingly accurate.
I have heard the term, Caleb replies, trying to inject a little humor into his mental voice. Though I have not had the experience.
Oh, you ought to try it, if such a thing intrigues you. I realize it is not the preferred type of companionship for everyone, but I find it very satisfying. I can have my physical needs met by those most suited to meet them, even if they leave my mental faculties… unstimulated.
Caleb can feel himself blushing. How remarkably practical.
For the most part. Of course, good manners demands that I socialize with them from time to time, and these two are not always quite so dull. Only when there’s high drama in the Court, like now. Gods, how I wish they would quit talking so we could go somewhere private and—
And then Caleb feels a surge of lust not his own rise up in his blood, so powerful it makes him gasp. He turns it into a cough, and when Nott looks concerned, he excuses himself to get a drink of water. As he stumbles to the kitchen, he says, I suppose 120 years of life does not dull a healthy drow’s libido.
A swell of laughter, undercut with something darker. Now I really must apologize – it seems my thoughts ceased to be verbal for a moment. When I have lived several lifetimes, then perhaps I will be less motivated by desires of the flesh. For now, I can only say that I wish to explore the pleasures available to me while I want them.
Caleb makes it to the thankfully-deserted kitchen and clings to the doorframe. He is not immune to his own body’s desires, as inconvenient as they often are, but he has not felt a craving of such strength since… since many years in his past, if at all. Luckily, his body had not had time to fully respond to the feeling, as brief as it was, so he’s not in a physical state of arousal in the middle of the house’s shared living space. Much more of that, however, and he will be. What surprises him is the desire to feel it again.
There is no need to apologize, Caleb says, choosing his words carefully. You are nothing but honest about your desires. I am, in many ways, jealous.
The silence that follows is shot through with an intense curiosity, and Caleb honestly can’t tell whether it’s coming from him or Essek. Jealous of what, Caleb? he hears at last. The desires or the means to satisfy them?
Caleb holds his breath. Both, I think.
Is that so, my clever friend? If the answer is yes, I could always bring you along for the ride.