Twisted Hearts

A warning, and a disclaimer

These stories are almost - but not quite - works of fiction. The characters may in part be based on real people, in personality or appearance. The events described here are based on stories I've been told as true, but for the insertion of magiq. The people these characters are based on are not necessarily those to whom the events happened, and the presence of a character in multiple chapters should not be taken as an indication that those experiences happened to the same person in reality. I'm in some of these myself; I'd love to hear your guesses about which ones, and I really hope they'll be flattering.

0 - The Narrator's Tower

It was a quiet evening. In the College of the Unseen, a tutor named Orichal looked out at the stars, and contemplated the aurora spread out like a glittering carpet beneath his tower. He knew it was sentimental, but he liked to give his eyes something to feast upon while his mind was out there in the collective unconscious. Muttering a simple incantation, he felt his awareness become one with the starlight, streaming down over the world, and connect to the hidden parts of so many other minds.

A few years ago, the only conscious chatter in this domain was that of the Wizards, explorers in a complex realm. Now though, the creation of The Communities; a shared dream which had allowed just about anyone to connect to the lower planes of the realm of thought. Orichal, The Narrator, had been quick to protest about letting those of lesser ability into this world, worried that their presence could somehow sully the pure realms of knowledge. Tonight, however, he was headed for a public part of the Communities, where anyone could broadcast a thought, a feeling, or an experience, messages passed head-to-head through the dreams of millions to reach a distant loved one, or shouted out to anyone who shared a common interest. While a little less noble than researching new magiqs in the higher realms, the Communities was unsurpassed as a means of entertainment, allowing access to the dreams, experiences and fantasies of millions.

Now, where to start today? Orichal, the Narrator, had just finished a tiring day, and felt in need of a little less-cerebral recreation. An ego trip, maybe. "Power," he thought, and the myrriad Communities he could sense were slimmed down to merely hundreds. "Real memories" slimmed down the number still further. And, though he'd lose credibility if his colleagues found out, he decided to risk it just for once, "Sex". There were dozens of memories, but one interconnected group caught the Narrator's mind's eye. He mentally shuffled them, wondering which to experience first, and dived in...

1 - Diary of a Predator

Adrianna rocked back on her feet, grinning. This time, the little bird's perch was the arm of a chair, her toes barely making an indentation in the hard leather even under the weight of her entire body. Her balance, though good, wasn't quite enough to remain stable, so she swayed back and forth a little as she sat there, knees under her chin. Her smile was cheerful, childlike in its innocence, although Licentor had a few thoughts about just how deceptive that smile could be. Even so, he found it hard not to smile in return as she chattered on. Later, he couldn't remember what the conversation had been about, just that it had been easy to find something to say, and she had managed to amuse him with her outlook on just about every subject they touched. A unique talent, he mused, maybe even on a par with his own sorcery.

One of Licentor's past lovers had told him that everyone was connected to the spirit of some animal. He himself, with a mane of golden red hair piled up on his shoulders, would almost certainly be some kind of lion. A loose black tunic, decorated with a few half-faded characters from a message long forgotten, hid the details of his physique from casual observation, but beneath that his body was well-defined, like an anatomical drawing. He didn't have the strength of a bodybuilder, but his lean frame held little enough fat to conceal the shapes of his musculature. And he could roar like a cat, too; his low voice carried some subtle suggestion that here was a man who was accustomed to having his orders obeyed, and those who knew him knew to take a step back when they heard the low growl from the back of his throat.

If Licentor was a lion, he reckoned, Adrianna could only be a bird. Quick, darting movements, and that chatter that always seemed to pass the time without coming near anything you could disagree with. Some might also make unflattering comments about a beak, but some people would insult any deviation from the average. True, her features were a little more angular than most, but that was barely noticable among a fringe of shoulder length black hair, so long it would be swept up in a halo around her face with the slightest motion.

"You don't look very stable there," Licentor commented, "is that really comfortable?" She turned her head to reply, and saw him raise an eyebrow in that way, that immediately let her know he was planning something. Maybe curiosity overpowered the urge to make some flippant remark, or maybe some resonance with her spirit animal drove her to be respectful in the presence of a natural predator. Her mouth opened and closed, a flippant response remained unsaid; instead, she just nodded.

"Well, its got to take some effort to keep balanced like that," his voice dropped to a half whisper, gentle but with a threatening undertone never quite hidden beneath the surface. It put Adrianna in mind of an iron bar wrapped in velvet, no less dangerous for its decadence. "You've got to keep thinking, adjusting your position every time you sway, don't you?" She nodded, barely noticing the extra movement necessary to keep her balance as she did so. That's the thing with Licentor's monologues, he'd start out stating the obvious, then move on to odd requests and if you let yourself get distracted, you'd just keep on nodding without even noticing the difference. He'd twist the conversation like a corkscrew, until you couldn't spot the gaps in his logic; until you couldn't be sure whether you were nodding because he'd said something obvious, or if what he'd said seemed undeniable because you'd already nodded your agreement.

"And you love feeling so confused, don't you?" Adrianna nodded, revelling in the feeling of being so thoroughly dominated by a powerful and devious intellect. Licentor was leaning closer, his breath on the girl's neck as he whispered now, and she hadn't even noticed him move "That's why you just keep on nodding, and accepting the irresistable truth of my words," she nodded again, realising that she was agreeing almost automatically already, and even as she realised it, the reminder of how easily her mind could be led sent shivers through her body.

She'd always been fascinated by strong men. Somehow, finding a friend with this kind of powerful intellect gave her the same thrill, the same sense of helplessness, but with the superficial appearance of culture. She'd never live it down if she introduced a brutish ape of a partner to her friends and family, but her pride would never let her truly respect, much less give her innocence to, a simpering subservient new man. But now, as she struggled to escape a web of confusing words, heart racing and breathing deeply, here was the man she needed to take her. Some instinct suggested that maybe his voice even masked the irresistable power of sorcery; but how could she know? Now he was talking about how she had to think about her balance, and her breathing, and how much she loved the helplessness of being so confused, and how wet she was getting already, and how her mind couldn't keep up with so many sensations. Even before he told her to, she gave up trying to think about so many things; he was telling her about all those feelings, he knew how she was feeling as well as she did herself, so she could just let him think about that, and keep her own mind focused on keeping swaying on her narrow perch.

Adrianna was aware that she was still listening to her new friend's voice, but it didn't seem so important any more to make out the words. She could just let them sink into her mind, while she focused on the increasingly complex problem of keeping her balance. She was perched precariously on the arm of a chair, almost in a kneeling pose, with her knees pulled up beneath her chin. She'd always been at ease in odd positions, sprawled out or leaning on the edge of something. Licentor had joked about something similar when they first met through the shared dream of the Communities, on a discussion group about meditation a few months earlier. His offer to teach her some new techniques had been something of a surprise, but she'd had no cause to regret it in their first couple of lessons. For a moment, she wondered if she would have come to meet him so readily if she'd had any inkling of where she'd be now, body swaying one way while her head bobbed the other, like a human version of those bizarre pendulums you see on bored executives' desks or as unwanted gifts.

The speculation was only in her mind for a moment, then swept away into the maelstrom of sensations and thoughts overwhelming her consciousness. She felt so completely helpless, and that feeling only arouses you more and more, doesn't it? She didn't even notice her head giving yet another obligatory nod, accepting the thought as her own. She just had to focus on the motion as her body started to grow tired and her mind sank beneath the confusion. She glanced up, saw Master Licentor was right in front of her now, eyes glowing faintly. And the moment their gaze connected, she felt his soul connect to hers completely, the last bit of resistance fading.

Licentor paused for a second, gathering his thoughts again after the mental exertion. The girl didn't seem aware that he'd stopped, was still hanging on his last question, waiting for him to tell her how to feel. As he paced around to stand next to the chair, her gaze remained oblivious on the space he had just occupied in front of her. He smiled, knowing he'd judged perfectly how hard to push against her conscious mind. Then he spoke again, and his voice had fangs. "Relax, Now!" After 15 minutes of a soft monotone hinting at the strength of his will, distracting while he slipped into her mind through the back door, the sudden change would have been enough to shock most people into obedience, even without his powers or the force of the ritual.

Adrianna rocked back further, as her tired legs just seemed to give up. All she needed now was to rest, and that clearly wasn't going to happen balanced on such a narrow place. She didn't care where she landed, she just fell backward into Licentor's arms like a ragdoll. This meditation was incredible, and she didn't even know if it would be possible to be any more at peace.

Only one distraction remained in Adrianna's mind as she found her thoughts slowly collecting again: she couldn't keep her mind away from the feel of a rough palm on her shoulder. She couldn't deny, either, that the power He had over her touched some primal instinct. She could feel her arousal growing, and tried to think calm thoughts to regain that elusive calm. It didn't help that when she lifted an arm, it was almost like fighting against the relaxation. Her body felt so heavy, and that was just another reminder of how deeply He understood her, how deeply His power had penetrated her consciousness. She wondered for just a second whether he might be interested in more than just friendship and tutelage, but at the same time she was more than a little nervous about how he, or anyone, would respond to knowing how much it excited her to be helpless.

It was almost like handling a doll, laying Adrianna back in the chair. Her mind was no longer in a receptive fugue state, she was fully capable of thinking for herself now, but her body still wanted to rest. Her head rolled back, and she felt herself surrender to the most wonderful feeling of relaxation. Licentor carefully withdrew his hand from behind her back, trying not to disturb her as she lay so peacefully. For a moment, her thoughts already dominated by his closeness, she wondered if that hand lingered a little too long on her breast, though she knew better than that. Though they had met a handful of times, he hadn't so much as suggested a date.

His hands now, however, seemed to suggest a whole lot more. One was lifting aside her waistcoat, and she was amazed to discover that she hadn't even noticed him unbutton it, so absorbed she had been in her thoughts. The fingers of his left hand traced gentle circles on her breast, and she gasped in surprise.

"No, don't!" She knew she should be angry, but it still took a moment to flush the calm relaxation from her mind. "What are you doing?" She had fantasised about Him touching her, but her imagination had always presupposed at least a second date; this was certainly too far to go with a friend she'd only seen in the flesh a dozen times. She brought a hand up to push Him away, but her muscles still wanted to relax. She found she was too weak to move the hand, and He showed no sign of pausing in His persistent, erotic caress.

"Please, I don't want this," Adrianna gasped, trying to ignore the touch and her own growing excitement. Licentor just grinned, baring His teeth. The girl was a little taken aback on seeing the fangs she'd previously failed to notice. "Oh, don't protest so much, little bird," His tone was leering now, and the hidden hint of steel had become a naked blade, "What do you expect from a predator?"

Her reaction was instinctive; she heard the uncaring edge in Licentor's voice and just went to slap Him before she had time to fully realise how offensive His new attitude was. Her swing was still relaxed and weak, though. He caught her wrist with no apparent effort, and pushed it against the deep red leather beside her head. "Oh, don't try to fight me, my little bird." He was leering now, almost laughing at her weakness, "You'll only get hurt. Or is that what it takes to turn you on?" She flinched immediately, His tone giving her a warning half a heartbeat before he tugged at her shirt. The collar dug sharply into her neck before the buttons parted company with the light silk, and she probably would have cried out except that even her lungs were too relaxed to respond quickly.

And however much she wanted to, she couldn't deny that this more overt display of power was only turning her on more. Her panties were already soaked, her nipples standing up like marbles as he took one almost tenderly between his fingertips. "You can't stop me," He told her what she already knew, "Your muscles will just relax more the hornier you get."

"You ... you tricked me?" But as she said it, she already knew the answer.

"Oh yes. I left a little spell inside your mind. But you have to admit, its fair enough," he laughed, a crazy little cackle, "If you really didn't want this, you could just walk away." There was no humor in the voice, it was clear that he realised how helpless she was, and just wanted to rub in how completely he'd broken through her resistance. She'd once heard that sorcerors had to leave some way out when dealing with mortals; whether an intrinsic limitation of magiq, or a law imposed by the College. Could this involuntary 'choice' be the obligatory loophole in this spell, leaving her with no real chance of escape? Even as the thought terrified her, it reinforced her feeling of helplessness and the pulse she could feel between her thighs just grew stronger and harder to ignore.

As Licentor's hand stopped its circling, and strong fingers finally reached her nipple, claws drew a sharp gasp from the young woman. She whimpered slightly at the pain, hoping this beast didn't realise how much she was enjoying the intense mix of sensations. She didn't even want to admit it to herself, this wasn't the kind of thing a well-bred young lady could ever experience, it wasn't even the kind of roughness hinted at in the less reputable romance novels. No author could have let a roguish pirate captain dig his nails into the heroine's breast while his other hand crept down to unbuckle her belt. Adrianna would have blushed to even think about it a few hours ago, and now it felt like her whole body was on fire. But as much as she wanted to picture herself the victim, her body betrayed her enjoyment. The heat of her embarrassment was competing for her attention against the heat from between her legs, her lips and clit craving touch even as her arms fell helpless, too heavy even to lift, at her sides.

"No," the word was barely more than a whisper, she couldn't summon the strength for more. And now, she was becoming less sure that she even wanted to protest. This was what she'd never wanted, beyond even her most depraved imaginings, but she couldn't deny that the only chains binding her were forged of her own enjoyment. As the predator threw her skirt carelessly into the corner of the room, she tried to ignore her growing lust. As his claws lightly scratched the inside of her thighs, she hated herself for being so corrupt as to gasp with pleasure before pain. And as His thumb pressed into the damp cotton of her underwear, she couldn't find the strength to speak, but found her traitor body spreading her legs wider, throwing back her head as she pressed her crotch more firmly into his circling fingertips.

"Please stop," the words grew weaker with every repetition, and he hadn't paid them any heed so far. But Adrianna kept up the litany, as often as she could between involuntary gasps of delight and heavy breathing, as much to remind herself that she wasn't the kind of slut who'd enjoy this kind of encounter without love. It seemed so unfair, though, that her arms were too relaxed, too tired to push him away, while her hips still had the power to buck into his touch, her back to arch with each moan as she tried in vain to disregard the lust burning through her body.

"Please," she could only catch her breath for a moment now, "please stop," as she managed to look at her tormentor for a moment, take in the sweat glistening on His muscles as He knelt between her feet. She hadn't even noticed the shirt come off, but she'd had other things on her mind. But he just grinned, drinking in the sight of her lying so helpless, and leaned closer until she could feel his breath on her ear again. "Oh, I'm sure you want this really. You're just confused by all those people telling you what you should like, what desires are proper. Why don't you admit how much you love feeling so helpless?" He pulled aside her underwear, slipping one strong finger beneath to stroke the hot, wet flesh beneath. Her lips tried to shape the word "no", but she couldn't bring herself to speak; the word turned into a breathless moan that spoke clearly how good it felt to feel his finger nearly inside her, his chest pressed close against hers. "Don't disappoint me now, little bird," his voice was playful now, but making no effort to hide his fangs, like a can with a new toy, "If you're so confused by what the world expects of you, just ask your body." She wanted to cry out as she felt the tip of his cock, unmistakable, press lightly against the most sensitive parts of her flesh, "Tell me you want this." Adrianna put every effort into fighting the enchanted fatigue that filled her body, opened her mouth to speak just one word before her breath ran out.

"Please ..."

And with the slightest flex of His muscles, Licentor was inside her; mixed signals of pleasure, and pain, and her defencelessness, and strength, and energy whipping her mind into a frenzy. So overwhelmed by the intensity of both sensation and emotion that she couldn't distinguish bliss from fear, passion from pain. And even as she felt her body surrender completely to his embrace, she heard his voice with just a trace of its calmness from the ritual. "I know how good this feels to you, little bird," there was almost a rhythm, his words somehow in sync with each thrust, confusion growing in her mind again as words and feelings blurred together, description and sensation becoming one and the same, "And your mind is always ready to accept a command that's given you peasure. This is how my spell works, and you're going to discover that as each wave of pleasure sweeps away your resistance, if you come for me you will never be able to disobey my words again. Pleasure brings obedience, control brings pleasure, a little trap you'll never be able to escape. Do you want that?"

She didn't respond. She couldn't respond, couldn't do anything but moan in pleasure and thrust her hips up to meet him as he thrust so deeply inside her. She felt the words run through her, and felt the power that this passion had over her; this was her last chance to make any choice, but she knew she wasn't really in control already. All she could do was try to hold back the waves of overwhelming enjoyment, crushing her free will so delightfully as she fought to retain some shredded fragment of her on identity. But the pulse pounding through her body grew faster, each euphoric spasm greater than the last, and Adrianna knew she was becoming nothing more than a helpless slave, the prey chased down to play with. She felt so powerless, and even that knowledge ...

Licentor lounged back on the sofa, content now to watch his new toy. Her naked chest rose and fell slowly, and the smile on her sleeping face was close to the childlike visage he'd found so enticing an hour earlier. He did hope he hadn't given her too much of his power, but he was sure she'd be able to cope. A first time like this, there was rarely any downside to going over the top. While some might disapprove of his actions, this predator felt justified in knowing that he never hurt his prey, and they would always enjoy however he used them. While he waited for her to wake up, he would certainly have time to collect up his memories of the encounter, display them in his trophy cabinet on the seedier side of the Communities. And also, maybe, start weaving a new trap to capture the interest of some innocent little creature.

For Adrianna, it was a new experience, but Master Licentor's words had spoken to something primal deep inside her. As she half woke, his voice was whispering already, and she couldn't help smiling at the feel of his breath soft in her ear. "You love to be helpless, my little bird," she nodded, letting him know how deeply she was willing to take his instructions, "so I'm going to give you some more of what you want. Whenever you perch like that on a narrow place, you are going to focus so much on your balance that you just accept without thinking whatever you hear. And the more you are attracted to someone, the greater your desire will be to sit like that around them," again she nodded, her imagination already presenting ideas of what could happen to her; visions both terrifying and strangely arousing, "You are giving the guys you want a chance to control you as much as I do, and you won't be able to resist any more. But I know you're still nervous, society's expectations embedded in your mind. So if it makes you more comfortable, you can forget what I did to you for now. You can be pleasantly surprised every time someone takes control of your body, enjoy every time like the first until you know you are ready to accept your desire to be controlled."

Adrianna just nodded, a little too embarassed to admit that she had been too distracted to recall what he had asked. They talked a little longer, but it was already late, and Adrianna knew her college friends would worry if she wasn't back on time. She had enjoyed the day, but even as she left, she had a feeling that somehow this was only the beginning of her story.

* * *

The narrator, Orichal, smiled as the feelings of lust and control faded from his awareness. The story had seemed so intense, but it was clearly only a beginning. He considered for a moment trying to find some of Adrianna's later experiences in the Community, but he didn't quite feel comfortable watching more of the intense emotional conflict he'd just experienced. Maybe he should take a look next into the memories of someone who had jumped knowingly into the terrifying and enticing world of magical control...

2 - Friend of a Friend

Kheldron cautiously pushed aside a rich silk tapestry, and ducked into the darkness behind it. He wasn't too used to sneaking around, broad-shouldered and with a jaw you could crack rocks on, nearly all the junior wizards knew of his physical prowess. But then, he was also reknowned for knowing the College's North Tower like the back of his own hand, and he'd never suspected a secret passage here before. He couldn't have the Porters stealing credit for his discovery, so he pressed on into the darkness.

"Oh, what do we have here?" The voice was strong and masculine, with a distinctive Verdanian twang. Kheldron had to force himself not to jump in surprise, he hadn't even sensed a presence behind him. "Wendelar," he growled, "I should have known."

Kheldron spun around, drawing his magiq wand and taking up a duelling pose. But for all his reputation, he'd only ever fought in tournaments. The real world could be very different. In a duelling arena, for example, it would be very rare to feel a curse flowing up your legs from runes on the floor.

"Oh, come now," Wendelar sang, his one good eye dancing over the older wizard's changing form with every sign of amusement, "A good kitty would never draw a wand on his master." Kheldron growled in displeasure, but found his wand falling to the ground as fingers twisted painfully into some kind of paws. He still had his manly determination though, if he couldn't use magiq he'd just find some other way to please his Master.

He didn't notice the change in his thoughts, any more than a bird can feel a change in the wind. He'd been almost completely unprepared. He just felt his body changing, fur growing to cover his body almost as quickly as his robes dissolved into smoke. He felt his tail swishing through the air effortlessly, and Master's hand starting to gently massage his leonine cock, bringing the now-docile pet a reminder of how good it could feel to obey.

* * *

A raven-haired young woman lay back on a soft cotton matress, fingers easing themselves under the waistband of her pants as she pulled herself out of the dream. A friend had showed her recently how to reach the shared dream-world wizards had created, but she'd never imagined it could contain anything so exciting.

The stories spoke to something primal in her heart, and she could never resist the passions that arose as she let herself experience that story again each night. She wondered what would happen if any of the town's young men found out about her unnatural desires. She knew that everyone wanted her body, so if those things could actually be done, she was sure they'd find a way.

She couldn't express these ideas, though, even if she did find a wizard who'd want her. These stories were the first suggestion she'd found that others might want the same things, have the same dark fantasies. She wondered, hopefully, if the tales might be true.

* * *

The narrator, Orichal, sat back and let the dream become intangible for a moment. He'd been looking through the dream Communities for true stories, and the rich sensation of real emotion. He'd been disappointed, at first, to find yet another copy of the homoerotic fantasy known as "Master of the Northeast Tower". The story was flawed, the plot too predictable, and the fantastic depictions of magiq made it clear that no mage - let alone a wizard - had any hand in its dreaming.

But this was a memory about someone reading that fantasy, and some instinct told Orichal, the narrator, that the girl who had shared this memory might have an interesting story of her own, if she got close to living out those fantasies. He grabbed the thread of the dream again, and flew forward through it, seeking out any mention of real magiq. There was a flicker of recognition under his probing thoughts, and he slowed down to take a closer look.

... sharply barked "Stop resisting!" The girl instinctively threw her psychic guard into fighting the new order, leaving herself wide open to the previous words. Her hands reached up, unlacing her bodice as naturally as she might have unthinkingly scratched an itch. Realising what she was doing brought ...

Yes, that story looked both intriguing and exciting. And with the intensity of embarassment, of shame and surprise attached to the memory, it felt like a true story from the girl's heart. Orichal, the narrator, wondered just how someone could use magiq to effect such control in the real world, though. Well, he'd find out soon, as he sought for a convenient place to start and dived back into the memory...

* * *

Glenburn was built around a farmers' town, and a small one at that, because to the west there was no fertile land beyond the blue-grey cliffs. But where the mountains took away one source of income, the valley around the river Burn brought another. Following one of the few safe routes through the icy spires, the town was an important stopping point for most travellers from foreign lands. So among the grocers, mercers, butchers and smiths, there were a dozen inns ranging from squalid to luxurious. And in front of the church, in what had become known as the gaye quarter, there was a square surrounded by traders, scribes, tailors, sky chandlers, bookmakers, restaurants and now even a sorceror; merchants catering to the affluent passers-through.

The sorceror was named Tenshioh, and made his living from a small sandstone house on the southern corner of the square. He was quite short, and broad-shouldered though nowhere near as muscular as the labourers of the old town. His olive-brown skin and golden hair hinted at ancestors from beyond the mountains, or from islands in the far south. With a square jaw and steady gaze, he considered himself lucky in the great dice game of ancestry. Never quite fitting into the background, it was almost like free advertising.

Nobody, his mentor Carolis had said, would pay such high fees for magiqal assistance if you seemed just like the guy next door. So display a bronze hexagon discretely outside your office, and set cantrips to open the door without a visible servant's hand. Be arrogant and mysterious, ensure that people respect your powers so that they will properly value them. Though so far, Tenshioh hadn't found it so easy to attract clients. A couple of merchants visited each week, offering gold for a scrying of a delayed sky ship's location, or charms to protect their caravans from inclement weather. Once or twice, the gentlemen of what passed for high society in these parts visited with pressing need for a love potion, thinking themselves attractively dangerous. Tenshioh had laughed inwardly as he mixed the simple herbs, imagining the client's expression if they knew the things that went on in the twisted hearts of the College Court. He could think of things much closer to the edge than the use of a simple aphrodisiac. But still, he had only a few hours work each week. It kept him in a comfortable lifestyle, though nothing luxurious, but left a lot of time for solitary contemplation of the mysteries of the universe.

Tenshioh didn't really care much for the mysteries of the universe, though, and found himself quite often bored with tirelessly probing the secrets at the very heart of being. And so, one quiet day, like so many days before it, he found himself standing before the counter of Tylor and Petterel's, a distinguished gentleman's tailor which lay close to his own premises. He wore a Bronze, marking him as a practitioner of magiq, but beyond the small badge there was nothing to distinguish him from any other civilised man among friends. The haughty tone most people would expect of a mage was nowhere to be found, which perhaps shows just how much difference there can be between belief and reality.

Racinda handed him a cup of tea. On paper, the emporium was managed by her cousin, but Racinda had fallen into the habit of looking after his business for him while he fed his vices. Tenshioh didn't mind at all; the young woman's voice was certainly easier on the ears, and he found that he quite enjoyed her company during these visits.

"I read that in the College of the Unseen, the teapots can pour themselves," she said as he took the first sip.

"Well, there's some that can," he smiled. A friend with such bottomless curiosity made it so easy to talk, and easy to relax. "But just because you can use magiq, doesn't mean you should. There's no artifice engine that could understand the art of brewing such a delicious cup." Racinda blushed at the compliment, prompting the mage to change the subject, "So where did you read that? Looking into the study of magiq now?"

That didn't seem to spare her embarrassment, though. Her emerald eyes darted around the shop, checking for anyone who might hear, or maybe seeking some distraction, before she replied in a half whisper, "There's a story on the Communities," she paused. Tenshioh was a little surprised, but reminded himself that since his youth it had become a lot easier for those without magiqal talent to access the realm of shared dreams. Knowing that she Dreamed, and from her hesitation, he knew the story she meant even before her thin lips shaped the words, "Master of the Northeast Tower?"

He nodded, "I've heard of it, its in so many dreams. I should think everyone's seen a few pages by now." He didn't say any more; with only the faintest of clues, he couldn't be sure whether she found the stories of rape and slavery in the halls of learning erotic or repulsive.

"Could stuff like that ... I mean, is that possible?" He tried to meet her eyes, but she was still looking down, face flushed. Was she embarrassed to admit curiosity about something so perverse, or afraid to believe mages could actually do such things? Tenshioh couldn't judge her expression, so decided to fall back on the truth.

"The mind control?" He answered, "no, there's no magiq that will do that." But seeing her disappointment, at last an expression he could recognise clearly, he continued, "Not like the stories, anyway. Your mind has natural defences more powerful than you could imagine. A spell to penetrate them would be like a spade that digs through granite: Even if someone could make it, no man alive has the strength to wield it."

"Its not always necessary to go through the shield, though," Tenshioh found the words flowing naturally, sharing his knowledge easily on a topic he was more familiar with than anyone in Glenburn would expect, "If someone wants me to cure them of a fear, for example, I could forge a change spell into a physical shape. If you touch it voluntarily, welcome the magiq within your body, then it slips inside your soul, and your thoughts change shape as they flow around it. In theory, I guess there's no reason you couldn't use that to control someone, though of course the College would not teach such an abhorrent practice. And, of course, your victim would have to choose to accept the spell, which I would think defeats the purpose of control."

He opened his mouth to continue, but the words caught in his throat as he noticed Racinda's expression. Not disgust, nor the icy disapproval other student mages would feign, but interest. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, and it was clear that respect for propriety was only just holding her back from expressing her interest. After a brief internal struggle, curiosity won. "But then, if someone wanted to have their thoughts shaped... ?" Tenshioh nodded, but before he could enquire further about what she had in mind they were interrupted by a discrete tinkle from the little silver bell above the shop's door.

* * *

Tenshioh had nearly forgotten that perplexing conversation, when he heard a hesitant knock at his door. He twitched a thought at his magic mirror, and it reflected the mundane world for a moment. He whistled up a minor spirit of the winds, and sent it into the network of tubes that would harness its power to make the heavy oak door creak slowly open. He had maybe a minute, then, to pull his cloak straight and take his hat - pointed at the centre, with a stiffly up-curved brim at both sides, in a style only recently out of fashion - from the stuffed unicorn head beside his hatstand.

He reached his study and carefully opened the door to admit whoever the cautious visitor might be. This time, the customer was two young women. Racinda was instantly recognisable, from her expertly-cut dress of cheap cotton, bluffing a femenine figure despite the almost straight lines of her body, to emerald eyes wide with curiosity behind straight auburn curtains of hair.

Her friend was half a hand taller, with wavy black hair in which it seemed you could almost see a hint of red or gold, as it caught the afternoon light. Her face was pleasantly rounded, though hazel eyes were turned nervously downwards. Her clothes seemed quite simple, but well cut and perfectly fitted her well-rounded form.

"Hi," Racinda seemed almost as nervous as her friend, "This is Miname, she trained with my cousin Dural at the guild." That would make her a few years older than Racinda, Tenshioh realised, but she really didn't look it. With smooth skin and an innocent, almost naive smile, she could probably have passed for a child if it weren't for her well-developed figure. Miname looked down, and blushed slightly when she noticed the mage's eyes on her.

"Its a pleasure to meet you, Miname." He wanted to move closer and comfort the girl, but didn't know what to say. Maybe he shouldn't have put on the hat, which added nearly a foot to his height, but he'd been expecting to see a customer at the door. "Can I offer you some tea? They make the most delightful blends in this town." Both of the young women nodded, so he gestured for them to sit down on chairs of soft, crimson leather while he went into the other room to arrange a drink. He hung his hat up in the kitchen too, his talent for reading people letting him know straight away that he was more likely to get custom from these girls by appearing human, someone they could trust.

While the tea was steeping, however, he became aware that Racinda had come into the kitchen behind him. "Well, I guess you meant it about there not being magiq teapots," she grinned, hoping a little joke could break the ice. A little pause, and he could almost see the words being marshaled behind her eyes, "I guess I should tell you why we're here/. Miname's kind of scared to admit it, even I find it tough really." The mage nodded his understanding, and she continued, "I'll come right out with it, then. She's the friend who introduced me to the Northeast Tower stories, we're very good friends, special friends, and she's never dared to admit it to anyone else. But there's something in one of those stories that she wants to feel." Tenshioh raised an eyebrow, but Racinda kept talking. She was almost as nervous as her friend, he could see that she was just reciting a prepared speech now, knowing that if she stopped talking she might not be able to start again. "Well you said some of it might be possible for real, and if it is, we ... we want it."

So five minutes later, the mage and his friend returned to the front room, she carrying a tea tray and he a book decorated with intricate metallic runes. "Hi Miname," he picked his words carefully so as not to scare the beautiful girl, "your ... friend ... has told me that you're interested in trying something you've read about in a story." Tenshioh waited for a nod before he continued, and if he hadn't been looking for the confirmation he would have missed it. "Its a chapter about a detective mage named Kheldron that particularly takes your interest, I believe, and his transformation from an assertive individualist into a pet." Again, she nodded, but more confident this time. She could hardly believe that a real mage knew what she wanted, and hadn't turned her away in disgust. "Well, I can tell you it isn't that your body and soul have enough natural resistance to stop a curse sinking in so easily - " was that a sigh of disappointment, he wondered, " - but if you're willing, it might be a completely different story."

Miname looked up, meeting the mage's eyes directly for the first time, and he was taken aback by the sudden intensity of her gaze. "Yes!" the word was half lost in a breathless squeek of excitement, "I liked so many of the stories, but that one ... Oh yes, I'm willing."