Work Text:
It must be mockery, Essek thinks, to seat him here at this fine table, cozily enclosed in a small private chamber, as though this is an indulgent conversation between friends.
It must be a game, for they had not even tried to chain him when they pulled him from his cell. A spell had been cast, and Essek could not resist it, so he had come when called, like a pet. Perhaps it gave Trent satisfaction to see him so.
Once they are settled in and the servant has poured the wine, Trent pins his gaze on Essek. His eyes move like he's dissecting a rare specimen, digging into flesh to find the soft and permeable weak points underneath. The regard is anything but dispassionate, and Essek swallows disgust.
"It is a pleasure to see you again, Master Thelyss," Trent says eventually in an entreating voice. "It has been so long! Imagine my surprise when my Volstrucker found you skulking about the Biting North."
The spell does not compel a reply, so Essek does not dignify this false pleasantry with a rejoinder.
Trent smiles and takes a sip of his wine. It shines ruby red in the dim gold of the candlelight. "No response? Mm, you always were an efficient creature, so efficient I will be in return."
His eyes lock on Essek's, unblinking, and the pressure in Essek's head increases.
Thought becomes difficult, honey-slow. Complacency settles over his mind like soft cotton. It blunts the edges of the request, when it comes.
"I think you might like to give me your spellbook, Shadowhand." Trent extends an open hand, its fingers ringed with jewels. "You were so very eager to share precious knowledge before; what is one more piece? As a colleague, I would be most appreciative of your keen insights."
Beneath the cotton, something in Essek rebels violently, but his hands move of their own accord, drawing a line in the air until his fingers catch. His pocket plane shimmers and then the heavy weight of his spellbook tumbles into his hands. It sits there for a moment, silver fittings glinting in the candlelight.
How strange. It is difficult to let it go, but courtesy demands a host gift, and Essek is nothing if not courteous. Besides, Ikithon is a colleague. A peer, like Essek had wanted. It will be alright.
He gently places the book in Trent's hand. His fingers unwittingly linger on the cover, but- no, that's discourteous. He tucks his hands away. Smiles, to ensure no offense was given.
"Of course, you are correct. Please, let me- I, let me know your thoughts, once you are done." The words are hard to say, somehow. His tongue stutters ungracefully on the platitude.
Trent's grin grows fractionally wider as he tucks the book away, and he makes an expansive gesture at the table in front of them, laden with food and drink. "I will be sure to do so. You have been so very generous, with my thanks. Help yourself to the wine, if you should like. And the beast. It is a rare delicacy, and I would not wish for a guest to go wanting at my table."
Of course. It would be rude to refuse. Essek wets his lips with the wine. It is cloyingly sweet on his tongue.
The steak, whatever it is, is cooked just past the edge of rare and not much more. He takes the smallest portion allowed by etiquette, and sets it on his plate. Blood and juices pool around it, turning his stomach, so he washes away the distaste with another sip of too-sweet wine.
Trent watches him. "We have not spoken of late, but Ludinus tells me you have found yourself new friends." It is the inquiry of a gracious host.
Affection blooms in Essek's chest. He has found friends, in the unlikeliest of ways. He opens his mouth to speak of them, but before he can, something beneath the cotton snarls again and reaches out a claw. Cotton tangles, and no words leave Essek's tongue.
A blink, a twinge of pain. He does not need to respond here, does he? He has already been quite generous in sharing his spells. He does not need to share this too, this secret precious thing of his own. Trent has no need for it. It's a little gauche that he asked, in fact.
For his part, Trent chuckles. "More fight here than for your magic? You have changed. Sad, but useful. Well," he sets down his glass with unhurried ease, "Tell me all you know about Caleb Widogast. What are your plans together? What are his? Do not be stingy with the details, child."
The pressure increases. Again Essek opens his mouth, and again claws snarl in the cotton. No, something hisses, and the claws flex. Pain flickers through him again. Caleb is not his. Trent will hurt him, hurt them.
No.
The claws flex once more, viciously this time, cutting cotton threads and leaving a wounded wreckage in their wake.
The honeyed haze lifts. A splitting headache rips through Essek's temples and his nose begins to drip with blood. But he can think, if he pushes aside the pain and the terror, though his hands are not his own. It will have to be enough.
Ikithon is observing with interest, and Essek forces himself not to look away.
"Details? How pointless," he muses and forces a soft, unbothered chuckle past his lips. "I have only been a temporary, untrusted connection for them, nothing more. Information on any current planning is beyond my reach."
It is what he wants Trent to believe, and it is also true. The Nein had not wished to come to him, it had been plain to read, and they had not let him know they were leaving. He has received no word in the week since.
It is what he expected. He knows where he stands with them, what he frittered away with his own hubris. It's a bitter blessing now, this wound of his own making.
Still, it would not do for Trent to press too closely. He is a proud man, so Essek affects a bored sneer, layering chilly condescension into his tone and tasting blood on his teeth as he does. "What a pity to lack the insight to see such. I had thought the Assembly of, ah... finer judgement."
Trent ignores the barb and narrows his eyes, expression unreadable. "An 'untrusted connection'? Not friends, as Ludinus claims?"
"No," Essek says, and finds himself unable to say more.
Trent stares at him for a long moment, then laughs, a deep and satisfied laugh that sets Essek's teeth on edge. "Ah, child, there you are wrong. Your little group has done much these past days I think you are ignorant of. Bren — ah, I suppose he may not have shared his true name — Caleb was quite a sight when I spoke with him two days ago."
The pit of Essek's stomach drops out. It is difficult to breathe, somehow.
Trent leans forward, rapt gaze slicing through Essek's flimsy pretense. "Yes, Essek, they worry for you," he croons softly. "He worries for you, his dear teacher. His...friend, I think, despite your assurances to me otherwise."
At this, Trent leans back in his chair, and busies himself with the meal. Ringed fingers pick up a finely-wrought knife, then slice off a corner of meat. It is gracefully speared with a fork, then brought to his mouth. He chews slowly while Essek struggles for air.
"I know my Bren well," Trent says with fondness, after swallowing. His eyes once more pin Essek with a sharp, sated regard. "He will come, if I tell him you are here. He has never been able to stay away from things that are dangerous and alluring, and you are both, are you not?"
Bile rises in Essek's choked throat, and Trent continues, soft voice unrelenting. "And the guilt, the responsibility he gathers on his shoulders. It is a wonderful, useful tool, for people like us. You were a cold thing once. I am sure you used it for your own goals. Yes, he will come when I beckon."
Essek closes his eyes. There's a plink as a drop of blood hits the plate in front of him. When he opens his eyes again, it has mixed with the blood of the steak.
Trent smiles. The knife flashes as he separates meat from bone, calm and precise. "Now then, from one teacher to another, let us speak. What do you truly know of our shared pupil and his plans, Master Thelyss? Do not be shy. It is for his own good."
"You know nothing of what is good for him." It emerges from Essek's throat as a harsh whisper.
"You may think what you wish," Trent replies simply, and the pressure descends again, bloody rags behind Essek's eyes. "I broke him and made him anew from the pieces. I can break you, too, if you require it."