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Cairn's voice, dark and humid, led another fly into another web.

This was how Cairn thought about it, certainly. The animal is given a positive stimulus as bait. It approaches this bait, expecting reward. It performs adequately. Later on, the animal is rewarded with real positive stimulus once it happens, by chance, to behave correctly.

Only, this time, the animal did the wrong thing. Brian, the supposed victim, became uncomfortable in Cairn's little market tent. He left with his fortune untold, and with his soul still his own, and with a wallet as fat as it had been coming in. Accursed Brian.

Cairn packed everything up and carted it back home. After a dismal supper, he frowned, and checked the book again. The charm spell he was weaving should have worked perfectly. He had checked the pronunciation. He had checked the herbs. He had checked the descriptions of who it worked for. That dolt Brian should have been wet clay in Cairn's hands by then (and should have left his wife, because she was due to cheat on him with his own brother; now, due to his wretched pickiness, he'd never know).

The young Serpent ran his fingers through his dreadlocked hair, lifting out the various pins he'd held them in place with. Each had a small enchantment, meant to holistically raise his abilities, but having his hair tied back so tightly was a little painful. Perhaps that distraction was what had caused this. Whatever it was, Cairn would solve it.

Thinking about it, this there were so many things he'd tried for charm spells, but he still only got as many successes as would be expected by chance.

Cairn had sought tutors, before. He'd thought he had learned enough of charm magic to work it properly. The one he used right now was probably fairly well-versed in charm magics, though Cairn had been certain he'd learned enough of it to get what he needed.

A pox on Brian.

-

Clim was a sleepy village on a doleful bay, bordered by hunched cliffs. It was in a tropical land, far West from Cairn's own, and served as half a port down - there was some trade, but not enough to justify a city status or large temple.

The lighthouse he approached, which had no name of its own, had been disused for centuries by the living. (There was a nicer-looking lighthouse on the other edge of the bay.) It was also widely known in-town to be the office and resting place of the vampire, Ruber.

This didn't bother the townsfolk. Almost nothing did, actually. Most 'disused' places in Clim had such an eldritch inhabitant, and some of them even paid taxes.

The town attracted all manner of ancient things, and after them came warlocks and witches, eager for 'lost' knowledge. It formed something like a local industry for the town, besides fish and drink.

The teacher you chose had a strong effect on the quality of magic you learned, but it took savvy to find out what each teacher was like in advance. That was necessary information. For example, Chrysanthema the Dryad was a cheat and a liar. In her many centuries of tutelage, she had fooled over four thousand students into years of 'preparatory' ritual work that would cost a fortune and accomplish nothing.

Ruber was more reputable. This wasn't initially clear, as his rates were quite cheap. In fact, at the end of his tutelage, he charged nothing. This was an open secret, especially among warlocks above a certain age. Rather than teaching necromancy, which you would expect the undead to know a bit of, Ruber focused on meditations, and the emotional and mental quality of magic. He couldn't read hearts or minds, but he had a very good nose for another's personality and desires. He could teach that to the right pupils.

Warlockry needs a clarity of focus, and everyone who couldn't control that needed Ruber.

Cairn struggled to understand the old bat, and had done so from the start. For a start, he did not value subtlety or subterfuge. He was an impressive sight even besides his supernatural attributes, with coal-black skin and a great height, but then, he was like that when he was alive. His personality was understated, but his appearance was anything but: Ruber wore his vampirism quite obviously. He did not go out among people in disguise. The great black wings spreading from his back were folded over his chest when he went out, so as not to knock into anyone, but they were obvious enough.

The elder witch had never bothered to find a shirt or cloak to hide those wings, if they really couldn't go back in. His wide, iridescent eyes were never covered, and the strange colours swimming in his pupil were bared for anyone to see. Ruber didn't even avoid opening his mouth when smiling, like most vampires awkwardly tried to.

No, Ruber seemed to want everyone to know what he was. He faced no consequences for this that Cairn knew of. Perhaps he had made an example of some pitchfork-wielding local, but that seemed out of character.

Cairn himself avoided conflict unless he knew he would win. This was not cowardice, but pragmatism. Cairn believed the concept of cowardice was invented to tempt cretins to die. If he were to crawl through the streets in his natural form, beautiful though it was, he would invite monster hunters, witchfinders, paladins, or others of that wretched sort... or, worse, someone would try to use it to start a conversation.

The Naga had asked his mentor what his secret was at the start of his next session. How could a vampire live openly among mortals? Had he lived here for hundreds of years, and carefully accrued social capital? Was it a mental illusion? Mass hypnosis? Mass blackmail?

"I'm a likeable man," Ruber had said, before asking that Cairn stop scowling. Cairn did his best, but could not stop.

Ruber had laughed.

Cairn felt strange around the man: his own blood was doubtless toxic to the undead, so he didn't fear predation, but the elder witch was always so open about everything that Cairn felt himself opening up as well. Growing up, Cairn had learned that conversations were traps, even when the supernatural wasn't involved. The trap was so obtuse as to not be there with Ruber. Cairn felt comfortable in his company, and had learned spells and theory very quickly under him, very easily.

Over time, it was almost like Cairn's guard was lowering. He would have said Ruber was a friend, and wouldn't even have meant anything underneath that.

Ruber didn't demand that Cairn lower his guard, or lower his illusions, or even show any 'true form'. Such things had been demanded of previous teachers, as insurance for their safety, especially by that preening skeleton.

"I'd like to ask about charm work," Cairn eventually said. He sat in a great leather chair of Ruber's, wrapped many times over it.

"What a coincidence." Ruber smiled, all bright white teeth. "We're doing hypnosis, and only hypnosis, today."

"How is that a coincidence?"

"We'll start with your performance yesterday," Ruber said, ignoring the question. "With that pale boy, Brian."

"Brian? How do you know about Brian?! Ruber -- Ruber, I --" How did he know? Was he sitting outside listening? Oh, this was terrible.

"Can you tell me what went wrong?"

Cairn balled his fists in his lap. He caught a look of his own coils in the candlelight, all black and gold, and he sort of calmed down. He thought hard about his answer.

"No," he said, small.

"Just so," Ruber said, and he sat cross-legged before the boy, stretching his wings out fully. The result was that they were in shadow, the two of them, and the candlelight no longer reached Cairn's scales. Nor did the moon. Only Ruber's eyes, which Cairn naturally needed to look at. "Tell me about your technique."

"I used my voice," Cairn said. "I... I admit, I used some enchantment to sound better."

"Your voice was acceptable, witchling. Anything else?"

"I used eye fixation. This had no enhancement, and some of it is my own skill. The trick before has always been letting their... instincts...? Do the work for me."

"It's a little further down than instinct, but I can accept that. Anything more?" Ruber folded his fists under his chin, looking at Cairn like a cat might look at its kitten.

"No. I... I am sorry. I only assume his will was stronger than mine, Ruber." Cairn looked at his hands. "I have no clue what went wrong."

The vampire stood, and loomed warmly over him, and Cairn realised he's said the word 'clue' without thinking.

"There is one key issue of the case we have not discussed." Ruber liked to compare these things the work of a detective. He said it made learning exciting. He was incorrect. "Can you tell me what it is, Cairn?"

"My privacy."

"You gave that up years ago, you little peacock-snake. It's charm."

"Hypnosis isn't a charm spell."

"No, I don't mean charm, I mean charm. Charisma. Being charming." Ruber gestured smoothly in a way that obviously meant 'charm' (a word which was beginning to lose meaning with all the repetition). "You can win a lot more flies with honey than vinegar, you know. I almost get the feeling you've some ill intention for the people you do this to, which isn't what we want."

"But you drink their blood!"

"Yes, but everyone involved enjoys that," Ruber said. "With this sort of process... which is only half-magic, if that... relaxation and happiness are not necessary, but they are exceptionally helpful. They serve as catalysts for change. Just as sex engenders trust, so trust strengthens trance. We're going to use that as the basis of your lesson, today."

Cairn folded his arms and tried not to look petulant, but, well, he had already folded his arms.

"What would you have me do?" he asked. The looming vampire grinned another grin. It was less like a cat to a kitten, this look, and more a bear to its cub.

"First, you'll change into a human," Ruber said. "I know you can do that."

"That will take about an hour, Ruber."

"Then begin now." The vampire grinned broadly, fangs clearly bared, but still harmless. All of that was quickly becoming enervating, Cairn thought to himself. "Can I get you some water, Cairn?"

"No, thank you," Cairn said.

So, for the better part of the next hour, in the comfort of the lighthouse house, the Naga transformed himself into the shape of a human. His upper half didn't change overmuch - even as a human, his glowing speckles remained on his hazel-brown skin, and it was just his ears and eyes that altered. The legs of a human were far smaller than the great mass of Cairn's tail, though. That was what made the process so tricky and made it last so long. Later, of course, he would become very skilled at this, but he didn't need to know that.

"You look younger, like this," Ruber said.

"I look pathetic."

"You're only human. Have a comfortable seat." Cairn stopped himself from cringing, or (worse) smiling, and obeyed. "Now, look at my face. I want you to try to keep eye contact with me, and stay in control of yourself as much as you can. I'm trying it your way to begin with, and we're going to have a fight. Are you all right with that?"

The young witch nodded uncomfortably. Perhaps this was what it was like to be scolded.

"Grand, witchling. Oh, that's almost like a title, isn't it? 'Grand Witchling of Clim'." Cairn's mouth twisted, and Ruber's tone cooled. "Look at me, Cairn."

And Cairn looked.

The effect was instant, and blunt. It was like being thrown into a churning river, and thrown to the bottom. The sensation of pressure was all over Cairn's mind, and he tried to find a place to think, to focus. All he found was the thought slipping away from him, as though he was drunk. Cairn had no idea how long it lasted, how long he stared dumbly back and fought with all his will to

"Wake up."

And Cairn did. He blinked, and rubbed his eyes, and tried to stretch, but Ruber's hands found his. A strange warmth emanated from them, soothing him and draining the fear and the panic from his heart.

"You did well, Cairn. You did very well. I'm truly sorry I scared you, but you had to understand this for yourself. The little spat we had lasted for an hour."

Cairn balked.

"Yes. You see, when you jump right into it, the feeling is different. In that place, suddenly trapped, the reflexes of any threatened animal will... flex. Reflexen? Re-flex-ate?"

"I think they 'activate'," Cairn said.

"Yes, they start to work." Ruber's hands slid up Cairn's arms to hold either cheek. He let him. It felt good. It felt safe. Cairn didn't have the energy to act on his pride. "Hypnosis requires cooperation, Cairn. If you were coercing someone, then you hypnotised them, they would cooperate in the same manner as they would when... hm... when you had a knife pointed at them. But they would still be in control, and have handed none of it over to you. What's more, they never would, and the first chance they got, they would escape, or get you back."

Cairn closed his left hand around Ruber's wrist, while the vampire still held his shoulder. He needed it. Ruber squeezed harder, his eyes very gentle.

"You remember how you seduced your fellow witch, just after our lesson a month ago," Ruber continued. "You need to be wanted for that to work... and it's the same with hypnosis. Let's give you a little time to rest - and I some time to feed - and we'll continue. Do you need anything to eat?"

"No," Cairn said, quietly.

"Well, tough. I'll bring back something."

Cairn nodded in agreement.

The serpent-witch recovered from the mental sparring very quickly, all things considered. He could remember everything, after a few moments - it had just been a long period of struggle, as if half-drowning. His lesson was fully learnt, and he hadn't suffered any damage in the course of it. Cairn had, of course, lived through worse.

Had that been a fight for his life - or his mind, or soul - if it had really been an assailant, Cairn would likely have won. He'd have been underhanded, and transformed back, or cast a spell, or something. Brian might not have been panicking like Cairn just was, or he'd maybe have attacked him. If he had, the witchling would have been even more humiliated.

Ruber returned, blooded, with some wine and some food - something simple and pork. Cairn devoured it readily, surprised at his hunger.

"Now, we begin the nicer bits," Ruber said. "We give you an example of it done properly."

"Really?" Cairn had supposed that the unpleasantness was the lesson itself.

"Really. Take a seat in front of me. No, actually, stand up. Here," Ruber said, placing his hands over Cairn's shoulders and manoeuvring him. While this would have upset Cairn if anyone else had done it, this sort of thing was expected with Ruber. Sometimes, Cairn wanted it. The vampire shifted Cairn with his soft, warmish hands so they were face to face, and Ruber was looking down into Cairn's eyes, all smiles. "How are you feeling, my friend?"

Cairn heated.

"I'm all right," he said.

"That's not an emotion," Ruber said. He held Cairn's face with his fingertips, each not quite prodding in...

"I feel exhausted, afraid, and comfortable," Cairn replied, small.

"You're scared I'll try to force you into something," Ruber said, stroking his fingers down Cairn's neck to his shoulders. "You're nervous I may think less of you," he added.

"Yes," Cairn said.

"You are one of the most astute students I have had the pleasure of teaching, witchling," Ruber said, quietly. Cairn heated further. "And perhaps the third most arrogant. You come from a... shaky, muddy bedrock, in that arrogance, Cairn. There are better arrogances you can have. I'll build that fortress with you, together."

Cairn stared forward, a little moved by the offer of improving himself, but distantly.

"It is perfectly reasonable to give love to one's own self," Ruber continued, "and self-assurance is necessary, in some measure, for action. But it's also the domain of fools. You can drive yourself off a cliff edge through trusting the leader, or through trusting yourself with things you do not know."

Cairn's eyelids drooped.

"But, trust me, Cairn. I've taken you in for good reason."

The boy stepped closer to the vampire, letting those fingertip touches drip slowly down his back.

"It's said that to embrace a serpent is to invite poison into your heart." Ruber's wings curled around the two of them, and Cairn sighed, soothed by the trap. "What kind of poison are you, Cairn?"`

Cairn blinked, groggily.

"A nice drink," Ruber said. "Sweet and inviting rum. Yes, that's you, Cairn. I think with a good foundation, we can build you into something ... unwisely irresistible. Look at that face, after all, and those eyes... and your coils must be very comfortable for anyone who can fit into them, mm?"

The witchling felt drunk, again, and he swayed.

The wings curled tight around him, but pliable. They were tight like bedclothes on sweat.

"There you go. Hush, little witch. Hush, and breathe for me, warm and slow. No-one knows you're here... no-one ever does, mm?"

Cairn shook his head, slowly.

"So, no-one can ever see you give in to me," Ruber said, and one side of his mouth cocked up in a smirk.

Cairn felt a twang of resentment - and a moment of hesitation.

"Of course," Ruber said, syrupy hot, "you don't want to submit... unduly. You think you need to win. But, imagine..."

Cairn mirrored Ruber's smile helplessly, and the ease and pleasure of it was, in fact, addictive. Cairn didn't need to hold himself up anymore.

The vampire's milky, iridescent eyes were almost everything. Ruber was talking - about his own eyes?

"...and you can't even pull away, can you?"

Cairn shook his head no, before he even knew what he was responding to.

"It's like a warm sleep you don't want to leave." Under those leather wings, Ruber's hands slid over the small of Cairn's back. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world. "A dream, whose story has to be found."

Cairn nodded his head yes, and he had no clue why.

In doing so, his face came to press into Ruber's chest, and he couldn't even pull away. Cairn felt his thoughts begin to race, as though they were all tethered to some slippery slope before. Now, the entire valley was swamped in black warmth, and the tethers meant nothing. His thoughts sank into the muck, and couldn't move, and sunk deeper, and it seemed as though they were frozen still.

And there were dark things, in the dark swamp. Thick, sinuous beasts, who could slither through it all as simply as a fish through water. He felt them churn up the mire in his mind, felt his thoughts slowly grow like hyphae and shape themselves around those beasts.

There was an element of his earlier hesitation in it all, but it was only in the atmosphere. He felt pleasure with an eerie foreboding, but that foreboding was curious. He could keep his attention on this dream.

Ruber smiled very widely indeed. Cairn smiled very widely, too, into Ruber's soft chest. The vampire murmured swampy nonsense into the boy's ear, and snuggled him tighter, let him know what it was to be taken care of and free at the same time. He could think anything, feel anything. With heed to the small messages of his body, Cairn was telling Ruber how to hold him, what he needed.

And great mangrove trees grew in the swamp. And before that and after it the trees were what the great slithering beasts became, and to look at them, this was obvious.

And their roots held them up, buried deep in the swamp and then the soil and then the silt, for all that the distinction between all of those is gradual in a swamp. Thoughts couldn't move, but feelings could. In the canopy of the tree were thoughts, tangible, fleeting things, fluttering between the branches of the slithered trees, feeding on bulbs and leaves from them.

Ruber kissed Cairn's scalp, and held him.

The dream kept going for a long time, in Cairn's mind, but in reality, he was only under for about the same time as he struggled last time. This, of course, is the beauty of a dream.

He was awoken gradually from his sleep, and before he was fully awake, he became aware.

There was no shame - no embarrassment - at having been led to such a trance without knowing it was coming. No, it was good. The swamp and forest and thoughts in his head were good.

"I've been keeping something from you," Ruber said, two fingers under Cairn's chin to keep looking in his eyes.

Cairn wasn't really together enough to ask. He just tilted his head at the vampire.

"There are two 'proper' ways. I just gave you an indirect one... you weren't fully aware as you went under, and it would have come as a surprise, if only you had realised sooner. But it felt good, didn't it? Like real sleep."

Cairn nodded.

"Like real sleep," he repeated.

"There's another kind, though. That's the most fun - the very height of pleasure. Can you guess what I mean?"

"If I," Cairn yawned, "if I decide to be part of it from the start...?"

"Precisely. With your assistance, my little one, you can think and feel all manner of things... you can change yourself, even. I let your own needs and thoughts guide the last session, but I think you deserve a reward for all of this."

Cairn smiled, again without any means not to. He might have tried not to smile, but there was no use in that, and that knowledge felt good.

"Would you like to try it, Cairn? Or we can do this another time if you want."

The witchling nodded vacantly.

"Doesn't count, you're under." Ruber snapped his fingers beside Cairn's ear. "Wake up."

He did. The room was there - he was there - he was aware.

"I was enjoying that," Cairn said.

"Yes, I know. Time for the final example. If you want. But before then, some explanation."

"Hm."

"Hypnosis has a mystique to any who have heard of it," Ruber said. "You just need to suggest it, mention you can do it, and they will want you to."

"They'll want their free will taken away?" Cairn narrowed his eyes in confusion.

"No - they'll want to know what it's like. There's a powerful need to surrender there in most people... or, they'll view it as some strange experience that you have on the inside, like a drug. Either way, the mystery is the thing. It means people will want you to hypnotise them once they know you can, more often than they'll get suspicious."

"Really?"

"Really. People want to see me do magic when they find out I do it. It's the same with hypnosis." The vampire unwound his wings from Cairn at last, and took his hands from the now-human witch's back. The loss was palpable, but Cairn had now re-learned how to stand by himself. "Not for anyone as worldly as you, of course. You're too proud to even ask me for what you want."

There was a long, pregnant silence.

"Would you hypnotise me, then?"

"Would you hypnotise me, what?"

"Would you hypnotise me, sir?"

"No."

Cairn narrowed his eyes.

"Wrong word," Ruber said, glinting.

"If you would please hypnotise me," Cairn said. On Ruber's gesture, he gave a supercilious sigh, like one directing a tourist. "I would be so terribly grateful. My lord."

Ruber flicked his nose.

"Ow! Why did you --"

"So, you would like to be hypnotised by me," Ruber said.

"Of course I bloody would! Right now, that - that was --"

Ruber put a hand through the man's dreadlocks and held his head in place.

"Then let's get going," Ruber said. "Now. We're friends. You trust me. You've asked me to hypnotise you. You may know what it's like to be hypnotised, but imagine yourself in the place of someone naive to all this. You've heard so many conflicting stories, hushed and secret stories. You want to feel those stories happen to you. You're waiting for something, you don't know what, but you imagine it will feel like your conscious mind being washed away by gradual waves on the beach... but, let's not dwell on that."

Cairn blinked, slowly.

"Look at me, Cairn. I would like you to follow my movements, and just let whatever happens to you happen naturally." The vampire's wings spread out again, as if they were preparing to curl around Cairn, and it was all he could do not to just walk into their embrace and hope for that feeling of being lost again. "I would like you to imagine you are walking down a hill. It is shallow, mossy, easy to descend. You can breathe... as slowly and as deeply as you'd like. Focus on your breathing for a second, and see how it falls completely under your control. Now, there's responsibility there."

Cairn nodded.

"Breathe in through your nose, and out through your mouth. Imagine that slope gets shallower and shallower towards the bottom of the hill... that the moss and grass get thicker. Look ahead of you. What do you see?"

"A... I..." Cairn squinted, even though it was all imaginary. He could have just said 'you'. Ignored the whole thing. "I see a garden, Ruber."

"Very good. It's a big, wide garden... life from all over, growing up or wrapping around those who do. Spreading and blooming. Imagine that air is going into you and out of you. Imagine that the air, the nectar, and pollen are casting a spell on you from the inside.

Imagine they go into your mouth and flow into your lungs and your blood as you breathe out through your nose.

Imagine you are walking into the garden, the dark warm garden, with the knowledge that you are fully welcome.

You know that the spell the garden casts cannot be resisted, and yet..."

Ruber slid his fingers through Cairn's hair again, loosening his hold. Cairn almost came back to the room.

"...you know it's good for you, Cairn," Ruber said, with a special emphasis on the word 'good'. "You know that this pollen makes you stronger. It makes your will indomitable, your thoughts unshakeable, your feelings unmistakable... like a ship at sea. You move one way, but you're strong enough to move the way you need to. You're strong enough to turn.

But you don't.

You just keep walking into the darkening garden and its wet air wraps around you. Now, I'm going to count you down from ten to zero, and you're going to see yourself come into a bright, verdant meadow, filled with those flowers and their wonderful pollen."

Ruber did count, and Cairn felt himself slip with every number, until there was nothing, and he was swaddled in sleep in the garden.

Then Ruber did it again.

And again.

Cairn melted bit by bit into the simple fantasy of walking through a garden, to a forest, to a jungle, and felt the wonder and curiosity of a child who doesn't know he's lost.

It was good. It was safe. There was nothing here that could trip him up - and if it did, well, that was a step to success. Like playing an instrument. Like something athletic.

Eventually, he reached a great flower, and curled up in it to sleep. Its huge petals folded over him, like a lover, and he fell... another ten seconds, ten levels into himself.

While asleep in that flower, he dreamt he was in a boat, staring up at the water, spinning. And he fell asleep, and drifted another ten strata down.

Down there, in the empty, saturated warmth, in happy and impossible rest, Cairn heard Ruber's loving whispers. Something inside him - something all the way inside him - changed, and untied. It came loose. He felt better.

And better.

The young witch wriggled, in real life, within his mentor's calm hug. He'd never quite felt his soul so stimulated.

And it went further in than that.

Cairn went further into the cosmos than he ever had. The strange logic of dreams had him completely spellbound and hidden from the rest of the world, and yet, every one of Ruber's words reached him. He was totally safe and totally open to his teacher's words, like a prophet's message.

Ruber explained that he'd leave a suggestion. One very simple suggestion. He'd leave it up to Cairn to discover it. This was okay with Cairn. Just one little one wouldn't hurt.

It went on and on...

...until it felt like days since Cairn had been awake, once he was finally awake. Ruber fed him, and made sure he was all right. Ruber kept touching and holding him, as though he was precious, not as though he was fragile.

Cairn welcomed it. He would not do so to the same extent for anyone else, as long as either of them lived.

He slept there in the lighthouse, a deep and real sleep, for most of a day.

Ruber didn't feel the need to belabour his point with more words, and he didn't have to. The final example, the many strange things Cairn had felt and seen, all with an unnatural openness and vulnerability... that had been lesson enough.

-

Later that week, Cairn went out shopping. (He could have reared his own food, but didn't fancy muck-racking.) He got to his preferred stall in the market, and he bought some oil and vegetables. He looked up, and there was --

-- that man. From before Ruber's lesson. The one who --

-- who what?

Who was he, again?

Cairn stared in impotent frustration as the man winked and walked away.