With the notebook finally there, he first left a message for Ceri. He told her everything that had just happened: thewhispering woman, the forgotten journal, taming the tarasque, and the whispers in the library, and then he shared with her his idea.
I believe both the ring and the locket are at work here based on the readings (with the occasional input from the horn, but its readings are so low by comparison, I’m uncertain).
Based on the readings now with the tarasque in the room, I believe the ring is tied to it, which means the locket must be tied to the whispering woman.
I believe the ring has the power to make our fears become reality, and I think I can use this to help find a way home—
Not your fears. Your nightmares. It brings your nightmares to life. You have to get rid of it. It makes all the other objects more dangerous.
Ceri. It was so good to see her writing again.
Nightmares? That’s even better. I can try to guide my dreams. Some elves do nothing else every time they sleep. Admittedly, I haven’t quite mastered it, but it’s worth a shot. I can dream of coming home.
It won’t work. Idris says it has to be a nightmare.
What if I were to dream of coming home—but without my pants?
That doesn’t sound like a nightmare to me.
Leo didn’t know what to say to that.
Alison thinks you should try it. Try to dream of coming home pants-less with all the objects in tow.
It’s night now here. I’ll give it a try. Wish me luck.
I wish to see you pants-less.
If you keep writing like that, I’ll be having a different kind of dream entirely.
Leo tried not to think of Ceri’s innuendo. It truly could have the power to derail his process of entering into an elvish trance.
Especially since he wanted very much to think about what she had in mind.
Leo lay down on the bed and closed his eyes. At least he felt safe in here with the tarasque.
He had always had trouble entering the state of meditation required to trance. He’d tried all the usual techniques—counting breaths, feeling his body, reaching out and connecting with the ancestors—and he’d just come away more anxious than before, often with new anxieties about whether he was breathing right or whether he’d somehow been born without a spiritual sense.
Perhaps it was just the exhaustion from an unnaturally long day, but the trance came easily to him this time.
He guided his thoughts to the lab in his time. He walked past the library on the way there, seeing the broken statue to ensure he didn’t just end up moving rooms in this time. He pictured himself there in the lab with the objects spread out on his desk. The others were standing around.
He dared to picture Ceri, but he did not let himself think of her.
And then he looked down.
Bare, pale legs.
And no underwear.
He covered his shame as the others pointed and laughed.
Then he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
When he woke, he was still in Ceri’s room.
Godsdammit. It hadn’t worked.
Or had it?
