When I woke again, it was quiet in my head. I knew I hadn’t imagined it—I could still feel myself listening. There was just nothing to hear. Toby’s bed, at least, was empty; I didn’t know where everyone else might be.
I sat up in bed. Maybe I could find out?
I tried listening harder—
I started hearing what sounded like patches of white noise. I couldn’t really tell what that meant or how far away they might be. I figured I’d have to learn a lot about this ability.
Normal demihumans—at least, so I’m told—can generally reach somewhere around a mile’s radius telepathically, though at that distance it’s kind of like shouting and hearing far-off shouts. The comfortable range is rather smaller; communicating with your neighbors next door wouldn’t be a problem, assuming you were fortunate enough to have neighbors who were demihumans like yourself.
How far was I reaching? I had no reference point, and I could see I was flying blind. I got out of bed, got dressed, and thought about where to find people—the house seemed empty.
…of course, that was ridiculous, the house was never really empty. The body of a forty-foot giant was always in the basement. And I hadn’t reached him when I’d tried, so either I had no decent range or I was doing something wrong.
I ran down to the basement, sneaking in quietly so as not to disturb Toby’s poor body, and I listened.
What I heard was unmistakably the giant’s mind, a mixture of the large body’s dreams—they break my heart, even now—and the link coming in from his projected body.
I listened harder and I could see Toby’s viewpoint, walking through the supermarket with Rouss. But I knew that was his telepathy, not mine.
I focused on the giant’s mind and took a few steps back. I held the focus, and went upstairs and outside, still hearing it—and I kept going.
