All the while, the plane of their face remained visible to Terence, who watched the Tormaunt’s face and luminous eyes with fascination and an emotion that was by now less of fear than of anticipation. The steady pressure on his chest, directly above his heart, now felt more like a caress than a threat; oddly, he felt like a child being held by its parent, but being held down rather than up, though the feeling was strangely similar.
Terence wondered what it was that the Tormaunt could be looking for. He almost wanted to ask, so as to be helpful to them and win their favor—and then he stopped himself, to wonder in some abstracted way, why he was experiencing such a feeling. Was he being mesmerized? He did not feel compelled to reveal any of his secrets; he only had a wish to please this creature—this person?—who seemed both wise and powerful, and he felt a wish to be close to them, to be protected by them; to be held by them.