Dedari's voice was so low now, Jacob was unsure whether he was really speaking aloud or mind to mind. "You grow weak, Dedari. Sleep. We can talk of such things when you are healed."
Deliberately, Jacob allowed his voice to drop an octave, to take on the low, hypnotic tone of his kind. Soothing, peaceful, healing. An underlying command, very subtle but nevertheless powerful.
Dedari smiled, a mere flash of strong white teeth. He heard that "push" in Jacob's voice and recognized it for what it was.
Even in his weakened state, he would ordinarily have resisted such a mind touch, but Jacob was going to do as he wished anyway.
He would hunt the undead without Dedari, and argument with him would be futile. And tiring.
Dedari planned to sleep for a long while. "I go under, golden one, but do not think you managed to make me overlook the fact that I must thank you for my continued existence."
