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“They know I’m a traitor.”
Those are the first words Essek says when he appears unannounced with a pop of displaced air on the deck of the Ball Eater.
He’s a mess. His hair is whipped up on end, his mantle missing, lip split and cheekbone bruised. Jester gasps, and Caleb sees that his shirt is slashed, and even on the dark fabric, an even darker wet stain is spreading down his chest. He can hear Essek’s breathing from here, fast and panicked.
The Dynasty knows.
Out of the corner of his eye Caleb sees Beau freeze, Fjord reaching for the hilt of his sword, Nott’s eyes darting around for incoming enemies. He holds up his hand. “How do they know? Was it the Assembly?”
Essek says nothing, his levitation dropping by an inch in a sudden jerk. The dark stain spreads further.
“Essek!” Caleb calls again. “Answer me, we need to know. Who told the Dynasty about the beacons?”
Essek looks at him, violet eyes wild and scared and very, very young. “I told them,” he whispers.
And then he crumples to the deck in a pile of bloodstained fabric.
...
“I’m a coward.”
“No you’re not.” Caduceus pours another wave of green energy into Essek and Caleb watches as the gashes stitch themselves closed. “A coward would have let someone else take the fall for your crimes. You did the right thing, not letting them execute Adeen. Wanting to live is just nature.”
Essek turns his face away, his ears still pinned back. He scoots back on the cot, swaying a little as though unused the motion of the ship, and wraps his arms around his knees. He doesn’t meet any of their eyes where they’re gathered around him.
“So, what now?” Beau asks, blunt and disapproving, her arms crossed as she looms. “What are we doing with him? We could have the Dynasty on our asses any second.”
Essek shrinks even further into himself. Caleb draws himself up straighter where he’s sitting on the cot, meeting her eyes with a scowl to remind her of the conversation they’d had while Essek had been unconscious- about the parallels between them, and redemption, and forgiveness, and people becoming better.
Her eyes soften incrementally. She nods begrudgingly. “I guess we’re doing this then. How are we hiding him?”
“No,” Essek protests, “I’ll go as soon as I’m able, I can’t ask you to… please. I can’t protect you. And if any of you were to get hurt because of this, because of me…”
Beau snorts. “You can’t run on your own. They’ll catch you in a week.”
Essek nods slowly, hand coming up to touch the anti-scrying necklace around his neck. He looks like he can already feel the noose tightening. He looks like he’s made his peace with it.
“No, Essek!” Jester sounds distraught. Her hands fly up to cover her mouth.
“No, my friend. We won’t let you die.” Caleb sees Essek’s ears twitch when he calls him ‘friend’, but it has the desired effect. He turns back in their direction, expression hopeless and frustrated with their stubbornness in equal measure.
“How? How could you possibly hide me from the entire dynasty? It’s not possible. They will chase me across continents! They will not stop, they will never forget my treason, do you not understand that? They will hunt me-”
“Trust me, we understand. You’re not the first of us to be hunted down.” Caleb interrupts sharply. “And we know they will not stop. For what he’s done, Essek Thelyss must die.”
Essek tenses and flinches from his words, dark skin going a shade paler as the blood drains out of his face. He stares at him, and Caleb can see the terror and resignation behind his eyes, as though he expects them to turn on him.
He reaches out, and places a hand gently on Essek’s shoulder. He feels the tremor running through him. “Essek Thelyss might have to die. But you, my friend, do not.” Essek’s gaze turns from fear to confusion, and for the first time since the conversation began, Caleb allows himself a tiny smile. “You’re not the first of us to start our lives over. Or to change their face. Lucky for you we have been getting better at it- and I think I have a plan.”
He glances over at Veth, and sees a grin start to dawn.
...
Before they can do anything else, the Bright Queen calls them back to Roshonna for an audience. She looks down at them from her throne, unaware of the drow they smuggled into the Xhorhaus earlier that afternoon, and addresses them.
“The shadowhand has betrayed us.”
Jester gives a gasp that is on the edge of overdramatic, and Caleb hides a wince. The Bright Queen narrows her eyes, gaze flicking over the rest of them. Not good enough.
“We… suspected he might be the traitor.” Beau quickly steps forward to explain. “He was too good at what he did, and Adeen showed signs of memory alteration. We knew someone else was involved. He was the only one who made sense. We were gathering information to present to you- we wouldn’t waste your time with unfounded accusations- but apparently that’s no longer necessary.”
“I see.” Her gaze lands on Caleb next. Pins him in place like an insect. “And have you heard from the traitor since?”
“No.” He lies, smooth on his tongue. “Not since before the peace talks.”
She narrows her eyes at him. He meets her gaze. Doesn’t blink.
She nods. “Very well. Then we have a task for you; retrieve him. We would send our own spies, but he was their leader, and we cannot be sure how many might be supporting him. We will root them out, but in the meantime...”
Oh, this is perfect. All they have to do is pretend to give chase, and cover their tracks well enough to throw anybody who might doubt them off their path. Caleb bows. “It would be our pleasure. It may take us a few days, but I believe we can find him if we leave in the morning- unfortunately we need to gather some supplies first. Would you like him alive or dead?”
The Bright Queen sits back on her throne, mouth thinning into something ugly. “Alive if possible. He will die, of course, but first… justice must be dealt.”
...
The first thing they need for their Great Essek Heist is a body. It’s disturbingly easy.
Beau leaves that night with Yasha and Caduceus in tow and returns before daybreak. When the rest of them wake, they’re sitting next to the fire, covered in grave dirt and talking quietly, and there’s a bundle wrapped in an old cloak lying in the training room.
“He was barely even four feet under, man, how the hell do you people not have a problem with your dead?”
Essek ignores the question, staring wide-eyed at the body on the floor. “Why… why did you go grave robbing?”
Yasha looks up from picking the rest of the dirt off Caduceus’ foldable shovel. “The bright queen will want evidence that you’ve been dealt with, won’t she?”
“We’ve got a ways to go to make it look like we chased you down properly, but don’t worry, he won’t rot. I made sure of that. Me and him had a little chat earlier as well, just to make sure he can’t go talking to anyone else.” Caduceus smiles, unintentionally disturbing, and goes to the kitchen to prepare one last meal before they set out. Essek looks a little ill.
While the rest are distracted by eating breakfast, Caleb flicks back the blanket and inspects the body. They had done well. The drow is the same height as Essek, roughly the same build. His nose is a little longer though, and his cheeks less sharp. That won’t matter though. Not with what they’re planning to do.
He covers the face again and straightens up. “Jester, do you still have some gem dust?”
Jester pats her pocket, her cheeks hamster-full of bacon and pastries. “Right here!”
He nods. “Good. We’re ready then.”
...
“Okay. How do you want to look?”
Jester has her sketch pad open in the back of the cart, her skirts spread out around her, twirling a pencil in one hand and squinting at Essek where he’s sat across from her.
“I hadn’t really thought about it yet. I…” He stops, frowning down at his lap.
Veth leans forward, understanding and more kindness in her eyes than there has been since Essek was manacled in the belly of their ship. “I know it’s not the same as when I changed my body. You don’t know what you want to look like. I get it. It’s gonna be weird, and awkward, I’m warning you now. Even coming back to a body I already knew was weird and awkward! So pick carefully.”
“So do you want to be an elf, or a dwarf, or a human or what? Oh my gosh you could be like, a bugbear! Your arms would be suuuper long,” Jester chatters excitedly, doodling a series of dicks into the margins. “OR you could be a tiefling! It’s really cool, Essek, I think you’d like it! Or a dragonborn! Or…”
“I want to be able to walk in the sun,” Essek says quietly.
Jester brightens and nods enthusiastically, starting to sketch options. “We can do that! You could have a big nose… or a really strong jaw, or, oh, oh Essek I could give you muscles!!”
As Jester shoots out more ideas, Beau hooks both arms over the side of the cart and smirks. “Okay. Big question time. What do you want your dick to look like?”
Veth cackles.
“I… what?” Essek squints up at them, any train of thought lost.
“Beau!” Fjord admonishes, his cheeks flushing as he twists around to frown at her from where he’s guiding the horses.
“What? It’s not weird! Me and Yasha helped design Veth’s boobs!”
Jester pats Essek on the arm in a way that’s probably meant to be reassuring. “Don’t worry, Essek, I’ve seen like, so many dicks. I’m a dick expert!”
Essek looks bewildered and mildly disturbed, so Caleb touches his arm, drawing him away from the conversation. “We can hammer out the details together later, do not worry. They’re only teasing.” He lowers his voice. “It does not matter what face you wear or what name you call yourself by. You will still be you.”
Essek nods hesitantly and Caleb gives him an encouraging smile. “We have a few days, but let's decide on the basics.” He points out a half-drawn sketch. “How do you feel about half-elves?”
...
“Here,” Essek says, surveying the rock walls of the high mountain pass a few days later. “This would be the place I’d choose. Defensible.”
Caleb sees it- there’s a cave for shelter with a second exit elsewhere for fast escape, and a rocky overhang to watch from. It would be a good place to make a last stand. He aims the first fireball there, and the thundering boom resonates out into the valley below, sending ravens scattering with barking alarm calls as rocks begin to fall.
By the time they’re done, the stones are blackened from eldritch blasts, scratched from sword strikes and pockmarked by the distinctive craters from a giant lollipop. They troop around to the other side of the cave, leaving signs of struggle as they pass, until they reach the exit.
Yasha slings the body off her shoulders and lowers it gently to the ground. The rest all back away.
Caleb stares down. The pointed tips of the mantle and the gleam of familiar jewelry they’ve dressed it in make it look hauntingly familiar. He hesitates, the situation suddenly nauseatingly familiar. The licking of flames, the screaming, the assurety he’s doing the right thing morphing into horror...
“Do it, Caleb.”
He turns to see Essek looking right at him- sure and confident for the first time since he came to them. And the memory is swept aside. He is right. This is not Caleb burning his family, a person that he loves; this is letting Essek be born anew.
Caleb takes a deep breath and holds up a hand, palm facing out, and lets the flames consume.
...
There’s only one thing left to do after that.
With no sense in waiting, they do it late that night, as soon as they reach the forested floor of the valley below the mountains. Time is of the essence.
There’s no tub out here, so in its place, they dig a hole and line it with the clay. Essek insists on helping, only stopping when he’s out of breath and sweating, the others taking the spade from him and sending him out. Caleb watches his friends as he starts to set up the circle and tries not to think how much it looks like a grave.
“We’re done,” Fjord tells him two minutes later, grasping Yasha’s offered arm and climbing out. “Good luck!”
“Thank you, here, Veth, would you help Beau with those candles? You know where they need to go. Essek, over here,” Caleb beckons him over. “Are you ready?”
Essek takes a shuddering breath. “Not in the slightest.”
Caleb helps him down and takes the gem dust that Jester offers him with a smile. Kneeling by the hole, he scatters it carefully over Essek’s chest, then looks at him one last time. He leans down, touching their foreheads together briefly. “Hey, look at me. You’re going to be alright, you hear me? You will always have us. We are here. Always.”
Essek tries to smile, tries to put on his old shadowhand mask of confidence, but Caleb can see it wobble.
He closes his eyes and activates the sigils.
The ritual begins. Caleb can feel the power building under his hands, light seeping in under his eyelids as the sigils begin to glow. Each muttered phrase encases them in another layer of magic. He loses time weaving the arcane threads around them, a cocoon of glowing golden strands, strong enough to hold. He knows that outside the little bubble, the clay is rippling, encasing Essek inside, but here, his mind feels close enough to reach out and touch. And as he does, Essek’s mind reaches out to touch him back.
He feels different from Veth- all geometry and edges, but hiding a hot dense mass of chaos inside, a storm encased in crystal. His mind carries a sharpness, a drive, a familiar vibration somehow both brilliant and dark that resonates with something inside himself and sets them both to thrumming. Caleb feels his heart leap and miss a beat, stuttering in his chest at the electric connection. Excitement, trepidation, and wonder that are not his own wash over him in turn. And then between them an image forms, detail painstakingly added with agreement and inspiration and broad sweeps of Jester’s paintbrush. A new home for a soul.
Caleb smiles. He twines his thoughts with Esseks’ and reaches in, intent sharp as a scalpel. He makes the first incision.
It could be minutes or hours before it is done. But, eventually, they are finished.
The clay shatters with a clapping report that echoes back off the trees. Caleb leans back, blinking, as the others rush forward with exclamations to pull away the rest.
“Essek!”
“Essek? That you?”
“Essek! Hey Essek? Are you okay?!”
“I’m fine,” comes a scratchy voice. A cough, a clearing of a throat. A hand reaches up, long, dextrous tanned-brown fingers uncurling. “Help me up?”
Six hands immediately reach in to help him.
He stands, as wobbly as a newborn colt, and lets the others near-drag him up until he’s out of the hole. Caleb staggers upright as well and it suddenly strikes him that they’re the same height now. Hazel eyes stare at him out of an unfamiliar face- the half-elf features softer, the ears shorter and less pointed- but somehow, he’s still familiar. The way he holds himself maybe. The snap of intelligence in his gaze, the way the corner of his mouth turns up into a shy smile. Something hot and urgent prickles up inside Caleb’s chest, behind his eyes, and for a second he wants to reach out, to take hold of him in his arms and-
But then the dawn light breaks over the horizon, and Essek’s gaze is ripped away from his face with a gasp. The sunlight gilds him with gold, and for a second, his expression is pure wonder.
“I have always imagined… it doesn’t hurt…?”
“Well, it will if you keep staring at it like that,” Caduceus tells him with a smile.
“Oh my gosh you won’t need your parasol any more, Essek!! You can come adventuring with us properly!”
And Essek laughs, his new face crinkling in delight in the new dawn, and Caleb has never seen anything more magnificent.
...
“Our apologies. We did try to bring him in alive, but…” Caduceus trails off, gesturing at the bundle of brittle bones and ash on the floor in front of the Bright Queen’s throne.
She gazes down at them, eyes sweeping over their artfully ripped and singed clothing, to the remains on the floor. She gestures, and a cleric steps out, striding forwards quickly to inspect the skull.
“It does appear to be Theyless, your highness. Unfortunately, the bones are… too badly damaged for the divination we would usually perform.”
By the pinch of her mouth, she looks displeased, but resigned. “Yes, I recognise his earrings. Very well. Having him captured alive would have been ideal, but I can see that it was a difficult battle, and that’s hardly surprising. After all, he was highly proficient. ” She waves a hand. “Have the remains of the traitor cleaned away. It’s of no matter- he died far from any beacon. Bury him in an unmarked plot. We don’t want any potential allies trying to raise him.” She turns back to them. “You have proven yourselves once more, Mighty Nein. I’d say you’ve earned a boon for taking care of this… loose end for us.”
Fjord clears his throat. “Actually, your majesty, we were thinking of taking some time away now that the war is no longer urgent. Some of us have families that we’d like to visit, and I think some time away from the conflict would do us good.”
Her face softens. “Of course. I shall contact you if we have need of you, but take all the time you need.”
...
“So, what do we call you now?” Veth asks as they sit around the campfire.
The stars glow bright above them, as though even the Nicodranas night sky is still giddy at their getaway. They’ve hunkered down in the woods for now to give them all a little time to settle. It’s fine. They’re in no rush to go anywhere. Maybe they’ll go and tackle those giant silkworms for Pumat next- something simple. Caleb can’t wait to see Essek’s face when he meets them.
Next to him, Essek shrugs. He shifts and stretches, still clumsy with his new longer limbs, then folds himself to sit cross-legged. The firelight flickers and catches on his cheeks, blurring his features and Caleb’s memories into one. He looks happy. He’s looked happy more often in the last two days than in the entire time they’d known him.
“I’m not sure,” Essek answers her question, “I can’t exactly go by Essek any more, it’s not a common name outside the Dynasty, and it might be just a small giveaway if word of your mysterious new companion gets back to the Bright Queen.” Just a hint of his old sarcasm trickles into his voice. Beau snickers. “How did you choose your new name?”
Veth hums, pulling another mushroom off the skewer. “I recommend an anagram of your old name. Have you considered Kesselt Sheys?”
Jester giggles, leaning on Beau as she toasts another skewer. Fjord snorts. Caduceus starts to hand out tea, glancing at the small space between them and smiling meaningfully. Caleb is glad the firelight hides his reddening face.
“I didn’t choose a name for a long time,” Caleb tells Essek, passing him a cup and ignoring Caduceus’ knowing look. “I took a new name with every town until I met Veth. Don’t worry,” he pats him on the arm, that shy warmth blooming in his chest again. “You’ll find one that fits.”
“Find something that fits,” Essek contemplates, glancing at him with his lopsided smile. “I like the sound of that.”