Work Text:
They were gone before nightfall.
Good. That was good.
The room that had been prepared for them left little evidence that anyone had been there at all, though Essek did pick up on a residual dusting of chalk, the remnant of a teleportation circle.
Essek remained in the room longer than necessary, still trying to process the contrast between the stillness of the room and the clamor and chaos he’d been expecting.
He’d asked them to leave, and it was a good thing that they’d done so.
And there was no point in staying here and wallowing. Returning to his senses, Essek quickly swept out of the room and closed the door.
Message to be sent to Uraya:
"To research at Conservatory, related to Cognosa Ward: Somnovem, Eyes of Nine, Nonagon. If business in Rosohna complete, please return as soon as feasible.”
Essek reached the base of the staircase into the library, or what passed as such here. There was one wall shelved with maps, another two with a meager selection of books and other assorted documents, and in one corner beside the staircase, a table, a chair, and a lamp.
He approached the maps first.
The lower two shelves and one corner of the third held neatly stacked and organized sheaves--Uraya's work. Their cartography skills were unparalleled within the Dynasty, and they had been sent here with the task of making some sense of the piecemeal sketches and notes of various exploratory parties since the formation of the outpost. Essek had already spent some time familiarizing himself with this corpus, but he thought he would start by taking a second look at them, to see if his newfound knowledge led his eyes to any particular details he may have glossed over before.
What he was looking for, then, was something related to translocation, specifically between planes. If he was correct, this was what this Lucien and his associates would be after--a way to transport themselves to the place in the Astral Sea where the Cognosa Ward had been sent.
The Cognosa Ward...
It would stand to reason that if there had already been a plan in place to send this ward of the city away in event of a catastrophe, the means to bring it back would be placed near where that ward had once been.
Of course, as far as Essek was aware, their excavations had not yet found any trace of the Cognosa Ward.
Of course, there wouldn't be, if it was sent to the Astral Sea.
All of this was running through his head as he leafed through page after page of meticulously detailed maps, taking care to preserve Uraya's organizational scheme (or he was sure to hear about it later). Nothing stood out as of yet, but it was still early in the process, and he knew that answers didn't always come immediately.
"It takes time," Caleb's voice echoed in his head.
Essek paused in the middle of copying down a detail from one of the maps.
It had never occurred to him that he might be able to treat himself like... like a research project, or an experiment of sorts. Part of what made him the magical prodigy he was (aside from his superior intellect, of course), was his ability to look past the arbitrary theological rules and mores of Kryn society to see knowledge as knowledge, all of it worth exploring and putting to use. Now, perhaps he had taken this philosophy too far, perhaps there were reasonable limits informed by the realities of the world, rather than the teachings of religion, but the point was looking beyond one's own hangups--in his case, shame. Perhaps if he could see his past mistakes as failed experiments, he could analyze them for useful information and use that to inform a new experiment, that of becoming a better person.
Achieving a greater "maturity of soul," his mind supplied.
He let out an annoyed huff at the memory, the pronouncement of the Umavi council that he lacked the "maturity of soul" to proceed with the rite of consecution. Then, just a year later, his brother was consecuted with no such questions raised. Verin was just more willing to submit to the status quo than Essek was, he had decided at the time, that was the only difference. Beyond his own family, Essek would never admit that his request had been denied. Just about everyone assumed he was consecuted, that as a scion of Den Thelyss, he had to be by now, so he allowed them to think that. Rarely did he have to lie outright on the matter. But he made sure everyone was aware that he did not think much of the rite. It was a religious formality, nothing more.
Now he thought of it, he had to admit that behavior was rather... immature.
So maybe the Umavi council had a point. Not about everything, but maybe just about that.
Looking down, Essek realized that, having paused his writing mid-sentence, his quill had now left a large stain on the parchment. He sighed and cleaned the mess with a cantrip, then continued his research.
Perhaps, the self-improvement could wait. Or perhaps this was part of it too, Essek wasn't quite sure.
Response from Uraya:
“As it happens, I am familiar with two of these terms and have a hunch on the third. I will research further and return soon.”
On the matter of trusting Essek, the Mighty Nein were as diverse as… well, as diverse as they were on any subject. Frankly, the level of group cohesion they had managed to achieve was staggering, given how different they all were.
Two of them, in speaking with Essek had spoken (incorrectly) for the whole group on how much or whether they trusted him, but it was the course of the conversation itself that revealed, at least to a certain extent, where each party member was on this.
Jester clearly trusted him the most. He wanted to think that she shouldn’t, that such quick and ready forgiveness was cheap and unearned, but in fact, to his own surprise, he found he admired her generosity of spirit. He couldn’t find it in himself to wish her to be more jaded or cynical.
But he also appreciated the distrust he received from others—Beauregard staring at him from a corner of the room, making no effort to hide her scrutinization of his every word and movement. It challenged him to be honest, to resist every habit and instinct to lie and obfuscate. He needed that.
But he couldn’t quite face up to Caleb’s distrust. It was deeper and more personal. He understood Essek like nobody else ever had in his life, and found him lacking. That was what hurt more than anything.
A small, slim paperbound book was hidden near the end of the highest shelf in the outpost library. It was not large enough to fit a title on its binding, but the title on its cover, once Essek had cast the spell to comprehend it, read: the Wisdom of the Somnovem. Essek rushed to the desk with it, then went back to his quarters to fetch a pair of gloves, as the book’s ancient parchment was extremely fragile.
Carefully turning each page, Essek scanned through the content, but quickly found himself disappointed. It was all dry and pedantic lecturing on the Aeorian magical tradition and the importance of preserving it, the greatness that was their people’s destiny. Though various passages were attributed to different members of the group, it all sounded the same. It all seemed… sanitized.
Essek worked in government. He was very familiar with language that was used to instill loyalty to those in power, and he could recognize it in this ancient civilization as easily as he could in his own. Whoever’s words these were, he doubted they truly came from the Somnovem.
Essek closed the book and placed it back on the shelf. He supposed it had its own sort of academic usefulness, but it wasn’t really what he needed.
“Heyyy Essek, we’re here with your brother and he said he’d help! Should he bring anything from home? He’s almost as awesome as you are!”
“Thank you, Jester. Tell him that I am well provided for here, and have everything I need.”
“I hope you haven’t disturbed my organizing scheme,” Uraya said by way of greeting as they entered the library.
“Not a single map out of place, I promise,” Essek assured them. “It is good to see you.”
“You as well, Essek,” they said, climbing onto the chair beside him. “I understand you have some interest in the Somnovem?”
“My friends, the Mighty Nein have some interest… in a manner of speaking,” Essek amended, “and I wish to help them. I would appreciate any information you have.”
“As it happens, I know quite a lot. The Somnovem were fascinating figures. They were nine Aeorian mages, who, at the height of their power, elected to put themselves into an indefinite period of stasis, as a means of preserving themselves and their knowledge, hence the title ‘Somnovem,’ you see, ‘sleeping nine’ in the Celestial.”
Essek frowned. “One wonders why they would use Celestial, given their opposition to the Gods in general.”
“Oh but that is exactly why they use Celestial. To them, the Somnovem were something like gods themselves, or at least the closest that Aeorian society had.” Uraya cleared their throat. “But let’s see, where was I? Oh yes. As a part of their stasis, something of the Somnovem’s consciousness was preserved inside of gems inlaid into a plinth in the chamber in which they slept. By touching one of them, a person could have a conversation with one of the mages as if they were yet conscious. And when I say they were like gods, there were generations of scholars who had sole access to these gems, who devoted their lives to preserving their knowledge and keeping their memory. The writings of these scholars were revered as scripture among the general public.”
“So what of ‘Nonagon’ and ‘Eyes of Nine?’”
“Ah, the Nonagon was a figure of prophecy, someone chosen by the Somnovem and given the power to reawaken them, at the proper time.” Uraya paused. “I have always believed this to be a myth. After all, if such a figure existed, wouldn’t the Somnovem have brought them forth before Aeor came to ruin? But I do find it fascinating that such a myth can exist in a society that—”
Essek held up his hand. “As a matter of fact,” he said, “my friends have reason to believe the Nonagon is real, that someone they know has assumed the mantle.”
Uraya leaned forward. “Is that so?” Essek could almost see the thoughts racing behind their eyes. “I wonder if we could meet this individual. I have many questions.”
“I uhh…” Essek felt a little wrong-footed. “Their experiences with him, and with the subject matter in general… have not been positive. They… do not believe the Somnovem should be brought back, and have in fact been working to prevent this possible outcome. That is why they sought my help.”
Uraya tilted their head. “Huh,” they said, “a conflicting account.” They brightened. “I love a good conflicting account.”
Essek kept an internal catalog of all the times Caleb had touched him. He didn’t exactly mean to keep it, but the touches themselves were so few and sparse, and held so much weight in his mind, that he could hardly help himself.
The first time was hardly anything. While Essek was teaching him some spells, Caleb had tapped his shoulder to get his attention to make sure he’d copied something down correctly.
The second was that time in the Lotusden greenwood that he tried not to remember. (But he remembered.)
The third was after his dinner with the Mighty Nein, Caleb had touched the small of his back to get by Essek on his way to the hot tub, which was when Essek had realized with a jolt that Caleb had removed all of his clothes. (To be fair, so had most of the rest of the Nein.) He could’ve sworn that Caleb had glanced behind him to see if Essek was watching.
The next day, in the fervor of magical creativity, there were too many small touches to count: accidental touches when they both reached for the same sheet of paper, intentional ones to direct attention to some detail or another. The warmth of the contact blended in with the euphoria of intellectual pursuit, and somehow the embrace at the end wasn’t overwhelming as it might’ve been, it just felt… right. A fitting culmination.
Then, a hand at his cheek, a kiss to his forehead. The penetrating force of Caleb’s gaze may as well have been another point of contact, as well as the soft insistence of his words.
Just yesterday, Caleb grabbed his arm again, at the same place as he had in the Lotusden. He placed a hand to Essek’s cheek, exactly as he had in that dark room on the Nein’s ship. Were these echoes intentional?
Either way, Essek was trying very hard not to think about how the curve of his face seemed to fit perfectly into the curve of Caleb’s hand. That didn’t matter. There was no future in it.
“What does ‘maturity of soul’ mean, exactly?” Essek asked.
Uraya, who was just about to leave after giving their daily report, seemed confused. “In what sense?” they asked.
Essek sighed. He might as well be honest. “About sixty years ago, the Umavi council prevented me from being consecuted because I lacked ‘maturity of soul.’”
“Ah,” Uraya said, sitting down once more. “That’s actually practical concern in the consecution process.”
“Practical?” He had not been expecting that answer. “How so?”
“Well you see, in order to be consecuted, you must navagate to a specific place within the beacon, and moving around in there…” They paused, searching for words. “You are aware that, in the Astral Sea, one’s ability to move is dependent upon their intellectual capability?”
“Yes, I’ve heard of that.”
“It is like that inside the beacon, but the determining factor is the development of one’s soul,” Uraya concluded. Then they fixed Essek with an appraising look. “I’m surprised you didn’t know this. Anyone who is consecuted could have told you as much.”
Essek looked down at his hands. “I’m afraid I was too proud to ask.”
“Well,” Uraya said, “I would say it takes some maturity to make an admission like that. I don’t think it would hurt to ask the council again about consecution. You might get a different answer.”
Essek couldn’t suppress an incredulous laugh.
“You don’t think so?” they asked.
“I…” Essek hesitated. He was trying to be more honest in general, but he still didn’t want to tell Uraya the extent of his treachery against the Dynasty. “Perhaps I will give it another try,” he said.
“Okaaaayyy, we’ve got some people together and Caleb’s getting ready to teleport us back. Wish us luck! Hope we don’t die or something! Here goes!”
“Good luck to you all. I will see you soon.”
They arrived safely, and Essek let out a breath he had been holding since receiving Jester’s message.
As expected, Jester immediately ran at Essek and threw her arms around him, and he should’ve felt overwhelmed, but all he felt was warm and happy. He raised his arms and returned the embrace, and that was nice too.
“I’m glad you made it safely,” Essek said as Jester stepped back, beaming. A quick scan of the group confirmed that all of the Nein were there, as well as a few others. He recognized a tall woman with a halo whom the Nein had introduced to him some time ago, as well as the Tal’doreian mage who had so abruptly called a halt to the Dynasty’s attack on Rexxentrum. The stout, heavily armored halfling woman by her side, however, was unfamiliar to him, as was another woman with long brown hair and a leg made of vines.
But standing near the back of the group looking a bit lost was someone more familiar to him than anyone else there. Essek caught Verin’s eye, and they nodded at each other.
“Well, why don’t we adjourn to my quarters?” Essek suggested, “there is much to discuss.”
As they began to walk he felt someone’s shoulder bump against his. He thought maybe it had been accidental, until—
“That one gets under your skin, doesn’t she?” Caleb asked, nodding toward Jester, who was skipping ahead of everyone else.
“She does have that sort of way about her,” Essek agreed, “but she’s not the only one.”
He glanced up at Caleb’s face, and of course Caleb had understood the implication. He smiled, fondly and sadly, and caught Essek’s hand, giving it a quick squeeze, before dropping his hand again and walking on ahead.
Essek let out a long breath as they all entered his quarters. That was two more touches to add to the catalog. But now wasn’t a time to dwell on such things.
He was still trying to gain his bearings among the large crowd when he heard a knock on the doorframe.
Uraya stood in the still-open doorway, arms full of sheaves of parchment. “I saw the commotion and figured it was time to gather some of the relevant maps,” they said. “Shall I?”
“Of course,” Essek said, and he helped them pile the maps onto a nearby table as everyone else settled down and found their seats, some in chairs, some on the floor.
Essek moved to close the door, then cast a warding spell around the room for good measure. He turned and found everyone had quieted down and was looking at him, some encouragingly, some suspiciously, some merely curious.
He cleared his throat. “Shall we begin with some introductions? I don’t believe I know everyone.”
About five different people spoke at once. The chaos began.