Chapter Text
Beau didn’t stop when she entered Caleb’s house - she just walked in the front door, walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water.
“So I think I’ve fucked up,” she said, then downed the water as if it were something stronger.
“Hello, Beauregard. How did you fuck up?” Caleb checked his page number before setting his book down and moved the sandwich he’d been absently eating aside.
Beau set down the now-empty glass on the counter and finally faced Caleb. “Well, okay. So Astrid and I had our normal ‘meeting between the Cerberus Assembly and the Cobalt Soul to prove that we’re willing to work together even though it’s just a polite fiction’ going on, right? And at the end, we were trying to figure out when to schedule the next meeting. And like, somehow that’s always the worst part of these already horrible meetings, so my mind is pretty numb. And she tried to schedule it for next Miresen, in the evening.”
“Ah, if you have to miss our Feuersegen celebration, then I understand.”
Beau shook her head and sat in the chair across from Caleb - but not before lifting a knowing eyebrow at the two chairs at his small kitchen table. “No, man, this is your thing. I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Which is what I told her.”
“I fail to see a fuck up?” He tried his best to look disinterested. Having a second chair didn’t necessarily mean anything - certainly not that a certain Krynn colleague had taken to sharing meals with him in his home. And if he had, it was none of her business.
“She invited herself.”
“Ah.” He’d kept his distance from Astrid - from all of the Cerberus Assembly - since they had left the Blooming Grove. Beau had been the official intermediary for their investigation, and Caleb had been grateful that she had taken that lead without question.
Beau went from reluctant to defensive in a flurry of arm movements, and Caleb leaned back in his chair out of instinct - even though he was safely out of range. “Look, I’m better at the diplomacy thing than I used to be, but like, she’s both a politician and an assassin and I felt like if I was going to say no or even like ‘ask Caleb yourself’ it was somehow going to start a war. I can’t explain it; I don’t even know with who!”
And there was no way that Astrid didn’t know the date. She’d grown up in Blumenthal, same as Caleb. Though, Caleb supposed Astrid wouldn’t have a reason to expect Beau would be celebrating it - maybe she just saw the opportunity when Beau mentioned the date. Did that mean that she no longer celebrated it herself?
She’d loved Feuersegen when they were in school, and talked about missing it terribly. Trent had discouraged it while they were under his care. It was a rural celebration, as rare as the Zemnian language in Rexxentrum - and celebrating it gave too much away about who they used to be.
They’d celebrated it in secret anyway, and dealt with the punishments when Trent found out. It had been worth it.
“It’s fine. It’s a celebration meant to be shared with family and friends - the more, the merrier.” Caleb tried on a reassuring smile, but from the look on Beau’s face, it didn’t quite fit.
“I’m sorry man, I know how much you were looking forward to celebrating your ‘fewer zagan’ thing. You should be able to celebrate it without your ex making things awkward for you. And also worrying about her looking to sabotage our current investigation into the Cerberus Assembly.”
Caleb tried to find the appropriate reaction. Just accepting Beau’s sympathy felt dishonest. But he couldn’t think of a way to explain his discomfort to her. He hadn’t dreaded the holiday - not really. He’d been swept up in Jester’s enthusiasm at the idea, and it would be nice to be able to celebrate it again. But there was no way he’d be able to celebrate Feuersegen without inviting ghosts. Feuersegen was Blumenthal, and a happy family, and cousins and grandparents filling the home. It was a cold stone floor with a makeshift light display and conjured fire. So the ghosts were to be more literal than he’d imagined. It would be fine.
At least he didn’t have to re-explain everything to Astrid, he thought a little traitorously. The rest of the Nein meant well, but having to explain something that was as much a part of his early life as bread and butter made him feel more foreign than ever. As if he were some strange exotic oddity, when usually their differences could be forgotten. And he still had those memories of his first year in Rexxentrum, of feeling rural and unsophisticated and somehow far from home, though Blumenthal was only a half day’s ride away.
“She might have her plans, but we have Jester,” he managed, finally. Beau allowed for an answering snort, which made him think the matter had dropped. “Thanks for the warning, I will be sure to let Essek know.”
Beau dropped her head into her hands. “Oh man, I didn’t think - do you think she would do anything? I mean, she already knows.”
Caleb shrugged. “Probably not, but I’ll let Essek decide his comfort level.”
The rest of the week passed … fine. There was a little preparation. But as keen as Caleb’s mind was, he had been barely more than a child the last time he celebrated at home. And his memories centered on unhelpful things - the fine dress his mother wore, the house transformed not with decorations but with loved ones, furniture moved to make room for a few extra seats. Other than the candles and the sweets, he finds himself unsure of what else to do.
It was Miresen soon enough. Astrid arrived a full hour early with a tanned and surprisingly happy looking Eadwulf in tow to an otherwise empty home.
“Most of the Nein are coming in from Nicodranas,” Caleb explained as he took a dish of latkes from her. He hoped that they wouldn't ask how the Nein were arriving - he didn’t want to make it too obvious that their last guest was Essek. He had decided to aim for plausible deniability as a comfortable medium. There was a good chance that Astrid and Eadwulf would at least suspect, but Caleb didn’t want to make it too obvious.
“And Beau and her wife did not think to stop by to help, I will hold my shock,” said Astrid. Then, softer “You look good, Bren.”
“So do you. Both of you. The sun agrees with you” he said to Eadwulf, only fishing a little to try and see where he had been.
But Eadwulf only grunted and headed into the kitchen, then looked around. “Someone else bringing the brisket?” he asked, “or are you setting up everything in your tower?”
The brisket. All of his childhood memories were of the sweets, he’d forgotten the main dish. His mother never let him in the kitchen for holidays, he had no idea how to cook it. “I hadn’t planned on the tower tonight - it didn’t - it felt better to set it up in the home.” He paused, trying to think of how to explain the lack of brisket.
But before he could say anything, Astrid stopped him. “No matter, that’s why we’re here. Did you remember the candles, at least?”
“Of course” Caleb said, trying to not sound defensive - even if he did manage to forget the main course of a dinner, he wasn’t completely off. But Astrid had already moved on to solving the problem with a quick sending, then settled in to write on the long dining table Caleb had purchased to seat all of the Nein. Not ten minutes later, a young, harried looking half-orc knocked with a brisket at the door.
“The perks of higher office,” Eadwulf commented from Essek’s chair in the living room, having just settled on a book to read. Astrid, still writing, made a small sound of assent, but instead of getting up and handling the meat herself, summoned her unseen servant to take it to the kitchen.
Caleb wasn’t sure what might be a safe topic of conversation. He didn’t even particularly want a conversation, but he felt like he should be on his guard for a rogue topic of interest to spring up and be ready to head it off at the pass at a moment’s notice. He needn’t have worried. His guests settled in without a word - after a quick perusal of his shelves and helping themselves to his books - and he allowed himself to at least pretend to read until Jester burst in the door.
“Hiii, we’re here! Sorry if we’re a little early, but I had plans I wanted to go over before the… oh, you’re already here,” Jester deflated. Essek, in disguise, took in the room - and Eadwulf sitting in his favorite chair - and started forward before stopping himself.
“Sorry to disappoint you all with our punctuality. Dinner has had a slight delay, but it will be ready in a few hours,” Astrid took in the group with a nod, then paused for only a moment on Essek’s half-elven disguise. She turned to Caleb. “Unless your Krynn colleague has shared with you the secret of hastening cooking times.”
“It’s been too long since I’ve last had a conversation with the Krynn colleague in question, but I don’t believe we’ve ever discussed using those types of magics for cooking.” He’d last talked to him this morning, of course, but it had still been too long. Jester caught on immediately, and broke out into a smile and squeaked before covering her hand with her mouth. Essek had a small smile of his own, just a slight quirk of the lips, and Caleb hoped that Astrid and Eadwulf didn’t recognize it for what it is.
“Hmm, maybe a modified haste spell,” said Eadwulf, sounding like he was giving the idea serious thought.
“I’ve heard rumors of a high level chronurgists being able to make a creature age years in seconds, surely someone has applied that theory to getting dinner ready on time?” Astrid said, a little arch.
“I don’t think that the arcane theorists are likely to make their own food,” Essek’s voice was dry. But then he caught himself, and deliberately stepped forward, shadowhand smooth, and offered his hand. “My apologies, I do not think we’ve been introduced - I am Leorryn. I met the Nein on their travels.”
They’d worked together on his false identity, hopefully crafting something that was just vague enough to be true without arousing suspicion. The name was a variation on one of the archmages from the Calamity. It would be good practice for meeting strangers later. If there was going to be a later.
“Hmm, what you are discussing would be a very high level spell - but perhaps it would take much less arcane power to cast on an object rather than a person, though,” said Caleb. Hopefully he could use the arcane to distract the wizards. Though if Astrid was already taking a chance in mentioning dunamantic spells in front of a possible stranger, chances are she had already guessed who he was.
Besides, modifying Time Ravage would be a very interesting experiment.
“Maybe we should just wait on dinner,” said Caduceus, looking a little uneasy.
“Yeah! I brought the special doughnuts! I had them made myself! I mean, I didn’t make them myself but I talked for soo long with the cooks at the Lavish Chateau and they tried out a couple recipes and I had Caleb taste test them last week and choose his favorite, so I still put a lot of work into them, and they’re really really good. We can just eat those until dinner.”
“They do smell great,” said Fjord, supportively.
There was a little bit of cursing from the doorway, and Beau and Yasha made their appearance by running straight into Kingsley. “Sorry we’re late - we kind of fucked up the first batch of fried crickets, so we had to redo them”.
“Good as ever to see you, Beauregard,” Astrid said, carefully taking a brown lump of fried cricket from the bowl and biting it in half. “These are not too bad. Are they traditional?”
“I usually don’t bother battering them up first,” admitted Yasha.
“Maybe it is time for us to head inside?” Caleb gestured further into the house. The Nein released themselves from the entryway, setting down foods, grabbing drinks from the kitchen, nosily inspecting the area, then coming together to have conversations. Astrid and Eadwulf followed - though Caleb thought that was more the food than the company.
Caleb did his best to circulate. But he was distracted by having so many people in his small space, of the idea of being able to host, that he ended up overhearing snatches of conversations more than anything else.
He’d started off by checking on Essek - worried a little that the drow was anxious that his disguise hadn’t held up. Caleb found him talking quietly to Veth near the front of the house, having reclaimed his favorite armchair. Caleb didn’t risk more than a quick shoulder squeeze, and Essek, for his part, didn’t even break his cadence in conversation.
“I have found that the boiling point of water can be adjusted with the application of graviturgical forces, and can be used to create incredibly warm steam that can cook as fast as a great oven, with a smaller material cost.” Essek glanced over again to make sure that Astrid and Eadwulf were across the room, then gave Caleb a quick smile.
Caleb wondered if the topic of conversation or the affection was more likely to give Essek away.
“Well, what’s the problem?” asked Veth.
“Ah, the release. It has a tendency to explode.” admitted Essek, a little crestfallen. Veth, hearing of something that could be dinner and a weapon, only looked more intrigued.
Essek was shooting even more looks at Astrid and Eadwulf. An excited Veth was one who could often forget about volume. And Caleb’s presence here was probably not helping - Astrid and Eadwulf would probably want to speak to him at some point, or at least keep tabs on him. With another reluctant squeeze of the arm, he stepped away from the conversation and went over to Astrid, who had been cornered by Jester.
“So have you celebrated Feuersegen before?” Astrid was saying as he approached. She caught his eye and sent him an old Volstrucker sign meaning come closer for assistance.
“Nope! Have you ever celebrated Waffle Day?” Jester took another large bite from the sufganiyot, licking a little bit of fruit filling that had escaped. The powdered sugar explosion happened without any attempt at containment.
“I can’t say that I have?” Astrid quietly prestidigitated some of the errant powdered sugar from her clothes.
“Oh I’m so sorry for you! These doughnuts are great and all - we do have something like this in Nicodranas that I like better, but it’s still a pretty good doughnut. But a good waffle that you can put whatever you want on it? The. Best.”
“I would say that there is more to Feuersegen than the sufganiyot,” said Astrid, though Jester didn’t look convinced.
Astrid glanced in his direction, then sent him another sign, one that meant impossible situation, please assist. It felt more than a little mean and patronizing, and just seemed to prove that she needed a little bit more time to have Jester wear her down. And well, she wasn’t going to be paying attention to anything but Jester for the short while, which helped with the Essek situation. Caleb gave her a smile and wave and moved on to where Eadwulf was, nearer to the kitchen.
He had managed to pull Fjord and Kingsley into a conversation, though Kingsley seemed more willing than Fjord.
“My family is from Port Zoon originally, so we didn’t celebrate it growing up. And you?”
“Oh, I’m from all over,” said Kingsley.
“I don’t rightly know. I grew up in an orphanage. My family is dead, most likely.” Fjord was straight faced, and his voice had the same sort of monotone that happened when he was trying to end the conversation as soon as possible.
“Oh wait, that’s a much better answer, can I switch?”
Fjord must have forgotten that Eadwulf’s family was definitely dead - and how they got that way. Kingsley, of course, would have never known. But before Caleb could see how Eadwulf would respond, Beau pulled him into the kitchen. Caleb managed not to yelp at the sudden change of scenery, but it was a close thing.
Caduceus was also there, brewing another cup of tea. The tray of vegetables and hummus that Caleb had prepared as a general appetizer had moved to the counter next to the stovetop. Caduceus was absently munching on it while watching the activity in the dining area through the doorway. He waved hello, then Beau slapped Caleb on the shoulder to get his attention.
He really needed to get weaker friends.
“Hey man, I just wanted to do a quick headspace check. You okay? Anything I can do?”
“My head is fine, though my arm is now smarting a bit,” he said, rubbing his bicep for good measure.
Beau rolled her eyes and continued on, “Jester said that she wasn’t able to go over the plan with you before they arrived.”
“Ja, they arrived early. Was the plan the same as the one for the dinner with Trent?”
“Something like it. Hey, look - we love you, and we want you to have a good time. Anything we can do to help, just let us know.”
“Thank you, Beauregard. I appreciate it.” And he did, though he also didn’t think they could help with this. He couldn’t ask them to be anyone except who they were, or to change the past.
Beau grinned. “Anytime. Now I’ve got to pull Yasha in from outside and make sure she gets some of the fried crickets before they’re all gone. You know, they’re actually really good.”
Caleb watched her exit out the back door, then turned to Caduceus, who had been watching them.
“What do you think?” he asked, and didn’t bother to specify about what.
“I think that you’re better off when you’re not thinking about what this day is. It can get loud out there, and you can always take a break. But all of these people made the choice to celebrate with you. Enjoy that a little.” And with that, Caduceus took his tea in one hand and the vegetable tray in the other and walked back out into the party.
And - the advice didn’t quite fit. Pretending that he wasn’t trying to celebrate Feuersegen - filing off anything that couldn’t easily be explained away - that felt pointless at best and dishonest at worst. But it was true that he hadn’t been too worried about the holiday when he’d been milling around before. Astrid planning something, yes. Eadwulf finally aggravating Fjord enough that he reacted, maybe.But the gathering had felt fine. Maybe he should go out to enjoy it - or at least try some fried crickets.
Besides, Astrid’s unseen servant was coming back to check on the brisket, and Caleb suddenly felt in the way.
Astrid herself was standing near the cricket plate, joined by Eadwulf.
“You know, these are actually kosher,” Astrid was saying. The earnest expression on her face made her look younger. Caleb thought she was actually enjoying herself.
“I think you’re making that up.” Eadwulf mostly looked indulgent, but he had a handful of crickets himself.
“No - it’s because they can swarm and eat entire crops, so Zemnians decided they were safe to eat. And something about the leg placement.” Astrid frowned, and seemingly indicated cricket legs with her hands. Caleb wondered how much she had to drink.
“We don’t know anything about the type of cricket that Yasha used, though,” Caleb said, not able to resist the debate. “Or anything about the batter.”
Astrid clearly had a response lined up, but Eadwulf cut her off before she could start. “Why does it matter? Neither of you have kept kosher the entire time I’ve met you.”
Caleb shifted, just a little, somehow still uncomfortable with the subject, even with them. “I kept kosher at home. Didn’t want to stand out too much at Solstryce - not that way, and then I was on the run, and wasn’t going to have any food restrictions.”
“Do you want to? Now that you can?” Essek asked, coming up behind. Caleb moved out of the way of the cricket bowl and let him take a few.
“Ah, no. Not really,” Caleb said, unable to avoid staring into Essek’s eyes. Essek stared back, just as intense. Caleb knew that if he’d said the word, Essek would help, however he could - and Caleb couldn’t help but wonder how he got so lucky.
They really shouldn’t be doing this right in front of Astrid and Eadwulf.
Astrid cleared her throat, and apparently took pity on him. “Should we start the lighting ceremony?”
“Ah, lighting ceremony? What is entailed?” Essek did his best to look unaffected, but there was still a telltale catch in his voice.
Jester piped up from across the room. “Yeah! Caleb said it was something about being trapped in a cave but his version didn’t make very much sense!”
Caleb didn’t want to think about how much attention she’d been giving him, and what she might have seen between him and Essek. And now they were all paying attention to him.
“I couldn’t get through an explanation without an interruption,” he said, sounding more irritable than he actually was.
In truth, he’d done his best to avoid more than a basic explanation, and let Jester lead the conversation on a merry chase around baked goods. That old discomfort reared its head again - a protectiveness around his past happy memories. And when he imagined the words to describe the holiday, it seemed so small. There were no lavish decorations, no parades or massive displays. It was only a good meal and a few candles without the weight of emotion.
But they were all here to celebrate, and to support him. He could hardly deny them now.
Astrid, ever prepared, looked at Caleb and said, “Well, do you want to lead, or shall I?”
That did make it easier to begin - he’d rather be in control of the story, if it had to be told.
“Long ago, when our forebears had only begun to dust themselves off from their great fall and the afterbirth of the Calamity still stained our lands, a group of Zemnian hunters ran afoul to some night-dwellers,” started Caleb in his best professorial voice.
“What the fuck’s a night dweller?” asked Beau.
“That’s a subject of great debate actually,” Caleb said.
But before he could continue, Eadwulf interrupted with, “Probably a vampire.”
Astrid shook her head and wrinkled her nose. “A vampire makes no sense, perhaps a sorrowsworn?”
“None of the details make real-world sense,” shot back Eadwulf.
“Didn’t you say that you hadn’t grown up celebrating Feuersegen?” Kingsley said, having found a moment to show someone up and deciding to take it.
Eadwulf was as unbothered as usual and shrugged. “My parents didn’t really celebrate it, but I still put a scroll of protection on my gingerbread house. I’ve heard the story enough.”
“A matter of great debate, as I said.” Caleb wrested back control. “Now, the hunting party had only their wits and a handful of supplies. They created a ring of fire to keep the night-dwellers at bay - whatever creatures they were.”
“They had no food nor water, nor any way to find them,” Astrid matched the pitch of the melody that would normally go along with the line. It was only a little sing-song, but Caleb could still hear the rest.
“That’s why you always keep a cleric around,” Eadwulf looked at Caduceus for approval, though Cad’s attention seemed to be elsewhere. Jester, however, preened.
“The only thing that kept the night dwellers at bay was a circle of candles - candles that should have melted down before the end of the long, long night. But the candles were not made to last through the long, long night. And then, one by one, they started to go out,” Caleb said.
Astrid broke in. “Then, one of the hunters, in a fit of desperation, began to sing a lullaby from old Zemniaz, about calling some dancing lights to entertain a baby. And something about the words, the intent, the half crazed belief - the spell worked.” She brought up her own Dancing Lights, unable to resist a little flourish.
“Always thought it sounded more like a sorcerer thing myself,” said Eadwulf.
“There’s a debate about that, too.” Caleb supposed it’d be more difficult to find parts of the story that everyone agreed upon than parts that might be up for debate.
Astrid cleared her throat, and Caleb ceded the floor to her. “The hunter was able to teach the cantrip to their companions, and with it, they survived the night. It is said that those hunters helped return magic to the Zemnians, and with it the hope that they needed to leave the northern shadows and venture into the more fertile farmland. To dream of a better future, one beyond base survival.”
It took a moment for it to be clear that the story was finished. Jester started to clap, and Astrid immediately scowled, but her face cleared into a confused blankness when she seemed to realize that she was being sincere.
“I’m surprised this isn’t celebrated more in Rexxentrum,” said Fjord.
“Rexxentrum welcomes you in, but they clean their house first. When it comes to our past glory - of Zemniaz and the arcane heights we achieved - then by all means, all the Empire will never let any of their subjects forget. But anything that happened after the fall, and what became of those wizards after? Those are stories to be kept in attics, out of sight and hopefully forgotten.” Astrid’s voice barely hid her disdain. It was easy to forget that she, too, had once been a young wizard from Blumenthal, new to the big city.
“You’re the Archmage of Civil Influence, couldn’t you just influence civilians? I know this is promoting a holiday and not murdering people’s families for sedition, but it still seems like your wheelhouse.” said Beau.
“As you well know, Expositor Lionett, the new Queen and King are hoping to lead to a new, more open age - one more outward facing and friendlier to the outside world; with fewer worries of the state knocking at your door for some minor religious infraction. Promotion of such a regional holiday does not fit with the tone of the current administration.” Now she sounded more like her professional self; a sleek pleasantness that reminded Caleb of how Essek was in those early days.
“I’ve been trying to talk her into promoting Winter’s Crest, but she’s not having it yet,” Eadwulf said with a smile.
Astrid only smiled tightly. “Nevertheless, I think it’s time to start, shall we?”
They stood. Caleb had been afraid - against all reason - that he would forget the words. But they came back to them, the rhythm matching Astrid’s, as they lit the ring of lights. There was still the feeling he was performing instead of an unconscious doing, but the feeling was lessened, at least, by another voice with his. He concentrated on the rhythm of the words and the flickering light of the candles, and lost himself in memories of being a small boy, wishing for magic on cold nights.
And it wasn’t like it had been when he was a boy. His family was gone. But he had achieved heights of magical ability that were unimaginable to him when he was young, and had done more than he could have dreamed. Some of the achievements were even good. And the words were the same, even as they blew out the candles, one by one. After the last candle, Caleb cast Dancing Lights again, for that young boy.
It was much later - after the brisket was finally done, and delicious, and the conversation had gone long into the night - that Astrid cornered Caleb for her goodbyes. Eadwulf had left a half hour before, complaining of time differences. Later, Caleb would use that as a clue as to where he had ended up, but the night had been too full for such puzzles, now.
“You should reach out to Alina Krause and Jonas Vogt at Soltryce for next year,” Astrid said, writing the names down on a sheet of paper and handing it to him. “Though I have to warn you Vogt is from Yrossa, they do things differently there. And I trust you’ll keep your eye out for students that might not be able to return home.”
Caleb memorized the names with a glance, but placed the folded sheet of paper in his component pouch for safekeeping. It was a gift, but one with two conspicuous names missing. “And what of you and Eadwulf?”
Astrid smiled tightly. “That is your choice. We may well be enemies by the next holiday, and perhaps your holidays would be more comfortable without us.”
It was true, and even knowing that, it felt like a kindness for her to mention it. “Were you celebrating alone, for all those years? Or did you let it slide?”
“Ah, no, I was celebrating with Vess. She was unavailable this year.” Astrid gave him a look, and Caleb felt a pang of absurd guilt. Despite what half of Rexxentrum believed, he was not guilty of the murder of Vess DeRogna. And even if he had - he could not be sorry for her death, and neither was Astrid.
“You asked Beau for that date on purpose, didn’t you,” he said, partially because it would change the subject and partially because he was curious.
“Do you know why I like Feuersegen so much?” She said, blatantly changing the subject herself. “It’s about hope, and survival through the long dark night. We’ve survived, Bren. Maybe I wanted to celebrate that.”
She patted his shoulder, and for a second he thought she was going to pull him down in for a kiss. For a second, her young face, free of any scars or lines, superimposed itself, and he blinked as she took a step back. Neither of them were what they’d imagined they’d be, but she was right. They had survived.
And with that, she walked out into the lit streets of Rexxentrum, her fine robes leaving a faint trail in the fallen snow.