Chapter Text
“How was Kes-fest?” Beau asked upon my arrival. She was perching on my couch trying to look like she was reading a book. Only, if she were actually reading, she would have made sure to note the page, and instead she’d immediately put it down when I’d stepped through the closet door.
Caleb hadn’t even attempted to pretend that he hadn’t been worried. He was by my side so fast that I half-suspected he had cast haste, then put his hands on my shoulders, eyes flashing with a Detect Magic. Whatever he saw mollified him a little, at least.
“It was enlightening.” And it was, even if I did not count the revelations I’d had about myself and Qos. I had spent the last day allowing myself to be lulled back into acquiescence through the rhythm of panels and demonstrations. Once I joined the throngs of Esseks, it was surprisingly simple to slip back into that mode, as if the previous day had never happened. Few of the Esseks had questions about my involvement in the previous day’s events, and even fewer of them tried to ask me directly about them.
Kes, to my surprise, kept close. And at first I thought she was watching to make sure I did not implicate her for murder, but we apparently had chosen the same panels.
“I miss my brother also,” she said softly. “But also, your reactions amuse me.”
And in that moment I saw myself through her eyes - a muscular Thelyss man, wearing a more affable and earnest mask than the other Shadowhands. I thought about how I’d fallen into a fast friendship with Beauregard, all those years ago - one based on petty antagonism and bickering and competition, and how I’d slotted her into the missing space of sibling by my side. She was a devotee of mMalice, unmistakably imposing and responsible for a great many heinous deeds, but she was also me.
It wasn’t a comfortable thought, though by this time I was getting accustomed to uncomfortable thoughts, and sailed past it to Prestidigitate some jam on her armor.
“I will accept this as my due, but it would be wise to not escalate a prank war with me, Monk,” she replied in my head, and I involuntarily straightened up in my chair as the thought of a thousand skittering spiders raced up my spine.
I paid closer attention to the panel after that.
“Did you get your questions answered, my friend?” Caleb asked softly.
I’d felt like I’d done some good. I’d shared my experiences, and admit to be shocked when so many of the others were interested in the specificities that they talked me into giving an impromptu Q&A in one of the free panel rooms. I spent fifteen minutes alone on best practices for searching Cobalt Soul archives.
I’d learned that there were a great many universes where Caleb was able to settle down within the Empire - to teach, even. I may tell him about those - later, when we are alone. I don’t think I would tell Beauregard about the many universes where she was able to save Yasha - a Dolorav woman who I only half remembered from Beauregard’s early mutterings.
And I’d heard about Verin. The lecture on Verin did answer my questions, but I admit I didn’t find the answers satisfactory. They didn’t tell me about my Verin, and they could not. It was trying to slake my thirst by hearing about water. And worse, I felt jealous of those who had done acts more cowardly than I could have ever imagined, but still managed the courage to talk to him.
“I found out that I was braver than I thought, and a lot more dangerous,” I answered, then swallowed. It was no use to regret my lack of courage and not try to change myself.
“Beauregard. I have a favor to ask. I need you to contact Verin Thelyss. I have reason to believe he’s in Baxxozan and the current Taskhand. He’s…” I stopped. I had no idea how to continue.
Beauregard did. “Kes. Hey. I know he’s your brother.” Despite myself, I must have let my shock show on my face, because she laughed. “I’m an Expositor, remember? You can’t be all ‘oh, I’m only going to mention my brother once a year and then look like someone has banned scented hair oil and then never do any follow up questions’ without me investigating. So I looked up your files…”
“Those files are redacted. And supposed to be need-to-know,” I interjected.
Beau rolled her eyes, as if I was an idiot to think that would stop her. Which, to be fair, I did expect her to be able to figure out her way past redacted files.
“Excuse me - you said in Bazzoxan. That was why you wanted to talk to the Taskhand?” Caleb said, possibly calling up a perfect likeness of him in his mind, and in that moment I was seized by jealousy and a wish to beg Caleb to recite every second of that encounter.
“You should have known, she intentionally talked to an authority figure,” I said, managing to rib Beauregard through my emotional morass.
“Ha ha ha. But yeah, I thought that it might be Verin, so I checked. Same reason I went snooping around the Marble Tomes - one of the reasons, anyway.”
I wanted to immediately interrogate her about what she’d found in the Tomes - not only about myself but what she might have found hidden in the archives. But Verin was more important. “Have you told him about me?”
“What? No, man. Look, I might be a snoop but I’m not a snitch. I thought that - I don’t know. Maybe one day, you might ask, and then I might answer. Or if it seemed like a good time.”
Beauregard looked abashed, and I was suddenly overcome with affection for her. If I were a different person, I might have even gone in for a hug. “How is he?”
“Oh. Uh. Fine? He was kind of stressed the last time we talked, what with the incursions and everything, but he’s probably doing better now. Jessie still talks to him sometimes, I can ask her-”
“I can send something,” Caleb interrupted.
The concept of Jester and Verin conspiring nearly gave me a heart attack, so I nodded before I had a chance to consider the impact of Caleb Widogast and Verin having a discussion about me.
“All right - cool,” Beau said, then took a look between myself and Caleb and decided she didn’t want to be around for whatever was going to happen next. “Hey. Glad to see you’re all right.”
I squeezed her shoulder once. “Thank you,” meaning it as far more than just the reassurance.
Two weeks later, I met Verin Thelyss - my Verin - in tavern in Jigow. I had never had a reason to visit as Shadowhand, and I never traveled much as a child. I chose the site because there was no reason for anyone to be able to recognize my face. It should have felt more alien to me than Zadash or Rexxentrum, where I have spent my last few decades. But being back in the Kryn Dynasty again after so much time away - hearing snatches of conversation in Goblin and Undercommon and the smells of familiar spices - I felt like I’d been submerged in warm water. I knew there were far fewer drow in Jigow than in Rosohna, but it still felt like there were hundreds. The fact that there were others, that nobody gave me a second glance even without disguising the color of my skin - I hadn’t realized how much I missed it. It took effort to not gawp and marvel at the streets, to not gorge myself at every street vendor, and to not beam at the innkeeper as I made my way up to Verin’s room to knock on his door.
My brother looked smaller than I remembered. He was still taller than I was, though it was only by an inch or two. My time among so many taller races meant that anyone I could easily make eye contact with and not risk a neck injury counted as the same height. It was with a shock that I realized I may be threatening to be the more muscular. He kept his hair long, like our parents.
He stared, and I realized that Caleb had not, in fact, warned him about who may be calling on him.
“Essek?”
I smiled, showing fangs. “The one and only.”