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“This is going to be the best prank!” Jester danced back and forth from foot to foot, looking over Veth’s shoulder as she stirred together the latest round of drinks for the Nein, who were gathered together in the Xorhouse for their annual reunion party. “Alright,” Veth said, “We’ve got the Tonic of Tickling Giggles, we’ve got grapefruit juice. A splash of gin for each—except yours and Deucy’s—and the secret special ingredient…” She whipped out of her dress pocket a small dark blue bottle. “I found this in Caleb’s lab. The label is in Undercommon, but from the little dictionary I have, pretty sure it says ‘Elven Beauty Potion!’” “We are going to be so pretty and party so hard!” Jester sang. *** “TIME FOR SHOTS!” Veth screeched as she and Jester ran back into the living room where the rest of the Nein were. They each carried a platter of shot glasses filled with fizzing pink concoction. A communal cheer sounded. Essek watched Veth and Jester passing out the drinks, ending with Caleb and himself, who were leaning against the bookshelf in the corner, discussing Caleb’s latest cohort of students. “Okay, you two, stop flirting for a second, it’s time for the next round! We call this shot the Beautiful Rubyyy,” Jester said, tail twitching in excitement. She glared at the lowball glass of whiskey in Essek’s hand, then peered behind him, where on the bookshelf sat a multicolored, glittering cocktail in a blue glass. “Essek! You didn’t finish your Unicorn Farts!” “Ah,” he said, scrambling. It didn’t help that Caleb was grinning at him over his own “Unicorn Farts” cocktail, seemingly untroubled by its overpowering sweetness. “Well, this is the whiskey that Beauregard gifted me, so I didn’t want to be impolite to her. I should probably finish this one first.” “Ehhh-sihh-kuh.” Anyone else besides Jester stretching out his name in a silly whine like that would drive him mad. “That’s a boring drink though!” “It’s not boring! I have a little licorice root in here.” Jester looked crestfallen. “That’s black licorice, Essek. That’s gross.” He smiled patiently. “Well, you might find it ‘gross’ but it is a staple in Dynasty cuisine. Especially in candy, like the ones I brought on the table there.” Jester’s jaw dropped. “Those are considered CANDY?” Caleb laughed fully now. “Yes, Jester,” Essek replied. “Those are candy.” She sighed, puffing out her cheeks. “This place is terrible for sweets, Essek, I’m sorry, I know you’re from here and all, but it’s red bean this and black licorice that. Those are not dessert flavors. I mean, what about kids? Kids need sugar! What are they going to get for Winter’s Crest in their shoes? Not licorice, Essek!” Essek’s brain felt overloaded. He had no idea what part of this tirade to respond to, and Jester was still nudging the shot glass against his hand insistently. Caleb had acquiesced to taking one. “Candy … in shoes?” “Vom Nikolaus, natürlich,” Caleb said cheerfully. “That does not explain it…” Essek said helplessly, and in this moment of weakness, Jester struck, forcing the small glass of fizzy pink liquid into his hand and prancing away. “Toast!” yelled Beauregard from where she sat on Yasha’s lap. Veth climbed onto the coffee table and clinked a crossbow bolt against her glass with a loud ting ting ting. “Okay, everyone, shut up!” Veth yelled. The Nein quieted. “Alright. It’s been another year. We’ve all had a couple drinks so I’m going to keep it short and, like Jester’s cocktails, sweet. Here’s to us. Here’s to friendship. Here’s to family. Toooo… the Mighty Nein!” “To the Mighty Nein!” Essek cheered with them all, but drank from his whiskey instead and set the “Beautiful Ruby” on the bookshelf. Caleb made a slight face after downing his pink glass. "Sour," he said, smacking his lips. "You were saying something about vahm Nee-ko-lahs?" Essek prompted, stumbling over the Zemnian. "Ja," Caleb replied, shaking his head a little. "It's a Winter Solstice tradition in the Empire. Children put out their shoes, ah, für den Nikolaus, to fill with candy and little gifts if they've been good that year. Once I thought I could be clever and get more sweets by setting out one of my father's… work… boots…" At first Essek thought Caleb was trailing off due to painful memories. Then he noticed Caleb's eyes had gone crossed. And the room had gone much too quiet. The other Nein were similarly frozen. “Caleb?” Essek said, reaching out for him, frightened.
POOF!
A cloud of pink smoke erupted where each member of the Nein stood, temporarily blinding Essek. He dropped his drink in alarm and prepared to cast— The Nein were gone. Essek’s heart swooped in fear. Then the room was much too loud. Several high-pitched voices were crying, laughing, screaming, whining. As the smoke faded completely, he saw several children in the room, rubbing their eyes, climbing on the couch, shoving each other. What in the name of the light…? He felt a tug on his robes. Looking down he saw, barely coming up to his hip, a freckled young boy with messy red hair in a little purple coat. “Entschuldigen Sie bitte, have you seen my cat?” the little boy said. This solidified the truth for Essek. His friends weren’t gone. They’d been turned into children. Spider tits. This was bad. Something landed on Essek’s shoulders, startling him. Little arms reached around his neck, and he recognized one of Veth’s button bracelets. She’d leapt onto his shoulders from atop the bookshelf. How on in the world had she gotten up there? “Can I ride on your shoulders?” Little Veth yelled in Essek’s ear. Her hands grasped Essek’s hair to keep her balance. “Ach!” Essek cried, and lifted Little Veth off of him. She writhed like a wild purple worm. “No, you cannot.” The second he set her down, she dashed across the room to where a small, stubby-tusked half orc boy was picking up one of the sparkly cocktails. Shit. “No, no, no, don’t drink that, that is not for children!” Essek said, quickly casting Telekinesis to lift all the lingering glasses out of reach onto an upper shelf. But would Little Veth just climb to them again? Shit! The children’s eyes all went wide, and their round delighted faces followed the route of the floating glasses. When Essek landed the last one, they squealed “Wow!” and “Cool!” and clapped. It is only a second level spell, Essek felt like saying. How did one talk to children? When was the last time he’d even talked to a small child, let alone was responsible for seven of them! “Mister Magic Man, Mister Magic Man!” squealed a tiny blue tiefling girl, who was climbing onto the back of the couch, waving wildly at Essek. “Do it again, do it again!” Her hair was in two uneven pigtails, and she had pastry crumbs and berry jam smeared around her mouth. “I…” Essek was trapped between panic at the situation and sugary delight at how adorable Little Jester was. He felt the tug at his robes again and looked down at Little Caleb. “What’s your name, Herr Magic?” the boy asked. “You don’t remember me?” Essek asked. Little Caleb shook his head. Essek swallowed. Alright then. He needed to figure this out fast. And keep them all safe. Fuck fuck fuck. “My name is Essek.” “Sick? Mr. Sick?” Little Jester said. “Do you have a disease? Is that why they call you Mr. Sick? Are you purple because you’re sick? Why are you purple, Mr. Sick?” “Haa, haa, Mr. Sick!” teased a scrawny Little Beau who was jumping up and down on the armchair. Essek clenched his eyes shut. “My name is Eh-ssek, and that is a rude question to ask, about the color of someone’s skin.” Little Jester instantly flopped down onto the couch, arms crossed, and pouted. A small head of bright white hair peeked around the couch, and Essek saw the large, innocent two-toned eyes of Little Yasha. “What does ‘rude’ mean?” she asked quietly. “It means… um…” Essek said, looking around for Caduceus as he scrambled to think of how to explain such a simple concept. Were all his friends in the same predicament at least? It seemed their clothing and equipment had shrunk down with them. What kind of magic could do this…? He spotted the small pink firbolg at the potted plant in the corner, pulling a beetle off one of the leaves and cupping it between his hands. Little Caduceus smiled gleefully. All in the same boat, then. “‘Rude’ means ‘not nice,’” Essek finished explaining. “He said you’re not nice!” Little Beau said, pointing at Jester. “I’m super nice!” Jester screamed back. The two kept yelling, and Little Fjord dashed up to Essek. “Mr. Sick,” he whined, pointing at Jester and Beau. “They’re fighting!” “I see that, Fjord,” Essek sighed. Think, Thelyss, THINK. The drink they all had. There must have been something in that. What on Exandria had Jester and Veth put in it? He took his untouched glass from the shelf and sniffed it. Gin, clearly, and grapefruit juice. That wasn’t good. If they had mixed in some kind of magical tonic, grapefruit juice was notorious for distorting the effects of some magics. There was another familiar scent there, too. Something in the fizz, the sparkling bubbles that floated up… A crescendoing cry broke his focus. He looked over to see Fjord clutching his cheek and wailing. Beau’s hand was still raised in a fist. “Stop that!” Essek said. Hopefully it came out stern instead of desperate. Either way — it didn’t work. Fjord wound up and smacked Beau across the face. “Shit,” Essek growled, and while Yasha sweetly said, “You said a bad a word,” he rushed around the couch and grabbed Beau and Fjord by the scruffs of their necks and pulled them apart. “I said no fighting!” He did his best to use his old, Court-commanding voice with the ridiculous juvenile words. It seemed to work this time, because both Little Beau and Little Fjord froze and looked up at him, wide-eyed and snotty. “Sorry,” they both mumbled, sniffling, just as another cry sounded behind Essek. What NOW? Little Caleb was pushing himself up from the ground where he’d fallen on his face. Essek now remembered feeling, in his levitating rush to get to Beau and Fjord, clutching hands on his robes. He’d accidentally yanked Caleb and the little boy had toppled over. Oh gods. “I’m sorry, Caleb,” he said, hurrying over to help him up. Little Caleb rubbed his eyes and kept crying. “Where’s Frumpkin?” he asked. “He’s, um...” “You dismissed him back into the Feywild months ago.” Probably not a good answer. Did taking care of children always involve this much lying? “He’s on a trip right now.” Little Caleb cried harder. His pale round face was turning bright red. “Bug, bug, bug!” Yasha suddenly yelped, leaping up and scratching at the back of her shirt. The other children shrieked along. Caduceus sat quietly against the wall, grinning and ears flicking. Essek thought of Verin as a child, mischievous as an imp, and always looking like he had a stolen licorice candy in his mouth. Clearly Caduceus had put the beetle he’d found down the back of Yasha’s shirt. One thing at a time, he told himself. Thinking of Verin also gave him a backup plan. If he couldn’t get this sorted out himself, he could Teleport them all to Verin, who was inexplicably great with children, and also wouldn’t ask too many questions. Then they’d have a babysitter while Essek did more magical research. He’d start what he could, at least. With a practiced swirl of his hand, he pulled his spellbook out of his Wristpocket. Caleb’s eyes went wide, and he stopped crying, as if he’d suddenly forgotten to. “Is that a magic book?”
“Yes, it is my spellbook,” Essek replied. “I can do some magic, too!” Caleb said proudly. “Look!” He shifted his legs to a wide stance, stuck out his tongue in focus, spread his arms wide, then clapped his hands together as hard as he could. To Essek’s shock, a tiny flash of orange flame appeared between Little Caleb’s hands for a moment. It reflected in his ginger-lashed blue eyes. “That,” Essek said, wagging his finger as he’d seen his mother do a thousand times. “Is very impressive but very dangerous. Let’s not, ah, do that inside, alright?” Little Caleb hunched his shoulders and hugged himself. “Sorry, Herr Sick.” Essek reached down and awkwardly patted Little Caleb’s shoulder. “It’s alright. How about, um, how would you like to…” What were safe activities for children? He looked around at the others. Little Caduceus and Little Yasha, beetle incident now forgiven or forgotten, were lying on their stomachs on the rug watching the beetle nibble on some scattered peanuts. Little Beau was tossing popcorn in the air for Little Veth to try catching in her mouth. Most of it was ending up on the floor. And Little Jester was standing precariously on the arm of the armchair, doodling with a pastel crayon on the walls, with Little Fjord looking up at her, shy and curious. She was drawing a brown pile of … was that excrement? With a crooked smiley face. Coloring, Essek remembered. That was a children’s activity. Not on the walls, preferably, but that could be cleaned, right? “How about we do some coloring, Caleb?” Essek asked, and Little Caleb smiled in delight. “Ja!” Essek’s heart fluttered, before his stomach sank when he remembered this was not just a cute prank — though maybe that’s what Jester and Veth had intended. He needed to make sure his friends could turn back to their proper ages. “Alright, well, come with me for a minute, and we’ll get some paper and chalk.” Essek would have to risk leaving the others alone momentarily while he went into the kitchen to look for evidence of what was in that drink. Then he could dash upstairs to the laboratory for paper and chalk. Caleb would just have to tolerate the injustice of his high quality parchment and components getting wasted on children’s scribbles. Little Caleb took his hand as Essek led them into the kitchen. His fingers were sticky and warm. Essek had a wild, dangerous thought. He imagined Regular Adult Caleb holding this child’s other hand, and the child had pointed ears and chattered tri-lingually in Zemian, Undercommon, and Common. Regular Adult Caleb in the vision smiled down at the child, then looked at Essek with a tidal wave of pride and love in his eyes. Essek thought his chest might burst from the brightness that filled him at the imagined sight. But it was impossible. Not with magic, a quiet voice in the back of his mind protested. Anything is POSSIBLE. “Herr Sick, I’m hungry,” Little Caleb’s voice pulled Essek back into the present. “Oh. Alright. Yes. How about a cookie?” He grabbed one from the tray of treats Yasha had brought. Children in the Dynasty did not get much sugar. It was considered a contributor to poor behavior. But Essek found he didn’t care in this moment. “Danke!” Little Caleb squeaked, and started munching happily. I’ve bought myself some time. Essek started investigating the table where Jester and Veth had been mixing drinks. It was a liquid-splattered colorful mess. Carafes of grapefruit, apple, pineapple, and dragonfruit juices. Bottles of gin, firewhiskey, plum wine, and jars of clear liquid that had no label, so Essek suspected they were homemade. Under a wet rag behind a precarious tower of champagne flutes, Essek found two empty bottles. One he didn’t recognize, but its garish label said TONIC OF TICKLING GIGGLES: Enchant your friends into peels of laughter and surges of whimsy! Non-toxic! 100% natural and safe! Irreputable alchemist claptrap… The other he recognized. “Oh no…” he moaned. This was a Tonic of Elven Youthfulness. He’d given it to Caleb a few months ago because the man had been interested in studying its dunamantic properties. How had it ended up here? It was strong stuff, and expensive, and was typically imbibed by the vainest drow among Rosohna’s elite for parties or public appearances. It temporarily restored a more youthful appearance. It wasn’t intended for consumption by other humanoids, whose lives were drastically shorter. It certainly wasn’t intended to be mixed with alcohol or grapefruit juice or whatever the Light this bottom-of-the-barrel scam tonic was. “What are you doing?” Little Caleb asked, standing on his tip-toes to peek onto the messy table. “Um. Science. Magical science,” Essek answered. The Elven Tonic was only supposed to last two hours, but who could say for sure after it had been mixed with these other disastrous components…. “I’ll help you!” Little Caleb said, grabbing for the nearest glass carafe. “No!” Essek said, more harshly than he meant to. “Ah, I mean, how about you have another cookie?” Caleb took to the diversion happily. Essek rubbed his face. He wanted another whiskey, but that seemed terribly irresponsible now. Firstly I need to Identify this light-forsaken “giggle tonic.” He laid out his spellbook and began to cast, one ear listening for punches or screams from the living room. Whining and crying he would have to allow. Ten minutes, just ten minutes… He only made it seven. A monumental crash, accompanied by the sound of broken glass and several children shrieking in alarm. Little Caleb’s eyes got big. He was halfway through his fourth cookie. Chocolate was smeared on his face. “Stay here,” Essek told him, and hurried to the living room. The bookshelf he and Caleb had been chatting by had toppled over. Next to it sat Little Veth, unhurt, from what he could see, though crying in high pitched gasps. The other children looked on with gaping mouths. Fjord ran up to Essek. “Mr. Sick, Veth knocked the shelf over!” “Please stop tattling to me, Fjord,” Essek said, gliding over to Veth. “Are you hurt, Veth?” Veth whined between sobs. “I — broke — my — crossbow!” She held up the cracked remains of a toy crossbow, nearly identical to the one she’d bought her son Luc long ago. It was loaded with suction-cup tipped bolts, Essek saw with relief. Not deadly then, but still not a bad thing to have out of commission. “Oh, well, we shall fix it later, won’t we?” Essek said, trying to sound cheerful. He patted Little Veth’s shoulder. “Why don’t you have Jester give you a hug to feel better?” Jester scurried over at the sound of her name, arms open wide. Veth dived into the hug and the two swayed back and forth. “It’s okay, Veth!” Jester crowed. “That shelf was stupid anyway!” The situation seemed out of crisis, so Essek floated back to the kitchen. He found another crisis. Little Caleb had found the pastel crayons Jester had used earlier to make their celebratory banner. He was sitting at the table, short legs swinging back and forth far above the floor, coloring. In Essek’s spellbook. He looked up at Essek’s entrance. Essek was frozen in the doorway, indignation and something unnamable warring inside him. “Look, Mr. Sick, I found the coloring!” Little Caleb turned back to his work, humming to himself. Essek took a massive breath, and released it. He felt exhausted. He glided over to Caleb and looked down at the pages for Identify.
“That’s my Mama and Papa and me and Frumpkin. And our house,” Caleb narrated. Essek felt like he had something large stuck in his throat. “It’s a very good drawing.” His eyes felt hot. Little Caleb looked up at him, leaned over, and patted his arm. “It’s okay, Mr. Sick. I’ll let you color next.” *** An hour later, the living room looked like a bomb had gone off. Most of the lush stack of Caleb’s spellwork parchment was scattered about, covered in various drawings. Fjord had drawn colorful fish, Yasha had drawn beasts Essek vaguely suspected were from the Xorhasian wastes, and Beau had eschewed drawing for running up and down the stairs and hitting things with an umbrella she’d found. All the cookies were eaten. Cups of half-drunk juice were scattered around the room. Several had spilled on the carpet, and Essek hadn’t even Prestidigitated the stains out. Things were oddly quiet now. Essek sat on the couch, the Nein snuggled around him, most of them sleepy-eyed. Little Caleb was nuzzled into his left side, Little Yasha on his right. Little Beau was next to her. Little Fjord had his head on Little Jester’s lap where they sprawled on the floor, and Little Caduceus was next to them. Little Veth was nowhere to be seen — but Essek could hear her breathing behind the couch. Hardly sneaky. On the opposite wall, illusory figures of a young boy and a cat standing on its hind legs danced against a background of a grand ballroom. Essek was sure he’d forgotten some finer points of Der Katzenprinz during this Programmed Illusion, but none of the Little Nein were protesting. “And after dancing and dancing the long night away,” Essek said, slowing his speech in tandem with the slowing, sleepy breath of the Nein around him, “The boy said ‘I cannot stay. I must get home to my mother, who must be missing me.’” Little Caleb snuggled into him and closed his eyes. Little Caduceus sighed and laid down on the floor with Fjord’s leg as a pillow. Essek finished his tale. Caleb’s tale, really. Soft snores filled the room. If he closed his eyes, he could probably sleep, too. But instead he stayed awake, looking around at his friends and smiling, exhausted to his core. Some time later — he must have dozed off — a loud POP sounded again in the room, and the air filled with sky blue smoke. Essek lurched upright. Was this— Were they— “Was—?” Caleb’s full-throated grown voice brought tears of relief to Essek’s eyes. “What’s with this funky blue smoke?” Jester said, as the smoke began to fade. She blinked around at the messy room. “Oh. My. Gosh, you guys. We must have partied so hard! Look at this place!” The rest of the Nein roused and stood and laughed and chattered, but Caleb stayed next to Essek. His brow was furrowed. Essek wanted to smooth out the wrinkles with his fingers. “I feel strange,” Caleb said quietly. “Did something happen, my friend?” Essek beamed, unable to contain his relief. It all seemed like a hilarious dream all of a sudden. “You could say that.” As if it would explain it, Essek pulled out his spellbook, flipped to Identify, and held it out to Caleb. Caleb’s face raced through confusion, humor, terror, pain, and nostalgia. His broad hand brushed across the page. “It seems you have a story to tell, mein Freund.” His voice cracked. Essek reached out, and took hold of the hand on the page. “Who drew this poop on the wall?” Jester screeched delightedly from across the room. Essek sighed. “Yes, I do. But I might need a nap first.”