Practice battles in the Icosagon had actually faded into being boring. They were safe. There was no risk. There was no desperation. There was nothing at stake. There were even healers hanging around on the bleachers in case the mock battles knocked anyone down. The only thing at risk was dignity.

Tres Horny Bois were sparring against Team Smarty-pants, Carey, Killian, and Angus McDonald. Both sides knew each others’ weaknesses. Both knew that if they were knocked down to zero hit-points, the clerics gathered on the bleachers would butt in and save valuable lives.

It was routine to the point where Taako was almost doing this in his sleep. He much preferred to get back to sleep, which was why he wanted this dumb exercise over with as soon as possible.

Entangle the Meat Shield, confound the Rogue, dazzle the Mage, cha-cha-cha… Magic Missile, Magic Missile, cha-cha-cha…

Angus cast shield. Lad was learning. Taako was nearly impressed.

Well. If he wanted to shake things up, Taako was game.

He dipped into his ingredients pouch and brought out a single, small, hot pepper. The only warning they would get. Then he cast Dragon Breath, aiming at Carey and Killian.

Angus McDonald, allegedly the worlds’ smartest person, leaped between the competent women and Taako and attempted to cast Shield.

He failed.

Taako watched his life fall to pieces all over again in slow motion.

Angus completed the parabolic arc to the floor of the arena as if he were falling through water. Flames licking at him like they had licked at his stage wagon in Glamour Springs.

Some of the bodies were so small. Not as small as the one that was practically at his feet. Crumpled in pain like those who hadn’t eaten as much of the thirty-clove garlic chicken. Crying out like so many of those he had left behind in his panic.

Just like back then, when he had grabbed Sazed and harnessed the horse to their camper wagon, Taako ran. The whole world was slow as he flung the Umbrastaff away from him and started out of the arena. It felt like trying to run through an ocean of molasses. Like trying to breathe cotton.

He’d done it again. He’d done it again! He’d done it again!

There was nowhere to run to, not on the moon.

He deserved this.

He deserved worse.

There was one way to run. Right off the gods-damn moon. He didn’t hear anything but the rushing of blood in his ears, and the painful drag of air through his throat. He could only see his goal - the edge of the moon base. The unprotected plateau that had been the doom of an uncounted number of dogs[1].

He didn’t stop. Let his feet cycle in thin air for a couple of steps. Then shut his eyes so that he wouldn’t be able to regret his decision.

He’d killed a kid who had no-one and nothing to the point where he hero-worshipped a murdering scuzzbucket like Taako. This death was earned and long since overdue.

Payment for Glamour Springs.

Payment for Angus.

Payment for everything else horrible that he’d done in his entire life.

{fomp!} the wind stopped thundering in his ears and something yanked at his left arm.

Taako’s eyes opened. That fucking umbrella did actually follow him. He glared at it through a veil of tears. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demanded. “I killed a kid. I deserve to die…”

The Umbrastaff, as always, was silent.

“I hate you, you accessory from Hell.” So now he was going to live. Fuck. Worse, they could track him because of the fucking silver bracer that his Umbrastaff had a good grip on.

Options. He was going to live because the Umbrastaff wouldn’t let him die. He could cut off his left hand, lose the bracer, and just fucking run. Except he was allergic to pain, so that should be a last resort only.

There were places he could hide where the signal from the Bracer was interrupted There had to be thousands of caverns in The Teeth. He could farm mushrooms and cave slugs and be a cave hobo.

Better than a murder hobo.

A figure appeared before him. Fancy lad. shiny shoes. The feathers in his fancy lad cap were less by one. He had his arms folded and an expression of deep confusion. “Pardon my language, sir, but what the fuck?”

“Great. Now I’m hallucinating,” said Taako.

“No, sir. I’m guaranteed one hundred percent alive. Mr Highchurch was actually handy with a healing spell, sir.”

“Now I know I’m hallucinating…” he rolled his eyes. “The day Merle actually heals anyone is the day the world ends.”

“No, sir. Mr Burnsides reminded him that he can heal and I was fine in the jiffiest of jiffies. But you’d already run off by then.”

Taako reached out with the hand that wasn’t caught up in the grip of a malevolent accessory. Poked Angus.

Kid felt alive enough.

“Are you good, now, sir?”

Taako shrugged, “Well, I’m not as evil as I previously assumed, I guess… Sure you’re not dead?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

They were both featherfalling to the middle of nowhere. Since the moon was closer, it was worth burning a spell slot on. “All right. Improv magic lesson. Come on over to me. I’ll show you what Fly looks like.”

The Umbrastaff was on his side as they soared up to settle on the relative firmness of the Bureau quad. Where Magnus and Merle were waiting with the same question Angus had.

“What the fuck?”

Taako lied like a rug. “Have no fear, gentle co-workers, Taako’s saved the day, the boy, and imparted a valuable lesson.” He denied ever jumping off the moon in the first place, blew so much smoke up everyone’s assed that they gave up on trying to ask Taako anything.

Eventually, they all filtered away, leaving just him and the kid in the middle of the quad.

“Sir,” said Angus. “I heard you say, not again.” He had his notebook and pencil out, raking notes. “What sort of thing could have you panicked like that?”

“Prefer not to answer,” said Taako. “We’re alive today. Be glad of that.” He shut down, turned off, and Blinked the fuck out of there.

Nobody needed to know this shit. If that kid asked any more questions, Taako might actually answer him, one day.

[1] For those of you who are worried - that number is zero. Actually, Davenport and Lucretia are allergic, so they don’t let dogs on the moon.

[TAZ prompts remaining: 4]

Soft warmth beside him. Cozy and safe and smelling of cheap, but never over-abundant perfume. Angus sleepily wrapped himself around his lovely wife and sniffed deeply as he squeezed.

Oh, what a beautiful morning.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains and cast her exposed skin in gold. Her face still lax in sleep. Perfectly calm and drooling a little on the pillow.

Ah, what a perfect view.

She had bed-head and her pyjamas were askew and there was no name for the sleeping position she wound up in other than Pure Agatha. Nobody else in the world could gain comfort from that awkward tangle mixed with sprawl.

Angus propped himself up on one elbow, forced to let her go in the process, but loving the angle he gained from the movement. The best investigative reporter in the world. The smartest and most competent woman he knew.

An amazing companion, a terrific helpmeet, smart and lovely and devoted to their teamwork. He could devote his life to loving every inch of her.

Agatha’s eyelids fluttered open. “Mmh… h’lo.”

The grin would not escape his face. “Hi,” he said, leaning over for their morning kiss. Monster-breath didn’t matter. That kiss was worth waiting for. When they broke it, he said, “Any requests for breakfast? I happen to know some five-star chefs who taught me everything I know about burning scrambled eggs.”

Her laugh was like a symphony. “Silly man.” She reached up to caress his cheek. “It’s a coffee and porridge morning for me.”

“Apples and cinnamon? Raisins? Cardamom?”

She stretched the kinks out before burying her nose in his chest hair for a good nuzzle. Agatha finished with a kiss and said, “Let’s wreck some porridge together. It’s been a while since we got your Papa all incensed.”

It was difficult to get up when she was just lounging there like that, but he had to pee anyway. “I think he may have finally forgiven me for burning the pasta that one time. Wonder if he’s forgiven you for being so beautiful that I couldn’t tear myself away…”

“Still your fault for dancing me off my feet,” she teased.

It was how their mutual cooking sessions had gone for months. Starting to prepare a meal and, through a succession of kisses and cuddles, making out and forgetting that the burners were still burning until the Fantasy Smoke Alarms went off.

Taako, one of the aforementioned five-star chefs, was highly offended by it all.

Basic nods to morning hygiene accomplished, they failed their stealth checks on the way to the kitchen by giggling and shushing each other as they tip-toed towards Taako’s sacred space.

Only to find him there already, in a chair by the old hearth where the Aga now resided. Knitting. Glaring at them as they entered. “You realise I’m only here to stop you setting the farmhouse on fire,” he said. “Whatever you start cooking, I’ll make certain you don’t fucking burn it.”

“I think he’s onto us,” Agatha stage-whispered.

“I think you’re right,” Angus stage-whispered back. He tried to wipe the grin off his face, but rolled a one. “Thanks, Papa.”

Taako rolled his eyes. “Warn me before you start the slow-dancing. I’m too young for this shit.”

[TAZ Prompts remaining: 5]

[AN: Going with Young Ango because bigger angst potential]

Angus hid behind the doorway, breath stilled in his throat, tears prickling at his eyes. Mr Taako and Mr Kravitz were yelling at each other. It was happening. It was finally happening.

They were fighting.

They were fighting because Angus was in the house. Just like any of the other couples who had taken him in for the early cycle of home visits and inspections and the dance of eternal paperwork.

“It’s not babysitting, Krav. He’s our damn kid! Take some parental responsibility.”

“I am being responsible! I’m working for our keep!”

“I got the money sewed up, babe.”

“It’s not as if I can take time off whenever I feel like it! My Queen needs me!”

“Our baby needs you!”

“Stop calling him that! He’s not our baby!”

Angus felt every muscle in his body turn into a knot. Felt his panicked breath stop in his throat. He couldn’t breathe. He was going to die. He was going to die alone and nobody cared about him and Nurse Stronginthearm was going to scrub the meat off his bones for the orphanage stew…

“Oh fuck,” said Mr Taako. There was a clatter of his high heels against the polished floors, and then the smell of floral cologne and his warm presence nearby. “Sweetie…? Sweetie, it’s going to be okay, I promise.”

Angus, panicked, couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe in. Couldn’t feel anything but utter terror. They were going to break up. They were going to split apart because he was here to ruin their love and he was so sorry and he didn’t want to be stew…

“Oh shit,” said Mr Kravitz. He joined Mr Taako in holding Angus. “I didn’t mean to say– What I meant is that you’re a little boy.” Mr Kravitz’s cool hand rubbed over Angus’ back. “You’re not a baby any more.”

The panic still had him in its clutches. He couldn’t breathe. Everything was going dark and he couldn’t breathe and he couldn’t move and the whole world hurt.

Mr Kravitz started to sing a lullabye as both Mr Taako and himself held Angus close. All the terror ebbed away under a gentle and soothing Calm Emotion. Mr Taako’s soft purr provided a non-magical counterpart. With calm, came sweet air. With calm, the knotted muscles eased. Tears fell. Sobs loosed, but that was just because they were held back for so long.

“I’m sorry,” said Mr Kravitz.

“…please don’t go bad,” Angus managed. “…please don’t break up… please don’t turn sour ‘cause of me…”

“Aw no, aawww…” cooed Mr Taako, rocking with Angus in his arms. “It’s just a little tiff, pumpkin… People have fights like this all the time. We got angry at each other, but it’s all over, now.”

Mr Kravitz said, “Taako was right. I do need to share more of my time with you. I need to figure out how to break up my work so that I can have more of a home life.” He moved closer. Wrapping Angus and Mr Taako up in his arms. “Sorry I panicked you.”

“Krav was right, too,” said Mr Taako. “He does important work and it can never wait. Also… you are a little kid. But… I can’t help thinking of you as my baby. I want you to be part of my life.”

Mr Kravitz whispered, “I’d love us all to be a family.”

Angus peeked. Mr Taako had tears slipping from his eyes. Mr Kravitz had moisture spilling from his own. They were both more concerned with Angus than they were about fighting.

A black feather fell from Mr Kravitz’s hair. Angus caught it. Mr Kravitz had never used feathers in his hair.

“I have to go,” said Mr Kravitz. He didn’t sound glad. “I want to come back as soon as I can.”

“I know, babe,” Mr Taako sighed. “Our boy’s gonna need extra hugs.”

“I’ll come back and read him a chapter of Caleb Cleveland. Soon as I can.”

“Don’t let Bird Mom keep you too long with the paperwork.”

Angus, still in Mr Taako’s arms, watched them kiss. They weren’t turning sour. They were okay.

Mr Taako carried Angus to the couch for an extended cuddle session. “Big upset today. Some people broke up when they realised childrearing isn’t alway sunshine and lollipops, right?”

Angus, curled up and halfway wrapped around Mr Taako, nodded.

Mr Taako’s bangles rang as he stroked Angus’ hair. “This is a fight every family has, sweetie. Who does more for the kid. Who does more for the household. Who’s more tired at the end of the day.” Mr Taako took a deep breath. “That sort’a thing broke up my parents. I admit, there was more than a bit of superstition stirred in… Not important. Too long ago. Today… Krav and I had that argument. It happened. We got loud. It don’t mean it’s the end of us. You got that, little man?”

Angus could believe it in the way they kissed. In the way they meant it when they apologised. In the way their touch lingered on each other.

Angus nodded. “I don’t want it to turn bad ‘cause of me.”

“Aw, honey…” Mr Taako started telling stories. Stories about all of his bad choices. About the people he had thought he had love with in the past. The liars, the deceivers, the poisoner who he had once trusted… The manipulators, the ransomers, the controllers… Mr Taako had seen every form of sour love that there was to exist. “So you see… I know what sour looks like.”

Angus sniffled and said, “Yessir…”

“So can you trust me when I tell you that Krav and I are not going sour any time soon?”

A shuddering, steadying breath. “Yessir.”

“Good,” Mr Taako kept stroking Angus’ hair. “Now the bad news. Dinner is a vegetable stir fry because I already cooked that. I can let’cha have a sweet tea to wash it down, though. Good?”

Angus nodded.

“Good.”

Mr Taako held him until the shuddering sadness was over, then let Angus up to have a late dinner and a soothing, sweet tea. By the time he was done, Mr Kravitz was back and hurrying to eat Mr Taako’s good food so he could have time to hold Angus and Mr Taako and read a story.

Angus didn’t make it all the way through the chapter. Falling asleep in someone’s arms was a nice feeling all the same.

[TAZ prompts remaining: 5]

It wasn’t exactly late. Not according to the clock. It was just that he was up all night doing research on the next Grand Relic and didn’t get the kind of sleep that a small boy truly needs to make it through another day.

People in higher education did this sort of thing all the time, and Angus was wondering how. Maybe it had something to do with being grown.

Right now, though, it was hard to focus on anything. He was distracted, disorganised, feeling debilitated. He had to admit, he was also a little disoriented. All of these were good reason to not be training in the Icosagon.

Angus ignored them. If the rest of the people here could train in any circumstances, then so could he.

That was why he made the critical mistake.

He’d been tumbling with Carey and Killian, working on some Rogue evasion skills with Magnus, when he heard Taako’s voice say, “Shield!”

That was a cantrip he knew. Something was arcing towards him through the air.

Angus thought, Magic Missile and lifted his wand.

It was pointed the wrong way.

Three D4 damage later, he woke up in the Base hospital. It was after dark and the lights were low and someone’s hand was on his. Angus reached out with his free hand, finding his glasses and the light switch. Fortunately, in that order.

The being holding his hand was Taako. Elves didn’t need sleep, they said, but this Elf seemed to be conked the fuck out. Slouched uncomfortably in a hospital chair that could easily double as a torture device. His impeccably white shirt was besmirched with blood and snot and some smoke on one shoulder.

Right where someone would cradle a bleeding child’s head as they ran to get that child to help.

Taako startled upright, mumbling, “…no chicken!” His mismatched eyes focussed and he instantly played like he was totally unconcerned. “I said shield, dingus. Not magic missile.” He rearranged his braid, swinging it over to mask the telltale shoulder from view. Too late. “Don’cha trust your tutor, kiddo?”

“I wasn’t thinking, sir,” said Angus.

“Clearly.”

“And I–” he blushed. He was mortified and ashamed and he didn’t want Magic Day to end because of this, but he had to tell the truth… “I didn’t obey rule two.”

Rule one: trust your tutor.

Rule two: get enough rest.

Taako heaved a sigh. “Agnes, Agnes, Agnes… Hot on a case, were ya?”

“I thought I had a lead, but it was a warlock trying to lure people in for a cult.” He still didn’t want to look Taako in the eye. “I didn’t realise the time until Ms Killian came to collect me for practice.”

“Rule three as well, huh?” Which was: always have a good breakfast. “That’s technically three rules in one day, boyo. Know what that means?”

Now the tears finally came. Now he couldn’t even look in Taako’s direction. Now he barely had a voice. “…magic day’s cancelled?”

“Hell fuck no, little man. If anything, magic day’s doubled.”

He couldn’t focus, what with the water in his eyes. “Pardon, sir?”

“You need to level up a little. Get yourself some fucking hit points. You almost wiped yourself out with a dumb mistake.”

Angus wiped his eyes and grinned. “Thank you sir…”

“And…” Taako added. “You’re getting a fucking babysitter. You need people to remind you when it’s bedtime. Or breakfast-time, meal-time… Fuck, you need a whole gods-damned schedule.”

Shame still burned him. He could feel his freedom evaporating. “’M sorry, sir.”

“Buddy, it’s you you’re hurting here. I’m just one who’s tryin’a stop that.” Taako made play of inspecting his nails. “Probably everyone else on the base, now, after that stunt. You got yerself a base full’o parents by now.” A moment’s thought passed. “Maybe a gram’ma in the case of Madam Herself. You’ll be able to tell if she makes you sugar cookies. Now. Let’s see how good you are at following rule two. I’m on the roster for making sure you follow rule three as well.”

Angus woke to a luxurious breakfast and no sign of Taako. Waffles. Eggs. Bacon. Non-dairy, all of it. A gooey sweet compote of seasonal fruits. The first of his new, adopted mothers was waiting nearby. Killian.

“I dunno who cooked that for you,” she said, “but they know their shit, so there’s only a few suspects. You eat until you’re full, kid. Then you get some exercise with me, or reading with Davenport.”

That… sounded like his usual plan for the day. The only difference was that he wasn’t alone any more. He always had someone nearby to remind him of the passage of time. Even the three men he most admired.

They weren’t just monitoring him. They were spending time with him. Which was, when he got down to realising that, the most important part.

[AN: Pour les Artistes - Neosemo (an anagram of “someone” in case y’all missed it) is a half-orc teenager and on the scrawny side when Ango adopts the lad, his condition improves thereafter. Before this story, he is poorly groomed and has bad hygiene. This changes hereafter]

Neosemo attempted to keep track. Everyone knew about Luume, and how Elves were crazy, dangerous, and a combination of the two when that time of the decade hit. Miller Labs had come out with little wearable device to warn young Elves, those of irregular cycles, and literally everyone else around them that things were going to venture into interesting times.

It was still a work in progress.

Currently, he was realising that Luume-influenced adoption was way quicker and more effective than the official paperwork kind. Clerics were busy making certain that, as a Halfblood, Professor freaking McDonald’s Luume bonding was as effective as if he were a full Elf.

So far, he had interrupted the procedures three times to make certain Neosemo had adequate food, drink, and comfort. It kind’a seemed like it was pretty fucking effective to him. One of the tests was to forcibly separate Neoseomo from McDonald’s perception and time how long the Professor took before fretting.

Half an hour. Pretty much right on the button for the fresh Luume adoption of a teen.

Neosemo hadn’t had much in the way of friendly contact. He and the gang he had hung out with usually communicated through punching. It was… kind’a shocking to have someone bigger and stronger than him just scoop him up and purr. It was really weird to have someone pet his hair.

Weird… but nice. He could get used to this.

“It’s going to be okay, now. We can stay in the townhouse until we work out stuff. I’m guessing you have friends? Associates?”

Other strays? He shrugged. “There’s some people I hang out with, yeah. They’d pro’lly wanna throw a party.” This was part of Neosemo’s test. See if these fancy people sneered at his grammar and diction.

They didn’t. McDonald smirked like he knew exactly what was up. “I think I know a fresh grandfather who might like to throw a party. Just… be prepared for some drama.”

The nice lady -Agatha- who had at least kept the interesting times in check for the most disturbing day in Neosemo’s life, was now spraining herself attempting not to laugh. Her dark eyes were twinkling. She cleared her throat. “Dear, that’s like telling someone falling into a star to prepare for some heat.”

McDonald giggled a little and echoed, “Dear…” Luume still had him goofy, apparently, about this woman he had set his heart on.

“Focus,” said Agatha. “Step one. Let’s get somewhere safer and make sure everyone has what they need.”

“Papa’s gonna drag me for a year,” said McDonald, “but there’s a Harga’s nearby.”

Agatha said, “I’ll argue safe and familiar environment for you. You’ve been through enough.”

McDonald offered his hand, which Neosemo declined. Luume may be permanent, but trusting these people was not his first instinct.

“I’m cool with following,” he said. “There’s a meal in it.”

There was a steep learning curve. Starting with an interesting definition of ‘family’ from McDonald. The man had the Seven freaking Birds as immediate relatives, and none of them by blood. ‘Papa’ was the Taako, one of the famous Twins.

‘Home’ was an enormous Mountain Ygdrasi tree, shaped into a mansion. They were rich as fuck and actually worked at helping those with less advantages. Taako had free food depots all over Faerun, and anyone with the slightest lick of magical talent wound up in his school.

McDonald, who was Taako’s first rescue, saw absolutely nothing wrong with buying Neosemo a whole bunch of clothes and things, including some survival shit just in case Neosemo decided to run off on his own. 

Not likely. Kids like him prayed to come across a Luume-addled Elf and get a new home. With the Twins in the picture, some of the others might just get a better start anyway.

McDonald may be biologically compelled to nurture Neosemo, but the rest of the family weren’t. Neosemo only knew what he’d seen from the assorted plays he’d been able to sneak into. That sort of thing wasn’t an accurate or a pretty picture.

Harga’s was good. McDonald and Agatha payed for more than the all-you-can-gobble-for-an-hour special. They let Neosemo choose his own clothes, and state his levels of comfort.

It was shocking that McDonald knew what it was like from the adoptee side of things. He told the story of Faerun’s shittiest orphanage, his own rescue, and Taako’s experience with the shittiest corners of life.

It was so hard to believe that they’d been where he lived. That they knew all about fucked-up normals. That they were ready to fight anything that might drag him down. They had strategies.

Neosemo had a new bed. He wore pyjamas after his first family dinner. He knew that people were nearby to protect him.

He could get used to this.

Ango didn’t have very many tells, but by now, Taako knew them all. The stiffly formal posture, the subtle air of trepidation, and, of course, the word ‘sir’ when referring to himself, Krav, or any other male in the immediate vicinity.

Angus was roughed up, and unfamiliar with his surroundings. “…did I do something bad, sir?” he squeaked. His voice was barely a whisper.

“Aw beans, I’m sorry kiddo. You’re gonna be okay.” Breathe. Focus. Tell the truth and don’t pull any goofs. He had to be careful with his goofs with his kid at this stage of things. “This is my fault. I zigged when I should’a zagged. You just stay put…” he got his first aid kit out of his pack. “I’m gonna ask you a few questions, and some of ‘em might seem silly but I need ya to be honest as you can, okay? I got stuff here to patch you up… can I do that?”

Angus nodded.

“To make it fair, you can ask me questions, too.” Taako cleared his throat. “What’s the last thing you remember before wakin’ up on the floor here?”

“…they gave me my birthday cupcake in the cafeteria, sir…”

“Really? Happy birthday. How old are you?”

“…three years old, today, sir… may i ask? …who are you?”

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch. Taako almost won the fight to keep the wince off his face. “This is gonna be a little bit difficult to take in, kiddo. Uhm. You’re five now. And… Krav -my husband- and I… we… we adopted you.”

Blam. Blank face. Not betraying anything and shutting down completely. Instant disbelief.

Taako struggled to keep a pleasant and calm demeanour. This was just like the early days, when he had to build trust. This made him want to puke. “This is an antiseptic salve, it won’t sting. Can I put it on your scrapes?”

Gods, he could grow to hate that blank-faced nod. Taako focussed intensely on getting all the scrapes and a small aura around them for the unbroken skin that could still sting.

Taako gained permission to add bandages. He had Caleb Cleveland brand bandages of healing in his kit, something that earned a flicker of surprise from Angus. “It looks like you got hit with a memory spell, sweetheart.” Oops, that was the wrong word to say. “I promise I will never hurt you, okay? There’s an inn near here. Big public space, relatively quiet. Want to go there?”

He hardly moved, but that was a nod.

Taako wracked his brains for all the old solutions that had helped in the early days when Ango was afraid of everything. He dug around in his pack and found what he was looking for. The trust rope. A brightly-coloured, short length of rope, turned into loops at both ends. “I gotta keep you close ‘cause I’m supposed to look after ya, right? So… I trust you to hang on to one end of this, and you trust me to…” his voice cracked, briefly. “You trust me to lead you safely where ya wanna go…”

*

The inn was good. Clean and happy, and full of people but not full enough to be too loud for Angus’ liking. There were nice people here. He sat properly and enjoyed the stew that Mr Taako had purchased.

Mr Taako was very upset. Stressed and close to tears. Worried and scared. He’d ordered the stew and a small beer for Angus, but nothing for himself. He was calling people on his Stone of Farspeech. 

Angus listened to the names. Kravitz. Lucretia. Merle. None of these names seemed familiar to him, unless he counted the Story and Song from the weird light. Mr Taako was from that story, but he didn’t seem like the callous hero he had become during that hundred-year journey. Mr Taako trembled and fought off tears. Something bad had to have happened to someone he cared about.

Because of the spell, Angus didn’t count himself in that group.

He sat politely, quietly, like a good boy. Listening to the inn’s bard. Watching as people arrived to look at him. An old male Dwarf with flowers in his beard and a living branch for one arm and a missing eye with an owl on the eyepatch. He spoke gruffly and was kind’a frightening. Angus had to roll a will save to stay exactly where he was. An older human woman who almost dripped gravitas as she sat with Mr Taako and spoke in a quiet voice.

A man in mostly black arrived and Mr Taako launched himself into the other man’s arms, and buried his face into the black-clad man’s shoulder. The gold band shining from this new stranger’s ebony fingers could indicate that this was the husband ‘Kravitz’ whom Mr Taako had spoken of. He confirmed it by kissing Mr Taako’s brow and murmuring, “It’s going to be all right, love. We’ll solve this. Jus’ breathe, darling.”

The older human woman was casting diagnostic spells, weaving patterns of light around Angus’ head. “The good news is, young Mr McDonald will recover in time.”

Mr Taako didn’t move from Mr Kravitz’s arms. “Gimmie the bad news, Luce.”

A deep breath. A long sigh. “He’s going to need familiarity in order to remember. An environment that he remembers, food… people…”

Now Mr Taako moved. Turning away from Mr Kravitz with tears in his eyes and a snarl on his face. “Find. Another. Way. Like fuck am I sending him back into that hell hole.”

That was some real strong emotion. Angus could believe that Mr Taako had seen the orphanage and really didn’t like it. Angus could begin to believe that he could trust Mr Taako.

The older human woman said, “I’ll get the Bureau of Benevolence onto that dark magic cult your son had found. Mr McDonald? May I have your notebook? The clues you have in there would be a great advantage to us.”

Angus stared at her blankly.

“In your satchel, pumpkin. The… the one with the blue cover and the triangles like this,” Mr Taako showed a silver bracer on his left arm that featured four equilateral triangles making a diamond in the middle.

Angus had a satchel, and hadn’t dared to look in it in case it belonged to someone else. He gingerly opened it and found his own name in the inside flap. There was also a starter wand, a copy of a Caleb Cleveland book he never knew existed, a spare sweater, a mini umbrella… and the aforementioned notebook. Which also had his name on it. It had his writing in it, too. Names, addresses, leads and clues. Just like Caleb Cleveland would do.

Nobody was snatching it off him. Nobody was yelling at him to have it. Ms Lucretia was waiting patiently with one hand open, ready to receive it.

Angus passed it over. He summoned the courage to say, “…i hope you find them, ma’am…”

“We will,” said Ms Lucretia. “When we do, we will kick all their asses on your behalf.”

*

The house was a gigantic tree. Elven architecture, which meant that there were no flat walls, no completely level floors, and lots of winding passages between places. There were also a lot of cats who greeted him like an old friend.

“We’re… staying on the ground floor again,” said Mr Taako. “This old house is just like the one my grandfather used to have. Like. Exactly like the one my grandfather… eh, it’s complicated. Long story short, I inherited it via a technicality.” Mr Taako moved into the kitchen like it wanted him in there. It was a huge space, kept warm by the giant Aga stove. Twenty people could have been cooking in there at once and not one of them would bump elbows with another. He got together a bunch of ingredients on a counter and bowls and tools with them. “This is your home, Ango. And I’m cooking up one of your favourites. You can help if you wanna, I–” he sighed. “It’s okay if you don’t wanna.”

Mr Kravitz was looking at Mr Taako like his heart was breaking. “Dove… are you sure? I remember how much this wrecked you the first time…”

“Our boy is worth getting wrecked over,” said Mr Taako. “Again and again and again. I’ll get wrecked until I’m pulp, babe. Look at him and tell me he’s not worth it.”

Mr Kravitz looked at Angus, and did not tell Mr Taako that Angus wasn’t worth it. He said, “So let’s get this show on the road, Dove. I’ll be your happy helper.”

Mr Kravitz did funny voices that made Angus want to giggle in spite of himself. A cat came to sit on Angus’ lap and it demanded pets. Her name was Neopolitan and she was soft and fluffy and so very friendly. She purred really loud and helped Angus feel safe.

It was the smell of baking that brought a sensation of deja vu to Angus. This kitchen wasn’t too big. It was just right. And Taako was trying so hard to be brave about this whole mess. Angus remembered how to pet Neopolitan just so so that she would stretch out on his lap and keep his knees warm and stick her tongue out and drool a little. He’d always thought that was funny.

The taste of Taako’s ginger bread with butter and lashings of honey and cream brought back a vision of Candlenights, after all the presents had been opened. Watching some garbage on the fantasy television. Snuggled up under a big fluffy blanket between Papa and Dad, surrounded by purring and sleepy cats.

“Egg nog,” said Angus, and the memory was gone again.

Papa was pleased all the same. “That’s right, little man. This bread goes fucking fantastic with egg nog. Want me to whip you up some?”

In a snap, he was afraid again. Unfamiliar again. He could almost remember… but it was just out of reach. “…water, please, sir…”

Mr Taako and Mr Kravitz looked… stricken.

“It’s okay to want things,” said Mr Kravitz. “We have lots. We don’t mind.”

Mr Taako said, “I know how you like it… and how to make it so you don’t get troubles.”

Of course he did. Of course he did. They were family now. Family. There had been a huge party and the smallest dog ever and… And he didn’t know where he was. He didn’t know who these people were. He didn’t know why there was a cat on him or how he’d got this slice of… something that smelled like home. Something so familiar and not familiar at the same time and it all made him dizzy…

“Cuddle cote?” said Mr Kravitz.

“Cuddle cote,” decided Mr Taako.

They got permission to move him, and the cat protested softly as she was shifted to a couch. The next thing Angus knew, he was in a huge nest of pillows, blankets and mattresses, with Dad reading his favourite Caleb Cleveland book with his character voices, and Papa was fussing over him and he had a broken purr…

…and he remembered being sick. Really, really sick because their asshole neighbour Susan didn’t believe in vaccinations. But it was almost okay because he got to eat jelly and cream and delicious soups and Papa always made it better with a cooled towel…

…and waking up with nightmares of going back into the urine-soaked, permanently damp, cold, grey orphanage from whence he began. He knew it would be okay because Papa was there. Papa was right there with him and Dad could hold him too and help him feel safe and Papa’s purring would lull him to sleep…

…and the care and artistry that went into Angus’ daily bento boxes. Meat and the special cheese and vegetables and fruit, all arranged into scenes from Caleb Cleveland novels. And a special cupcake tucked away in its own container, with a little note that Papa or Dad had written to be certain he wasn’t lonely at school…

…and a bathtub filled with lemon-scented bubbles. Papa was soaked to the skin and laughing as he tickled Angus with the washcloth. He’d never let Angus fall…

“Papa,” Angus breathed. “Papa… Dad… I’m so sorry I forgot everything…”

His parents lunged, wrapping him up in a hug. Papa’s purr got very loud indeed in that moment, but soon gentled to a soft and soothing parental purr.

“We’re just glad you’re okay, baby,” Papa sighed.

“It’s good to have you back,” said Dad.

It was good to be back. Even with liquid happiness leaking out of his eyes.

Taako was feeling unwell. Brought down by the last vestiges of the moon’s Dire Flu, so Angus McDonald was doing independent study in the Bureau library. In other words, going through whatever magical tome caught his eye and looking for the coolest spells.

He could only do cantrips at the moment, so he was kind-of limited there. Shocking Grasp looked pretty awesome, considering how many bad guys tried to grapple him.

Angus read and re-read the spell. The pronunciation, the hand motions, and the feeling it should induce. He took the borrowed book out to the icosagon where nobody was currently training and tried it out.

Enthusiastically.

The training dummy didn’t give any indication that it was shocked, unfortunately. His hand refused to spark as he did the motions and words.

Then he made the mistake of adjusting his glasses.

Shocking Grasp is a contact spell. Angus temporarily forgot about that.

The next thing he knew, he was staring at the ceiling in the Bureau hospital, next to the only other patient. Taako, you know, from TV. Taako was red-eyed and miserable and sniffly.

Angus was blistered in interesting places. He had been told that he was lucky that he didn’t weld his glasses to his face.

“You look like shit,” Taako croaked.

“Same for you, sir,” rasped Angus.

“The fuck happened to you?”

“Tried learning a cantrip,” he said. “Shocking Grasp.”

“Said th’ word an’ fixed y’r glasses?”

Angus merely blushed.

“This is why you need a tutor,” said Taako. “Goose.”

Agatha had been ill for weeks on end. Angus was scouring every possible cure and remedy that could plausibly work. He was in the library, researching more remedies, as Agatha was off to the family cleric’s. There were a lot of tests for them to run. It was going to take hours.

He’d already run through most of the anti-nausea remedies, and only a few worked. None of them were indicators of specific illnesses. He had it narrowed down to maybe five when Agatha added a sheet to his pile. Right under his nose.

Angus took a moment to re-focus on the hazy image. He thought his glasses had grease on them for a moment, but the blurry image was still a blurry image.

Grey haze, with a black circle in the middle, and on one side of that, a bean-like blob with five odd protrusions. Four small, one leading to the edge of the black void.

Agatha was leaning on the table and smirking like she was proud of herself. “Well?” she said.

Angus did a medicine check and only rolled a five. “This… doesn’t match any of your potential illnesses…”

“That’s ‘cause I’m not sick,” she chirped.

Angus levelled a puzzled look at her. “You’ve been throwing up every morning…”

“Yeah. Morning sickness.”

Once again, Angus was lost. He wasn’t used to this feeling. “That’s… not in any of these books.”

“It’s in this one,” Agatha handed over a kiddies’ primer entitled, How is Babby Formed?

Wait. What? “He– You– We– You mean–?”

“Baby’s baby,” said Agatha. “You’re gonna have to Stone your Dad. He sniffed it out at Candlenights.”

Now everything slotted into place. “Oh shit. He’s gonna claim it’s twins.”

Agatha was watching her pocketwatch, mouthing a countdown under her breath.

Realisation hit Angus like a Balrog. “We made a baby. We’re havin’ a baby. Are you okay? Do you need me to run and fetch anything? Oh shit! Half of the stuff I was trying to give you could’a done some harm. Can they tell if I hurt it?”

“And there’s the freak-out,” Agatha smiled, and kissed him. “Everything’s fine. Relax. Breathe.”

“I’m’unna have to apologise to Taako.”

“Yup. Just… wait until your voice gets back to normal, okay?”

He hadn’t realised it was cracking. “Oohh-kay…” something in his head was dancing the cha-cha and singing about babies.

He was going to be a dad. Whoah.

“Sir?” Angus poked the Elven wizard, who was sprawled on a bench.

“I’m deep in meditation,” he lied.

“You’re hung over,” said Angus. “I just have one question for you, sir. And then I can help you unlock your suite so you can go back to bed.”

Taako’s baleful glare was full of red veins. “Fine. Ask.”

“What happened to Sazed Baker, sir?”

“Who?”

“Your assistant from Sizzle it Up! With Taako, sir.”

Taako moaned, hauling himself up into a roughly seated position. “He left me. Alone. Didn’t tell me where or why. He just left. He took the horse. He took the gold. He just… left. I didn’t look for him, I’m not gonna…” another red-eyed glare, “and you’re not either.”

“But sir…”

“Nope. It’s in the past. It’s done. Four years gone. Don’t even.”

“Sir, I have reason to believe that you were not to blame for the deaths in Glamour Springs.”

“You also have reason to believe in the tooth fairy. Hold up your side of the bargain, little man. Get me into my suite like you said you would.”

Angus did that, and then decided to do some sleuthing on his own.

People escaping the law tended to take different surnames. They kept their given names, and their birthdates. His first stop was the Neverwinter Hall of Records, looking up Sazed Baker, then anyone else who shared a birthdate who came out of nowhere within a few weeks of the final show of Sizzle it Up! With Taako.

Just as Angus predicted. Two weeks after Glamour Springs, there was a trail of Sazeds with the same birthdate. Sazed Vinter. Sazed Merrow. Sazed Raddler. Sazed Tailor. In every town where he took work, he had a different surname. He stuck to small towns, poor towns, and little backwaters where the news was less likely to reach.

He had been going from town to town, job to job, name to name, for four years.

There was a pattern. Sazed never took a name that encapsulated his actual skill. He was headed progressively further away from Glamour Springs. He always travelled via the back roads and, according to the records, Sazed was due to hit a tiny little village called Pig Wallow.

It was faster to catch the cannon there, following a trip via globe to the moon. He could outpace this man.

Angus didn’t believe Sazed to be a villain. He believed him to be a person of interest only.

That was just one mistake.

Another was going to a place like Pig Wallow in his fancy lad clothes.

*

“He did what?”

“Young Mr McDonald has evidently tracked down someone from Taako’s past.” Madam Director. “Whilst I normally approve of his moonlighting as a detective, he’s taken to solving… you, Taako.”

“What?”

There was a copy of a headline on Angus’ wall of madness. Taako knew it well. He didn’t want to read it again.

“Oh gods,” said Magnus. “That’s why you stopped touring?”

Taako was already out of the room. “Let’s just hurry up and fetch the brat.”

Pig Wallow was exactly the kind of place that lived up to its name. Everything here was made out of mud. The crops grew in mud, most of them were used to feed the pigs that gave the little town its name. The people were muddy up to their knees, and bore an inbred suspicion of strangers.

Magnus, the closest to Angus’ natural skin tone, pretended to be Angus’ father, looking for his son who liked to dress up fancy and poke around asking questions.

Nobody had seen anything, of course. They didn’t trust anyone, until Magnus made an impassioned speech about Angus being the only family he had left after his wife died. Only after that did the fingers of suspicion point towards the newcomer. Sazed Carpenter. Who lived on the outskirts and kept to himself and raised pigs like everyone else.

By all reports, he was a fairly good swineherd. The most important part of those reports was that the fancy lad had last been seen heading towards the Carpenter hut.

Magnus rushed in. Taako summoned Garyl. In order to expedite their journey, he cast Levitate on Merle and towed him along like a weirdly ugly balloon.

The best news was that Angus had got Sazed monologuing.

“…first time’s always hard,” Sazed was saying. “Most times, it’s an accident. I intended to just make him sick. I should have thought things through. Stopped criticising his weight. If he’d just tasted his cooking… Nobody else would have had to die.”

Angus’ voice. “How does that connect with the string of missing persons in your trail, sir?”

A chuckle. “Sir. Nobody ever called me ‘sir’ in my entire life. For a smart kid, you’re kind’a stupid. Can’t you piece it together?”

“Given the victim profiles, sir, I can guess that they were chosen for their wealth. One thing eludes me, though. No trace was ever found of their bodies. How did you do that, sir?”

Taako could hear Sazed’s smirk. “Pigs will eat anything, and I’m a very good swineherd.” Taako could almost hear him preening. “They won’t find any trace of you, either. Nosy boy.”

Magnus rushed in, reducing the door to splinters as he did so. Taako, however, took aim and cast a spell full of tentacles and madness.

“Abraca-fuck you!”

Squirming tentacles summoned from a cthuloid void grappled Sazed. Magnus cut the table that Angus was bound to to shreds and Merle hustled the kid out and onto Garyl.

“Glad to see you alive, pint-size,” said Garyl. “You know you did a very stupid thing, right?”

“I did gather,” said Angus.

“Cool. Cool.”

The Reclaimers were back outside in seconds, breaking off from the fight and focussing on getting the hell out of Pig Wallow before the natives decided not to take a shine to these new strangers.

The Pig Wallow people had a very simple approach to strangers.

Angus didn’t say a thing about how tight Taako held him as they galloped away. He didn’t say a word about the wetness leaking from Taako’s mismatched eyes. He never said a thing about the elven wizard’s pounding heartbeat as they escaped a whole village full of peasants with torches.

He didn’t get to say anything about Sazed until they were in the globe and headed back to the moon.

“He admitted to trying to poison you, sir.”

“Fat lot of good it does,” said Taako. “Whole world still thinks it was me.” He wasn’t really looking at anything. “Could still have been me…”

Angus suspected that it wasn’t Taako at all. The problem was… there was no proof. 

[AN: Faerun doesn’t have Halloween, but it does have the midsummer festival with the eclipse and all, so I’m going there]

Taako guessed that there would be trouble when he asked, “Excited for the Summer Faire?” and got the answer, “No.”

He cast his mind back to the shittiest places he had ever survived, and the festivals he had been made to participate in, trying to fit his own horrible memories into the traditions of Faerun. “Bigger kids beat you up? Or were they working to be their scariest?”

“Both,” said Angus. “They always put me right in the middle of the games. Like… almost drowning me during apple bobbing. Or going to knock down the cans and then throwing the balls at me.”

“I get the picture.” Taako sucked on his teeth. “We both know none of those assholes are gonna be around to taunt you, but that’s not the point. Y’know… you could have the scariest costume?”

Angus, having learned Disguise Self, cast it and changed himself into the very image of his Aunt Lup when she was in her lich form. He even did the ghostly whisper. “How’s this…?”

“Well. Gotta tell ya. I ain’t scared ‘cause that’s my sister and you’re adorable. That spell only lasts an hour, though. I could go ahead and enchant an Angus-sized red robe to do that for you. Sound good?”

Angus was still for a long time, thinking about it. He eventually said, “Yes, sir.”

Taako didn’t expect much in the way of words from him. Not yet. “You think I’d look good as Caleb Cleveland?”

A shy smile dawned on his face. “Mr Kravitz is already doing Caleb Cleveland, sir. Perhaps a different hero?”

“Got any favourites?”

*

Caleb Cleveland was waiting, hand-in-hand with a tiny, flaming Lup from TV. “Hurry up, Taako!”

“Just a sec’,” he called from within. He emerged in an outfit so bright and loud that it would screw up any stealth check for life. Bright yellow pants with dark pinstripes. Mismatched patchwork vest. Bright blue polka-dotted tie, and an equally mismatched patchwork coat. Taako had a mop of brown curls in the place of his usual golden cascade. “You got any idea how hard it is to get this wig right?”

Angus was giggling.

“Yeah, laugh it up, little man. I’m never leaving your side the entire day.”

It wasn’t far to the local fair, especially not on the estate’s riding deer. Riding on a deer was up on Angus’ top ten as the most exciting thing to do. It was like flying whilst not fearing the end of a spell.

Everything was bright colours and lights and noise, but this was different to the pathetic fair of the orphanage. There were rides and music and stalls and Angus had two people on his side for a change.

Magnus was waiting for them. Dressed up like Taako, as he had been for the past two Summer Faires. This time, it was the red robe version. Full arcanist uniform and the jacket worn like a cape over the robe.

The faire was full of pint-sized Birds; even a few adults. Many fell to the usual standards of witches, warlocks, undead and famous figures from plays or moving scrolls. There were plenty of obvious store-bought costumes. A few dedicated cosplayers, and nobody was looking at Angus like he was target of the day.

A host of kids all looked his way and said, “Whooooaaahhh…”

One jumped up and down, pointing. “Mama, mama, mama, I wanna look like that, next year! Mama, look!”

The mother, a very tired woman in an ineffective vampire costume, wasn’t looking. She sighed, “That’s nice dear,” and kept looking through the stall she was rummaging through.

“Five seconds and you’re already the belle of the ball,” said Kravitz. “Where first?”

“Food? Fun? Frivolity?”

Angus broke his usual silence. “I wanna corn dog anna toffee apple anna cotton candy and I wanna watch Magnus’ Dog Circus.”

“Way to go, kiddo,” cheered Taako. “It’s not a good Summer Faire until you’re biliously ill.”

“You mean like on the tilt-a-whirl?” said Magnus.

“Puh-leez. Your hairy armpits with my signature look? That’s a constitution saving throw right there.”

Magnus laughed uproariously. “Yeah, you got a point. Hey, Ango, you remember Mitzi?”

Angus nodded.

“I need someone to be her hoop. Want me to call on you for the show?”

He didn’t need to think about that. Being part of a circus? That would make this the best day ever.