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They do not talk about the clone buried in the garden. Essek buried the materials and cast the spell when Caleb was out on a particularly dangerous venture with Beau. He did not do much to conceal what he had done, only shifted the picnic table over the disturbed ground. Caleb raised an eyebrow when he returned. They were not so rich that he had not noticed a certain sum of diamonds missing; he could guess what had occurred.
They are wizards, and so they are the type of people who have contingency plan after contingency plan. They are not normally the type of people who avoid hard conversations. This particular conversation is the sole exception. And so, the fully-grown clone of Caleb that lies in stasis in a box (not a coffin, Essek refuses to call it that) under the picnic table goes unremarked upon. Equally undiscussed remain the loose sheets of paper bundled in Caleb’s spell book that contain the spell for True Resurrection.
They have grown too talented at piecing each other back together to fear their brokenness, but something about the finality of death leads them to glance off the topic. Caleb had brought it up once, of course. He handed Essek a detailed document and explained that it was his will, but Essek should feel free to make his own edits. It was no infernal contract, but Essek took it delicately, cautiously, as though it might burn him. He’d studied it for a moment, long enough to feel the panic swell, but not so long as to actually read the thing. He wasn’t even sure what he said, but somehow they ended up hours-deep in a vigorous debate around the porous boundaries between magic schools — was Clone still necromancy if it was cast with Wish, a conjuration spell?
Caleb said it was, that the conjuration was transitory if used to cast a known spell based in necromancy. Essek thought not. He was not sure if his opinion was based more on logic or on wishful thinking, and that terrified him almost as much as the discussion itself.
They could not agree by dinnertime and Beau and Yasha were not the most enthusiastic of conversationalists on such topics, so they left the subject inconclusive. Caleb’s will stayed pinched in Essek’s own spellbook, the most horrifying spell he had.
Essek thinks, by comparison, he has handled the eventuality of his own demise with much more grace. He only really cares what happens to his spellbook, and the chances that he might precede Caleb in death and get a choice about what happens to it seem slim. So, as he explained to Caleb, his wishes are mostly irrelevant. Everything he owns should go to Caleb, who can dispense with it as he wishes. The Dynasty does not return the bodies of its traitors to their husbands, even in the case of former heroes such as Caleb Widogast, so he should not expect a body to bury or resurrect, nor should the Nein pursue him if he is taken. Essek could have, perhaps, been a bit more delicate about the last part. There had been a near miss a few weeks ago that left him moderately bloodied on a visit to Uthodorn. The smear of blood on the floor where he landed when he teleported home was gone, but he caught Caleb looking at the spot sometimes. A carpet had been ordered.
Caduceus is of little help too. Every visit to the Grove, Caleb makes some remark about how peaceful it looks, how lovely. Caduceus points out the spot Caleb has selected and jovially notes that by the time Caleb dies, it will be nicely shaded as the tree nearby fills out. Essek usually leaves for those discussions. He wanders among the other stones and tries not to imagine himself here in sixty years. It will look almost the same. It will be beautiful. He hates it.
One visit, Caduceus offered Essek his choice of the remaining spots. Essek just managed to not drop his teacup before spitting out: “Wherever Caleb wants…or is…” He changed the topic after that.
Sometimes Essek wonders if they only keep saving the world so they will not have to watch the time pass. The world is a big thing, and easier to cling to than a moment.
Essek grows to hate visiting the Grove almost as much as he enjoys it. It’s quiet, it’s beautiful, it’s frequently full of his friends. It changes a little with the seasons, but somehow that offends him even more, because the seasons mean time. He walks with Caduceus among the graves and Caduceus does not offer him one.
He asks the question he hides from himself, in the garden, in his spellbook, in his heart when he is awake after trancing and Caleb is still asleep: “What happens when I’m the only one left?”
Caduceus smiles and peers down at a flower. “You’ll be sad for a bit. And then you’ll grow.”