Chapter Text
Agott was the one who asked, because she'd never tolerated a head in the clouds. "Do you know him?"
Olruggio had to remind himself of where he was - hovering dumbly outside the bakery Tetia had waxed poetic about the whole afternoon, the witches of Kalhn parting around him like stream-water splitting past a jutting crag.
After several excessive descriptions of the misery she was sure to endure if she didn't get to try their honey-glazed rolls, he'd wrapped up his business early to treat the girls. They'd been just at the shop's threshold when Olruggio caught something pale and delicate flit by - perhaps a scrap of newsprint or wayward kerchief.
Neither of those things would have made him stall in the street, not quite like Qifrey did. He stood opposite of the teeming crowd, addressing his apprentices (Plural? Olruggio thought idly, because he'd only ever known Qifrey to have one apprentice. The green-haired bairn was new).
He was eye-level with the shortest of them, speaking quietly. His cap's sinuous tassel curled like a scrawl of ink suspended in the air.
Olruggio knew him in the way one grew to recognize landmarks: the hall with the schools of shimmering parasol fish coalescing by the window, the statue of one of the original wise by the central library, the door with twenty brass knockers, Qifrey, the twisting turrets of the healing spire, and so on and so forth.
Still, the young witch made himself scarce, and you couldn't very well befriend a phantom - not that Olruggio hadn't exhausted every effort to that aim when they were boys.
He wondered if the stirring in his chest was just that, internalized disappointment at an opportunity gone to ashes. But he could find no way to verbalize that to Agott, especially when something near infinitesimal shouldn't have even weighed on him at all. Even this momentary guilt was outlandish - it had been years, they were both grown adults, and there was nothing to miss. There was no reasonable way to mourn for something that had no shape.
Mourn, he thought, swallowing a snort. Stars, you sound moony.
The truth was as simple as he made it. "No," he told her, turning to face his apprentice. "We've never even met."
It had taken Agott three tries - three agonizing chances - before Olruggio agreed to let her take the second test.
Olruggio had never intended on apprentices. Among the earliest to graduate within his age bracket, he'd determined, with all the surety of someone on the cusp of adulthood, that he had enough control over all the variables in his life to make a plan for the next decade.
He was already concerned for his future - after all, he was seventeen and hadn't had his breakout contraption yet, the invention that would cement his career and offer him a steady selection of clients. He had to start contributing soon or all the support he'd been given - the faith that had been funneled into him as a child, like a seed plunged into the hard-packed soil of his ribs - would be meaningless.
Book smarts never absolved anyone of being a fool. He'd planned to present this would-be contraption when he was eighteen, but a year passed and none of his drafts were worthwhile enough to develop further. Minor commissions kept his work in people's minds and ears, but they were frivolous trinkets requested by nobles who wished to accessorize themselves in magic: jewelry that glowed like mother-of-pearl in the right lighting; veils that shifted from shimmery translucent to opaque; thrones that chilled the air of anyone who came to kneel and vases of ever-pouring spirits.
Every effort it had taken to nurture his talent couldn't culminate in this, but year after year passed in a similar fashion.
Then, without warning, Tetia fell into his life: curled up in the snow, her pink hair matted and dull, dressed like a doll and left to crack in the winter cold.
So he had his first apprentice. Soon after, there was a knock on his door in the hall, and he was met with the besmirched youth of the Arklaum line. Unlike Tetia, who he'd found buried in the snow, Agott looked like she'd just clawed her way out of it. He couldn't deny either of them.
He still found it difficult to deny either of them (the honeyed buns had become a staple in their Kalhn apartments) but Agott's flaws had exposed themselves after a mere days in his care. She was too hasty, always leaping to the next milestone without thinking of where her feet might land.
He understood that desperation himself, but he'd be an even greater fool to feed it knowing firsthand how pressure could make a child think they had to shoot up overnight - she might grow up and think she had to change the world at seventeen or prove her dissenters right.
The Agott who he'd permitted to take the second test now acquiesced to Tetia's sidetracked strolls of Kalhn, where she might have once demanded they return home to their lessons. She was the first to offer to tag along when he went out for basic fieldwork, instead of claiming that it was pointless for her studies.
She still sighed when Olruggio announced they were "going out on the town" and preferred to tarry by her books, and there was a part of him that insisted she still wasn't ready, that she hadn't shown nearly enough interest in daily-use spells, that she was running too fast and this might be the final push to send her sprawling.
But how she'd smiled when he finally agreed - her lips, usually pressed into a stalwart line, split apart like gooey caramels. He'd felt something kick in his chest at the sight of it, a ridiculous urge to let her bound into any bottomless ocean she liked so long as she smiled just like that.
The residual delight still shone on her face as they strode up the grassy tor where the second test would take place. She besieged the cliff in long, confident strides, the wind tearing through her dark curls. Tetia slogged along at a much slower pace, grumbling about Agott's unreasonable amount of energy.
"I slept so soundly last night," Agott grumbled, clenching her fist. "I was supposed to practice right up until the last minute."
She pivoted on her heels, pinning an accusatory gaze on her master. "This is all your fault."
"Guilty as charged," he drawled. When Tetia first became his ward, he'd noticed how she curled into herself to hide her trembling limbs. In her dreams she was still beneath the snow, and nights of fitful sleep left her wrists shaking when she tried to practice drawing.
So he devised the snugstone - a small contraption that could be slipped under your pillow or tucked against your torso to guarantee warmth. He hadn't intended it for sale, but it had worked so well with Tetia - and now Agott - that he wondered if he should polish it up and present it to the committee.
Thoughts of contraptions came to a halt when they arrived at the stone lip of the Serpentback Cave. A sizeable group had gathered there - the proctor Alaira, dressed in a borrowshade cloak, a master-apprentice duo Olruggio didn't recognize, and a familiar set of teal cloaked girls. That thin, black tassel curled around them like pipe smoke.
"Olruggio!" Alaira called, grasping his arm in greeting. He responded a second too late, aware that something in him had sputtered to a stop but unsure of what. "You're a tad late, friend. What held you up?"
"Window-way was broken. We had to make our way here on foot after gettin' off the carriage. Terrain's no picnic," he said curtly, returning her smile.
Stars, he'd missed her. Departing from the Hall meant cutting their bi-weekly meetings short, and though they kept in touch, it wasn't the same as languishing in her rooms, sharing sips and droll anecdotes until they were either laughing too hard to drink or Olruggio passed out.
No one knew how to tell a story quite like she did - even now she managed to retain some flair while outlining the parameters of the test. As she dispensed an additional two cloaks to his apprentices, he noticed someone else watching her fondly.
It shouldn't have come as a surprise; Qifrey and Alaira were friends. Alaira had never said a word about him that wasn't some vague compliment, and she'd previously alluded to drinking with him as well, though Qifrey left no imprint of himself in her rooms the way Olruggio did.
He wondered briefly what he was like when he was tipsy, and found it impossible to picture, given how little he knew of the man when he was sober. Would he be surreptitious or lackadaisical? Red-faced or pleasantly pink?
He clenched his jaw to dispel the vision. It wasn't even a particularly seductive image he'd been trying to piece together, either - what was more absurd was his curiosity about something so mundane, about someone who he hadn't yet exchanged words with that surpassed "oh" and "excuse me."
Get a grip, Olruggio.
He tried to wrangle his attention on something more important - Agott stood by the entrance, examining the serpent's stone maw with a concerning amount of interest.
One of Qifrey's apprentices - Richeh, as she'd referred to herself - reluctantly joined her. The last apprentice, a timid boy who curled in on himself like a soaked teabag, was staring at the only sign his master had ever been present: a discarded cloak, tossed haphazardly on the grass.
Alaira blinked furiously. "I don't believe it," she mumbled, aghast. "He really left!"
On their right, Qifrey crouched down to address the boy. Always doin' that, Olruggio noted. Keeping himself at eye-level so as to not overwhelm them. It was a good habit, one he ought to have implemented, especially since he tended to appear more imposing to young children.
"You know, Euini," Qifrey said, "As an apprentice, choice of your master is up to you. If you feel like changing ateliers, it's your right to do so."
Euini fidgeted with his hair. "G-going somewhere else won't change the fact that I always mess up. And I'm sure…If I pass this test, my master's opinion of me will change. I think. Probably."
He went off on a stammering tangent about being accepted as a star pupil upon his successful return, and Olruggio eyed the pile of cloak in the corner with greater disdain.
Qifrey whirled around. "Alaira! Shouldn't we intervene?"
She crossed her arms, frowning. "I'll make a report to the Great Hall, of course, but ultimately it's up to the apprentice to decide under whom to study."
A troublesome caveat when it concerns an apprentice desperate to prove themselves, Olruggio thought. He was about to say something - nudge the young boy to reconsider his options - when Alaira declared the test officially begun, gathered up the group, and led them into the cave.
Olruggio searched for Agott, but her gaze was pinned straight into the swelling darkness, and she didn't look back once as they advanced.
"They really went in there…" Tetia mumbled in awe, clutching her cloak. He dropped a hand to her head, lightly stroking her scalp. Without the clucking of the myrphons, the only sounds were the susurration of windswept robes and the relentless waves.
An unfamiliar voice chimed in behind them - Qifrey's other apprentice, a girl around Tetia's age, hair green as summer foliage and cropped at her chin.
"Hi!" She traversed the rocky incline clumsily. Her master followed closely behind, almost reluctant to approach.
"I'm Coco. What's your name?"
"Tetia!" Her pigtails bounced as she met Coco in the middle. It was like staring into a mirror. "You aren't taking the test either?"
"I'm not ready for it yet," she admitted, biting her lip. The dejection faded quick as it appeared, buried beneath the excitement of meeting another young witch. "You should join us! We were just about to eat."
Olruggio didn’t have time to register Qifrey’s wince before the man swept in front of him. The distinction in apparel between master and apprentice became much more ostensible once they stood closer together. His robes were a thick, cloudy color, moving with the diaphanous fluidity of water sluicing around his torso.
"Coco, we musn't disturb them." His hands were clasped together in a gesture of peace, all very it’s a shame. “I'm sure they've made plans of their own."
Olruggio had spent enough time around nobles to recognize this as a polite dismissal. Coco, not taking any subtle messaging into account, peered over at Tetia to obtain additional input. "Have you?"
"Nope!"
Coco nodded. "I think," she said, and suddenly her tone was just as level as his, "It'd be poor manners if we didn't invite them. Right, Master Qifrey?"
Qifrey's body stiffened, but like much of the man himself, the motion was painfully laconic. Immediately his posture relaxed, hands coming to cross demurely on the billowing cusp of his dress. "Right you are, Coco."
"We wouldn't want to impose," Olruggio croaked. Stars. Had his voice cracked like that since he was seventeen?
"Nonsense." Qifrey's voice rang harmonious, an instrument's strings plucking without a single flailing infliction. "Would you care to accompany us for a late breakfast, Sir...?"
"Olruggio."
"Olruggio," he repeated. He dragged out the syllables, tasting each phoneme. "Forgive me, but it sounds familiar."
"Ah, well," Olruggio managed, scratching his neck, "the full epiphet is Of the Torch. For my hometown, Ghodrey."
"Olruggio of the Torch." Qifrey smiled. It was a household name by now, but he said it with renewed luster. "A pleasure to meet you. This is my apprentice, Coco. And you-" leaning down again "-must be Tetia."
"Nice to meet you!" she said cheerfully, flashing two fingers.
By some manner of magic, Olruggio found himself spread on a picnic blanket with the girls as Qifrey speared fish over an open pyreball flame. And apparently an additional two decades of experience hadn't done anything to make him less of a fool, because it was only much later that he realized Qifrey had never made an attempt to introduce himself.