Chapter Text
It was a late night for some of the atelier.
Qifrey sat alone at the dining table, half-full bowl of soup in front of him. He had settled on this little routine a long time ago. After the girls—and even Olruggio—retired for the night, he would return to the kitchen. He brewed a pot of his favorite tea, grabbed a second serving of supper, and reflected on the day.
It was one of his many ways of torturing himself.
Now, reflecting on the day and how one can improve is never a bad thing. But—any mistakes he had made, any time he had upset the children, the moments he lost his temper, even only internally—were all scrutinized. Given the mess that was Silver Eve, he had plenty of fodder.
How close he’d brought Coco to danger, how he left her to her own devices for too long, how he let the damned Brimmed Caps so close to her.
How he’d all but abandoned the other girls. How lucky he was that Olruggio could pick up his slack.
How he’d let someone know his secret, and let her keep the memory. And she gave him a secret of her own.
Qifrey wasn’t the only one, now.
Now there was an innocent boy, infected, waiting for the same peaceful end as him. His mind pieced together the story from both what he saw and heard.
The boy, Custas, had lost the use of his legs. Something that would affect anyone greatly, but to a boy whose livelihood had been got by travelling, it hit him much harder. Though he maintained his friendship with Coco and Tartah, and as much as they helped him by crafting new accommodations, he wasn’t satisfied.
He was stubborn, as children are wont to be. He, another outsider, was told how magic worked. Was told the limitations that were decided centuries ago. He grew resentful. When given the opportunity to restore the function of his legs, he took it immediately.
Desperation turns men to monsters.
But he very well can’t blame the child, now can he? The poor thing had no idea the effects that the Silverwood graft would have on him.
A thought flashed in Qifrey’s mind. Maybe he could just… cut his legs off entirely? Would the rhizomes be deep enough to regrow the tree? No. That was cruel, no matter how desperate he was for a solution.
Qifrey remembered when he was much younger, how he wished that he could simply scoop his socket clean and be done with it. How he wished they had implanted it in a limb, so he could cut it off. Like a trapped fox chewing off its own leg.
But they didn’t, and he couldn’t.
In his many years attempting to find the answer, he had also considered animal experimentation. If he could find an animal that was infected but had not yet succumbed to the parasite, he could try different methods of removal. He could never bring himself to do it.
The creatures were already doomed, but he couldn’t muster himself to cause them any more harm. He wished that they could die in peace, with warm, full bellies.
It’s what the innocent deserve.
It’s not what he deserves.
Sometimes, on his darkest nights, he thinks he may simply let the tree take him the next time it appears. There is no repayment or forgiveness for what he has done. Even if his dear Olruggio forgives him—which he does, every time—he cannot forgive himself.
He is a selfish, selfish man. It would be so blissfully simple to let himself go, but he can’t.
He clings to his life, his life, as tightly as the roots will allow.
As his thoughts continue to race, Qifrey feels a tear streak down to his chin. Well, that’s a relief. At least that eye continues to function.
His attention shoots upwards at the sound of a sniffle.
Coco stood in the doorway, hands clasped tightly in front of her chest. Her head was bowed slightly as she tried to blink the tears from her eyes.
How had he not noticed her?
“Coco.” What else was there to say?
She stepped forward, hesitantly, and he nodded. She shuffled to the dining table, sitting down across from him.
“Are you alright?” Qifrey asked.
Coco huffed. “I could ask you the same thing. You were glaring at the table like it owed you money.”
“I was, wasn’t I?” They sat, not quite looking at each other. “Well, since we both can’t sleep, I’ll make us some tea.”
“No.” Coco closed her eyes. “Thank you, but no. That won’t help me.”
“And what will..?”
“A conversation.”
“What would you like to talk about?” Goodness, it was like pulling teeth with her, lately. Given everything, he’s only surprised that it took this long for her opinion of him to sour.
Coco just stared at him.
“It has to do with the Silverwood, I take it?”
“Yes,” Coco nodded, clasped hands resting on the table in front of her. “And one other thing, too.”
“Alright. I will warn you that I may have to stop the conversation at any time. You understand?” Qifrey tugged with a loose thread on the end of his sleeve. Frankly, with how nervous I am about telling her the whole truth, I might be able to get through this whole conversation.
“I have a few questions. You don’t have to tell me the whole story if you don’t want to.” Coco played with the neckline of her shift, rolling the fabric in thought.
“Alright. Go ahead.”
“What’s the real reason you took me in?” Coco had a rather serious expression on her face.
“I’ve already told you the truth. You were an innocent victim of forbidden magic, and I felt responsible. I have never regretted the decision to take you in, but…” he sighed. “If I had known of the events that would unfold that day, I would have put off my shopping for later.”
“And you weren’t in the area for any specific reason?”
Ah, she’s still suspicious. “You don’t trust me, and I cannot blame you for that. But I can assure you, my visiting your home that day was sheer coincidence. My usual tailor had no availability, and your mother’s shop was the next closest place.”
“Oh. That does make sense, considering how close the atelier is to home. And… everything that happened that day is technically my fault.” Coco waved away Qifrey’s sputter. Her voice gradually rose. “I’m right. You don’t have to lie to make me feel better. If I hadn’t been so curious, we wouldn’t be here right now.”
“As the adult in the situation, not to mention the witch, it was my responsibility to uphold the Pact and prevent outsiders from seeing magic. I failed. If only I had paid more attention…” he trailed off.
“If, if, if!” Coco burst out. “We can sit here all day and ask what could have happened if I wasn’t such a little brat back then.” She punctuated her sentence with a palm slapping against the table.
Qifrey grabbed her hand from the table and fixed her with a cold glare. “What we will not do is ridicule your past self. You were, and still remain, a child. You had no possible way of knowing what could happen.”
Coco held his gaze for a few tense seconds, then deflated. “Sorry. I still get worked up thinking about that day.”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Coco.”
“Still. I’m sorry, Master.” She squeezed his hand.
“Then I must apologize as well.” He leaned forward, tilting his forehead down toward her hand. “And I promise that I will assist you in freeing your mother. I did not intend it to be so, but finding a cure for her may help many other victims, direct or indirect, of the Brimmed Caps.”
He held the pose until he heard a sniffle. He let her retract her hand to wipe her eyes before tears could gather again. It might be best to change the subject.
“Do you still have questions to ask about my… condition?”
“Yes.” Coco took a few moments to gather her thoughts. She leaned forward, propping her chin in her hand. “You said that the only way to cure someone was to remove their memories completely. How did you find that out?”
Qifrey sighed. “I’ve visited the Tower of Tomes twice. Once as a child, and once a few years ago. The first time, I learned that…” He paused. “To put it simply, that there was no hope for me. Through a series of events, I discovered a variation of the memory spell that we know. This version of the spell allows for very specific memories to be erased, while leaving the rest of the mind intact.” He closed his eye, feeling his chest expand as he took a deep breath.
He counted his exhale. Four, three, two, one.
“The second time that I visited the Tower was when I discovered the spell you saw in my sketchbook.” The way the Tower works, it records any and all spells that have been written. Thus, that spell was created, and likely already used on someone, in order for it to be there. He mourns the poor souls that were changed irrevocably in order for him to see that blotch of ink.
Coco tapped her cheek in thought. “So, you know two other versions of the memory spell? Have you studied any other versions? Or saw about using it in nested inside another spell? Do they even have books about it that you could study?”
He squeezed the bridge of his nose. “No. I can’t encourage playing around with magic that is legal only by technicalities. And, master magician I may be, I do not have the confidence to test such magic, even if there were previous studies on it.”
“But you trusted the spells enough to offer to Custas?”
“As they were, yes.” Qifrey winced. “It is rather horrible to say, but if a full memory removal had to happen at any point in one’s life, it would best happen during childhood. You simply don’t have as many memories to lose, and it would be easier to relearn how to live. You have another fifty years to make new memories.” Coco is silent.
Though I was already a victim of a near total memory removal, something had to be lacking in order for me to remain a vessel. My mind was not fully erased. Even if they did have access to the more powerful spell, they didn’t care to use it. “Perhaps if I, or my guardians, had known of this spell when I was still a child, we would not be having this conversation.”
“And now that you’re an adult, you wouldn’t make the choice to erase everything?”
“You are correct. Only if I were well and truly at death’s door would I consider it. As I’ve said before, your memories make you who you are. Without them, you are as good as dead.” It had taken him many years, but he had since come to terms with the fact that his past simply didn’t exist. His early childhood may well have never happened at all.
He has no memory of his parents, but someone had to rear him. He lets himself wonder if he was loved at all, or born only to be a vessel. A mad witch, or pair of them, bringing a child into the world only to test the limits of the human body. What use would it be to properly remember them?
He doesn’t like thinking of this. He likes to imagine that the world can still be kind.
Qifrey realizes he’s been quiet for some time when Coco clears her throat.
“You can’t do that to people.”
“Pardon?”
“You can’t offer them a ‘cure’ knowing very well that you wouldn’t take it yourself.”
Qifrey chuckles. “You’re not wrong, Coco. But I feel I must still give them that knowledge, so they know that there is a choice they can make.”
Something occurred to her. She swallows, her mouth suddenly dry. “It’s not just you and Custas.”
Oh dear. She had certainly neglected to tell him this! “How many others?”
“Just one. So far. That I know of.” Coco shifted in her chair. “It was one of the Brimmed Caps. She had it replacing her hands. You mentioned that you couldn’t get too close to Custas without your own tree being affected?” At Qifrey’s nod, she continues, “she was able to fully control her hands despite that. I guess that means they did a better job on her than what they did to you and Custas?”
“Hmm. Is there anything else you can think of?”
“She was young, she looked around my age? Maybe a little older? Some other Brimmed Caps showed up when she left, but I don’t know how many others have done this modification.”
“That timeline does make sense. If I was among the first experiments, they would have had nearly twenty years to refine the technique.” He rubbed his chin in thought. “We don’t know how many people have been affected before they were confident enough to try the graft on themselves. I never assumed that there were others. I thought this kind of cruelty could only happen once.”
“So, if I figure this out…” Coco whispered
They stare at each other across the table. He knows what Coco is thinking. She knows that he knows what she’s thinking. Qifrey knows that he must put this out of mind as quickly as possible, lest he begin to sprout. Perhaps he will drink tonight, after all.
Or, a reminder of his guilt could work.
“...I must ask that you do not mention any of this to Olruggio. I have gone to great lengths over the years to ensure he doesn’t worry about me.”
“He doesn’t know?” Coco cried.
“Keep your voice down. No, he does not. And I intend to keep it that way.”
“But you two are so close. He can’t know nothing!”
“You… are correct. He is aware that I have no memory of my past. He is aware that I was a victim of torture by the Brimmed Caps. He is aware that I have lost my right eye, but he does not know the full truth about the sprout. He just knows to anticipate that eventually, I will become blind.”
Coco looks like she’s about to cry. “But, if you’re blind, you can’t…” She wipes her eyes roughly, a spark of determination lighting her face.
This newfound confidence was certainly something. Never mind the years he’s spent searching, it may well be Coco that cures him. Pride wells in his chest at the thought.
Crack.
“I’m afraid our time is up. Good night, Coco.” Qifrey all but leaps from his chair. He shuffles down the hallway, scratching his knuckles at an uncomfortable pace. Once he’s sure that the top layer of skin is gone, he pauses, waiting for the sting that he knows will set in soon.
He’s safe for the night, at least. He knows the wounds won’t last until morning.
—
Coco remains seated, staring at the soup Qifrey left on the table.
This is gonna be hard to do alone, but If I manage it… I could save so many people! Provided I don’t get caught, heh.
She felt confident enough in hiding this from Master Olruggio, given that he was “not their teacher” and “wanted nothing to do with teaching them,” in his words. She worried more about Agott, given their proximity. She also didn’t think that Agott would spill her secret to anyone without at least talking with her first.
So, she had nothing to worry about besides figuring out the spell itself!