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“This is a good start,” said Master Coco, smiling gently, even as she wrang the water from her sleeves. “Keep at it. You’re nearly there. The line was just a little wobbly here, see? You extended it too far. That amplifies the power of the spell, moving the trajectory slightly to the right. And the rest, well…”
She gestured to the rest of the class, scrubbing at their faces and sleeves. The spray had reached the far corners of the room, where even the most shy student had caught a splash in the face, and was presently staring tragically down at her soaked quire.
“But look at it this way,” said Coco, clapping her hands together. “Now I get to show you how to dry off!”
And then she drew the circle to return all the spilled water into the now empty basin. That lesson was most exciting. Many of these students were children from the local fisherman’s hamlet. They had strong hands, steady hands, but sometimes they used a bit too much pressure with the pen, but they were eager to learn ways to solve the various problems of being soaked on a dock before dawn. Coco was eager to give the village a few more witches to care for the town by the time the next storm season set in. So the atelier had happily welcomed the new applicants, even as the Knights Moralis gnashed their teeth about it.
They had no authority to stop her. The Wise themselves had granted her the right to pick promising outsiders for her great project. And pick them, she did. She allowed the knights to check in on her once a month and submitted all reports thoroughly and on time, with no discrepancies. Unless they were running rampant and spreading chaos across the country-side with unchecked forbidden magic, they had no cause for complaint. She was aggressively in compliance with all their demands.
They just thought she’d do it one at a time.
So occupied as she was by her new young ones, Coco missed the first knock on the door. She certainly didn’t miss the second, when Aggott kicked it open with a scowl. She’d been down in her personal archive, copying texts, and Coco hadn’t expected to see her for another few hours at least.
“Oh, Agott,” said Coco. “Are you joining us for a lesson?”
“I am not joining anyone for anything,” said Agott, she took the letter and planted it smack in the center of Coco’s forehead. The students ducked behind their desk. They were all very impressed by Agott, with her formidable reputation and more formidable spells, but they were all still very much terrified of her. “You left your post box closed again. Mine spat out this letter five times. The last flew out hard enough to hit my inkwell. Answer it, already.”
“Answer–” Coco’s eyes quickly tracked along the text, then her expression brightened. “Oh, it’s from Master Olruggio. It’s–”
Another pause as she tracked it, seemingly oblivious to the fact Agott was still holding it against her face.
“--it’s that time again already?!”
“Yes?” said Agott, stunned. “Have you even looked out the window today?! Check the tree. See for yourself. The last frost was three weeks ago. Did you really lose track.”
Coco fixed her eyeglasses and ran to do just that, practically shoving her whole upper body out like she was still a young girl. There was their Silverwood, a still rare young growth one, less twisted than the elder trees that most witches knew. In its boughs, among the most tender, tiny branches, she saw the faintest hint of buds. Coco took a deep breath of the cold afternoon air.
“Oh,” said Coco. “It is time. Class! Tomorrow morning shall be a free study in the garden. I want you all to figure out how to best sow seeds with as little dirt on your fingers as possible. Master Tartah ought to be in to oversee you. You’ll be good to him, won’t you? If I hear you’ve done any pranks it will be… well, just porridge for dinner. But I know that won’t happen. Because you’re all very good. Now I must… I must–”
“Answer. The. Letter,” said Agott. “Before he sends five more!”
“Yes!” said Coco, happily for the reminder, she whirled for the door with a great flourish of her sleeves, her cap’s ribbon and long braid trailing a bit like a comet’s tail. “Oh. And Agott will review your drafts while I do that!”
“SHE WILL?” cried her students, in unison.
“I will?!” shouted Agott, whirling after her. “Coco. I am an archivist. Not a–”
But the Master was already out the door and up the steps to her study. There was nothing for Agott to do but turn and sigh. She ran her hand back through her hair, then she dropped it and gave her knuckles a rather decisive crack.
“Very well,” she said, a hard glint in her eye born of a far more merciless education than the one experienced in these walls. “Pens up. Let’s see them. And don’t think being outsiders excuses you from practicing your penmanship. We will repeat these shapes until they are flawless.”
The collective groan was almost satisfying.
The first few bell flowers were poking out through the old browned grass. Winter was gone, but only just. Coco took a deep breath of the crisp air, and immediately began to cough.
“Still cold,” she said.
“You’re the one who insisted we leave at dawn,” remarked Agott, shutting the cottage door behind them. “Can’t believe he agreed…No. I can. He’s like that.”
“It just seemed a shame to waste the day.
“Let’s just hope someone in this retinue has gotten some sleep. Because it certainly wasn’t you.”
“Was it you?”
“Hmph.”
They made their way down the knoll, the familiar countryside streaming past in all its grey glory. Even in the dim of early dawn, even in the last grasp of cold, it was beautiful in its clarity. Coco craned her head and smiled to see it, even if she did have to hold her cap against the wind a little. The brushbuddy tickled her cheek before vanishing into the collar of her cloak.
But the grove wasn’t far. They’d made sure it wouldn’t be. The first of the shimmering branches appeared around the slope. Coco broke into a run despite herself. They weren’t alone. Soon, a second pair appeared running towards them. The great flash of pink and gold that was Tetia and her twin-peaked cap welcomed them at the edge of the grove.
“Tetia,” cried Coco, speeding up. “Oh, good. You could make it!”
She launched herself into Tetia’s arms, already thrown out to receive her.
“You think I’d miss it?” said Tetia. “Where else would I be?”
“Well, you were halfway across the world…” said Agott, who had quite sensibly clicked her heels and used her sylph shoes to reach them all instead. “Where was it this time?”
“The Western coast,” said Tetia proudly. “Oh, there’s so much there. You would not believe how many new items I’ll be bringing back with me.”
“You smell amazing!” remarked Coco, because she did. All interesting perfumes and spices.
“How many marriage proposals are you dodging this time?” asked Agott.
“A lady doesn’t tell,” sang Tetia, whose suitors included five major nobles, a king, and counting. It was always a mess to coordinate, but it suited her fine. She demanded lots of charity donations and public works as love gifts.
“So there’s another one…”
Richeh landed behind them, her hair settling about her shoulders like a cape. She tossed a chunk of it out of her eyes with barely a thought. Like Agott, she’d remembered she had shoes for this sort of thing.
“...so much running,” she murmured. “Could just fly…”
“I know,” said Agott. “I’ve told her. I’ve told her many times.”
“And Richeh!” Coco grinned. “You made it, too.”
“I always do.”
Nevertheless, it was Richeh’s turn for a Coco hug. Then Tetia grabbed Agott, swung her at them, and completed the full set with a giant pile-up of witches.
“And someone didn’t burn down her workshop,” said Agott. “Well done.”
Richeh eyed her. “It was only the once.”
“Who’s watching it now?”
“Euini.”
“Then it might survive a little longer.”
“Agott,” said Coco, play swatting at her. “Just say it’s good to see her!”
“S’fine,” said Richeh. “It’s her love language.”
A Silverwood grove was an eerie thing. It was something that should have never existed. It never would have, in the old world, before Coco had joined the world of magic and all it entailed. The Silverwoods she’d known as an apprentice had all been ancient, wizened things, hollowed out and ailing in a way she’d never known until much later, nearly too late.
They would die, she knew. All things did. Even a Silverwood that had been granted long life and love from the stars. But now new ones grew, and magic remained in the world. It was a wonderful thing. But it had come at a price. More than one person had paid it.
“I know it’s different now,” murmured Coco. Pausing as she heard a rustle in the brush. It was only a deer, flicking its ears their way before vanishing once more. “But still…”
“Eyes forward, Coco,” Agott reminded her. But Tetia quietly took her hand, and Richeh began to hum to give them something to hear that wasn’t just their own feet on the path.
It was a well paved path. Better than it ought to have been. As they drew near the center of the grove the dirt gave way to tiles, the mid-line of which lit up as their feet touched it. Coco couldn’t help but smile at them, even as she resisted the urge to dance along them the way she often had as a child. She knew what they actually meant.
“Ohhhh, someone overdid it this year,” sighed Tetia. “ We should really check in with him more.”
As they got closer, the path split, forming a circle around the centermost tree. The largest of all in the young wood. Sitting in front of it, muttering to himself, was Olruggio of the Torch. His pen was in his hand, its sharp point flashing in the morning light. He drew the design against the very trunk of the tree, taking incredibly care not to cut into it with the sharp of the nib. With the rustle of his cloak and his bunched sleeves, it seemed like a wild, aimless motion, but he was a master through and through. Every stroke served a purpose.
“They’ll be here soon,” he sighed. “Had to make a show of it early, did you? That’s just like you. Here.”
He reached back without even looking, clutching several sheets of paper torn from his quire.
“North, south, east, west,” he said. “You know the drill.”
“Good morning, Master Olruggio,” the girls chorused.
“Still not your master, lass” said Olruggio. “But here.”
Coco inspected the unfinished spell with interest. “Oh, you’ve changed the design again this year…”
“Simplified it,” said Olruggio. “Focused it a bit more. Don’t need quite as much heat as we’ve been putting out. You make sure you join the lines right here. And take care not to draw them too wide. We’re limiting spread.”
“Right on it, sir,” said Coco.
Olruggio did look at her then, and despite the exhaustion clear on his face, some of those lines became a grin that was almost like a mischievous young boy. “Atta girl.”
The white fire descended on the central tree. It caught in the branches, crackling and popping. It ran down the trunk, searing it on the way. A spicy smell filled the grove. The wood and bark cracked, fire erupting from the inside. Agott grabbed Coco’s arm and pulled her back. Richeh and Tetia did the same. Only Olruggio stood in place, utterly unfazed by the heat flaring off the flames.
“That’s enough,” he said, dragging his foot across a line in the spell.
And, just like that, the star-colored flames flared, shook, and then peeled away into wisps of smoke. The char around the outer bark of the tree trunk sloughed away, revealing fresh, silvery tree-flesh underneath, and a great split down the center. And in this split, lay a different piece of wood. Something smooth and carved, shaped almost like a man. For a brief lingering moment, as the smoke gathered and dispersed, it remained a carving – shot through with silver whorls and grain, but as the air cleared, the skin instead looked flushed and alive.
“Oh,” cried Coco. She tried to move forward. But Olruggio moved faster, dragging his cloak off the ground as he went. The figure fell into his arms, he only rocked a bit under the weight of it.
“There we go,” he muttered. “Couldn’t resist a little drama, eh?”
Coco could just make out one of Qifrey’s hands bunching in the back of his cloak, before Tetia read the room and quickly dragged them both back behind the tree line and out of immediate sight.
“Ah, Olly,” muttered Qifrey, pressing his face against his chest. He coughed up a few dry leaves, but he kept his head there, simply breathing him in as he remembered how his lungs worked. “ “There’s a bit of a bite in the air. Did I miss the last snow of the season?”
“Aye. By a fair bit,” said Olruggio. “You always come out near spring.”
“What a shame.”
“Liar,” said Olruggio, “You hate how damp it all gets.”
“True,” said Qifrey. “But I like watching it with you.”
“Hmph. That’s a bit more honest,” said Olruggio. His voice hit a funny rough hitch.
To which Qifrey gave a shivery little laugh, like the wind in through iced branches. “I owe you that much, after all this time.” He looked up at him. “It’s so warm here, though. Might I stay a while longer?”
Olruggio’s voice dropped to something inaudible. They put their heads close together for a time, until finally they heard a bark of: “Yes, they’re here.” And at last, Qifrey pulled himself up into his hastily assembled robes and stood up.
“Ah, hello everyone. It’s good to see you again,” he said, a bit breathlessly, and with an awkward wave. A confidence that clearly did not translate into his balance, no matter how many times he’d managed this particular transformation. The color was still returning to his cheeks and his eye. Streaks of silver wood whorls lingered in his hands. “I’d offer you breakfast but, ah, it might have to wait just a touch…”
His hand hovered a little aimlessly. Olruggio threw an arm around his waist to steady him. Coco quickly moved forward to grab one of his arms, Agott the other. Richeh and Tetia encircled them for extra support.
“That’s fine,” said Coco. “We’ll make it this morning. After all, we’ve had an excellent teacher.”
Master Qifrey was properly bathed and dressed by the time the girls had finished the spread, with much arguing over process and dish selection and much compromise that ended up involving “just making it all.” By the time Olruggio guided Qifrey back down the steps, there was a feast that would no doubt offer leftovers from days, despite Richeh swearing a solemn oath to do her best to clear the table single-handedly.
“Well, you ought to bring some back for Euini…” remarked Tetia.
“Hm,” said Richeh.
Master Qifrey for his part sat quietly and watched them. The kitchen was warm and busy, many bodies bustling against each other, even as they all gathered about the table. Olruggio sat next to him, ignoring much of his meal to instead inspect the faded whorls along Qifrey’s arm.
“Eat something, my dear,” said Qifrey, though he didn’t flinch away from the touch, just watched Olruggio work, a ghostly smile playing across his lips.
“Later.
“And did you have anything last night? Or this morning?”
Olruggio, who clearly hadn’t, made a noncommittal grunt.
“Agott, might I borrow you?”
“As you wish, Master Qifrey,” said Agott, who immediately cut between him and Olruggio, setting a bowl of rice pudding down in front of Olruggio with a steeliness the young woman usually reserved for her work.
“That was foul,” barked Olruggio.
“Necessity,” sing-songed Qifrey. But it gave Coco time to settle on his other side.
“You came out earlier this year,” she said. “And the lines are more faint.”
“Mm, the transformation cycle seems to be settling,” agreed Qifrey, flexing his fingers. His vision had returned, in a sense, though his good eye had gone from its once sharp blue to a more ghostly silver, and if one looked closely they could see the leaf veins still present in his iris. His false eye, the one that kept the secondary spell in it, was hidden behind his darkened lens. “I would say it was a matter of self acceptance but I suspect it has more to do with you and Olruggio’s adjustments. I feel quite fine, though. You needn’t worry. There’s still some stiffness, but it will pass. Try to convince my Watchful Eye of that, though.” “There haven’t been any, ah, episodes?”
“Eruptions you mean?” Qifrey rubbed his shoulder in tender memory. Coco and Olruggio had both studied the changes in his body, since the first time they’d tried the sequence spells Coco had theorized might work. But while his fingers now had traces of silver, and whorls, and his hair had a few more feathery wisps that resembled a bit of bramble, nothing had broken his skin in a long time. “It holds true. So long as I sleep when it bids me to, it stays calm in the warmer months. It’s…oddly refreshing. Though it pains me to miss calling on you in the winter.”
“I understand, Master Qifrey.”
“How are you getting on?”
“Oh, wonderfully. I took on three new students this year.”
“All outsiders?”
“Yes.”
“Oh, the Knights Moralis must be furious,” said Qifrey, with real delight.
“Yes,” said Coco. “But they haven’t come up with a case against me yet.”
“A true credit to your teacher.”
“You’d never say that if I were still your student.”
“Absolutely not.”
Coco left the distant atelier late afternoon, carrying three bags of charcoal and a sack full of fresh buns and pastries for the children. She tickled the brushbuddy’s head, making it promise most solemnly to care for them both. She promised to visit for tea and supper in a week’s time, work willing. Before she left, Olruggio handed her a surveying stand, one with several discreet markings carved into the lenses, to be adjusted as required.
“The improved version,” he said, “You’ll know how to use it.”
“Thank you, Master Olruggio.”
“Still not your master.”
Coco hugged him, nevertheless.
Agott marched through the portal as it clacked into place, but Coco lingered. She wasn’t entirely sure why. Maybe it was simply to make sure Olruggio or Qifrey didn’t collapse the moment she left. Olruggio stepped back. She had just a glance of him putting his arm back around Qifrey’s waist, and Qifrey quietly folding to place his head on his shoulder. To which Olruggio grabbed hand and brought it to his face. Ostensibly, to inspect the lingering aspects of the tree in his skin, but his lips soon brushed his knuckles. Coco hurried on at that point. Whatever passed between them after that, that was their own business. Coco wasn’t too keen to meddle more than she already had.
“I hope they’re happy,” said Coco, on the other side. “I hope they’re….really, really happy.”
“I think that’s a given,” sighed Agott. “There’s such a thing as being too happy. I’m surprised they let us all linger as they did. Did you not notice how Master Olruggio touched legs with him under the table? I swear, they’ve only grown more shameless with age…”
“Agott!”
“What? It’s only the truth.” But Agott relented, taking one of the spatial sacks from Coco, as they made their way up to the school’s main level. “But it’s good to see them in such good spirits. Even if Olruggio ought to not take the winters so hard. Master Qifrey’s come back every time so far. It’s not as if your original spell’s ever failed.”
It hadn’t. Not since Coco had realized the truth. The truth not even Qifrey himself had known. He was not a Silverwood host. He was a Silverwood cutting. A desperate attempt from the Brimmed Caps to create a new growth, a new manner of cultivation, because the grand old trees were all dying, and if they all died, there’d be no magic left for anyone at all.
Controlled burns had been, all in all, a very odd compromise. Even if it meant that Qifrey was required to sacrifice his human form for several months a year. The form it left him in for the rest of it seemed to have been a fine trade, when he knew the exact ‘when’ to return to his roots. No more tending to his own transformation. No more unexpected branches in his eye socket and in his wrists. As for the side effects of such a conflagration…
“The seeds will have been dispersed and activated by the flames,” said Coco, quietly. “Warmth and love. The safest kind. The kind tended by deep, abiding bonds. The grove will be more full next year.”
“Which means more magic for the world you’ve made,” said Agott. “And less growth in the hearts of unsuspecting beasts. You could take some pride in it. In fact I demand that you do. False modesty is quite irritating.”
“When did you know?” asked Coco.
“Know what?”
“That Master Qifrey and Olruggio’s are ah…”
“Lovers?” asked Agott, with a raised eyebrow. Coco had a terrible coughing fit. Agott rolled her eyes. “Or at least very much wanted to be? I hadn’t thought of it at all, if I’m honest. Unlike some of us, I don’t care to think about my teacher’s love life. … It wasn’t until you and Tetia started going on about it that the idea even occurred to me. And it wasn’t until the first time Master Qifrey returned from the wood that I really believed it. Not everything in the world is romance, you know.”
“But this is,” said Coco.
“So long as they honeymoon on their own time…”
“Is it common?” asked Coco, suddenly.
“Eh?”
“For witches and their Watchful Eyes to be…well. Like that.”
Coco made a vague gesture, but she touched her chest and smiled.
Agott shook her head. “Why would I know?”
“You’ve lived in this world longer than me.”
“It isn’t my world anymore, Coco. You’ve seen to that,” said Agott. She aggressively looked away, as they stepped out into the garden.
“Oh, praise be. You’re back.” Tartah was eager to receive them. Both for the charcoal, which he would soon use to make more ink, and the relief from the overeagerness of the students, who had managed in their great energy to exhaust him in a single morning, and for the survey equipment which – once the students were placated with their pastries and steamed buns – they quickly brought to the young Silverwood out back.
“We place it like this, I believe –” said Coco, setting the device the way the notes in Olruggio’s letter had suggested she try, until the grooves aligned in a way that resembled her draft of the spell, followed by Olruggio’s adjustments. “The lenses ought to direct the spell. Then we trace over it with the ink and – Ah!”
The three of them all leapt back, as the children ran shouting at the sudden flare of white starlight.
But as it turned out, Custas enjoyed the steamed buns, too.
Custas and Tartah portaled back to their clinic. The children did their afternoon lessons, before returning to their homes, or to the dormitories in the atelier’s third level. It was all and all a very normal end to what was a very abnormal day, but Agott found she didn’t have the heart to return to her archive just yet. Instead she watched Coco from the door, as Coco reset the classroom, using magic to clean the tables and place the inksets in their rightful places, delighting even in this very simply, basic application of it.
Maybe that was the true fix in this world. The joy at the small things like that. No witch who had been born into such secrets would have ever really thought to find such little things so wondrous, but Coco always did. It was the sort of wonder that made a young girl think of things like: "If the safe place cannot be in our heart, can we make it what surrounds us?” And then, somehow, that wonder saved their world.
“It’s funny,” said Agott, absently. “I always thought he’d marry you.”
Coco nearly knocked her carefully replaced inkwells back on the floor. “What?”
“Tartah, I mean,” said Agott, looking away. “You were so close, when we were younger. And he seemed absolutely besotted with you. I thought…”
Coco fixed her glasses and laughed, awkwardly. “I mean. We did…try that sort of thing. For a bit. But we didn’t really work… like that – didn’t you just say not everything is romance?”
“And didn’t you ask how common that sort of thing is?” Agott answered. “You brought it all up. Can’t blame me for thinking about it now.”
Coco turned quickly away, and busied herself back to rearranging the desks, but just when Agott thought the topic would be dropped with all that blustered, she stopped at the window, where the now charred remains of the Silverwood trunk stood, and said. “We both realized we worked far better as friends. And him and Custas understand each other far better, now. After all they’ve been through. It’s just. Well. Sometimes that’s how it is, you know?”
She scratched the little ridge on her cheek, the faded scar from a terrible night, a very long time ago.
“Ah,” said Agott. “So he is just a fool.”
“Agott!”
“Just if it had been me, and not him,” said Agott. “I’d have never let you go.”
The inkwells went rolling after all. Coco turned around.
It was quiet in the Atelier. For a very long time, all they heard was the ticking of the clock and the slight creak of the children bustling about upstairs.
“You asked if it was common,” said Agott. “It’s not, I don’t think. But I suppose I am a credit to my teacher, too. Except I don’t think I want to wait around like those two did. I think they were fools, too, to have gone on about it that long. Honestly, it’s been irritating me for a while, that I could never seem to speak up about it. Or how you never seemed to have noticed that I…”
And Coco had the nerve to smile, very slowly and very carefully, as she extended a hand to her dear friend and former classmate. “That you what?”
To which Agott crossed the room, took Coco’s hands, and made her intentions very known. With her mouth. On Coco’s lips. In the fading light of the workshop, in front of the silhouette of a young Silverwood.
“Let’s not be foolish old men,” said Agott, but though she pulled away, she didn’t let go of Coco’s hands.
“You’re right,” said Coco, with all the ease of someone for whom the great barriers of the world were nothing but minor inconveniences. She took Agott’s face and pulled her in again. “Let’s not.”