Chapter Text
There’s nothing wrong with Cape Romonon, per se, Qifrey thinks petulantly as he steps through the windowway. It’s just that it’s getting really annoying that witch society insists that nearly every test must be on or near some kind of body of water. He would really like to one day be allowed to go somewhere where there is not a single drop of it in sight. A cellar. A desert. Anything, really.
The sound of the ocean crashing against the cliffs is different from what it sounds like atop the Great Hall. There, it is a calm thing, too far below to hear the churning except on especially windy days. Here, it is violent and loud, the waves hammering themselves against the gray stone below while gulls do their best to make their arguments heard over the noise. Salt hangs in the air and sticks to the back of his throat, and every gust of wind tries to shove Qifrey’s hat off his head.
Qifrey glares at the ocean, ignoring the hand that falls on his shoulder and squeezes it with excitement.
“Ah, the Sincerity of the Shield.” Master Beldaruit sighs fondly. “I do think this might be my favorite of the trials you younglings are to undergo. Teamwork, excitement, the thrill of walking through ancient history… You are going to love it, Qifrey.”
Qifrey hums noncommittally, chewing on the inside of his cheek. He doesn’t think he’ll like doing this test, just as he didn’t like doing the Consent of the Crown. The only trial he’s looking forward to is the third one, because after that he and Olly will finally be allowed to leave the Great Hall and go on their own adventures. That day cannot come soon enough.
The only thing that’s going to make this test bearable is the fact that he’ll have Olly at his side. Olruggio’s master had wanted him to do the Sincerity of the Shield last myrphon migration, but Olly had stubbornly refused, wanting to do the second test alongside Qifrey. It became this whole thing, but Olly had stuck to his choice. Olly’s master had been icy toward Qifrey for weeks afterward, clearly of the opinion that he was stifling her precious prodigy’s growth.
Qifrey doesn’t care. He feels a warm, quiet satisfaction every time he thinks of it. No matter how much his master had frowned or how many prestigious rewards and opportunities had been dangled in front of him, Olly had chosen Qifrey, had said, I’m not doing it without you.
Qifrey’s mouth tugs up in a faint smile. Maybe the test won’t be that bad after all.
It’s not just Qifrey and Olruggio, though. Master Bel mentioned that. They walk from the windowway to the giant stone snakehead, marking the entrance to the Serpentback Cave. At the foot of the statue, a witch and her apprentice are engaged in a conversation with a man who must be the proctor. The young girl, about Qifrey’s age, looks nervous, holding her master’s hand, fidgeting in her spot. She has warm brown skin and hair that reminds Qifrey of a bird in flight. They haven’t noticed the Wise and Qifrey yet.
Master Bel promptly rectifies this. “Yoo-hoo! We’ve arrived!” he shouts, waving.
The girl and her master look over. Qifrey tenses, instinctively taking half a step back to angle himself behind Master Bel’s sealchair. Of course, the Wise immediately starts talking in an overly familiar way, the proctor being one of his employees he apparently had a dinner party with last month.
The girl removes herself from her master’s side and sends Qifrey a curious look. “I’m Alaira,” she says politely, offering her hand.
Qifrey stares at it for a few seconds too long, accidentally making the moment a bit awkward. Just when Qifrey realizes that this is where he is supposed to shake her hand, because that’s a thing that normal people do, she drops it back to her side again.
“Sorry,” he mutters, not knowing what to do with his hand now so he starts tugging at his fringe to make sure his eye is covered. “Qifrey.” Alaira smiles encouragingly at him, hopefully unbothered by his lack of social skills. “Are you… from the Great Hall?”
He doesn’t recognize her, so he’s not surprised when she shakes her head.
“No, my atelier is in Atakese, in the south. We’re going to relocate to the Hall once I’ve passed my test, though.”
“Oh.” Should he ask why? Or is that a normal thing to happen and would asking it make him weird? He feels a little sweaty. He doesn’t talk much with kids his age, because they don’t usually want to talk to him, and the result is that he has had almost no practice.
Qifrey is saved from further embarrassing himself when a familiar voice comes from behind him.
“Qifrey!” Olruggio calls out, bounding forward without a second thought.
Before Qifrey can say a word, Olly closes the distance and wraps his arms tightly around him in an enthusiastic hug. Anyone else touching him like this would make Qifrey tense up or shove them away, but as Olly’s arms lock around his shoulders, Qifrey feels the tension instantly drain from his body. He lets himself be hugged, relaxing into his best friend’s warmth.
Over Olly’s shoulder, Qifrey catches the sharp, piercing gaze of Olruggio’s master. She stands a few paces back, her expression carved from frost, watching the boisterous greeting with visible displeasure. Qifrey sticks his tongue out at her, before pulling back to smile at his friend.
“You’re not late, for once. That’s a surprise.”
“Are you kiddin’?” Olruggio laughs. “I’ve been awake since five, that’s how nervous I am. Hi!” he says, noticing Alaira. “I’m Olruggio!”
Alaira introduces herself again, and Olruggio asks about the metal staff she is holding, with the crescent-shaped end. When she says it’s a contraption he completely lights up. Qifrey is standing there with his back straight, unsure of what to say or do as the two of them talk about contraptioncraft and their preparation for the test. She looks way more at ease, now.
He has never understood how Olly does this. He can walk up to practically anyone and find something to say, as though making conversation is as easy as breathing.
A really weird feeling, hot and tight, jolts through Qifrey’s chest when Olruggio makes one of his decidedly not-funny jokes and Alaira giggles girlishly into her fist, clearly charmed. He thins his lips and studies the toe of his boot, which is digging a small groove in the gravel. He suddenly feels like an intruder in a space he thought belonged only to the two of them. His optimistic mood from earlier drops.
He reaches out his hand to snatch a pinch of Olruggio’s sleeve, tugging it slightly. He doesn’t speak up — he knows that if he did, it would sound whiny, begging for attention.
Olruggio is in the middle of an enthusiastic gesture and doesn’t feel the tug, the fabric slipping out of Qifrey’s fingers. Alaira, however, notices. She tilts her head, her gaze dropping to Qifrey’s flexing hand before shifting up to his face. For a terrifying second, Qifrey thinks she’s going to call him out for being childish or petty. He stiffens, his heart thumping against his ribs. However, all she does is raise an eyebrow.
For some reason feeling like he got caught doing something shameful, Qifrey’s face flushes and he quickly turns around, walking away without a further word. Olruggio makes a noise of confusion, but Qifrey doesn’t look back. He moves to stand with the adults and nods at what they’re saying, even though he isn’t registering their words. His ears feel very hot.
Blah blah blah, myrphons, blah blah blah, Romonon, blah blah blah Mirror Cloaks of Borrowshade. It’s nothing Qifrey hasn’t already heard before. His master is the Wise in Teachings — he has been constantly regaled with the details from every test in the Pentacle of Proving, to the point that Qifrey idly wonders if he has an unfair advantage.
Not that such an advantage matters much; Olruggio of Ghodrey is doing the test with him, and that is the greatest advantage of all. Olly has already willingly pledged himself to help Qifrey out should any obstacle prove too difficult for him. It’s cheating, but they’re both too driven to care about technicalities, so long as it gets them one step closer to leaving the Great Hall behind forever.
“Qifrey,” Master Beldaruit suddenly says, uncharacteristically grave, prompting Qifrey to look up from the ground and meet his gaze. “I do hope you forgive me for this, some day.”
“What do you—” Qifrey starts, then falls quiet as he notices two new figures walking from the windowway to where they are standing.
One is the Wise in Principles. The other is her apprentice.
For several seconds, nobody moves. Easthies looks at Qifrey. Qifrey looks at Easthies.
Mutual loathing contorts their expressions simultaneously in a way that would be humorous, were anything about this situation remotely amusing.
“No,” Qifrey says. At almost precisely the same moment, Easthies says, “Absolutely not.”
Olruggio drags his hands down his face, groaning softly as Qifrey and Easthies both start furiously arguing with their respective masters.
“What… is happening?” Alaira asks, confused. “Who is that?”
“That’s Easthies,” Olruggio says. “We hate him.” He reflects on those words, then corrects himself, “Well, actually, it’s mostly Qifrey that hates him. I just think Easthies is a little annoying. Though then again, he can be very mean to Qifrey, so maybe I do hate him. Y’know. Out of loyalty.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Qifrey is raising his voice now, staring at Lord Beldaruit with an expression of absolute betrayal. Olruggio feels for his friend — the two Wise Ones clearly had known their apprentices were going to have to do this test together, and had kept this a complete secret until the very last second. Qifrey doesn’t take such an unwelcome surprise lightly.
“Because I can’t work with him!” his friend is shouting. “I don’t want to!”
“Qifrey, dear, my sweet boy,” Lord Beldaruit is saying in a soothing tone, concern underlying it, “I understand this isn’t ideal, and I’m truly so sorry about springing this on you… but I feared you would refuse to take your test if you’d known — and that would be a terrible shame, for you are capable of this. I know you hold your reservations, but you are more than ready. Please, I ask you to trust me.”
“Aagh!” Qifrey looks ready to throw himself off the cliff. “I’ll never trust you again!”
Olruggio pats his shoulder when he comes storming back over, though Qifrey immediately swats his hand away. “C’mon. It could be worse.”
“How.”
Olruggio struggles to give a reassuring answer — this is sort of Qifrey’s worst case scenario, come to think of it. “Um. We could both be sick and still be forced to do the test.”
“I do feel sick. He sickens me.”
“Is he really that bad?” Alaira asks, looking over where Easthies is scowling, his arguments also having fallen on deaf ears. “He just looks kind of… awkward.”
“He is that bad,” Qifrey huffs, kicking a stone. “He’s arrogant, rigid, and completely unbearable.”
Olruggio shrugs. “He’s a little stuck-up.”
Qifrey lets out a long, shuddering breath, his chest deflating as he glares toward the edge of the cliff where Easthies stands, rigid as a statue and looking just as miserable as Qifrey is. “He’s going to ruin everything, Olly. He’s going to spend the entire trial looking for a reason to report me for something.”
There’s a hidden message in those words, one he doesn’t make explicit because Alaira is listening. Olruggio knows Qifrey well enough to pick up on it, though.
What if you and I need to work together for me to succeed, and Easthies won’t let us because that’s not according to the rules? What if I fail this test because of him?
“Won’t happen,” Olruggio says, more confident than he feels.
It might happen. There is not a single kid that’s as much of a stickler for the rules as Easthies, and he has a long-standing grudge against Qifrey specifically. Meanwhile, Qifrey is behind on his study material. He got a late start to witchcraft and is still catching up. It was only because of constant nagging from both Qifrey and Olruggio that the white-haired witch apprentice was allowed to do the Sincerity of the Shield this year, instead of having to wait one more. Despite Lord Beldaruit’s kind words and faith, there might be a moment where Qifrey can’t adapt to the moment and falters.
So they’ve agreed in advance to cheat, happily and shamelessly, if they have to. Qifrey and Olruggio need to do the third test together, and for that Qifrey needs to succeed. But Easthies makes that more difficult. If they do need to cheat, they’re going to have to be very careful about it.
“But, uh, I’ll do a temperature check with Easthies, just to be sure.”
Sending Qifrey a thumbs-up that he hopes conveys ‘everything will be okay’, Olruggio trots over to where Easthies is brooding near the cliff’s edge. He is staring out over the ocean spray, his expression a thunderstorm.
“Hey Easthies,” Olruggio says, keeping his tone carefully casual. “So, uh. Didn’t expect you to be here today.”
Easthies sighs. “Hello, Olruggio. And yes. Likewise.”
“Right! So! Big day, huh?” Olruggio rubs the back of his neck, leaning on one foot. “You look, uh... ready. Everything prepared on your end?”
“Of course it is,” Easthies replies flatly. He turns his full attention to Olruggio, eyeing him up and down. “And you? Have you prepared well?”
“Think so.” He has. He knows this. He’s been ready for this test for over a year and is aware his spellcraft has advanced way beyond what is needed for this level. He’s not worried about himself.
“Good. We both understand that preparation is important for an examination like this, because it serves as a measurement for discretion. The ability to cast magic in the presence of outsiders should not be flippantly handed out.” Easthies takes a step closer, his voice dropping slightly as he fixes Olruggio with an unblinking, stern stare. “So, with that in mind, tell me directly, Olruggio. You don’t intend to illicitly carry Qifrey through this entire exam, do you?”
“What?” Olruggio says, much too loudly. “No!”
Easthies stares at him, unblinking. Olruggio isn’t sure if Easthies has ever made direct eye contact with him before, ever, but he sure is doing that now, and Olruggio’s whole body wants to squirm.
“That’s — wow. That’s a really serious thing to say to a person.” He presses a hand flat against his chest. It seems important to look wounded. “I can't believe you’d think that. Carry him? Qifrey? Through the exam? Qifrey doesn’t need carrying! He’s, he’s extremely capable! He’s going to do great! On his own! Completely by himself, with no help from me or anyone, because that would be wrong, and I would never.” He’s aware of his voice climbing. A gull flying overhead shrieks, and Olruggio can’t help but feel like it’s laughing at him. “Honestly, I'm kind of offended. On Qifrey’s behalf. Of course. Uh.”
A long, awful pause.
Easthies’ eyes drop to Olruggio’s hand, still clamped over his heart like he’s about to swear an oath. Then they lift again, and there’s very plain doubt and distrust in that red gaze.
“I see,” Easthies says.
Oh no.
“Right. Well.” Olruggio clears his throat, coughing awkwardly as he takes a step backward. “Good talk! Great talk! Good luck out there!”
He spins on his heel and retreats at a brisk, panicked march back to Qifrey.
“So?” Qifrey asks, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, eyeing him suspiciously.
Olruggio leans in close, grabbing Qifrey by the elbow and dragging him half a step away from Alaira. He lowers his voice to a frantic whisper. “Okay. So. Maybe… maybe we do need to be worried.”
Qifrey groans despondently, but before the two of them can start planning, the proctor, a black-haired man in his late forties, claps his hands. “Well,” he says, “now that everyone has arrived, perhaps we ought to begin.” He is eyeing both Qifrey and Easthies a little warily. Olruggio wonders if he’d known what he was signed up for.
Begrudgingly, Easthies joins them, his arms folded over each other and staring at a fixed point in the distance, ignoring Alaira’s little wave.
“My name is proctor Tyslan, and I will be traversing the Serpentback Cave with you four.” The proctor takes four cloaks out, handing one to each of the test-takers. They’re made from a shimmering material, each one covered in overlapping mirrored scales. They make Olruggio’s eyes hurt if he looks at them too long. Proctor Tyslan starts explaining their purpose and the goal of the test — remaining incognito in the eyes of their myrphon charges and successfully guiding these migrating fledglings to the other side of the cave.
Olruggio nods eagerly as he listens to the rules. He’s heard most of this already from Qifrey, who knows the details of every test due to who his master is, but it’s still important he pays attention, just in case.
Proctor Tyslan leads them to the side of the cliff, where dozens of the four-legged birds are roosting. The man demonstrates how to put on the cloak, and Qifrey, Alaira and Easthies follow his example. Olruggio waits for a moment, wanting to see.
He is absolutely delighted when he looks at the illusion placed on Qifrey. His best friend has vanished, and in his place stands a sullen-looking myrphon. It’s wearing a white and seafoam-green hat with a gold figure-eight detail and has a plume of feathers that covers his right eye.
Olruggio bites the inside of his cheek. “Hehe,” he snickers, deliberately not putting the cloak on yet so he can savor this sight — once worn, the illusion will be negated. “You’re Birdfrey now.”
Birdfrey puffs up his chest, his beak snapping forward to peck at Olruggio’s side. Olruggio feels it as a jab of an elbow. He keeps laughing as he throws the cloak on, watching the illusions fade and seeing his peers once more.
Qifrey, naturally, doffs the cloak to get a good look at Olruggio’s disguise. “And you are… um…” He frowns a little, his voice wavering. “Uh… Olroostio… no, that’s stupid…”
“Fowlruggio?” Alaira suggests. “You know, like waterfowl?”
For a second, both Olruggio and Qifrey stare at her. Then Olruggio grins ear to ear and lets out a delighted cackle. “That’s really good! You truly get me, Alaira.”
The staff is swinging loose in her hand now, and she’s grinning too. Whatever she walked in here carrying, she’s put it down. Olruggio likes her a lot. She’s sharp as a tack and can appreciate a good pun. He’ll have to see if she’s nice to Qifrey, because so many kids aren’t, and that’s a dealbreaker, but if she is, she should totally eat lunch with the two of them in the cafeteria once she’s moved to the Hall.
Beside him, Qifrey stiffly puts on his cloak again, his expression frigidly neutral. His jaw tightens so hard a faint muscle twitches along his cheekbone.
“Are you three finished?” Easthies has his fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose. “We still have to complete the entire test, in case the wordplay made you forget.”
“Okay, Beasthies,” Olruggio quips, feeling aglow when Alaira giggles at that. He might have had that one in the mind-closet for a while. It’s a little low-hanging fruit, after all. Easthies doesn’t seem impressed, rolling his eyes.
The proctor leads them down the cliffside path to where the myrphons are roosting. Olruggio notices Qifrey is losing his footing slightly on the uneven rocks, his missing depth perception making the narrow, winding drop difficult to navigate.
Spotting his struggle, Olruggio turns and warm-heartedly extends an open hand. “Here, hold on.”
Qifrey ignores it, walking past without even acknowledging the gesture.
Olruggio frowns. Confusion stings him. Did he do something wrong? Qifrey was fine a moment ago, but now he acts like Olruggio and Easthies are the same person.
Baffled, he rubs his neck, continuing down the path.