Chapter Text
Richeh had known it would be a bad day from the moment she woke up. The weather was hot and humid in that way that made every breath feel like effort and there was no relief from the temperature in the shade at all. The sun was too bright and the sound of Tetia singing to herself as she got dressed grated on Richeh’s nerves.
Briefly she considered just hiding in her jar and avoiding everyone today, but she was hungry and she had made a promise to herself to try harder with learning more magic since the second test. So no hiding away. She could get through a bad day.
There had been plenty of bad days back with her old master and she had got through them all, she mused to herself as she stared at the hairbrush on the side. She had managed to squeeze herself down into quiet obedience then, even when she had hated her master, hated the lessons and hated the life she was in. She could manage a bad day here, where the lessons were usually good and she trusted both master Qifrey and master Olruggio. Hesitantly she picked up the hairbrush and pressed it to the tip of her hair. She felt she could sense every strand of hair on her head as the brush tugged at them, and set it back down again. Fine, tangled hair. It didn’t mean she couldn’t cope with the day.
At least the other students knew not to disturb her when she was being quieter than usual. No one forced her to talk or smile or participate, and master Qifrey didn’t say a word about her leaving the fruit on the side of the plate. But they were all still loud and talking and the bright colours of the plates and food were making her eyes hurt. Richeh held on, digging her nails into the palm of her hands and counting her breaths like master Olruggio had taught her to do when everything got overwhelming.
Lessons were hard. Concentrating on magic that wasn’t hers still felt like a burden, and even though she told herself why she was learning how to control the temperature of summoned water, her focus kept wandering, hands drifting to the side of the paper to draw tiny glyphs and ideas. If she lowered the temperature to ice and combined it with a twisting wind sigil, would she get a curled ice sculpture or would it remain a ball with odd textures, or…
She forced her hand back to the centre of the page, dutifully copying the sigil in her primer. If Richeh wanted to have magic that could do everything she wanted, she needed to learn more magic than just hers. It didn’t mean losing herself, it didn’t mean she couldn’t do her own magic as well, she could learn both. She’d drawn the fire sigil too large, the water would come out boiling. Sighing, she reached forward to tear the attempt up.
“I did it!” Coco cried, an explosion of sound as a waterspout of frigid water leapt up from her paper. Tetia cheered, jumping to her feet and even master Qifrey applauded. Richeh frowned, hunching further over her page. Did they all have to be so loud all of the time? A headache was beginning to settle in the back of her skull and her hair was tangled and annoying and now that she was paying attention she could feel every press of her clothes against her skin. Without her bidding her mind wandered to the silent working rooms of her old atelier, a dozen students sitting at individual desks, copying the same spells over and over again without a break or a sound and the threat of master’s cane slamming down on a shoulder or back for the slightest imperfection always hanging over you. That had been far worse than this. She would just have to endure.
“It’s really high!” Tetia exclaimed, stepping backwards. Agott rolled her eyes, muttering something about relying too much on straight lines again and how that could unbalance a glyph. Coco bounced forward to give Tetia a high five, almost knocking her back into Richeh in their shared delight. Richeh bit the inside of her lip, fighting for control. Maybe she should just leave, go up to her room and work there…but she did want to get this done, and it would be even harder to not be distracted by her own spells in her room. She stared at the incorrect spell in front of her and fought for self control. She had worked through bigger problems than other students being happy around her before. Her old master would never have allowed something like outside noise to slow her drawing for a moment. She could hold on.
“May I take a look at your work Richeh?”
Startled, Richeh looked up to see master Qifrey was crouched down next to her, reaching for her work. Her mind was still stuck in the past, thoughts of her old atelier wound tightly through her as she looked down, noticing that the spell was incorrect, that there was a half drawn tiny sigil of hers to the side and she reacted without even thinking. She couldn’t let master see her own spell, she would be in trouble for drawing things that weren’t part of the primer! She couldn’t let him see she hadn’t drawn the spell right, she would get hit, or worse, Rili would get hit. She needed to hide her work, not let him see!
Her pen flashed forward, closing the outer circle of the spell she had been working on. Even as it moved, she remembered why the spell was incorrect, and realised that master was leaning over the page to look at it, but the realisation arrived a heartbeat too late to stop the sweep of her pen.
A spurt of boiling water leapt upwards from the page, fully two foot high, hissing and steaming. Richeh could feel the heat from where she sat, the clouds of steam that scalded her as she scrambled back. She was far back enough that none of the water hit her though, far back enough to see with perfect clarity how master Qifrey’s eye widened as it saw her finish the spell, how he tried to jerk back, and to hear his shriek of pain as the boiling water slammed into the side of his face.
Time froze. The spell finished and the water died away to nothing. The other girls were staring at her, mouths wide and faces horrified as they looked between Richeh, kneeling there with the pen in hand, her spell lying in front of her, and master Qifrey, bent over and pressing a hand against the side of his face, breathing in harsh pants and with his glasses knocked to the floor beside him.
“What did you do Richeh!” Agott shouted, breaking the moment of stillness. Master Qifrey raised his head a little at the shout, and Richeh could see the bright red skin peeking out from behind his long white fingers, could see the way his eye was still tightly squeezed shut even as he turned towards her. Coco and Tetia were silent and still, Agott jumping to her feet, anger plain to see on her face.
“I…”
“Coco, go and fetch master Olruggio, Tetia, get some cold water. Richeh, just-don’t move!” Agott snapped, and the room sprang into action around Richeh. She stared down at the pen, then threw it to the ground and ran out the door.
***
Richeh didn’t know how long it had been before she heard footsteps approaching her hiding space. The sun had moved to nearly overhead, so it must have been close to midday, but she hadn’t really been aware of the passage of time as she had sat, curled up in the tightest ball she could manage and trying not to think about anything.
She always ruined everything. Couldn’t be capable of just being normal. No one else had struggled with just drawing what they were supposed to. No one else would have been so stupid they would have finished a sigil without thinking about what it would do, or where anyone else was. Well…Coco might, but she hadn’t been raised a witch. Richeh was supposed to know better. She knew she wasn’t back with her old master, why had she panicked?
What if master Qifrey decided to send her away?
No one else would want her, not an apprentice who had been through two different masters. Not one who had called the watchful eyes on one master and then burned the other through her own stupidity. She would never be a full witch, would never be able to use her magic to make beautiful things and live the life she wanted to have. It wasn’t fair!
The footsteps came closer, heading straight for the tangled tree roots she was hiding in, hidden out of sight by their wooden barrier, with the view over the downs in front of her. Richeh ducked her head down further, letting her hair cover her shoulders. Maybe they would see she didn’t want company and would just go away.
“Richeh? May I join you?” reluctantly, Richeh glanced up. Master Qifrey had a bandage across his cheek and the skin around it still looked red and irritated, but he was smiling at her and his voice was as calm and gentle as normal. Her spine relaxed a little. He wasn’t angry; she wasn’t about to be punished, or scolded or thrown out to fend for herself. Master Qifrey had never lied to her, if he didn’t look angry, then he wasn’t angry. She didn’t reply to his question, but shuffled a little to the side to make room for him.
For a long moment they just sat together in silence, staring across at the view and watching the dappled sunlight dance across the floor in front of them. Richeh could feel the guilt still twisting in her stomach, but with the fear gone it felt more manageable, like she could talk around it.
“Why aren’t you cross?” Adults often told her she jumped into conversations that should be approached gently, but Richeh never understood that. What was the point of saying a lot of pointless nonsense before asking the question you wanted an answer to? Master Qifrey never seemed to mind anyway.
“It was an accident. They happen, there’s no point in being angry over it. Besides, it was my own fault for leaning over your spell and not waiting to see if you were ready to let me see it.” he replied simply.
“But you got hurt.”
“And we both learned a valuable lesson about being careful around unchecked spells.”
He made it all sound so simple, as though she hadn’t heard how much pain he had been in, hadn’t seen the horror on the other girl’s faces, as though she couldn’t still see the marks across his face that were all her fault.
“Mas-my old master would have punished me.” She said after a moment, staring down at her bare feet in the soil, shoes pushed to the side. “I think most adults would have punished something like that,” she could feel master Qifrey shrug next to her.
“I have never found punishment a particularly effective motiviser for anyone, let alone a child who made an honest mistake,”
“Why not? Everyone else does,” part of her wondered why she was pushing this. Did she want master Qifrey to be cross with her, to shout at her or worse? He didn’t reply for a long moment, leaning back on his hands and looking up at the sky through the branches of the tree they were under. When Richeh risked a glance at his face he looked pensive and a little sad almost. She didn’t interrupt him. People always used to interrupt her when she was thinking how to answer a question and it was frustrating. Instead she reached up to begin tugging at a tangle in her hair again.
“Do you know why the rule about apprentices being able to choose their own master came about?” Master Qifrey said at last, turning to look down at her. He pulled a comb out of his pocket and gestured for her to shift closer. She turned so he could begin very very gently teasing out the knots in her hair as he spoke.
“No.”
“It was shortly after I had taken the second test, I must have been a little younger than you are now. Master Beldaruit had fallen badly ill. He’d had illnesses before, occasional days when he’d been too tired or sick to teach, but this one was worse. They said he would be away for a long time recovering, and I would only be a distraction to him.”
***
“That’s fine. I can teach myself,”
“It is not fine. You cannot be without a master for such a long period of time, and as Beldaruit has not seen fit to assign someone to be your guardian in such a case as this, one will have to be assigned to you,”
“I don’t want a different master,”
“Thankfully for us all, no one really cares what you want,”
Qifrey scowled at the older witch in front of him, arms crossed tightly under his cloak. Master Beldaruit had already been in the medical spire for a week without anyone being able to give him a straight answer on when he would recover and Qifrey had been doing just fine looking after himself. Olruggio had been making sure he was eating and Alaira had been checking the work he was doing and he didn’t see any reason he couldn’t look after himself until master Beldaruit was back.
“The difficulty, Juli, will be finding someone actually willing to take him. He’s not exactly unknown in the Great Hall. And everyone knows what he is,”
“Mmmm. Thankfully I’ve already had an offer. Quintalius retired from the Knights Moralis last winter. He took the fifth test decades ago, but he did take it. And he lives far away enough that he-” the witch with the bright green robes jerked a dismissive thumb over his shoulder at Qifrey who debated on making a rude gesture back at her “-shouldn’t be able to cause any trouble to us normal folk,”
“Quintalius? Excellent, he’ll whip him into shape. Beldaruit’s far too soft on him, letting him wander around like some sort of feral cat, getting into trouble and leading others down into mischief as well. Perhaps even Beldaruit will see sense and let him stay there,”
“I don’t want a different master. I’ll wait until master Beldaruit is better,”
“Will you escort him to the windowway? Probably best to get him there as soon as possible. We’ve wasted enough time on him as it is,”
“I suppose. Make sure he actually gets sent away, rather than skulking in the corners like a diseased rat,”
“Are you deaf? I’m not going to stay with some other witch, I’m fine here!”
“Much obliged! Oh, tell Sarin her application has been approved at last. She can take the fifth test in three weeks time.”
“Ah, thank you, she’ll be thrilled,”
Both witches were clearly ignoring him, and Qifrey had no intention of being shunted off to stay with some stranger. He turned, intending to vanish into the streets and find Olruggio. If he had to stay with a new master, perhaps Olruggio’s would take him. The man had never seemed particularly opposed to Qifrey after all.
A hand grabbed the back of his collar, yanking him back with enough force that he almost fell. Old panic rose up in his chest and he forced it aside, he was not going to freak out again, not just because of this stupid dismissive person who didn’t even have the decency to look at him as she spoke to him.
“Windowway is this way, you. Let’s get this over and done with,”
“I told you, I’m not going!”
“You are going, if I have to get the Knights Moralis to drag you there by the ankle. You’ve caused enough problems ever since you arrived, no one will be sorry to see you gone for a bit!” The venom in her voice surprised Qifrey, he didn’t think he’d even met this woman before, why was she so mad at him? She began walking, not letting go of his robe, so that he was stumbling along backwards behind her, trying to twist enough to see where he was putting his feet so he didn’t trip.
“Let me go!”
“Shut up,”
“You shut up! Wait-” she was surprisingly fast, even dragging him with her, and they were too close to the windowway for comfort. “-my stuff, I need some stuff surely?” He needed her to let go of him for a moment so he could run off into one of his many hiding spots.
“You’ve got clothes on your back and components. Far more than you had when you arrived. Your ingratitude will never cease will it?”
“I’m not going!”
He reached for his quire. Sure, doing magic to get free would get him into trouble, but he would be loose and able to run away from it. He could avoid the Knights for long enough that they would get bored of looking, and it wasn’t like he was going to hurt her or anything. But some sixth sense must have alerted her the moment his hands brushed against his pen, as she turned, finally letting go of his collar but instead grabbing for his wrists with both her hands.
She was stronger than she looked and Qifrey scowled as she squeezed his wrists together in one hand, pulling him forward like that instead. Cheeks burning with anger and humiliation, Qifrey was towed along several quiet streets, twisting and trying to wrench himself free, but unable to move an inch.
Looking up from his efforts he realised they were nearly to the windowway, and a spike of actual anxiety raced through him. It had all seemed ridiculous until this moment, an unfair and stupid idea, but one that wouldn’t actually happen. He wasn’t actually about to be tossed through a windowway to some strange master just because a couple of old people had decided they didn’t want to have him around. Surely Beldaruit wouldn’t have allowed this? He wouldn’t!
“Wait! Let me talk to master Beldaruit, surely he has someone I can stay with? Someone nearby? Olruggi-”
“Will you just shut up!” She stopped in the street and grabbed his face with her free hand, nails digging spitefully into his cheeks. “Listen to yourself! Master Beldaruit has already given up years of his life for you! Years that he could have spent raising a proper apprentice, not some outside unknowing with forbidden magic surrounding him! And after everything he’s done for you, to want to interrupt his healing just because you can’t handle being treated like everyone else? Selfish brat! I hope Quintalius knocks some sense into you, Beldaruit is far too soft to deal with someone like you,”
Qifrey didn’t get a chance to respond before she gave one last dig of her nails into his face and set off again, moving fast enough that he almost fell. Outrage bubbled in his chest, how dare she insult master Beldaruit? And what did she mean, ‘knock some sense into him’?
Before he could decide if he should just revert back completely to his younger self and begin biting to try and get away, they were at the windowway. A tall figure wearing a bright red robe and carrying a cane with a silver ribbon twirled around it was waiting there, looking at Qifrey, who glared back hotly.
“Quintalius! Excellent. Here’s your charge, I do hope you manage to teach him some manners. Bear in mind, he’s an escape risk, broken out of the Great Hall more times than anyone can count and caused no end of trouble, what with the fighting and the upset to the Knights Moralis. I’d keep him on a short leash until he’s properly trained.”
“Is that so?” The stranger, presumably this Quintalius, had a deep voice, gravelly as though he hadn’t spoken in months. His eyes were so pale they almost looked white, and he looked at Qifrey like he was some sort of beetle crawling where he shouldn’t. Qifrey gritted his teeth and reminded himself that Beldaruit would fix this once he was feeling better, Qifrey just needed to hold out for that long.
“Well, answer master Quintalius, Qifrey!” the witch said, shaking his wrists painfully. Qifrey transferred his glare to her and stubbornly kept his mouth shut. As though he would call anyone beside Beldaruit ‘master’. She sighed and released him, giving him a shove forward toward Quintalius. “Do try and behave yourself.”
Quintalius’ hand closed around Qifrey’s shoulder painfully hard as Qifrey gave one last frantic look around, trying to see any glimpse of a friendly face, still half in disbelief at what was going on and just how quickly it had happened. Surely someone would object to him being essentially kidnapped and handed over to some stranger? But there was no one else around, and Quintalius was stepping back through the windowway, dragging Qifrey with him into a freezing cold wind without a single word.