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They didn’t know what they were doing, not one bit. They had magic, sure, and each other, always. Practical building skills, though…these were lacking.
Shoulda been fairly easy, right? They were witches! Hiring townspeople from Kalhn would seem strange—after all, couldn’t they conjure anything they wished for, at once from the ether, all on their own? And Qifrey was too awkward—and Olruggio too proud, let’s face it—to ask for help from anyone back at the Great Hall. So constructing their atelier took several more months than it should have.
They’d started with elaborate plans, grand ideas, drawn up over drinks shared together under the stars right here on the Naakiwan Downs. It was Qifrey’s first dream, coming to life at last, and Olruggio knew he was happy, even though he tried to downplay it. Olruggio was happy, too! Here he was, a part of that dream somehow, despite his silly worrying that he’d be left behind.
Once they had to, y’know, carry out the plans, though…he swore he’d torn down and restarted these back bedrooms ten times already. He swore a lot in general, hauling bucket after bucket of stones up and down and UP and DOWN these narrow stairs, which were still wider than they’d been the first few times, but this was as wide as he could manage to get ’em. No way to fit a window, either. It was just so damn dark—!
Which was a common problem around this place. A great view of the stars meant pitch-blackness inside after nightfall. Ordinarily, one would save the light fixtures for last. But as usual, by Qifrey, Olruggio was motivated to try something new.
Qifrey had tried to help him here, but he’d tripped and fallen and smudged their temporary light spells, and cursed up a storm of his own enough times, that he’d given up, electing instead to decipher a method for building kitchen cabinets. Olruggio knew it had disappointed him. These were the rooms his future students would share. He wanted to play a direct role in their design, in their creation from the ground up. He was so excited—daring to hope with such caution, such careful enthusiasm.
This newfound desire to teach…it made sense to Olruggio, in the same way most things about Qifrey made sense to him, while to others they might seem abrupt, harsh, inscrutable. It suited him. Surely growing up watching Lord Bel had something to do with it, too.
He wanted Qifrey to be able to take full part in this endeavor. So as he sat on the top stair, wiping his brow, taking a quick (-ish) break and daydreaming about dinner…Olruggio also thought about light.
It was good they were apart for much of these days, else Qifrey would be too tempted to sweep Olruggio into an embrace, to kiss him and cry into his sweat-stained shirt, and that wouldn’t be any good. Not for either of them, no…he was too happy, too happy to be doing this.
He reminded himself of his unemployment. That typically worked to sober him up, helped him refocus on the tasks at hand. The hundreds and hundreds of harrowing tasks…
Qifrey sat cross-legged in what would allegedly soon be the kitchen, staring down his half-built cabinet as though he might force it to morph into the right shape through sheer willpower. All three of the cabinets he’d built—a generous word—so far were of differing sizes, wonky enough that Olruggio, when he saw them, would probably pull them apart in vexation and offer to build them again. That wouldn’t do.
He tapped his hammer lightly against his chin. Carpentry, now this was real magic…what on earth should he do next?
“Oi.”
He startled, nearly knocking a tooth out, and turned. Olruggio stood on the short steps, looking sweaty and worn-out and handsome.
“Don’t look at these,” Qifrey warned him. “I’ll figure it out. And they’re just to hold dishes, aren’t they? So long as they’re level…”
“I won’t look,” Olruggio said. He seemed eager, rubbing at his neck, then dragging his hand over his new goatee (his pride and joy). “I wanna show you something, though.”
Qifrey fielded and tempered his heart’s leap of surprise. “Oh? In the students’ rooms?”
“Yeah. Follow me?”
He did need a break from this. Perhaps a fresh eye in the morning…and they ought to eat something soon. “Coming.”
Olruggio was too eager to wait for Qifrey, who stumbled and shuffled around their piles and piles of messes. One day, this would become an atelier. Give or take a hundred years. He smirked to himself and, passing through the main room, shot a breathless glance up through the lofty, half-finished roof. The blue sky astounded him. Only a brief glance. He could budget for that, without falling undone in gratitude.
At last he caught up with Olruggio, who waited in the study area of the first set of rooms. Around him lay scattered tools and discarded casting paper. It was cluttered and messy, but his progress was clean and steady compared to Qifrey’s kitchen mishaps. Qifrey so admired him.
“What is it you’d like to show me?”
Olruggio gestured behind him, toward the plunging, umbrous stairwell that led to the bedrooms below. Qifrey’s mortal enemy of late; the bruises on his shins throbbed in agreement.
“Down here,” said Olruggio. “After you.”
Qifrey frowned a little. “It’s so dark. Shall I cast a light?” He patted his skirt for his quire, but it seemed he’d left it in the kitchen. “Or, I’ll follow you.”
“You go ahead,” Olruggio insisted. He was holding something back; Qifrey could feel it in his posture, hear it in his words. An odd thing to insist upon. Did he forget about Qifrey’s poor vision? Ah…
Qifrey sighed, turning bitterness away for now. None of that today, under such a clear, blue sky. He trusted the man, more than anyone, more than anything. He would descend into the darkness for him…always.
“It’ll be all right,” Olruggio murmured, realizing and reeling in his pushiness, if one could call it that.
“I know!” Qifrey smiled, raising a hand, and attempted a wryness of tone that was more lighthearted than grim. “I know you wouldn’t lead me to my doom…”
“Ha!” Olly smiled back, pouring out sincerity. “No, of course not. Never.”
“There we have it. Well then, here I go!”
Qifrey brushed past Olruggio. He allowed himself one breath of his familiar, lovely scent. He spread a firm hand against the brand-new wall, lowered a tentative boot, and started downward.
The steps had been wooden last time he was here, but they’d since become stone. Why the change? He felt something shift under his foot, a subtle pressing down, and he began to fret, to stumble—but before he fell, he gasped, for the stair had begun to glow.
The light was gentle on his eye, yet full. It illuminated the stair below it beautifully, an elegant invitation to continue on. So subtle, so delicate and warm…Olruggio’s magic, through and through. If any students ever tread here, they would be so grateful, so delighted. They’d take for granted the marvelous handiwork of their Watchful Eye.
“Olly…” Qifrey could scarcely bring himself to turn and face him. “How...how gorgeous. It’s beautiful, Olruggio.”
But he did turn. Olruggio beamed at him, hands on his hips in a posture of happy triumph. Free from the Great Hall, he’d flourished, too—his skin a fine, dark shade from all the sun, his moods and confidence improved by leaps and bounds. He shared so much. He loved so openly. Qifrey pressed his hand into the stone. It moved him, to see how happy he was.
“For the students,” Olruggio said. “Don’t want ’em falling and busting their asses like we’ve been doing…”
Qifrey pressed harder, until his palm ached. “...No, that wouldn’t do.”
“I’ve not done ’em all yet,” Olruggio said. “So you can get back to those cabinets if you want.”
Qifrey gazed at the light at his feet. He thought of the blue sky overhead. He needed some kind of reprieve; all this love would overwhelm him.
“I don’t know…I was thinking of supper,” he said.
Olruggio clapped his shoulder in approval. “You read my mind. Someplace in Kalhn?”
Qifrey indulged his touch. He had no other choice. “Lovely idea.”
END