The Zero Curse

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  I cupped my hands over the table and muttered the prayer, under my breath. I’d been told that my ancestors looked down on us from the Realm of the Dead, but I didn’t really believe it. My ancestors had probably turned their backs on me a long time ago. And I wasn't sure my father believed it either, although he was careful to keep the family shrine in good repair. But Great Aunt Stregheria would have called him out for dishonouring our ancestors, if he’d missed the prayer.

  My father rang the bell, again. “Let us eat.”

  I did my best to ignore the looming presence of Great Aunt Stregheria - and the nasty looks Alana sent me from time to time - as we ate our way through a five-course meal. Henry had outdone himself, as always. I would have enjoyed the carrot soup and roast lamb if I hadn't been uneasily aware that the real business would be concluded over dessert. Great Aunt Stregheria had to have a reason to visit, after all. Something had to have changed, recently, to make her visit us - and make my parents let her in the house. And I could only think of one thing that had changed.

  “The trade dispute with Salonika has been resolved, in our favour,” Great Aunt Stregheria said. She spent much of her time in Tintagel, the capital of the Kingdom of Tintagel. I couldn't help wondering why King Rufus hadn’t banished her to some distant estate years ago. “You should be seeing more trading ships over the next few years.”

  “That is good,” my father said. “And the ... disagreement ... with Valona?”

  “It remains unresolved,” Great Aunt Stregheria informed him. “Valona is unwilling to make border concessions until we resolve the issue of access to what remains of the Eternal City.”

  Alana leaned forward. “I thought they could just sail around to the inner sea and travel directly to the Eternal City.”

  Great Aunt Stregheria sneered at her. “Everyone knows that the waters around the Eternal City are infested with monsters,” she said, in the tone one would use to address a very stupid child. “Sailing ships cannot reach the city with any guarantee of return.”

  Alana looked crushed. I was torn between feeling sorry for her and an odd guilty pleasure in her humiliation. She’d treated me poorly for years. I’d spent more time than I cared to think about as a frog, or a toad, or something inanimate, purely because Alana had wanted to practice her hexes. And yet, she didn't deserve to be verbally shredded by a woman old enough to be her grandmother. Great Aunt Stregheria didn't look remotely ashamed. I was very glad she’d never had children.

  “We are currently haggling over access rights through the Blyton Pass,” Great Aunt Stregheria continued, ignoring my mother’s sharp look with practiced ease. “But His Majesty is reluctant to allow complete access unless we have the right to inspect caravans leaving the cursed lands.”

  “One would consider it pointless,” Alana muttered. She shot me a sharp look. “There’s only one secret to be found, isn't there?”

  “Correct,” Great Aunt Stregheria said. She turned to look at me. “And now that secret is out.”

  I tried to look back evenly, although she was sizing me up like a piece of meat on the market stall. There was only one secret from the Eternal City that everyone wanted, the secret of how to make Objects of Power. Objects of Power had been what turned a relatively small city in a poorly-populated region into the master of much of the known world, but the secret of how they’d been made had been lost when the city fell. And I’d cracked that secret weeks ago.

  And word is spreading, I thought. Dad had taken me from the school immediately after my duel with Isabella, but the rumours had already started. By now, they would be halfway around the world. No wonder Great Aunt Stregheria came to visit.

  Great Aunt Stregheria turned her attention back to my father. “It has become common for an aristocratic child to be fostered in the home of a distant relative,” she said. “Such practices are meant to teach the child social graces and introduce the young one to society without the distracting presence of a pair of doting parents. Many of my friends are playing host to children from across the kingdom and even outside it. The youngsters are gaining much from being fostered.”

  From being in the capital, I finished. And meeting people who will grow up to be the next generation of rulers and generals and everything else a society needs to work.

  I understood how it worked, even though I’d never liked it. I’d grown up in Shallot, where there were hundreds of aristocratic children; I knew everyone who was powerful or likely to become so, when their parents died. And yet, my lack of magic ensured that they had never really been my peers. I had been an outcast. But someone who grew up on a distant country estate might be the only aristocratic child for miles around. Socialising with children far below their lofty birth just was not done. Sending them to be fostered was the only logical solution.

  Unless you decide to spend time with the commoners instead, I thought. Rose was a common-born girl and she was my best friend. And she was a powerful magician. She might have been more powerful than either of my sisters, if she’d been trained from birth. But hardly anyone would do that outside school.

  Great Aunt Stregheria was still speaking. “Such an arrangement has many advantages for the parents as well,” she added. She sounded faintly amused. “Quite apart from being free of their little darlings for several years, save for the occasional home visit, they gain access to a network of society patrons and clients who are willing to promote them to the king.”

  “We are aware of the tradition,” my mother said, flatly. Her voice was toneless, but I knew from bitter experience that that meant she was angry. “Is there a point to this discussion?”

  I blinked. Mum was rarely so rude. She must be really upset.

  Great Aunt Stregheria looked back at her, then at me.

  “Isn't it obvious?” Her eyes bored into mine. I looked away. “I would like to foster Caitlyn in Tintagel.”

  Chapter Three

  My mouth dropped open in shock.

  I had never considered, not even in my wildest dreams, that I would be fostered. There was no real benefit to fostering a city-born child, although I knew that some children from Shallot had been fostered in Tintagel. And my lack of magic ensured that I would only shame more of my relatives if I had been sent to the capital. There had been times when I’d expected to be banished to the country, but that would have been different. People wouldn’t have asked too many questions if I’d been sent to a distant estate and told to stay there.

  My heart started to pound in terror. I didn't want to be sent away. I didn't want to be fostered. And I certainly didn't want to live with Great Aunt Stregheria. My parents had been strict at times - and too lenient at others - but I had never really doubted that they loved me. Great Aunt Stregheria didn't love me - or anyone else, as far as I could tell. None of us, not even Alana, came up to her standards. The thought of spending my days trapped with the old crone was nightmarish.

  “I know everyone in the capital,” Great Aunt Stregheria said, turning her attention back to my father. “Caitlyn would be introduced to everyone, her talents put to work for the good of the kingdom and the family. She would move in the highest circles, wanting for nothing. I would see to it that her name is on everyone’s lips.”

  Alana made a strangled sound. My mother shot her a look that silenced her as effectively as any freeze spell.

  I barely noticed. My body was frozen, held in place by fear. I was painfully aware that my mouth was still open, yet I couldn't close it. My parents wouldn't send me to the capital, would they? Not with Great Aunt Stregheria? And yet, I knew that the old woman was right about the possible advantages. A strong family presence in Tintagel would be very useful to us in the future ...

  Except this isn't about me or the family, I thought, numbly. It’s about her.

  “She would have a suite - a whole wing - of her own,” Great Aunt Stregheria assured my parents. “There would be servants and tutors, all trained to prepare her for entry at the very highest level of society; she would be
surrounded by friends who would ease her into the social scene. She would be presented to the king and ...”

  “I wouldn't make that decision without consulting my daughter,” Dad said. He sounded oddly amused, although there was a hard edge to his voice. I’d always had the feeling that he disliked his aunt, even though he was very polite to her. But then, he’d often told us that we sometimes needed to be polite to people we didn't like. “And she is quite young.”

  “Youngsters have been fostered from five before,” Great Aunt Stregheria pointed out. She spoke as though it was a done deal, as though my agreement and theirs was little more than a formality. “It would be shameful indeed if she waited until she was nineteen before being presented to the king.”

  I shivered. Traditionally, young aristocratic girls were presented at court when they came of age to marry, although I’d assumed I would never make my debut. My lack of magic shamed my family. Who would want to marry a girl who couldn't cast a single spell? And besides, I rather doubted my father would take a few weeks off to travel to the capital, just to present his daughters to the court. He was important enough that he didn't need to bother.

  “We had always intended to allow our daughters to make their debut when they came of age,” my mother said. The warning in her voice was clear, if Great Aunt Stregheria cared to hear. “They do not have to be presented at court or introduced to His Majesty before then.”

  “No,” Great Aunt Stregheria agreed. “But the sooner Caitlyn is presented, the sooner she can take her place in society.”

  Alana shifted, but said nothing. Her face wasn't as immobile as she thought. I knew she was fuming, perhaps even planning something stupid. She had looked forward to the day she was presented at court, even if there were two other sisters to steal some of the limelight. Hearing Great Aunt Stregheria planning to present me ahead of time had to sting. It was rare - very rare - for anyone to be granted such an honour. And the only time I recalled it happening in my lifetime had been when the heir challenged his guardian for early emancipation, after his guardian had abused his position.

  “Caitlyn is a child,” my mother said, flatly. “And she has no reason to enter society ahead of time. We are still alive. Even if we died tomorrow, my family would assume guardianship until Caitlyn and her sisters came of age.”

  “Her talents make her important indeed,” Great Aunt Stregheria countered. “She must be properly prepared for her future role.”

  Dad’s scowl deepened. “And you feel you can prepare her?”

  “She will have the very best of tutors,” Great Aunt Stregheria said. “I will even take her with me, when I negotiate on behalf of the family. She will learn how to use her talents for us.”

  For you, I thought.

  “Cat cannot be unique,” Alana pointed out. “Even if there is something about her that cannot be duplicated by a magician, there will be others like her.”

  Great Aunt Stregheria smiled, humourlessly. “Can you make Objects of Power?”

  Alana lowered her eyes. “No.”

  I looked down at my empty plate. Alana was right. I couldn't be unique. The stories of the Thousand-Year Empire had included more Objects of Power than I could make in a thousand years. There had to be other Zeroes out there, somewhere. But finding them might be difficult. It would be easy, all too easy, to find people who had never cast a single spell, but still had a talent for magic. Rose hadn’t been found until she’d turned twelve.

  I’d been lucky, I realised dully. I’d been raised in a family where my lack of magic had been noticeable, but also where I’d been trained to do everything from calculate magical runic diagrams to brewing potions and forging artefacts. My family might just have hit the jackpot at million-to-one odds against. If I’d grown up on a farm, like Rose, my lack of magic might never have been noticed. No one would have cared if I couldn't start a fire with a single word.

  “Caitlyn,” Dad said. “Do you want to go with her?”

  I hesitated. Did I dare say no?

  Great Aunt Stregheria took my hesitation for indecision. “You will find that you have many more opportunities for using your talents in the capital,” she said. “And it will make you a very influential girl.”

  “And help you too,” I muttered.

  “Quite,” Great Aunt Stregheria said. Was that a glimmer of actual approval in her eye? It didn't seem likely. I was probably imagining it. “High Society is about trading favours, young lady. You help me and I will help you.”

  You’ll use me as a puppet, I thought.

  It made a distressing amount of sense. I was the only Zero - the only known Zero. Great Aunt Stregheria would praise me, use me ... and then discard me, when I had outlived my usefulness. I knew too much about High Society to feel comfortable in the capital. Shallot was a little more dignified, but there was still far too much back-biting and not-so-covert infighting as the various magical families fought for supremacy. And Great Aunt Stregheria was a mistress of it. She’d practically tie me to the forge and force me to churn out Objects of Power, using them as bargaining chips to raise her status.

  She would have a monopoly, I told myself. I would be too far from my parents for them to intervene. And the sky would be the limit.

  “There is much I could do for you,” Great Aunt Stregheria added. “I have connections to many of the greatest families. It would be easy to arrange a match between you and a suitable young man of noble blood, when you come of age.”

  Alana made a choking noise. Beside her, Bella had an unconvincing coughing fit. Alana had told me - they’d both told me - that I would never get married. Who would want to marry a girl without magic? The lack of magic might be catching. And yet ...

  “I am too young to get married,” I mumbled. I had four years until I came of age. Even then, there was no guarantee I’d get married at once. My parents had been in their twenties when they’d married. My sisters - and I - were aristocrats. Any prospective match would have to be carefully scrutinised by both sets of parents before they gave their approval. Marriage in haste, we’d been told, inevitably led to repenting at leisure. “I can't even ...”

  “We could discuss betrothals,” Great Aunt Stregheria said. “I believe ...”

  “No,” Mum said, flatly.

  I shot her a grateful look. I knew there were girls and boys who were betrothed from birth, but the custom had been slowly going out of fashion. My parents had discussed such issues with us, during their endless and boring etiquette lessons, yet they’d made it clear that we would have a say in who we married. And a betrothal could cause legal problems, if a grown child decided they didn't want to go through with it. There were families in the city that were still feuding over broken betrothals that had taken place hundreds of years ago.

  “As you wish,” Great Aunt Stregheria said. She looked displeased, just for a second. “But there are many other benefits I could offer. You would have friends ...”

  “I have a friend here,” I protested. It was true. Rose was the first real friend I’d had, perhaps my only one. I’d managed to get on well with Akin Rubén, but I was all too aware that his family and mine were long-term enemies. And I’d humiliated his sister too. I didn't know how he’d react to that. “I don't want to leave her.”

  “A common-born girl,” Great Aunt Stregheria said. Her lips twisted into a cold sneer. “A decent magician, perhaps, but hardly the right sort of companion for a girl of the very highest blood. You should be surrounded by girls from your circle, girls who can educate you in the social graces ...”

  I winced. Like Isabella? Or like Alana?

  “Your ... friend ... can come along as your maid, perhaps,” Great Aunt Stregheria said. She looked, just for a moment, if she’d sniffed something disgusting. “It is all a person like her is suited for ...”

  “Rose is my friend,” I snapped. The hot flash of anger surprised me. Rose had stood by me even when it would have ruined her time at school. I wouldn't have blamed her if she’d attached h
erself to Isabella or one of the other well-born students, the girls who could have taught her how to use her magic through example. What did I have to offer her? “She isn’t a servant!”

  “She is a common-born girl with no prospects,” Great Aunt Stregheria said, bluntly. “What will happen to her when she graduates? She will not find a decent position, let alone a decent match, because she is lowly-born. She has no dowry, nothing to entice a suitor; she has no patron, no one who will shepherd her career. She is alone in the world.”

  “She has me.” I fought to control my anger. It wasn't easy. Insults directed at me were meaningless - I’d been called so many awful things that I was used to it - but Rose? Rose was my friend. “And you think that I will be important.”

  Great Aunt Stregheria lifted her eyebrows. “Do you think you will be doing her a favour by patronising her?”

  I glared. “Yes.”

  “You will not,” Great Aunt Stregheria said. “And you will certainly not be doing yourself a favour. One must choose one’s clients carefully.”