“You won’t,” Mum said. She gave me a smile. “We understand the problem now, dear heart. And we can learn to compensate for it.”
“And find others,” I said. I looked towards the thicket of close-knit trees, unwilling to meet her eyes. The opal garden was hidden behind the trees ... a grim reminder that there were some things I would never be able to do. But it also offered a simpler way to find more people like me. “And who knows what will happen then?”
Mum offered me the last sandwich, then started to munch on a hard-boiled egg. “The world will change,” she said. “And the family will, as always, prosper.”
I took another sip of ginger. “I want to go back to school,” I said. “And I don’t want to go back to school. Is that normal?”
“I was born in Pontefract,” Mum said. She jabbed a finger northwards. “For me, travelling to Shallot for my education was an experience. But I was also homesick, because even if I did manage to get out of the school there was no way to get home in a hurry. My guardians were kind enough, I suppose, but they didn't really understand me.”
I looked up. “You were fostered?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Mum said. “My parents had a friend in Shallot. They gave him and his wife guardianship, just in case something happened that needed urgent attention. It wasn't bad, but ... they weren't my parents. And I didn't live with them, save for the occasional weekend. I can't say they ever really used their authority.”
“Ouch,” I said. I couldn't help feeling sorry for her. If I’d left Jude’s, I could have walked straight home. “What happened to them?”
“They died shortly after I married,” Mum said. She looked sombre for a moment. “They never had children of their own. I was the closest thing to a child they had - and they didn’t really have me. They--” her lips twitched “--probably decided that I was too much work.”
“You must have been naughty all the time,” I said, mischievously.
“I was a very studious child,” Mum said, primly. “My parents often had to chase me out of the house, just to force me to get some exercise.”
“That’s not what grandmother says,” I countered. “She said you only studied so much because you were grounded all the time.”
Mum smiled. “Grandchildren exist to allow grandparents to extract revenge on their children,” she said, wryly. Her face fell. “My guardians barely knew me, to be honest. I was surprised when they remembered me in their will.”
I blinked. “They did?”
“I was left a number of books,” Mum confirmed. “You can find them in the library, if you wish.”
“Oh,” I said. That was a surprise. Books, particularly ones produced before the printing press had been invented, were worth far more than their weight in gold. Mum’s guardians must have thought very highly of her. Unless they really hadn't had anyone closer to them who might inherit. “I’ll look for them when I have a moment.”
“Not for a while, I think,” Mum said. She packed up the picnic basket, then rose. “Shall we get back to work?”
“Yes, Mum,” I said. “How much more is there to do?”
Mum gave me an evil smile. “Guess.”
Chapter Seven
“I hope you have enjoyed your unexpected holiday,” my father said, as he surveyed the dinner table. “It will not happen again.”
I kept my face expressionless as Alana and Bella groaned. A week off school probably wouldn't hurt their grades, not when they were already well ahead of a good third of their classmates. It wouldn’t hurt Alana, at least. My sister might be a spiteful bully on her best day, but there was nothing wrong with her magic. She probably had some of the best grades in the year.
“They’ll be looking forward to us coming back,” Alana said, seriously. She shot me a taunting look. “My friends keep asking what happened to me.”
Because you’re the head of your little gang, I thought. Alana’s name and position had ensured she had a gaggle of giggling cronies surrounding her at all times, once she’d gone to school. Isabella had had a gang too. And if the head goes away for too long, the gang will go away too.
“Pulling you out of school was the best of a set of bad options,” Dad continued. “It was important that none of you were in a position to make the rumours worse.”
“Hah,” Bella muttered.
“You’ll be going back tonight, then resuming classes tomorrow,” Dad added, ignoring her. “I hope that you will take the time to reflect on your duty to the family, as well as yourselves.”
I peered around the family room as the maids brought in the first course. It was far more comfortable than the formal ballroom, although Great Aunt Stregheria would probably have considered it too undignified for her magnificence. A large fire burned merrily in the grate, a sofa and three armchairs were perched against the walls and lanterns hung from the ceiling, casting brilliant light over the scene. The portraits on the walls showed us, from birth to our last birthday. I couldn't help reflecting that we'd changed a great deal over the years.
Alana was looking at me, her gaze hooded. I wondered, suddenly, just what Dad had said to her while I’d been working in the garden. She hadn't said anything to me since Great Aunt Stregheria had stormed out, not even her usual mockery. And she hadn't tried to hex me either. It made me more than a little paranoid. Alana was bright enough to think of a way to get around my protections, if she put her mind to it. I was sure she was planning something.
We ate slowly, savouring every bite. The food at Jude’s wasn't bad, but the school cooks were trying to feed over a thousand pupils. Henry and his apprentices only had to please the five of us. They could afford to take their time to craft a truly excellent dinner. The hunter’s chicken was perfect, the mashed potatoes fluffy with a hint of cheese, the vegetables coated in something that made us want to eat them ... I finished my plate and held it out for seconds. I definitely wouldn't eat so well at Jude’s.
“I will be inspecting your grades, come winter,” Dad said, as he placed his knife and fork on his plate. “I will not be pleased if your grades do not meet my standards.”
Bella winced. I felt a flicker of sympathy. Even if she worked hard for the next two months, it was unlikely she could bring up her grades in time for the winter holidays. Dad was not going to be pleased, even if there was a good chance she could keep herself from having to repeat the year. Her tutors probably already had a good impression of just how lazy she could be.
“My grades are excellent, Dad,” Alana said, airily. “I won’t have to repeat a year.”
“And I will be very displeased if that turns out to be an empty boast,” Mum said. She signalled the maid to bring in the pudding. “I do not want to have to arrange summer tutoring for you.”
Alana looked downcast, just for a second. For once, we were in perfect agreement. Summers were for playing games, for trying to forget that there was such a place as school. Dad had even promised to take us to the country estate, if we passed all of our exams. A summer of horse-riding, swimming in the lake and hiking through the cool mountains sounded very good to me. Alana probably felt the same way too.
And no one wants to spend their summers cooped up in a classroom, reviewing the material again and again, I thought. I’d learned to dread summer tutoring before I’d gone to boarding school. The tutors my parents had hired had been good, masters of their craft, but they’d been working with very poor material. We have to pass our exams.
“Cat cannot pass her exams,” Alana pointed out. “She can't cast a single spell without help.”
“We’ll take that into account,” Dad promised. “And so will her tutors.”
“But that won’t count,” Alana insisted. “How can she be a magician if she doesn't have magic?”
I felt my temper rise and forced it down, remorselessly. “I might not get a high grade in practical magic,” I said. I probably couldn’t, even though I did very well with theoretical magic. “But does it actually matter?”
; “No one asks an apothecary for his charms grade,” Bella added.
Alana blinked in surprise. I felt the same way too. It was rare, very rare, for Bella to challenge Alana. I could count the number of times it had happened on the fingers of one hand. Bella had magic, unlike me, but she couldn't hold a torch to Alana. Alana would have no trouble hexing her into next week, if push came to shove.
“That is true,” Dad agreed. “A single low grade doesn't make you a failure.”
“How true,” Mum commented. “I saw your potions grade.”
Dad smiled, rather dryly. I kept my thoughts to myself. Dad’s potion grades had been average, but his charms and defence grades had gone through the roof. Alana had a great deal to live up to, if she wished to impress her defence tutors. Mum hadn't done badly in either charms or defence, but potions had been her first love.
And I can’t defend myself without Objects of Power, I thought. I’d better be very careful in the shower.
I touched my sore ear as Dad launched into a long lecture on what one could and couldn’t do with the various grades. It hadn't burnt that badly - and I’d rubbed salve on the burn as soon as I’d left the table - but it was clear the earrings would need to be improved. Great Aunt Stregheria had cursed me so hard that the earring had been damaged, perhaps completely burnt out. I didn't want to think about what might have happened if she’d tried to curse me again, before Dad had ordered her to leave.
They have to be touching my skin, I reminded myself. I could lower the gemstones and their protective filigree a little, I thought, but that might risk losing the effect. Perhaps I should just stick with the simplest design. They might not reflect any incoming spell back at the caster, but they would last longer. I’ll have to do some more experiments.
Lucy put a cake in front of me. I gaped at it in surprise. Vanilla sponge cake - my favourite - crammed with whipped cream and raspberry jam. A birthday cake? It wasn't my birthday ... and, in any case, I shared my birthday with my sisters. I had never liked my birthdays ...
“It is customary to celebrate when a child shows the first sign of magic,” my father said, into the silence. “And what you have shown definitely counts as magic.”
Alana opened her mouth, probably to say something cutting, but Dad fixed her with a look that would have intimidated Sir Griffons. My sister shut her mouth with a snap. Beside her, Bella was eying the cake eagerly. It might not be her favourite, but she’d eat it anyway. I had often thought, I reflected as I picked up the knife, that Bella was lucky that she was only a little pudgy. She just didn't get enough exercise.
I cut a reasonably-sized slice, placed it on a plate and passed it to Dad. By tradition, the head of the house had to be offered the first slice. Dad made a show of inspecting it, then passed the plate to Mum. She smiled back at him as I cut the next set of slices. Alana took hers with a sharp nod, while Bella was eager to start eating. I could practically see her salivating as I cut the final two slices.
“You may take the remainder back to school with you,” Mum said, as I moved the cake into the centre of the table. “I’m sure your friends will enjoy it.”
My one friend, I thought. Unless I counted Akin too. But he might not trust something that had come out of our kitchens. There isn't enough for the entire dorm.
I sighed as I started to eat my slice. There were nine girls in the dorm, all of whom knew - now - that I couldn't cast a single spell. They no longer doubted, they no longer believed I was a late bloomer ... they knew I didn't have magic. And yet, I had a talent of my own. Who knew how they’d treat me? Perhaps I should share out the cake, but there wasn't enough left to give all nine a reasonably-sized piece.
And, by tradition, I have to share anything eaten in the dorm, I reminded myself. Jude’s traditions were set in stone. A student who abused the code of honour would be shunned and abhorred by everyone else. Thankfully, some of the traditions worked in my favour. But I’d need more cake.
“This is very good,” Bella said, as she finished her slice. “Can I have some more?”
“I think not,” Mum said, firmly. She eyed Bella, warningly. “I really do hope you pass your exams.”
Because then we could spend hours in the mountains, walking from place to place, I thought, wryly. Mum would stand behind Bella with a whip, if she tried to be lazy over the summer holidays. And Alana won’t be happy either, if we don’t get to go.
“Your trunks have already been returned to the school,” Dad said. I wasn't sure why he’d bothered to have them sent home in the first place. “Go to your rooms and change into your uniforms, then meet me in the entrance hall. And do try not to be late.”
I rose and hurried out the room, trusting that Mum would ensure that the cake was wrapped up and placed in a protective box for the journey. Alana followed me, but did nothing as we hurried up the stairs and into our rooms. I frowned as I stepped into my room and closed the door behind me. She was definitely up to something. But what?
The uniform, freshly cleaned and pressed, lay on the bed where one of the maids had left it. I felt oddly wistful, even though I’d hated the uniform the first time I’d worn it. A black skirt, reaching all the way down to my ankles; black shoes, shining under the light; a black shirt, a black blazer ... a single white band wrapped around my right arm, marking me out as a first-year student. Other than that, everything was black.
I still look like a professional mourner, I thought, as I changed into the uniform. It felt normal, after having worn it for several weeks. I no longer felt ridiculous as I posed in front of the mirror, making sure everything was perfect. All I need is the funeral.
Someone had folded a cloak at the end of the bed. I threw it over my shoulder - there was no point in wearing it unless it was raining outside - and then picked up my bag. I’d made more than just the sword over the last few days, including a handful of Objects of Power that should make life at school a little easier. It was a shame, I reflected, that there was no way to miniaturise the spectacles, although I had managed to create a monocle. But it kept falling out every second minute.
I sighed, then took one last look around the room. It had been bare, only a few short months ago. Now, it was as finely-decorated as Alana or Bella’s room. My parents had promised me that I would have a fine room, as soon as I cast my first spell. I couldn't help thinking as though I’d failed in some way, even though my talents were far more useful than either of my sisters’ magic. Alana could spend the rest of her life in front of a forge, if she wished. It wouldn't let her craft an Object of Power.
The clock chimed, warningly. I turned and walked out of the room, closing the door behind me. I didn't bother to lock it. There was nothing in the room I wanted to keep secret, if only because I’d long since learnt how dangerous it could be to hide anything in a room my sisters tried to search every so often. Besides, the maids would need to clean it while I was at school. I just hoped they wouldn't mess up the bookshelves when they returned my books to the shelf.
My father was standing at the bottom of the stairs, wearing his formal cloak and holding a box under one arm. Alana was standing next to him, looking sullen. I joined them and waited, in silence, until Mum and Bella walked down the stairs and nodded to Dad. Mum checked our appearances, gave us all one last hug goodbye, then watched as we walked out of the hall and down the driveway.
“It's dark,” Bella whined.
I rolled my eyes. Beside me, Alana snorted rudely. Dark or not, only a complete lunatic would dare to attack my father. His formal robes alone marked him out as a high-ranking member of Magus Court, which meant he was a powerful magician. And my sisters might have been young, but they were formidable too. I’d been told the streets of South Shallot were dangerous, yet few footpads dared venture into North Shallot. The City Guard would chase them out, if they weren't transfigured into toads by outraged residents first.
The air smelt of fish and brine as it wafted in from the harbour, down in Water Shallot. It made me feel wistful as we
walked down the darkened streets. I’d dreamed of travelling, once upon a time, although my real motive had been more to escape my family than to see new places. My family owned several trading ships, but the crews needed magic to steer. I had always assumed that I’d never be able to join a crew. Female sailors, with or without a certain level of magic, were rare.
I saw a gaggle of young men emerge from a tavern as we reached the bridge and crossed the river. They chatted loudly amongst themselves, their words drifting on the air. I thought they were sailors, for a moment, before realising that they were students. Upperclassmen, then; upperclassmen who’d somehow escaped Jude’s wards and gone out for a night on the town. My father sniffed in disapproval, but said nothing. Sneaking out over the walls was an old tradition, one that had never been snuffed out. The iron railings on the walls - designed to make life difficult for any would-be escapees - presented the sort of challenge that the school board felt built character.
The Zero Curse Page 7