The Zero Equation

by Christopher Nuttall

  The classroom was empty, I discovered as I stepped through the door. A handful of sketchy recipes sat on Magistra Loanda’s desk, waiting for her inspection. I wanted to take a look - and see what Rose had done - but I didn't dare. If I got caught ... I glanced at the rear door, then hurried into the corridor. There was no sign of Rose or anyone else. They’d probably gone to lunch. Bella might just have invited Rose to join her ...

  I winced, feeling a tinge of bitter jealousy. Again. I’d thought I was done with it. Rose wasn't my exclusive friend, was she? I didn't mind her being friends with Akin ... but Bella was my sister. And my sisters had always taken whatever they wanted for themselves.

  Rose isn't a doll, I told myself, firmly. Grandma had given me a doll when I turned seven, a doll Alana had stolen and then destroyed a couple of weeks later. And Bella isn't going to hurt her.

  I was being stupid. I knew I was being stupid. And selfish. And mean. I was behaving just like Alana. But ... I still felt jealous.

  My stomach rumbled. I glanced at my watch. I only had thirty minutes to eat something before I had to go to my next class. I forced myself to walk along the corridor, trying to convince myself that it was going to be fine. Rose wasn't going to dump me now she was on speaking terms with Bella. Rose ... was a good person, better than me. She was my friend. But it was hard, somehow, to believe it. I’d lost too much in my life. I felt a stab of envy for Ayesha and Zeya McDonald. At least they didn't spend half their lives feuding with their sisters ...

  ... And then I heard someone cry out in pain.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  I hesitated, just for a moment. Someone was in trouble, but who? And did I want to get into more trouble myself by trying to help? Being alone wasn't wise, not now. The normal rules seemed to have flown straight into the dustbin. And yet ... I heard another cry of pain and outrage, a strikingly familiar cry. Ice ran down my spine. It was Alana. It had to be Alana.

  A multitude of thoughts ran through my head. I could just turn and walk away. I could ... I sighed and slipped forward, moving as quietly as a mouse. I’d plenty of experience sneaking around the hall, after all. The sound grew louder as I reached the corner and peeped around, ready to yank my head back in a flash. But no one noticed me. They were focused on Alana.

  I stared, torn between horror and an odd kind of grim satisfaction. Alana floated in the air, upside down; one hand desperately holding her skirt in place even as she tried to use the other to cast a counterspell. There were four older students surrounding her, three girls and a boy; one of the girls was pointing a focusing device at Alana, holding her bobbling helplessly in the air. Another made snatching motions at her braids, threatening to grab hold and pull them down. The other two laughed and jeered. I felt sick, flashing back to the times when Alana had levitated me into the air. She hadn't known it, but she could have easily killed me when the spell lost power and I fell.

  Alana was terrified. She was so scared she wasn't even trying to hide it. I didn't blame her, either. I didn't recognise the four students, but the fine cut of their uniforms indicated they were aristocrats. Alana might be years ahead of Rose in magical training, yet ... the upperclassmen outmatched her effortlessly. And there were four of them. It wouldn't be long before they got bored, turned her into something unnoticeable, and just walked away.

  I didn't know what to do. No one had seen me. I could just turn around and go. Alana deserved a taste of her own medicine, didn't she? She’d been horrible to me ever since it became clear I had no magic, piling humiliation after humiliation on me and threatening more when she succeeded Dad as Matriarch. And yet ... her whimpering chilled me more than I cared to admit. Four upperclassmen against one lowly lowerclassman was very far from fair.

  And what she did to you wasn't fair either, a voice whispered at the back of my head. Why not let her see what it feels like from the inside?

  I couldn't move. I wanted to go, I wanted to help ... I wasn't sure what I felt. They were bullying her ... the entire school would hear about it, soon enough. And then Alana’s reputation would plunge until it was lower than Isabella’s. And then ... normally, the upperclassmen would be in serious trouble for picking on a lowerclassman. The Castellan would expel them on the spot. But now ...

  Part of me wanted her to suffer. But the rest of me wanted to step forward and help.

  I struggled with my conscience, trying to decide what to do. If it had been Rose or Akin, I would have walked forward without hesitation. I might even have risked public humiliation - or worse - for Bella. But for Alana ... I looked down at the stone floor, not liking what I saw in myself. She’d been horrible to me, but that didn't mean I should take pleasure in her suffering ... did it?

  No, I told myself, firmly. Me making Alana pay for years of torment was one thing. I had every intention of turning the tables on her, every time she tried to hex me. But I wasn't going to let someone else do it. And besides, it won’t help the family.

  I sighed, inwardly. Dad had told me that his schooldays had followed him for the rest of his life. I hadn't understood, not until now. Everyone who was anyone went to Jude’s. By the time we graduated, we’d know everyone in our generation and probably everyone two or three years older than us. People would be talking about Alana’s humiliation for the rest of her life, the story growing in the telling. She didn't deserve that, did she?

  Yes, part of me said. She does deserve it.

  But the rest of me disagreed. I looked down at my shaking fingers, wishing I hadn't learned that about myself. There was a bit of me that wanted to humiliate my sister - or to watch others humiliate her - but I didn't want to let it loose. I couldn't let it loose. Alana yelped in pain as one of the girls hit her with a stinging hex, slamming it right into her leg. Another stuck her arm, dispelling the magic she’d been trying to muster. I wondered, absently, just what she was thinking. If she dispelled the levitation spell, she’d fall and hit her head.

  And that thought decided me. I drew the dispeller and spellcaster from my belt and, holding one in each hand, walked around the corner. I held my head up high, trying to project the same calm confidence that Mum and Dad strove to project in public gatherings. They were my social inferiors, not my superiors. I had to keep telling myself that, time and time again. I dared not show fear ...

  “Put her down,” I ordered. “Gently.”

  The girl who was casting the levitation spell turned to look at me. I didn't recognise her, but the long beaky nose and chocolate skin marked her as belonging to House Wakefield. My heart sank as she eyed me silently, her dark eyes lingering on my spellcaster for a long moment. House Wakefield was a close ally of House Rubén. And her hair was hanging down, indicating she’d already had her Season. She wasn’t going to let me intimidate them so easily.

  She smiled, cruelly. “Well,” she said. “It looks like we caught both of you.”

  Her hand snapped down. A stinging hex blossomed out of her fingertips and flashed towards me. I held the spellcaster and dispeller aside, allowing the spell to strike me in the chest and break apart into a shower of multicoloured sparks. Their eyes went wide as they realised their spells wouldn't affect me. I hoped it would be enough to make them think twice.

  “Put her down,” I repeated. “Now.”

  The boy jabbed a finger at me. A translucent spell danced through the air. I didn't recognise it - I kicked myself, mentally, for not putting on the spectacles before letting them see me - so I held up the dispeller, breaking the spell apart and absorbing the magic before it could test my protections still further. A tingle ran down my fingertips, a droll reminder that the spell had been very powerful indeed. A Device of Power would have shattered if it had tried to dispel so much concentrated power.

  I pointed the spellcaster at the girl. “Now.”

  The girl shrugged and snapped her fingers. Alana fell, her mouth opening in a silent scream before she jerked to a halt, an inch about the ground. She put out her hand, just in time to land roughly on
the floor. A spell struck her a second later, pinning her hand and feet to the stone. She could barely move. I doubted she could muster the slightest spell.

  “Happy now?” The girl’s voice mocked me. “Would you like to know what we can do to you?”

  I tensed. Sandy had shown one way to get around my protections. Someone else could do the same ... or merely collapse the roof onto my head. I didn't think they’d go so far, but they’d already crossed the line. I couldn't see House Rubén being that pleased with their conduct. Their Heir Primus was a firstie too.

  “Your spells can't touch me,” I said, evenly. Sweat ran down my back. It was hard, so hard, to keep my voice from shaking. “I have protections.”

  “There’s four of us,” the girl said. She glanced at her friends. The boy looked ready to fight, but the other two girls seemed a little more hesitant. “All we have to do is jump you.”

  That was unfortunately true. I refused to show my sudden fear on my face.

  I met her eyes as I held up the spellcaster. “Do you know what this is?”

  Doubt flickered on her face, just for a second. “An Object of Power.”

  “An Object of Power that happens to be a spellcaster,” I told her. “A Frogmaker, to be precise.”

  She froze. She’d heard of Frogmaker, of course. Everyone had. It was a legendary Object of Power that turned its victims into frogs, permanently. No magician could make a transfiguration spell last forever, not without a Device of Power, and even then the spell could be undone. But Frogmaker? Its victims stayed frogs, no matter what spells and counterspells were cast. I had the feeling that nothing, short of stripping the magic out of the air, would be enough to return them to humanity. I was used to being transformed without warning, thanks to my sisters, but Frogmaker scared even me. The idea of never being human again ...

  The girl found her voice. “You couldn't have made a Frogmaker.”

  I rolled my eyes. “The plans are available in the workroom,” I said, in my best “you are stupid” voice. That was actually true. “And it really isn't a very complicated device. You just have to be a Zero to forge it. Why would I not?”

  The four exchanged glances. They weren't quite convinced, I saw, but they were uncertain of themselves. I could practically read their thoughts. They were trying to decide if they could jump me before I triggered the spellcaster ... and yet, they didn’t know what would happen if they laid a finger on me. There were Objects of Power that were designed to do more than just passively absorb magic. They might be blasted across the room or turned into toads just for touching me.

  I pointed the spellcaster at the girl. “I’d bet I can get at least two of you before you jump me,” I told her. “And the remaining two will not be able to take off my protections before I get them too.”

  “You might also get your sister,” the girl pointed out. Her voice was so even I knew she was keeping it under tight control. “Do you want to be responsible for that?”

  I made a motion with the spellcaster. “I’ll live.”

  There was a long pause, then the four slowly backed away. They tried to move slowly, but I heard them break into a run as soon as they were around the corner. I laughed, feeling suddenly weak at the knees. I’d been bluffing. The spellcaster would turn them into frogs, but the spell wouldn't have been permanent. I’d judged Frogmaker too dangerous to duplicate when there was a possibility of someone else being able to use it.

  Idiots, I thought. If they had jumped me ...

  Alana gasped. She was trying to cancel the spells holding her to the floor. I watched for a second, then knelt down and tapped the dispeller against the spells. They came apart in a shower of light, allowing her to sit back on her haunches. I caught a glimpse of a nasty mark on her leg before she smoothed down her skirt. Her arm was moving slowly, as if she was in pain. I thought she’d been hexed there too.

  “Cat,” Alana managed. Her voice was raspy. I wondered if she’d been screaming earlier. “I ... is that a real Frogmaker?”

  “It turns people into frogs,” I told her. Perhaps she wouldn't do anything stupid if she thought I could turn her into a frog permanently. Frogmaker was supposed to be able to blast through seven layers of personal protective wards. But then, I’d never heard of a magician who had more than one or two layers. At some point, the wards would make it impossible for him to cast spells himself. “Are you ... all right?”

  Alana glanced at me, then drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. I watched her, warily. She looked ... older, somehow. There was a bruise on her face too. I didn't think it was from our earlier fight. No, they’d jumped her and overpowered her and ... I had to fight to keep from throwing up. They wouldn't have let her go in a hurry, not after they’d crossed the line. Maybe they’d planned to take her down into the disused parts of the school and hide her there. Magister Von Rupert had told me there were dozens of little hidey-holes that belonged to older students hidden there. The staff turned a blind eye as long as the students were careful.

  And they could have kept the spell in place indefinitely, I thought. And with the wards falling apart, we might not have been able to find her.

  “I shouldn't have been alone,” Alana said. “I was ... I was tricked.”

  I tried to send her a reassuring look. “What happened?”

  “None of your business,” Alana said. “I ...”

  “I just saved your life,” I snapped at her. “Or do you think they were just going to give you lines when they tired of tormenting you?”

  Alana’s dark eyes flashed. “I’m the Heir Primus,” she said. “You have to do what I say!”

  I snorted. “Since when?”

  “Since Dad put me in charge,” Alana said. She tried to stand, but her legs refused to support her. “I’m the Heir Primus.”

  “Only by chance,” I said. I shook my head in disbelief. I understood the shame of admitting that you needed help, that you needed someone to rescue you, but ... I supposed I shouldn't have been too surprised. Ingratitude was practically Alana’s middle name. “If Bella had come out first, she’d be Heir Primus.”

  “Bella doesn't want to be Heir Primus,” Alana said. She tried to stand, again. This time, she succeeded. “And that leaves me in charge.”

  And you don’t count me because I have no magic, I thought. I looked down at the spellcaster, still resting in my hand. Didn't it occur to you that I could do other things?

  I shook my head as I stood. My talents required a forge, a supply of materials and freedom to work. Fairuza had proved just how easy it was to keep me under control, although she’d been unable to monitor me closely enough to prevent an escape. But if someone didn't want to use my talents for themselves, they could just lock me in a prison cell or chain me to the walls. I’d have no hope of escape.

  Alana turned and started to limp down the corridor. I hesitated, then called after her.

  “You need to go see the healer,” I told her. “You’re not in a good state.”

  “I can't show weakness,” Alana said. It would have been more impressive if I hadn't seen her grit her teeth against the pain. “If I don't go to class, everyone will know I was attacked.”

  I wasn't so sure. Alana might be Aguirre Heir Primus, but even so ... very few upperclassmen would care to gloat about attacking a firstie. The current chaos would end eventually, wouldn't it? And then there would be punishment. And ... even if the chaos never ended, or House Aguirre crashed into rubble, the upperclassmen would still have to live with the shame of being scared off by another mere firstie. I didn't think they’d want to tell that story.

  But I knew Alana would never accept that argument. She was too conceited to see herself as a mere anything. And she was, at least in her own mind, Heir Primus and the most accomplished spellcaster of her generation. She was too significant to see herself as a little girl.

  “They could have worked an advanced hex into the spells they used on you,” I reminded her, instead. “Something you’d miss,
at first. Something that would slowly spread through your magic, turning it against you. You need to go to the infirmary, now.”

  Alana stopped. “Fine,” she said, after a moment. “But you go to class.”

  My stomach rumbled. “I’d better get something to eat first,” I said. If she didn't want an escort, she didn't have to have one. I understood, better than I cared to admit. “And ...”

  I hesitated, then unclasped the earring from my ear and held it out to her. “You won’t be able to cast spells while wearing it, but it will protect you,” I said. Alana had had her ears pierced after she’d whined and moaned about me wearing earrings. Mum had not been pleased, but she’d conceded the point. “If someone else hexes you ...”

  Her eyes went wide with shock. “But ... what about you?”