The Family Shame

by Christopher Nuttall

  “I don’t think my uncle cares one whit about collecting taxes,” I said, more stiffly than I had intended. Kirkhaven didn’t seem to have anything worth taxing, save perhaps for the sheep, cows and goats. “And I certainly don’t care.”

  “They won’t know that,” Callam said, dryly. “They’re probably worrying about what will happen when you take over the estate.”

  I blinked. “Me? Take over the estate?”

  “You are in line, aren’t you?” Callam cocked his head. “Or are they wrong?”

  “Probably,” I said. If Uncle Ira died, I suspected the estate would go to Morag. I had no idea where she stood on the family tree, but I doubted anyone in Shallot cared enough to take it from her. Kirkhaven had been effectively abandoned long ago. After that … maybe it would go to me. If, of course, I was still here when they died. “I don’t intend to stay here that long.”

  “Ouch,” Callam said. It struck me that he’d miss me as much as I’d miss him. We were outcasts - outsiders - together. “I …”

  He shook his head. “Granny McVeigh might talk to us,” he said. “She’s the local hedge witch. She … isn’t exactly an outsider, but she isn’t exactly part of the community either.”

  I met his eyes. “Would she be able to answer our questions?”

  “She grew up here,” Callam said. He laughed, humourlessly. “On one hand, she’s an outcast; on the other, everyone goes to her when they need advice. I think they respect her and fear her in equal measure.”

  He shrugged. “But she’s certainly old enough to know the stories,” he added. “She might just talk to us.”

  “Then we’ll go,” I said. I looked back at the hall, hidden behind the trees. “When can we go?”

  Callam considered it. “Well, if you want to meet my family again, we can go tomorrow,” he said. “Unless there’s a reason you have to stay home.”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. I’d check with Morag, if I could figure out a way to ask without tipping her off that I was planning something, but I had the impression that Uncle Ira didn’t have guests very often. He was, after all, in exile. “I should be able to sneak down to the village tomorrow.”

  “I’ll meet you up here, then,” Callam said. He stood and stretched. “What shall we do now?”

  I dug the spellcaster out of my bag and held it out. “I made this for you,” I said. I was tempted to claim I made it from scratch, but Callam was probably sharp enough to realise that that wasn’t true. “It’s primed for a new user.”

  Callam took the spellcaster, eying it with fascination. “Will this allow me to work magic?”

  “Perhaps,” I said. “It’s designed to do as much of the work as possible.”

  I kept the other possibilities to myself. If Callam was a Zero, he’d need years of training before he could do anything with his talent; if he was merely a very low-power magician, he’d need focusing devices I couldn’t even begin to forge. Akin could have done it, but my brother might as well be on the other side of the world. I couldn’t write him a letter without having it read by a dozen prying eyes … and any one of them might decide that the letter shouldn’t be passed to my brother. Akin was too important, right now, for the Family Council to put in an awkward position.

  “I want to learn,” Callam said, bringing me out of my reverie. He held the spellcaster by the wrong end. “What do I do with it?”

  My lips twitched. “First, turn it around,” I said. I didn’t think anything would happen if he kept his fingers on the crystal, but I didn’t have that much faith in my forging skills. Akin had injured himself several times when he’d been learning the ropes. “And then wave it in the air.”

  Callam reversed the spellcaster, struck a dramatic pose and waved it. Nothing happened. I frowned, wondering - just for a second - if I saw a light in the crystal. But it seemed to be nothing more than reflected sunlight. Callam waved the spellcaster again and again desperately. I felt my heart sink at the look in his eyes. He wanted, he needed, magic. I might as well have taunted him with something he could never have …

  I felt a stab of guilt. I’d taunted Cat, hadn’t I? I’d rubbed her nose in her lack of magic, time and time again. I’d been a little brat who deserved far worse than to lose a duel she really should have won. And now … I wondered, grimly, if Cat would be advising Akin, if he became Patriarch, not to let me come home. She had every reason to hate me and none whatsoever to let bygones be bygones.

  “It isn’t working,” Callam said. He sounded despondent. “I … perhaps it’s broken.”

  I took the spellcaster back and waved it in the air. The crystal lit up, immediately. Callam let out a little sound and looked away, not letting me see his face. I turned my head, granting him what privacy I could. There was nothing wrong with the spellcaster. Callam simply didn’t have the magic needed to cast the spell.

  “There’s another possibility,” I said, carefully. I had no idea how to test for a complete lack of magic, but I was sure I could figure it out. “We could …”

  Callam shook his head. “I don’t want to know,” he said. “If I can’t do that, what can I do?”

  I swallowed. A Zero could do a great many things, with the proper training. But how could I confirm that Callam was a Zero? And then … and then what? Would he want to spend his life forging for the family? Or would he see it as nothing more than a form of imprisonment?

  And we don’t even know he is a Zero, I thought. He could just have very low magic.

  “I don’t know,” I said. I wished, with an intensity that surprised me, that I hadn’t been so horrible to Cat. She had to have been experimenting with her talents while we’d been sharing a dorm. Akin probably knew exactly what she’d done, but … I couldn’t write to him and ask. “We’ll figure it out.”

  Callam turned to face me. “Is there any point?”

  I reached out and rested my hand on his shoulder. “There could be.”

  He stepped back. “It doesn’t matter,” he said. He gave me a ghost of a smile. “But thank you for trying. You’re a good friend.”

  My heart ached. “There are other things we could try,” I said. “I’ll have to give it some thought.”

  My mind raced. The simplest solution would be to have Callam forge an Object of Power. But where could he forge anything? The wards along the boundary line might be old and frayed, too weak to notice that there were gaps in the defences, but I knew I couldn’t sneak him into the hall. Uncle Ira would be angry and Morag would be furious. They’d be within their rights to do anything to Callam, from simply kicking him out of the gates or turning him into one of the creepy statues we’d seen as we roamed the ground. I’d heard enough horror stories about what the family did to intruders, back in Shallot, to fear for Callam’s very life. I could easily see Morag doing something that would be impossible to reverse.

  “Forget it,” Callam said. He sat back down on the ground. “There’s no point in worrying about it.”

  I sat next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I said, gently. I meant it. Callam was the first person I’d ever met who’d shown me true friendship. He didn’t care about my House. He just cared about me. “What do you want to do? I mean, when you get your majority?”

  “I don’t know,” Callam admitted. He glanced at me, then looked away. “Dad’s taught me enough to teach myself, if I wished … well, everything apart from the magic. I could teach other children, but I don’t think I want to take a class of unwilling students. Dad has more patience than I’ll ever have.”

  “You’ll learn,” I said, reassuringly. “I’m not very patient either.”

  “I could try to do private tutoring, one to one,” Callam added, “but anyone who hired me for that would expect magic lessons too.”

  “I did have specialised teachers back home,” I told him. “They didn’t all teach me magic.”

  Callam looked at me. “What did they teach you?”

  “Too much and too little,
” I said, which earned me a raised eyebrow. “The first tutors taught me how to read, write and argue. They expected me to read the material and then use it to think. I got told off for simply parroting the material back to them. Then I had tutors in everything from history to languages and etiquette … all of whom stuck around long enough to ensure I learnt the basics and then moved on. They didn’t teach me magic.”

  “No?”

  “No,” I confirmed. “Father taught me magic.”

  “You must have found it easy,” Callam said. “You’re a great sorceress.”

  I felt an insane urge to giggle. I’d learnt a lot in the past seven years, ever since Father had put the first spellcaster in my hand, but I was nowhere near a great sorceress. Magistra Loanda or Magistra Solana could have thrashed me, effortlessly, if I’d been fool enough to challenge them to a duel. Sandy could probably have taught me a sharp lesson or two if I’d challenged her authority too openly. She might have treated me lightly because I was a Rubén, but that had its limits. Sandy couldn’t let me get away with openly cheeking her in front of the entire dorm.

  And Morag could hammer me into the ground, I thought. And Uncle Ira could probably do worse.

  “I’m not that great,” I said, putting the thought aside. “I thought … I think I still have a long way to go.”

  “You’ll get there,” Callam said. “Hart and Hound are the greatest spellcasters in the valley, save perhaps for Granny McVeigh. And you kicked them into the river.”

  “They know a handful of spells,” I said. I doubted either Hart or Hound could rewrite their spells on the fly. It wasn’t that hard to rewrite a frog transfiguration spell into a cow transfiguration spell, provided one knew the underlying principles. I could do it, with a little effort. “That doesn’t make them sorcerers.”

  “They’re always bragging about defeating apprentices in Caithness,” Callam said. “Are they lying?”

  “Probably,” I said. Caithness might not have a dedicated school of magic, although Jude’s wasn’t the only magic school in the kingdom, but any advanced school would certainly have a magic class. “Any of the first-year students I knew back home would be able to beat them, I think.”

  And they clearly weren’t powerful enough to merit a scholarship, I added, silently. I couldn’t imagine anyone refusing a scholarship if one was offered. Hart and Hound probably weren’t smart or perceptive enough to realise that they would be very small fry indeed in Shallot. I wonder what would have happened if they did go?

  “That’s impressive,” Callam said. “How far do you have to go?”

  I looked down at my hands. “I … I thought I’d get an apprenticeship, after seven years of schooling,” I said. Or get married first, but I wasn’t going to discuss that with him. “But now I’m not so sure.”

  It wasn’t a pleasant thought. Uncle Ira had said he could give me an apprenticeship, but it was becoming clear that he didn’t have my best interests in mind. I didn’t want to study forbidden books, even though part of me did want to read them. The books were practically calling to me. I told myself, firmly, that it was just my imagination. The thrill of doing something wrong should be tempered by the grim awareness that reading those books was really wrong. I wasn’t going to sneak into the kitchen to steal a snack an hour before a formal dinner.

  Although Mother would rank that as one of the worst possible offences in the world, I thought, wryly. A formal dinner required the host - and the host’s children - to neither eat too much or too little. If I ruined my appetite, I could count on my mother telling me that I’d ruined dinner. It isn’t a harmless little prank, is it?

  “I’m sure you’ll do well,” Callam said.

  I shrugged. Uncle Ira was about the only person who’d tutor me unless I changed my name and slipped across the border. And then … how would I prove I deserved a chance to take an apprenticeship? There would be plenty of students with actual paper qualifications. I might have to actually work for a master in exchange for tuition or … or I might simply not get a chance at all. And then … I had no idea what I’d do. I wasn’t suited to life outside High Society.

  “I hope so,” I said.

  Callam patted my back, awkwardly, then jumped to his feet. “Come on,” he said. “Race you to the stables.”

  I grinned as I stood. I’d been pretty good at running back home, but races - and games of catch - had always been warped by magic. And I’d had the feeling, more than once, that older cousins had let me win. Callam, on the other hand, never let me win. He was so fast - he actually jumped over streams I had to splash through - that I felt that my few victories were well-deserved. And it would have felt wrong to hex him in hopes of slowing him down.

  “I win,” he said, as he ran into the stables. “Shall we go again?”

  I forced myself to take deep breaths. “Maybe in a minute,” I said. “What time … what time do you want to meet tomorrow?”

  “Eleven?” Callam smiled. “Everyone should be in school or out in the fields by then.”

  “I’ll check with Morag,” I said. “But there shouldn’t be any problem.”

  Callam nodded, then reached out and tapped my shoulder. “You’re it,” he said. “Catch as catch can!”

  I laughed and gave chase.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “So you had no trouble?” Callam asked, the following morning. “They’re not hosting another dinner party?”

  I shrugged. “Apparently not,” I said. Morag had been in a grumpy mood all evening, stamping about like a bear with a horrible toothache, while Uncle Ira had been nowhere to be seen. “She was completely unconcerned about the prospect of me being late for dinner tonight.”

  “Good,” Callam said, as we started to walk towards the river. “What did you tell her?”

  “Just that I was planning to explore the northern edge of the grounds,” I said. “I thought I spotted some herbs last time we were there, so … well, it’s a good excuse to stay out for a long time.”

  Callam grinned. “Are you planning to start your own herbal garden?”

  “I might have to,” I said. “I still don’t understand why Uncle Ira never set one up himself.”

  “Maybe he thought that growing herbs was women’s work,” Callam said. He jabbed a finger down the valley, towards Kirkhaven Town. “That’s what they think down there.”

  “A Potions Master wouldn’t agree,” I said. “My father grows his own herbs.”

  I smiled at the thought. Father had certainly supervised the family’s herbal garden, although he hadn’t had time to do all the work himself. Any Potions Master worthy of the title would certainly want to be sure his ingredients were grown, picked and stored properly, particularly the ones that exploded if you looked at them funny. But then, those ingredients were rarely grown anywhere near a house. No one in their right mind would try to raise dragons in Shallot.

  Actually, no one in their right mind would try to raise dragons at all, I thought, as we reached the river and put on our wellies. They’re nasty beasts at the best of times.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask,” Callam said. “Is there a reason there’s a gap in the wards here?”

  I frowned. If Callam could sense the wards … did that mean he wasn’t a Zero? My heart started to sink, before I remembered that I’d certainly been able to hex Cat. Magic affected her, definitely. Callam might not have to be able to use magic to sense the wards and their effects.

  “I’m not sure,” I said. Running water affected some kinds of magic, but I didn’t think that wards were amongst them. “The wardstones might have been improperly placed.”

  We splashed our way onto the riverbank and took off our wellies. My trousers were damp, again, but it was warm enough that I didn’t feel like changing them. They’d dry before we reached the town. We concealed our wellies under a rock, then started to walk down the path. I couldn’t help feeling my heart lift as the sunlight grew brighter. The rain and fog seemed a very distant memory.


  “It’s starting to look nice up here,” I said. “How long will it last?”

  Callam laughed. “Just long enough to convince you to drop your guard,” he said. “The first year we were here, autumn was lovely. And then the snow fell so heavily that we almost starved to death. Dad had to pay through the nose to keep the family fed. There was no hope of getting out of the valley, let alone to Caithness, until spring. After that … well, let’s just say we learnt a few lessons about keeping plenty of supplies in the house.”

  I winced. I’d seen snow in Shallot - I still smiled at the memory of an older cousin animating snowmen and ordering them to chase us around the grounds - but it hadn’t been that bad. Here, it could be a great deal worse. I wondered if I’d wind up stuck in the hall with Uncle Ira and Morag, unable even to go outside. It would be an utter nightmare … I shivered, despite the warm summer air. I hoped Callam would still be able to make it up to the hall if everything froze.

  “Ouch,” I said. “I hope it’s not that bad this year.”

  Callam snorted. “It will be,” he said. “Count on it.”

  We stopped at the outskirts of town and took a different path, circumventing the town rather than walking through it. I was struck, again, by the odd contrast between the grey stone buildings and the barren hillsides. Patches of trees and gorse bushes could be seen everywhere, but the hills still looked bare. I wondered, absently, where the stone actually came from. There had to be a quarry somewhere nearby, but where?

  “She lives up here,” Callam said, as we found a path leading up the hillside. Gorse bushes closed in, making it harder to look around. They looked so prickly that I resolved never to touch them. “I … stay quiet and look away.”

  I blinked, then heard footsteps coming down the path. A red-haired girl came into view a moment later, her face going as red as her hair when she saw us. I met her eyes, just for a second, then looked away. She couldn’t be more than a year or two older than me.