I inched forward and peered into the cauldron. The base was covered in a sluggish brown liquid that appeared to be nothing more than mud. I poked it gingerly, but nothing happened. I guessed the surge had come too fast, eating up all the magic in less than a second instead of triggering the transformation. Shaking my head, I picked up the last stirrer and checked it carefully. There was no sign there was anything wrong with it. Perhaps the instructions had been deliberately altered.
Or it might have been a mistake, I thought, ruefully. Whoever wrote the book copied the wrong detail down or transposed their figures or something.
It wasn't impossible. There were quite a few ancient tomes that were clearly copies of copies, with the original spells and potion recipes written down in a hurry. Dad had told me that some of the books even included spells that were nothing more than sheerest fantasy. They weren't just altered, they were unworkable. Perhaps there was a key to unlocking the hidden truth behind them, as many researchers had speculated, or ... maybe they’d just wanted to waste someone’s time. Anyone who wanted to cast a Spell of Unlimited Power would cause less trouble if they were wasting their time trying to get an unworkable spell to work, rather than finding a more effective way to gain power.
And it would probably work, I thought. If Alana had been prepared to risk curses as she sneaked into Dad’s private collection, I had no doubt a warlock would take equal or greater risks in his bid for power. It would ...
The ground shook. I threw myself to the hard ground instinctively, covering my head with my hands before quite realising what had happened. The cauldron hadn't exploded. I would have been screaming in pain - or dead - if it had. And yet ... I rolled over and stood as I heard someone scream. The explosion had been in the classroom! I hurried to the door, just in time to see Magistra Loanda cast a stasis spell on Bella and float her over to the door. Her face was badly scarred.
Magistra Loanda passed Bella to a pair of passing upperclassmen, with strict orders to take her directly to the healers, then turned back to the class. The look she gave us - even me - was so cold that I shivered. It made me feel guilty, even though I didn't know what had happened. Bella had been injured, but ... but how?
“When I find out who cursed her potion,” Magistra Loanda said, in a voice so icy that I half-expected our potions to freeze instantly, “I will have that person expelled.”
I shivered, again, as Magistra Loanda’s eyes passed over me. I knew I was innocent. She had to know I was innocent. And yet ... part of me quailed under her gaze. The class seemed to draw back as she looked at them, like mice confronting an angry cat. Old she might be, but Magistra Loanda was powerful - and angry. We were in deep - deep - trouble.
“This is one of the most dangerous classes in school,” Magistra Loanda said. Her voice was still cold. “It does not have to be more dangerous. Who did it?”
We all cringed. None of us would tattle, I thought ... even though cursing a boiling cauldron was not a harmless little prank like turning someone into a frog. Bella had been hurt ... I winced in sympathy, remembering when Rose and I had both been caught in a potions explosion. At least Bella wouldn’t face the possibility of being expelled as well as seriously injured. But she’d still be in a healer’s bed for a few days, perhaps a week ...
“I will find the person responsible,” Magistra Loanda warned us. “And that person will regret it.”
Silence fell. No one spoke. I felt sweat prickling on the back of my neck. If Magistra Loanda knew who to blame, that person was dead. Perhaps literally. And if that person didn't confess ... not, I supposed, that it mattered. That person had come within a hairsbreadth of killing one or more students. Confession or no confession, that person was going to be expelled.
“I see,” Magistra Loanda said, after long minutes had crawled by. It felt like we’d been in the classroom for hours. “Seeing the person responsible isn't going to confess, you can all be punished. Clear up your desks, then grab cleaning supplies. I want this room scrubbed from top to bottom before any of you get anything to eat. And then I want a three-thousand-word essay on precisely why this class is so dangerous.”
I took a shuddering breath as the class began to mutter angrily. Cleaning a classroom for a detention ... even if all of us pitched in, it was going to take hours. Our uniforms would be practically ruined by the time we were finished. And we would not be able to go to dinner until it was done ... it was going to be ghastly. I looked from face to face, trying to see who looked relieved, but no one appeared to be particularly guilty. Even Isabella looked shocked.
It could be an act, I thought. She’d be the most likely suspect.
I mulled it over as I helped Rose clear up her desk. She’d been midway through the potion when Bella’s cauldron had exploded, forcing her to discard her brew into the disposal and then pick up a cleaning cloth. No one appeared to know where to begin. Alana and Isabella got into an argument, while two of the boys started pushing and shoving at each other. I met Rose’s eyes and sighed while Magistra Loanda bellowed for order. It was going to be a long afternoon.
“We need to get this done,” Ayesha McDonald said, sharply. “If half of us do the floor, while the other half do the walls, it will be done before dinnertime.”
“And who put you in charge?” Alana demanded. “I don’t want to ruin my uniform ...”
“You have seven more complete uniforms in your trunk,” I snapped. I was too worried about Bella to care about Alana’s dignity. Besides, it wasn't fair. I’d been in the backroom when the cauldron exploded. “Why was I being punished too? You can afford to send one of them away to be cleaned.”
Alana glared at me, but took one of the cloths and started wiping the nearest wall. I sighed as the rest of the cloths and buckets of water were handed out, then took one myself and started to wash the floor. The water turned an odd colour as the remnants of exploded potions started to come off the floor, worrying me more than I cared to admit. Something that soaked into my skin might just bypass my protections. Ayesha McDonald bossed us around with striking efficiency, telling us precisely what to do. I would have complained if I hadn't known she was doing her fair share of the work.
I nudged Rose as we rubbed the floor. “Did you see who did it?”
Rose shook her head. “I didn't know anything was wrong until I heard the explosion,” she said. “Did she make a mistake?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. Exploding cauldrons was hardly an irregular occurrence, but ... Bella wasn't that incompetent. “None of the ingredients are particularly volatile.”
And Magistra Loanda thinks it wasn’t an accident, I added, silently. I had no doubts about her competence. Magistra Loanda was one of the greatest Potion Mistresses in the city. If she thought someone had cursed Bella’s cauldron, someone had cursed Bella’s cauldron. But who? Her wards didn't catch whoever hurled the spell.
I puzzled over it as we wiped up the water, trying vainly not to get it on our skirts. The wards should have detected and contained any hex within the classroom, then tattled on whoever had cast the spell. But they hadn’t. I couldn't think of any way to circumvent the wards without making it blindingly obvious that something was wrong. Magistra Loanda would be very aware of her protective wards. She would know instantly if someone had managed to bring them down.
“I feel icky,” Alana announced. She glared around the room. “What now?”
I would have laughed at her, if I hadn't been a mess myself. My skirt was drenched in water and the remains of dead potions, while my shirt looked as though I’d been splattering paint over myself. It was probably a write-off. Sandy was going to shout at us for messing up the shower when we finally got back to the dorms. And ...
“Go get changed, then try and see Bella,” I said. “And then we might have to write to Mum and Dad.”
“You are dismissed,” Magistra Loanda said icily, before Alana could reply. “And when I find the person who cursed the cauldron, that person will still be expelled.”
/>
I shuddered as we hurried for the door. I had no doubt she meant it.
Chapter Eleven
“Your sister is recovering nicely,” the healer said, the following morning. “But you can't stay too long.”
I peered past him into the small bedroom. Bella was lying on the bed, snoring loudly. Her face was covered with white bandages, with holes for eyes. It didn't look as though she was resisting or somehow negating the healing potions, thankfully. I knew I’d come far too close to rejecting the potions the healers had used to heal me after my accident. Bella probably wouldn't have that problem, particularly when she was asleep.
Alana pushed past me and into the room. “Wake her up!”
The healer gave her an annoyed look. “It’s better to keep the patient asleep until the healing process is completed,” he said, tartly. He didn't seem fazed by Alana’s scowl. “She’ll be better in a few hours.”
“Good,” Alana said, savagely. “Who did this to her?”
I shrugged. Isabella was the most likely suspect, but I didn't think she was stupid enough to risk everything for a joke. Magistra Loanda might not have been able to expel her, if Isabella’s father called in enough favours, but she could certainly ban Isabella from the class and make sure that no other potions tutor took her as a student. And Isabella had looked as sodden as the rest of us by the time the class came to an end.
“You were next to her,” I reminded her. “Didn't you see what happened?”
Alana glared at me. “I was focusing on my potion,” she said. “I didn't see what happened.”
“And I was in the other room,” I said. “I didn't know what had happened until it was too late.”
I looked down at my hands. I’d showered three times since Magistra Loanda had finally banished us from her classroom, but I could still see traces of decayed potions ingredients on my skin. It would be worse for Isabella, I thought. The remnants of potion would show clearly against her pale skin. And I hadn't even been in the classroom when the potion exploded ...
“Bully for you.” Alana sneered. “Are you sure you didn't make her potion explode?”
“Thank you for reminding me why I hate you,” I snapped back. “My work couldn't have interfered with her work.”
Alana looked as though she was on the verge of hexing me. “Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I said. “If I’d produced ... something ... that interfered with her potion, it would have interfered with every other potion too.”
“Are you sure?” Alana demanded. “Your gifts are weird.”
I considered it for a long moment. I hadn't been working with blood, let alone anything else that might have linked Bella and I together. It wasn't as if we had conjoined magic! Maybe - just maybe - I’d accidentally created a resonance field that had resonated with Bella’s potion, but why just Bella’s potion? And I couldn't see how I might have created the field in the first place. The recipe had made it clear that the magical surge would actually be very low-power.
“My gifts are very useful,” I said, instead. “And yours are quite common.”
Alana opened her mouth, but the healer spoke first, cutting off whatever caustic comment she intended to make.
“If you two are just going to argue, please go do it somewhere else,” he said, wearily. “This is not a place for loud noises.”
I jumped. I’d forgotten the healer was there. Alana looked equally surprised. “Fine,” she said, sharply. “But this is not over.”
“Out,” the healer ordered.
I took one last look at Bella as I mumbled an apology, then turned and hurried through the door. A handful of older students were waiting outside, hoping to have a handful of hexes removed before they had to go to class. One of them was lying on the floor, his legs twisted together into something unnatural. I reached for the dispeller, then stopped myself. I wasn't sure what would happen if the magic was removed in an eyeblink. He might snap back to normal or it might make matters worse.
Alana motioned for me to stay with her as she walked down the corridor. I kept a wary distance, ready to jump out of her way if she lunged at me. My protections could handle her hexes, but she might resort to simply hitting me. Or casting a spell that would get around my protections, somehow. Dad had warned us, a long time before it became clear that I had no magic, that Objects of Power didn't make one invincible. Akin’s great-great-grandfather would probably agree with him.
“It could have been Isabella,” Alana said. Her voice tightened. “Or Akin.”
I felt an odd sensation in my chest. Akin? No, it couldn't have been Akin. He had his flaws - everyone did - but he’d never been openly malicious. If he’d wanted to, he could probably have ensured that Magister Tallyman dumped me as his assistant a long time before I discovered my true talents - or worse. He might be Isabella’s brother, but he didn't share her personality. I supposed it was good to know that someone lacking in malice would eventually inherit House Rubén.
“No,” I said. “It couldn't have been him.”
“He has the power,” Alana said. “And the cause.”
I shook my head. “Not him.”
Alana let out a long sigh. “You do remember he’s a Rubén?”
“I remember you’re an Aguirre,” I told her. “That doesn't stop you from being unpleasant.”
“He’s the Rubén Heir,” Alana snapped. “He’ll grow up into ... into his father!”
I said nothing. It was hard to believe that my parents had been young once. I’d seen portraits of my mother as a young girl, only a year or two older than me, but I just couldn't accept that the gangly girl in the painting had grown into my elegant mother. It was reassuring, in a way, yet ... it was also unbelievable. I just couldn't draw a line between the girl and my mother, any more than I could see Akin growing into his father. Isabella, on the other hand ...
Alana grabbed my arm as we rounded the corner. “You really should stay away from him,” she warned. “Or one day you’ll wind up a prisoner!”
I flinched. I’d been a prisoner. And she knew it.
“I was a prisoner,” I said. I wrenched my arm free. “And Akin helped me to escape!”
“And that also means he knows how to contain you,” Alana said. “Or do you think you can escape again?”
I felt a surge of anger. “Do you expect your friends to betray you too?”
Alana’s face darkened, then smoothed into a blank mask as someone rushed towards us. I looked up and blinked in surprise. Val was coming right at us, holding a large broadsheet in one hand. There was a picture of Carioca Rubén on the front cover.
“Is it true?” Val demanded, too excited to realise that she was practically supplicating two firsties. “Is it true?”
I frowned. “Is what true?”
Alana reached out and snatched the broadsheet out of Val’s hand. The older girl let it go, much to my surprise. Val was a lowerclassman and didn’t have the power to assign lines, but no one would have batted an eyelid if she’d given Alana a smack on the head and taken back her paper. Mum would have been more upset about Alana’s bad manners than her daughter getting smacked. Taking something without asking was very rude.
I looked at Val. “What does it say?”
Alana giggled. “You’re in trouble.”
“Lord Carioca Rubén has filed suit in Magus Court, claiming that your family has stolen a priceless family heirloom,” Val said. “Is it true?”
“This is all your fault,” Alana said. Her voice was muffled by the broadsheet. “If you’d had the wit not to let him touch the sword ...”
Val tilted her head. “Who touched the sword?”
I gave her a sharp look. “None of your business.”
Alana tossed me the broadsheet. “Let’s see,” she said. “Lady Devonshire is marrying again, this time to - gasp - someone from the other side of the Great Desert. The Crown Prince is planning to conclude his state visit to Shallot with a formal party, to be held at Jude’s ... oh, and we’re be
ing sued in Magus Court. This is definitely all your fault.”
I bit down on several nasty answers as I opened the broadsheet and scanned the lead story. It was fairly short on facts - and long on ill-informed speculation and remarks from people who had absolutely nothing to do with the affair - but the basic details were accurate. House Rubén’s Family Sword had fallen into our hands and Lord Carioca Rubén was suing for its immediate return. Magus Court - or perhaps the Crown Prince - would hear the case soon enough.
This could be bad, I thought, as I turned the page. On one hand, no one would believe we’d actually stolen the blade. It wasn't easy to steal a Family Sword in working condition. But on the other hand, the Great Houses wouldn't be keen to set a precedent that allowed us to keep the sword. They’d back House Rubén for fear that they’d find such a precedent used against them later on. This could be very bad.
The Zero Equation (The Zero Enigma Book 3) Page 11