The Zero Equation (The Zero Enigma Book 3)

by Christopher Nuttall

  I rose. “Yes, sir,” I said. I thought I should probably write to Dad, but I was fairly certain my father would already know. “Thank you, sir.”

  “We’ll talk again, after your fellows have taken their mocks,” the Castellan said. “Who knows? By then, there may even be peace.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Somewhat to my surprise, it was a week before any hints of the Crown Prince’s plans to impose a ceasefire leaked into the school, sparking off a whole new series of rumours. A great many people - my parents amongst them - must have known right from the start, but they’d said nothing. Perhaps that was why the news didn't leak earlier. No one believed it was true because no reliable source would swear to it.

  Not that the news made matters any better, of course. Order had practically broken down completely. I wasn't sure why the teachers hadn't simply locked us in our dorms instead of trying to pretend that everything was normal. Students went everywhere in groups, exchanging hexes with their rivals when the teachers weren't looking; I kept my head down and tried to slip around without being noticed. It wasn't easy. Alana was practically leading one group of students and she kept demanding I forge weapons and protective amulets for them.

  The Castellan summoned us to the Great Hall, as soon as the new set of rumours spread out of control, growing in the telling until they became unrecognisable. The Crown Prince’s Household Troops were already taking up positions within Shallot; no, they were massing on the outskirts, just waiting for the order to enter the city and take control of the city’s government. The Royal Navy was blockading our harbours; no, the Royal Navy was actually escorting ships in and out of the city. The Great Houses had sworn to fight to the death, rather than let the Crown Prince tear the city’s charter to shreds; no, the Great Houses had decided to submit themselves to His Highness’s authority. The Kingsmen had already taken the Patriarchs and Matriarchs prisoner; no, the Kingsmen had been withdrawn by the king. A billion soldiers were already marching on the city ... that rumour, at least, didn't last more than a few hours. There wasn’t anything like as many soldiers in the army.

  I glanced at Akin as I sat on the bench. He was seated on the other side of the room, Isabella sitting next to him like a chaperoning grand dame. I was all too aware that I’d barely had any time to talk to him, between my new schedule and Isabella following him around like an angry guard dog. He didn't seem willing or able to slip away. My imagination provided all sorts of plans for slipping into his dorm, only for common sense to reject them all. The rules specifically stated that boys were not allowed to enter the female dorms and vice versa. I’d be in real trouble if I was caught trying to sneak in, whatever my intentions. Mum would definitely not be amused.

  Alana sat down next to me. “We need you to produce a handful of focusing devices,” she said, so quietly I could barely hear her. “And ...”

  I tuned her out. We hadn't had so much as a letter from Mum and Dad since Aguirre Hall had been attacked, although it seemed to be clear that they were still alive. If Dad had died, someone would have inherited his post ... Alana might think she was first in line, but she was far too young. I rather thought it might be better for her if one of our uncles became Patriarch, with his eldest child as the new Heir Primus, but I wasn't cruel enough to say that out loud. Even she was more worried about our parents than her position.

  The Castellan cleared his throat. His voice, when he spoke, was very cool. “You may have heard rumours about certain actions on the part of His Highness, Crown Prince Henry of Tintagel. The truth behind the rumours is simple. The Crown Prince, having determined that the House War is threatening to spill out of control, is bringing troops to the city to prevent the conflict from getting any worse. Magus Court has given its reluctant assent to the movement, which will see troops on our streets within the next two days.”

  I frowned as a rustle of ... something ... ran through the air. We’d all been brought up to believe that Shallot was effectively autonomous. We were part of the kingdom and paid taxes accordingly, but we lived under our own laws. I could taste the shock in the air. The Kingsmen were one thing - half of them were trained in Shallot anyway - yet bringing in troops was quite another. It was an outrage. Who in Magus Court would agree to it?

  But they might not have a choice, I thought. The House War really is getting out of hand.

  I swallowed. The rumours had been growing worse and worse over the last few days. Attacks and counterattacks, hexes and curses ... entire households smashed, the handful of survivors forced to flee the city. Amber had been told, in private, that her mother had been killed four days ago. She’d barely gotten out of bed since. I was surprised Sandy had simply let her stay there, although I thought I understood. Going to classes with the children of the people who might have killed Amber’s mother was a little too much to ask.

  “There is a second point,” the Castellan continued. “Once the House War is over, the Crown Prince plans to convene a conference of the various Matriarchs and Patriarchs to ensure that nothing like this happens again. This conference will be held here, at Jude’s. During that time, you will remain in your dorms unless you have special permission to be elsewhere.”

  I glanced at Alana. Our parents would be there. We could go see Mum and Dad after the conference broke up for the night. I doubted, somehow, that everything would really be settled in a day, unless the Crown Prince planned to dictate terms at swordpoint. Maybe that was what he had in mind. It might just give everyone a face-saving excuse for putting the war and its causes firmly in the past.

  Or it might make matters worse, I thought. It might even unite the Great Houses against the throne.

  Uneasy mutterings ran through the chamber as the implications sank in. The Castellan had talked of the conference as if it would last a few short hours, at most. Rose and her fellow commoners might not understand the problem, but the aristocrats did. It normally took longer to agree on the shape of the conference table, let alone all the other details that needed to be resolved before real discussions might begin. Perhaps the Crown Prince planned to organise everything himself, or at least claim to have done so. It might speed things up a little.

  But it won’t speed up the rest of the conference, I told myself. It will take weeks to sort through all the old grudges and resolve them.

  “This will not be an easy time for any of us,” the Castellan said. “Mocks are not that far away. However, I expect you - all of you - to behave yourself. The Prince’s household troops will be patrolling the school too, when the conference begins. Do not do anything to irritate them or they’ll box your ears.”

  Ouch, I thought.

  “Dismissed,” the Castellan said, finally. He sounded tired, as if he was forcing himself to speak. “And behave.”

  Alana grabbed my arm and tugged me towards the nearest door. “What do you think it means?”

  I shrugged as Rose fell in beside us. “The Crown Prince probably wants to tell us to behave ourselves,” I said. I smiled at the thought of my parents - and everyone else’s parents - being lectured like adults lectured children. “Or maybe he wants to dictate terms to everyone else.”

  “Which could end badly,” Alana said. “What if he demands you hand over the sword?”

  I met her eyes. “If it ended the war,” I asked her, “would you not hand over the sword?”

  “It would make us look weak,” Alana snapped. We slowed as we approached the door. The press of older students was too thick for us to escape. “Who knows what they’d demand next?”

  “They can't force Cat to repair other Objects of Power,” Rose pointed out. “She’d be able to dictate terms before getting to work.”

  “Assuming it’s possible,” I muttered. “I couldn't guarantee anything.”

  Magister Von Rupert was standing outside the door, his arms folded. “Cat,” he said, briskly. “You’re with me.”

  I looked at Alana. “Get Rose somewhere safe, please.”

  Alana frowned, then
nodded. I hoped she’d do it without causing problems. Bella would have been better, but I hadn't seen her in the Great Hall. She’d probably come in late and stood by the far wall. I didn't want to think about possible alternatives. If she’d been caught alone by the same bunch of elder students who’d attacked Alana ...

  I followed Magister Von Rupert as he led the way down to the basement. “We ... ah ... have to establish extra wardstones before the Crown Prince’s arrival,” he said, opening the door to the hidden passages. There seemed to be less dust in the air these days. Perhaps I was just becoming used to its presence. “They all have to be emplaced today.”

  “That might be tricky,” I said. “How long do we really have?”

  Magister Von Rupert said nothing for a long moment. “Two days,” he said, finally. “The Crown Prince ... ah ... feels that matters should be resolved as quickly as possible.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. I could understand the urgency, the grim determination to get everything finished as quickly as possible, but ... I couldn't imagine any such agreement lasting for very long. The Great Houses had been nursing their grudges for centuries. They were all coming into the open now. I just ... I just didn't believe the Crown Prince could convince them to put their grudges aside. Unless he had something really clever up his sleeve. I mulled it over as we reached a makeshift workroom, but nothing came to mind. He had to be out of his mind.

  He is a little bit older than you, I reminded myself. Maybe he thinks he has enough leverage to make them bend the knee.

  “I’ve drawn out a diagram,” Magister Von Rupert said, pointing to a ramshackle wooden workbench. A paper scroll lay on top, held down by four books and a Device of Power I didn't recognise. “Does it make sense to you?”

  I tried not to show my dismay on my face. I was an advanced student. There was no doubt of that. But I lacked the experience of a qualified wardsmith. Magister Von Rupert needed a team of trained magicians assisting him, not me. I could understand the Castellan’s fear and frustration all too well. His predecessors had left Jude’s dependent on an Object of Power that they could neither understand nor duplicate. And now the wards, facing their hardest test, were starting to break apart.

  “It looks good,” I said, carefully. Magister Von Rupert would have asked Magister Grayson to check, wouldn't he? If Magister Von Rupert had got something wrong ... it would have been spotted ... right? I hoped so. The diagram was relatively simple, thankfully, but it would have problems adapting to Jude’s. Perhaps it was time to build a whole new school from scratch. “But will it fit in with the rest of the buildings?”

  “As long as it holds up for the next week or two ... ah ... it shouldn't be a problem,” Magister Von Rupert told me. “Ah ... take one of the wardstones and follow me.”

  I felt a flicker of resentment as I bent over and picked up the closest wardstone. It wasn't very large - it was a crystalline shell surrounding a Device of Power - but it was heavy. I could forge something better, I thought, if I had the time. An Object of Power would produce all the magic the school needed, at least until the magic field weakened and everything collapsed. This time, at least, there were some very definite advantages to using Devices of Power.

  “This way,” Magister Von Rupert said. “Hurry.”

  I followed him through the corridors, grunting under the strain. I would have resented it more, I suppose, if he wasn't such a little old man. I probably was stronger than him, if only because he was old enough to be my great-granddad. He stopped as we reached the first checkpoint, then motioned for me to put the wardstone down in the correct place. I let out a sigh of relief as I lowered it to the ground. My back felt uncomfortably sore.

  “Check the diagrams,” Magister Von Rupert ordered, as he drew out a set of runes using Casting Chalk. “Ah ... I want to account for everything before I trigger the wardstone.”

  I stood to one side and followed his work, carefully. He might be old, but there was nothing wrong with his mind. The diagrams were perfect. I wondered, suddenly, where he’d grown up. He didn't act like an aristocrat, but he had skills that had been drummed into my head since I was old enough to walk. Rose was smart, yet she couldn't draw anything more complex than a very basic set of runic diagrams.

  “It looks perfect,” I said, when he'd finished. “But can the wardstone draw on enough power to work?”

  “I think so,” Magister Von Rupert said. “Ah ... as long as it holds out for the next two weeks ...”

  “It’ll be fine,” I finished. It was an oddly slapdash approach, but I suspected he understood at least some of the true problem. He might not realise that the magic field was dropping - if indeed it was dropping - yet he was smart enough to realise that they were simply using too much power. “Still ... using so many wardstones at once will be difficult.”

  “I know,” Magister Von Rupert said. “But do you have a better idea?”

  I tried to think about it as we went back to the workroom, collected the next wardstone and carried it through the passageways. Nothing came to mind, save - perhaps - for reducing some of the other demands on the Object of Power. Perhaps if we turned off all the lights ... it might be possible, although it would cause its own problems. Most of the classrooms didn't have windows. And who knew how many other essential functions would be accidentally disabled along with the lights?

  We really need to diagram out the whole system, I thought. My mind returned to the old refrain. Or simply rebuild the school from scratch.

  I looked at him as we lowered the third wardstone into place. “Why did they just ... just make such a hodgepodge of a system?”

  “You’re ... ah, young,” Magister Von Rupert said. He made it sound like I’d committed a terrible crime. “The young always have ... ah ... ideals. A perfect system for a perfect school ... ah, the real world is not always so accommodating. It was easier ... ah ... to just keep adding new functions to the existing system than build a newer system. Or ... ah, a separate system. Interlocking them all seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “But now the system is on the verge of collapse,” I said. “How can it be a good idea?”

  Magister Von Rupert smiled, rather toothily. “Nothing lasts forever,” he said. “Not even the Eternal City. It's sometimes just a matter of prolonging something’s lifespan as long as possible.”

  He coughed as dust flew into his face. “Ah ... it’s also a matter of putting something off until it becomes someone else’s problem. I put forward a proposal for renovating the whole system ten years ago, when it became clear that we couldn't keep the ... hodgepodge, as you called it ... working indefinitely. The Castellan passed it on to the Triad, who said nothing. Ah ... they didn’t want to authorise the expense, you see.”

  I blinked. “But ... they're risking the school.”

  “And the ... ah ... renovations would consume over half the school’s budget for the next ten years,” Magister Von Rupert said. He laughed, harshly. “We would have problems paying for it.”

  “But we'd also have problems paying for a new school,” I said. “Right?”

  “Right,” Magister Von Rupert said. “But if we don’t need a new school, we don’t need a new school. Right?”

  I said nothing as we emplaced and checked the last wardstones, then headed slowly back to the workroom. My uniform was covered in dust ... I kicked myself, mentally, for not taking the time to change into my overalls. I wanted a shower - perhaps several showers - before I found out if the household staff could repair the damage or not. Magister Von Rupert dismissed me with a wave, so I stumbled back up to the surface. The dust burned my throat as I stepped through the entrance. My eyes were stinging ...

  ... And Isabella was standing by the statue, looking at me. Her golden hair shone in the light.

  I stared at her, alarmed and puzzled. Was she waiting for me? She’d rejected the olive branch I’d held out, but ... Akin might have had a few words with her. Or ... I was too tired to speak, too aware of my condition
to want to bandy words with her. I waited, silently relieved - for once - that I had no magic. No one could have cast a spell in such a state. My protections, on the other hand, would work just fine.

  Isabella studied me for a long moment, then turned and walked away. I watched her go, unsure what to make of it. Had she come to talk to me? Or ... I didn't know.

  It probably doesn't matter, I thought, as I headed for the stairs. Sandy was not going to be pleased when she saw me trailing dust into the dorm. Maybe she was just waiting for someone else.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “What do you do,” Sandy asked Rose, “if His Highness looks at you?”

  I tried not to roll my eyes as I sat on the bed and listened. Sandy was clearly nervous, so nervous she’d forgotten that she was annoyed with us. I would have felt sorry for her if she hadn't been drilling us all - particularly Rose - on royal protocol for the last two days. Half our classes had been cancelled so the upperclassmen could make sure we knew what to do. I couldn't help being a little insulted. I’d been drilled in protocol by people who were far more pedantic than Sandy and her fellows.