The Zero Equation (The Zero Enigma Book 3)

by Christopher Nuttall

  I shuddered, the sensation stopping - as always - at the neckline. I wondered, absently, how Great Aunt Stregheria had compensated for the sudden loss of circulation. Perhaps the spell merely inhibited voluntary movement, rather than freezing me in place. But I couldn't feel anything below the neckline ... what had she done? I turned the problem over and over in my mind, trying to distract myself from the awful reality. I was trapped and ...

  My blood ran cold. I was alone. No one knew where to find me, even if they were looking. I wasn't even sure I was still in the school! Great Aunt Stregheria could have kept me unconscious for days, with the proper potions. Why not? Fairuza had done it and I was sure Great Aunt Stregheria had read her reports very carefully. She certainly wouldn't make the same mistakes. I’d be watched by fully-trained magicians when I was moved to her forge and put to work.

  A thought struck me. If I could disturb the Casting Chalk ... it didn't seem possible, not when I couldn't move my lower body, but ... the idea refused to go away. I gritted my teeth, trying to think of something a little more practical. If I couldn’t move my body ... it hit me in a flash of inspiration. I could blow out, as hard as I could, towards the chalk. It might not be enough to blow away the lines on the floor, but if it disturbed a little of the chalk it might weaken the spell. And besides, I couldn't think of anything else. I blew and blew, as hard as I could, unsure even how my lungs were still working. Perhaps Great Aunt Stregheria had invented a whole new way to keep people from moving. If she combined two separate spellforms ...

  The chalk shifted, just slightly. I blew and spat, wishing - not for the first time - that I could actually feel the magic. A real magician would probably have deduced how the spell actually worked by now, although he'd also be trapped for longer. Great Aunt Stregheria wouldn't have forgotten to ensure that the victim would find it hard - perhaps impossible - to cast a counterspell of his own. One of the reasons it had taken so long for people to start believing the rumours about me was that very few other magical children could escape freeze spells and transfigurations too.

  I blew ... and the spell collapsed. I tumbled to the ground, thrashing about helplessly as my muscles spasmed violently. She had locked them in place, then. Dust billowed up around me as I destroyed the remainder of the runic diagram, trying not to cry out in pain. If there was someone outside the door ... I rolled over, dimly aware that I was getting chalk on my dress clothes. Mum would not be amused. But I would happily listen to a lecture from her if it meant seeing her again. She was a prisoner too.

  Despondency threatened to overcome me, again, as I forced myself to my feet. Great Aunt Stregheria hadn't kidnapped me, this time. She - and the Crown Prince - had kidnapped practically everyone of importance in Shallot. It was proof, if I’d needed it, that the Crown Prince was involved. Great Aunt Stregheria would have to be completely insane to pick a fight with the Great Houses and the King unless she had some very powerful allies on her side. I still didn’t know how the Crown Prince intended to take his father’s throne, but it didn't matter. He had to be stopped.

  I looked at my wrist, where the bracelet should have been. It was gone, along with everything else I’d made to protect myself. Even the garter was gone. I was more surprised she’d let me keep my hairpins than that she’d stripped me of everything useful. Great Aunt Stregheria was hardly likely to let me keep an Object of Power. I felt naked without them, unable to do so much as defend myself. A seven-year-old child could stop me in my tracks. I wondered, sourly, what she was doing with them. They wouldn't be that much use to a magician unless she didn't mind giving up her power for the duration.

  My legs screamed in protest as I staggered over to the door. I told them to be quiet, all too aware that my breathing was far too loud. If there was someone on the other side of the door, he might well have realised that something had happened ... but he hadn't come bursting into the room. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? My protections were gone. Someone could have opened the door, cast a wide-angled freeze spell, and then casually returned me to the chalk trap. Or simply tied me up ...

  ... But no one came bursting into the room. I couldn't hear anything on the far side, not even someone breathing. It was hard to escape the sense that someone was listening for me, as intently as I was listening for him, but ... I thought I was imagining it. A guard would hardly wait for me to try to force open the door before stopping me, would he? A grown man might have reason to fear Alana or Isabella, but not me.

  I studied the lock, torn between hope and fear. It was simple, too simple. A common blacksmith could have forged it - I’d forged similar locks myself - and almost any magician could have unlocked it with a simple spell. I didn't think anyone had intended it to actually do more than indicate that the door was meant to be kept closed. A real lock required a great deal more effort. But I couldn't see any runes carved into the metal. The lock was little more than a joke to a magician.

  But she left it there because she knew I couldn't cast an unlocking cantrip, I thought. I couldn't resist a smirk. It never occurred to her that I didn't need magic to unlock a magic-less door.

  I pulled the hairpin out of my braid, straightened it out and knelt down in front of the keyhole. Sweat ran down my back as I carefully pressed it into the keyhole, feeling for the innards. The lock didn’t look as though it demanded a complex key - it was rare to see a magic-less lock designed to be complex - but it was still far from easy to pick it. If someone was on the far side, they might hear the scratching ...

  The lock clicked. I opened the door, fist raised. I’d only have a second to hit the person on the far side, if there was a person on the far side. They’d presumably be trained to cast spells first and ask questions later. But ... there was no one waiting for me. I was in the middle of a long corridor, probably somewhere on the lower levels. The lighting was dim - a handful of light crystals had exploded, leaving shards of glass on the floor - worrying me more than I cared to admit. If the power distribution network had started to fail, it would do immense damage to the school. I didn’t want to think about what might happen if the protective wards in the storerooms failed. There were quite a few volatile potions ingredients that should never be allowed to mix.

  I listened, carefully. There was a faint whining sound in the air, something I couldn't place, but nothing else. I had to be at the very lowest levels, perhaps ... right down at the bottom of the school. I remembered the stories about upperclassmen having hidey-holes in the disused sections and shivered. Great Aunt Stregheria had convinced Rolf and his friends to help her. She’d presumably had enough access to the school to set up a hidey-hole of her own.

  If we get out of this, we are really going to have to fix the wards, I thought, grimly. Or build a whole new school.

  My lips twisted at the thought as I started to walk along the corridor, feeling uncomfortably exposed. I’d forgotten just how much I’d come to rely on my spectacles - and everything else I’d forged - until it was too late. I knew, all too well, that I might walk into a trap and get caught before I had the merest hint of its existence. I’d grown used to watching for signs my sisters had hexed my chair - or something worse - but here ... I was up against adult magicians. Who knew how well they could hide their traps?

  I wanted to stop, to run and hide, but I knew I had to keep going. There would be nowhere safe for me, if Great Aunt Stregheria and the Crown Prince won. They’d want to use me for themselves or make sure no one else could use me either. Great Aunt Stregheria had told me, after all, that the Crown Prince had ambitions that went well beyond merely taking control of the kingdom. He wanted to re-forge the Thousand-Year Empire. I wasn't sure he could do it, even with my help, but the carnage he’d unleash would be terrible. Maxima and Minima would be plunged into a new Dark Age.

  I reached a half-hidden stairwell, the entrance hanging open, and hesitated, unsure where to go. If I went back to the workroom ... I could forge tools to protect myself. But Great Aunt Stregheria would expect me to go there
, wouldn't she? And yet ... where else could I go? I remembered the box of Objects of Power I’d given Rose and smiled. Perhaps, just perhaps, we could use the weapons I’d forged to turn the tables on our captors.

  Carefully, very carefully, I inched up the stairs. The stairwell had been designed for servants, once upon a time; it was narrow and cramped enough to make even a small girl like me feel claustrophobic. I hated to think what it must have been like for adults to use the dusty stairs regularly. I reached the dormitory level and slipped along the servant’s corridor, trying to find the hidden door that would lead to the main corridor. There were a handful of peepholes scattered along the walls, allowing me to glance into the corridor. I couldn't help wondering why the servants had been allowed to spy on their masters. Maybe everyone had long since forgotten that the passageways existed.

  But I found them, I thought. I looked at the dust. It had clearly been disturbed by other footsteps. And someone else must have found them too.

  I put the thought aside as I found the hidden door and examined it carefully. It was a simple trick, mechanical rather than magical. I pushed it open and stepped into the main corridor. Whoever had designed the entrance had hidden it behind a giant portrait of a fat wizard in red robes and pointy hat. I had to admit it was a neat trick, although hardly one I hadn't seen in the Great Houses. Perhaps there were concealed charms to make it harder to open from the other side.

  Shaking my head, I slipped down the corridor ... and stopped, pressing myself against the stone wall. Sandy was standing in front of the dorm, her body inhumanly still. I thought she was frozen for a long moment, then I realised she was breathing. She was under a geas. Someone - and it was easy to guess who - had enchanted her. I’d hoped she could be talked into helping me, but now ... now I knew it wasn’t going to happen. Even the simplest geas would be hard to remove.

  Crap, I thought. A geas wouldn't last long on me, but Sandy ...? She’d have problems for weeks to come. What now?

  I slipped back, grimly aware that it was only a matter of time until I ran into someone patrolling the corridors or another upperclassman under a geas. I needed to get into that dorm! And yet, there was no other entrance. The only advantage I had, I thought, was that Sandy literally wouldn't be thinking for herself. She might react slowly, if she saw me coming, or not react at all. I would have a chance to hit her, yet ... a simple layered protective charm would be enough to stop me before I could strike. Merely touching her might be enough to trigger it. But ...

  A protective charm would interfere with the geas, I told myself. It was true, I thought, but ... it was also what I wanted to believe. I doubted Great Aunt Stregheria cared enough about Sandy to let her protect herself ... in some ways, the mere presence of the geas was actually reassuring. Sandy wouldn't be under a spell if Great Aunt Stregheria thought she was a potential ally. Maybe Great Aunt Stregheria had missed a trick there. If I get it right ...

  I hesitated, then snuck back down towards the corridor as close as I could and threw myself at her. Sandy whirled with terrifying speed, magic dancing over her fingertips, too late. My fist slammed into her jaw, knocking her back against the wall. Her head cracked against the stone, her body crumpling to the ground. I blanched as I hit the ground myself, ready to evade any spell ... but one wasn't cast. Long moments passed ... Sandy didn't move. I nearly panicked. What if she was dead?

  Bracing myself, I checked her pulse. She was alive. I sagged in relief, then checked her head. There was a nasty bump where she’d banged her skull against the wall, but she wasn't bleeding. Hopefully, being knocked out would break the spell. Some of the strongest compulsion spells known to magicians could be defeated if the victim was knocked unconscious. I hoped Great Aunt Stregheria had used one of them.

  “I’m sorry, Sandy,” I muttered.

  Standing, I turned and walked into the dorm.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  I wasn't sure what I expected to see when I walked into the dorm. Great Aunt Stregheria wouldn’t have harmed any of the students, I was sure, if only because most of them were connected to the Great Houses. Hostages tended to lose their value if they were hurt ... assuming, of course, they had any value. I’d been trying not to think about the fact that Rose had almost no value to anyone, except me. I didn't want to think about what Great Aunt Stregheria might do to Rose, just to punish me for offending her.

  The dorm was packed. Nearly twenty girls, all firsties, were sitting on the beds or the floor, reading books or playing games. Other beds were hidden behind their drapes, suggesting that their occupants were trying to sleep. I spotted Alana and Bella, neither of whom slept in Raven Dorm, sitting next to Rose and Clarian Bolingbroke. None of the girls looked as if they knew they were hostages. It occurred to me that they might have been ordered back to the dorms in the wake of the explosion, whatever it had been, then told to wait. If they didn't know they were under threat, they might not have done anything to escape.

  “Cat!”

  Rose jumped to her feet and ran to me. Alana and Bella looked slightly relieved, although I knew better than to expect them to show it in public. Rose wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. I hugged her back, keeping a wary eye out for a hex. Someone might just decide to ruin the moment, particularly when they didn't know what was at stake. And then Isabella peeked out from behind her drapes.

  I panicked, pushing Rose away. “Stop her!”

  Alana jumped to her feet. Bella wasn't far behind. “What happened?”

  “The school’s been taken over,” I said. It was hard, so hard, to think clearly. Isabella was far too close to me, well within hexing range ... she could silence me easily, if she thought to do it before I could say too much. “She helped!”

  Isabella looked torn between hexing me on the spot and trying to brazen it out. Ayesha and Zeya McDonald appeared behind her, looking confused. I swallowed, hard. Rose would support me - and Bella, perhaps - but who else? Alana? It was hard to believe that I was suddenly dependent on my sister. I braced myself, ready to dodge a spell, as Isabella’s expression hardened. I didn’t know what - if anything - the McDonald sisters knew, but it was unlikely they’d abandon Isabella without a very good reason.

  “Great Aunt Stregheria and the Crown Prince have taken over the school,” I gabbled, frantically. “Our parents are hostages too!”

  I jabbed a finger at Isabella. “And she took me hostage!”

  Isabella sneered. “Can't you come up with a better story? You burst in here and expect us to believe that your Great Aunt is a traitor?”

  “And the Crown Prince too,” Zeya added.

  I muttered a word that Mum would wash my mouth out with soap for knowing, let alone saying. The story was hard to believe. Alana and Bella might believe that Great Aunt Stregheria was as evil as they came - they’d been her victims too - but everyone else only knew her by reputation. And Crown Prince Henry was practically the living flower of chivalry. No one would expect him to betray his father.

  “She’s clearly delusional,” Isabella announced to the room at large. “She runs in here with a fantasy ...”

  “She came in here late,” I snapped. It was guesswork, but I was fairly sure Isabella couldn't have gone back to the dorm at once. I wasn't even sure why she’d been allowed to go back to the dorms. Unless Great Aunt Stregheria thought Isabella could keep an eye on us ... it did make sense. Rose, Akin and I had managed to escape an inescapable prison. “She was sent back here to spy on us!”

  “How dare you?” Isabella’s face reddened. The others were looking between us, subtly drawing back. “You wretched ...”

  “They said there was an explosion,” Gayle said, carefully. “We heard it.”

  “Then wouldn't they have tried to get you out of the school?” It was hard, so hard, not to talk down to her. “Why have they sent you back to the dorms instead?”

  “Because there’s a war on?” Isabella snapped. “You’re mad!”

  I took a breath. “I’ll swear
an oath,” I said, holding one hand in front of my chest. Surprise rippled through the room like a physical force. We had all been told - even me - never to even think of swearing an oath until we reached adulthood, when we could consider all the implications of binding ourselves to our word. No one would swear an oath unless it was deadly serious. “I swear, by the power ...”

  Isabella panicked and jabbed a finger at me. I ducked a hex that passed over my head and slammed into the wall. Bella shouted something as Rose threw a hex back at Isabella, a hex that was scornfully deflected by the other girl a moment before she cast a second spell at me. This time, I wasn't quick enough to dodge. The world shrank rapidly, my dormmates suddenly becoming towering giants. Panic rippled through me as I saw my tiny hands and furry arms. Isabella had turned me into a mouse!

  And then everyone was suddenly hexing each other, spells flashing in all directions. I scampered for the nearest bedside cabinet, trying to hide underneath it as feet crashed down all around me. Zeya fell backwards, hitting the ground hard enough to hurt; Ayesha threw out a pair of very nasty hexes before someone caught her with a different spell and turned her into a tiny statue of herself. Alana marched over to Zeya, kicked her in the chest, then cast a freeze spell on her ...