“There is no magic on this frog,” Dad said, sternly. He didn't sound pleased. “Alana ...”
“It’s Caitlyn,” Alana insisted. She went on and on about it, her voice rising higher and higher. Her words rattled out so fast that I had trouble making them out. “She sneaked into my room and triggered the trap and I can't turn her back! I ...”
Dad’s voice darkened. “This is a real frog,” he said. “I don’t know where your sister has gone, but there’s no magic on this frog. Which spell did you use to protect your trunk?”
“The one from Hawker’s Index,” Alana managed. She sounded as though she was trying not to cry. The joke had probably gone far enough. “I should be able to break it ...”
I chose that moment to step into the room. “Dad,” I said, as casually as possible, “can we talk about ...?”
Alana let out a furious scream and pitched the frog at me. “You ...”
“That will do,” Dad snapped. Alana’s hand lowered, a moment before she could throw a change spell at me. “Alana, I do not have time to deal with your practical jokes!”
“Particularly one that could have ended very badly,” Mum added. “Go to your room. We will discuss your conduct later.”
“And you are grounded for a week,” Dad said. His voice was icy cold. “Go.”
“But I have a party,” Alana protested. “Dad, I promised I would attend. Cythera ...”
“Go,” Dad snapped.
Alana shot me a look that promised murder - or at least a humiliating hex - as she stamped past me and down the corridor. I turned to watch her go, trying to school my face into something resembling calm. I’d confess later, perhaps. Alana being grounded would be very satisfactory - the sound of her slamming the door was loud enough to be heard outside - but it meant she’d be in the hall instead of wandering the grounds or visiting friends.
I turned back to Dad. He was giving me a very sharp look. I half-expected him to demand answers, if he hadn't worked out what had happened already. But he chose not to ask any questions. I decided it would be better not to ask why.
“I assume you don’t want to go to the party,” he said. “We’ll have a family meeting tonight, then.”
I shrugged. I’d grown to loathe birthday parties as I’d grown older. Most of the guests were from magical families and knew enough spells to be dangerous. It wasn't uncommon for two-thirds of the guests to be turned into animals or objects as the rest showed off their powers, trying to establish a pecking order. I was always the first to be turned into something - or worse - before I’d stopped going to parties. That hadn't helped the rumours about me.
“You can help me brew potions this afternoon,” Mum said. She sounded cross, although I wasn't sure if she was angry at me, or Alana, or Dad. “And you can do a little research in the library for me.”
“Yes, Mum,” I said. There was something in her voice that told me that Mum knew everything. Maybe she thought Alana needed a shock, but she wasn't going to let me get away with it. “What would you like me to do?”
“Research Fingal’s Tonic,” Mum ordered. “I have to brew it this afternoon.”
Dad smiled. “Good luck.”
I sighed. The tonic was complex, very complex. And utterly beyond most magicians, even the ones with formal training. And me, of course. It said a great deal about my mother that she could brew it so easily. She didn't really need my help - or anyone’s, for that matter. But then, my mother had always been very capable. How else could she have proven a match for Dad?
“And we will discuss other matters over the brew,” Mum added. “And I want you to listen.”
“Yes, Mother,” I said.
Chapter Four
The book open in front of me was technically illegal, but my parents had never seen fit to ban me from reading it. They had banned Alana and Bella from entering the darker sections of the upper library, much to Alana’s irritation ... I really didn't know what it meant that they'd allowed me to look. Was it an attempt to trick my magic into emerging or a quiet admission that much of the knowledge within the library would be useless to me? I wasn't sure I wanted to know.
Merely touching the pages made my skin crawl, but I worked my way through them one by one, parsing out the Old Script word by word. It wasn't good news. As long as I shared blood with my family, I would always be part of them. Anyone with a blood connection to me - my sisters, my parents, my grandparents - would be able to track me down, merely through the blood. There were ways to cut the link, apparently, but they all required sophisticated knowledge and powerful magic. I couldn't begin to craft the spell I’d need, let alone cast it. I was doomed to be Caitlyn Aguirre until the day I died.
Or I get disowned, I thought, sourly.
I sat back in the chair and sighed, heavily. The last month had been spent preparing for school and trying to find a way to get out of going, but I had failed. My parents had proven grimly resolute. No amount of begging and pleading had convinced them to change their minds. And while I had considered ways of running away, I hadn't found a way to escape without being dragged back in disgrace. I couldn't break the blood tie ... and the only people who could help, apart from my family, were my family’s enemies. There was no way I could go to them and ask for help. I’d be lucky if they only laughed at me.
Closing the book, I looked up at the towering shelves. They were lined with books, hundreds of forbidden and semi-forbidden volumes ... half of them written in Old Script or a couple of languages that dated back to the mythical days before the Thousand-Year Empire. I could read them, barely - my parents had taught me four different languages as I grew older - but half of the knowledge within their pages was either outdated or warped in some way. My mother had often complained that many of the great brewers had changed their recipes, concealing key details from their readers. I’d helped her experiment - trying to fill in the gaps - enough to know she had a point.
Although it might not have been deliberate, I thought. They took so much for granted that they never realised we might not know what they knew.
“A good read, isn't it?”
I jumped. I’d been more twitchy than usual over the past month - Alana had been on the warpath - but Apprentice Vassilios had still managed to sneak up on me. I hadn't even known Dad had granted him access to the upper library, although he must have. No one could enter without Dad’s permission. I certainly couldn't have broken into the library without taking my life in both hands.
“It’s a creepy read,” I said. “The author was a right nutcase.”
I turned to look at him. Vassilios was tall and thin, only marginally shorter than Dad. His hair, already greying because of an accident back in school, was cropped close to his scalp, giving him a severe look. There was something about him that worried me, an odd disdain that was clearly evident in every word he spoke. He looked down on everyone, except my father. And he never spoke to me unless he had no choice.
“Most of the old magicians were of dubious sanity,” Vassilios informed me. “But they pushed the limits of the possible.”
I shrugged. I’d heard the debate before and I hadn’t cared much then, either. There was no point in worrying, as long as I couldn't work magic. I couldn't cast basic spells, let alone push the limits of the possible. And I really didn't want to be anywhere near Vassilios. I got quite enough sneering from my sisters.
“It doesn't matter,” I said. I picked up the book and returned it to the shelf. “I’ll see you later.”
He looked faintly disgusted - as if he had smelt something unpleasant - as I turned and walked out the door. I ignored him as best as I could. Dad had chosen him as an apprentice and that meant we were stuck with him, at least until he gained his mastery. No doubt Vassilios would go on to be a valued member of Dad’s patronage network, one of many working to advance the family’s interests in Magus Court. And I ...
I fought down a wave of bitter despair as I reached my room and threw myself down on the bed. There was no escapin
g it. I was going to Jude’s ... and I wasn't likely to leave again, whatever happened. Some of the horror stories were actually true. The trunk sitting in the middle of my room mocked me, a grim reminder of all the supplies we’d purchased and packed over the last week. I might have enjoyed it, perhaps, if I hadn't known it spelt my doom. There were some classes, perhaps, I could take without magic ... but I didn't have a hope of passing the practicals.
There was a sharp tap at the door. “Mum says you have to come to dinner,” Bella called, through the wood. “Now!”
I groaned. The cook had prepared a feast to celebrate our last day at home - as if we weren't going to come back - but I knew it would taste like ashes in my mouth. I was going to be humiliated, if I was lucky. At worst ... I might not survive the first month. There were plenty of horror stories about students who’d been seriously injured or killed and there was a grain of truth in most of them. Careless students, stupid students ... at least they’d had magic. I had none.
But there was no point in trying to defy Mum. She’d just use magic to haul me down to the dining room. I stood, checked my appearance in the mirror and hurried down the stairs. The smell of roast turkey and all the trimmings wafted up to greet me. Mum was standing by the table, looking impatient. I bowed my head in apology and took my seat. A second later, I heard a loud raspberry. I jumped up in shock.
Alana giggled. I glared at her. “Oh, very mature.”
“This is your last day before school,” Mum said, gently. For once, she sounded almost relaxed. “You’ll meet a better class of practical joker there.”
I snorted as I sat down, more gingerly this time. Alana was good enough to put a second spell on the chair, hidden under the first. But nothing happened as my father started to cut up the turkey and load up the plates.
“White meat only, please,” Bella said. “Dad ...”
Dad shot her a sharp look. “You’ll eat what you’re given.”
“I’m looking forward to going to school,” Alana said, just a little too loudly. “I want to try out for team captain and ...”
“You don’t get to be captain until you’re an upperclassman,” Mum said. Alana looked downcast. “And you normally have to hex all your rivals before you get the post.”
Dad smiled. “Was that how you became team captain?”
“No one dared oppose me,” Mum said. She smiled back at him. “And I had been playing netball since second year. The team wanted to keep some continuity after the last captain and three of the players graduated.”
I kept my face expressionless. Alana had been talking about netball all month, but only as a way to network with other schools and students. She didn't want to play merely for the fun of it. I couldn’t help finding that somewhat pitiable. I would have liked to play, if I’d been able to cast the spells. As it was ...
“It should be great,” Alana said. “We’ll sleep in a dorm, we’ll have midnight feasts, we’ll ...”
“Great,” I said, sourly. I’d never be able to get away from my fellow students. Jude’s was in Shallot - we could see the towers from our bedrooms - but students weren't allowed to leave the school during term. Alana would love it. I’d find it a nightmare. “What will you do if the Dorm Head refuses to turn a blind eye?”
“Bribe her, of course,” Alana said. She smiled, confidently. “The family name ...”
“... Will not get you out of trouble, young lady,” Dad said, sternly. “And if you want to waste your inheritance bribing upperclassmen, you’re being silly.”
Alana batted her eyelashes at him. It looked profoundly unnatural. “But Dad ...”
“But nothing,” Dad said. He tapped the table, sharply. “The family name is not to be taken lightly. You are not to expect that people will bow the knee to you, merely because you carry my name. You are to earn the right to have people bow to you.”
He leaned forward. “I would be most displeased if I heard you were using our name as a weapon,” he added. “And you would regret it.”
Alana looked down. “Dad ...”
“You need to be worthy of the name,” Dad said. “You have to earn it.”
Bella and I exchanged glances. Triplets or not, only one of us could inherit Dad’s position ... and I wouldn’t have cared to bet against Alana. Bella was lazy, too lazy to put in the work necessary to maintain the family; I couldn't cast a basic cantrip, let alone modify the wards protecting the hall. Dad would have to pick Alana as his successor by default, unless he chose to seek a successor from our cousins. And Mum would be furious if he chose to look outside the immediate family.
“This will be a challenge,” Mum added. She sliced her turkey slowly. “But we have faith in you.”
“You’re sending Caitlyn into a school she cannot handle,” Alana pointed out. Her voice dripped sweet reason. “She will ...”
“She will have all the time and encouragement she needs to develop her powers,” Dad said, firmly. “You will help her, of course.”
Alana shot me a bitter look. She’d hate trying to help me, particularly as she believed it would be futile. Bella wouldn't be much better. Sure, she wasn't often malicious - although she’d hexed me badly a few weeks ago - but she was lazy. I had the feeling she’d do as little work as she could get away with, once she was in school. Perhaps I could work with her ...
“Of course, Dad,” Alana said, sweetly.
Dad’s eyes narrowed. Only a complete idiot would have believed her - and Dad was one of the smartest men I knew. Perhaps the smartest. Running the family alone was a full-time job.
“Remember the binding,” Dad said, finally. His voice hardened. “And remember - the weakest link isn't always the obvious.”
Alana lowered her eyes. “Yes, father.”
“You have an advantage because your parents are both magicians,” Dad added. “And that gave you an education many other students lack. But it has also made you dependent. Now ... you have to prove that you can stand on your own two feet. You have to learn to be strong and resourceful. What will happen after I die?”
I shuddered. I knew precisely what Alana would do, after our parents died. Her very first step would be to kick me out, if she was feeling generous. If not ... I didn't want to think about it.
The turkey was perfect, the potatoes crisp and yet soft ... even the vegetables tasted nice, after Mum glared me into eating them. And the pudding was utterly wonderful. But it still felt like my last meal before death. Tomorrow, I’d put on the uniform and walk with my family to Jude’s and then ... would I come home again? The family name wouldn't protect me, not if Dad was right. There would be too many students keen to test the latest generation.
“The family depends on you,” Dad said, when we had finally finished the meal. He rose and beckoned us into the sitting room. We followed him, surprised. “And we have faith that you will rise to the challenge.”
Thanks, I thought, sourly.
Alana looked pleased as Lucy poured us all small glasses of fruit juice. My parents had never allowed us to join them in the sitting room after dinner, not until now. It was for grown-ups, we’d been told. The children - us and any guests - went elsewhere. But now ... I sipped my juice, feeling very young indeed. Dad was right. All three of us - even me - had lived a protected life. Now ... we were going out into the big wide world, where our family name was as much a curse as it was a blessing.
And I’m completely defenceless, I thought, morbidly. All someone has to do is shoot a spell at me if they want to test the rumours.
I’d made a small collection of Devices, but Dad had confiscated them the moment he’d checked my trunk. They were forbidden, he’d explained. I’d argued, to no avail. Students weren't allowed Devices of Power unless they were forged in the school itself. There was a risk of someone producing a genuinely dangerous Device ...
“But I know what I’m doing,” I’d protested.
“They don’t know that,” Dad had countered. “And they won’t make exceptions for you.”
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“You have seven years of schooling to enjoy,” Dad said. The way he said it suggested that endure would probably be a better word. “After that, you will be adults. You can enter apprenticeship contracts or live apart from us or even get married. And then, you will speak to us as equals.”
As if, I thought.
“And the whole world will open up before you,” Mum added. She smiled, clearly remembering something from her life before becoming a mother. “You may travel, if you wish.”
I would have liked that, once upon a time. I’d never left Shallot, not even when Dad had travelled to Tintagel to consult with the king’s sorcerers. The maps had fascinated me - I’d read all the stories of great explorers prowling the oceans or probing the Desolation where the Thousand-Year Empire’s capital had once been. I’d never been put off by stories of wild magic and strange transformations. But as I’d grown older, I’d come to realise that my complete lack of a gift hampered me in more ways than one. I might never be allowed to leave the hall and explore.
The Zero Blessing Page 4