The Zero Blessing

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The Zero Blessing Page 6

by Christopher Nuttall


  And enemies, I thought, morbidly.

  “You will spend the rest of the day unpacking, learning about your dorm and exploring the school,” the Castellan concluded. “Lunch is served at one o’clock, dinner is served at six; classes will start tomorrow, at nine. Your timetables are already waiting for you in your dorms. I suggest you spend some time locating the different classrooms so you aren't late.”

  He gave us a toothy smile. “And listen to your Dorm Head,” he added. He waved a hand towards the rear of the hall, where a dozen older students stood. Each of them had an illusionary animal hovering over their heads. “Good luck!”

  I looked down at the badge in my hand. A raven, a golden raven. I shook my head, then followed the other students to the upperclassmen. Neither Alana nor Bella seemed to be in Raven Dorm, thankfully. Alana had picked out a golden cat, while Bella had chosen a nasty-looking shark. I hoped that wasn't a bad omen. The upperclassman - a girl four years older than me - peered down her nose at us, then shrugged. She didn’t seem very interested in us.

  And then Isabella strode up and stood next to me. I glanced at her in surprise, then looked away as she waved goodbye to her brother. She was a raven? I looked back at her, just in time to see her pin the badge to her blazer. She was a raven.

  I felt my heart sink, even as the upperclassman counted the ten of us before turning and leading us through the door. Sharing a dorm with my sisters would have been bad, but sharing one with my family’s rival? The daughter of my family’s rival? It was going to be very bad.

  “Make sure you have your badges on,” the upperclassman said. “You’ll need them to get into the dorm.”

  I pinned mine on, feeling cold. I was doomed.

  Chapter Six

  Raven Dorm was nicer than I had expected, to be fair. Two large windows, charmed to keep people from peering in, allowed sunlight to stream into the room. Eleven beds and bedside cabinets, surrounded by drapes for privacy; four showers and a bath ... the walls were bare, of course, but Mum had told us that we were expected to decorate the walls ourselves, using magic. I just hoped no one paid close attention when I decided not to decorate my part of the dorm. Our trunks were stacked neatly against the far wall, our names clearly visible in the light. It would have been nice, I thought, if I’d been able to relax. I’d expected to be hexed in the back all the way to the dorm.

  The upperclassman clapped her hands together. “All right, you lot,” she said. She sat on the front bed. It was larger than the others, clearly intended to show her importance. “Gather around me, please. There isn't much time.”

  I did as I was told, taking the opportunity to study her more carefully. She was pale, her skin so white that it was almost translucent. Her eyes were a faint pink - I wasn't sure if that was normal or if she’d had a magical accident over the last few years - and her nose was so small that I would have believed it belonged to a toddler. She was slight, yet she carried herself with an assurance I envied. Alana would have envied it. There wasn't the slightest doubt in her mind, I thought, that she was in charge.

  Isabella recoiled, just for a second. The girl next to her recoiled too. I blinked in surprise, then looked at the upperclassman. She was looking back at me, her eyes narrowing speculatively. I realised my mistake a moment later. She’d flared her magic, just enough to make it clear that she was more powerful than the ten of us put together, but I hadn't reacted to the surge. Of course not. I couldn't sense it. And now she thought I was challenging her.

  I groaned, inwardly. Of all the things to happen ...

  “For those of you who don’t know me,” the upperclassman said, “my name is Sandy Macpherson. You’ve probably heard of my family, but I suggest you put everything you know out of your heads. The only thing you need to remember is that I'm a fifth-year student who has been ... selected ... to serve as your Dorm Head for the next year. That means you do what I say.”

  Ouch, I thought.

  House Macpherson was neutral, if I recalled correctly. Dad had certainly drilled all the major families into my head, along with our allies, enemies and rivals. Too small to pose a significant threat to the balance of power, House Macpherson tended to stay out of Magus Court as much as possible. Sandy ... was probably caught between two fires, with Isabella and me sharing a dorm. Any hint of favouritism could reflect badly on her.

  “Now, I have to start preparing for the upper-level exams,” Sandy continued. “And that means I have less time to tend to you babies than I might have wished. If you need help, you can seek me out ... but if the problem is one you could have solved by yourselves, I will make you wish you had. I’m here to keep order, not to hold your hand, help you with your homework or give you the answers on a silver plate. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes,” I muttered.

  Sandy’s eyes swept the room. “Basic rules first, then,” she said. “Each of you has a bed, which you can choose after I finish speaking. You are expected to make the bed every morning before class and change the sheets every weekend - that’s pillows, duvet and mattress cover. Each of you will also spend at least one day each term cleaning the toilets and dorm floor. If you can't do your duty, I’ll show you how; if you won’t do your duty, I’ll stand over you until you do.

  “I imagine most of you have brought cake or chocolate from home. If you want to eat it in the dorm, clean up the mess afterwards. The same goes for anything you buy from the tuck shop or sneak out of the kitchens for a midnight feast. I will be most displeased if you make a mess and refuse to clean it up.”

  Isabella coughed. “No servants?”

  Sandy sneered at her. “No,” she said. “You are expected to pick up after yourselves for the first time in your lives.”

  I flushed, suddenly understanding why Mum had insisted we make our own beds over the last month. She’d known what was coming and had worked to prepare us for it. But I’d never mastered the cleaning spells I’d need to do the bathrooms. How could I?

  “Lights Out is at nine o’clock, every evening,” Sandy continued, snapping out point after point. Her voice was growing sharper. “You will not be able to get an excuse note from your teachers, so don’t bother to try. You should all be in the dorm by then, tucked up in bed. Do not try to read under the covers, because you need your sleep. If you are caught outside the dorm after that, expect to suffer for making me look bad. Rest assured that I will take any black mark I get on my record out on you.

  “If you have any disputes or disagreements, I expect you to handle them carefully - and without getting the staff involved. Don’t go sneaking to the staff unless you want to become Miss Unpopular. Talk, argue ... if you want to fight, you can clear a space and have at each other. I will be most displeased if you cause any damage to the school or any innocent bystanders.”

  She paused. “Not that there are any innocent bystanders in this school.”

  It was a joke, I thought. But I didn’t find it very funny.

  Sandy didn't smile. “You are not to damage each other’s property,” she rattled off. “If you do, the cost of replacing it will be taken from your pocket money or billed to your parents, if you don’t have enough money in your account. You are not allowed to invite any boys into the dorm. I don’t care who they are or what they want - they’re not allowed to enter. You can invite other girls into the dorm, provided they are quiet and don’t disturb anyone. If they do, I will ban them from entering and key the wards to reject them. Do you have any questions?”

  There were none. Somehow, I wasn't surprised.

  “Very good,” Sandy said. She pointed to the nearest bed. “You’ll each find a large packet on your beds. They’re all the same, so don’t waste time trying to choose. Inside, you’ll find two notebooks and your timetables. You--” she jabbed a finger at a girl I didn't know “--take one of those packets and open it.”

  The girl hesitated, then did as she was told. Two black notebooks fell out.

  “Keep the timetable, for the moment,” Sandy ord
ered. She held up the first notebook. “This is your spellbook. Make sure you write your name on the cover. Every time you master a spell - not learn it, master it - you write it down in the book. They’ll be inspected at the end of each month, so be careful. Improper spell notation will get you detention. Do not play games with this because the charms magisters will not be amused.”

  I nodded. Dad had drilled that into me too, although he’d grown more and more reluctant to continue as my lack of magic became apparent. A mistake could cause the spell to fail - or go spectacularly wrong. There were horror stories about that too.

  “The second book,” Sandy added, “is your punishment book. Carry it with you at all times - you’ll be given detention if you’re caught without it. Every time you get a punishment or a detention, it will be written into these pages. Should I give you lines to write, you will write them in the book; should you be given detention by a teacher, the time and place will also be written here. Most detentions are served on Saturday or Sunday, but there are exceptions. Try not to be one.”

  She smiled, rather unpleasantly. “Yes, I can make you write lines until your fingers start to cramp,” she warned. “And so can any other upperclassman. So behave.”

  There was a long, awkward pause. “You’ll pick up the rest as you go along,” Sandy finished, snidely. “Until then ... any questions?”

  A redheaded girl held up a hand. “When do we write to our parents?”

  “Whenever we want,” Sandy said. She gave the girl an oddly reassuring smile. I wondered if she was trying to be nice. “Official letter-writing day is Sunday and you are all expected to write a letter, but you can write additional letters whenever you want. Bear in mind the postal service outside the city isn't good. It may be weeks before your letter reaches home.”

  Another girl leaned forward. “Where do we collect our pocket money?”

  “From the office, after lunch,” Sandy said. She snorted. “And I suggest, if you brought more money in your trunk, that you don't show it off.”

  She glanced from face to face. “Pick a bed, get unpacked, then I suggest you spend the rest of the day exploring the school and meeting new friends,” she said. She rose. “Don’t be late for lunch or dinner - you’ll regret it. And don’t bother me unless it’s urgent.”

  I watched her go, then tried to choose a bed. Most of the girls hurried towards the rear of the room, trying to stay as far from Sandy’s bed as possible. I didn't blame them. Part of me was tempted to stay close to Sandy, but I doubted she’d be any help if I got into a fight. The school didn't encourage the upperclassmen to police the lowerclassmen that thoroughly. I picked a bed, then sat down on it and opened the packet. Two notebooks and a timetable fell into my hand. I took a pen from my pocket and scribbled my name on the cover - both covers - and then unfolded the timetable. It was surprisingly detailed, accounting for every hour of the day between nine in the morning and four in the afternoon. There would be barely any time to myself.

  Not that it matters, I thought. I never had much time to myself anyway.

  “I think they should allow us to bring our pets,” Isabella said, loudly. She was talking to two twin girls I vaguely recognised. “My cat wouldn't have caused any trouble.

  “Nor would my snake,” one of the girls said. “But not everyone has a pet.”

  “They could all have pets,” Isabella insisted. “They could give us all pets!”

  I sighed, inwardly, as I placed the girls. Ayesha and Zeya McDonald. House McDonald was another neutral family, but they were considerably more powerful than House Macpherson. I didn't blame Isabella for trying to make friends with their daughters. Even if their family remained neutral, friendship might tip them towards aiding Isabella and her family. Behind them, Amber Alidade and Clarian Bolingbroke were having an argument over some long-standing dispute that dated back to their grandparents’ grandparents. I silently rooted for Amber as I readied myself to duck, if the hexes started flying. Clarian was a distant relative on my mother’s side, but she’d turned me into a pig three years ago and laughed when I complained.

  Shaking my head, I hurried to the wall to pick up my trunk and drag it back to the bed. Mum had packed some cake, wrapping it in protective spells ... I think she meant to give me incentive to learn how to cancel the spells. Henry’s finest chocolate cake would remain perfectly preserved, until I brought it out of stasis. But I couldn't even begin to crack the spells. I put the cake aside, then silently unpacked my clothes and books, using a crayon to draw out a handful of protective runes of questionable value. They might buy me some time, but I doubted they’d slow down a magician for very long. They just didn’t have enough time to charge. The only advantage to going to Jude’s, as far as I could tell, was that Mum wouldn't be making remarks about unsuitable choices of reading material.

  There was a flash of light. I ducked, instinctively, as I glanced towards Amber. Clarian was gone ... it took me a moment to notice the snail on her bed. Amber giggled, then turned away. Clarian would be alright, of course. The spell wouldn't last very long. No one, not even Great Aunt Stregheria, could make such a spell last indefinitely without careful preparation. But she would be embarrassed and humiliated and ...

  The redheaded girl - I didn't recognise her - looked nervous. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at her. What did she have to worry about? She probably knew a dozen defensive spells ... Alana, for all of her faults, had mastered over thirty by the time she turned nine. There were adults who hadn't learned so many. She flushed when she saw me looking at her and turned away. I wasn't sure what that meant. Maybe she’d heard my name mentioned somewhere and thought I was just as good as my sister. Or maybe ...

  I felt a prickling and looked up. Isabella was staring at me, her blue eyes boring into my brown ones. I lifted my head and stared back at her, refusing to back down. It was stupid, perhaps, but I knew from bitter experience that showing weakness to a bully was a dreadful mistake. She was more powerful than me - that could not be disputed - but that didn't mean I was powerless.

  She stared at me for a long moment. I could see her lips twitching, as if she was readying herself to cast a spell. I readied myself too ... if I jumped down, I should be able to get out of the line of fire. And then ... a loud croaking from Amber caught our attention, breaking the trance. Clarian had recovered from Amber’s spell and hexed her in the back, while she wasn't looking. I allowed myself a moment of relief as I picked up the timetable and both notebooks and stuffed them into my pocket, before heading out the door. Isabella was a problem I couldn't solve, yet. My time would be better spent exploring the school.

  I was glad I had, by the end of the day. The building might have looked odd from the outside, but it was a positive nightmare on the inside. Corridors seemed to run in all directions, classrooms were scattered about madly with little rhyme or reason ... it took me hours to get a rough impression of how the school was actually organised. I was nearly late for dinner because I got lost twice. Walking through Jude’s was like walking through the Family Labyrinth, only with the added risk of magical traps or being hexed in the back - or getting lost completely. By the time we were gently reminded to head back to the dorm, I was tired and worn.

  At least Alana and Bella seem to be enjoying themselves, I thought, sourly. They’d both been sitting at different tables during dinner, chatting to small crowds of adoring fans. Neither of them had bothered to pay any attention to me. They’ll have a happy time here.

  “Lights Out in fifty minutes,” Sandy said, warningly. Her voice was quiet, but it caught our attention. I thought she was definitely using a spell. “If you haven't showered, go shower now.”

  I wasn't the only one to look unhappy as we hurried to wash, get into our nightclothes and then get into bed. But there was no choice. Sandy moved up and down the dorm, barking orders and encouragement to anyone who wasn't moving fast enough to suit her. I pulled the drapes closed, hoping I’d be left in peace, then climbed into bed. My bed felt surprising
ly comfortable, but I couldn't help feeling vulnerable. The other students would have cast protective spells - and traps - on their possessions ... I couldn't, of course. None of the protective amulets I could have forged would have been that effective, not against real sorcerers. Or even sorcerers in training.

  The lights went out five minutes later. There was a faint light surrounding the bathroom door, but otherwise the dorm fell into utter darkness. Silence fell too, broken only by a stifled sob. It was quiet, but it sounded very loud in the quiet room.

  Sandy spoke a second later. “What was that?”

  “I miss my mother,” a plaintive voice said. I couldn't place it, but whatever she said next was lost in giggles. Everyone was laughing at her, everyone but me. I missed my mother too. “I ...”

  “Be quiet,” Sandy snapped. I heard her mutter an incantation, just loudly enough for me to hear. A silencing spell, I thought. Whoever was sobbing could no longer be heard. I hoped that meant she’d merely been silenced, instead of being frozen in place or thrown into an uncomfortable sleep. “You’ll all be kicked out of bed at eight thirty, if you’re not up by then so ... get some sleep.”

 

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