The Zero Blessing

by Christopher Nuttall

  Rose glanced at me. I shrugged.

  “Everything has magic,” Magistra Loanda continued. “Everything. A common potato has magic that can be unlocked and used, if done properly. So too can everything from garden herbs right up to dragon scales. Indeed, the latter have so much magic that using them in a potion without proper preparation is nothing more than signing your own death warrant.”

  Her lips twisted. “Rest assured, you will not be working with such materials.

  “In class, you will be preparing and brewing potions,” she informed us. “You will go through everything from cutting up the ingredients to actually brewing the potion and unlocking its magic. I will give you the recipes and you will follow them, slavishly. You are not to experiment with changing the recipe in any way. If you feel you can change a potion and improve on it, give me a written statement of what you intend to do and I may - I may - let you try it. And if I catch you trying to modify a recipe without permission, you will regret it.

  “Outside class, you will study the different potions ingredients and their interactions. You will understand the how and the why as well as the what. Some of you may think you already know all this, but I expect you to do it anyway. I want proof you know. There is to be no brewing outside class without supervision, which will be offered on a twice-weekly basis to the first twelve who put their names on the rota. The older students will serve as supervisors and they have, at least in the classroom, the power to give detentions.”

  I groaned, inwardly. My punishment book already felt heavier. Was it charmed to remind me that I had work to do? Or was it merely my imagination?

  Magistra Loanda leaned forward. “Should you survive the next four years,” she added, “you will be upperclassmen, who have considerably more freedom to experiment. By then, you will be expected to know all the rules - and the reasoning behind the rules. And it is for that reason that your first homework assignment will be to determine that reasoning. I suggest you write the rules down instead of trusting to your memory.”

  We scrambled for our notebooks as she started to rattle off the rules, her voice echoing around the classroom. “Follow the recipe to the letter. Ask if you don’t understand anything before trying it. Inform a member of staff if a bottle of supplies is running out. Do not interfere with another brewer’s potion. Get under the table if the air above your potion turns red, as it is about to explode ...”

  My wrist ached by the time I had finished. Rose looked to be in agony.

  “Very good,” Magistra Loanda said. She clicked her fingers. A detailed recipe appeared on the blackboard. “The tools and ingredients are in the storerooms. I expect each of you to produce a perfect result, first time.”

  Rose muttered a word under her breath. It didn't sound pleasant.

  “It’s a simple recipe,” I assured her. She would find it easy. “It just looks complicated.”

  “I never had to cook like this,” Rose said.

  “Potions and cooking are not the same thing,” I said. Mum had told us that they were nothing alike. It was possible to recover from a mistake while cooking, she’d said, but a great deal harder to save a potion after making a misstep. “Don't say that to her or you’ll regret it.”

  Rose nodded as we stood and hurried to the storeroom. It was huge, the walls lined with bottles and jars that towered up into the distance. Each one was clearly marked in three different languages, something that puzzled me until I realised that there could be no room for misunderstandings. Adding salamander skulls instead of gorgon eyes would be disastrous, even if one was experimenting with varying the recipe. The surge of magic would be powerful enough to cause a big explosion. I was surprised, coming to think of it, that the recipe hadn't been written in three languages too.

  “Take a caldron,” I told her. “And a bucket of water. I’ll get the rest.”

  Alana nudged me. “Pointless, isn't it?”

  I ignored her as best as I could. But she was right. She could splash a handful of herbs at random into boiling water and produce miracles, while I could follow the recipe perfectly and still wind up with expensive sludge. Mum had never seemed to care, but I knew some of the ingredients I’d wasted were costly. The only upside was that she could make the potions work herself, after I’d given up.

  Back at the desk, we washed both caldrons thoroughly, along with the scale pan, the chopping block, the stirrers and the knives. Cold water wasn't a problem, not for firstie potions, but dust and the remnants of someone else’s potion would be rather more disastrous. Magistra Loanda’s eyes passed over us - just for a second, I thought I saw her nod in approval - before moving to Alana. Her eyes narrowed so sharply that I thought she was about to start shooting fire. She was not happy.

  “How many of you,” she asked coldly, “didn't think to wash the equipment before using it?”

  Alana looked down, hastily. “Five of you washed your equipment,” Magistra Loanda said, sternly. I noticed that both Isabella and Akin looked relieved. “Only five. These are not caldrons you can vouch for, are they? Wash them!”

  Her eyes grew colder. So did the room.

  “These caldrons have not been touched since last term, two months ago,” Magistra Loanda reminded us. “You do not know they are clean. Wash them!”

  I concealed my amusement with an effort. Alana had grown too used to having the servants wash her equipment, back home. But then, she’d never really had the patience for potions. I would have washed everything for a year, if I’d actually managed to produce more than sludge ...

  Rose frowned. “I would have missed that,” she said. “Thank you.”

  “Assume someone’s used the tools unless you know otherwise,” I muttered back. I checked the recipe again, mentally listing the ingredients. “All you need is someone forgetting to wash up afterwards to have an explosion - or worse.”

  Magistra Loanda strode backwards and forwards as we found our ingredients, snapping out instructions and horror stories. One girl had labelled the wrong bottles and accidentally killed herself - Mum had told me something similar, although she hadn't been quite so gruesome when she'd detailed the results. Another had mixed up two different ingredients and managed to turn herself inside out; a third had somehow blinded the whole class; a fourth had somehow managed to create slime monsters that had crawled around the classroom for hours before finally being removed by the cleaning staff and dumped in the sewers. I made a mental note never even to consider going into the sewers as long as I lived, even though I thought she was joking. But then, my father had said there were all sorts of weird things below the ground.

  “Get everything ready first,” I said, as I sorted out the bowls. “It saves time when you’re actually brewing.”

  Mum had done me a big favour, I realised. She’d taught me how to prepare the ingredients perfectly. Rose copied me, but just about everyone else was snapped at by Magistra Loanda as she walked around the room, pointing out mistakes in an increasingly nasty tone. I couldn't help wondering why she bothered to teach, if she hated children, although I did have to admit that an explosion in a crowded classroom could be very dangerous. Glancing at the door, I silently evaluated just how long it would take to run, if the air turned nasty. The wards should protect us from danger, but Magistra Loanda might just let us cough on smoke as an object lesson.

  I wished, as I lit the flame under my caldron, that we’d been allowed to partner up. I might have been able to hide my failings for a little longer. But Magistra Loanda had forbidden it, unsurprisingly. She wanted - she needed - to have a good idea of where we each were, before moving us along. I had the feeling that I would wind up partnered with Rose permanently, although I didn't really mind that now. She needed help ...

  “When you were back home,” I asked, “did you cook?”

  Rose nodded. “I was helping my parents almost as soon as I could walk. My brothers would go work in the fields all day, while my sisters and I would clean the house and cook their dinner. We had a good crop
last year, but the baron took half of it and ...”

  She broke off. “I ...”

  “Tax,” I said. Taxmen didn't come to Aguirre Hall, of course, but Dad paid a certain amount each year to Magus Court. Very few taxmen were brave enough to approach a lone sorcerer, let alone a whole family. “Ouch.”

  “He’ll want my earnings too,” Rose predicted.

  “Live in the city,” I advised. “You don’t get taxed so badly here.”

  Rose shrugged as the water started to boil, then poured in the first set of ingredients. I felt a sinking feeling in my chest as I followed suit, reminding myself that the first set needed to boil for ten minutes before adding the next set. I could get quite some distance without magic, I knew, but eventually ... eventually I’d have to use magic. And I couldn't.

  “Very good preparation,” Magistra Loanda said. “Why did you wash the ginger root after cutting away the skin?”

  “There might have been traces of dirt on the knife,” I said. I’d cleaned the knife, of course, but there was no point in taking chances. A grain of dirt might pass unnoticed ... or the potion might explode spectacularly. Water droplets wouldn't cause problems. “I wanted to be sure.”

  “Good,” Magistra Loanda said. She narrowed her eyes at Rose. “And why have you kept this?”

  I followed her gaze. It was a piece of root, but it was clearly old and decayed. I would have thrown it out without hesitation. Rose looked pale and started to stammer as the older woman glared down at her. She mumbled something, too quiet for me to hear.

  “Speak up, girl,” Magistra Loanda ordered. “Why didn't you throw it out?”

  Rose paled further. “It’s still usable,” she said. “I ...”

  “It’s useless,” Magistra Loanda said, flatly. She picked up the root and threw it over her shoulder, without looking. It still landed neatly in the bin. “I don’t know where you were brought up ...”

  “In the poorhouse,” someone muttered.

  “Detention,” Magistra Loanda said, lifting her gaze to skewer the speaker. Gasps echoed around the room. It seemed a little harsh, I was sure. “Let me assure you, young lady, that we have ample supplies of everything you need. Find a new piece of root and chop it up. You won’t be billed for it.”

  She stalked off to terrorise the other students. I shot Rose a reassuring look - it helped that she wasn't the only one to feel Magistra Loanda’s sharp tongue - and then added the next set of ingredients. The potion started to bubble, smelling almost like soup. I would have thought it was soup too, if I hadn't known better. Drinking it would give me a tummy upset, at best.

  “I’ll take care of the potion,” I told her. Magistra Loanda might complain, but Rose had already started. Someone had to keep an eye on the simmering liquid. “You go get the root.”

  We went through the rest of the process without incident, although I whispered a couple of pieces of advice to Rose. It helped that Magistra Loanda was distracted by a pair of explosions - somehow, Isabella and Zeya had managed to make a dreadful mistake. But, all too soon, the time came to make the final step. I picked up the stirrer and lowered it into the mixture, silently praying to the fates that something would happen. But nothing did ...

  I glanced at Rose. Her potion was now a lovely shimmering blue. My heart clenched, in rage or frustration or jealousy ... It was perfect. Utterly perfect. I could practically see the magic rising from the liquid. Mum would have been thrilled if I’d presented her with such a brew ...

  She looked back at me. “What’s wrong?”

  I stirred my potion, savagely. Splashes of boiling liquid flew in all directions, but nothing happened. I thought I heard someone titter, behind me. Potions were simple, potions were easy ... someone could make a potion without very much magic at all. I let go of the stirrer and slumped backwards. I was doomed. Magistra Loanda would see my failure and ... and what? Feel sorry for Mum because of her useless daughter? Or take pride in her rival’s failure? Or ...

  Rose reached out and stirred my potion. It turned blue. It was perfect. I’d brewed it perfectly. Everything was perfect, except me.

  I saw red. I kicked the table so hard that the caldron flew off and crashed to the floor. Rose stared at me, her face shocked, as I stood and fled for the door. Someone called after me, but I didn't listen. I burst through the door and ran.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I didn't know where I was going. Not really. I ran up the stairs and along corridors, ignoring all shouts and cries until I finally reached the roof. Cold air, blown off the sea, slapped against my face, bringing me back to reality. But reality was a nightmare ... I sank down on the rooftop and cried. There was no escape from my curse, from ...

  I’d done everything right, I knew. I’d brewed the mixture perfectly. But it still wouldn't turn into a potion without magic, magic I couldn't infuse into the liquid. Rose had made it work, underlying my failure. The pride I’d felt in besting Isabella, in humiliating her in front of everyone, faded to nothingness. It wouldn't be long before the rumours started again, if they’d ever gone away. The entire class had seen my failure.

  I rose and peered west. The port was clearly visible, a dozen sailing ships prepping for a trading mission to somewhere I’d never see. Birds wheeled in the sky overhead, their cries mocking me. They enjoyed a freedom I would never have, not ever ... I wanted to walk to the edge and jump off, even though it was certain death. At least it would be an end. But something in me refused to just give up.

  The air grew colder. I could see dark clouds sweeping in from the east. It was going to rain soon ... I knew I should go inside, but why bother? There was nothing waiting for me, apart from humiliation. I sat back on the ground and closed my eyes, trying to focus, trying - one final time - to touch the magic inside me. But there was no response. I don't know why I even bothered to try. I’d long since grown used to failure.

  My eyes snapped open. Rose stepped onto the roof.

  I felt a surge of hatred, mingled with bitter frustration. “Go away.”

  Rose looked back at me, nothing but raw compassion in her eyes. Somehow, that made it worse. I would almost sooner be scorned than pitied. My father’s attempts to teach me, my mother’s patient lessons over the caldron ... the pity and ill-hidden shame in their eyes when they realised I had no magic ... I was used to that, now. Rose didn't understand, not yet. I knew she’d turn on me when she did.

  “You shouldn't be alone,” she said. She walked over to me and sat down, wrapping her arms around herself as it grew colder. “What happened?”

  “None of your beeswax,” I growled. “Go away.”

  Rose ignored me. I don’t know why I was surprised. It wasn't as if anyone paid any attention to a lowly zero. Even Mum and Dad weren't quite as interested in listening to me as they were in listening to my sisters, although they would never admit it. They knew, even if they didn't want to think about it, that they’d have to disown me eventually, just to preserve something of the family’s position.

  “What happened?” she asked, again. “The potion was perfect.”

  I laughed, bitterly. “Of course the potion was perfect,” I snapped. “Of course it was perfect.”

  She gave me an odd look, as if I’d started speaking in tongues. “And it worked,” she said, puzzled. I thought she was needling me, but her face was open and honest. “What’s the problem?”

  I looked back at her, fighting down the urge to lash out. Rose ... all my bitterness and resentment meant nothing, not in the long run. She would go on to a successful career, while I ... she didn't understand. She honestly didn't understand. And the longer I kept it from her, the harder it would be to take it when she finally - inevitably - abandoned me. She was trying to be friendly, yet ... she wouldn't want to be my friend once she knew the truth.

  “I don't have any magic,” I said, finally.

  Rose blinked. “You made the potion work ...”

  “I didn't make the potion work,” I snapped. Was she being dumb on
purpose? “You did! I cut up the ingredients and brewed everything, but it was you who gave it the magic to turn a sloppy smelly mess into a potion. You made it work.”

  “That’s not possible,” Rose said. “Is it?”

  “I’ve never had any magic,” I said, softly. The anger and resentment was draining away, leaving me feeling numb. “None at all.”

  She looked doubtful, so I held up my hand and cast a spell. The words were perfect, the gestures utterly precise ... Anna’s Amphibian was a very forgiving spell, if one had the power to push through any little missteps, but my casting was perfect. Rose should have been turned into a frog. And ... do I really need to say that nothing happened?