The Zero Blessing
Page 16
I fell into a routine as I worked my way down the shelves, picking out names and adding them to the list. It felt like the kind of work I’d done for Mum, back home ... I wondered, despite myself, if there was a future after all. But that rather depended on getting at least one degree. Magistra Loanda might not have realised that Rose had made the potion work, but I didn't expect our luck to hold forever. I made a mental note of some of the more interesting ingredients and their locations, then kept moving. And then the door opened ...
“You look a mess,” a familiar voice said. “Good thing the uniform is black, isn't it?”
I looked down. Robin Brandon was standing there, looking up.
“I heard you got into a spot of trouble,” he said. I scowled as I realised I was blocking his path further into the storerooms. “She got you counting the empty bottles?”
“Yeah,” I muttered. I scrambled down to the floor and pushed the ladder aside. “You in trouble too?”
“Nah, just thought I’d pop in to say hello,” Robin said. He towered over me as soon as I was on the ground. “And to let you know I found the rest of your stuff.”
I blinked. I’d almost forgotten. “Everything?”
“Yep,” Robin assured me. “I’ve got it all stowed away in my locker. Come to the common room this evening and I’ll let you have it.”
“Thanks,” I said. “The Casting Chalk came in handy.”
“I’ll bet it did,” Robin said. He leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Word is that you stormed out of class, slamming the door behind you.”
“I didn't slam the door,” I said. Or had I? I honestly couldn't remember. “But I did storm out.”
“Very impressive,” Robin said. “No one else has dared to do that for years,”
He made a show of glancing around the storeroom. “I’m surprised she hasn’t done something nastier to you.”
I looked down at my shirt. It was stained with dirt and grime. I was going to need to shower afterwards, if I managed to make it back to the dorm. Some passing upperclassman would probably toss me into the swimming pool, just to make sure I didn't tread mud through the school. Or cast a cleaning charm so powerful my clothes would fray.
“This is nasty enough,” I said, finally.
Robin clapped me on the back. “Just try and make it a little more spectacular next time,” he told me. “You’ve made more of a splash than John Johnston did when he was a mere firstie.”
I shrugged. I had no idea who John Johnston was, but I wasn't going to admit it. I’d look him up in the library, if I had time. Rose and I had been working on the basics, when we weren't working on homework. Thankfully, Henrietta’s homework had been easy. I’d done more complex exercises for Mum. If I managed to get out of the potions storerooms before the end of the day, I might even have time to do some of my own homework.
“Keep up the good work,” Robin added. “We’ll be watching you.”
I resisted the urge to stick my tongue out at his retreating back as I clambered back up the ladder and got back to work. There were hundreds of jars and only a handful of them needed to be replaced, but they all had to be checked. I lost track of time as I worked, only jerking back into awareness when I heard the door open again. This time, Magistra Loanda stood there, looking grim.
“It’s lunchtime,” she said. “How many bottles did you find?”
I glanced at the clock. Three hours? How had three hours managed to pass without me noticing? But the clock didn't lie.
“Fifteen bottles need to be replaced,” I said. “Seventeen more are on the borderline.”
She took my list and ran her eyes down it. “I’ll make sure to replace them all,” she said, drolly. “Running out of ingredients in class would be annoying.”
“Yes, Magistra,” I said.
Magistra Loanda nodded, then beckoned me into the classroom. “I do not expect to see such behaviour again, young lady,” she said. “You acted disgracefully.”
I nodded, trying to look submissive. “Yes, Magistra.”
“Your mother is one of the greatest brewers in the world,” Magistra Loanda added. “She will no doubt contact you to explain the error of your ways.”
I swallowed, hard. I’d hoped Magistra Loanda wouldn't contact my parents. Some hope!
“However, you appear to have done a good job,” Magistra Loanda said. “Next time, you will be scrubbing caldrons in warm water. I dare say you will find it an interesting experience.”
And an explosive one, I thought.
I wasn't stupid enough to say that out loud. Mum had told me that allowing different potions to mix together was asking for trouble. The interaction between normal potions was carefully controlled, but random mixing tended to lead to explosions - or worse. She’d told me that the potions mould sometimes developed intelligence and set out to take over the world - or at least the Hall - but I thought she was joking. Regardless, only an idiot would allow the remnants of a dozen different potions to mix. There might be just enough magic left in the various brews to trigger an explosion.
“Thank you,” I said, instead.
Magistra Loanda gave me a baleful stare. “Go back to your dorm and shower,” she ordered, shortly. “And I don’t want any more trouble from you.”
I nodded and fled out of the room before she could change her mind. The corridors were almost deserted - two-thirds of the school were either in the gardens or still in bed - and made it back without incident. Thankfully, the charms on my boots kept them from treading dirt inside the school. Sandy was lying on her bed when I entered, her eyes going wide when she saw me. And then she smiled.
“You do remember you’re going to be cleaning the washrooms, don't you?”
“You couldn't have planned it better,” I said. Provoking her wasn't wise, but I was too tired to care. “Well done.”
Sandy gave me a sharp look, but didn't bother to rise to the bait. “You have a couple of letters,” she said, instead. “They’re on your bed. Wash before you go to read them.”
I nodded and grabbed my dressing gown before hurrying into the washroom to shower. My clothes would have to be dumped in the hamper for laundry. I just hoped the washerwomen could get the stains out or I’d have to buy a new set. Mum and Dad wouldn't notice the cost, but Mum - at least - would be very sarcastic about it. It wouldn't have been that hard to wear an apron.
As soon as I was showered, I headed back to my bed and pulled the drapes closed. The two letters lay on the duvet, both covered in my father’s handwriting. I sat down and picked one at random to open. It contained the permission slip for Magister Tallyman and - surprisingly - a note of congratulations from my father. I felt a glow of warmth as I read it.
Caitlyn.
I am very proud that Magister Tallyman has seen fit to offer you the chance to work as one of his assistants. While I do not believe he will have any more success than any other Forger with his obsession, he is one of the leading men in his field and I am sure that you will learn a great deal from him. I will be happy, if necessary, to purchase materials and suchlike for you to use over the summer holidays.
My smile grew wider. He was proud of me!
My sole concern is that you will be partnered with Akin Rubén. I have heard little about the young man himself, but his father will not hesitate to insist that he shares anything he may discover about you with him. Their ambitions in Magus Court will not fade easily, Kitten. I advise you to be very careful around him. Naturally, anything you happen to discover that may be of interest to us should be forwarded to me at once.
I frowned. Akin Rubén hadn't given me any reason to think ill of him, apart from a really bad choice in sisters. But that hadn't been his fault, had it?
Do not waste this opportunity.
Your Loving Father, Joaquin Aguirre, High Magus of Magus Court
I had to smile, again. Father didn't need to sign his letters with his full name and title. I knew who he was. But the letters started to fade, even as I rerea
d it to fix the details in my mind. Dad had made sure no one else could read it. I suspected he’d probably charmed the envelope too.
Shaking my head, I opened the second letter. It was from my mother.
Caitlyn.
I was extremely displeased to hear about your decision to leave potions class on Tuesday. Magistra Loanda is an extremely experienced brewer who should be able to provide you with the training you require. (I notice that she gave your potion high marks, although she did have to recover traces from the floor.) I assume she will ensure that you receive sufficient punishment for this. Rest assured, I will take steps if you continue to act up in her class.
For the moment, I have ordered Henry not to send you any treats for the next two weeks.
I sighed. Mum wasn't pleased. She knew I loved Henry’s treats.
I understand, dear heart, your feelings about the school. Please remember that your father and I have only your best interests in mind. It is vitally important that you develop your talent and learn to fit into our community. The friends and contacts you make at Jude’s will follow you for the rest of your life. Making a good impression - and not just in front of your peers - is important.
Your father and I look forward to seeing you - all three of you - during half-term holidays. Until then, I remain.
Your Loving Mother, Lady Sorceress Sofia Aguirre, Potions Mistress.
I closed my eyes for a long moment. When I opened them, the letter was blank.
Of course, I thought. Mum wouldn't want her words shared with anyone else either.
I tore up the paper and dumped the remains in the bin, then rose and headed for the door. It was lunchtime. I could grab something to eat, then join Rose in the library. And then ... I swallowed, hard. We were going to have to practice spells, while planning revenge on Isabella. And then ...
“You appear alarmingly cheerful,” Sandy commented. “Is Magistra Loanda losing her touch?”
“My parents wrote to me,” I said. “Isn’t that good?”
“You do need to write to them tomorrow,” Sandy reminded me. “Can I trust you to do that?”
“Yes,” I said, stiffly. “But it would be so much easier if I could just walk over and see them.”
“They could also come crashing into the school at the slightest excuse,” Sandy pointed out, dryly. “You’d miss out on some of the experience.”
I scowled. “What experience?”
“Learning to stand on your own two feet,” Sandy said.
She gave me a twisted smile. “And you’re going to be doing the washrooms tomorrow,” she added, darkly. “Make sure you bring your toothbrush.”
“... No,” I said.
Sandy laughed. “I must be losing my touch,” she said. “That got Yolanda.”
Her smile widened. “Brushes will be provided,” she added. “But you’re not allowed to use magic.”
I shrugged. I couldn't use magic anyway.
Chapter Seventeen
Sandy was as good as her word.
I had barely finished my breakfast, the following morning, when she dragged me into the washroom and taught me how to clean. The maids had taught me some tricks - Mum had been fond of making us help them whenever she wanted to punish us - but Sandy insisted on watching me like a hawk, telling me what to do every time I moved to a new section of the washroom. I think she wanted to make sure I didn't use magic. She, at least, didn't believe the rumours about me.
“Good enough,” Sandy said, when I had finished. “You will be doing it for three more weeks, of course.”
I sighed. My clothes were damp and my back was aching. I wanted a shower and a change, sooner rather than later. It had been a hard job, even if I had washed and cleaned before. No wonder Sandy considered it an effective punishment. Isabella and her cronies had probably never been forced to clean up after themselves until they came to school. The only amusement had come when Isabella had accidentally made a mess after I’d cleaned one of the basins, only to be given five hundred lines to be handed in by the end of the day. She’d probably blame me for her aching wrist, afterwards, but I found it hard to care. It wasn't my fault.
And I have some supplies now, I thought, darkly. I can take revenge.
Sandy led me back into the dorm and clapped her hands. “If I could have your attention, please,” she said. “There’s a small announcement I have to make.”
She waited until the entire dorm was paying attention, then continued. “The netball team captains have decided to hold the first set of tryouts over the next few days. If you want to play, go to the sports office and sign up there. They’ll give everyone a shot at playing before determining the teams for the rest of the year. But you’ll have to be very good to get a slot on a team.”
“That’s not fair,” Isabella said. “First years ...”
“The world isn’t fair,” Sandy snapped at her. “And if you don’t finish those lines, you won’t be allowed to join the tryouts.”
I smiled to myself. Mum had made it clear that very few firsties were ever invited to join a team, unless they had real talent or the team captain was desperate. We could - and most of us would - play to learn the game, but the odds were strongly against any of us joining a team and winning the cup. It didn't bother me that much. The spells one needed to play netball at Jude’s were well beyond me.
But it might keep Isabella out of my way, I thought, as I joined Rose and listened to a handful of other minor announcements. A couple of nights on the field would tire her out.
Isabella and her cronies started to chat happily about the upcoming games, but I ignored them as best as I could. Instead, I showered and changed into weekend clothes, then joined Rose by the door. The others were so interested in their discussion that they didn't even notice us leaving. We hurried up to the library, passing a couple of fourth-year students having a loud argument. I hoped it wasn't anything that would spill down to the younger years.
“She could have told us about netball before breakfast,” Rose said. “Why did she make us wait?”
“She’s trying to remind us who’s in charge,” I answered. I didn't think anyone actually doubted it, but Sandy clearly felt a little insecure. “And besides, she has to make sure we get all the announcements.”
I’d put our names down for a workroom yesterday, but I wasn't particularly surprised to discover that a trio of seventh-years had taken it. The librarian had warned me, after all, that they got priority. I chatted briefly with her, then found a number of books we could work through as we waited. Rose was learning quickly, but she was trying to cram four years of study into a single term.
“I don’t understand how this works,” she moaned, holding out a sheet of paper. “How does it work?”
“The iron focuses the spell on its target,” I explained. “And the equations ensure the spell stays in place longer.”
“So it doesn’t weaken,” Rose guessed. “Right?”
“Right,” I confirmed. “As long as the runes are carved precisely, the spell should stay in place indefinitely.”
It was nearly an hour before one of the workrooms was empty. We watched a small group of fifth-years heading out of the library, looking rather stunned by the work they had to do now that they were upperclassmen, then hurried to take the room for ourselves. The librarian had assured me we couldn't be kicked out once we were actually in possession, but I wasn't sure I believed it. Upperclassmen did have first call on the school’s resources, after all. They were the ones trying to earn advanced degrees.
I closed the door, wishing I could lock it. But none of the spells I knew could have kept the door shut if an upperclassman wanted in, even if I’d been able to cast them. I pushed the thought aside and sat down on the floor, motioning for Rose to sit opposite me. She looked attentive, even though she knew there were limits to what I could teach her. There was certainly no way I could demonstrate the spells for her.
“Right,” I said. I couldn't help feeling nervous. This could easily g
o very wrong. “Did you read the spells I wrote out for you?”
“Yeah,” Rose said. She produced a sheaf of papers. “I haven’t dared test them.”
“I know,” I said. My throat was suddenly very dry. “You’re going to test them on me.”
Rose’s mouth dropped open. “Are you mad?”
“I’m used to it,” I said, sourly. If I had someone - someone else - I could trust, it would be a great deal easier. “You do know how to cancel spells now, right?”
“I think so,” Rose said, nervously. She paled. I wouldn't have thought it was possible for her to pale any further. “But what if I get it wrong? What if” - she glanced down at the sheaf of papers - “what if I turn you into something forever? I mean ... what if ...?”