The Zero Blessing

by Christopher Nuttall

  That was a thought, I silently admitted. And it was one I should have had for myself. Rose had had plenty of experience harvesting and preparing crops, even if she hadn't brewed a genuine potion until she’d entered Jude’s, but plenty of the other students had managed to cut themselves over the first two weeks. Magistra Loanda had been very sarcastic about it, even as she healed the wounds and told the victims to get back to work. It wouldn't be that hard to charm practice knives. There would certainly be no need to worry about contaminating ingredients.

  “Something to try,” I mused. I met his eyes. “If we make them ... do you want to sell them?”

  Akin flushed. It looked odd on his pale skin. “Isabella would be great at selling them.”

  “Isabella hates me,” I said, dryly. “And hardly anyone listens to me.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Akin promised. “She doesn't listen to me either.”

  I gave him an odd look, then resumed work on the second knife. Akin copied me silently - I wondered if Magister Tallyman would accept his first piece of work, or insist that he charm yet another blade. The golden sickle was harder to charm - gold-cut herbs can be very useful in potions, but gold is softer than it looks. I’d heard of a few druids who made do with iron sickles - or gold-covered sickles - yet their potions were always inferior. I had a feeling Magister Tallyman was not going to be pleased when he saw my work. The knives might be fine, but the sickle was not.

  “That’s mine done,” Akin said. I bit down a sharp response. He had done a better job than I with the sickle. “Should we call him?”

  I glanced at the clock, then nodded. We’d used most of our hour.

  Magister Tallyman looked pleased when he inspected my knives, but he frowned when he saw the sickle. “You’ll have to beat the runes out and start again,” he said. “The sickle isn't going to be much good for anything, unless you melt it down to sell.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said.

  “Overall, you’ve done reasonably well,” Magister Tallyman added, raising his voice slightly. “Perhaps you would try to try something more complex?”

  I nodded, although I had no idea when I was meant to be repairing the sickle. I’d have to scratch out the runes sooner rather than later anyway, unless I wanted them to start gathering magic. Magister Tallyman took the nine usable blades - the tenth was dumped in the recycling bin - and returned them to the box, then led us over to yet another workbench. This one was empty, save for a small collection of tools and a couple of textbooks.

  “Pick something from this book and make it,” he ordered. He pointed towards the giant storage cupboards. “You should be able to find everything you need in there.”

  I felt a thrill of anticipation as I went to check the stores. Here was a true challenge, something that would test me to the limits. And give me a chance to show off, just a little, to a teacher I respected. Dad had taught me to make sure I had everything before I began anyway, whatever the storekeeper said, so I opened the doors and checked the shelves. If anything, it was bursting with supplies. Large pieces of wrought iron, tiny spools of gold, silver and bronze thread, jars of tiny gemstones ... it was like a dream. No one, not even my father, had so many supplies purely for his own use.

  But Jude’s probably wants to keep Magister Tallyman, I thought, as my eyes swept the shelves. They’d do whatever it took to make him happy.

  I found myself smiling as I returned to the workbench and started flicking through my textbook. It listed a vast collection of Devices of Power, ranging from a far more precise magic-sensor to a focusing device and a magic-absorber. The focusing device - a wand, as the commoners call them - was useless for me. I had nothing to focus. But the absorber might be interesting ...

  ... And the more advanced Devices actually reflected the magic back to their caster.

  I made a mental list of everything I needed, then started to gather my supplies. Beside me, Akin had opened his book to show a focusing device. It was proof, I suppose, that he didn't lack magic himself. I sighed, knowing my work would take longer, then got started. It didn't matter. The chance to impress Magister Tallyman was worth missing lunch, if not dinner.

  “I’ll be in my office,” Magister Tallyman said. “Call me when you’re finished.”

  I was barely aware of him walking away as I bent over the workbench, carefully organising the tools and supplies before I went to work. Having so many tools was a luxury - I wasn't going to be fighting with my father’s apprentices over who got to use what. I smiled down at the textbook, then started to work. It was complex, but I loved it. I lost track of everything, apart from the work in front of me. And slowly, the Device of Power started to take shape.

  It didn't look like much, I had to admit. Two iron wands, tied together with gold and silver thread; five gemstones, three designed to focus the magic into the other two; a tiny handhold, barely large enough for my hand. I would have to make it larger, I thought, when I put the final piece into place. Mum had told me that I would have a growth spurt over the next couple of years and I would no longer be able to use the Device. It simply couldn’t be scaled up for an adult. I looked closer, inspecting every last component. Devices of Power had been known to fail because a single element was out of place.

  And we could mass-produce most of them, if they didn't keep breaking down, I thought, sardonically. I’d said as much to Dad, years ago. He’d told me that it never worked, no matter how much time and effort was invested into the program. The younger families kept trying, but they never recouped their investment. There’s still a place for forgers.

  My stomach growled. I looked up ... and blinked. Akin was staring at me. He flushed bright red a second later and looked away, clearly embarrassed. The wand he’d produced was sitting on the workbench, ready for use. I looked up at the clock and started. It was four in the afternoon. Where had the time gone?

  “You’re good at this,” Akin said. “Isabella said ...”

  That I was a zero, I thought, as his voice trailed off. But there isn't any real magic involved in forging, and you know it.

  I pushed the thought out of my head. “I’ll fetch Magister Tallyman,” I said, instead. “You stay here.”

  Akin nodded, shortly. I turned and headed to Magister Tallyman’s office, a tiny little room at the side of the workroom. Akin probably wouldn't tamper with my work, if only because Magister Tallyman might believe me instead of him. He wouldn't want to be kicked out any more than I did. I knocked at the open door, then peered inside. Magister Tallyman was sitting at a small wooden desk, playing with a Device. It looked like a tiny metal fan.

  “Caitlyn,” he said. “What do you make of this?”

  I peered at the Device. “A fan,” I said. “What is it?”

  “Precisely,” Magister Tallyman said. He held the Device up to me. I took it gingerly, stroking the metal with my fingers. “It is a fan. And it should work.”

  I studied it for a long moment. “Perhaps it needs a separate power source.”

  “Not according to the ancient texts,” Magister Tallyman said. He took the Device back and rested it on the table. “I’ve done everything right, but it simply won’t work for more than a few seconds. And then chunks of it just crumble.”

  I followed him out of the office. Something was nagging at my mind, but what?

  Magister Tallyman took a moment to study Akin’s work. “An impressive focus,” he said, thoughtfully. “You’ve made focuses before?”

  “I have, sir,” Akin said. He seemed to have gotten over his early embarrassment. “This one is modified to allow a chain of incants to be triggered, one by one.”

  “You do have to program the incants first,” Magister Tallyman mused. He pointed to a piece of wood. “Very well. Test it.”

  Akin glanced at me, then pointed the wand at the wood and spoke a single word. The wand spat a tiny fireball which punched through the wood and struck the stone walls. I half-expected Magister Tallyman to throw Akin out on the spot, but instead he
just laughed. It dawned on me that he’d expected something like it.

  “Not too bad,” Magister Tallyman said. “Although I would be careful which spells you use in future. Focusing certain spells can be quite dangerous.”

  I nodded. Fireballs were easy - at least if you had the magic. Dad said they were boring, but practical. But focusing their heat into a smaller fireball ...

  “Caitlyn,” Magister Tallyman said. “Let’s see what you made.”

  I held up the Device. He studied it for a long moment, turning it over and over in his colossal hands. I thought he’d break it, but his touch was surprisingly gentle. And then he passed it back to me.

  His voice was surprisingly warm. “Are you ready?” I held up the Device, quickly. “Let’s see ...”

  He cast a spell. The Device jerked in my hands - and the gemstones started to glow - but nothing touched me. Magister Tallyman smiled, then cast another two spells in quick succession. The glow grew brighter, but nothing else happened. He looked puzzled, then cast a fourth spell. This time, there was a surge of heat that made me drop the Device on the floor. There was a brilliant flash of light as the gemstones shattered, releasing the stored magic.

  “Get back,” Magister Tallyman snapped.

  I jumped back. Nothing happened, save for an eerie green glow that vanished a second later.

  “Very good,” Magister Tallyman said. “Very good.”

  He gave me a smile. “I shall expect great things from you, I think,” he said. “And now--” he glanced at the clock “--I think you two had better go back to your dorms. I’ll see you both in class.”

  “Yes, sir,” Akin said. “And thank you.”

  I couldn't stop myself smiling broadly. “Thank you, sir,” I said. “For everything.”

  And I was still grinning when I reached the dorm.

  Chapter Twenty

  Unfortunately, my happiness didn't last long.

  The problem with getting into a rivalry with a magician, particularly when you don't have any magic of your own, is that it’s hard to find newer and better ways to strike back. Isabella could - and did - cast spells on me at every opportunity, while I had to work hard to find tricks I could play on her. I don't know if she ever figured out how I made the itching charm work, but it didn't have any effect the second time I tried it. She - or Akin, perhaps - had deduced the truth and modified her protective wards.

  And she was still treating Rose like dirt.

  I didn't understand it. Rose had had almost no proper training at all, before she'd been sent to Jude’s. Now, four weeks into the term, she was already casting spells that had taken Alana months to master. She still had a long way to go, but it was clear she had a remarkable talent and a great deal of natural power. And yet, Isabella was still looking down on her. Part of me was almost relieved. Isabella could have taught Rose a great deal, if she’d looked past Rose’s origins to see her potential. She could have stolen Rose from me with ease.

  “This simply doesn't make sense,” Rose muttered, as we sat together in the library after lunch. It was the safest place. Several gangs of first and second-year students were playing a running game through the corridor and tossing spells in all directions. “Why does it matter if I stir clockwise, rather than anticlockwise?”

  “Because you’re shaping and channelling the magic,” I told her. Rose had learned to cook, which gave her an advantage, but cooking and potion-brewing didn't have that much in common. A stew didn't care if you stirred clockwise or anticlockwise, yet it could make the difference between success and failure in brewing. “Don’t try to rewrite the instruction book on short notice.”

  Rose scowled. “It still doesn't make sense.”

  “It does,” I said. “You just have to track the progress of the magic through the brew.”

  I looked down at the open textbook, feeling a sudden wave of despondency. Rose and I had been lucky so far, but it wouldn't last. The more advanced potions, like the one Magistra Loanda had told us we were going to be brewing this afternoon, needed more than a simple stir. I had to guide the magic and I wasn't sure I could do that, not with a wooden spoon. It wouldn't be hard to make a Device to handle the magic, but that would probably cause the potion to explode. I just didn't understand it.

  Maybe I can rewrite enough of the recipe to make it easier, I thought, sourly. I’d told Rose not to try, but I was desperate. How do I avoid needing a second stir ...?

  I flicked through the textbook, trying to recall everything my mother had told me. It wasn't impossible to switch out one set of potions ingredients for another, but each substitution would have side effects that would also have to be countered. The genius who’d produced a substitute for unicorn horn - one of the rarest and most expensive ingredients in the world - had crafted a cheaper potion that was also astonishingly complex. And the reason it was so complex was because a dozen different ingredients reacted badly with one another and had to be managed carefully.

  Mum could have made her own, I thought. I worked my way through the list of approved substitutes, trying to parse out the consequences of using them. But I couldn't have produced one without help ...

  “Twenty minutes,” Rose said. She glanced at the door. “Do you think the corridors are safe now?”

  I shrugged. The upperclassmen would probably have broken the game up by now. “We can go in ten minutes,” I said. It would take us that long to walk to potions class. “Just give me a few more minutes.”

  The textbook wasn't very helpful. Sure, there were substitute ingredients, but none of them were simple enough to cut the need for magic down to a single stir. Rose was going to have to stir my caldron at least twice during the lesson, each one running the risk of Magistra Loanda noticing and having kittens. One stir might not bother her that much, but if she never saw me stirring the caldron ...

  I sighed as I started to flip through the pages. There was no way to know what Magistra Haydon had told the other teachers - my last session with her had been strikingly unproductive - but I didn't dare show weakness in front of my fellow students. Isabella was just looking for proof that I didn't have magic. Coming to think of it, I didn't really want Magistra Loanda to be sure either. She might well use it against my mother at a later date.

  If I mix that with that, I mused, perhaps ...

  It struck me like a thunderbolt. If I used something intensely magical - dragon scales, perhaps - I shouldn't need Rose to provide the magic. There would be a surge of magic ... in fact, if I combined powdered dragon scales with a couple of other ingredients, I might be able to avoid the need to stir the caldron. I hastily grabbed for a piece of paper and started to scribble out the formula, trying to see why no one else had ever tried it. If it was possible to infuse magic without using personal magic, everyone would be using it. Mum would have shown me how to do it years ago.

  But no matter how I worked the formula, I couldn't see any flaws.

  It looked perfect. A surge of magic, followed by another ... the potion shouldn't need any more. There didn't look to be any dangerous reactions either, as far as I could tell. I’d probably need to skim the scales out of the potion, but that wouldn't be difficult. Half the potions we brewed were skimmed afterwards. It definitely looked perfect.

  And that worried me. I knew more than most of my peers about potions, but I was no Master Brewer. My mother and Magistra Loanda had both magic and years of experience. I knew brewers who were in their second century, men and women who had been brewing from the day they came into their magic. I couldn't be the first person to think of this, could I? There had to be a flaw I was missing, some reason why an infusion of magic was impossible. It was tempting to believe that the brewers hadn't wanted to tell everything, but still ...

  There are too many potions that can only be made by skilled brewers, I thought. It would be cheaper if everyone could make them.

  I looked down at my paper for a long moment. It would be better to check with Mum before I did anything. I could write to
her and ask. Perhaps she would tell me I was a genius - or perhaps she would point out the incredibly obvious flaw I’d missed. I folded up the paper and put it in my pocket as the ten-minute bell rang. We’d have to hurry or we'd be late for class.

  “I don’t think Magistra Loanda is going to like my homework,” Rose confessed, as we sprinted through the door. “I could only find five legitimate uses for blood-based potions.”

  “There aren't any more,” I said. Blood-based potions were borderline dark, as far as Magus Court was concerned. “I don’t think they changed the law in the last couple of months.”

  We were running by the time we reached the potions classroom and popped inside, but we needn’t have hurried. Magistra Loanda was berating Alana at great volume, demanding to know just how she could have messed up her homework. We slipped past her and took our seats, then settled back to enjoy the show. Alana couldn't go red in the face, but it was easy to tell she was humiliated. She’d never paid that much attention to potions and it was showing.