He lowered his voice. “The bad news is that the Castellan wants to see you both,” he added, darkly. “I have orders to inform him when you are ready to face him.”
I swallowed. I really shouldn't have been surprised.
The healer helped me to stand, then insisted that I walk around the room several times before calling a nurse to assist me in the bathroom. It was embarrassing, but I had no choice. My entire body was covered with patchwork skin, its mere presence mocking me. What had I done to myself?
My blood ran cold. What have I done to Rose?
Someone - probably Sandy - had sent along a complete set of clothes. I dressed slowly, feeling dread deep in my chest. The Castellan was rarely involved in disciplinary matters, I’d been told. Normally, the upperclassman supervised the lowerclassmen. Only the worst offences, outside class, were handled by the staff. If he wanted to see us ... I doubted it boded well.
Rose was waiting in the room when I came out, standing next to a seventh year girl with a grim face. Rose’s hair was gone, save for a red fuzz covering her scalp. Her skin was pale, almost as pale as Isabella’s. I looked closely and saw traces of the same patchwork grafting as there was on mine. Her grafts seemed to have settled better - or at least quicker. I suspected her magic must have helped the process along, but even so ... she looked stunned, as if she couldn't quite process what had happened to her.
“I’m sorry,” I said, quietly.
“Be quiet,” the girl said. “I’m here to escort you to the Castellan.”
I exchanged glances with Rose, then followed the older girl through the door and into the corridor. Bella was standing there, twisting her hands nervously. She opened her mouth to say something, but the older girl glared her into silence before she could say a word. I tried to shoot her a reassuring look, even as I glanced around for my parents ... I would even have welcomed Alana. There was no sign of any of them.
It was the middle of the day, according to my watch, but there were still students moving through the corridors. I was grimly aware of them staring at us, their eyes following our procession towards the Castellan’s office. If we’d been out for three days ... I wondered, suddenly, just what rumour said about us. By now, the story might have turned into something so absurd that the truth was completely buried.
We stopped outside a large wooden door, which opened to reveal an office. A grim-faced woman sat at a wooden desk, eying us both with a stare that reminded me of Great Aunt Stregheria. There was a wooden bench pushed against the far wall and a Grandfather Clock in the corner, but otherwise the remainder of the office was bare. We were marched across to a second door, which opened as we approached. A gust of warm air struck me as we were motioned into the room.
The Castellan was seated behind his desk, reading something that looked like a medical report. He looked up at us as the door closed, then pointed to a spot in front of his desk. I walked over, clasping my hands behind my back to keep them from shaking. The Castellan returned his gaze to his report. I knew, from my father, that he was making us wait so we knew we were in trouble, but it struck me as absurd. We knew we were in trouble.
I forced myself to wait. Rose, beside me, fidgeted nervously. It felt like hours - or perhaps days - before the Castellan closed the report and looked up at us. There was no warmth at all in his cold eyes. He was angry, very angry. And it was hard to blame him.
“Magistra Loanda has examined the remains of Lab Thirteen,” he said, without bothering to welcome us. “She informs me that you were experimenting with dragon scales. Is that correct?”
I nodded, wordlessly. There was no point in trying to deny it. A careful analysis of the remnants of the potion would turn up traces of dragon scales. Magistra Loanda wouldn't have had any trouble finding all the proof she needed. Even if she hadn't, her word would be enough. I had no doubt of it.
“Dragon scales,” the Castellan repeated. His voice was still cold. “Dragon scales, which every fool knows are highly volatile. Dragon scales, which have to be treated with great care. Dragon scales, which are used in potions that explode if you look at them the wrong way.”
His eyes bored into mine. “Tell me,” he said. “What were you thinking?”
I tried to formulate a response that wouldn't get us in worse trouble, but nothing came to mind. I’d seen the formula work - I had! And yet ... I didn't have any proof. Not until I could brew the formula again ...
... But why had it exploded?
“You ignored every safety rule in the book,” the Castellan continued. His gaze switched to Rose. “And it was only sheer dumb luck that you survived. You came very close to death.”
He looked back at me. “What were you thinking?”
“It was my fault, sir,” I said. “I thought I could ...”
The Castellan cut me off. “Your father is a very well-respected magician, your mother a Master Brewer,” he said. “Surely you knew the dangers?”
I swallowed, but said nothing. What could I say?
“You have wantonly defied safety rules intended to keep you safe,” the Castellan said. “You are not trained magicians, pushing the limits to see what you can get away with. You are students who haven’t even passed the first set of exams. What are you going to do next? If you’d tried this in a classroom, you could have killed the entire class!”
My legs wobbled. He was right. I didn't know precisely what had gone wrong, but something clearly had. And if I’d tried that in a classroom ...
The Castellan cleared his throat. “I have decided that you both merit significant punishment,” he said, his voice hardening. He met my eyes. “Caitlyn of House Aguirre, you will be suspended from Jude’s for a period of one month. When you return, you will have to work hard to catch up with the rest of your class. Should you fail your exams, at the end of the year, you will not be permitted to retake them.”
I felt cold. A month’s suspension wasn't bad, but failing the exams ... if I didn't get a degree of some kind I might as well slip into the countryside and live on a farm. There would be no hope of finding a real job. And if my parents were truly mad at me, they might not agree to front me the money for a shop ...
... And yet, compared to what I’d feared, it was a surprisingly mild punishment.
The Castellan’s eyes moved to Rose. “Rose of Erehwon, you will be unceremoniously expelled from this school and returned to your village. Your fees will not be returned. You will not have the opportunity to transfer your scholarship to other schools. I imagine you will have to spend the rest of your life paying off the debt.”
Rose gasped. I stared. Rose was being expelled?
“You can't do that,” I stammered. My voice sounded weak, even to myself. “You ...”
“Both of you should be expelled,” the Castellan said, flatly. “If I were you, young lady, I would count myself lucky that I had not been expelled.”
You’re not me, I thought. I felt a bitter flash of pure hatred. You ...
I swallowed my words. Despite everything, I wasn’t stupid enough to say it out loud. He hadn't just expelled Rose, he’d destroyed her life. There was no way she could pay off her debt. Her creditors would eventually come for her and her entire family. She’d be very lucky indeed if she only had to go into service with one of the Great Houses. Her talent would be wasted ...
“It was my fault, sir,” I pleaded. “Expel me instead.”
“But she went along with you,” the Castellan pointed out. “You are both being punished.”
He pointed a finger at the door. “Wait outside,” he ordered. “Your father will arrive soon to take you home.”
Rose sounded stunned. “What about me?”
“The formal ceremony will be held tonight,” the Castellan said. “After that, you will be sent home. Go.”
I opened my mouth. “Sir, I ...”
“Out,” the Castellan ordered. “I will speak to you again after your suspension is over.”
I felt magic pushing at me, shoving me tow
ards the door. There was no point in trying to resist. And yet, I tried to struggle anyway. I wanted to shout and scream at him, but ... but it was futile. Despair washed over me. I’d damaged my future in the explosion ...
... And I had utterly destroyed Rose’s only hope of a better life.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Sit there,” the secretary ordered. Her nose twisted, as though she had smelled something disgusting. “Be silent.”
We sat on the hard wooden bench, staring down at the stone floor. I didn't want to look at Rose. I didn't want to see the accusation in her eyes when she looked at me. It had been my idea to experiment with the formula, it had been my decision to take the risk ... I wanted to cry, to scream and shout until my cheeks were wet with tears. I’d ruined her life as surely as my lack of magic had ruined mine. It was all my fault.
And they’re not going to expel me because of my family, I thought, savagely. And yet, they’re going to expel Rose.
A dozen thoughts ran through my head, each one crazier than the last. I could get Dad to take Rose into service ... she could learn from my parents, even as she worked for them. Or I could try to convince my parents to pay her debt before it was too late ... it would be pocket change for my father. I wouldn't even complain if he took it out of my inheritance. Or I could beg for my inheritance ahead of time and try to open a shop, even though I was still legally a child. Or ... we could run away, couldn't we? No one would care enough to hunt down Rose ...
... But my family would look for me.
And Rose’s family would have to pay her debts, I reminded myself. Their creditors wouldn't stop demanding the money, even if Rose went missing ...
I looked up at her. She was trying not to cry, but her cheeks were stained with tears. I felt my heart break for her, even as I cursed myself. I should have pushed her away. I should have told her to join Isabella or Alana ... I should have let her hex me a hundred times, just so she could join the other girls. Better that than being expelled ...
... But it was too late.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’ll get you out of this, somehow.”
“Be silent,” the secretary ordered.
I ignored her. “Rose, I’ll think of something ...”
The secretary muttered a spell. I froze. Rose froze too, utterly unable to move. Even the tears running down her bare cheeks were frozen. We could only look at each other, waiting helplessly for nemesis to arrive. My father was not going to be pleased. Maybe if I begged him to help Rose ... would he listen?
I could hear the Grandfather Clock ticking, the sound echoing in the silent air. Seconds became minutes, steadily adding up ... where was my father? If he’d been at home, he could be here by now. But if he’d been at Magus Court ... it would take him considerably longer to disengage and race to the school. I wanted to think he was at home, waiting for news. Or perhaps pacing outside the school ...
The spell broke. I sagged forward, crashing into Rose. She didn't move. Her limbs were still frozen. The secretary let out a gasp of shock, then cast the spell again. I felt a surge of pure rage as my limbs locked once again, but nothing happened. She could just keep casting and recasting the spell until my father arrived.
I tensed, inwardly, as the door opened. The secretary cleared her throat.
“Lord Aguirre,” she said. “Your daughter is here.”
“Open a private room for us,” my father ordered. He sounded angry. I wished I could turn, just to see his face. “Have a maid bring two mugs of tea - and a large glass of juice. And then wait.”
The secretary jumped up and hurried to obey. I felt a flicker of vindictive glee, mixed with dull resentment. Prune-faced toady though she was, she was still more important than I would ever be. I hoped my father kept her hopping for the next hour or two, steadily piling on more and more demands until she broke under the strain. She wouldn't want to bother her superior with anything trivial, yet eventually she would have to say no.
I felt myself lifted up by an unseen force and carried backwards, towards the door. My father was standing there, looking grim as he floated me down the corridor and into a smaller chamber. He lowered me to the floor and left me there, still frozen, as he cast a number of privacy spells, then jabbed a finger at me. The spell broke, sending me stumbling forward helplessly. He caught me before I could fall and hit the ground.
“Dad,” I managed.
“Sit down,” my father ordered.
He helped me to the nearest chair, then let go of me. I sagged into the comfortable seat as the maid entered, carrying a tea tray. Judging by her expression, the secretary must have told her to hurry. I knew the signs from home. Someone had added a plate of biscuits and hot chocolate buns, clearly trying to make my father feel welcome. My stomach rumbled, but I ignored it. I doubted I’d be eating chocolate any time soon. I’d be lucky if I wasn't disowned on the spot.
My father waited until the maid had left, then he sat down facing me. “Explain,” he ordered, firmly. “Now.”
I swallowed, trying to formulate an answer. My father had never been fooled when any of us had tried to lie to him. And yet ... part of me didn't want to tell him. I told that part of me to shut up, loudly. The only hope of saving Rose from being expelled - or at least from being sold into slavery - lay with my father.
“I was carrying out an experiment,” I said, carefully. “I ...”
“They pulled a dozen fragments of dragon scales out of your skin,” my father said. His voice was very calm, which worried me. That meant he had his temper under tight control. I would have preferred shouting. “What sort of experiment.”
I looked back at him, trying to find the words. “I couldn't brew potions in class,” I said, finally. “It didn't matter how carefully I followed the instructions. I just couldn't infuse magic into the brew. Rose had to stir the potions for me.”
“I see,” my father said. “And what does this have to do with dragon scales?”
“I worked out a formula for drawing magic out of dragon scales,” I said, carefully. I reached for my pocket, then stopped as I realised it was empty. Of course ... my old outfit had probably been destroyed. “I thought if I brewed the scales in water, with a handful of runes and other ingredients ...”
“You would produce a burst of magic,” my father finished. He looked resigned. “It’s been tried.”
My blood ran cold. “I didn't find any reference to it in the textbooks ...”
“That’s because anyone with a lick of sense would realise that the blast would be uncontrollable,” my father finished. “It has been tried, time and time again. Every serious potioneer discovers it - rediscovers it - when they start trying to invent their own potions, but none of them have been able to get it to work. There’s always an explosion.”
His voice darkened. “It looks good, I know,” he said. “But it never works.”
I met his eyes. “Father,” I said. “I got it to work.”
My father’s eyes went wide. “Cat ... this isn’t the time for jokes.”
“I got it to work,” I said. He could always tell when we were lying. Couldn’t he tell when we were telling the truth? “Would you like me to swear an oath?”
He looked at me for a long moment. Oaths were sacred. No one with more than a gram or two of magic would take them lightly, although I really had no idea what would happen if I broke an oath. I didn't have any magic to bind my words. It wasn't something I would joke about, not with my father. Warlocks - oathbreakers - often wound up wishing they were dead.
“Explain,” he ordered, finally.
I ran through the whole story, feeling my head start to pound as Dad questioned each and every detail. He was a skilled interrogator, as well as everything else. I told him about the formula, how I’d worked out the equations to guide the magic ... I told him about Alana and how she’d betrayed me. And then I told him how, out of desperation, I’d put the formula together and splashed it into the potion. And it had worked.
“Magistra Loanda said it was the best in the class,” I finished. “But I didn't use my own magic to make it.”
My father looked doubtful. “Every potioneer who has tried something like that has always had the brew explode,” he said. “What happened next?”
“I wanted to show off,” I admitted. “I made a potion with Rose ... one that should have worked. But when I inserted the formula, it ...”
I shivered. The white light had been terrifying. And then ... my memories were still jumbled.
“It exploded,” I said, quietly.
“That’s what should have happened, the first time you made it,” my father said.
“That’s not what the equations say,” I countered. “They say it should work. And it did.”
The Zero Blessing Page 23