The Zero Blessing

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The Zero Blessing Page 24

by Christopher Nuttall


  “For you,” my father said.

  He looked me in the eye. “Why didn't you tell Magistra Loanda?”

  “I didn't know how she’d react,” I admitted. “And I didn't want her to hurt Mum.”

  “They’re not exactly enemies,” my father told me. “More like friendly rivals.”

  He shrugged. “You really should have brought this to me. Or your mother.”

  I nodded. “I know.”

  “And you’ve been suspended,” he added. “You’ll have plenty of time to discuss it with us.”

  I swallowed, hard. “Dad, it was my idea. Rose shouldn't be expelled because of me.”

  He looked back at me, evenly. “That’s not my decision.”

  “It could be,” I said. “Dad, please ...”

  His eyes darkened, just for a second. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are?”

  I flinched as he glared at me. “You could have been killed, Kitten,” he said. “Your mother and I could have been burying you, right as we speak! And you could have been expelled too ...”

  His voice hardened. “If someone more important than a little commoner girl had been injured, Caitlyn,” he added, “it would have been impossible not to expel you.”

  “It isn't right,” I said. “Rose didn't do anything wrong.”

  I met his eyes, forcing myself to hold firm. “Please, Dad,” I said. “I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll take whatever punishment you consider appropriate without a word of complaint. But please. Rose shouldn't be punished because of my mistakes.”

  My Dad looked back at me for a long moment. “I have spent the last thirty years building up a patronage network,” he said. “Hundreds of magicians, from great to small, owe me favours I can call on at need. And you’re asking me to use some of those favours to save your friend from her mistakes?”

  “From my mistakes,” I objected.

  “She shouldn't have let you experiment,” my father said, coolly.

  “It was my fault,” I said. “I ... I took her under my wing. She has potential. I’ll ... I’ll do the garden and sweep the halls and ...”

  Dad studied me for a long moment. “Rest assured, we will be discussing your punishment when you return home,” he said. He picked up his tea and drank it slowly, giving me time to sweat. “And I will also discuss her punishment with the Castellan.”

  He rose. “There may be a price,” he said. “And you will have to pay.”

  I nodded. “Anything.”

  “Don’t say that, even in jest,” Dad said, sharply. He headed towards the door. “Wait here.”

  He left, closing the door behind him. I found my hands were shaking. When had I found the nerve to stand up to my father like that? He could have disowned me ... he probably would have disowned me, if someone important had gotten hurt. I forced my hands to still, then turned my attention to the chocolate buns. My stomach was growling loudly now, demanding that I eat. But the buns still tasted like ashes in my mouth. I tried to tell myself that it was going to be fine, but I didn't believe it. Dad didn't care that much about Rose, did he? She was nothing to him.

  It was nearly an hour before the door opened again, revealing my father - and Rose. Rose looked torn between terror and relief, her eyes glancing from side to side as though she was waiting for the next blow to fall. Dad raised an eyebrow when he saw the empty plate, then called for food. It arrived five minutes later, fresh from the oven. Of course ... it was Friday, when dinner was a less formal affair. I’d lost track of the days while I’d been unconscious.

  “I discussed the matter with the Castellan,” my father said, once Rose was tucking into a large chocolate bun. “It was not a very pleasant discussion.”

  He pointed a finger at me. “You now owe the Castellan a very large favour,” he warned, darkly. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Dad,” I said. I took another bun. This time, it tasted heavenly. “What did he say?”

  “I ... convinced ... him not to expel Rose or suspend you,” Dad said, sipping his tea. “That’s the good news. Like I said, it was not a very pleasant discussion. I had to threaten to call in several favours the Triad owes me before he agreed to unbend. But neither of you are expelled or suspended.”

  He paused. “I may have to call in additional favours with the other teachers,” he added. “I doubt Magistra Loanda wants you back.”

  I looked at him. “Wouldn't she be fascinated?”

  “Perhaps she’d think you merely had a stroke of dumb luck,” my father countered. “It wouldn't be the first time something odd happened, something that couldn't be replicated under controlled conditions. There’s a lot we don’t know about magic, Kitten. We have a long way to go before we match the Ancients.”

  And we still don’t know what destroyed their empire, I thought, numbly. War ... or Objects of Power?

  I looked at Rose, then back at my father. “And the bad news?”

  “You will both be on punishment rotas for the next two weeks,” Dad said. “He flatly refused to let you get away with it, although the injuries you suffered were a particularly unpleasant form of punishment. You’ll be cleaning floors, washing laundry ... every little chore that would normally be left to the maids. It will not be fun.”

  “Better than being expelled,” I said.

  Dad shrugged. “You’ll be grounded for most of the holidays,” he added. “What you did was incredibly dangerous. And Rose--” he looked at her “--will be coming home with us for the summer. There’s work for her too.”

  I stared. “Dad ...”

  “I’ll clear it with her family,” Dad said. He gave me a sharp look, quelling the next set of objections. It wasn't uncommon for an aristocratic child to join another household for a few weeks, but Rose was a commoner. “You do understand just how lucky you were, don’t you?”

  “Yes, Dad,” I said.

  “Your mother will be writing to you soon,” Dad added. “I expect she will want to ... discuss ... the matter with you.”

  I winced. Mum would be furious. I was surprised she hadn't accompanied Dad. But then, he hadn't expected to have to help Rose. They’d probably assumed I’d be marched home for a private scolding and a fortnight of chores.

  “Don’t cause any further trouble,” Dad said. “Stick to jinxing your fellows and booing the netball teams when they lose. Slip a hex under someone’s pillow or something along the same lines. Don’t run the risk of getting expelled again.”

  I smiled, wanly. “I told Rose the truth ...”

  My father gave me a sharp look. “And yet, you managed to work some magic.”

  I looked back at him, wishing I knew what he was thinking. Did he think I’d unlocked some secret talent? Or did he think I’d somehow brought my magic out? Or ...

  The secretary froze me, I thought, suddenly. But her spell didn't last.

  I corrected myself a moment later. Her spell didn't last on me!

  My father sighed. “Do you remember what I said to Alana, during your tenth birthday party?”

  I remembered. Alana had been a right brat. She’d thrown a tantrum in front of the guests - with magic - after discovering that my parents hadn't bought her the fancy wand she wanted. Dad had eventually told her to behave or the party would be unceremoniously cancelled.

  “You told her to remember that magic brought responsibility,” I recalled. The lecture had frightened me and I hadn't been the one in trouble. “And that she had to learn to do things for herself.”

  “Yes,” my father said. “And you have to learn to do things for yourself too.”

  I stared down at the floor, feeling unpleasantly mutinous. I couldn't cast spells. I couldn't brew potions. And yet, I had managed to accomplish some things. If Dad was right ... I had made the formula work, when countless more experienced magicians hadn't been able to produce more than an explosion. What did that say about me?

  “Finish your tea, then go back to your dorm,” Dad said. “And I suggest - very strongly - that you write to y
our mother this evening. She will need some reassurance.”

  He looked at Rose. “And you have to decide what you’re going to tell your parents,” he told her. “The truth would only upset them, I think.”

  Rose flushed. “Yes, My Lord.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Well,” Isabella said, as we stepped into the dorm. “Look at Scarface and her friend.”

  I scowled. I was too tired to argue with anyone. My body was insisting, loudly, that it needed food and sleep, perhaps not in that order. I didn't think Rose felt any better, but I didn't know. She hadn't said a word to me since we’d left the office and headed to the dorm.

  “I was given lines for handing in my homework late,” Isabella continued, sharply. “And do you know why? Because Magistra Loanda gave us all an extra essay on safety that we had to turn in on Thursday! It’s your fault.”

  “Give it a rest, Isabella,” Henrietta said, from her bedside. “We all got the essay. You just didn't do your homework because you had netball.”

  Isabella swung around to stare at Henrietta. I took advantage of the distraction to walk past her and sit on my bed. There were a handful of notes and cards piled on the sheets, including a surprisingly sweet card from Alana and Bella. I picked it up, feeling an odd flicker of affection for my sisters. Underneath it, there was another - unsigned - card. I turned it over and over, wondering just who had sent it. But there was nothing to point to the sender. I doubted there was any magical signature left, even if I’d been able to sense it. Whoever had sent the card wanted to remain unidentified.

  I glanced at Rose, then looked back at the card. Rose looked ... shattered. I wondered if she no longer wanted to be my friend. How could I blame her? I wanted to talk to her, but I didn't know what to say. She had to be mad at me. I’d nearly condemned her to death - or a fate worse than death. My folly ...

  ... And yet, I’d made the formula work.

  Isabella turned and marched towards my bed. “My wrists are aching,” she said, holding them out for inspection. “What are you going to do about it, little zero?”

  I tilted my head so she could see my jaw. “My jaw is itching,” I said. The grafted skin felt papery as it melded into my flesh. “And I can't do anything about that either.”

  The dinner bell rang, a second later. I glanced at Rose and motioned for her to come with me. She nodded, but said nothing as we hurried down the stairs. Silence fell as we entered the dining hall. I forced myself to keep going as the students, even some of the teachers, stared at us. By now, rumour probably claimed we’d blown up the entire South Wing. It had been sealed off for the last four months.

  Rose didn't say anything to me as we ate dinner, then returned to the dorm and climbed into bed. She just pulled the drapes around her bed before going to sleep. I felt my heart break a little more as I closed my own drapes. Rose had been my first real friend and she was rejecting me ... and I couldn't even blame her! I felt my stomach heave as I lay down and gritted my teeth. The potions were working their way out of my body now. I was in for an uncomfortable night.

  My dreams were so weird that I wondered if someone had hexed me while I slept. I was burning, yet I wasn't burning. I could move, yet I couldn't move. I was standing in quicksand, yet I wasn't sinking ... I awoke, covered in sweat, at four in the morning. My brain refused to let me go back to sleep, so I opened a book and tried to read. Someone - and I suspected Magistra Loanda - had dumped a pair of volumes on particularly volatile potion combinations on my bedside cabinet. She’d probably been furious to discover that I hadn't been suspended after all ...

  My blood ran cold. What if I could no longer forge?

  I’d done something reckless, if not stupid. That could not be denied. Magister Tallyman might think I shouldn't be allowed to work in his forge, certainly not without supervision. I felt tears prickling at my eyes as it sank in. I might have been banned from doing anything without supervision. Had I lost everything in one fell swoop?

  Take your lumps, I told myself, sharply. Rose could have been kicked out of the school because of you.

  It was a relief when it was finally time to get up and go to breakfast. The dining hall was completely empty when I entered, allowing me to sit down and eat in peace. Rose entered twenty minutes later, looking as though she hadn't had any sleep. I tried to signal that she should join me, but she sat at the other side of the room and munched her breakfast without saying a word. She probably hated me now. I wanted to lash out at her - I’d written my father a blank check - yet how could I blame her? Jude’s was the best thing that had ever happened to her, and she’d nearly lost it because of me.

  Sandy collared us both when we returned to the dorm. “Put these on,” she said, shoving a pair of overalls at us. “You have work to do.”

  I winced. I’d hoped to speak to Magister Tallyman and discover if I was still allowed to forge. But Dad had said we would be punished. The overalls smelt unpleasant - I felt grimy after pulling them over my itchy skin - and looked worse. I glanced in the mirror and scowled. My face still looked like a patchwork doll. Rose, thankfully, looked almost back to normal.

  “You’re going to be servants for the rest of the day,” Sandy informed us, as she led the way down the corridor. “You do what the janitor tells you, understand?”

  “Yes,” I said, tonelessly.

  “And don’t even think about trying to sneak off,” Sandy added. “You will be caught and you will be punished.”

  I nodded as the janitor came into view. She was a tall woman, nearly as tall as my father, wearing a set of grimy overalls that revealed her muscular arms and legs. Her face was florid, set in an uncompromisingly pinched expression. I knew the type from experience. A female servant - almost a maid - but not a fainting flower. She would supervise the maids and work with the butler to run the household. Indeed, in some of the lesser houses, she would be the butler. And there was a wand dangling from her belt ...

  A magician, I thought. And probably quite a formidable one.

  “I have brought them for you,” Sandy said. “Please send them back to the dorms when you’re done.”

  She shot us both a sharp look, then hurried away. I looked up at the janitor, feeling cold. I knew the type too well. They never let anyone get away with anything, even if the person they were supervising was the heir. Mum had hired one for four years - she’d been a governess - and even Alana had been terrified of her. I’d found it a relief when she finally moved on.

  “There are brushes, buckets and sponges in the locker,” the janitor said, coldly. “Take one of each, fill the buckets with warm water, then follow me.”

  We did as we were told. The janitor waited for us, then led the way down a hidden passageway and into a particularly muddy corridor. It took me a moment to realise that it led directly to the sports fields outside the school. The janitor barked harsh orders - we were to get down on our hands and knees and scrub the floor - and then left us to it with a parting threat. I thought she was bluffing - I didn't think she was allowed to slap us - but I didn't feel like testing it.

  I looked at Rose as we began to work. “I’m sorry.”

  Rose said nothing. Instead, she turned away from me and continued to scrub the floor. I stared at her backside, torn between anger and bitter guilt. I’d helped her, hadn't I? But I’d hurt her too ... I’d almost sooner have been hexed than endure her silent reproach. And yet ...

  “I don’t know why it exploded,” I said, addressing her back. I knew she could hear me. “It shouldn't have exploded ...”

  The equations said it shouldn't have exploded, my thoughts added. But it did ...

  My mind started to race as I scrubbed the floor. Dad had told me that figures never lied, unless someone was fiddling with them. He’d shown us all the household accounts, teaching us how a mistake - or deliberate malice - could alter the books. Someone taking money out - and not writing it down - could screw up the entire system. And yet ...

  I stopped, dead. Mayb
e it was something about me that had made the formula work.

  “It worked once,” I said, out loud. “Why didn't it work twice?”

  I tossed the thought around and around. Dumb luck?

  It didn't seem likely. Anyone could cast a spell without knowing what it actually did. I’d once tricked Alana into turning herself into a pig, just by giving her a spell I’d carefully rewritten to reverse the polarity of the magic flow. No, simple logic told me there had to be another answer. The equations insisted that the formula had to work for everyone - or someone more experienced than me would have found the flaw. And yet it didn't. I was the only person, as far as my Dad knew, who’d made it work.

  Rose was there, my thoughts pointed out. She was very close to the caldron ...

 

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