The Zero Curse

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  I reached for my notebook and opened it, checking my work one final time. The calculations hadn't been that difficult, although I’d had to adapt some of the runes to adjust for modern-day materials. Whoever had come up with the original swords had been a genius, as well as a Zero. The network of runes that channelled magic into the blade had to be precise or the spell would simply refuse to work. Thankfully, I’d learnt the value of precision long ago. My sisters had enough power to compensate for deviations - often very big deviations - from perfect spellforms, but lesser magicians needed to be precise. Not that it mattered to me, in any case. I could speak a spell perfectly, with all the accent on the right syllables, and nothing would happen.

  And yet, I can forge Objects of Power, I reminded myself, as I picked up the etching tool and held it over the sword. I am unique.

  I’d forged the etching tool myself, as tradition demanded. I wasn't too sure if it mattered - the harmony most magicians experienced when they used tools they’d crafted themselves was alien to me - but it wasn't a tradition I wanted to abandon. Forging had given me a sense of purpose, of achievement, a long time before I’d realised what I could do. And besides, it kept my mind off uncomfortable truths. There were things I didn't want to think about, even now.

  Bending over the sword, I carefully pressed the etching tool against the metal and carved out the first rune. The metal was softer than it should have been - the silver cradle made it easier to carve, although I didn't pretend to understand why - but I still moved with immense care. I didn't have time to start again from scratch, not when I was due back at school in a couple of days. Besides, I wasn't sure what would happen if I melted down the sword to reuse the metal. In theory, it shouldn't make any difference; in practice, I wasn't so sure. I’d seen forging go horribly wrong because the metal had already been tainted by magic.

  The first rune fell into place, neatly. I took a moment to catch my breath - sweat was already trickling down my back - and then started on the second. My calculations insisted that the magic wouldn't take effect until the last rune was in place, but I kept a wary eye on the blade anyway, just in case. A surge of magic that seemingly came out of nowhere would be dangerous, not least because I couldn't sense the surge and take cover until it was too late. As far as magic was concerned, I was the blind girl in the kingdom of the sighted.

  My hands were aching by the time I’d worked my way through a dozen runes. I stepped backwards, taking a deep breath. Magicians who forged Devices of Power claimed that the work couldn't be paused, once it was underway, but I’d never had a problem when I’d forged Objects of Power. I rather suspected that my lack of magic actually kept the runes from activating early, too early to let the spellforms take shape properly. It was something else I intended to test, when I had a moment. Rose and I would have a lot of fun testing the limits of my abilities.

  And then the lanterns dimmed, just slightly.

  I tensed. Someone was outside the main door ... no, someone was trying to use magic to open the main door. It couldn't be my parents. Mum was in the garden, picking herbs for a potion she wanted to try; Dad was playing host to our very unwelcome guest. And besides, they would have knocked - loudly - if they’d wanted to come in. Very few people would enter a magician’s workroom without permission. The servants certainly wouldn't dare. My list of suspects was very short indeed.

  Alana, I thought. She’s been quiet - too quiet - since Dad yanked all three of us out of school.

  I slipped back to the mirror, moving as quietly as I could. I’d had far too much practice in sneaking around over the years, although it wasn't as much use as I’d hoped. Even a relatively young magician like my sister could cast wards to protect her belongings. Picking up one of the earrings, I cupped it in my hand and walked to the other workbench as I heard the sound of someone opening the door. It was very quiet, so quiet that I knew the intruder meant trouble. There’s nothing quite so alarming as the sound of someone doing everything in their power not to be heard. Alana must have assumed that her silencing spell had actually worked. It had, but the runes I’d carved into the door had drawn on the magic to dim the lanterns, then cancelled the spell.

  Good thing she didn't cast the spell on herself, I thought, as I kept the earring pressed against my skin. It shouldn't make a difference, according to the books, as long as it was touching me. She might have noticed that the spell had failed if she’d intended to ensure that she couldn't hear either.

  I kept my back to the door as stealthy footsteps echoed down the tiny corridor, even though I wanted to turn - or run. I had too many bad memories of being hexed to feel calm when my sister was behind me. Alana had to be annoyed about something. Our parents had told her, in no uncertain terms, not to use magic anywhere near my workroom. Even Alana would have hesitated, normally, to defy Dad. He wasn't the sort of person anyone defied twice.

  “Freeze,” Alana said.

  I felt the earring grow warm in my hand, tingling just for a second. Alana made a sound that cut off so sharply that it made me jump. I turned, slowly. Alana was standing there, utterly unmoving. A surprised expression dominated her frozen face. I walked towards her slowly, wondering just how long she’d intended to freeze me. She knew - now - that spells simply didn't cling to me for long. It was very possible that she’d never bothered to calculate just how long her spell should have left me frozen.

  And spells do cling to her, I thought, feeling a flash of vindictive glee. Alana was a powerful and skilled magician, for her age, but I didn't think she could unfreeze herself without being able to move her hands. Even an upperclassman would have problems. She might have trapped herself until midnight.

  “That was stupid,” I said, doing my best to imitate the tone my mother used when she was reprimanding us for being foolish. “Using magic in here? You could have triggered an explosion.”

  That wasn't true, I thought. But as long as she believed it was true ...

  I walked around behind her, wrapped my arms around her chest and picked her up. It wasn't easy. Alana was lighter than me, I thought - she was certainly skinny - but she was as stiff and unmoving as a board. I half-carried, half-dragged her out of the workroom door, down the corridor and through the door into the main house. It was quiet, too quiet. I glanced in either direction, then manhandled Alana into the nearest closet and closed the door. She’d be stuck there until someone found her or the spell wore off.

  Or if she manages to free herself, I thought. My sister had always been an overachiever when it came to magic. She might just make it.

  I shrugged as I turned and walked back to the workroom. It was much more likely that she’d be discovered by one of the maids. They’d been working overtime, the last few days. I rather suspected that whoever found Alana would be tempted to leave her, but the maids would be reluctant to risk being fired. Alana was a vindictive person at the best of times.

  And she left me in a cupboard too, hundreds of times, I thought. Perhaps I should have felt guilty. But I didn't. She did far worse to me.

  I sighed as I stepped through the door. I had work to finish before dinnertime. My parents would let me work until the wee small hours, if I wanted, but I knew I wouldn't be in the mood. I knew it. Our family has the best chef in Shallot, but I wasn't looking forward to dinner.

  Great Aunt Stregheria was coming to tea.

  Chapter Two

  I was tempted, very tempted, to pretend I hadn't heard the dinner gong, when it echoed through the house. But I knew my mother would not be fooled. She’d spelled the gong to ensure that anyone within the grounds could hear it, even if they were in the library or a sealed workroom. I finished the last of the runes, put my protective charms back into place and then hurried to my bedroom. The maids had already laid my clothes on the bed.

  At least they don’t have to worry about me warding my room, I thought sourly, as I closed the door behind me. My sisters could use magic to keep their possessions safe - and unhexed - but I wasn't so lucky. They jus
t have to worry about keeping Great Aunt Stregheria happy instead.

  I couldn't help feeling a flicker of sympathy. This time, thankfully, my parents had not insisted that we wait hand and foot on the old crone, but that meant that the duty was shifted to the younger maids. I didn't think there was any crime that deserved such a horrific punishment. If Great Aunt Stregheria was rude and thoroughly unpleasant to us, her nieces, I dreaded to think how horrible she must be to minor family. I wouldn't have been surprised if I’d been told the maids had quit on the spot rather than work for us any longer.

  I quickly discovered that the dress was as frilly and absurd as I feared. Mum didn't normally bother making us dress for dinner, but with Great Aunt Stregheria at the table we had to look our best. I glanced wistfully at the shower, then at the grandfather clock my parents had given me after I returned home. There wasn't time to do more than wash my hands and splash water on my face before I got dressed. Being late for a formal dinner - even a dinner that only featured one guest - was the sort of thing that would lead to a frank exchange of views with my mother. She detested Great Aunt Stregheria, but she detested rudeness still more.

  I pulled on the wretched dress, then inspected myself in the mirror. The long white gown looked faintly absurd on my lanky form, even though it contrasted nicely with the colour of my skin. I was lucky that mum hadn't joined other High Society ladies when it came to the latest fashions for growing girls. I’d seen dresses that were so absurdly complex that the wearer needed two maids to help them get the dresses on and off. I couldn’t help feeling as though the girls were forced to wear them, which made me wonder why the adults wore similar dresses. But then, the dictates of fashion had always been a mystery to me.

  Mum would have to use magic to force me into such a dress, I thought.

  I smiled at the thought, even though it wasn't really amusing. Thankfully, my mother had given me something relatively comfortable. Alana might enjoy wearing ballroom gowns that were really scaled-down adult dresses, but I never had. I was not going to walk around wearing a fanned-out dress so large that sitting down at the dinner table would prove impossible. I’d long since come to believe that the reason society ladies stayed so thin was because they couldn't sit down to dinner, while eating on one’s feet was regarded as bad manners. But perhaps it had something more to do with the formal dancing afterwards.

  Pulling my hair down, I braided it into a long ponytail and inspected it in the mirror. Great Aunt Stregheria would sniff, I was sure, if there was even a single hair out of place. She’d probably be looking for some reason to complain, if I knew her. It was a mystery to me why anyone asked her back for a second time. I was fairly sure that my father hadn't invited her, not after what had happened two years ago. But that did raise the question of why she’d come.

  And why Dad let her through the gate, I thought, as I clipped on my earrings and concealed a bracelet high up my sleeve. Mum banned her from the estate after she used her magic on us.

  The second gong rang, the sound echoing through the house. I swallowed hard - the prospect of facing Great Aunt Stregheria again was enough to make me want to run away - and headed for the door. June, the youngest of the maids, stood outside, looking as if she was nerving herself up to knock. I don’t know why she was so worried. It wasn't as if she was dancing attendance on Great Aunt Stregheria. In her place, I would have been thrilled to be well away from the guest wing.

  “You look lovely, My Lady,” she said.

  “Thank you,” I said, tartly. The dress might not have been uncomfortable, but it wasn't what I liked to wear. “Leave the room alone. I’ll clean it up later.”

  June curtseyed, a flicker of ... something ... crossing her face. I felt a stab of guilt, which blurred into the butterflies in my stomach. It was probably too late to commit some hideous crime that would get me sent to bed without supper. And even if I did, my mother would probably insist that having to go to dinner was a worse punishment than going without. An evening with Great Aunt Stregheria would feel like an eternity.

  I touched the bracelet on my arm as I walked down the corridor, passing a long row of portraits that glowered down at me disapprovingly. I’d often wondered just how I fitted into the family, even though I could draw and wield the Family Sword. The Aguirre Family dates all the way back to the Thousand-Year Empire, if you believe our historians. We have always been powerful magicians, counsellors to kings ... sometimes even kingmakers in our own right. My lack of magic had shamed the entire line. Alana had told me, more than once, that I’d be disowned - or worse - the moment she took over the family. There had been times when I feared my parents would disown me well before they died.

  And now they know what I can do, I thought. They don’t want to disown me now.

  A cold shiver ran down my spine as I reached the formal dining room. It was immense, easily large enough to accommodate a couple of hundred people. The large table in the centre of the chamber looked tiny, faintly absurd compared to the immensity of the room. I would have preferred the family dining room, which was smaller and more comfortable, but my mother clearly had other ideas. Perhaps she was hinting that Great Aunt Stregheria was far from welcome. I rather doubted Great Aunt Stregheria had gotten the message.

  My father sat at one end of the table, his face utterly expressionless; my mother sat at the other, her lips so thin with disapproval that they’d practically vanished. Great Aunt Stregheria sat next to my father, her dark eyes cold and hard. Belladonna, my other sister, sat on the far side, as far from our unwelcome guest as she could without being unbearably rude. The tension in the air was so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

  “Caitlyn,” Dad said. He rose, indicating the seat next to Great Aunt Stregheria. “Please, take a seat.”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. My mouth was dry. Sitting next to Great Aunt Stregheria ... I would sooner have sat next to a basilisk. Or a dragon. At least it would have been over quickly. I walked around the table, pausing long enough to curtsey to my mother, then took the seat. Courtesy forbade me from inching the chair away from the vindictive old crone.

  Great Aunt Stregheria turned to look at me. I looked back, fighting down the urge to cringe back in my chair. It was hard to believe that she was related to my father, even though I’d seen her wield the Family Sword too. My father was a tall, powerfully-built man; Great Aunt Stregheria was slight, but with an attitude of power and menace that made her look like a vulture eying wounded prey. Her skin was still flawless, her hair as black as night ... I couldn't help wondering if she used magic to keep it that way. My father was twenty or so years younger than her and he was already showing signs of going grey.

  Perhaps it’s having us kids, I thought, as I turned my attention to the table. The maids had covered the table with a white cloth, then laid out a dozen sets of cutlery. Great Aunt Stregheria never married, let alone had children.

  I should have felt sorry for her, I knew. Even now, Great Aunt Stregheria wore her hair down, signifying an unmarried woman of marriageable age. And yet, she had never married, never had children. It was one of the reasons her brother - my grandfather - had decided to pass the family headship to my father, rather than someone close to them in age. But the nasty part of my mind had no trouble understanding why Great Aunt Stregheria was still unmarried, despite her family ties. There wasn't enough wealth and power in the world to make someone willingly spend the rest of their life with her.

  Mum cleared her throat. “Where is Alana?”

  Bella looked up. “I haven't seen her all day, Mum ...”

  I froze as the realisation crashed into my head. I’d left Alana frozen ... and she was still frozen. It was the only explanation of why she hadn’t made it to dinner. Alana admired Great Aunt Stregheria, even though she feared the old crone too. And besides, she knew better than to be late. Alana had always taken the social niceties more seriously than either Bella or me.

  Dad eyed me, suspiciously. He practically had a six
th sense for when one of us had done something Not Allowed.

  “Caitlyn?”

  I wanted to lie. But I knew better. “I ... I reflected her spell onto her and left her frozen in the cupboard, near my workroom,” I said. “She must still be trapped.”

  My father gave me a look that promised trouble later, then rang the bell for the maid. When Lucy appeared, he told her where to find Alana and escort her to the dining room as quickly as possible. I groaned inwardly, kicking myself for forgetting. Alana wouldn't have time to change, let alone do anything else. She’d have to come to the table in her afternoon dress. My parents might not object - much - to us casting spells on each other, but they’d be annoyed if we made them look bad in front of outsiders. And Great Aunt Stregheria would rub it in as much as possible.

  We sat in uncomfortable silence until Alana arrived, her face a mask that concealed pure rage. I would have to watch my back for the next few days. Alana would slam a hex into me as soon as she got a chance. And while I could protect myself - now - to some extent, she knew I wasn't invulnerable. She was certainly smart enough to think of a way to get around my protections.

  “Be seated,” Dad said. His dark eyes swept the table. “Let us give thanks to our ancestors for our lineage.”