The Zero Curse

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  I lay down on the bed and looked up at the ceiling. I’d never really wanted to be popular ... no, that wasn't true. I had wanted to be popular, but I’d never been popular. And I wasn't sure how to handle it. Part of me was tempted to push it, to build a circle of friends that would support me; part of me figured that it was a very bad idea. I might be unique - now - but that wouldn't last. There would be other Zeroes.

  And being popular didn't work out so well for Isabella, my thoughts pointed out. My blood ran cold as the thought sank in. All her friends deserted her when she lost the duel.

  I could hear a faint sound, rising and falling in the night air. Rose was snoring ... she’d forgotten to put up her wards. I felt a sudden rush of affection, driven with an awareness that Rose was a true friend. She’d seen me at my worst - and I’d nearly killed her - and she still put up with me. And I wouldn't have blamed her for leaving ...

  Goodnight, I thought. I yawned and closed my eyes as sleep beckoned. I’ll see you in the morning.

  Chapter Ten

  The weirdness only grew stronger the following morning.

  Rose and I got out of bed early, dressed in our uniforms and headed down to breakfast. No one paid much attention to Rose - she was just a common-born firstie - but me? People were staring, even upperclassmen who normally wouldn't have admitted to noticing me unless I was doing something they could punish. Girls and boys who were on the very edge of adulthood - old enough to live on their own, old enough to marry, old enough to walk away from their families if they wished - were watching me. It was ... creepy.

  None of them spoke to me, of course. That would have surprised me even more. An upperclassman wouldn't talk to a lowerclassman, not socially. If I’d had older siblings, they wouldn't have talked to me either, not in public. There were lines between the class years that couldn't be crossed on pain of the most sarcastic remarks from one’s peers. But even paying attention to me was odd. It worried me more than I cared to admit.

  We picked up our food, then sat down at a table to eat. The upperclassmen kept looking at us - at me - even as we ate, their gazes following me as I lifted the spoon to my mouth. I felt uneasy as I ate my porridge, feeling as though I was being confronted by a whole army of elderly relatives who wanted to criticise my table manners. I had never known that a young girl eating a bowl of porridge could be so fascinating.

  Beside me, Rose ate with gusto and went back for a second helping. I didn't really blame her, even though the porridge tasted rather bland. She’d grown up in a place where the food was worse and second helpings were rare. A bad winter might make the difference between seeing another year and starving to death. I wondered just how many upperclassmen were silently criticising her table manners. Rose wasn’t rude enough to chew with her mouth open, unlike some boys I could name, but it was clear she hadn't been given any formal instruction on how to eat in polite society.

  Something we will have to consider, later, I thought. Perhaps I can talk Bella into giving her lessons.

  The thought made me scowl. I hated etiquette, but Rose would have to learn if she wanted to pass as a well-born magician. People wouldn't question her birth if she wore fine clothes and spoke like an aristocrat, not unless they wanted to marry her. I had to smile at the thought, even though I knew it would horrify Alana and her peers. Rose was talented enough - as a magician - to be a very worthy prize for a lesser house. They’d overlook her birth if she did nothing to bring it to their attention.

  I finished my bowl and sat back, watching as the dining room continued to fill. Jude’s had students from all over the country, a mingling of people of different colours and creeds, united only by magic. A handful of students had even come from outside the country, including a pair of slant-eyed girls from Hangchow. I studied them with interest, trying not to make it obvious. Hangchow was on the other side of the world, their magical learning different enough from others to make sharing information potentially lucrative. It wasn’t easy to get there and back, not in less than six months. I couldn't help wondering why the students had come to Jude’s.

  Probably to get an education, I thought, dryly. It wouldn't have been an easy trip. My father owned a handful of trading ships and held shares in several more, but the risk of losing a vessel - and the investment - was terrifyingly high. And then go home to teach other students.

  Beside me, Rose stared at them in fascination. Tintagel, thanks to the Thousand-Year Empire, has always been a pretty mixed society as far as the races are concerned, but the Hangchowese still stood out. Their nation had never been a part of the Thousand-Year Empire: they don’t speak the language, they don’t share the heritage, they don’t even share our faith in our ancestors. And yet, they had come to live and study in Shallot. They couldn't be that different.

  I looked up as Magistra Haydon strode up to us. “Your timetable for the next two weeks,” she said, holding out a sheet of paper. “I’ll be seeing you this afternoon.”

  “Thank you,” I said.

  I scanned the timetable as the Magical Growth tutor walked away. It wasn't as bad as I’d feared. I’d still be sharing most of my classes with the rest of the year, although I’d be engaging in private study while they were practising magic. I was surprised I’d been included in defence classes at all ... I could defend myself with an Object of Power, but I would be helpless without them. And there was a whole new class: Questioning Assumptions. I had no idea what that was ...

  “We haven’t had it yet,” Rose said, when I asked. “It’ll be my first time too.”

  The bell rang, warning us that classes started in fifteen minutes. I glanced around the room, spotting Alana with her cronies and Bella reading a book. There was no sign of Isabella ... I hadn't seen her at all, not since we’d gone to sleep. I wondered, absently, if she’d bothered to get up. Sandy wouldn't be pleased, but Isabella probably wouldn’t care. I shrugged and led the way out of the hall. We had potions first thing, and Magistra Loanda would be furious if we were late. Her sharp tongue had been one of the first things we’d learnt to dread.

  Rose nudged me as we picked our way through the maze of corridors. “Did you become a princess while you were away?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. I had to smile. King Rufus had three daughters, seven nieces and a number of other girls who were in the line of succession and technically had the right to be called princess. But I was unique. “They’re just ... being stupid.”

  Jude’s maze of corridors, passageways and stairs never changed, I’ve been assured. But I didn't really believe it. The school had expanded outwards from the first building, swallowing up a multitude of others in its path. I couldn’t help thinking, as we made our way down a flight of stairs that had clearly been designed for a smaller building, that warding the immense school had to be incredibly difficult. Jude’s had just kept expanding to the point where it was threatening to knock down the outer walls. Finding one’s way around was a chore. I’d studied maps, back in my first week, and I still wasn't sure I could confidently find my way from one side of the building to the other without getting lost somewhere along the way.

  A handful of students were already waiting outside the potions classroom, reading books or mumbling prayers as they checked their homework for errors. They looked too busy to notice us, but when we joined the line they started to stare too. I braced myself - I wasn't sure for what - as they jostled forward. There was no social stigma in one firstie talking to another.

  Magistra Loanda appeared, sweeping past us and opening the door. “Take your seats,” she ordered, as she walked into her classroom. “Caitlyn, take the seat in the far corner.”

  I frowned as we followed her into the room. Magistra Loanda had given me a worktable of my own, instead of the table I normally shared with Rose. It wasn't any larger, but just having more space to myself would be wonderful. I’d grown too used to working on my giant workbench at home. An iron cauldron sat on top of a stove, a stove that reminded me of an oil-burning lantern I
’d seen once. There had been no magic in it, my tutor had said, when he’d shown me the artefact. It had dated all the way back to the long-lost days before the Thousand-Year Empire. I’d never seen anything like it until now.

  Rose took the table nearest to me, looking nervous. I didn’t blame her. She would have been forced to work with someone else while I’d been away, someone who might not have worked so well with her. Magistra Loanda took a dim view of pranks played in her classroom, but she couldn't do anything about more subtle trouble. Rose was learning, yet no one could learn fast enough to match some of our classmates.

  I reached into my pocket and recovered the stirrers. Two of them had been charged yesterday, with help from Mum and Dad; two of them didn't need to be charged, if the ancient texts were correct. They’d been harder to make too, I had to admit as I placed them by the cauldron. I'd wanted to make ten, but eight of the finicky little devices hadn't survived the forging process. I hadn't been able to figure out a way to lessen the strain on the wood.

  Yet, I told myself.

  Magistra Loanda clicked her fingers, a moment after Isabella and Rupert - the latter sitting down next to Rose - entered the room. The door shut with a loud BANG.

  “We will be brewing something more complex today,” she informed us, as she strode back to the front of the class and nodded to the blackboard. A complicated recipe appeared on the board. “How many of you can tell me what sort of potion this is?”

  I studied the recipe for a long moment. A base composed of common herbs, the ones that could be found in almost any garden, but active ingredients that included snake eyes and fish scales? A healing potion was the most obvious answer, yet ... two of the ingredients would make the drinker be sick almost at once, while a third would ... unless the different ingredients balanced each other. And that meant ...?

  Isabella stuck up her hand. “A precautionary potion, Magistra.”

  “Correct,” Magistra Loanda said. She shot Isabella an approving smile. “Druid’s Draught, to be precise. And what - if I may ask - does it do?”

  “It strengthens the body against viruses and poisons,” Isabella told her. “And it forces an immediate reaction if someone is infected.”

  “Very good,” Magistra Loanda said. She leaned back, addressing the entire class. “Druid’s Draught is useless, I should add, if the victim has already been infected - or poisoned. It is generally only taken when explorers head into the wildlands to the south, where all sorts of deadly diseases can be found. Some people have reported effects when the potion is given, in desperation, to someone who has clearly been infected, but they have been minimal.”

  She paused. “So why are we learning to brew it?”

  Bella waved her hand in the air. “Because it teaches us skills we need to learn?”

  Magistra Loanda raised her eyebrows. “Correct,” she said. “Druid’s Draught is odd because it is unforgiving, yet doesn't have a habit of exploding when the ingredients are mixed up or not properly treated. But don’t get complacent! Anyone caught being careless will regret it.”

  Her eyes swept the classroom. “You have ninety minutes. Begin.”

  I read and reread the ingredients, making sure I had them memorised before I went to the supply cupboard. Magistra Loanda would not be happy if I had to run back while I was trying to brew the potion, no matter how minimal the danger. Rose joined me a moment later as we went to gather our supplies, joining the throng jostling for space inside the giant cupboard. I made a face as I saw the cockroaches in their cage - they weren't poisonous, but the ones raised for the apothecaries gave nasty bites - and breathed a sigh of relief that we wouldn't be killing and dissecting them for ingredients today. They weren't the worst creatures we had to harvest, but they were certainly the least pleasant.

  Rose nudged me. “Will you be alright?”

  Isabella overheard. “Will you be alright? Will you be alright?”

  I felt my cheeks grow warm. “Yes, thank you,” I said, as politely as I could. Isabella would know I was mocking her, but ... so what? “I’m sure I will be fine.”

  We carried the ingredients back to the table, then divided them out. It was important to have everything ready, right from the start. I weighed the seeds, checked the herbs for any unexpected surprises and then finally lit the stove with the firelighter. A firelighter without magic was rare too, as far as I knew. I couldn't help wondering where it had come from.

  Magistra Loanda watched us like a hawk as we prepared the base liquid, snapping out instructions, corrections and detentions whenever one of us made a mistake. She was a harsh woman - it was something of a tradition among potioneers - but my mother wasn't much better, when she was trying to teach us the basics. I didn't really blame her. A single explosion could do a great deal of harm, despite the wards protecting the classroom. I didn't want to think about a cauldron of boiling water being blasted in all directions.

  I picked up the first stirrer as the liquid started to bubble and, bracing myself, lowered it into the cauldron. The stirrer grew warm in my hand, an instant before a faint light blazed through the boiling liquid. I pulled the stirrer back and watched, my eyes going wide with relief, as the base liquid shimmered into existence. It was perfect.

  “Very well done, Caitlyn,” Magistra Loanda said.

  “Cheat,” Isabella muttered.

  Her voice was just loud enough to be heard. The room went quiet, very quiet. I had a sudden flashback to the moment I’d insulted Great Aunt Stregheria, the moment when she’d attempted to curse me ...

  “Stay behind after class,” Magistra Loanda ordered. Her voice was very cold. “And if your potion isn't perfect, you’ll be redoing it until you get it right.”

  I tore my attention away from the scene and started to prepare the second half of the potion, carefully dropping the active ingredients into the liquid one by one. The shimmer grew stronger as the potion started its transformation, but it was hard to be sure it was perfect. I wished - not for the first time - that I could sense magic. The spectacles could help me to see magic, but not sense it. I couldn't manipulate it as effectively as any of my peers.

  Bracing myself, I picked up the second stirrer and dropped the final ingredient into the cauldron. The liquid turned green and started to bubble. I lowered the stirrer into the liquid and stirred, carefully counting each clockwise and anticlockwise stir. A normal magician could feel when she’d infused enough magic into the brew, but I couldn't do that. I’d just have to hope my calculations were correct.

  There was another shimmer and the potion started to turn into a sickly yellow colour. I took a breath and regretted it, instantly. The stench was awful. That wasn't uncommon for healing potions, I knew from bitter experience, but this one was particularly bad. I wasn't sure I could have forced myself to drink it, even if I needed it. The explorers in the wildlands - which had been left devastated after the Sorcerous Wars - were definitely brave men.

  Or they have no sense of taste or smell, I thought, wryly. Perhaps they numbed it deliberately so they could drink the potion.

  “Good work,” Magistra Loanda said. “That would be suitable for the healers, I think.”

  I jumped. I hadn't noticed her standing there. She moved so silently I hadn't heard her approaching.

  “Thank you,” I stammered. “Is it drinkable?”

  “It should be drinkable as long as the drinker holds their nose,” Magistra Loanda said. She picked up the used stirrer and examined it, thoughtfully. “I look forward to considering other uses for these.”

  I swallowed, suddenly unsure what to say. I’d dreamed of the day I’d be useful, the day people would listen to me ... and now it was here, I wasn't sure what to do with it. Magistra Loanda wanted to play with something only I could provide. I was unique and yet ... I wasn't sure what I wanted. But I had the rest of my life to figure it out.

  “I can make more,” I said. “But it will take time.”

  “We have time,” Magistra Loanda said. “There are
some potions that you might be able to brew using them - or not, without them.”

  “My mother said the same thing,” I said.

  “I’ll discuss it with her,” Magistra Loanda said. She glanced at Rose’s potion, which was rapidly shading from yellow to purple. “A little too much magic, I think. The cascade reaction is out of control.”

  She walked the room. Isabella had managed her potion perfectly - I admit I was a little annoyed about that - but most of the others had failed to brew the potion successfully. I watched and listened as Magistra Loanda pointed out what had gone wrong each time, then explain how to avoid it. Most of them hadn't been precise enough when measuring out the ingredients.

  “I need to practice,” Rose said. “How do I do that?”

  “Carefully,” I said. I could tell her the theory, but actually doing it ...? Bella wanted me to help with her homework. I could get her to teach Rose in exchange. “We’ll review the theory in the library.”

  “Isabella, remain behind,” Magistra Loanda said, as the bell rang. “The rest of you can go.”