The Zero Curse

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  “And I understand that you are now embarking on a course of study tailored to you,” she added, after a moment. “How do you feel about that?”

  “I feel it will be useful,” I said. I’d already used some of the theory I’d been taught to design and forge the sword. “It gives me a chance to achieve something of my own.”

  “It also isolates you from your classmates,” Magistra Haydon pointed out. “How do you feel about that?”

  I sighed. “I was always isolated,” I said. Rose had been the only real exception and even she had enough magic to make a name for herself. The others had been more interested in hexing me than making friends. “That has not changed.”

  “You have a very cynical view,” Magistra Haydon said, lightly. “Why do you feel that way?”

  I shrugged. It wasn't something I wanted to discuss.

  “You’re now the most famous child of your generation,” Magistra Haydon added, when it became apparent that I wasn't going to answer her question. “How do you feel about that?”

  “Odd,” I said. The upperclassmen had kept staring as I walked past them. Whispers followed me everywhere I went. “It feels ... strange.”

  I took another sip of the tea. “I didn't do anything to earn it,” I admitted. “And yet ... I don’t know how I should feel.”

  “That isn't uncommon,” Magistra Haydon said. “But you did do something to earn it, did you not?”

  I shrugged. I’d worked hard to earn my journeyman qualifications in forging. But Akin had done the same and he couldn't forge Objects of Power. There was no way he could match me, no matter how hard he practiced. It didn't seem fair. And yet, there was no way I could match him at magic either. The wands and other focusing devices might allow me to use magic, to some extent, but they didn't give me anything like as much flexibility as a trained magician. I’d caught Isabella by surprise, in the first duel. It wouldn't be so easy if she challenged me to another.

  She might argue that using Objects of Power is cheating, I thought. She’d made the same suggestion in Incantations and Geomancy, after I’d used a focus to craft a spell. And she might just convince the upperclassmen she’s right.

  Magistra Haydon cleared her throat. “Are you listening to me?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. I shook my head. “I just don’t know what to make of it.”

  “Time will pass,” Magistra Haydon assured me. “Someone else will do something that will steal the magelight. And then things will go back to normal.”

  Or they’ll find another Zero, I thought. It was a possibility, after all. And then I might have some competition.

  I had to smile. Demand for Objects of Power had always been high. A thousand Zeroes couldn't meet it, even if they worked from dawn until dusk. Another Zero wouldn’t change things that much, would it? And I’d have someone to talk to who would actually understand what it was like to lack magic. Rose did her best, but she’d been able to sense magic from birth. She wasn’t the blind man in the kingdom of the sighted.

  “I hope so,” I said. I finished the tea and put the cup back on the saucer. “We shall see.”

  Magistra Haydon didn't smile. “We’ll be having these talks every week,” she said. “It is important that we design a course that suits you, as well as any others we discover with your ... particular talent. The Castellan has stated that he wants your opinion of everything.”

  “I understand,” I said. Was it a good idea to teach Zeroes alongside regular magicians? I had my doubts. But I knew the Castellan wouldn't want to open a whole new building, not when it would weaken his control. It might even lead to demands for a whole new school. “And I’ll tell you how I feel after we settle in.”

  “Please feel free to tell us anything,” Magistra Haydon urged. She smiled, warmly. “We’ll see each other again in a week.”

  It was clearly a dismissal. I rose and headed for the door. Hopefully, I’d be able to find an excuse to avoid the next meeting. I didn't like talking about my feelings, even to someone who was oathbound to keep my secrets to herself. Rose was perhaps the only person I felt I could confide in, particularly now. She wouldn't have any reason to share them further.

  An upperclassman was waiting outside, leaning against the wall in a manner that suggested she wasn't meant to be there. She straightened as I approached, her dark eyes fixed on me. I tensed, unsure if I was in trouble or not. It wasn't Lights Out - we hadn't even had dinner yet - but it was odd for a student to visit a classroom outside teaching hours.

  “Caitlyn Aguirre,” she said. Her voice was soft, too soft. And yet, the High Society accent was very pronounced. “Walk with me, please.”

  I sighed, inwardly. I didn't have a choice. An upperclassman’s word was law, as far as we lowerclassmen were concerned. I followed her down the corridor and into a smaller room, an office that clearly wasn’t in use. The cleaners hadn't bothered to visit either, I noted as she pointed me to a chair. Dust lay everywhere. Someone had written an unimaginative comment about a teacher’s body odour on the table. I hoped whoever had done that had left the school by now. The teachers would not see the funny side.

  She closed the door and cast a pair of privacy spells. “Do you know who I am?”

  I studied her for a long moment. She was tall and pale, with long dark hair that was braided into a tight ponytail. Her uniform marked her out as a seventh year, which made her somewhere between eighteen to nineteen. I guessed, judging from her accent alone, that she was from one of the families, but I didn't know her name. She was at least six years older than me, too old for us to have played together when we were younger.

  “No,” I said, hoping she wouldn't take it as an insult. I’d heard stories of upperclassmen who’d handed out lines to juniors they felt hadn’t shown the proper respect. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “I am Jeannine D’Arcy,” she said. “Do you know me now?”

  I forced myself to think. The D’Arcy Family was neutral in the ongoing struggle for power in Magus Court, which - if my father was correct - meant they wanted to hold back until a clear winner emerged. I thought I’d met Lord D’Arcy at some point, when he’d visited the hall for discussions with Dad, but I’d never met any of his children. Unless I was much mistaken, that probably meant he didn't have any children who were around my age.

  “I think I’ve met your father,” I said, slowly. “I don’t think I’ve heard much about you.”

  Jeannine looked relieved. I wondered, absently, just what I was supposed to have heard. But it wasn't really a surprise that I’d heard nothing. She was from a whole different generation to myself ... old enough to marry, old enough to be treated as an adult in her own right. We simply didn't move in the same circles. I doubted Alana had heard much about her either.

  “I want you to make something for me,” she said, leaning forward until our heads were practically touching. Her voice was hushed, even though she’d used good spells to give us privacy. “And I will pay very well.”

  My eyes narrowed. I didn't like people who came so close to me. “What do you want?”

  “There is a design for a charm - an amulet - that dispels lingering spells,” Jeannine said. She lowered her voice still further. “I want you to make one for me.”

  I shuffled my chair backwards. “You can forge something similar in the workrooms,” I pointed out. An upperclassman would have access to a workroom of her own, as long as she behaved herself. “You don’t need me to do that.”

  “I need a perfect amulet,” Jeannine said. There was a hint of desperation in her voice. “It must dispel everything.”

  “I see,” I said. I’d forged a couple of necklaces that dispelled spells. Forging an amulet wouldn't be that much harder. But if she wanted a genuine Object of Power, it would be easy - far too easy - for anyone to trace it back to me. Where else would she have obtained it? I wasn't sure I wanted to get involved until I knew the full story. “What do you want it for?”

  “I can pay,” Jeannine
said, with ill-hidden desperation. I felt a flicker of alarm. Most upperclassmen would have told me to shut up and do as I was told, or else. “I could give you around ... around seventy guilders. Or maybe a hundred, if you gave me time to save ...”

  I blinked. Seventy guilders was a lot of money. Maybe not enough to use as the down payment for a shop, somewhere in Water Shallot, but enough to buy a considerable number of potions ingredients or forging supplies. And whatever I made with them, with or without my talents, would be enough to turn a healthy profit. Jeannine had to be desperate. She was offering me enough money to be noticeable.

  And that worried me. An amulet like the one she wanted could be used for all kinds of malicious purposes. Someone could easily use one to break the protective wards on a roommate’s bed - or worse. I’d used something similar to break into Alana’s room, snapping her wards rather than cracking them. Jeannine might have something similar in mind. And seventy guilders might not be enough to make the consequences worthwhile.

  “I need to know what you want it for,” I said, hoping I could spot a lie. Jeannine seemed to be poor at hiding her reactions, but that could easily be an act. Dad had told me that he’d met a couple of total nincompoops who’d actually been very slippery customers, relying on a facade of idiocy to keep their victims from realising that they were being duped. “What do you want to do with it?”

  Jeannine bit her lip. “Between you and me?”

  “I won’t tell anyone,” I said, although I was unsure if I could keep that promise. My father would demand answers, if the whole affair exploded in my face. “What do you want it for?”

  She looked down at her hands. “My mother ... has laid a number of protective spells on me,” she said. “I want those spells gone.”

  I blinked. Mum had tried to lay protective spells on me, but they’d never lasted. It hadn't been until I’d come to understand my talents that I’d realised why. Mum - or any magician - could put a spell on me, but the spell would only last as long as it had power. And I had no power for the spell to draw on. For once, it was Alana and Bella who had reason to complain.

  “They’ll be gone completely,” I said, as I forced my tired brain to think. “There’s no way you could rebuild them.”

  “I don’t care,” Jeannine said. “I just want them gone.”

  I winced. A spell cast by a blood relative, her mother. It would linger, all right. And it would be so tightly wound into Jeannine’s magic that it would be nearly impossible for her to remove. Her father or siblings might be able to remove it, but anyone else would probably discover that the spell was designed to counter any threat to its existence. There were no shortages of curses designed to attack anyone who tried to remove them. I could easily write a somewhat more benevolent spell that would have the same effect.

  “These spells,” I said. “What do they actually do?”

  Jeannine reddened. “Does it matter?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. I’d overheard a number of stories from the maids, stories they’d told when they thought they couldn't be heard. Mum would not have been pleased if she’d heard them for herself. If they’d been telling the truth ... I winced. There were some things I refused to believe. “The amulet would dispel every spell on you. You couldn't protect yourself while you were wearing it.”

  “But the spells wouldn't come back,” Jeannine said. “Would they?”

  “Not until they were recast,” I agreed. There were some spells that had to be completely dispelled or they rebuilt themselves, but that wouldn't be a problem. Jeannine could wear the amulet for a few minutes, once I had made it, and the spells would be gone. “But it would be very noticeable that they were gone.”

  “I won’t be seeing my mother again until winter,” Jeannine said. “It will be fine.”

  I swallowed. “I don’t want your money,” I said, after a moment. “I want ... a favour, a favour to be redeemed at my discretion.”

  Jeannine eyed me for a long moment. She knew the rules as well as I did. A favour ... I could ask for anything, as long as it was of roughly the same value. But a working Object of Power was almost priceless. I could ask for anything and she knew it. And yet ... she might prefer to owe me a favour, rather than surrender what had to be a large percentage of her life savings. She might need the money if her family disowned her.

  “Very well, saving only my obligations to my family,” Jeannine said. Her voice turned cold and hard. “I trust that will be acceptable?”

  “It will,” I confirmed. I couldn't ask her to betray her family. The family magics would probably turn on her if she tried. “When do you want it?”

  “As soon as possible,” Jeannine said. “And if you could bond it to me, I would be very appreciative.”

  I nodded. An upperclassman owing me a favour would be cool. A graduated magician owing me a favour would be even better. I wouldn't call it in at once, either. Who knew where Jeannine would end up by the time I graduated? And it wasn't as if I’d need to charge her for the materials, either. I could take anything I wanted from the workroom stockpiles.

  “I’ll see to it,” I promised. “But I’ll need you there when I bond it to you.”

  Jeannine nodded. “Keep this to yourself,” she said. She pointed a finger at my chest. “If anyone asks, I dragged you in here to berate you about your jacket being covered in dust.”

  I rose. “My jacket wouldn't have been covered in dust if you hadn't dragged me in here,” I pointed out. I didn't think Magistra Haydon would have been too impressed if I’d walked into her office with dust sifting from my clothes. She’d have sent me right back to change, after assigning detention. “Do you think anyone will notice?”

  “Probably not,” Jeannine said. “And besides, no one will really care.”

  I nodded in agreement. I’d found out, fairly early on, that if there was a dispute between an upperclassman and a lowerclassman, the upperclassman would always win. They were assumed to be more ... honourable than their juniors, although I rather doubted that was remotely true. But then, Sandy hadn't hexed us all into complete silence by now. I supposed that said good things about her self-control.

  And no one will care that Jeannine got me covered in dust, I thought, sourly. They’ll just congratulate her for telling me off.

  Jeannine turned and strode out of the door. I waited several minutes, then followed her to the stairs. If I was lucky, I’d make it down to the dorms in time for a shower before dinnertime. Rose and I had made plans to spend the rest of the evening in the library, before we finally got kicked out. Akin might even join us, if he wasn't busy with his cronies. I couldn't really blame him for putting them first. People would talk if they saw us spending too much time together.

  Sandy raised her eyebrows when I walked into the dorm. “Why are you covered in dust?”

  “I went into the wrong office,” I said, with a wince. “Jeannine D’Arcy already told me off for it.”

  “You can sweep the floor after your shower,” Sandy told me. Thankfully, she didn't seem inclined to do anything else. “Go now before you get it any further.”

  I sighed. It would be easy for her to use a simple spell to clean up the dust. But I could see her point. Casting the spell wouldn't have taught me a lesson, would it?

  But I didn't ask to walk into an office of dust, I thought. That was her idea ...

  I shook my head. Jeannine had been willing to pay through the nose for a single Object of Power, one that only she could use. And it made me wonder just how many other upperclassmen would be interested in making the same deal?

  And if I wind up with a dozen upperclassmen owing me favours, I thought as I walked into the shower, who knows what else I could do?

  I smiled. It was a very promising thought.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I was still contemplating the possibilities the following morning when Rose and I walked into Questioning Assumptions and stopped, dead. The classroom had the usual collection of chairs and tables, but othe
rwise it was completely bare. There was no fire in the grate, no bookshelves or portraits lining the walls ... nothing, save for a single shelf near the front of the room. A single book sat on the shelf, out of reach. The tallest boy in the class couldn't have reached it. Even my father would have had trouble.

  Rose looked at me. “Do you think we went to the wrong classroom?”

  I checked the timetable, then the plaque on the door. Room 6B, Building Seven. It was the right room, just ... empty. No teacher and no students, save for us. I was wondering if there was a problem with our timetables when Alana and Bella arrived from breakfast, the former looking grim. I wondered, as we slowly picked our seats, what was bothering them. It probably wasn't a missing teacher. I touched the earring absently, making sure it was clearly visible. The last thing either of us wanted was to get hexed in the back.