The Zero Curse

by Christopher G. Nuttall

  It might just be time for some experiments, I thought.

  My fingers touched dust as I opened the book. No one had looked at it in years, I guessed. It shouldn't have surprised me. There were more modern textbooks, ones that detailed every rune and sigil we knew. And yet, I knew just how hard my parents - and every other magician in the city - worked to mine secrets from the past. I was surprised that an older student hadn't found the ancient book and studied it intensively.

  But they wouldn't have left the book here if they thought it still held secrets to unlock, I told myself, as I parsed out the text. Dad has volumes that he will never share with anyone outside the family.

  The book felt old against my bare fingers. It lacked even basic protective spells. The runes - one to a page - were faded, some so faint that it was hard to be sure they were complete. And yet, most of them were known runes. The ones that didn't have a known purpose might be useful ... or they might be maker’s marks that had been mistaken for ancient runes. I parsed them out one by one, cursing the writer under my breath. I’d been taught the language, but whoever had written the book seemed to delight in elliptical statements that confused me more often than not. I had to reread each section several times to be sure I understood the meaning.

  “This is a pain,” I muttered.

  Rose looked up, sympathetically. “Do you have to parse out the runes?”

  “Unless I want to start experimenting,” I said. Magister Tallyman would let me experiment, wouldn't he? We could go somewhere well away from the school ... there was a campus somewhere in the hills, wasn't there? I’d been told there was a secondary building at the South Pole, but I didn't believe it. “It would be better to have a good idea of what I was doing first.”

  I felt a flicker of envy for the original designer. He’d have known all the secrets, all the little tricks I had to figure out for myself. I’d advance, I was sure, and so would the school ... Jude’s wanted a program to train Zeroes, didn't they? But I would have cut off my hair for a chance to study with the ancient magicians. They could have told me everything I needed to know.

  The door opened. I looked up, alarmed. If a bunch of upperclassmen wanted to turf us out ...

  Bella stepped into the room. “Cat,” she said, shortly. She held a large sheaf of papers under her arm. “I was told I’d find you here.”

  “Oh,” I said. “Who told you that?”

  “The librarian,” Bella said. She walked over to the table. “And you told me you’d help me with my homework.”

  “As long as you help us with ours,” I said. I gave her a pleasant smile. “Rose needs some practical assistance.”

  Bella frowned. “And you think I can help her?”

  “Yes,” I said. I reached for the papers. “Why don’t you show her how the equations translate to real life while I look at your homework?”

  Bella nodded and motioned for Rose to join her at the worktable. Rose didn't look happy - Bella hadn't been as bad as Alana, yet she’d bullied Rose too - but she followed Bella anyway. I opened the papers and skimmed them. Bella had been trying, I supposed, but it was clear that she’d written the essays in a hurry. Magister Von Rupert would know it, too. It was hard to imagine him handing out detentions and punishment essays with a free hand, but his partner was punitive enough for both of them. Bella would be in deep trouble if she didn't rewrite at least two of the papers before her next class.

  “Each of the equations determine a different variable,” Bella was saying. She sounded marginally surer of herself. “This one determines the amount of power you push into the spell, this one determines the range, this one determines precisely what happens when the spell is triggered. Changing even one of the variables will get you a different result.”

  “Like you need to change the geometric diagrams you’ve drawn out here,” I called, without looking up. “The spellform isn't very stable.”

  “I can balance the spellform,” Bella pointed out, crossly.

  “Not unless you keep your mind on it,” I countered. It wasn't something I’d actually done, of course, but I knew the theory. “You won’t be able to cast a second spell until the first one is completed.”

  Bella made a rude sound. “Seconds, at best. Even you couldn't dodge a spell indefinitely.”

  “It would cost you the chance to get a second spell off,” Rose put in. “Is that why I managed to tag Drina?”

  I nodded. I’d forced Rose to practice casting spell after spell in quick succession, even though it had drained her. My sisters might have gotten far too used to hexing a target that couldn't hex back. I wondered, sourly, if Isabella actually had an advantage over Alana. She would have tried to hex Akin, who was perfectly capable of throwing spells back at her. If nothing else, she’d know how to dodge ...

  “You need to balance the spellform for later,” I said. I drew out a set of pencil lines on her diagram. “You can compensate for poor planning now, I think, but later ... something more advanced will just come apart when you try to cast it.”

  “Hmm,” Bella said.

  I read through the rest of her essays one by one, trying to ignore the moments of envy - even jealousy - when I heard her demonstrating the spell time and time again. I had a talent of my own, didn't I? I had a unique talent. And yet, it was limited. I’d never be casting spells from my fingertips or breathing words that would change the course of entire nations.

  I’ll just be forging the tools, I thought, instead.

  “I think I understand it now,” Rose said, when Bella had finished. “But why do the variables need to be altered?”

  Bella shot me a challenging look. I scowled back.

  “The original spell is designed for a very specific set of circumstances,” I said. We’d gone through something similar before, hadn't we? “You need to understand the theory so you can modify the spell to suit your needs.”

  I took a breath. “For example, transfiguring someone into a frog takes less energy than turning them into a donkey. But you can change the spell so that it does turn someone into a donkey, yet if you do the power requirements suddenly become a great deal higher. If you don’t change those, the spell will either fail or simply not last as long as you might wish.”

  Rose looked blank. “Why does turning someone into a frog take less energy than turning someone into a donkey?”

  I glanced at Bella, who shrugged. I’d never really thought about it. Being turned into a small hopping thing was a hazard of growing up in my family’s hall. It was just part of life. I really hadn't stopped to consider why the power requirements might be different ... it was something to think about, perhaps. I wondered, absently, what Magister Niven would say if I asked him.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. The answer might be somewhere in the theory books. I made a mental note to look when I had a moment. Dad and his tutors hadn't discussed it with me, but that proved nothing. “It just ... does.”

  “Magister Niven would not be happy with that answer,” Bella said. We shared a giggle. It gave me a warm feeling inside. “He’d want you to come up with a better theory.”

  “Perhaps,” I said. “But why ...?”

  I shook my head. I wasn't going to solve that problem overnight. I needed to figure out, first, if anyone else had already solved it.

  Bella cleared her throat. “What did you make of my essays?”

  “You need to rewrite these two, at least,” I said. I passed them over to her. “And I’ve already told you about the diagrams.”

  “Joy,” Bella said. “Thank you, I suppose.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said.

  She left, closing the door firmly behind her. I shared a look with Rose, then went back to my runes. The bell rang, thirty minutes later. I put the book aside for further study and followed Rose out of the library. The rest of the students were checking books out or pleading to be allowed to stay longer. I wondered what they’d do when exam season rolled around. They still had several months before their progre
ss was formally tested.

  Rose shot me a sidelong look as we walked down the corridor. “Are we going to be spending all of our time in the library?”

  I looked back in surprise. There wasn't much else to do, was there? Jude’s grounds weren't that big - and besides, they were dominated by upperclassmen. I’d been cautioned against leaving the school and I wouldn't have left in any case. We were in Water Shallot. Family name or not, it wasn't the kind of place I wanted to explore without an escort.

  I could try and talk an upperclassman into escorting us, I thought. We might be able to go for a walk.

  The thought tempted me for a few moments, before I dismissed it. An upperclassman who took us over the walls would probably be unceremoniously expelled on the spot. Dad wouldn't help her either. He’d be more likely to want the offender hung, drawn and quartered.

  “I don't know,” I said. Netball wasn't my thing - or hers, either. I’d done my best to stay away from social clubs. Even chess could turn nasty if one player was a magician and the other was a zero. “Where do you want to go?”

  “There are parts of the school that I’ve never seen,” Rose said. “We should go exploring.”

  I had to smile. Jude’s was immense. There were entire wings that hadn't been used for decades, secret passages and chambers that hadn’t seen the light of day. We could go exploring, if we wished. I was tempted, even though I had far too much to do. We’d certainly have far less time to explore in the years to come.

  “Why not?” It was a pleasant thought. “We might find the lost treasure of Master Jude.”

  “Or a secret passageway leading out of the school,” Rose said. “How much would that secret be worth?”

  I shrugged. If there was a secret passage like that, I would be very surprised. The staff might turn a blind eye to upperclassmen sneaking over the walls - if they made it through the network of wards and traps - but they’d never tolerate a secret passageway. I wasn't even sure the wards would notice, if there was a passageway. The building was so poorly designed that warding the whole complex had to be an absolute nightmare. A secret passage would just make matters worse.

  “It would be fun,” I said. I didn't think we’d find anything new, but ... it would be fun. And we would learn more about the school. Jude’s had secrets. Perhaps we’d discover some that had been lost long ago. “I ...”

  A flash of light darted up the corridor. Rose let out a yelp, throwing up her hands an instant before she shrank and became a frog. A second spell struck me, only to rebound back in the direction it had come. I heard someone cry out, an instant before she was silenced. But she wasn’t alone.

  Isabella stepped out of the shadows. “Well,” she said. She didn’t look at her friend. I wondered, absently, just who she’d talked into supporting her. “The cheat.”

  I slipped my hand into my pocket. I’d stowed a couple of artefacts there.

  “I didn't cheat,” I said. I felt a flash of cold irritation. She’d demanded satisfaction, not me. “There’s no rule against bringing Objects of Power into a duelling circle.”

  Isabella glared at me. “Only because no one thought it might be necessary!”

  I probably shouldn't have baited her, but ... I couldn't resist.

  “Then they really should have paid more attention in Magister Niven’s class,” I said. The thought made me smile. “They assumed I couldn't bring an Object of Power - let alone more than one - into a circle. How careless of them.”

  “My father is working on changing the rules,” Isabella snapped. “Soon, no one will be able to bring anything into the duelling circle! And then I will challenge you again. And again.”

  I felt my blood run cold. I did my best to hide it.

  “I can't cast spells,” I said. If I had to face her without my earrings, if nothing else, I was doomed. “You know it.”

  “And you shouldn't even be here.” Isabella sneered. Her voice hardened. “You can't even fight fair!”

  Rose croaked. I didn't dare take my eyes off Isabella, let alone draw the dispeller from my pocket and free Rose.

  I forced myself to face her. “You’re a coward, aren't you? You’ll hex someone who can't defend herself, but when she finds a way to fight back it’s unfair ...”

  Her face flushed bright red. “You utter ...”

  An upperclassman walked around the corner. “Fighting in the halls,” she said. Her eyes flickered over us, resting on me for a long moment before she pointed a long finger at Isabella. “Report to the janitorial staff. I’m sure they’ll find work for you to do.”

  Isabella gaped. Her face turned pale. “I ...”

  “Go,” the upperclassman ordered. Her voice was utterly unyielding. “Now.”

  I watched as Isabella turned and scurried off. The older girl hadn't seen the struggle begin, I thought. She hadn't known - she couldn't have known - which of us had started it. And yet, she’d come down hard on Isabella. I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

  “Caitlyn,” the upperclassman said. She snapped her fingers at Rose, who froze. “I would like you to forge something for me.”

  She sounded, I reflected, as though she thought she was the first person to have thought of asking me for a private commission. I wasn’t going to tell her otherwise.

  “I see,” I said, instead. She could at least have turned Rose back before freezing her. But I suspected she wanted this discussion to be private. “What would you like me to forge?”

  The upperclassman beamed. “I want something very simple,” she said. I had the feeling it wasn't going to be remotely simple. “And I will pay very well.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  It turned out, I discovered over the next few days, that quite a few students were having the idea of asking me for a private commission or two.

  Their requests surprised me, although I suppose they probably shouldn't have. Everyone wanted an Object of Power. And yet ... I made a list of requests, then started to plan out how best to meet them. The prospect of dozens of upperclassmen owing me a favour was too tempting to resist.

  “Perhaps you should offer to provide services instead,” Rose said, when I told her about the latest request. A student wanted an Object of Power that would protect him from hexes while playing football. “You could rent out your work and make more money.”

  I touched one of my earrings as I thought about it. It might work. It certainly should work. An Object of Power that wasn't blood-bonded would be less effective than something I’d made for a specific person, but if all they wanted was to cleanse themselves of spells ... it should work. I could give Jeannine or someone like her an hour with a necklace, then reclaim it. They wouldn't pay me so much - and I didn't just want money - but it might be worthwhile.

  But no one is going to give me an open-ended favour merely for an hour with an Object of Power, I thought. They’ll insist on paying in cash or smaller favours.

  “I don’t need money,” I said. “Favours would be more useful.”

  “Maybe for later,” Rose said. “But money would buy you favours, wouldn't it?”

  I shrugged. Objects of Power were priceless - no, they’d been priceless. My father was one of the richest men in the city, yet even he couldn't have bought one of the rarer Objects of Power. He’d have had to practically bankrupt himself to purchase a smaller one. And a family sword - something blood-bonded to a specific line - would be priceless to its owners and worthless to everyone else. Dad wouldn't waste his money purchasing something he couldn't use.

  “It depends on the favour,” I said. “There are some things money just can’t buy.”

  Rose snorted. “Which matters very little to those who struggle to put bread on the table,” she said. She pointed a finger at me. “What will you do when you run out of supplies?”

  She had a point, I admitted as we made our way to the next classroom. Magister Tallyman had said I could draw from his supply cupboards, but that wouldn't last. I doubted I’d ever become an upperclassm
an, even if the staff did rewrite the curriculum for me. It was more likely they’d put me in an independent studies course, once they worked the kinks out of the system, or let me leave school after completing my fifth-year exams. After that ...

  I’ll have to raise prices, I thought. Buying the raw materials to make Objects of Power would be very expensive. And it will be harder to pick and choose my clients.

  I spent the rest of the day mulling over it, feeling a little unsure of myself. I wanted - I needed - a patronage network. And it was good to have students - particularly upperclassmen - paying attention to me. I hadn't had so many people trying to get into my good books since the rumours about my magic - or lack of magic - had started to spread. I wanted Alana and Bella to see their “useless” sister doing well for herself. I owed them for every hex, for every cruel taunt, for every snide remark detailing what would happen to me when my parents died.