The Zero Equation

by Christopher Nuttall

  Akin laughed. “I don’t think you’ll get very far,” he said. “She hates you for embarrassing her.”

  “I know,” I said. Perhaps I should have reached out to her, after I’d beaten her in a duel. It might have made things easier. But it might also have made things worse. Isabella had fallen right to the bottom of the dorm room hierarchy. Even now, despite her cronies, she wasn't on top any longer. I wasn’t sure who was at the top. “But I can try.”

  “Good luck,” Akin said. “But don’t blame me when it goes wrong.”

  “I won't,” I said, as I reached for one of the books. We’d put our homework off for far too long. “Now ... what was wrong with Tumble’s work?”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  “Sandy is sleeping in one of the other dorms tonight,” Amber Alidade announced, as Rose and I walked into the dorm. “Apparently, they’re worse behaved than us.”

  “The very thought,” I said. “They must be very bad.”

  “So we were thinking about a midnight feast,” Gayle Fitzwilliam added. “Are you in?”

  I hesitated. The last time we'd had a midnight feast, it hadn't ended well. Rose and I had gone to collect the food, but someone had ratted us out to the upperclassmen. I’d suspected Isabella, but - in hindsight - I had my doubts. Isabella had been riding high, queen of the dorm. She wouldn't have risked that just to get us both in trouble.

  Rose cleared her throat. “I thought we weren't allowed to leave the dorm after dark these days.”

  “Ah, but that’s the beauty of it,” Gayle said. “They’ll never suspect it.”

  I looked from one to the other. If most of our dormmates wanted a midnight feast, Rose and I would gain nothing by pointing out the dangers. The upperclassmen normally turned a blind eye to midnight feasts in the dorms, but now ... getting caught might lead to more trouble than a few hundred lines or so. I wasn't sure I wanted to be involved.

  “They’ll be looking for magicians,” Amber said. “They won’t be looking for you.”

  “Ah,” I said. I struck a deliberately contemplative pose. “You expect me to sneak downstairs and fill a bag with food, right?”

  “You can evade their traps,” Gayle said. “And you can carry more than anyone else.”

  “Really,” I said. I looked at Isabella. She was sitting on her bed, head bowed as she brushed her golden hair. I could tell she was only pretending not to listen. Amber and Gayle weren't being very quiet, after all. “One condition, then. Isabella comes with me.”

  Isabella looked up. “After what you said the last time?”

  I bit down on the sharp reply that came to mind. “This time, it will be different,” I said. I wasn't sure about that, but it would provide an excuse to talk to Isabella alone. “I went down last time too. You come with me, or someone else can go.”

  “Come on, Isabella,” Gayle said. “It’ll be fun!”

  Isabella’s face reddened. She knew she had no choice, not if she wanted to be accepted by anyone other than her cronies. Better to be a good sport about it than refuse to go. I wondered, idly, if she’d insist on going alone. It would probably end badly, if she did. The charms on the kitchen and storeroom doors might, in normal times, provide the sort of challenge the Castellan and his staff approved of, but now ... now there’d be charms well above the average lowerclassman’s ability to break. Isabella would probably wind up entranced until the morning, whereupon she’d be given lines or put in the stocks or ...

  “Fine,” Isabella said. She hadn't stopped brushing her hair. “I’ll go with Cat.”

  Rose nudged me as we stepped into the bathroom. “Are you sure you want to go with her?”

  “She can't tattle on me this time,” I said. “And besides, I’ll have a chance to talk to her.”

  “Be careful,” Rose advised. “She’s sulking.”

  We showered, changed into our nightgowns and waited - impatiently - for eleven o’clock. I’d been told that all of the tutors and upperclassmen, save for the handful on patrol, were expected to be in bed by that hour. I lay in my bed, listening to the clock ticking as it marked the hours and wondering, grimly, if Isabella and I would get down the stairs before we started shouting at each other. We’d been rivals right from the start. My lips twitched. Isabella had probably thought she was picking on someone who couldn't fight back. Now, she was locked in a rivalry with someone who was unique - and far more important than she was. It had to be more than a little frustrating.

  Isabella stood as soon as the clock chimed the hour. “Coming?”

  I nodded as I pulled my blazer over my nightgown, then donned my spectacles. Isabella was suddenly illuminated in light, each glow representing a protective hex. It was a surprisingly large number of protective hexes, I thought. Some of them were too advanced for a firstie, even one who’d grown up in a Great House. I wondered, as I led the way towards the door, who’d been helping Isabella protect herself. Dad had taught me that there was always a risk inherent in putting your defences in someone else’s hands.

  But then, all the protective charms he tried to give me wore off very quickly, I recalled. They just wouldn't stick to me.

  The corridor outside was dark and cold. I looked both ways, watching the magic flickering through the wooden walls. The wards looked frayed, hardly up to the job of watching for hostile magic, let alone stopping anyone stupid enough to use the dark arts in the school. I gritted my teeth as I realised the wards really didn't have long to last. One good push would probably be enough to bring most of the network down.

  Isabella poked my arm. “Is it safe to sneak down to the stairs?”

  “Yeah,” I said. There didn't seem to be any warning hexes. “Let’s move.”

  We slipped past two other dorms as we made our way to the stairwell. There should have been at least one upperclassman on duty, but we saw no sign of him. I listened, carefully, at the top of the stairs, hoping to catch wind of anyone lurking below us, just out of sight. But there was nothing. Even the ticking of the grandfather clock someone had placed at the top of the stairs seemed oddly muted.

  “We need to move quickly,” I muttered. “But watch for traps.”

  Isabella made a rude sound, terrifyingly loud in the silent air. I froze and listened carefully before slowly starting to slip downstairs. It had dawned on me, emotionally as well as intellectually, that I wasn't engaging in an old school tradition. Getting caught out of bed now would be very bad. The only consolation was that Isabella would be in trouble right beside me.

  The stairwell looked odd through my spectacles. Light flickered and flared as magic passed through the wards, but it wasn't very illuminating. My head started to pound as we reached the bottom of the stairs, reminding me that I simply hadn't had anything like enough sleep. I kicked myself, mentally, for allowing myself to be pushed into staying awake. It wouldn't have killed me to pull the drapes shut and sleep until morning. Gayle and Amber could have gone themselves, if they wished. It would hardly be my fault if they got caught.

  A ward shimmered in front of us at the very bottom of the stairs. I studied it for a long moment, picked out the weak point and tapped it with the dispeller. Isabella sucked in her breath as the ward snapped out of existence. That hadn’t been part of the school’s ward network, I thought. Someone had clearly moved to prevent lowerclassmen from sneaking around the school after dark.

  “Are we alone?” Isabella sounded quieter now, as if she’d realised - too - just how foolish we were being. “Or ... is someone waiting for us?”

  I shrugged. I couldn't hear anything, but that meant nothing. I was hardly the only child who’d learnt to sneak around the house while she was growing up. And even the loudest boy could cast a spell to muffle his footsteps. There might be a pair of upperclassmen bearing down on us even now. I wanted to turn and go straight back to the dorm, but ...

  “Hurry,” I said, as we moved down the corridor. “We really don’t want to be caught.”

  “You mean, like you were caught last
time?” Isabella moved past me, her face half-hidden in the gloom. “It wasn't my fault.”

  “I don’t think so, now,” I said. I might as well concede the point, although ... I wasn't sure. I’d probably never be sure. “Look ... can we talk?”

  Isabella looked at me, then down the darkened corridor. “Here?”

  “We should be safe, as long as we keep our voices down,” I told her. “But cast a privacy ward if it makes you feel any better.”

  “I’ll take your word for it,” Isabella said. “What?”

  I found myself suddenly at a loss for words. What should I say to her? Dad had once told me that it was merely a case of finding the right words, but ... what were the right words? We’d definitely gotten off on the wrong foot. Isabella had been a little brat, but she also had plenty of reason - now - to hold a grudge.

  “I’m sorry I accused you,” I said. “I was angry and hurting and I had no proof.”

  “Oh, dear,” Isabella said, sarcastically. “And if I hex you because I’m angry and hurting ... will that make it alright?”

  “No,” I said, truthfully. I had crossed a line, even if I didn't want to admit it. Hexing Isabella was one thing. No one would have thought much of it if Isabella and I spent all seven years hexing each other on sight. But accusing her of tattling ... there weren't many worse things I could do to her. “And I’m sorry.”

  “Hah,” Isabella said.

  I stopped and looked at her. “I’m willing to call a truce, if you are,” I said. “We don’t have to spend the next seven years fighting like cats and dogs.”

  Isabella’s eyes narrowed. “I bet you think that’s clever. I bet you think you can talk down to me because you’re so special, so ... valuable.”

  She leaned forward, almost pushing me into the wall. “Your house and mine are at war,” she hissed. “When it is over, when we emerge victorious, you will be mine. You will not be my adopted sister or cousin or a natural-born girl. You will be property. My property.”

  I pushed her back, gently. “And what happens if we win the war?”

  Isabella glared. “You’ll lose,” she said. “Do you know what happened this afternoon?”

  “Alana was attacked,” I said. “Was that your fault?”

  It was hard to be sure, in the gloom, but I was sure I saw a flicker of surprise cross Isabella’s face. Was it her fault? She was powerful enough to order older students to attack a younger student and cruel enough to do it. And yet, she had been surprised. It might have been someone else’s idea right from the start. Isabella might not even have been told about it in advance.

  “No,” Isabella said. She leaned forward. My back pressed against the wall. “Your mansion was turned to rubble.”

  I shook my head. “You lie.”

  Isabella smirked. “My family sneaked an attack through your wards,” she said. “I’m surprised you didn't hear about it before we went to bed.”

  “... No,” I said, stunned.

  My mind raced. Was it true? Could it be true? Dad had placed layer after layer of protective enchantments on the hall, designed to repel everything from simple blasting hexes to Objects of Power. I found it hard to believe that someone, even House Rubén, could have snuck a spell through the wards. And yet, there was something in her manner that told me she wasn’t lying.

  Isabella’s smirk widened. “Enjoy the next few years,” she said. “After that, you will be ours.”

  “You haven’t won yet,” I said, defiantly. “The war isn't over until ...”

  “There won’t be a single adult of your family left alive by the end of the war,” Isabella said, nastily. “Perhaps I’ll turn you into a maid.”

  “Or perhaps I’ll do worse to you,” I snapped. I thought about the contents of the box, now safely hidden under Rose’s bed. My sisters and I could do a great deal of damage before we were brought down. Maybe, just maybe, I could find a way to break through House Rubén’s wards and extract a terrible revenge. I’d forged a wardcracker for Fairuza already. “I beat you in a duel.”

  “You cheated,” Isabella said.

  “There’s no rule against using Objects of Power to win,” I said.

  Isabella opened her mouth, then stopped herself with an effort. “What will happen to you, I wonder, if someone takes all your little trinkets away?”

  Nothing good, I thought.

  “You’ll be powerless,” Isabella told me. “Won’t you?”

  I glared, trying to think of something - anything - I could say that would discomfit her as much as she’d shaken me. “I won’t be yours, whatever happens.”

  Isabella lifted a single, elegant eyebrow. “Oh?”

  “I’m too useful,” I reminded her. “Your father will put me to work forging Objects of Power, not following your slightest whims. And even if I wasn’t useful, your father would hardly put you in charge of distributing the spoils of war. You’re not the Heir Primus.”

  Her face reddened. “I should be!”

  “But you’re not,” I taunted. It was a low blow, but I was too far gone to care. “And do you know why? It’s not because you’re a girl. It’s because you’re too stupid to recognise an opportunity when it’s right in front of you!”

  Isabella recoiled, as if I’d slapped her. One hand rose in a casting pose. “You dare?”

  “Yeah.” I touched the earring, gently. “I dare.”

  A hex flashed from her fingertips and struck me, breaking apart into a shower of multicoloured light. I saw her face twist with fury and braced myself, half-expecting her to throw a punch instead of another hex. A moment later, we heard running footsteps heading right towards us. Isabella and I froze, staring at each other, then - as one - we turned and ran down the corridor. The footsteps kept growing louder.

  “Stop,” a voice snapped. “Now!”

  I swallowed a word I wasn't supposed to know. The voice was male, too old to be an upperclassman. I didn't recognise it, which meant ... there were a handful of teachers who only taught upperclassmen. Was it one of them? Or had the Castellan brought in help from the outside? Either way, we didn't want to get caught. An upperclassman could give us lines or detention, neither of which would be pleasant, but a teacher could give us a great deal worse.

  “This is your fault,” I hissed as I ran. “If you hadn't cast that spell ...”

  “Shut up and run,” Isabella growled.

  I bent my head and ran, trying to think of a way to get back to the dorm without being headed off. The footsteps were coming closer, echoing down the corridor ... there could easily be someone ahead of us, just waiting for us to show ourselves. Or ... the teacher chasing us could cast a freeze hex as soon as he caught a glimpse of us, catching Isabella easily. The hex wouldn't get through my protections, but ... if that happened, only a complete idiot would hesitate to point a finger at me. Isabella wouldn't need to tattle. They’d know who to punish.

  “I can hex the floor,” Isabella gasped. She wasn't used to running so quickly. “An icy spell ...”

  “Don’t be an idiot,” I gasped back. “If we attack a teacher and get caught” - I fought for breath - “we’ll be expelled.”

  Isabella coughed. “What do you want to do? Stop and take our medicine?”

  I forced myself to think. We could go up the nearest stairwell, using the dispeller to break through any guarding wards. But that would reveal my identity as surely as if I’d been caught by one of the patrolling teachers. Or we could keep running around until we returned to the original staircase, but they might have already assigned someone to make sure no one could use the staircase before they replaced the ward. Or ...

  “I have an idea,” I muttered. I reached out and caught Isabella’s hand. “This way.”

  She grunted in pain as I yanked her towards the nearest stairwell. A ward, invisible to the naked eye, shimmered in front of me. I reached for my bracelet and held it, gingerly, as I pushed against the ward. If it was the same design as the last one, it should let us through without
snapping. But if it wasn't ... Isabella hissed in pain as magic cascaded over her, but didn't try to let go of my hand. I breathed a sigh of relief as we both fell through the ward and scrambled up the stairs. Moments later, the footsteps echoed past us - below - and onwards into the darkness.

  The ward is still there, I thought, as I let go of Isabella’s hand. He didn't realise that we managed to get through without snapping it.

  I wanted to sit down and rest, but I knew better. So did Isabella. We stared at each other for a long moment, then scrambled to our feet and hurried up the stairs. The dorms were still silent, although I knew that wouldn't last. The teachers would do a bed check sooner or later, probably sooner. I hoped they wouldn't pay too much attention to the ward I’d snapped on the way downstairs.