The Family Shame

by Christopher Nuttall

  “I only just arrived,” I told him. I didn’t want to tell him the complete truth either. “Uncle Ira is … accommodating … me.”

  Callam blinked. “Uncle Ira? The Big Man?”

  I shrugged. “Probably. Why … why are you exploring the grounds?”

  “They’re fun,” Callam said. “Don’t you think so?”

  “They have their moments,” I said, unwilling to admit that I found them alternatively boring or terrifying. I wouldn’t have minded them so much if I’d had a companion. “Why did you come all the way here?”

  Callam looked down. He was definitely a commoner, then. I rarely needed to ask an aristocrat to get a complete breakdown of his or her family tree, their status and everything else I might need to decide if I should treat them as potential friends, clients or enemies. In hindsight, if I’d treated Cat as a friend, who knew what would have happened? But commoners rarely talked about their lives. It was unusual, even, for them to be able to provide a family tree stretching back five generations, the minimum required to marry into the aristocracy. Rose and her ilk were going to have problems when they became adults, I thought. I doubted she knew anything about her grandparents.

  “I don’t fit in,” he mumbled. “There’s nothing for me to do at Kirkhaven.”

  The town, I thought. Was everything in the valley called Kirkhaven? And why doesn’t he fit in there?

  I lifted an eyebrow and waited. Callam looked back at me for a long moment, then sagged.

  “My father is the local teacher,” he said. “I don’t fit in with the other kids.”

  “Ouch,” I said. I’d known a couple of kids myself who had tutors for parents. Their parents had gone out of their way to make it clear that they weren’t being favoured, to the point of coming down harder on their own children for minor misbehaviour than any of the other kids. It hadn’t been enough to keep their children from being unpopular. “And so, you come up here?”

  “No one else dares,” Callam told me. He smiled. His face lit up. “I’m the only one who dares.”

  I had to laugh. “I’m glad you did,” I said. He might be a commoner, but at least he wasn’t twenty years older than me. “How did you get over the wall?”

  “Magic,” Callam said, and winked.

  “I can do magic too,” I pointed out. “I caught you, didn’t I?”

  “Yep,” Callam said. He looked down at his feet. “Are you going to let me go?”

  “Yeah,” I said. I didn’t think he was dangerous. And besides, I wasn’t in the mood to do either Morag or Uncle Ira any favours. “You can cancel the spell at any time.”

  A shadow crossed Callam’s face. “I don’t have any talent for magic.”

  “Anyone can cancel the spell,” I told him. Even commoners knew a handful of spells. They might not start learning early enough to make magic second nature to them, but they could still cast the spells. “Just do it.”

  Callam made a series of gestures, then stopped. His feet remained firmly fixed to the cobblestones. I rolled my eyes in irritation. His gestures were far from precise and he wasn’t even mumbling the right words … I could have gotten away with it, perhaps, because I had power to burn, but a commoner with hardly any practice needed to be precise. Father would have been furious if I’d been so careless. I’d probably have wound up being grounded until I managed to write an essay explaining precisely why it was so important.

  “You’re not doing it right,” I snapped. I couldn’t help thinking of Akin, when we’d been taught to ride. It had been blindingly obvious that my twin hadn’t wanted to learn and he’d only put up with it because Father had promised him a new set of forging tools. “You have to be more precise …”

  The spell broke. Callam stumbled forward, his legs buckling. He caught himself before he could fall and leaned against the wall, massaging his legs roughly. I didn’t think the spell had lasted long enough to cause cramps, but I could have been wrong. He seemed to be having trouble walking as we headed out into the courtyard. I wondered if his attempts to cancel the spell had only made matters worse.

  It might have done, I thought. Callam didn’t seem to have the sort of power where a careless gesture could cause a disaster, but I could be wrong about that. Rose had plenty of power, without the training she needed to keep it under control. Maybe I’ll have to teach him some magic.

  I had to smile at the thought. I’d never really considered teaching anyone how to do magic - I kicked myself, mentally, for not trying to mentor Rose while I’d had the chance - but it might be useful. Who knew? Callam might make a great client. And his father was a teacher … that meant he’d have connections. It wasn’t quite the sort of patronage network I’d wanted, a year ago, but it would have to do. I felt a surge of enthusiasm that surprised me in its intensity. Perhaps there was something for me here after all.

  “You’re a very impressive magician,” Callam said, softly. “I didn’t know I could be caught like that.”

  “Thank you,” I said. I wasn’t sure how much praise from him was worth, but I took it anyway. “It’s a very simple spell. You could learn it.”

  Callam shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “You could try,” I insisted. Uncle Ira had told me to study potions and charms, but he hadn’t said anything about defensive magic. Odd, particularly given that he’d insisted that the land outside the grounds was dangerous. Perhaps I could practice with Callam. “It took me several tries to cast my first spell.”

  “… Maybe,” Callam said. He shot me a smile. “Do you want to see my treehouse?”

  I blinked, then nodded. “Why not?”

  Callam led me on a long walk around the edge of the grounds, circumventing the hall at a distance that puzzled me until I realised he didn’t want to be seen. Morag and Uncle Ira wouldn’t care if I spent all my time on the grounds, but they’d certainly want to ask Callam quite a few questions if they saw him wandering around. Uncle Ira would have every right to demand answers, then turn Callam into something nasty if the answers failed to satisfy. I quietly resolved to do everything in my power to make sure they never knew he was there. It simply didn’t feel like he was a threat.

  “I was never quite sure who planted the trees here,” Callam said, as we entered another section of the forest. “They grow … oddly.”

  “There’s raw magic in the air,” I said. The gloom was deepening as we picked our way across oddly bumpy ground. I could see warped and twisted trees everywhere, as well as hints that the forest had overgrown some stone buildings that had collapsed into ruins long ago. “Can’t you feel it?”

  Callam shook his head as we walked down an embankment and crossed a small stream. It was small enough for me to jump over, but someone had chopped down a tree and turned it into a makeshift bridge. I eyed Callam for a long moment as he picked his way across the water, wondering if he had made the bridge. He was clearly at least as muscular as Akin, perhaps more so. A commoner would be more used to grunt work than a forger.

  “There,” Callam said, once we were across the bridge. “What do you think?”

  I had to fight to keep from giggling. The treehouse was really nothing more than a wooden box, hanging suspended above the ground. There was barely any room for one person my size, let alone two. It was nowhere near as elaborate as the treehouse back home, the one that had been built by the groundskeeper and his staff … no door, no window, no charmed ladder that threw intruders off if they tried to climb up without permission. And yet, Callam had built it all by himself. My eyes traced out the combination of nails and ropes holding the treehouse - and ladder - in place. There wasn’t even a speck of magic keeping it safe.

  “You really built it?” I knew I couldn’t have built it. Akin might have been able to do it, if he hadn’t been more interested in forging than woodwork. “This is all your own work?”

  “Yeah,” Callam said. “Good, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I said. And I meant it. “It’s remarkable.”


  I walked around the treehouse for a long moment as Callam scrambled up the ladder. I’d expected the near-constant rainfall to make sure the wood rotted very quickly, but he’d treated it with something that ensured the rain didn’t do any damage. I hesitated, then followed him up into the treehouse. The structure felt weak as I sat on the wooden floorboards, but I didn’t think it would break under our weight.

  Callam grinned at me. I couldn’t help noticing that he was missing a tooth. “Why did you get sent up here?”

  “It’s a long story,” I said. If I’d been wrong to assume that everyone knew who I was … I didn’t want to tell him. Callam was the first person I’d seen who was remotely close to my age. If he knew the truth, what would he do? Run a mile? “Uncle Ira just agreed to foster me for a few years.”

  “You get to live in the Big House,” Callam said. “And you get to play in the grounds.”

  I’m not a little girl, I thought, although I took his meaning. He’d clearly enjoyed building the treehouse, even if it was miles from Kirkhaven Town. Perhaps I could find enjoyment too in the grounds, when I wasn’t studying magic. Who knows what we can do together?

  “It’s something,” I said, vaguely. Callam didn’t have the background to understand that being sent out here, with or without a formal fostering arrangement, wasn’t exactly a good thing. The local gentry might be important, locally, but they weren’t anything like as well-connected as the Great Houses. “I get bored a lot.”

  Callam smiled at me. “Do you want to meet again?”

  I nodded, too quickly. “When do you come? I mean …”

  My voice trailed away as it dawned on me that I had no way to contact him. I couldn’t send a letter to town, not without alerting Uncle Ira that I’d found a friend. Uncle Ira might not care, but Morag certainly would. The children of the Great Houses were not meant to play with commoners! I could easily imagine her having some pretty sharp words for me if she realised I’d found a friend.

  “I normally come Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays,” Callam said. “But … where should I meet you?”

  I hesitated, trying to think of a solution. It wouldn’t be hard to charm something he could use to alert me when he was on the grounds, although I’d have to be careful to make sure that neither Morag nor Uncle Ira got a good look at it. A resonance charm would probably be simplest, not least because it wouldn’t trigger the wards. I’d have to renew the charms regularly, but … I thought I could make it work.

  Akin wouldn’t have any trouble at all, I thought, ruefully. And nor would Cat.

  “Meet me in the stables on Thursday afternoon,” I said. “Around two o’clock. I’ll have a more permanent solution by then.”

  Callam nodded. “Good idea,” he said. He grinned. “What do you want to do now?”

  I looked at the sun. It looked to be around ten o’clock. “I don’t have to be back for lunch for a couple of hours,” I told him. “What would you like to do?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I couldn’t help myself. I was grinning from ear to ear as I walked back to the hall, even though I knew I probably shouldn’t look too cheerful. Mother had always been suspicious when any of the children had been in a good mood and I rather suspected Morag felt the same way too. But I didn’t see any sign of her as I entered the hall, hurried to my room to change out of my muddy trousers and then walked back down to the dining room. Uncle Ira was already there, sipping his soup.

  “We have to talk afterwards,” he informed me, as I sat down. “Don’t go anywhere.”

  I frowned, inwardly, as Morag put a plate of chicken stew and rice in front of me. Did Ira know about Callam? Or … did he have something else in mind? I ate the stew slowly, hoping to delay the discussion as long as possible. Uncle Ira didn’t seem in any hurry, thankfully. I hoped that meant I wasn’t in trouble.

  “Come with me,” Uncle Ira ordered, when he was finished. “Leave your food for later.”

  I looked wistfully at the pudding - Morag was a great cook, whatever else could be said about her - and followed Uncle Ira down the corridor. I’d expected him to lead me to his office, but instead he marched me into a smaller workroom. It was empty, save for a single wooden table placed against the far wall. There were enough books - modern books - on the table to satisfy anyone. I started to run forward, only to have him catch my arm in a vice-like grip. I yelped in pain.

  “Careful,” he snapped. He jabbed his free hand at the floor. “Do you want to die?”

  I sucked in my breath, sharply. I’d barely seen the patterns on the wooden flooring and I hadn’t taken any real notice of them. But they were clearly designed for a ritual … I hadn’t seen anything like them since the family healers had inspected me before I was sent to school. I felt my face redden as I picked out some of the more complex etchings someone had carved into the floor. Uncle Ira was right. Running across the diagrams might have ended with me being seriously injured - or killed.

  “Thank you,” I muttered. At least he cared enough to save my life. “I …”

  “Walk around the diagrams,” Uncle Ira said, cutting me off. “And tell me if those are the right books.”

  I nodded and did as I was told. The books were modern, strikingly so. They looked to have been freshly printed. The impression at the back of the books told me they’d been printed in Shallot, probably for Jude’s. Uncle Ira had bought enough potion books, I thought, to take me all the way to my first set of exams … if I had a hope of actually sitting them. I might be able to get a degree through the correspondence course, but it wouldn’t be quite the same.

  “They look right,” I said. I checked the rest of the titles, quickly. Charms, forging … nothing on defence. It wasn’t the only exclusion, but it was the most striking. I already knew a great deal of history and I didn’t need more etiquette lessons, yet I did need to be able to defend myself. Uncle Ira himself had said the world outside the gates was dangerous. “Why isn’t there anything on defence?”

  “There are quite a few books on defence in the library,” Uncle Ira said, shortly. His tone warned me not to press any further. “And besides, you won’t be going outside the grounds.”

  I lowered my eyes to conceal my irritation. I would go outside the grounds, one day. If Callam could come and go as he pleased, I could too. Unless, of course, the wards were specifically keyed to keep me inside. If they were … I considered it for a long moment, remembering some of the Devices of Power I’d learnt to make. I might be able to find a way to trick the wards into thinking I was someone else with a little work. It wouldn’t be easy, but it could be done.

  Uncle Ira cleared his throat. “Am I boring you, young lady?”

  I flushed, realising that I’d tuned him out. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t listening.”

  “I had noticed,” Uncle Ira told me. His voice was hard enough to make me flinch. Seniors disliked it when they caught you not paying attention to them. “As I was saying, I’ll expect you to work your way through these books - and a handful of assignments I will give you - now that the new ingredients have also arrived. I trust you will become a proficient brewer before too long.”

  “Yes, Uncle,” I said.

  “I will also expect you to actually think about what you’re doing,” Uncle Ira added. “If you wish a potions mastery, you will need to demonstrate that you actually understand the subject.”

  I met his eyes. “Do I have any hope of actually getting a master to take me on?”

  “I am a master,” Uncle Ira said. “And if you do well, I’ll be happy to take you as an apprentice.”

  “… Oh,” I said. I was surprised - it was rare for someone to be apprenticed to a family member - but it wasn’t as if anyone else would be interested in me. “In potions?”

  “And charms,” Uncle Ira said. “I actually did a dual apprenticeship myself, back when I was a few years older than you. It took longer than it should have done, because I was studying two separate disciplines, but it was worth it. I
actually … well, I’ll tell you about that later.”

  I was impressed, despite myself. A dual apprenticeship was unusual, although someone Uncle Ira’s age could easily have undergone two apprenticeships in succession. Mother had talked about getting a second apprenticeship herself, now that Akin and I were old enough to go to boarding school. She could certainly look forward to having plenty of time to earn the mastery and put it to use. But doing two apprenticeships at once was very rare.

  “I’ll think about it,” I mumbled. I didn’t really have a passion for potions, not like Akin had for forging. Charms maybe, although I’d really been more obsessed with building up a patronage network than studying magic for the sake of studying magic. “Would you be able to vouch for me?”

  “I could certainly give you a certificate,” Uncle Ira said. He tapped the pile of books. “I trust these are satisfactory?”

  “Yes, Uncle,” I said. I surprised myself by giving him a hug. “Thank you!”

  “You are welcome,” Ira said, as I disengaged myself. He nodded to the etchings carved on the floor. “And if you would now please stand in the exact centre …?”

  I frowned. “Why …?”

  “I have to check your health,” Uncle Ira said, curtly. His voice didn’t give me any room to argue. “Please, stand in the centre.”

  “Yes, Uncle,” I said, carefully picking my way over the lines. My magic flickered as I crossed the innermost line, reacting badly to the power flaring around me. “Why do we need to be sure of my health …?”

  “If I’m going to teach you a few more interesting tricks, I need to be sure you can handle them,” Uncle Ira told me. He knelt down and tapped the edge of the etchings. I felt the magic growing stronger, pressing against me. “Your father was rather vague about just how powerful and practiced you were.”

  “You saw me cast spells,” I protested. I hadn’t liked the last medical check-up I’d been given and this felt worse. “Isn’t that enough?”

  “No,” Uncle Ira said. “Here we go …”

  I gritted my teeth as the etchings flared to life, blue sparks dancing around the diagram and slowly reaching out to me. The magic flared, touching me … going through me. Invisible needles jabbed into my skin, so sharply that I screamed in pain. The world darkened, then lightened, then darkened again … I thought, just for a second, that I had blacked out completely. My head started to pound uncomfortably, my emotions blazing out of control: one moment, I was angry enough to put a knife through him; the next, I was so sad that I couldn’t keep tears dripping down my cheeks. I was suddenly very aware of every last inch of my body, from my hair to my toes; I could feel my bones, my blood, my magic …