Rose nudged me. “Can't you work that into the spellform?”
“I don’t know,” I muttered back. “But he’s right.”
“Glad to hear it,” Magister Niven said. The class tittered. “So ... how do the swords really work?”
“Perhaps we should see who can and who can't wield the swords,” Henrietta Maria suggested. “And then we might get an idea of what the sword deems family.”
“A good idea,” Magister Niven said. “And not one that any family will tolerate.”
He cleared his throat. “Now, I want you to form small groups and discuss the implications of bloodlines and blood-bound Objects of Power. And I want you to see if you can determine how the swords work.”
I looked at Rose, then Akin. “This is all my fault,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“It was my fault too,” Akin said. We huddled together in a small group. “If I’d known ...”
“It’s okay,” I said. “But if your great-grandfather lost the sword, and you’re only an eighth of him, how can you use the blade? And why can't others use the blade?”
“Good question,” Akin said. “Did anyone touch the blade, before me, who might have been closer to the original bloodline?”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “But your family is an offshoot of an offshoot.”
“True,” Akin said. “I may have family I don’t know.”
“Maybe the blade accepts a new bloodline - a changed bloodline - every time a wielder has children,” Rose said. She didn't sound particularly interested. “It isn’t having one-tenth or one-hundredth of the founder’s blood that makes the blade work. It’s having one-half or one-fourth of the current wielder’s blood.”
“That might be true,” I mused. I could use the family sword, but what about my distant cousins? Or even Great Aunt Stregheria? Could she use the sword? She was related to my father - and her father would have been a wielder in his time - but she was on the wrong side of the family. “But it would have to be one-eighth to account for Akin.”
“You should see if your father can use the blade,” Rose suggested. “And if he can’t ...”
The discussion slowly started to grow interesting as we discussed potential ways to test the theory. Dad wouldn't let me experiment with the Family Sword - and he’d probably forbid me to experiment with the sword I’d repaired - but I could forge a new blade, given time. Or maybe talk Magister Tallyman into letting me repair a second blade, if we could figure out just who’d owned it originally. I didn't want to get into trouble with a second family.
Magister Niven cleared his throat, an hour later. “I want each of you to write an essay on blood-bonded magics and how they work,” he said. “I expect you to analyse it from as many different viewpoints as possible, not just the standard ones. Argue for and against each point you make. I’ll be grading on clarity of argument as well as accuracy.”
He looked at the clock. “Cat, remain behind. Everyone else, dismissed.”
“Hard luck,” Akin said, as he stood. “You do seem to keep getting detentions in this class.”
“Isabella is lucky she didn't get a detention,” I said. It didn't sound like I was getting one either. “Why is she always so rude?”
“She thinks she can get away with it,” Akin said. “And she’s usually right.”
“We’ll wait for you outside,” Rose added.
I stood and leaned against the wall as the classroom emptied. We had Protective and Defensive Magic afterwards, but it was largely a practical class and I was generally excused anyway. Isabella and Alana, in a rare moment of agreement, had protested that it was unfair that I didn't have to attend, only to be shot down by Magistra Solana. There was nothing to be gained by me attending the class. If I had time to think and forge all the tools I needed, I was unbeatable; if I didn't, I was helpless.
“Quite an interesting turn of events,” Magister Niven said. I wished he would remove the hood. It was hard to be sure it was even the same teacher every time. “Tensions have been rising for quite some time, of course, but ... no one could have predicted the sword.”
“No,” I agreed. “Was it a mistake to repair it?”
“Everyone makes mistakes,” Magister Niven said, flatly. “Even I have been known to make a mess of things from time to time. It’s how you recover from your mistakes that counts.”
He shrugged, I thought. It was hard to tell. “But this could be the spark that starts the blaze.”
I tried to meet his eyes. “What do you mean?”
“We’ve got quite a few simmering feuds in the city,” Magister Niven reminded me. “House Bolingbroke hates House McDonald because a marriage was broken off at the last possible minute, House Kathrin has a long-running disagreement with House Volos over land in South Shallot, House Alidade blames House Wong for shipping losses during the original missions to Hangchow ... House Rubén resents House Aguirre’s prominence and seeks to rise above it.”
“The Bolingbroke match was two hundred years ago,” I protested.
“And they still haven't gotten over it,” Magister Niven reminded me. “The tensions have been rising steeply, recently. Your kidnapping almost triggered off a war because your father blamed House Rubén for the kidnapping. If Lord Rubén hadn't offered an oath ... there might not have been a city for you to come back to.”
I shook my head. “Is there any way to stop it?”
“There isn't a single person alive - these days - who was around when Katie Morag MacDonald jilted Edmund Bolingbroke at the altar,” Magister Niven said. “And yet, the families still hate each other. I’m surprised your dormmates aren’t tearing each other apart.”
“Perhaps they’re too smart,” I said.
“Or perhaps they know better than to pick a fight in Jude’s,” Magister Niven said. “And yet, you were kidnapped from school. All of a sudden, the safety of this place--” he waved a gloved hand at the walls “--has been called into question. And this is, very much, the worst possible time.”
“Ouch,” I said. I’d have to write to Dad. No doubt he’d tell me to be careful. “Do you have any advice?”
“House Wars are nasty,” Magister Niven said. “Do you know how House Rubén managed to crush House Caldecott?”
I shook my head. We’d never really been encouraged to study the various house wars. I assumed Dad and his armsmen had studied them carefully, but we were too young to know more than the basics.
“They convinced four other houses to join the war,” Magister Niven told me. “Caldecott was outnumbered right from the start. No one believed they stood a chance, so the remainder of the Great Houses stood aside and watched the carnage. Even their allies did nothing ... they made all sorts of excuses, afterwards, but the truth was that they believed there was nothing to be gained by honouring their word. House Caldecott, once master of the city, went down in flames.”
And House Aguirre could do the same, I thought. I shivered, helplessly. If this lawsuit serves as a wedge between us and our allies, it would give them the excuse they need to stand aside and watch us burn.
“I’ll write you an excuse note for your next class,” Magister Niven said. He produced a notepad from somewhere and scribbled down a handful of lines. “And I hope we’ll have a chance to discuss your visit to the Eternal City later.”
My blood ran cold. That was the last thing I wanted to discuss. Magister Niven was perhaps the only teacher in the school who’d realise that there were gaps in my story, if he made me sit down and go through it time and time again. And he was the only one imaginative enough to guess at the truth. And then ...
“Thank you, sir,” I said. I’d have to find a way to get out of it. Somehow. Until then ... I changed the subject. “Do you think we’ll have a House War?”
“The city has been quietly destabilising for years,” Magister Niven said. His voice was emotionless. “I think there may be no way to prevent a conflagration.”
Chapter Thirteen
Dad didn't
reply to my first letter, written out in great detail and then passed to the Castellan for secure delivery. He didn't reply to my second letter either, then sent a very terse reply to my third ... just as I was starting to worry about what might be happening on the far side of the walls. I’d hoped for something long and detailed, but all he said was to remind me to take care of myself and stay out of trouble. He didn’t even ask after Bella.
He’ll know she recovered, I told myself. Bella didn't look to be any the worse for wear, but it was clear she’d been shaken. He came to see me after I was nearly killed myself.
Bella wasn't the only person to be shaken. I’d hoped that people would stop talking about the sword - and the lawsuit - but I’d been disappointed. Everyone seemed to have an opinion about the sword, ranging from students who insisted that the blade should be returned to its original owners at once to others who thought the chain of ownership had snapped and so it should remain with us. I did my best to stay out of the debates, which were taking on an increasingly nasty tone, as the week slowly ground to an end. But staying out of sight completely wasn't an option.
“They’ve all gone mad,” Rose said, on Friday night. “How can a simple sword cause so much trouble?”
I had to admit she had a point. Students who were related to my family’s clients - and thus de facto clients themselves - were gathering together and exchanging nasty looks with Rubén clients. I didn’t think that either Isabella or Akin were encouraging it, but they were only firsties. The older students seemed prepared to start a fight at any moment, to the point that the tension in the air was so thick one could cut it with a knife. I was afraid to cough for fear that someone might take it as a sign to start something violent. It was almost a relief when the weekend rolled around and the upperclassmen decamped en masse for the city.
There was a pile of broadsheets on the table when we came down for breakfast on Sunday, papers from all over the city. I glanced at the lead articles and sighed in frustration. The original lawsuit had been bad enough, but this was worse. The Great Houses were wheeling and dealing, trying to demand concessions and future promises from Aguirre and Rubén in exchange for their support - or, at least, their neutrality. They’d probably work hard to make sure that any contracts weren't magically binding either, just in case they had to switch sides in a hurry. And still others were trying to take advantage of the lawsuit to raise issues of their own.
“I don’t believe it,” I said, after I read an allegation that my mother had stolen a potions recipe from Akin’s grandmother. Everyone who knew anything about House Rubén knew that Akin’s grandmother had been a duelling mistress. She wouldn't have any recipes worth stealing. “Do people really believe this ... this junk?”
“It looks that way,” Rose said. She looked up. “Is anyone coming down for breakfast?”
I shrugged. The dining room was practically deserted. It was traditional for students to come down later on weekends, but it was odd to see the hall so empty. There were only two students, both upperclassmen who were clearly preparing for their mocks. They had books open in front of them as they ate their breakfasts, flipping the pages at a speed that suggested they’d taken something to improve their memories. I hoped the librarian didn't catch them or they’d be in detention for the rest of their lives. That was one memory they probably wouldn't want to keep.
“Let’s be glad of it,” I said, as I took a tray of bacon and eggs. “It won’t be long before everyone comes down and starts stuffing their faces.”
I ate my food slowly, watching as a handful of latecomers entered the hall. They looked wary, their hands in casting positions even as they collected trays of their own. A couple of them were decked out in protective amulets, all Devices of Power. They could be overpowered, if they faced a powerful magician, but they’d provide enough protection to give the wearers a chance to strike back.
Rose nudged me. “You could make a lot of money making protective charms.”
I shook my head. I’d learnt my lesson about that.
Akin entered, looking as though he hadn't slept a wink. He stumbled over to the hatch and picked up a tray, then walked over to join us. I was uneasily aware of too many eyes following him, their owners probably wondering why a Rubén and an Aguirre were sitting down together. By now, if some of the nastier rumours were to be believed, our families were at daggers drawn. It wouldn't be long before they started fighting.
“You should go back to bed,” Rose told him, as he sat down. “Didn't you sleep last night?”
“Too many idiots trying to pledge their services in exchange for future favours,” Akin said, rubbing his eyes. “Don’t they know I’m not going to be heir for a very long time?”
“I imagine they think it’s never too early,” I said, dryly. I didn't want to think about Dad’s reaction if he found out I’d been recruiting clients for the family. A network of people who owed me favours was about the most I could do until I came of age. “What did you tell them?”
“Nothing I can repeat in public,” Akin said. “Isabella, on the other hand ...”
I frowned. Isabella hadn't said anything to me directly, but it was clear that she’d been having hushed conversations with our dormmates - and strangers, who she’d brought into the dorms. It wasn't the best place to have a secret conversation, but I rather suspected she wanted me to know she’d been having conversations. My paranoia would do the rest. She knew she couldn't hex me - now - but a handful of students could physically overpower me, if they wished.
And then hex me, after they steal all my amulets, I thought. I was going to have to do something about that, somehow. There were tricks that could be used to stop people touching me, but they weren't easy to control. Rose might find herself thrown halfway across the room if she tapped my shoulder for attention. What is she planning?
I eyed Akin, wondering if he knew. He hadn't precisely come out and said he’d told his petitioners to go away, had he? His father wouldn’t be pleased if he had. The children of the Great Houses were taught to form networks of patronage and obligation practically from birth. Akin had always been more interested in forging Devices of Power than personal relationships, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to do it. His position as presumptive heir would help him to overcome any missteps he made along the way.
And I can't ask him either, I thought, grimly. It wouldn't be fair.
“We should go exploring,” Rose said, after we’d finished our breakfasts. “Or maybe go up to the roof.”
“Good idea,” Akin said. “It’ll take us away from ... everything.”
I would have preferred to spend some time forging, but I seemed to be outvoted. We went back to the dorms long enough to change into our old clothes, then walked through the school until we reached one of the half-forgotten entrances. It was just like I remembered, right down to our footsteps in layers upon layers of dust. I covered my mouth as Akin cast a pair of light-spells, allowing us to pick our way through the abandoned section. It was so quiet that our footsteps seemed ominously loud.
“We should have brought water,” Rose complained, an hour later. “Or something to wash our faces ...”
“Poor planning,” Akin agreed. He shone his light into an abandoned classroom. Someone had drawn a rude diagram on the blackboard and flipped up the desk lids to allow the dust to slip into the drawers, but otherwise the chamber hadn't been touched for years. “Maybe we should set up a clubhouse down here.”
“Where no one could find us,” Rose said. The inhabited sections of Jude’s were hard enough to navigate, but the abandoned sections were a nightmare. If we hadn't been leaving trails in the dust, I would have been seriously worried about our ability to find our way out. “What if we were to bring ...”
I tensed. “Quiet!”
Rose gave me an odd look. Behind us, Akin raised his hand in a casting pose. I tilted my head from side to side, listening carefully. I’d learnt to trust my instincts over the years, even though I lacked the magical
sensitivity that everyone else took for granted. Something had alerted me, but what? I listened carefully, yet ... all I could hear was the beating of my heart.
“I don’t know,” I said, slowly. I looked down the dusty corridor, but saw nothing. There were plenty of invisibility spells, but someone making his way through the dust would have been easy to spot. We’d have seen their footsteps. “Just ... be careful.”
“Good idea,” Akin said.
He inched forward and made his way down the corridor. Rose followed him, leaving me to bring up the rear. A second later, my protective bracelet turned red-hot. I screamed in pain, throwing myself backwards as my skin began to blister. I hit the ground hard enough to hurt, dust billowing up around me. The bracelet cooled rapidly, my skin healing as the medical charm took effect ... I rolled over and stood, kicking up the dust as I looked for my friends. They were gone ...
The Zero Equation (The Zero Enigma Book 3) Page 13
