The Zero Equation (The Zero Enigma Book 3)

by Christopher Nuttall

  “Go on,” Dad said.

  “A school for Zeroes,” I told him. “A place where they can learn how to use their talents.”

  Dad frowned. “You cannot learn at Jude’s?”

  “No, Dad,” I said. “I can't take half the exams ... and the mere presence of so many magicians makes it harder to forge. Any future Zeroes would be better off having private tuition and training. They’d never quite fit in at Jude’s.”

  “And you might not be entirely welcome there,” Dad said. “Just what did you do, young lady?”

  “Great Aunt Stregheria overpowered the wards,” I said. “For a moment, there must have been a very different spellform in existence.”

  Dad eyed me, suspiciously. He’d never been fooled when I’d lied to him before, when the stakes weren't anything like so high. What I’d told him was plausible - Great Aunt Stregheria might well have been trying to create an anti-magic ward, but only managed to make it work for a few seconds before it collapsed - yet it couldn't account for all of the damage. The sudden loss of magic for hundreds of metres around had caused all sorts of problems. Jude’s was currently closed, the students distributed around the city, while the staff struggled to repair the damage. I had a feeling that large parts of the school would have to be torn down and rebuilt completely. The loss of magic had smashed the ward network beyond repair.

  “And something is very definitely wrong in the wardchamber,” Dad said. “How do you account for that?”

  “She tied an Object of Power into Devices of Power,” I said. “There might have been a long-term effect.”

  “Might,” Dad repeated.

  I fought down the urge to tell him everything and throw myself on his mercy. I couldn't tell him. I didn't dare. If Dad knew the magic field could be drained ... I didn't know what he’d do. Would he want me to wipe my memories? Or build a whole new Whirlpool we could use as a weapon if necessary? It would be better to let the secret die with me, rather than risk the total destruction of civilisation. Even telling Magister Niven - after he’d sworn an oath - was a risk.

  And if someone realises that the effect in the wardchamber is very similar to the effect in the Eternal City, they might put the pieces together, I thought. And who knows what will happen then?

  Dad shook his head, slowly. “You do realise that - right now - you’d be the only pupil at your school?”

  “I can't be unique,” I said, although I did have my doubts. I couldn't be unique, could I? It seemed unlikely, but ... I had no way to know. “We will find others.”

  “And put their talents to work to benefit the city,” Dad said. “And, if we build the school in partnership, it will glue us together even after you turn seventeen.”

  “If they agree,” I said. House Aguirre had taken a beating in the House War. I couldn't imagine House Rubén suffering any less. They might be reluctant to embark on a long-term project when they were trying to patch up the damage from the war. But they wouldn’t want to be excluded either. “You can discuss it as part of the negotiations.”

  “The family council might prefer to keep the only known Zero in our hands,” Dad pointed out. “They might be happier offering Alana or Bella’s hand in marriage.”

  I fought down an odd flicker of jealousy at the mere suggestion. “Neither of them is particularly special,” I pointed out. “And you can't marry one Heir Primus to another unless you’re planning to unite the two families.”

  “No,” Dad agreed. “Offering Alana would lead to trouble. Of course, Carioca may be unseated in the next few days anyway. His family council may think he’s weak. His daughter did betray her family, after all.”

  “And yet he did lead his armsmen back to the school,” I reminded him.

  “So did Alana, who happens to be twelve,” Dad said. There was a hint of pride in his voice, mingled with a grim awareness that he’d done nothing to save his family. I didn't hold it against him - he’d been drugged - but I knew it would haunt him for the rest of his life.”

  “Then Lord Rubén will need something to prove that he’s still a power,” I said, dragging the conversation back to the original subject. “A betrothal that ends the feud might be enough to solidify his position.”

  “That won’t stop him doing everything in his power to make the terms as favourable as possible,” Dad said. “But you’re right.”

  He turned and started to walk towards the entrance. I had to move fast to keep up with his long, loping strides. The grassy lawn behind the outer walls seemed untouched, but the herbal garden had been destroyed. I’d seen Mum crying over the ruined herbs, although I’d been careful to pretend I hadn't seen anything. Great Aunt Stregheria had probably destroyed the garden out of spite. She’d known Mum had enjoyed growing rare plants and herbs from around the world. Dad would have killed her, I think, if she hadn't already been dead.

  And instead, they cremated her and dumped her ashes into the river, I reminded myself as we walked into the hall. There’s no worse way to reject someone completely.

  I looked around as Dad picked up a pair of letters from the table and opened them with a simple spell. A handful of portraits had fallen from the walls, but the hall was otherwise undamaged. The family sword sat in its stone, glowing faintly. I eyed it warily. There was no way I was going to touch it again, after what had nearly happened to Akin. His family sword had nearly turned him into a monster. It made me wonder if the blade had been deliberately lost.

  “Interesting,” Dad said. “Magister Von Rupert and Magister Grayson request the pleasure of your assistance in rebuilding the school’s ward network. Do you want to go back after lunch?”

  I wasn't sure. Magister Von Rupert probably wouldn't ask any questions, but Magister Grayson wouldn’t be content with the official story. He was no fool. He’d probably see enough cracks in the edifice to start questioning everything. And then ... he’d been to the Eternal City too, if I recalled correctly. He might note that the sensations from one place were very similar to the sensations in the wardchamber.

  “You don’t have to go if you don't want to,” Dad told me.

  “I probably should go,” I said. Jude’s would need a new Object of Power ... probably more than one. I could make the network more efficient if I forged a handful of new wardstones, rather than concentrating on a single power source. The designers had never anticipated having to power a whole school. I was surprised the Object of Power had lasted as long as it had. “They’ll need help.”

  “You can go after lunch,” Dad said, as he led the way up the stairs. “You will be heavily escorted, of course.”

  I nodded. There were armsmen everywhere these days, patrolling the walls, sweeping the corridors and marching up and down the garden. It seemed as if Dad was locking the barn door after the horse had bolted, but I understood his paranoia. The City Guard had scattered after the House War had begun in earnest. It would be a very long time before anyone felt safe again.

  We stepped into the dining hall. Mum was already there, sitting next to Alana, Bella and Rose. Dad hadn't quite adopted her - she’d told me he’d offered, but she didn't want to lose contact with her real family - yet she was already one of us. She had a glistening career ahead of her, once she chose a speciality. I had no doubt she’d do well.

  Mum gave me a smile, then motioned for me to sit down. I did so, feeling a twinge of nervousness. Mum had exploded with rage when Great Aunt Stregheria had suggested that she should foster me in Tintagel, perhaps even arranging a decent marriage ... what would she say, I wondered, when Dad told her what I’d proposed? Perhaps I should go into hiding for a few days and give her time to cool down. Mum might accept the logic, but she wouldn't like it.

  “No mocks,” Alana said. “We just got the notification. There won't be any mock exams this year.”

  Dad looked stern. “This won’t become a habit, young lady,” he said. “Next year, you’ll be sitting your mocks with the rest of the class.”

  “And if you don’t pass the exa
ms, you won’t go up a level,” I added. “And if you keep failing, you’ll soon be the only nineteen-year-old firstie.”

  Alana stuck out her tongue. “I’ll pass,” she said. “I’m not worried about the first-year exams.”

  “And everyone will laugh at you if you fail,” Dad said, sharply. He pointed a dark finger at her. “You may be home now, at least until they reopen the school, but you won’t be wasting it. You’ll have private tutoring every morning - you too, Rose.”

  Alana and Bella groaned in unison. “Dad ...”

  “I mean it,” Dad said. Lucy arrived, pushing a trolley of food. “Now, let us eat.”

  I had to smile as we bantered back and forth, Rose joining in shyly. Something untwisted in my heart, something I hadn't known was knotted up ... something that had been knotted up for so long I’d grown used to it. We were a family - a true family - for the very first time ...

  ... And I couldn't have been happier.

  Chapter Forty

  “I hope you’ll let me borrow Miss Aguirre for a while,” Magister Niven said, as he stood on the edge of the new wardchamber. “I have some matters to discuss with her.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief that I hoped neither Magister Von Rupert nor Magister Grayson noticed. Magister Von Rupert had been too fixated on rebuilding the ward network from scratch to ask too many questions, but Magister Grayson had insisted on going through everything that had happened since the first explosion with a fine-toothed comb, making me discuss the fine points time and time again. It was irritating, frustrating ... and worrying. He knew enough to spot my lies, even though I’d worked hard to keep them as limited as possible. I really didn't want him asking questions.

  “As you wish,” Magister Grayson said. “I think we can finish up here.”

  I nodded, stiffly. The new wardchamber was an odd mix of Objects and Devices of Power, the former glowing in the semi-darkness. It had taken two days to recover Anna the Artificer’s notes from Great Aunt Stregheria’s private files, then work our way through them to figure out what she’d done. Anna the Artificer might not have been a Zero, but she’d very definitely been a genius. She’d gone further than anyone else in finding ways to get Objects and Devices of Power to work together. I wished I’d known her while she was alive. She deserved to be remembered outside the family.

  “Coming,” I said, reaching for my coat. The school was cold these days, outside the handful of heated rooms. “Where do you want to go?”

  “I’ve got a new office,” Magister Niven said. “We’ll go there.”

  I followed him through a series of ruined corridors, silently glad that it was too dark for me to see all the damage. I’d seen enough to know that it would be a long time before Jude’s was safe for human occupancy once again. Floors and ceilings had collapsed, water pipes had burst, desks and chairs had exploded into sawdust ... too much magic had been used to repair damage, rather than physically repairing or replacing the damaged sections. A handful of buildings that had been absorbed into the school had actually sunk, as the ground gave way under their weight. It would be a very long time indeed before the school could become a school again.

  “I’ve got hot chocolate,” Magister Niven said. “Would you like a cup?”

  I nodded, rubbing my cold arms. The coat was supposed to be charmed to keep me warm, but - naturally - the charms had failed. Magister Niven’s office, at least, was warmer than the rest of the school. His robes hid everything about him, save for a face that was clearly glamoured. Even I could see the glamour. It was just too artificial to be real.

  He poured me a cup, then sat down on a chair. I sat facing him, looking around the barren room. He’d clearly not bothered to move his books into his new office. I hoped that didn't mean they’d been destroyed. Magister Von Rupert had lost some of his collection when a water pipe burst above his office and showered water onto the manuscripts. Who knew what might have been lost?

  “I assume you did ... something ... to the magic field in the old wardchamber,” Magister Niven said. “It feels like the Eternal City in there.”

  “Yes, sir,” I said. It was hard not to wonder if they wanted me to pay for the damage. I supposed it wasn't impossible - it wasn't as if I couldn't forge Objects of Power people wanted to buy - but it would lead to too many questions. “I was wondering who’d make that connection.”

  “Not many would, unless they had some reason to think the two regions were linked,” Magister Niven told me. He took a sip of his chocolate. “I believe the Castellan plans to bury the entire wardchamber once we’ve carried out a full structural survey.”

  “Good thinking,” I said. I took a long breath. “The magic didn’t go away.”

  “No,” Magister Niven said. He met my eyes. “I did a handful of experiments. The magic field appears to be slightly weaker here, in Jude’s, than it is on the other side of the city. But it isn't that significant, as far as I can tell. I think that we magicians breathe magic in, use it, then breathe it out again. It’s possible that the mere act of storing power changes it in some way, like freezing water, and it returns to normal once released.”

  He shrugged. “Or the overall magic level could be dropping very slowly. I don’t know for sure.”

  “It might even out, like water,” I said. “But it would still be draining ...”

  “Yes,” Magister Niven said. “But the Eternal City had flying buildings that must have drained more magic than any of our spells. They would have run out of magic eventually anyway, wouldn't they? If it was possible to run out of magic ...”

  I cupped my mug in my hands. “That’s what we want to believe,” I said. “Isn't it?”

  “Yes,” Magister Niven said. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?”

  “Apart from you? No,” I said. “It’s my secret.”

  “Take it to your grave,” Magister Niven advised. “If the magic can be dimmed, in a certain place, for a few hours ... the results will be disastrous. And if the magic can actually be taken away permanently ... well, that will also be disastrous.”

  “I know,” I said. I took a sip of chocolate. “It would be used as a weapon, wouldn’t it?”

  “Yes,” Magister Niven said. “Just imagine ... the complete destruction of every spell, every hint of magic, within a Great House. The very building itself might collapse into rubble. Or the sorcerers wouldn't be able to fight back when their home was stormed by strongmen. Just destroying spellcasters and other weapons alone, from a distance, would cripple the defenders. Oh yes, it would be used as a weapon.”

  He looked past me, his eyes vague. “War with magic is horrific, Cat. But war without magic would be far - far - worse.”

  I looked at him. “Have you been to war?”

  His gaze sharpened. “Yes.”

  I thought he was going to say something else, but instead he glanced upwards. “We’re about to have visitors,” he said. “I’ll keep your secret, Cat. You know that. But be careful.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  There was a knock at the door. It opened a moment later, revealing Mum, Dad, Rose and Akin. He looked ... nervous, very nervous. I felt my cheeks heat as I stood, remembering precisely what I’d asked Dad to do. Akin wouldn't be with them if his family hadn't said yes.

  Dad cleared his throat. “Cat,” he said. “They accepted the offer.”

  I met Akin’s eyes. He seemed to be having trouble looking at me.

  Magister Niven lifted his eyebrows. “Should I loan you the office for a few hours?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Dad said. “Cat, I believe you and Akin have much to talk about.”

  “Yes, Dad,” I said. My heart was beating like a drum. “Akin, shall we go onto the grounds?”

  “Take Rose with you,” Mum said, sternly. “You’re not allowed to be alone together any longer.”

  I looked at her, saw the uncompromising glint in her eye and nodded hastily. Dad had been right. My life was not going to be the same, at least as long as Akin
and I were betrothed. Mum might be more understanding than most of the grand dames, but she wouldn't let us embarrass our families. I sighed inwardly, then led the way to the nearest exit. Neither Rose nor Akin seemed to have much to say.

  “Akin,” I said, once we were outside. The soldiers had trampled most of the garden when they’d been sweeping for runaway students. It would take years to recover. “I ...”

  I swallowed, hard. This was embarrassing! I didn't know what to say. He seemed to have the same problem. Rose ... was looking at both of us, shaking her head. She had to wonder why I’d proposed a betrothal while advising her to reject something similar. But my family was in a better position to fight if we wanted to break it off.