(The Zero Enigma Book 6) The Family Pride

by Christopher Nuttall

  And you still don’t, I reminded myself, as I reached the top floor. Father is always one step ahead of everyone.

  My heart began to thump uncomfortably as I made my way down the corridor. I’d only just got home for the holidays. Father normally gave me a few hours to recover and change into something more comfortable before he summoned me. Now ... I wondered, grimly, what I’d done. What did Father know? The fight with Francis? The story behind the fight with Francis? Or Penny? Or that I’d been writing to Isabella, planning a meeting? If he chose to be angry, or if the council forced him to be angry ...

  I swallowed, hard. Isabella was my sister. I had every right to communicate with her. And if the family council thought otherwise ... I didn’t care. Isabella and I had been close, once upon a time. I wanted to be close again, to know there was at least one person in the mansion I could rely on. And yet ... I knew what Isabella had done. She could have brought the entire family crashing down.

  The door swung open, silently. I stepped inside. My father was sitting behind his desk, looking grim. I shuddered, inwardly, as I schooled my face into a mask. The last time Father had looked like that, I’d been in real trouble. And yet ... this time, I had the odd feeling he wasn’t angry at me. Who had angered him? Isabella? Uncle Davys? Or ... who?

  “Akin,” Father said. “How are you coping with the Challenge?”

  “The team is training hard,” I said, carefully. I didn’t want to say too much. If he didn’t know about Francis, I wasn’t going to rat my cousin out. “We’re hampered by ... by not knowing what we’re actually training for.”

  “Yes.” Father’s voice was distant, as if he hadn’t really heard what I’d said. “That’s always the way.”

  I took a gamble. “Father ... what was your Challenge?”

  Father looked angry, angry and ... some emotion I couldn’t identify. “It went spectacularly wrong,” he said, curtly. “And I’m not allowed to talk about it.”

  “If I knew, it could give me a clue ...” I started. “Father ...”

  “I believe that’s the point,” Father said. “And I’m still not allowed to talk about it.”

  He met my eyes. “And how is being Head Boy?”

  “Busy.” I wondered if I should ask him about Penny. “Father ... can I ask for some advice?”

  My father surprised me by laughing. “When I was your age, my father knew nothing. The old man was so ignorant that it was just ... embarrassing. By the time I turned twenty-five ... by the Ancients! It was astonishing how smart the old man had become.”

  I blinked. “Father?”

  Father smiled. “Ask for advice, if you trust me to give it to you.”

  “There’s a ... a dorm monitor who’s bullying his charges,” I said, carefully. “What should I do about him?”

  “Never an easy question,” Father said. I couldn’t tell if he knew who I was really talking about or not. “Back in my day, of course, it was a lot easier.”

  I shuddered. I’d made the mistake of telling my older relatives, once, that I was excited about going to school. The horror stories they’d told had given me nightmares, although ... Uncle Malachi had pointed out, rather dryly, that no one would have survived such treatment long enough to graduate. Cold showers, bad food, beatings every day and twice on Sundays ... it sounded awful. Things had apparently improved since my father had graduated.

  Father met my eyes. “You can rebuke him in private or you can deal with him publicly,” he said. “In private, you will spare his pride ... but, at the same time, you may accidentally convince him that it isn’t that serious. In public, you will humiliate him. You may feel he deserves it. Maybe he does. But he will be humiliated and angry and that will drive him to find a way to strike back at you.”

  “Yes, Father,” I said. In hindsight, it had definitely been a mistake to humiliate Penny in front of Kate. It wouldn’t have been hard to drag her into a classroom. “I see.”

  “And you have to solve the problem fast,” Father added. “If someone realises you knew - and did nothing - that will come back to haunt you, believe me.”

  “Yes, Father,” I said.

  “You’ll be going to the fair tomorrow for a week.” Father changed the subject with astonishing speed. “We’ve already booked rooms for you and Rose. You’ll be seeing Cat there ... remember, you will be chaperoned. Her mother will be there too.”

  And Isabella, I thought. Do you know Isabella will be there?

  If he did, Father said nothing. “I expect you to behave yourself,” he warned. “We cannot afford a scandal. Not now.”

  “No,” I agreed.

  Father shrugged, dismissively. “Piglet wants a word with you,” he added. “You can find him in the library.”

  I blinked. “Piglet?”

  “Malachi.” Father turned his attention back to his paperwork. “He wants to talk to you too.”

  “Yes, Father.” I turned to leave, then stopped myself. “Do you ...”

  I shook my head and hurried out of the room. I didn’t want to ask him what he knew. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to tell him. Instead, I practically ran down the corridor and threw myself down the stairs. Rose and I were going to set out early, tomorrow morning. I intended to have a good night’s sleep, in my own bed, before we left.

  And we’ll be riding for hours before we arrive, I reminded myself. The sooner Cat rediscovers teleport gates, the better.

  The library was empty, save for Uncle Malachi, when I arrived. He sat in a comfortable chair, reading a newspaper. The front page had a picture of someone I vaguely recognised, someone who was famous for being famous. Isabella would have known who she was, right off the bat. Louise, on the other hand, had probably never heard of her.

  Uncle Malachi folded his newspaper. “Akin.”

  “Uncle,” I said. I dropped into the chair next to him. “What can I do for you?”

  “You’re a third of the way through your final year,” Uncle Malachi said. “How are you finding it?”

  “... Tricky,” I said. “One moment, everything is fine; the next, I’m drowning in quicksand.”

  Uncle Malachi smiled. “There are spells for that, you know.”

  “I can’t go around casting spells on everyone,” I pointed out. “Wherever I go, whatever I do, I think there’s an unsolvable problem in front of me.”

  “Welcome to adulthood.” Uncle Malachi chuckled. “It doesn’t get any better.”

  “Really?” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know that. “There are no lives of ease and pleasure?”

  Uncle Malachi shrugged. “Perhaps. You could fritter away your inheritance, if you wished. Spend the whole thing on wine, women and song. But you wouldn’t have much left afterwards.”

  “I suppose not,” I said.

  “Or you might be dependent on someone else,” Uncle Malachi added. He tapped his newspaper. “Lady Felicity is in the papers again, making a beautiful fool of herself. It won’t be long before her father cuts her off or marries her off to someone who can take her in hand, someone who will ... point is, she’s dependent on her father. She isn’t in control of her own life.”

  “Maybe that’s why she acts out,” I mused. Even I had heard of Lady Felicity. “You’re saying you can either be in control or give up control?”

  “Quite,” Uncle Malachi said. “She has quite a lot in common with Francis, doesn’t she?”

  I blinked, feeling cold. “Francis came to you, did he?”

  “I like to give advice.” Uncle Malachi shrugged. “It makes me feel useful.”

  “Oh.” I was tempted to press for details - there was no reason why Uncle Malachi should feel useless - but I didn’t have time. “What did he tell you?”

  “That you kicked him off the team.” Uncle Malachi met my eyes. “And he told me why.”

  “Did he?” I didn’t think Uncle Malachi would lie to me, but ... Francis could have easily lied to him. “What did he say?”

  “That you caught him making out with Lin
dsey of House Arthur,” Uncle Malachi said, flatly. “Or is the truth even worse?”

  “That’s the truth.” I was surprised. “He actually told you?”

  “I had to cajole him a little,” Uncle Malachi said. “He came to my townhouse, a couple of weeks ago. We ... chatted.”

  I let out a long breath. “Do you understand ... do you understand how bad it could have been, if Lord Richard found out? Or if Lindsey’s family found out?”

  “Yes.” Uncle Malachi looked at me, evenly. “And I also remember just what it was like to be a teenage boy, simply rancid with hormones.”

  “Really.” I found it hard to believe. It was easier to think that Uncle Malachi - and his peers - had all popped into existence as adults. Cold logic told me they’d been children, once upon a time; emotion told me it was impossible. “What were you like as a boy?”

  “A truly terrible person,” Uncle Malachi said, dryly. “I put my foot in it so many times. But I remember what it was like.”

  “So, Francis told you the truth.” I stood and started to pace. “Do you understand just how ... how irresponsible he was?”

  “And you have never done anything stupid?” Uncle Malachi’s gaze followed me as I paced the room. “Anything that might have led to disaster?”

  I remembered the feel of Ayesha’s lips against mine and shuddered. If things had been different ...

  “Maybe.” I shrugged. “What does this have to do with the price of tea in Hangchow?”

  “Francis is a young man with few prospects,” Uncle Malachi said, flatly. “He is permanently caught between the demands of his station and the limitations his station imposes on him. He wants to play sports professionally, not ... work for the family or do anything we might consider socially acceptable. And he rebels against social convention because social convention is constantly pushing him down. It never works in his favour.”

  “Really, now.” I met his eyes. “And if he’d been caught” - Francis didn’t know who’d tipped me off, I recalled - “social convention would have destroyed him.”

  “A self-destructive impulse is not uncommon amongst young men in his position,” Uncle Malachi said. “If they cannot win, they will often try to lose as spectacularly as possible.”

  “I weep for him,” I said, sarcastically. Yes, I could see - and understand - Francis’s frustrations. “That doesn’t justify betraying the family.”

  Uncle Malachi lifted an eyebrow. “Did he betray the family?”

  “He would have done so, if he’d been caught.” I turned away, angrily. “It would have been disastrous.”

  “Maybe. You don’t know that.” Uncle Malachi shrugged, expressively. “For all you know, Lindsey and Lord Richard have no real intention to get married. There’s five years between them. They’re pushing the legal limits as it is.”

  I nodded. There weren’t many laws covering betrothals, but one of them insisted that there could be no more than seven years between the partners. Even that was iffy. Custom decreed that the partners should be far closer in age, like Cat and I. Our birthdays were only four months apart. Yes, it was possible that Lindsey and Lord Richard’s betrothal was a legal fiction. But ...

  “Uncle ...” I swallowed and started again. “Please ... get to the point.”

  “Francis deeply regrets what he did,” Uncle Malachi said. “And he regrets the effect it had on you - and your team. He would like to rejoin, but he’s too prideful to ask you directly.”

  “Hah,” I muttered, although I knew he had a point. Francis would sooner swallow poison than his pride. “And why should I take him back?”

  “Everyone makes mistakes.” Uncle Malachi’s voice was suddenly serious. “Yes, they do. It’s astonishing how easy it is to back yourself into a corner, claiming all the while that you’re not doing anything of the sort. If you refuse to take him back, Francis will only grow more bitter, more set in his ways. If you refuse to offer him the prospect of redemption, you will leave him with nothing but damnation. And that can be disastrous. A person who feels he has nothing to lose can be very dangerous.”

  “Francis has a lot to lose,” I pointed out, tartly.

  “Less than you might think,” Uncle Malachi said. He leaned back in his armchair. “He’s not the Heir Primus, is he? He doesn’t stand to inherit much of anything, does he?”

  “No,” I conceded.

  “So you have a choice,” Uncle Malachi said. “You can leave him to sulk, to wallow in his bitterness until it curdles and he does something really dangerous. Or you can accept that he was an idiot, accept his promise to do better and ... take him back, giving him the chance to recover from his mistake. He’ll thank you for it.”

  I stared at my hands. “It wasn’t a minor mistake.”

  “Maybe not,” Uncle Malachi agreed. “You’re right. It could have had disastrous consequences. But it didn’t. And all he can think about, right now, is that you’re punishing him for consequences that didn’t materialise.”

  “Really.” I wasn’t sure I believed him. “Francis thinks I’m punishing him?”

  “Yes,” Uncle Malachi said.

  I didn’t look up. I had to admit - privately, if nowhere else - that none of the bad consequences had materialised. Lord Richard hadn’t appeared at the school, screaming and shouting and demanding revenge; Lindsey, as far as I could tell, had behaved herself. And Alana had kept the truth to herself too. But there would be a price to pay, I was sure, for her silence. Francis had put me, deliberately or not, in a very sticky situation.

  And yet, I could see Uncle Malachi’s point. Did Francis deserve to spend the rest of his life paying for a mistake? A stupid mistake, but one that hadn’t had any real consequences? I didn’t know. What would my father say, if he knew? I wished I could ask, but I couldn’t. It would tell my father far too much. And he’d have to take official notice of whatever I told him.

  And how many problems will he cause me, later on, I asked myself, if I let matters rest where they are?

  “I’m off to the fair tomorrow,” I said, bluntly. “You can tell him that I’ll give him a second chance, if he behaves himself. Yes, he can have his chance. And if he misbehaves ... there will be no third chance. I won’t ever trust him again.”

  And when I’m Patriarch, I added silently, he can go kick balls around for a living somewhere on the other side of the world.

  Uncle Malachi nodded. “I will inform him,” he said. “But the two of you should have a talk ...”

  “No,” I said. I didn’t want to talk to Francis, not yet. It could wait until I’d calmed down - and written to the others to tell them that Francis was going to be rejoining us. “You can tell him.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “This is amazing,” Rose breathed, as the open-topped carriage crested the hilltop and drove down into Riverside. “I never dreamed ...”

  I glanced at her. “Surely, you’ve been to fairs before ... haven’t you?”

  “Not like this,” Rose said. “This is ...”

  Her voice trailed off. I smiled at her, then turned my attention back to the town. The fields surrounding Riverside were crammed with pavilions, tents and open-air stalls, each one flying flags to show who owned them and what they sold. I spotted House Aguirre’s pavilion and smiled, suddenly consumed with the desire to order the driver to stop right next to it so I could run inside. Cat would be there, with her mother ... I could go to her. I pushed the thought aside, angrily, as the driver headed on towards our townhouse. All the Great Houses had establishments in Riverside, although they pretended otherwise. It was the kind of place they could pretend to be normal, just for a while.

  I sat back in my chair and forced myself to take a deep breath. I’d be seeing Cat in the evening, but first ... I glanced at Rose, silently grateful she’d been so understanding. If she’d decided to cause trouble, it would have made my life so much harder. I’d probably have to pay a price for that too ... I shook my head, rebuking myself. Rose hadn’t grown up amongst t
he Great Houses. She didn’t feel the urge to demand repayment for her help, freely given. I almost envied her.

  The carriage rattled to a halt outside the townhouse, a modest three-story building on the edge of town. Father had said we’d be alone there ... for a given value of alone. The servants didn’t count, clearly. I snorted at the thought as we clambered out of the carriage, the driver silently levitating our trunks to the ground and sending them up towards the waiting staff. I would have bet half my trust fund that one or more or the servants were quietly keeping an eye on us for Father. He wouldn’t take the risk of leaving us genuinely alone.

  As if we couldn’t look after ourselves, I thought, as we were shown to our rooms. It isn’t as if we couldn’t cook - or go out to eat.