Date: 2018-02-10T18:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Fantasy; Young Adult
Description: Caitlyn Aguirre is no magician ... ... But she’s still at the centre of the storm. Caitlyn and her friends have returned to Jude’s Sorcerous Academy, but all is not well in the school. The Great Houses of Shallot are on the verge of going to war and the conflict is spilling into the school, while - in the background - powerful and secretive forces prepare to finally reveal their plans to reshape the world. Caught in the middle, torn between her family and her friends - and burdened with a secret she dares not share - Cat must unlock the secret of the Zero Equation ... ... Or watch helplessly a
Publisher: CreateSpace Publishing

The Zero Equation

(The Zero Enigma, Book III)

Christopher G. Nuttall

http://www.chrishanger.net
http://chrishanger.wordpress.com/
http://www.facebook.com/ChristopherGNuttall

Cover by Brad Fraunfelter

www.BFillustration.com

All Comments and Reviews Welcome!

Cover Blurb for TZE

Caitlyn Aguirre is no magician ...

... But she’s still at the centre of the storm.

Caitlyn and her friends have returned to Jude’s Sorcerous Academy, but all is not well in the school.  The Great Houses of Shallot are on the verge of going to war and the conflict is spilling into the school, while - in the background - powerful and secretive forces prepare to finally reveal their plans to reshape the world.  Caught in the middle, torn between her family and her friends - and burdened with a secret she dares not share - Cat must unlock the secret of the Zero Equation ...

... Or watch helplessly as her family, friends and school are destroyed by war.

Author’s Note

If you liked this book, please review it.  It helps promote the entire series.

Prologue I

I was nine when I touched the Family Sword for the first time.

It wasn't something I was supposed to do.  My parents had made it clear to us that my sisters and I were not supposed to enter the Great Hall without an escort, let alone touch one of our family’s most priceless heirlooms.  But ... well, I suppose I should start at the beginning.

My sisters and I had been studying magic for two years.  We were home-schooled, of course; we weren't sent to primary school for another year.  My family’s tutors saw to it that we were fed a diet of magical theory, ancient languages, magical runes and, of course, practical studies.  My sisters had moved ahead in leaps and bounds, while I ... I had yet to cast a single spell.  I could see the disappointment on my father’s face, even though he tried to hide it; I could see the scorn and contempt on my sisters’ faces when they realised I lacked any spark of magic.  My potions were perfectly brewed, my runic diagrams and magical calculations were perfectly drawn ...

... And it didn't matter.  I couldn't perform even the simplest spell.

One cold winter evening, I stumbled out of the schoolroom feeling as though my head was on fire.  It had been a long session, with a doddering old great-great-uncle for a tutor ... he wasn't a bad sort, not really, but he had a habit of addressing us by names that belonged to our older relatives.  And he’d made me draw out a basic diagram again and again, as if simple repetition would finally lead to magic flowing out of my fingers and into the design.  My head hurt, my fingers hurt ... all I wanted was to catch an hour or two of sleep before dinner.  I could hear my sisters and cousins playing in the snow outside as I reached the top of the stairs, the sound mocking me.  They were animating snowmen and using them to have snowball fights, but ... what could I do?  There was no way I could join them.  The best I could hope for was being turned into a snowman myself.

I was alone.  It hurt, more than I cared to admit.

The sound behind me caught me by surprise.  I started to duck, too late.  The spell slammed into my back and my entire body froze.  I was utterly unable to move, unable to save myself as I tumbled over and over, falling down the stairs.  My body crashed into the banisters, the sound echoing though the stairwell as an unseen force pushed me further and further down.  I caught a glimpse of Alana standing above me, posing dramatically on the top of the stairs.  Her dark face was alight with glee.

I prayed to all the ancestors that her spell wouldn't snap until I reached the bottom, praying with a desperation I rarely felt.  The freeze spell saved me from feeling any pain, but if it gave out while I was still falling I’d crash straight into the banisters and that would do real damage.  My body kept flipping over and over - Alana must have combined her hex with a locomotion spell - until I crashed into the Great Hall and rolled over the marble floor.  I hit the statue of Aguirre Primus and stopped dead, looking up at the stone face.  My distant ancestor’s statue seemed to be glowering down at me in disapproval.  How could one of his bloodline be so weak?

The spell held me firmly, keeping me still as Alana inched her way down the stairs.  I could hear her footsteps tap-tapping on the stone, pausing every so often to make sure no one was coming.  Alana might be the favoured of the family, the one deemed most likely to succeed my father as Aguirre Matriarch, but even she would be in trouble if she was caught in the Great Hall.  Dad would be angry, and Mum would be furious.  The Great Hall was for impressing guests, not a play-area for little girls.  I tensed inwardly as I heard her walking over towards me, bracing myself for another cruel hex - or worse.  And then she leaned over and glared at me.

“You are pathetic,” she said, nastily.  A faint mark on her dark cheek glimmered with an unearthly light.  She’d had a potions accident and the remnants of the brew had yet to wear off.  It wasn't dangerous, but it made her look silly.  “You can't even cancel a simple spell.”

I wanted to snap out a response, but I couldn't move a muscle.  She was right.  I knew she was right.  The freeze spell we’d been taught was among the simplest of hexes, the easiest to cast - and to cancel, if you knew how to focus your magic.  I’d watched from the upper levels as the extended family romped around in the snow, freezing each other with complete abandon.  And I’d wanted to join them, even though I knew I couldn't ...

Alana leaned forward, as if she had something important to share.  “You want to know a secret?  You’re not our sister.”

I had to fight to stay calm.  I wanted to scream.  It was hard to believe, sometimes, that I could really be the daughter of Joaquin and Sofia Aguirre.  My parents were amongst the most powerful magicians in the kingdom, perhaps even the world.  But I didn't have any magic at all.

“Dad just wanted to claim he had triplets,” Alana added, in a sweet tone that didn't fool me for a second.  “He took a foundling girl and ...”

The spell snapped.  I started upwards, too late.  Alana leapt back with commendable speed, one hand raised and ready to cast a spell.  She knew better than to be within arm’s reach.  Forging had made me strong for my age.  I wanted to lunge at her, to break her nose for the second time, but ... she’d get me before I managed to strike.  I dreaded the thought of what she’d be like after she went to school.  She was quite bad enough now, with only a handful of spells at her disposal.

“I look like Dad,” I said.  It was true.  My face was solidly feminine, but I looked more like my father than my mother.  “I ...”

“There are glamours that can change a person permanently,” Alana reminded me.  “Given time, they soak into the skin.”

I bunched my fists, feeling hot tears prickling at the corner of my eyes.  She was lying.  She had to be lying.  And yet, there was a quiet nagging doubt at the back of my mind.  What if ... what if she wasn't?  A foundling girl would be defenceless.  She’d have no family to come to her aid.  No one would care if someone took her into their family and wrapped her in a glamour ... no one would question her bloodline, if she was formally adopted.  My father could have done that to me ...

“That’s why you have no magic,” Alana said.  She tried to sound regretful and failed utterly.  “You’re not one of us.”

I tried to think, even though I wanted to cry.  What if ... what if ... a thought struck me and I turned, looking for the Family Sword.  It was embedded in a stone anvil, the visible part of the blade glowing faintly with a pearly white light.  My father’s family had owned the sword since we’d joined the Thousand-Year Empire.  We - those who shared a bloodline that dated back nearly two thousand years - were the only ones who could lift it.

“I’ll show you,” I said.

I heard her gasp as I walked towards the glowing sword, half-expecting to run into a protective spell.  Dad would be furious if he knew I’d touched the blade.  I’d be grounded for life or sent to bed without supper or ... maybe he’d take one of Great Aunt Stregheria’s particularly unpleasant child-rearing suggestions.  Her children didn't exist and I still felt sorry for them.  No magic snapped at me as I clambered onto the anvil, no ward held me in place while summoning the master of the house; I wrapped my dark fingers around the hilt and pulled.  It came out of the stone easily.

Alana gasped a word that Mum would have washed her mouth out with soap merely for thinking, let alone saying.  I almost echoed her.  The sword was huge, taller than I, yet I had no trouble holding it upright.  It felt as light as a feather.  The blade glowed brightly in my hands.  I jumped down, holding the sword upright.  It seemed to hum as I waved it through the air.

“You’re going to be in big trouble,” Alana said.

She jabbed a finger at me, casting a spell.  A brilliant hex flashed through the air ... and exploded harmlessly against the blade.  The sword had moved in my hands, cutting the spell out of the air.  I could feel it twisting, readying itself to deflect another spell.  A trickle of unease ran through me as my body shifted, not entirely as I wished.  The sword seemed to be controlling me, not the other way around.  It felt as if it was going to slash out at Alana ... no matter what I wanted.  I was no longer in control.

Alana took a step backwards, fear flickering over her face.  “I think you should put the sword back,” she managed, her voice quivering.  “Cat ...”

My legs moved forward of their own accord.  The sword hummed louder, pulling me onwards.  I tried desperately to let go, but my fingers seemed to be sinking into the hilt ... it felt as though the sword was becoming part of me.  The horror stories I’d been told about the dangers of Objects of Power suddenly felt terrifyingly real.  I’d made a horrific mistake.

“Stop,” Dad’s voice said.  He was behind me.  The sword froze in my hands.  “Put the blade down.”

I obeyed.  The sword no longer felt like it was a part of me.  Its light dimmed the moment I let go of the hilt.  And then I swung around and hugged my father, desperately.  I knew he was going to be angry, I knew I was going to be punished, but ... I wanted to hold him.  I wanted to know it was going to be alright.  I wanted ...

“That was unwise,” Dad said, lifting me into his arms.  “You’re nowhere near ready to touch the sword.”

“But I could touch the sword,” I said, plaintively.  Alana had been wrong.  I was my father’s daughter.  “I’m one of the family.  Right?”

“Oh, Caitlyn,” Dad said.  He held me tightly.  I heard a faint choke in his voice.  “Was that ever in doubt?”

I couldn't answer.  Not then.  But we both knew the truth.

Prologue II

The night I returned to the school, after the kidnapping and our escape, I dreamed of the dragons.

Not the nasty beasts that inhabit the Desolation, the dull creatures we hunt for potions and alchemical supplies, but the Great Drakes of legend.  Giant golden creatures, wings shining in the sun as they flew.  I dreamed I flew beside them, sharing the ancient wisdom in their eyes.  I knew I was dreaming.  And yet, it felt so real.

I could see more than just dragons.  I could see castles built of clouds and giant floating cities, so large that they plunged the land below into permanent darkness.  I could see huge buildings reaching up to the skies, great machines glowing with power as they transformed the land.  I could see giants and genies and sprites and elementals and so many other legendary creatures; I could see magicians, flying through the air as if they were light as birds.  Wizards walked through the clouds, taking their ease; witches rode on brooms, laughing as they soared above the clouds.

And I could see the magic.

I’d often dreamed of having magic - and then awakened to stare down at my powerless fingers - but this was different.  The magic pulsed like a living thing, wrapping the entire world in its embrace.  Colourless light seemed to shimmer around me - around everyone, giving them power.  It looked as if it would last forever ...

And then it was gone.

The genies and elementals winked out, as if someone had blown out a candle.  They were gone before I quite realised what had happened.  And then everyone - everything - was falling.  The cloud-buildings dissolved into mist, their occupants falling to the ground far below; the flying cities plummeted, hitting the ground with terrifying force.  Flying witches and wizards screamed as they fell, roaring and chanting spells in a desperate - and futile - attempt to save their lives.  The magic was gone.

I saw it all.  The giants, suddenly collapsing under their own weight; the great machines, flickering and failing.  The population panicking, looking around in numb horror, utterly unable to comprehend what had happened.  The most powerful amongst them, the ones who had lived amongst the clouds, were already dead.  And none of the survivors knew how to live without magic.  They couldn't do anything without magic.  I floated high above and watched their world die.

And then I found myself beside the largest of the Great Drakes.  It was lying on the ground, its wings flapping helplessly as it tried to return to the skies.  But it was hopeless.  A creature that size simply couldn’t survive, let alone fly, without magic.  Its eyes stared at me pleadingly, as if it knew I was there, then finally started to close.  Pity tore at my heart as it died.  The creature had been majestic, a true being of magic.  And yet, the age of magic was over.

I awoke, screaming.  Sweat ran down my forehead as I gasped for breath.  It had been a dream, just a dream.  I’d never had a True Dream in my life.  The talent had been lost so long ago that some scholars believed it had never existed.  And yet, I could still hear the screaming as I wiped sweat from my brow, still see the dead and the dying when I closed my eyes ...

It felt so real.

Chapter One

I awoke, to a soft insistent tapping on the other side of my drapes.

“Coming,” I said, sitting up and swinging my legs over the bed.  My watch said it was ten o’clock in the morning.  Sandy had let us sleep in.  “Sandy?”

“Yeah,” Sandy said.  Her voice sounded muffled.  Rose had cast silencing charms on my drapes, but they hadn't lasted.  “You’re wanted in the changing room down the corridor.”

I winced.  I’d been trying to forget that Rose and I had been summoned to Magus Court for the inquest into our kidnapping.  It had been a week since we’d been returned to the city and it hadn't been easy getting back to school.  But then, school hadn't been easy in the first place.  Even now ...

“Cat,” Rose said, from outside.  She sounded as tired as I felt.  “Can I come in?”

“Yes, please,” I said, pulling a small bag from under the bed.  “How are you feeling?”

“Rotten,” Rose said, as she pushed the drapes aside and stepped in.  “How are you?”

I looked up and winced, again.  Rose looked pale, so pale that her red hair was even more striking than usual.  She’d been having nightmares, I knew; nightmares that left her feeling as though she hadn't had any sleep at all.  I was surprised that Sandy hadn't insisted that Rose sleep somewhere else, if she wasn't going to take anything to help her rest.  Or, perhaps, attend counselling with Magistra Haydon.  My father had offered to let Rose speak with one of the family’s experts on mental health, but that would have to wait until after the hearing.  I didn't think she’d enjoy it very much.

But she might need it, I thought.  I’d had problems with the shrinks - they’d assumed that I was deliberately repressing my magic, magic I didn't have - but Rose was a far simpler case.  They might be able to help her.

I slung my bag over my shoulder, then stepped through the drapes.  The other beds were empty, suggesting that our dormmates had gone down to breakfast or found something else to do.  Sandy might have chased them out, I supposed.  Normally, weekends were lazy days ... even with exams coming up.  But no one would argue with Sandy when she was in a bad mood.  I’d heard that she’d received a tongue-lashing for letting Rose, Akin and myself be kidnapped.  It wasn't her fault, but I knew the staff were in desperate need of someone to blame.

“They’re in the changing room,” Sandy said, jerking a finger towards the door.  Her stern expression softened, just slightly.  “Good luck.”

“Thank you,” I said.  I’d reassured Sandy that I didn’t blame her, but my word counted for nothing.  “We’ll see you this evening.”

Sandy shrugged, then lay back on her bed.  I hesitated, trying to think of something to say, but none of the etiquette lessons Mum had forced me to take had covered this situation.  Sandy hadn't made a fool of herself, unlike a few upperclassmen I could mention, nor had she been deliberately malicious ... and yet her future had been ruined anyway.  No one would want to offer her an apprenticeship now.  I wished there was something I could do for her, but nothing came to mind.  My father was hardly likely to listen to my pleading on her behalf.

I felt oddly exposed as I walked through the door and down the corridor.  My hair hadn't been washed, let alone braided.  Mum would have pitched a fit if she’d seen us, even though there was no reasonable chance of being seen by the adults.  And if I was seen ... I’d be the talk of the town, not in a good way.  There were just too many people who wanted to embarrass our house.  They’d gleefully dissect my etiquette failings for the rest of the year.

Not that it matters, I thought.  They spent the last three years dissecting my failures in magic.

The familiar, bitter resentment welled up inside me as we reached the changing room and stepped inside.  I’d had no magic - no apparent magic - for six years, while my siblings had developed their magic at a terrifying rate.  Even now, even after discovering what I could do, I still felt a little resentment.  The kidnappers - Fairuza and her mystery patron - had treated me as an object, rather than a person.  And too many others felt the same way.  They were more concerned with what I could do for them than what they could do for me.

“Cat,” Alana said.  Her pinched face  narrowed into a disapproving frown. “You look terrible.”

I tensed, automatically.  Alana had been my tormenter for six years, regularly hexing and jinxing me for her own amusement.  Our relationship had never been pleasant.  Even now, I was wary of her.  She’d veered from regarding me as a ball and chain around her future prospects to fearing that my unique talents would make me outshine her.  Dad might have ordered her and Bella to help us prepare for the hearing, but ... I hoped she’d have the sense to behave herself.  Dad was on the warpath.

“I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I told her.  It might well be true.  I wasn’t ugly, but my face had more character than traditional beauty.  “Are you well?”

Alana’s dark face twisted into an ugly scowl.  “Get in the shower and wash,” she ordered, flatly.  “We’ll be ready when you come out.”

I looked from Alana to Bella, then shrugged.  It was hard to believe, sometimes, that we were really related.  We had the same eyes and skin tone, but Alana’s face was sharper than mine while Bella’s had grown pudgy.  They took more after Mum than Dad, something I supposed was lucky for them.  I had inherited his cheekbones.  Mum had told me that I’d grow into my looks, but I rather suspected it was the kind of thing mothers told their homely daughters.

“Fine,” I said.  The sooner we were washed, the sooner we could get dressed and have our hair braided.  “You get set up here.”

Rose followed me into the shower.  She looked as nervous as I felt, even though she knew she needed Alana and Bella more than me.  I could braid my own hair, given time.  I could even devise Objects of Power to help me braid my hair.  But Rose had grown up in the country.  Everything she said, every move she made, marked her as someone of no account.  She needed to be dressed properly, if nothing else, or she’d be dismissed as hopelessly gauche.

And yet, that would be simpler, I thought, as I stripped down and stepped into the warm water.  If I’d grown up on a farm ...

I shook my head.  If I’d grown up on a farm, no one would have thought there was anything odd about my lack of magic.  But it wouldn’t have been an easy life.  Rose had told me enough horror stories about life on the farm to convince me that it wasn't something I wanted for myself.  And yet ... I wasn't sure what I did want.  I’d wanted to be famous - and now I was famous - but it had come at a price.  My life would never be my own.

Rose muttered a drying cantrip as we stepped out of the shower and back into the changing room.  Alana and Bella had been unusually efficient; they’d set up the dressing tables and hung the dresses behind the door, rather than leave them in the bags until they were actually needed.  I hesitated, unwilling to let Alana any closer than absolutely necessary, then sighed and nodded to the dress.  Better for Bella to work on Rose than risk Alana hexing my friend when her back was turned.  I didn’t think Alana would be stupid enough to anger Dad that badly, but she’d done stupid things before.

“Get this on,” Alana said, shoving an undershirt at me.  “We have to hurry.”

“We have time,” I said, soothingly.  “They’re not going to start without us.”

“They’ll notice if you’re late,” Alana countered.  She unhooked the dress and carried it over to me.  “I hope you haven’t put on weight.”

Bella made a small sound of protest.  I winced in sympathy.  Bella wasn't exactly overweight, but she was pudgy enough for it to be noticed.  Thankfully, she had the patience to help Rose don unfamiliar undergarments.  I didn't know what Rose had worn on the farm, but I was fairly sure it was something simple.  She’d had a great deal of trouble with the school uniform when she’d first arrived.  I’d had helped her get dressed more than once.

I ignored her as I studied the blue dress.  It was a miniature version of a dress Mum wore on special occasions, right down to the runes sewn into the silk and the family crest on my left shoulder.  No one would fail to recognise me.  Alana helped me into it, tightening fastenings and doing up ribbons.  I tried to keep the dismay off my face as I inspected myself in the mirror.  The dress looked nice, but it wasn't designed to be easy to remove.  I was going to have real problems when we returned to the school.

“We should be coming with you,” Alana said, once she’d finished.  “You know ... show off to the crowd.”

“Dad said no,” I reminded her.  Dad couldn't keep either Rose or myself from attending the hearing, but he’d put his foot down when his other daughters had been invited.  “You can ask him if he wants to change his mind.”

Alana shook her head, hastily.  I hid my smile as I sat down in front of the dressing table and braced myself.  Sisters braided each other’s hair all the time, I’d been told, but I wasn't too keen on allowing Alana anywhere near my hair.  She’d once hexed my barrette to fall out at a particularly embarrassing moment, which would have been bad enough, but it had somehow undone my braids at the same time.  Mum had been furious.  Alana had been lucky not to be grounded for so long her grandchildren would still be stuck in the bedroom.  Three weeks had been getting off lightly, under the circumstances.

I had to smile.  That had been a very peaceful summer.

Alana’s reflection scowled at me.  “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” I said, quickly.  I made a show of looking at the clock.  “Hurry?”

Alana nodded, then went to work with a smooth comb.  My hair - our hair - had never been easy to keep under control, but my mother had charmed our combs and brushes to work out the tangles and other problems without a long struggle.  I tried to stay calm as Alana brushed out my hair, then started to work it into long dark braids.  If she hexed my hair ...

She wouldn't be that stupid, I told myself, again and again.  My father knew how my talents actually worked.  He knew he’d made a dreadful mistake by allowing Alana to hex me repeatedly in hopes of bringing out my magic.  She wouldn’t be allowed to get away with it any longer.  And besides, we were going to Magus Court.  If Dad was humiliated in front of his rivals ...

I shivered.  Akin was going to be there - and so was his father.  Lord Carioca Rubén had been working steadily to undermine my father’s position since they were both young men.  Akin had told me that Carioca Rubén had been delighted when it had seemed I didn't have magic, then horrified when he realised the truth.  It would be hard, almost impossible, for us to be unseated if we were the only source of new Objects of Power.  Dad had wondered if Carioca Rubén had backed the kidnappers, even though he’d sworn an oath denying it.  They had every reason to try to remove me before my mere existence shifted the balance of power permanently against them.

And we have their Family Sword, I thought.  I’d hidden it under my bed, locked away in a box I’d designed myself.  I didn't know if Akin had told his father about the sword.  I knew I hadn't told my father.  That won’t make our lives any easier.

“Nearly done,” Alana said.  Her fingers worked their way through my hair.  “You do remember your manners, don’t you?”

I smiled.  “Shake hands with the left hand, stick my tongue out at the guests, run off as soon as decently possible ...”

Alana didn't see the funny side.  “Well, if you want to be disowned ... go right ahead.”

“I remember how to behave myself,” I said.  Mum - and my aunts - had put us through hour after hour of etiquette training.  The formal dinners I’d shared with my cousins had been nightmarish.  Putting the slightest foot wrong had been grounds for a long lecture on precisely why we were meant to behave in a specific fashion.  I knew it was important, but ... I’d hated it.  “And we’re not going to a wedding.”

“Thank the ancients,” Alana said.

Bella coughed.  “I heard that Susan of House Fitzwilliam is getting married to Jan,” she said, tersely.  “We’ll be invited, of course.”

I groaned.  Weddings were hard enough at the best of times.  But a match between a Great House and a New Man?  They were always awkward.  The Great Houses understood the importance of new blood, but there was always someone who would look down on the newcomer.  And there was probably no way to get out of it, if we were invited.  Mum and Dad would make us go.

“I’ll try to come up with an excuse,” I said.

Alana snorted.  “You know what they say,” she said.  “If you’re on your deathbed, bring your deathbed with you.”

Rose giggled.  She clearly thought Alana was joking.  I knew better.  Weddings were the social event of the year, as far as the families were concerned.  Anyone who didn't attend would be deemed to have snubbed the families, something that would have thoroughly unpleasant repercussions further down the line.  I’d heard enough horror stories to know that a feud that started at a wedding would linger for centuries, long enough for everyone involved to forget what actually started it.

“Done,” Alana said, shortly.  “What do you think?”

I looked at my reflection.  The braid was perfect, not a single hair out of place.  Alana had placed a couple of clips into the hair to hold it firmly in place, but I doubted they were necessary.  She’d done a very good job.  The blue dress looked striking, although I had the feeling it was going to get crumpled by the time we reached Magus Court.  Thankfully, the family dressmaker had charmed the material to ensure it didn’t get rumpled - or dirty.

Those charms might not last, I reminded myself.  I’d discovered that charms fed off a magician’s personal magic, but - as far as I knew - Rose and I were the only people who knew it.  And I was the only person who knew the source of magic.  The dress might start getting dirty halfway through the hearing.

“Good enough,” I said, unwilling to praise her too much.  “Rose?”

“She’s ready,” Bella said.

I glanced at Rose.  She looked as if she didn't dare to move.  The green dress my parents had sent her was expensive, very expensive.  My family could afford a hundred such dresses and never notice the cost, but Rose’s family could no more buy silk from Hangchow than they could purchase an Object of Power.  If she tore it ... I shot her a reassuring look.  The dress was charmed to keep it intact and Rose, unlike me, had plenty of raw magic to power the spells.  She wouldn’t be able to damage the dress unless she used a pretty destructive spell.

“You look great,” I told her.  She did.  Her red hair was tied into a pair of neat pigtails, drawing attention to her pale face and the client crest my father had given her.  It was unusual for someone so young to be taken on as a client, but it would give Rose a little extra status at Magus Court.  “How are you feeling?”

“Hungry,” Rose said.

“There's food in the cooler,” Alana said.  She opened the box to reveal a selection of sandwiches.  “Eat quickly.”

I felt my stomach growl, so I took a sandwich and ate it as fast as I could.  It tasted like ashes in my mouth.  We were going to Magus Court ... the butterflies in my stomach were multiplying at terrifying speed.  Normally, I wouldn't visit the court while it was in session, at least until I was old enough to have my Season.  A mistake made in front of everyone who was anyone would haunt me for the rest of my life.  Alana would spend the rest of her life rubbing it in.

“You’ll be back before you know it,” Alana told us.  “Try not to embarrass the family.”

“Thank you,” I said, sourly.

I opened my bag and removed a pair of protective bracelets, glinting under the light.  I slipped one onto my wrist and passed the other to Rose.  Magus Court was supposed to be protected against all threats, from subtle mind-altering charms to outright death spells, but I knew better than to place my faith in Devices of Power.  Too many magicians would be working hard trying to find ways to circumvent the wards.  Even Objects of Power could be beaten if one knew how to do it.

And I can't even sense magic, I thought, as I snapped the earrings into place.  I’m vulnerable.

There was a sharp rap at the door.  Alana opened it.

“The carriage is waiting for you,” an upperclassman I didn't recognise said.  Her blue eyes flickered over us for a long moment, her lips twisting in a mixture of stern disapproval and bitter envy.  “Are you ready?”

I looked at Rose, who nodded.  “Yeah,” I said, standing.  “Let’s go.”

Chapter Two

I couldn't help feeling, as I walked down the stairs and into the courtyard, that I was going straight to my own funeral.  The dresses we wore might have looked good, but they were strikingly out of place at Jude’s.  Everyone stared at us.  It was a relief when I saw my father’s coach in the courtyard, the driver waving cheerfully to us from his perch behind the horses.  A pair of family armsmen were standing in front of the coach, looking around with wary eyes.  It would be a long time before anyone took Jude’s security for granted again.

The valet, standing beside the coach, bowed politely and opened the door.  I glanced at Rose, who looked terrified, then clambered up the steps and into the vehicle.  My father was sitting on the cushy bench, wearing a white suit and a black wig that had been shaped into an extremely complicated arrangement.  Everyone knew it was a wig, of course, but everyone knew that everyone else wore a wig too.  High Society insisted that men and women alike had to shape their hair to show that they were rich and powerful enough to hire personal stylists, although the men tended to cheat.  My mother had never been very happy about it.  She’d made sure we girls knew how to take care of our hair, instead of relying on the maids.

“Caitlyn,” Dad said.  His gaze moved past me.  “Rose.”

“Sir,” Rose said, nervously.  My father intimidated her.  He intimidated most people.  “Thank you for inviting me.”

Dad laughed, rather humourlessly.  “Magus Court invited you,” he said, kindly.  “Please, sit down.”

We did as we were told.  At the valet's barked command, the vehicle lurched forward and out of the courtyard.  I wanted to peer through the windows, but the drapes had been pulled tightly closed.  Dad wanted to talk to us, then.  Normally, the glass was charmed to allow us to see out without being seen.  It wasn't as if there was anything else to do.  I’d learnt to hate riding in carriages from a very early age.

“The hearing has been ... taken over,” Dad said.  His dark eyes bored into mine.  “You’ll be questioned, perhaps extensively.  When you’re on the stand, tell the truth - and nothing but the truth.  When you’re off the stand, remain quiet; speak only if you’re spoken to.”

I nodded, sourly.  Children were expected to accompany their parents to Magus Court, if there was a prospect of them becoming the next Family Head, but it was rare for anyone to be taken before they turned sixteen.  It was a chance to learn how power really worked, I’d been told, yet it was also boring.  I didn't think I’d be able to sit still for hours, unable even to twiddle my thumbs.  But if I behaved badly, it would reflect badly on my father.  His children might be denied the chance to become matriarchs in their own right.

Not that there was ever much hope of me becoming Matriarch, I thought, dryly.  I have no magic.

I sucked in my breath as the true meaning of his words sunk in.  “Dad ... who’s taken over the hearing?”

“The Crown Prince,” Dad said.  “I expect you to be on your very best behaviour.”

I blinked in surprise.  Technically, I’d seen the Crown Prince at the Royal Wedding, ten years ago, but I remembered almost nothing.  My sisters and I had been only two years old at the time.  I’d seen portraits of the happy couple and their children over the years, but I had no idea how accurate they were.  My portrait made me look like the sweetest little girl imaginable.  The artist had painted to a romantic ideal, rather than trying to depict me as I was.

“Yes, Dad,” I said, trying desperately to remember royal protocol.  I should have brushed up on it ... I would have brushed up on it, if I’d known the Crown Prince was coming.  I was surprised I hadn’t heard about it well ahead of time.  It normally took months to sort out questions of protocol and precedence when the king or his eldest son visited the city.  “Why did he come so quickly?”

Dad looked displeased.  “King Rufus feels that a matter of such importance, one touching on the two greatest houses in the city, should be handled by a member of the Royal Family.  It is annoying, but understandable.”

I nodded.  My father was the most powerful man in the city - and Akin’s father was a close second.  A very close second.  They might have worked together to find us, after we’d been kidnapped, but they would never like each other.  Worse, Dad had openly speculated that Akin’s father - or someone else within his family - might have planned and carried out the kidnapping, risking the life of his son and heir to get their hands on the only known Zero.  I didn't believe it, but I understood the logic.  Akin might be the heir, pro tem, yet he wasn't the only candidate.

And Lord Rubén doesn’t want a female heir, I reminded myself.  It was odd, but House Rubén was the oldest of the Great Houses.  They made a point of continuing traditions the rest of us had long-since abandoned.  Their founder had only wanted patriarchs, so the modern generation also wanted patriarchs.  I didn't blame Isabella for being angry at her father’s casual dismissal.  I just wished she hadn't taken it out on me.  One of his brothers could have plotted the kidnapping, hoping to remove both me and Akin in a single blow.

Dad reached forward and pulled back the drapes.  I peered through the glass, just in time to watch the carriage rattle over the bridge into North Shallot.  A small army of guardsmen seemed to be patrolling the streets, spellcasters at the ready; the shops and guildhouses were closed, as if their owners expected trouble.  I thought I caught a glimpse of a Kingsman in his magnificent silver armour, but it might have been one of the prince’s household guards.  He would hardly have come alone.

I looked at Dad.  “Did the prince take Magus Court?”

Dad’s expression managed - somehow - to darken further.  “He’s currently staying in the Westland Lodge,” he said.  “It has been quite awkward.”

“Ouch,” I said.  The Westland Lodge was a royal residence in all but name.  And yet, it was also used to host meetings on neutral ground.  No doubt a great many conferences had had to be cancelled in a hurry, just so the staff could prepare themselves for the prince’s visit.  “Is that going to cause problems?”

“Let us hope not,” Dad said.

I looked at Rose, who'd shrank back against the cushions as if she was afraid she'd be whipped.  I pointed out of the window, telling her about some of the older buildings in the centre of the city in the hopes of distracting her.  Most of the buildings dated all the way back to the Thousand-Year Empire, although none of them had actually flown.  Shallot had been established as a trading town well before the fall of the empire and no one had ever believed it would grow into a significant city.  It probably wouldn't have, if the empire hadn't collapsed.  A combination of luck, good judgement and careful planning had taken the city through the dark ages and allowed it to claim a unique position within the kingdom.  And my family had been at the centre of it.

Or so we are told, I thought, and shivered.  I knew, better than anyone, just how many secrets had been lost - or deliberately destroyed - in the past.  How much of the history we take for granted was rewritten over the years?

I pushed the thought aside as Magus Court came into view.  It looked remarkable, for a place with such a foreboding reputation.  It was a palace, a fairytale palace, made out of something that looked like glass or marble, but very definitely wasn't either.  The secret of whatever had been used to make the building was long gone, unfortunately.  Magus Court looked fragile, so fragile that a single gust of wind might be enough to smash it, yet the building had endured everything from rogue warlocks to storms blowing in from the sea.  The building was over a thousand years old.

“Wow,” Rose said.  “This is ...”

Her voice trailed away.  It struck me that she might never have seen the building before.  She’d gone to Aguirre Hall, but we hadn't given her a tour of North Shallot.  I promised myself I’d take her over the summer holidays, if I could get permission to invite her to stay in the city.  We could meet up with Akin and have a proper tour.  Our fathers wouldn't be happy, but I thought they’d understand.  Rose was my closest friend.  I hadn't had a proper friend since it had become clear that I couldn't do magic.

I reached for my spectacles and put them on as the carriage passed a pair of armsmen and turned into the courtyard.  Instantly, the scene was transformed.  I could see threads of magic running through the entire building, drawing on the magic field to hold the building together.  I sucked in my breath as I realised, slowly, just what I was seeing.  Magus Court - all of Magus Court - was a single, giant Object of Power.  My heart started to race as I tried to grasp the sheer scale of the project.  I couldn't have done it, not alone.  Dozens, perhaps hundreds, of Zeroes had to have worked on the building.

We’ve got a long way to go, I thought.  As far as I knew, I was still the only Zero.  How many people would've been needed to build Magus Court?

I started to try to figure it out, then stopped as the carriage lurched to a halt.  I took the spectacles off and returned them to my pocket.  The door opened a second later, revealing a set of steps leading down to the cobbled ground.  Dad walked down first, followed by the two of us.  I held my head high as I’d been taught, even as the guards stared at me suspiciously.  The combined scrutiny of city guardsmen and the Crown Prince’s personal armsmen was not comfortable.  I could practically feel Rose shrinking behind me.

Dad nodded to the guards, then led the way through the main entrance and into a giant chamber.  There were small groups of people scattered over the floor, each one centred on a family head.  Everyone who was anyone had been invited to the hearing - and even if they hadn't been invited, they would have tried to come anyway.  It was the networking event of the year.  My lips twitched at the thought.  I’d never liked networking - no one had wanted to network with me until my talents had manifested - but I’d been the catalyst for a great many other discussions.  I wondered, absently, just how many of them would turn into something significant.

Rose tapped my shoulder, gently.  “Akin,” she whispered, as I looked at her.  “He’s over there.”

I followed her gaze.  Akin was standing next to his father, wearing a miniature version of his father’s purple robes.  House Ruben was the only house to wear purple, a colour that had once been reserved for the Emperor and his closest family.  It was meaningless now, I thought, but they refused to let go of it.  My eyes met Akin’s, just for a second, and he winked at me.  I winked back.

“We should go say hello,” Rose said.

“We can't,” I muttered back.  There just hadn't been time to teach Rose everything she needed to know about formal etiquette.  We couldn't simply walk over and say hello.  Akin was, to all intents and purposes, his father’s client.  My father would have to speak to his father before we could speak to our friend.  “Just stay close to my father.”

The room slowly filled with the great and the good - or at least the powerful and influential.  I picked out a number of faces I’d been told to memorise: matriarchs and patriarchs, guild leaders, merchants with trading interests spread all over the world ... even a handful of foreign ambassadors.  The latter seemed particularly interested in me.  Their gazes bored into me whenever I looked in their direction.  If Mum hadn't drilled me so intensely in formal etiquette, I would have cringed under their gaze.  It made me want to hide.

Chin up, I told myself, firmly.  They can't be as bad as the grand dames of society.

I smiled, despite myself.  The grand dames didn't seem to do anything, as far as I could tell, apart from attending tea parties and criticising children.  A single hair out of place would be grounds for a full interrogation as the dames demanded to know why I was letting the family down.  One of them had even had the nerve to walk into my father’s workroom and demand to know why I wasn't wearing a dress while I practiced forging.  Did she really think anyone would forge in an expensive dress?

“He’s coming over,” Rose whispered.

“Don’t speak until you are spoken to,” I whispered back.  Lord Carioca Rubén was walking towards us, Akin trailing him like a lost puppy.  He looked to have recovered from the kidnapping, although there was no way to be sure.  If he was having nightmares, he’d do everything in his power to keep his dormmates from learning about them.  “We have to be polite.”

“Lord Aguirre,” Carioca said.  “It is a great pleasure to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Dad said.  Neither man sounded particularly sincere.  “I trust that your son has recovered from his experiences?”

“My son has indeed recovered,” Carioca said.  His gaze flickered over Rose, but lingered on me.  “And your daughter and her friend?”

“They have returned to school,” Dad said, which wasn't an answer.  “I have yet to discover the guiding hands behind the plot.”

“I have not discovered anyone, either,” Carioca said.  His voice was very stiff.  “I request the honour of a private discussion, after the hearing.”

My father’s face went blank.  I glanced at him, then Akin.  My friend was red and embarrassed.  There was no way he could hide his feelings on his pale face.  I had the feeling he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.  I understood entirely.  Parents could be so embarrassing.

“It will be my pleasure,” Dad said, slowly.  “Please book a suitable room.”

Carioca nodded, curtly.  I thought I understood.  The last thing he wanted was to appear a supplicant, certainly not to my father.  I was sure he’d cast a privacy ward around us, as soon as he approached, but too many eyes would have seen him walk over to Dad.  There was no hiding the fact that it had been he who’d requested the meeting.  That would make life harder for him.

Perhaps, I thought.

Trumpets blew.  I turned, just in time to see a trio of Kingsmen enter through the door.  Their silver armour seemed to glow with a radiant light, a reminder that the armour dated all the way back to the empire too.  I wondered, absently, if I could make it myself.  The silver wouldn't be too hard to work, but carving the correct runes into the various pieces would be difficult.  And then it would have to flow into a single Object of Power ...

“Great Lords and Ladies,” the herald bellowed.  “Henry, Crown Prince of Tintagel!  Princess Saffron of North Cairnbulg!”

I knelt.  Everyone knelt, save for the matriarchs and patriarchs.  I kept my head bowed, but managed to look towards the Crown Prince and his wife.  They made a stunning pair.  The prince wore golden armour that shone so brightly it was actually hard to see his face, while his dark-skinned bride wore a white gown that outshone every other dress in the room.  Her skin was lighter than mine - she’d been born on the northern side of the Great Minima Desert, while my ancestors had been born in the south - but her hair was actually darker.  I hadn't believed that possible.  Maybe it was just a charm.  The courtly fashions of Tintagel were always a month or two ahead of Shallot.

The Crown Prince walked forward slowly, looking neither left nor right.  I concentrated, trying to force my eyes to see through the glow.  He was blond, strikingly blond; I wondered, darkly, if he was related to Akin and Isabella.  His hair was cut in a simple style, rather than shaped into an elaborate hairstyle; he didn't even wear a wig.  He was stunningly handsome, with muscles on his muscles; his blue eyes were practically glowing with life.  I couldn't help feeling that it was too good to be true.  A glamour?  I wanted to slip on my spectacles, just to take a look.  But I didn't dare try to put them on in front of the entire room.

He couldn't hope to fool everyone in the city, I told myself.  Traditionally, glamours were respected - cancelling someone’s glamour was regarded with the same kind of horror reserved for ripping off someone’s clothes - but I wasn't sure that rule applied to the Crown Prince.  They’d know he was using a glamour.

The Crown Prince seemed to look at me, just for a second.  I looked down, hastily.  When I looked up again, he was making his way into the courtroom.  Perhaps I’d imagined it ...

“The formalities are concluded,” the herald informed us.  “You may rise, and enter the courtroom.”

Dad helped me to my feet.  “You’ll be in the witness box,” he reminded me.  “Remember what I said.”

“I will,” I promised.  The butterflies in my stomach were growing worse.  “And afterwards ...”

“We’ll talk about it later,” Dad said.  He squeezed my hand, reassuringly.  “It's going to be fine.”

“I hope so,” I muttered back.

Chapter Three

Rose walked behind, so close she kept bumping into me, as we entered the courtroom and made our way down towards the witness box.  It was a large chamber, yet it wasn't anything like big enough to accommodate everyone who wanted to attend.  Great Lords and Ladies were standing against the wooden walls, while others - of lesser rank - were being told to watch from the balcony or stand outside and listen through scrying spells.  I allowed myself a sigh of relief as I saw Sir Griffons sitting in the witness box, wearing the sword I’d forged for him.  At least we wouldn't be completely alone.

“I don’t know which of us will be called first,” he told us, as we took our seats.  Akin joined us a moment later.  “We’ll just have to wait.”

I nodded, stiffly.  It wasn’t precisely a trial, but there would still be consequences if we lied ... or did anything else that might embarrass our fathers.  Dad had drilled us in basic legalities, yet I knew just how much I didn't know.  I’d considered becoming a lawyer, when it had become increasingly apparent that I would never be a sorceress, but it would have been easy for my opponents to subtly hex me to ensure I lost the case.

Rose shivered as she sat down next to me.  I took her hand gently, then looked around.  The room was heaving.  Even the balconies were standing room only.  I gritted my teeth as I spotted Great Aunt Stregheria sitting on one of the upper levels, surrounded by a handful of other ladies of a certain age.  She looked more like a vulture than ever, her dark eyes circling around the chamber as if she were looking for carrion.  I didn't dare meet her eyes.  My amulet should have protected me from anything nasty, but I knew - all too well - that Great Aunt Stregheria was formidable.  I wouldn't have put it past her to find a way to embarrass my father in public.

I returned my gaze to the front of the room.  The Crown Prince was sitting in the judge’s seat, flanked by his wife and an odd-looking man in an elaborate wig.  Below him, the five quaestors were waiting for the inquest to begin.  Their faces were so blank that I knew they were nervous.  Questioning children wasn't an easy task at the best of times, but Akin and I both came from powerful families.  Irritating both families would probably cost the quaestors their careers.

The doors closed with an audible BANG.  The funny-looking man stood.

“In line with the standards laid down by the first assembly of mages, nine hundred years ago, I declare this hearing open,” he said.  He had to be the clerk, probably the Crown Prince’s personal clerk.  I’d never seen him before.  “I call Lead Quaestor Mathis to the stand.”

Mathis stood.  I studied him with some interest.  He was a tall thin man, with light skin and dark hair slowly turning grey.  It was hard to be sure, but I thought he was around ten years older than my father.  He didn't seem to care about his appearance, even though he could have dyed his hair or simply used a glamour.  But then, quaestors were devoted to the truth.  Mathis probably thought that using a glamour was a lie.

“We are gathered here today to conduct a hearing into the abduction of three children from Jude’s Sorcerous Academy,” he said.  His voice was as dry as dust.  “It was decided, under the circumstances, that the hearing would be conducted publicly.  Therefore ...”

I did my best to listen as he droned on and on, discussing the progress the quaestors had made so far and running through an entire series of legal caveats that left me wanting to close my eyes and go to sleep.  The Crown Prince managed to look interested - I couldn't help feeling a little envious - but others seemed to be having trouble keeping their eyes open.  It was a relief, almost, when I was called to the stand.

We needed to practice, I thought, as I walked forward.  I was painfully aware that every eye in the chamber was watching me.  And we didn't have time.

“Place your hands on the wood,” the clerk said.  I did, feeling my amulet grow warm as my finger touched the wood.  There was a charm carefully woven into the stand, almost certainly a truth spell.  And probably designed to encourage me to talk freely too.  I hoped my amulet could deflect it.  There were too many details I didn't want to share with anyone.  “Tell us one truth and one lie.”

“My name is Caitlyn,” I said.  “And I’m twenty-five years old.”

The air around me turned green, then red.  I winced, inwardly.  The colour should have been brighter ... perhaps it was merely a function of the spell.  I’d lied, but not with malicious intent.  Or maybe the amulet was already countering the spell.  I couldn't feel any impulse to talk, but that was meaningless.  A good truth spell would be designed to ensure that the victim didn't know she was enchanted.

“Thank you,” Mathis said.  “Would you please tell us, in your own words, what happened during the abduction?”

I took a moment to gather my thoughts, choosing my words carefully.  I told them about Rolf and his friends luring us out of the school’s wards, then detailed everything from the moment we’d woken up in Fairuza’s clutches to our daring escape.  The room seemed to echo with gasps as I told them about the Eternal City, then how we’d managed to make our way up the coastline until we’d finally been rescued by the Kingsmen.  I carefully didn't tell them anything about the magic field.  They didn't need to know.

The quaestors waited until I was finished, then tossed a series of questions at me.  They were lighter than I’d expected - I’d feared they’d ask more about just how Rolf had managed to lure us out of the school - but I still had to think carefully before answering them.  I didn't want to lie directly, yet if I gave them a reason to suspect I was trying to mislead them ... sweat poured down my back as I chose my words.  A mistake now could prove fatal.

“We thank you,” Mathis said, finally.  It felt as though I’d been on the stand for hours.  “Does anyone have any points to raise?”

I gritted my teeth as the various senior magicians started to ask their own questions, then arguing amongst themselves.  One magician would ask a question, only to have another shout it down before I could answer.  The Crown Prince seemed oddly amused by the whole display, even as he tried to calm them down.  It would have been funny, I was sure, if I hadn't been in the witness box.  I wanted a glass of water and a chance to sit down, not wait for them to decide what questions I was actually supposed to answer.

The Crown Prince finally managed to restore order, only to have Great Aunt Stregheria signal for attention.  “It cannot be denied that my niece has conducted herself well,” she said, in a poisonously sweet tone.  “However, she cannot defend herself against attack.  I believe she should be taken into protective custody at once.”

I felt my legs threaten to buckle.  Great Aunt Stregheria had tried to take me into her home once before, offering to foster me ... she’d talked a good game, but I knew, all too well, that she wanted to make use of me.  My mere existence threatened the balance of power.  Too many people might have been secretly relieved if the kidnappers had slit my throat in the dark.

Dad rose, glaring at his aunt.  “It has been decided that Caitlyn will continue at Jude’s for the immediate future,” he said.  He sounded displeased.  I had a feeling that a number of high-level discussions had taken place, concerning me, as soon as we’d been rescued.  “The school’s security measures have been reviewed and should prove suitable.”

“That has been agreed,” the Crown Prince said.  His voice was polite, but firm.  “Caitlyn will remain at Jude’s until a final decision is made.”

I was torn between relief and annoyance.  On one hand, I wouldn't have to leave the school immediately.  But, on the other hand, they were talking about me as though I was an object, rather than a person.  My fate wasn't in my hands.  It might never be in my hands, even after I had my Season.  The kidnappers might have failed to keep me prisoner, but someone with more forethought might be able to construct an inescapable prison.   They’d certainly have a better idea of what not to do.

“Thank you, Lady Caitlyn,” the clerk said.  “You may return to your seat.”

It was all I could do not to sag as I made my way back to the bench and sat down.  I felt sweaty and uncomfortable ... I needed a shower, perhaps even a bath.  The charms on the dress had clearly failed already, no matter what the seamstresses had promised.  I hoped Rose would have an easier time of it.  Her spells should last for the rest of the dress’s lifetime.

The clerk called Akin to the stand.  I braced myself, half-expecting to have someone calculate the timeline of events and realise I’d left out part of the story, but nothing happened.  Akin ran through his version of events, then answered a handful of questions.  It was clear that his father had forced him to practice, time and time again.  His answers were crisp, brief and left very little room for further questions.

His dad probably started to train him as soon as he was old enough to walk, I reminded myself, before I could start wondering why my father hadn't tried to prepare us.  Akin was pretty much the designated heir right from the start.

Akin sat down.  Rose was called up.  I gritted my teeth as it became all too apparent that Rose didn't have the slightest training in public speaking.  Even in the charmed courtroom, her voice was so quiet that the clerk had to tell her to speak up several times.  But her story accorded with ours on almost all of the points, leaving no reason for the quaestors to start wondering about missing time.  What had I been doing when Akin and Rose had been trapped in the ruined house?

They don’t know they lost any time either, I reminded myself.  I still didn't know how that had been done.  A magician could freeze someone in her tracks - Alana had done it to me more times than I could count - but the victim would still be conscious.  Akin and Rose never realised they were enchanted.

There was a pause once the quaestors had finished questioning Rose.  I half-expected Great Aunt Stregheria to question Rose’s story, on the grounds that Rose was a common-born girl instead of a great magician, but she kept her mouth shut.  Hardly anyone asked her a question, even after the quaestors opened the floor to the audience.  Perhaps they didn't take her seriously.  There was no way Rose could be mistaken for a nobly-born girl.

“Thank you,” the clerk said, dismissing Rose.  “Sir Griffons?”

A rustle ran through the room.  Technically, Rose should have been given time to sit down before the next witness was called.  Sir Griffons rose, but stayed where he was until Rose sat down.  He didn't look pleased as he took the stand.  I squeezed Rose’s hand, then looked at Akin.  He looked as tired as I felt.  And it wasn't even noon!

I leaned forward, interested, as Sir Griffons began to speak.  He sounded calm, but very confident.  His voice admitted of no doubt, not even the vaguest feeling he might be wrong about something.  I couldn't help admiring his demeanour.  I wanted to be that calm when I grew up.

“We were alerted to the kidnapping when the three victims did not return to their dorms at Lights Out,” Sir Griffon told us.  “We immediately checked the other dorms and discovered that a handful of upperclassmen had also vanished, although it was hard to be certain they were involved as it was the weekend.  By that time, the kidnappers had had several hours to move their victims to a warded location and transport them to the Eternal City.”

I was too tired to keep from smiling, although I knew it wasn't really funny.  Upperclassmen were not supposed to leave the school, even on weekends, but most of them sneaked out anyway.  It was an old tradition, one that had exploded in the faces of anyone unlucky enough to be playing truant when we’d been kidnapped.  The Kingsmen would not have been gentle to anyone who had been missing from the school.  Sandy had told me that she’d been subjected to truth spells and potions before she’d finally been cleared of any direct involvement in the affair.  I doubted the others had fared any better.

The thought made me wince.  The poor upperclassmen might blame me for their interrogations.  They’d be looking for excuses to give me lines until they graduated ... unless, of course, they wanted me to make Objects of Power for them.  I’d been trying to put together a favour network of my own before the kidnapping.  But I’d learnt my lesson about doing that.  Rolf wouldn't have lured me out of the school so easily if I hadn't been so desperate to have him and his friends owing me favours.

Maybe they’ll just take it out on Akin or Rose instead, I thought, dragging my attention back to Sir Griffons.  Or Alana and Bella.

“We interrogated the upperclassmen who did return, but none of them were involved with the kidnapping,” Sir Griffons said.  “Our attempts to search for the victims via magic were largely unsuccessful, even after we obtained a blood sample.  We drew a blank until we - finally - got a lead on their location.  Afterwards, we discovered that the kidnapped children had managed to escape the concealment wards on their own.  We deployed at once and headed east.”

He paused, dramatically.  “Even in our armour, it took several days to travel to their location.  It was sheer luck that we were able to find them and capture a number of the kidnappers when we finally reached them.  The kidnappers clearly didn't expect us, but ... their masters planned well.  None of the surviving captives remember anything.  Their minds have been wiped clean.”

The Crown Prince leaned forward.  “You do not know, then, who was behind the plot?”

“No, Your Highness,” Sir Griffons said, grimly.  “We have interrogated the families of the missing upperclassmen carefully, but none of them have been able to shed any light on the affair.  Nor have we been able to determine who trained Fairuza, if indeed Fairuza is her real name.  A half-Hangchowese girl should be easy to find, but it’s starting to look as though she wasn't born in Shallot and never attended Jude’s.  All the students who might have matched her description have been accounted for.”

I nodded, slowly.  Hangchowese were rare in Shallot.  Children with only one Hangchowese parent were even rarer.  They rarely knew anything about their fathers, which made it harder for them to establish themselves in the city.  I’d only met three of them - including Fairuza - in my entire life.  It was quite possible that Fairuza had been born and trained outside the country, which meant ...

No wonder the Crown Prince is involved, I told myself.  If Fairuza had worked for Galashiels or Balamory instead of one of the Great Houses, all hell might be about to break loose. The kidnapping could have been an act of war.

“They will be found,” the Crown Prince said.  I wasn't sure if he was reassuring himself or his audience.  “But there is a more important issue.  Lady Caitlyn was forced to work for them for three weeks.  What did she make for them and what can they do with it?”

Sir Griffons tensed.  “There is a full list attached to the briefing notes, Your Highness, but the short answer is that she made them a number of Objects of Power.  If handled carefully, they could be used to take over a city - Tintagel, for example.  Or they could be used to bring down a Great House.  They could certainly cause a great deal of damage in the wrong hands.”

I was suddenly aware of everyone looking at me.  I wanted to scream.  I wanted to tell them that I hadn't had a choice.  Fairuza and her allies had forced me to work for them, turning my closest friends into prison wardens.  It had taken me too long to plan an escape, but there had been no other way out.  What else could I have done?

“The backer might be a commoner, then,” the Crown Prince mused.  “Someone who had less reason to fear indiscriminate retribution than a nobleman.”

The crowd started to mutter.  They seemed to believe him.  I wasn't so sure, myself.  A commoner would have plenty of reason to want Objects of Power that could be turned against a Great House - and fewer qualms about kidnapping children from Jude’s - but whoever was behind Fairuza had known a great deal about magic.  I doubted Fairuza had volunteered to have her mind wiped, if she fell into enemy hands.  No, whoever had hired her - and perhaps trained her - had considered her disposable.  They certainly hadn't made any attempt to rescue her.

They may already consider her dead, I thought.  If someone loses all of their memories and personality, is anything left of them?  Or are they dead?

I shivered, helplessly.  I didn't know.

Chapter Four

“That was not pleasant,” Rose said, as we left the courtroom.

I nodded in agreement.  There had been a short break for lunch, which had tasted marginally better than ashes, then we’d reassembled in the courtroom and the families of the missing upperclassmen had been hauled in to testify.  They’d looked pitiful as they were interrogated, one by one, by the quaestors, who hadn't shown them any deference at all.  None of them had known anything about Fairuza, let alone their children’s involvement in a plot against the Great Houses.  It made me wonder just how little time they’d had to spend with their children.

“They were just pawns.”  Rose sounded pained.  “I don’t think they knew what they were getting into.”

“Perhaps not,” I agreed.  I found it hard to believe that Rolf and his friends had just thrown away a set of promising careers, but that was exactly what they'd done.  They’d be outlaws for the rest of their lives, assuming they weren't already dead.  The Kingsmen hadn't found the bodies, but that was meaningless.  “And yet they did kidnap us.”

Rose looked as if she wanted to say more, but Dad came over before she could open her mouth.  “Cat,” he said.  “I need you to accompany me.  Sir Griffons will escort Rose back to the school.”

I wanted to argue, but there was no point in trying when Dad was clearly in a bad mood.  I didn't really blame him, either.  Too many secrets - and things Dad would have preferred to keep quiet - had been openly discussed in the courtroom.  I rather suspected that I’d be blamed if - when - the Objects of Power made their reappearance, even though I’d been forced to make them.  Great Aunt Stregheria might not be the only person insisting that I be taken into protective custody by the end of the day.

“I’ll see you back in the dorms,” I said to Rose.  “We have a lot of catch-up work to do.”

Sir Griffons strode up to us, looking tired.  Dad spoke briefly to him, then took my arm and led me through a side door and down a long corridor.  The walls were panelled with wood, artfully designed to make it look as though the wood was holding up the ceiling.  I suspected that whoever had designed the original building had crafted the outer wall and supporting beams, then worked wood and plaster into the interior to hide its true nature.  I’d certainly never heard anything about Magus Court being an Object of Power.  I hoped no one would try to dig too far into the walls.  Removing even a single concealed gemstone could cause the entire building to collapse.

Something to talk about with Dad, later, I told myself, as we walked up a flight of stairs and into a small tearoom.  But we couldn't duplicate it without more Zeroes.

Lord Carioca Rubén was sitting in a comfortable armchair, holding a steaming cup of tea to his lips.  Akin sat next to him, looking miserable.  I felt a flicker of sympathy, but I didn’t dare try to signal it ... not when his father was so close.  I doubted Carioca was happy that Akin and I had become friends.  His family and mine had been rivals for far too long.

“Please, be seated,” Carioca said.  His voice was very calm.  “Akin will pour the tea.”

I glanced at my father, then sat on the smaller chair.  Akin moved with easy grace, pouring two cups of tea and passing them to us.  Dad made a show of drinking without bothering to check for poison first, something that would have impressed me more if I hadn't known it was very hard to deliberately harm someone in Magus Court.  In hindsight, that should have revealed the building’s true nature years ago.  The generalised wards necessary to prevent such an unspecific threat practically had to be focused on an Object of Power.

“You answered their questions very well,” Carioca said, once I had taken a sip of my tea.  “I don’t think you could have done better.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said, carefully.  My tea tasted perfect - milk, a hint of sugar - but I was wary.  He hadn't asked us both here to give me compliments.  “It was not a pleasant experience.”

“My son will be arguing for his clients one day,” Carioca said, nodding to Akin.  “It’s a skill all should learn.”

“Magister Niven will teach you rhetoric later,” Dad said.  He was looking at Carioca, his eyes never moving from his rival’s face.  “We can train for the courtroom too, if you wish.”

I kept my face under tight control.  Carioca was right.  The Family Head would spend a lot of time in the courtrooms, supporting his clients.  It was a tradition that could not be gainsaid.  And yet, it wasn't something I ever wanted to do.  I didn't think Akin wanted to do it.

“Your friend definitely requires proper training,” Carioca added.  He shot my father an unreadable look.  “It would be our honour to arrange it, if she wishes.”

“Rose is one of my clients,” Dad said, stiffly.

“But we owe her too,” Carioca said.  Beside him, Akin shifted uncomfortably.  “It is a debt that needs to be repaid.”

“She’s young,” Dad said.  “And besides, she might need a favour from you one day.”

I saw ... something ... flash across Akin’s face.  I thought I understood.  In theory, Rose could accept patronage from both families, but - in practice - it would put her in an impossible position.  Clients were supposed to support their clients against their rivals ... which side would Rose be on?  And what would happen if she failed to support one of her patrons?

Better to have them repay her in some other form, I thought.  A gift, perhaps ...

“She might,” Carioca said.  It took me a moment to realise that he was answering Dad’s point.  “But I would prefer to repay the favour as soon as possible.  Perhaps she would appreciate marriage to a young man of good standing ...?”

He looked at me.  I frowned.

“Rose is not going to be old enough to marry for five years, sir,” I said.  “It’s far too early to be talking about her marriage.”

Particularly as she isn’t here, I added, silently.  I’d always known that my marriage would be discussed heavily by my parents before I was even consulted - if anyone wanted to marry a magic-less girl - but Rose had grown up in a different world.  She might not want to even consider marrying a stranger.

I forced myself to consider it.  Carioca was in a good position to arrange a very advantageous match for Rose, perhaps to a husband who would boost her social standing ... there were girls I knew who would have traded one of their eyes for such an offer.  But the marriage might well come with a sting in the tail ... and, in any case, Rose was far too young to even think about getting married.  It could wait.

“As you wish,” Carioca said.  He took another sip of his tea.  “There is, however, another matter that must be discussed.”

“Quite,” my father said.  He’d never been a fan of small talk.  “We do have to take the children back to school before sunset.”

Carioca nodded, then leaned forward.  “You have my Family Sword.  We want it back.”

Dad looked surprised.  I kicked myself, mentally.  I’d meant to tell him about the sword ... I hadn't meant to keep it a secret ... but it had slipped my mind.  I’d thought we could discuss it after the hearing, somewhere well away from prying ears.  But Akin had told his father ... I swallowed a word that would have had Mum washing my mouth out with soap.  I should have informed Dad at once.  He was not going to be happy.

He looked at me.  “Explain.”

I swallowed, hard.  “Magister Tallyman gave me an old sword - an Object of Power - to repair,” I told him.  “I succeeded--” - Dad’s eyebrows crawled up “--but no one could handle the sword until Akin touched it.  He was the only one who could lift it.”

Dad’s face went very still.  “Indeed?”

“Yes, Dad,” I said.  He was going to kill me.  Or ground me for the rest of my life.  Or ... I really should have told him.  He wasn't going to thank me for letting him get blindsided by his rival.  “It’s their Family Sword.”

He studied me for a long moment.  I didn't dare look away.  A Family Sword was literally priceless - or at least it had been, before I discovered my talents.  And yet, it was useless to anyone who didn't have a blood tie to the family.  No one could even move such a sword without being a relative.  I’d had to use a cradle of metal to move the sword into a box, then carry it upstairs to the dorm.

“We shall discuss this later,” he said, in a tone that froze my blood.  “Where did you get the blade?”

“Magister Tallyman gave it to me,” I said, again.

“That’s true, sir,” Akin said, hastily.  “We didn't know who owned the sword until I touched it.”

“We are not accusing your daughter of stealing the sword,” Carioca said, smoothly.  “However, as I’m sure you can understand, we want the sword back.”

“I see,” Dad said.  I could see the tension in his stance as he looked back at his rival.  I wondered if they could see it.  “How did you lose it?”

“The family records state it was lost during the House War between Rubén and Caldecott, two hundred years ago,” Carioca told us.  “It was never actually recovered.”

I forced myself to think.  That House War had been particularly bloody, if I recalled correctly.  House Rubén had been trying to force its way back to the top and House Caldecott had stood in the way.  Rubén had won, decisively.  The remnants of House Caldecott had fled the city, leaving their clients to make whatever terms they could with the victors.  But no one had ever mentioned a missing sword.

The blade was damaged, I recalled.  It was difficult to damage an Object of Power, particularly when it was in use, but ... someone might have done it.  Magister Tallyman had assumed that the owner had tried to remove a gemstone ... perhaps, instead, someone had done it deliberately, knowing it would render the sword useless.  One final burst of spite from the defeated house?

“One would assume you gave up ownership,” my father said, smoothly.  He seemed to have recovered, although I wasn't fooled.  I was in deep trouble.  Dad might just rethink his position on some of Great Aunt Stregheria’s suggested punishments.  “It certainly doesn't belong to you now.”

“But my son is the only one who can use it,” Carioca countered.  “The sword is ours.”

It certainly isn't any use to us, I thought.  Technically, it was mine; practically, Carioca was right.  The sword wasn't any use to me.  But Dad won’t want to give it up without a fight.

“You lost the blade, somehow,” Dad snapped.  “It’s Cat’s, now.”

Carioca looked at me.  “Name your price.”

Dad reached out and tapped my hand, hard enough to sting.  “We will consider the matter,” he said.  “But it isn't something that can be decided immediately.”

“The sword is ours,” Carioca repeated.  “And if you don’t hand it over, we will sue you for custody.”

You make it sound as though the sword is a child, I thought.

“You could try,” Dad said.  “But the chain of ownership was broken.”

I frowned.  Magister Tallyman hadn't known who’d originally owned the sword.  Or had he?  How much of what he'd told me had been true?  If he’d lied about that, what else had he lied about?  Was he a Caldecott?  Perhaps the last survivor of a dead house?  I considered it, then dismissed the thought as absurd.  Magister Tallyman certainly wasn’t old enough to have fought in the House War.  Maybe one of his ancestors had fought in the war.

He could have been one of the Caldecott clients, I thought.  Someone who changed his allegiance after the end of the war, but kept his mouth shut about the sword.

“I believe that a court may disagree with you,” Carioca pointed out.  “Who deliberately throws away a family sword?”

“We shall see,” Dad said.  “Do we have any other business?”

“Not at the moment,” Carioca said.  “Are you still planning to visit the Guardhouse?”

“Perhaps,” Dad said.  He stood.  “I’ll inform you of what, if anything, happens.”

I looked at Akin.  He met my eyes, just for a second.  I saw embarrassment, and horror, and something else clearly written on his face.  I doubted he’d known that his father intended to confront my father.  He would have warned me.  I thought he’d warn me.  Isabella would certainly not have warned me, just to watch us flail, but Akin had struck me as a decent person.  He still struck me as a decent person.  We’d been through too much together to simply become enemies overnight.

His father might not have told him what he had in mind, I thought.  I wasn't sure when Akin had been picked up from Jude’s, but he’d definitely been there over the last week.  He wouldn't have had many chances to talk to his father in private.  Akin might not even have mentioned the sword until today.

“Cat, come,” Dad said.

I rose and followed him out of the room.  It was clear he wasn't pleased.  I had to practically run to keep up with him as he reached the top of the stairs and strode down to the hall.  A handful of noblemen - all of lesser houses - were gathered at the bottom of the stairs.  They started babbling as soon as they saw us, calling out questions and requests for alliances and other things I didn't understand.  Dad barely slowed as he reached the bottom, forcing them to jump aside.  I followed in his wake, grimly aware I was in real trouble.  Dad had become patriarch because he was good at handling people.  Now, he was ploughing through them in his haste to get away.

“I need you to repair my family’s heirloom,” someone I vaguely recognised called.  “I will pay ...”

Dad glared at him.  “Later!”

The crowd parted.  Dad resumed his walk.  I followed him through the corridors and out into the warm autumn air.  Winter was coming, in theory, but Shallot wouldn't have snow for months to come.  I wondered if playing with the snow - and having snowball fights - would be more fun when I was wearing a protective charm or two, instead of being a sitting duck for every hex hurled in my general direction.  My distant cousin had managed to animate a string of what he called Snow Goons and send them out to do battle on his behalf.  I would have enjoyed it more if I’d been given a fair chance to play.

Dad spoke quickly to a guardsman, then waited outside Magus Court.  I tried to ignore the shocked looks we were getting from the staff, who’d probably expected more warning of our departure.  They’d get in trouble, under normal circumstances, if the carriage hadn't been ready for us ... now, I thought they’d be fine.  It was me who was in trouble.

The carriage came 'round from the back, the horses looking around with interest.  I stepped back as the carriage came to a halt, careful not to stand too close.  I’d never really liked horses, although Mum and Dad had insisted that I learnt to ride.  Alana had kept casting spells to make me fall off the poor beasts and land on my rear.  I fully intended to build a proper flying machine of my own, later on, and fly everywhere.  I’d already built one somewhat-working model.

“Get inside,” Dad ordered, as the valet opened the door.  His voice was sharp enough to cut lead.  “I’ll be along in a moment.”

I scrambled up and into the carriage, trying not to jump as the door was slammed closed .  Dad really wasn’t pleased.  I hadn't seen him so angry since ... since Alana had pulled a particularly nasty practical joke on one of our clients.  The poor guy had been badly shocked, to the point where he’d almost broken ties with us altogether.  Dad had practically threatened to disinherit her if she ever did anything like that again.  And now ...

The bench was cushioned, but it felt hard as I sat.  I wished I’d brought a book or something to distract me, but I doubted that anything would distract me.  Dad was angry ... and he was right to be angry.  I’d inadvertently caused him a serious problem.  The butterflies in my stomach were getting worse, even though we were leaving Magus Court.  I was tempted to clamber out of the coach and sneak back to school.  Dad could hardly get madder at me.

Of course he can, I told myself.  You were kidnapped once, from one of the most heavily-warded buildings in the country, and now you’re planning to walk out alone?

I flinched as the door opened.  Dad climbed into the coach and sat down opposite me.  A moment later, the carriage shook and rattled away from Magus Court.  It wouldn't be long before we were back at Jude’s.  Unless Dad had somewhere else he wanted to go, or just told the driver to take the long way back to the school.  He’d need plenty of time to give me the telling-off of my life.

I sucked in my breath.  It was time to face the music.

Chapter Five

“Start from the beginning,” Dad commanded.  His eyes were fixed on me. “Where did the sword come from?”

“Magister Tallyman,” I said.  I’d told him that already, hadn't I?  Did Dad think I’d lied to Akin and his father?  Or him?  “He said he didn't know where the sword came from originally.”

Dad’s brow furrowed.  He didn't look convinced.  “And he just gave it to you?”

“He said I could try to repair it,” I told him.  “And if I succeeded in repairing the sword, I could keep it.”

“I see,” Dad said, in the same tone he’d used when my sisters and I had tried to talk ourselves out of trouble with a wild and unbelievable story.  “And you had no idea it belonged to them?”

“There wasn't a crest on the sword,” I recalled.  “Dad ... it could be his mother’s family sword, not his father’s.”

“They’d still have a claim on the blade,” Dad said.  His voice hardened.  “Why didn't you tell me?”

I winced.  “I ... I didn't want to write it down,” I said.  “I planned to tell you after ... after the hearing.  I didn't think Akin would tell his father.”

Dad gave me a sharp look.  “And would you not have told me, if things had been reversed?”

I made a face.  Would I have kept my mouth shut if I’d rediscovered a long-lost family heirloom?  And a sword, blood-bonded to my family?  A sign of our bloodline as well as a weapon of tremendous power?  I wanted to think I wouldn't have betrayed my friend for my family, but I was honest enough to admit that I might have had no choice.  Fundamentally, Akin’s father had a point.  The sword was theirs.

“I might have done,” I said.  “I ...”

“You should have done,” Dad said, sharply.  “An Object of Power that belongs to us, by rights?  Yes, you should have told me.  And Akin should have told his father.  And that allowed him to blindside me.”

I lowered my eyes.  “I’m sorry.”

“So you should be,” Dad said.  He sounded more reflective than angry.  I wasn’t reassured.  “You do realise that this changes everything?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“There are thousands of broken Objects of Power lying around,” Dad added.  “How long will it be before their owners start asking you to repair them?”

I said nothing.  It was sheer luck I’d been able to repair the sword.  If the spellform had collapsed violently, when the gemstone had been removed, the remainder of the sword might have been rendered irreparable.  Another Object of Power might be impossible to repair, assuming I could figure out how to repair it.  I’d been able to work out how to save the sword, but some of the other Objects of Power?  It would take months, perhaps years, to even work out where to begin.

Dad had another concern.  “And merely repairing one or more of those broken Objects of Power will shift the balance of power,” he warned.  “There are factions that would react violently to any suggestion that they should be repaired.”

I swallowed, hard.  “We ... we could just give them the sword.”

My father snorted, rudely.  “I suspect they wouldn't want us to just give them anything,” he said.  “They’d be happier finding a way to force us to surrender it.  The obligation we could demand in exchange for the sword ...”

He shook his head.  “You are not to let them have it, understand? “

I hesitated.  If I simply gave the sword to Akin ...

Dad tapped my shoulder.  “You are not to let them have it,” he repeated.  “Not until we work out a way to use it, or at least defuse the problems mere possession of the sword will cause us.  Perhaps we can work out some form of trade.”

He met my eyes.  “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Dad,” I said, sullenly.

I took a breath.  “Dad ... this feud needs to stop.”

Dad made a strangled sound.  It took me a moment to realise he was trying not to laugh.

“I quite agree,” he said.  “But, right now, we’re on top.  They will never be satisfied being second best.”

He leaned back against the wood.  “The sword changes things,” he said.  “If we just give them the blade, as you suggested, it will imply that they’re supplicants, coming to us for succour.  It will practically make them our clients.  They will want - they will need - to find a way to balance the scales.  But what can they give us that matches the sword?”

“Perhaps they have a broken Object of Power I could repair, one they could give to us in exchange,” I said.  “Would that not maintain the balance?”

“Perhaps,” Dad echoed.  “But there’s another problem.  Tensions have been rising, as you are well aware.  We may be looking at another House War.  And if we are ... I really don't want to give them the wretched sword!”

I swallowed, hard.  “They’re not going to fight us!”

“They’re an immensely competitive family,” Dad said, wryly.  “They’re not going to accept us as their betters indefinitely.”

I wanted to argue, but I knew he had a point.  Isabella was immensely competitive, even after I’d bested her in a duel.  And Akin wasn't so showy about it, but he was competitive too.  I didn't want to believe that he’d continue the feud, if he succeeded his father as patriarch, yet he might not have a choice.  Too many of his relatives and clients would demand that he make a bid for supremacy.

And if they had the sword ...

I felt sick.  I didn't know precisely what the sword could do - its full powers would only manifest for its wielder - but I knew what other such blades could do.  Cut through wards as if they didn't exist, slice through armour as though it was butter, slash hexes and curses out of the air ... even protect their wielder from offensive magic.  It wouldn't have been a significant threat in the days of the Thousand-Year Empire, but now ... it could give House Rubén a significant advantage.  And if the blade had some of the more mythical powers ... it could win them the war.

“It gets worse,” Dad told me.  “Remember last year?  They believed ... they believed there was something wrong with our bloodline.  Our clients were even starting to get cold feet.”

“Because of me,” I said, numbly.

“I’m afraid so,” Dad said.  He rested his hand on my shoulder, just for a second.  “They thought ... they thought that they had an opening to displace us.  Now ... thanks to you ... we are stronger than we’ve ever been.  But it will take time for that power to manifest.  That gives them a chance to bring us down before you can really come into play.”

“They might lose,” I pointed out.

“They will lose anyway, once you start mass-producing Objects of Power,” Dad pointed out, curtly.  “Even a handful of new Objects of Power - the really legendary Objects of Power - would change the world.  Carioca may not want to start something, but you can bet your allowance that his relatives will.  It’s quite possible that one of his relatives was behind the kidnapping, Cat.  Akin’s death wouldn't necessarily have been a bad thing for them.”

“Because their own children might inherit,” I said.  Traditionally, each successive patriarch had to come from each successive generation.  “Or ... they might have a chance to inherit themselves.”

“Quite,” Dad said.  “And I’m sure they’ve convinced themselves that Carioca would approve, if he knew about it.”

“He swore an oath,” I reminded him.

“Yes,” Dad agreed.  “But if he doesn’t know he’s lying, the oath won’t bite him.”

It wasn't a pleasant thought.  I’d had the dangers of reckless oath-taking drilled into me since I started my education in magic.  Deliberately cheating an oath wasn't easy.  One could evade the letter of the oath, but still fall prey to the spirit.  And yet ... someone who didn't know they were cheating an oath would get away with it, even if they found out the truth afterwards.  Carioca might just suspect the truth, but not do anything to uncover it ...

But his only son was kidnapped, I reminded myself.  He can’t take that calmly, can he?

I met his eyes.  “This has to stop.”

“I quite agree,” Dad said.  “Now ... how do you plan to make it stop?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.  “But there has to be something.”

Dad smiled, humourlessly.  “I’m sure they’d accept a negotiated offer of surrender.”  His tone was as dry as dust.  “But I’m also sure you can understand why we won’t be offering one.”

“Yes, Dad.”

I looked down at my dark fingers.  Perhaps there was something ... but nothing came to mind.  We were on top and wanted to stay on top; they wanted to climb to the top themselves, which would mean pushing us down.  And if they thought they were on the verge of losing ...

“Maybe I should just ... go away,” I said, miserably.  I didn't want to leave the city, but if it kept the peace ... Rose and I could sail away to somewhere that had never heard of my family.  “If there was no prospect of more Objects of Power ...”

“They know the secret now,” Dad reminded me, quietly.  “The search for other Zeroes has already begun.”

I didn't look up.  “It will take them time to train, surely?”

“Yes, it will,” Dad said.  “But they’ll have every incentive to learn.”

I groaned to myself.  He was right.  It was only a matter of time until someone discovered another Zero.  And then ... the balance of power would shift, once again.  I’d studied magical theory and forging for five years, but I’d wasted a lot of time trying to spark power I didn't have.  Someone who actually knew what they were might be able to learn the ropes far faster than myself.  Whoever was the first to find a second Zero would be well placed to learn from my experiences.

They may already have found one, I thought.  House Rubén presumably hadn't, or they wouldn't be so concerned about the balance of power, but they weren’t the only Great House in Shallot.  House Alidade or House Bolingbroke could give us a run for our money if they secured a Zero of their very own.  And there would be outsiders too.  What happens when Galashiels and Balamory find a Zero?

“I have seriously considered simply pulling you out of Jude’s,” Dad said.  “The only reason I let you return to the school, after you were kidnapped, was because ... others had an interest in keeping you where they could see you.  You’re not forging half-forgotten weapons from the mythical past when you’re attending classes and sneaking grub out of the kitchens for midnight feasts.”

“It was only once,” I protested.

“You’ll have to work harder,” Dad said.  He smiled.  For a moment, he looked almost like his old self.  “I had four midnight feasts in my first year alone.”

I shrugged.  The first and last midnight feast had ended in disaster.  Isabella had betrayed us ... I thought she’d betrayed us.  She’d been the most logical suspect, but her reaction - in hindsight - suggested she was innocent.  Perhaps Rose and I had simply had a stroke of bad luck.  Or someone else had caught wind of what we were planning and tipped off the upperclassmen.  Or ... maybe the upperclassman who’d caught us had been lying.  It wouldn’t be the first time.

And if people are pressuring Dad to keep me in school, I thought as the true meaning of his words sank in, what will they pressure him to do next?

Dad leaned forward, his face hardening.  “You should have told me about the sword at once,” he said.  “If ... if it happens again, I expect you to tell me immediately.  The Castellan will get a secure message to me.  There won’t be any danger of anyone intercepting it.  What you did ... what you did was stupid.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.  I didn't blame him for being angry.  I’d inadvertently caused him a serious problem.  “I won’t do it again.”

“I should hope not,” Dad said.  He met my eyes.  “If you’d done that as an adult, Cat, you would probably have been disowned.  The family council would insist on formally stripping you of any ties to the family.  They wouldn't want to take the risk of you doing something even more careless.  If you had children ... they would probably have been removed from your care.  As it is, I honestly don’t know how to punish you.”

I felt miserable.  Tears prickled at the corner of my eyes.  It wasn't fair.  I’d disappointed him for years ... and now, when I’d finally made him proud of me, I’d disappointed him again.  I bit my lip, hard, to keep it from wobbling.  I would sooner have been grounded for life - or forced to spend the summer holidays working in the gardens - than face my father’s disappointment one final time.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated.  I could feel the tears running down my cheeks.  “Dad, I ...”

“My father told me that the difference between childhood and adulthood was that the adult often ended up having to deal with the consequences of his actions for the rest of his life,” Dad mused.  He sounded as though he was talking to himself, rather than me.  “The adult cannot be punished and then forgiven.  He has to live with what he did, forever.”

He looked down at me.  “You might have to live with what you did too,” he said.  “And I can't protect you from it.”

“It isn't fair,” I muttered.

“The world isn’t fair.”  Dad sounded surprisingly sympathetic.  “You can do everything right, Cat, and still lose.  And something done in total innocence can still come back to haunt you.”

He reached out and squeezed my hand, then removed a handkerchief from his robes and held it out to me.  I took it and wiped my eyes, trying to calm myself.  I didn’t like crying, considering how often my sisters had made fun of me for it.  And yet, there was a lump in my throat that refused to go away.

“Parents are supposed to protect their children, Cat,” Dad said.  “And I have failed you.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I said, as reassuringly as I could.  I didn't like Dad tearing himself apart with self-reproach.  I’d almost sooner have him shouting at me.  “Dad, you didn't know ...”

Dad’s face twisted.  “I know,” he said.  “And I also know you didn't know who originally owned the sword.  But that won’t keep you and I from having to deal with the consequences of our mistakes.  Or the fact that our fates may not be in our own hands.”

Because the Crown Prince is involved, I thought.  And through him, the King.

I looked down at my hands.  “Is there nothing we can do?”

“Not yet,” Dad said.  He sounded frustrated.  His hands were twisting in his lap, a sure sign of agitation.  “If we knew who’d backed the kidnappers ...”

I nodded in agreement.  Whoever had kidnapped Akin and I had made an enemy out of both houses.  And none of the other Great Houses would be happy at the thought of children being kidnapped from Jude’s.  The kidnappers had risked angering the entire city, just to obtain a handful of Objects of Power.  There was no way they could sell them now, not when everyone knew what had happened.  They must have had something else in mind.

And those Objects of Power are still out there, somewhere, I reminded myself.  Fairuza might have chased us across the countryside, but her allies had had plenty of time to remove the Objects of Power and destroy the evidence before the Kingsmen arrived.  What are they doing with them?

“Be very careful, Cat,” Dad warned.  “If things had gone differently today ...”

I’d be in protective custody, I thought.  The Crown Prince wouldn't hurt me, I thought, but I’d be a prisoner again.  Or worse.

I looked up, forcing myself to meet his eyes.  I didn’t want to know, but I had to ask.  “How ... how are you going to punish me?”

Dad gave me a regretful look.  “I told you,” he said.  “You’ll have to live with the consequences of what you did.  And so will the rest of us.”

He patted my shoulder.  “It’s called growing up too soon,” he added, softly.  “And I would spare you, if I could.”

I sighed as the carriage lurched around a corner.  I was lucky, compared to lesser family ... and commoners.  They went into service at a very young age, living below stairs and trading their services for low wages and an education they couldn't hope to afford.  They never really had a chance to be children.  But me?  I’d never had to work a day in my life, save for when my parents had assigned chores as punishment.  I had never felt lucky, but now ... I thought I understood.  Rose had known all along.

“I understand,” I said.  I wanted him to know that, if nothing else.  “And I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” Dad said.

The carriage lurched to a halt.  Moments later, the valet started fumbling with the door.  I hastily wiped my eyes again, checking my appearance in the mirror someone had concealed in one of my pockets.  I didn't look as though I’d been crying, but it was clear I’d been upset.  The valet would probably notice too, unfortunately.  He’d been trained to notice the little details.  There was no point in trying to slip anything past him.

“We’re here.”  Dad stood, as the door opened.  “Brace yourself.  This isn't going to be pleasant.”

Chapter Six

The smell struck me the moment I jumped out of the carriage, the faint stench of vaporised potions mingled with fear and despair.  I wrinkled my nose, then looked up at the towering building in front of me, my eyes widening with surprise as I realised where we were.  I’d never been to the Hospice, and Dad hadn't told me we were going now, but I’d heard the stories.  The healers who worked at the Hospice handled everything, from common colds to curses, hexes and strange diseases from the far side of the Great Ocean.  My mother had worked at the Hospice for a year, after she obtained her mastery.  She’d told me that it was an exciting place to work.

“This way,” Dad said.  “Stay close to me.”

I followed behind him as he strode through the gates, down the driveway and into the giant building.  A handful of guards stood by the desk, their faces hidden behind silver armour; they tilted their heads towards us, but made no move to prevent us from walking through the inner door.  My amulet grew warm as we passed them, warning me they were probing us with spells.  They would have blocked our path if we weren't permitted to enter.

Dad led me straight to a stairwell that led down into the earth.  My amulet grew warm, again and again, as we passed a whole series of powerful wards.  The Hospice was clearly determined to keep its patients inside and any unwanted intruders outside.  I hadn't sensed so many wards at Magus Court.  The Hospice took security seriously.

I caught up with Dad as we reached the bottom of the stairs.  “Where are we going?”

“A secure ward,” Dad said.  A solid metal door, covered with nasty-looking runes, opened to allow us to proceed.  “Normally, someone your age would never be permitted to come here.”

I looked at his retreating back.  “So why did you bring me here?”

“You’ll see,” Dad said.  “This place has a special guest.”

My amulet heated, again, as we passed through another metal door.  A grim-faced healer nodded to us from behind the desk, then pointed to an open doorway.  Dad glanced at me, then led the way to the doorway and peered inside.  I followed, wondering if I should be ready for anything.  The room was simple: a bed, a set of chairs and a single glowing orb of light, floating high overhead.  And in the bed ...

I sucked in my breath.  Fairuza!  I could only see her face - her body was concealed under a sheet - but it couldn't be anyone else.  Her eyes were open, staring up at the ceiling.  I tensed, half-expecting her to sling a curse at me, but she didn't move.  She was so immobile that I wondered, just for a moment, if she’d been frozen.  And then I realised that her breasts were rising and falling as she breathed in and out.

A healer stepped up behind me.  “Thank you for bringing Cat,” he said, as he stepped into the room.  “I’ll help her to sit up.”

Dad rested his hand on my shoulder, holding me steady, as the healer stepped up to the bed and lifted Fairuza into a sitting position.  Her body flopped, as if she’d been turned into a stuffed toy.  The healer was a strong man, but he had to fight to keep her upright.  I almost felt sorry for her, despite everything she’d done.  She’d lost everything.

Her eyes met mine, just for a second.  I recoiled in shock.  There was nothing there: no anger, no fear, no disdain ... nothing.  Fairuza’s mind must be gone, leaving behind a discarded body.  I swallowed, hard, as Fairuza flopped forward.  She hadn't shown any reaction to me at all.

I found my voice.  “What happened to her?”

“Everything has been wiped,” the healer said.  He carefully placed Fairuza back on the bed, then drew up the sheet to preserve her modesty.  “And I mean everything.  She’s little better than a newborn baby.  Her memories haven't been locked away, we think; they’ve been wiped so completely that she doesn't even recall how to take care of herself.  We’ve tried a handful of techniques that are normally successful in retrieving locked memories, but ... we don't think the memories are there to recover.”

“I told you that,” Dad said, quietly.

My mouth was dry.  Dad had told me that, but I hadn't understood.  Not really.  I knew there were memory charms, of course, but they just made it impossible to recall something.  And they could be circumvented, if the victim realised he’d been charmed and started probing the gap in his memories.  Dad had made us all learn the technique, back when we’d started to study magic.  I’d actually been better at it than my sisters.

But Fairuza ... Fairuza was gone.

“We hoped the sight of you would spark something in her,” Dad added.  “But she showed no reaction.”

The healer nodded.  “There wasn't even a jump in her vitals,” he agreed.  “She’s gone.”

I forced myself to swallow.  “What ... what will happen to her?”

“She’ll probably spend the rest of her life here,” the healer told me.  “There’s no way she can stand trial for her crimes.  The mind healers will try to teach her how to live again, but she’ll be starting from scratch.  I don’t know if she’ll ever be normal.”

“A child in a woman’s body,” I muttered.

The healer had sharp hearing.  “Correct,” he said.  “And there is no way she can ever lead a normal life.”

I reached for my spectacles and put them on.  Instantly, the room was awash in light.  Fairuza was surrounded by a dozen wards, just waiting for her to do something stupid.  I could see enough of the spellforms to know that she wouldn't have a chance to cast a single spell before they froze her solid.  Other spells floated nearby, monitoring everything from brain activity to her heartbeat.  And Fairuza herself ... there were no spells on her person at all.

They would have stripped her wards and protections the moment they captured her, I thought.  The Kingsmen wouldn't have wanted Fairuza to wake up until they were ready to deal with her.  And now she’s got nothing.

I tried to move closer, but Dad’s grip tightened, preventing me from moving.  There was no point in trying to argue.  Besides, the wards surrounding the bed might snap at anyone who entered without permission.  I took one last look, but saw nothing.  Fairuza had a great deal of magic potential, yet she didn't appear to have any active magic.  Or anything.

“There’s nothing for us here,” Dad said.  He nodded to the healer.  “We thank you.”

“You are welcome, My Lord,” the healer said.  He bowed to my father, than to me. “And thank you for trying.”

I returned my spectacles to the pouch as we retraced our steps, then looked at Dad.  “Will we do anything to her?”

“It might be interesting to try to figure out what potion was used to wipe her mind so thoroughly,” Dad said, absently.  “But countering it may prove impossible.”

I nodded.  I was sure there was nothing left in Fairuza’s mind to recover.  She barely seemed to remember how to breathe.  I suspected she’d need help to go to the toilet.  Perhaps she was in diapers ... I would have laughed at the thought, if I hadn't known it was deadly serious.  This was no practical joke.  Fairuza, to all intents and purposes, was dead.

We might as well try to bring back the dead, I thought.  There were always stories of magicians resurrecting the dead, but none of them had ever been confirmed.  You can't undo a spell that kills the body - or the mind.

He said nothing else until we were back in the carriage.  “I’ll take you back to the school now,” he said.  “Please extend my apologies to Rose for sending her back early.”

“I will,” I said.  It had been impolite to send Rose back, but I was relieved that she hadn't been there to witness Dad’s cold anger.  “What else do you want me to do?”

“Just ... try to act normally,” Dad said.  He leaned against the wooden panelling as the carriage lurched into motion.  “I know ... it won’t be easy.”

“No,” I agreed.  “Will I ... will I be called to testify again?”

“I don’t think so,” Dad said.  “I filed a fairly strong brief arguing that you and your friends are underage, thus you shouldn't be questioned repeatedly.  So did Carioca, to give the man his due.  The Crown Prince may want to talk to you again, but legally he has to go through us first.  I’ll make sure you have plenty of warning.”

If you can, I thought.  The hearing had been set up before we'd even escaped, with the intention of determining precisely how Rolf and his friends had managed to snatch us out of the school.  It had changed, rapidly, as soon as we’d made it back home.  The Crown Prince may not give you the time.

I looked down at the carpet below my feet.  “What if he tries to talk to us without you?”

“Legally, he can’t.”  Dad frowned as if the thought hadn't occurred to him.  “If he does, inform him that you want your father to be present.  Make sure Rose knows to ask for me too.”

I smiled.  “Perhaps you and Carioca should both patronise Rose,” I said.  “It would make it harder for you two to fight.”

Dad smiled back.  “Rose isn't important enough to balance the houses,” he said.  “If she was another Zero ...”

“I know,” I said, feeling a trace of the old resentment.  Rose had power, but as yet no skill; I had skill, yet no power.  But ... I had another source of power.  I’d never be able to snap my fingers and turn someone into a frog, but I could build Objects of Power that could.  “It was just a thought.”

“And not a bad one,” Dad said.  “Just ... impractical.”

He cleared his throat.  “There’s one other matter I wanted to raise with you,” he added.  “I want you to talk to your sister.”

I froze.  I knew which sister he meant.

“I don’t want to talk to Alana,” I said.  She’d left me alone since we returned from the Eternal City and I was grateful.  Maybe she couldn't hex me at will any longer.  That didn't mean I wanted to spend more time with her than I had to.  “Dad ...”

Dad held up his hand.  “I understand she hasn't made your life very easy,” he said.  “But she was shocked, honestly shocked, when you were kidnapped.  If she hadn't given us that blood sample ...”

“She got that sample by tearing an earring out of my ear,” I said, savagely.  Too late, I remembered I wasn't going to tattle.  I’d already deflected Dad’s questions about precisely where the blood sample had come from.  “Dad, I ... I already took revenge.”

Dad frowned.  “You and Alana have to grow up,” he said.  “You can't spend the rest of your life at daggers drawn.”

I started to giggle, hysterically.  Alana had spent six years humiliating me in every way she could imagine, just because I didn't have magic.  My mere existence weakened her claim to the matriarchy.  After all, if there was something wrong with me, perhaps there was something wrong with her too.  And then - and then - she’d discovered that I had a gift of my own, and she’d started to envy me instead.  She still resented me.  She still hated me.

“She hates me,” I said.

“If she hated you, she wouldn't have given me the blood sample,” Dad pointed out.  “I could have forced her to tell me precisely how she took it.”

I didn't want to admit it, but he had a point.  Taking a blood sample without permission was a serious crime.  Alana had taken a considerable risk when she’d handed it over to Dad, knowing that he might force her to admit what she’d done and then punish her.  Dad would not have been amused.  A blood sample in the wrong hands could be used for all sorts of nastiness.

Perhaps that was what she had in mind, I thought.  I wasn’t sure if a spell keyed to my blood would get through my protections - and I wasn't even sure if it would affect me, given my lack of magic - but I didn't want to find out the hard way.  She wouldn't have kept the blood if her intentions were pure.

I looked down at my hands again, searching for words.  Too much had passed between Alana and I for me to feel comfortable opening up to her.  She’d made it clear that when - not if - she inherited the matriarchy, she’d banish me.  Or do worse.  I’d been defenceless, more or less.  She could have turned me into an animal or a statue and used a Device of Power to keep me that way.  I would sooner have turned my back on Isabella than Alana.

“She was horrible,” I muttered.  It wasn't fair, again.  “Dad, I can't ...”

“I failed to curb her behaviour,” Dad told me.  “I believed that it would be for the best, in the long run, if you learnt to defend yourself ...”

“I couldn't defend myself,” I snapped.  “I had no magic!”

“I know that, now,” Dad said.  His voice was calm.  Too calm.  “Cat ... I understand that I’ve made mistakes.  I’ve made a lot of mistakes.  You have no idea just how many mistakes I made when I was only a few years older than you.  Alana ... she’s young.  She has a chance to grow out of her ...”

I looked up.  “Horribleness?”

“Exactly,” Dad said.  “Please.  Try to talk to her.”

I groaned.  I was nervous about talking to Bella, let alone Alana.  I’d ... I’d even invited Bella to join our little revision club.  But Alana?  I’d be frightened to turn my back on her.  She was smart as well as unpleasant.  She’d figured out the problem with using earrings - and turned it against me - before it had ever occurred to me.  And I was the forger.

But I couldn't refuse.  “I’ll try,” I promised, with the quiet understanding that I’d try as little as possible.  “If she’s still a spiteful--” I took a look at Dad’s face and hastily revised the next word “--witch, I won’t try anymore.”

“That is all I can ask,” Dad said.  “I did have a word with her, after your talents were discovered.”

That wasn't enough to convince her to be nice to me, I thought, sourly.  That had been before she’d ripped an earring out of my ear and left me bleeding.  What would convince her to behave herself?

“I’ll try,” I promised, again.  “But I don’t know if I can ever forgive her.”

“You forgave Bella,” Dad said.

“Bella didn't torment me for six years,” I reminded him.  Bella had hexed me a few times, but her heart hadn't really been in it.  She’d been more interested in satisfying her greed than making my life miserable.  “And she’s discovered she needs to study to pass her exams.”

“Quite,” Dad said.  The hint of desperation in his voice silenced the remainder of my protests.  “Please try, Cat.  I can ask no more.”

I nodded.  It seemed a good moment to press for a favour of my own.  “Dad ... can Rose stay with us for the summer?”

“She may want to go see her parents, you know,” Dad reminded me.  He gave me a look that suggested he knew perfectly well what I was doing.  “But yes, if she wants to stay she will be welcome.”

I let out a breath.  It would have been easy for Dad to say no.  Mum wouldn't object to Rose staying, but some of our relatives definitely would.  They’d expect Mum and Dad to spend their time with their children, not a common-born girl with no family connections worth mentioning.  But Rose had saved my life.  I owed her.  We owed her.

“Thank you, Dad.”

Dad nodded, then glanced at his watch.  “It’s nearly dinnertime,” he said.  “Make sure you get plenty of rest, Cat.  You’ll be starting classes again tomorrow.  And exams aren’t that far away.”

I shrugged.  There was no point in taking the exams, as far as I could tell.  I could ace theory, but never practicals.  The examiners would have to revise the entire curriculum to give me a chance to succeed.  Or accept that I was allowed to de facto cheat.  The Castellan had told me that chunks of the curriculum would be changed for me, but so far I hadn't heard anything beyond a handful of minor suggestions.  The revisions were probably still in committee.

“I have to do some revision,” I said.  I probably didn't have to do it, but Mum and Dad had hammered the importance of proper preparation into my head from a very early age.  Besides, I might see Akin in the library.  I wanted to talk to him desperately.  “I’ll probably go to the library after dinner.”

“Very good,” Dad said.  If he knew what I had in mind, he said nothing.  The carriage lurched to a halt.  “Try to change first.”

I made a face.  The dress was already getting grimy.  The magic had faded, the sewn runes slowly coming undone.  Even the colouring looked somewhat diminished.  I made a mental note of the rough timings for later reference, then smoothed the blue fabric down as the valet opened the door.  We were back in the courtyard, where we’d started.  It felt as though I’d been gone for days.

“Cat,” Dad said.  I looked up at him.  “Be careful.”

He gave me a tight hug.  I hugged him back.

“I’ll be very careful,” I promised.  “And thank you.”

Dad gave me a bleak look.  “For what?”

Chapter Seven

Rose had already changed back into her school uniform, I discovered when I returned to the dorms.  She was sitting on her bed, looking a great deal more comfortable as she slowly parsed one of the textbooks she’d borrowed from the library a few days after our return.  I waved to her as I entered, then hurriedly pulled the drapes around my bed so I could change in privacy.  The dress looked strikingly drab, the blue almost completely gone.  I placed it on the bed for later attention and pulled on my weekend dress, then stepped back out from behind the drapes.  Rose looked as tired as I felt.

“Sir Griffons got me back safely,” she said.  “And everyone wanted to know what happened.”

I winced in sympathy.  The entire story would be all over the city by now.  I was sure I’d seen broadsheet writers in the balcony.  The Crown Prince might try to keep a lid on rumours, but that would only make them worse.  Everyone who was anyone had been at the hearing, along with their senior clients.  They’d have no trouble putting out a fairly trustworthy version of events.

“I didn't tell them anything,” Rose added.  “I wasn't sure what I should say.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I told her.  “They’ll know the full story soon enough.”

I glanced from side to side, making sure that the remainder of the dorm was empty, then leaned forward.  “Have you seen Akin?”

“No,” Rose said.  “He was with you, wasn't he?”

“We had to leave,” I said, reluctantly.  I’d assumed Akin’s father had taken him straight back to Jude’s.  Perhaps they’d gone to eat first.  “He’ll be back tonight, won’t he?”

Rose shot me an odd look.  “You’re asking me?”

I looked down.  “Sorry.”

“He’ll be back for classes tomorrow, surely,” Rose said, reassuringly.  “His father wouldn't keep him back.”

“I hope not,” I said.  I really needed to talk to him.  “I ...”

The dinner bell rang.  I straightened and waited for her to grab her blazer before we headed down.  A handful of other girls poured out of the dorms and joined us as we walked down the stairs, but the majority of students would be in the Arena.  The hearing wouldn't have put a stop to sports.  Besides, it was Sunday.  Dining times were a little more flexible on the weekend.

I looked around for Akin - or Magister Tallyman - as we entered the dining hall, but there was no sign of either of them.  We took our trays of food and found a place at the firstie table, then sat down to eat.  I was all too aware of older students watching me, perhaps trying to determine just what had happened during the hearing.  If I was any judge, a whole string of absurd rumours had already wafted through the school.  I couldn't help wondering how much money was already changing hands.  The smarter students might have bet on us being taken into protective custody.

“This is good food,” Rose said, between bites.  “But it’s too fancy.”

I shrugged.  I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was bland, compared to the food I had at home.  I wouldn't be the only one to think it was bland, too.  But I wasn't going to spoil it for her.  She would be lucky to get half as much to eat when she went back home.  Unless she stayed with us ...

She won’t fit in with her family any longer, I thought grimly.  And yet, she won’t fit in here either.

I ate my food quietly, slowly gathering my thoughts as I watched for Akin.  But there was still no sign of him.  Alana entered, her face as sharp as ever; I remembered my promise to Dad, then decided it could wait for a day or two.  I wasn't in the mood to trade barbs with my sister.  Her eyes flickered over us for a second, then she turned away.  I watched her go with a mixture of relief and regret.

“I’m going for seconds,” Rose announced.  “Do you want more?”

I shook my head.  “I’ll wait for you,” I said, as I pulled my notebook out of my pocket and laid it on the table.  “Eat what you want.”

Rose nodded and walked off, taking her plate.  I found a pencil and started to sketch out what I’d seen at Magus Court, drawing out the translucent spellform pervading the giant fairytale castle.  It was fascinatingly complex, almost beyond my ability to comprehend.  No matter how I looked at it, I couldn't see any way to duplicate it alone.  I definitely needed more than a handful of other Zeros.

Which raises the question of what happened to Tyros’s peers, I thought.  If Tyros had survived the fall of the Eternal City, surely others could have survived as well.  They might not even have been in the city when it fell.  I doubted they’d been recalled for the celebrations when their mere existence was a secret.  Why didn't they try to rebuild?

I puzzled over it for a long moment while Rose ate her second plateful, then decided there was no point in wondering.  Tyros had died nearly a thousand years ago.  The others wouldn't have lasted much longer, if at all.  It made me wonder if some had been living and working in Shallot during the Civil Wars.  But surely they would have traded the knowledge of how to produce Objects of Power for shelter and protection.  The City Fathers would have understood the importance of what they were being offered.

“I won’t ever know,” I muttered.

Rose glanced at me.  “What?”

“I’ll tell you later,” I said.  She’d almost finished her meal.  I poured myself a glass of water and waited for her to finish the last bites.  “Shall we go?”

I took one last look around the hall as we handed our plates back to the staff.  The room had filled while I’d been working, but there was still no sign of Akin.  I gritted my teeth in frustration - I doubted his sister would take a message for me - and followed Rose out of the chamber.  A handful of upperclassmen eyed her nastily, but said nothing.  They’d seen me follow her.

The stairwell felt oddly empty as we made our way up to the library.  I saw a couple of students hurrying down, but otherwise there was no one in sight.  I couldn't help feeling nervous, clutching the protective bracelet around my wrist as I looked from side to side.  But no threat materialised until we entered the library.  A grim-faced librarian was glaring at a second-year who’d dared to bring back an overdue library book.

“The study rooms are all reserved,” she called to us.  “You’ll have to use the tables at the back.”

“Reserved?  Now?”  Rose looked surprised.  “What’s happening?”

“The upperclassmen will be taking their mocks in a week or two,” I said.  I hadn't been following their schedule particularly closely, but we were coming up to exam season.  “If they do badly in the real exams, they can use the mocks to argue that they should get better grades.”

Rose lifted her eyebrows.  “And if they do worse in the mocks, does that mean they have to argue they should get worse grades?”

I had to laugh.  “For some reason, no one ever argues that,” I said.  I vaguely recalled Dad saying something about mock exams being used to catch cheats, but I hadn't been paying close attention.  Anyone clever enough to circumvent the anti-cheating spells on the examination rooms would probably be given a sharp kick up the backside and an automatic pass.  “It’s really a way to convince them that they have to study hard.”

“Oh,” Rose said, deadpan.  “Don’t they already know it?”

I shrugged.  “They’ve been at school for seven years,” I said.  “If they don’t know it by now ... well, this is their last chance.”

We collected a handful of books, then hurried over to find a table at the rear.  I didn't want to run into a stressed upperclassman, not when it would probably lead to us getting lines just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.  Rose opened the first book, then recovered her notebook and started to copy down a runic diagram.  I reached for a book on complex potions theory and started reading through the latest set of formulas.  Some were only theoretical.

But I might be able to create them, I thought.  I lacked the ability to infuse magic into the liquid directly, but I could forge an Object of Power that would produce a precise amount of magic for the potion.  There would be no risk of an explosion through accidentally overcharging the spell.  I wonder if I’ll be allowed to try ...

“I don't get this,” Rose said, as she drew out a second diagram.  “Why don’t the four runes go together?”

“Because they keep reversing the polarity of the magic flow,” I said, glancing at her work.  “Those two runes basically keep the magic flipping between them, rather than actually doing anything.  The other two actually make it worse, because they hold the first two in place.”

“But at least the runes won’t burn out,” Rose said.

“Not in a hurry,” I agreed.  “But you’re not going to be able to do anything with it either.”

“They could have said that in the textbook,” Rose grumbled.  “It kept implying that it was possible to make it work.”

I shrugged.  “It does work,” I said.  “It just doesn't actually do anything.”

“I am too tired for that to make sense,” Rose said, rubbing her forehead.  “Why even bother drawing the diagram in the first place?”

“Same reason we brew useless potions,” I pointed out.  “The idea is to practice our skills, rather than just cast magic.  If the runes weren't perfect, the entire diagram would come apart very quickly.”

Although you could probably use it to store magic, I thought, slowly.  And if you built something to channel the magic afterwards ...

I considered it for a long moment, then dismissed the thought.  The trick was workable, but there were other - better - ways to conserve and store magic.  They just didn't last very long without constant maintenance.  Unless ... I wondered, absently, just what I could do if I built an Object of Power designed to store magic.  It wouldn't be difficult.

Footsteps echoed towards me, loud enough to break into my thoughts.  I looked up, feeling a flicker of hope.  Akin?  No, it was a fourth-year girl with a freckled face and plaited brown hair that was slowly starting to turn grey.  I blinked, torn between surprise and disappointment.    Grey hair on a fifteen-year-old?  A curse?  I found it hard to believe that it was a fashion statement.

“Caitlyn,” she said.  “I’m Val.  Pleased to meet you.”

“And you,” I said, automatically.  She was strikingly forward.  Not someone raised in a Great House, then.  “What can I do for you?”

“Actually, I was wondering if I could ask you for a quote,” she said.  “I’m currently writing a story about the brawl in the hearing and if you ...”

I frowned.  “The brawl?”

“Sure,” Val said.  “The brawl in front of King Rufus.”

Rose snickered.  I had to look down until I was sure my face was under control.  “There was no brawl,” I managed.  It was hard to talk clearly.  “And King Rufus wasn't there either.”

Val’s face fell.  “You’re sure?”

“I was there,” I reminded her.  “And ... what do you want to do with the story, anyway?”

“I’m trying to get a post at one of the broadsheets,” Val said.  “And if you gave me an exclusive I could ...”

“Definitely not,” I said, flatly.  It made sense, I suppose, but I wasn't feeling inclined to cooperate.  There hadn’t been a brawl.  And the king hadn't been there either.  “I’m trying to study.  Please, could you go away?”

Val ignored me.  “It might be very useful to have the broadsheets on your side,” she insisted, firmly.  “A reporter who actually favoured you ...”

I shook my head.  No one in High Society paid any attention to the broadsheets, although they always seemed to know what was in them.  Val could write a story that was completely truthful and no one would believe it ... if, of course, she was allowed to publish it.  The truth just wasn't spectacular.  And besides, the readers would be more interested in the Crown Prince and his wife’s tour of the city.

“Please,” Val said.  “I ...”

A bulky upperclassman walked over, looking like a bear with a toothache.  “Are you bothering these students?”

Val reddened.  “I ...”

“Go back to your dorm and write five hundred lines,” the upperclassman snapped.  “I will not bother students who are trying to revise.  Hand them in tomorrow evening.”

I felt a flicker of pity.  Five hundred lines would take hours.  Val would have an aching wrist by the time she was finished.  And there would be no getting out of it either.  Even if the upperclassman forgot he'd ordered her to do the wretched lines, her punishment book would not forget.  I wasn't sure what would happen if she didn't do them, but I doubted it would be pleasant.

Val shot me a pleading look - I’m not sure what she thought I could do - and then slunk off in the direction of the door.  The upperclassman hesitated, looking strikingly awkward for a man of his bulk, then sat down on the far side of the table.

“I need a favour,” he said.  He looked at Rose.  “Scram.”

“Anything you say in front of me can be said in front of her,” I said, flatly.  I had the vague feeling that I’d met the upperclassman before, but I couldn't remember where.  Probably one of Dad’s tedious dinner parties.  In any case, I wasn't in the mood to let him push me and my friends around.  “What do you want?”

“I need you to forge me an Object of Power,” he said.  “I will pay ...”

I tensed.  Rolf had lured me out of the school by convincing me to forge him an Object of Power.  I’d forged a number of small Objects of Power for various students, in exchange for future favours, but now ... I wasn't sure I wanted to do it again.  And yet, I hadn't had the chance to think about what I’d say when someone asked me - again - to make one.

“I don’t have the time right now,” I hedged.  I didn't want him getting angry and handing out lines.  “What exactly do you want?”

“I’ll tell you later,” the upperclassman said.  “But I will pay ...”

I shook my head.  “I don’t have time right now,” I said.  “I have to prepare for my exams.”

The upperclassman eyed me nastily.  “I can give you lines ...”

“Then you’ll get a selection of lines and no Object of Power,” I said, sharply.  If he wasn't prepared to tell me - and Rose - what he actually wanted, I doubted it would be anything good.  A couple of the requests I’d been given had been dubious, to say the least.  “I won't do you any favours if you try to force me.”

I watched him warily for a long moment.  He could give me lines ... or throw a punch at me.  I was stronger than the average firstie, thanks to the years I’d spent forging, but I doubted I was strong enough to best him.  Or he could try to hex me ... that would probably get him in trouble, if his hexes actually defeated my protections.  I was fairly sure they wouldn't.

“We will discuss it again when you are not so busy,” he said.  “Goodbye.”

He stomped off, earning himself a sharp shushing noise from the librarian.  I was surprised he had the sense to realise that trying to force me to do something - anything - for him would be pointless.  I wouldn't rat him out for dumping thousands of lines on me - or hundreds of detentions - but someone would notice and start asking pointed questions.  Who knew what would happen then?

Rose glanced at me as I settled back into my seat.  “What was all that about?”

“I have no idea,” I said.  I was going to have to think of something, though.  That upperclassman wouldn't be the last to ask for an Object of Power.  What was I going to tell someone intelligent enough to realise that the exams were pointless for me?  “I guess he wanted something illicit.”

“Another way to get out of the school?”  Rose stroked her chin, thoughtfully.  “Or maybe a weapon of some kind?”

“Or just a protective amulet,” I guessed.  I’d had some very odd requests, but this had been the first one where he’d flatly refused to tell me what he wanted.  I wondered, absently, if he thought he could force me to swear an oath to keep my mouth shut.  “Or ... maybe he wants a pair of stirrers.”

“Makes sense,” Rose agreed.  “An upperclassman who hasn't learnt how to moderate his magic in potions is going to be in trouble.”

I shrugged.  I could make him a pair of stirrers, if he wished, but Magistra Loanda would have no trouble spotting and confiscating them.  They were cheating, as far as she was concerned.  And she was right.

“I don’t know,” I said.  I yawned.  Lights Out was still an hour away, but I was tired.  And I needed to be up early in the morning.  “Shall we go to bed?”

Rose yawned too.  “It would probably be a good idea,” she said, as she started to tidy away the books.  “Monday can't be bad, right?”

“We’ll be back in class,” I pointed out.  Hopefully, Akin would be there.  I tried not to think about the prospect of his father pulling him out of school for good.  “I’m sure it will be fun.”

Chapter Eight

“I’m glad to see that some of you are continuing the proud school tradition of stumbling into class five minutes after the last bell rings,” Magister Tallyman said.  He sneered rudely at the latecomers, resting his muscular arms on his hips.  “Do you have something resembling an excuse?”

I barely heard him.  I was too busy being relieved.  Akin was back!  He hadn't been at breakfast, but he’d made it down in time for Forging.  Maybe his father had kept him at Rubén Hall overnight and brought him back in the morning.  No one was going to say anything to him about it.

Magister Tallyman kept speaking.  “Your mocks are a bare two months away,” he reminded us, sharply.  “Those of you who didn't know anything about forging when you entered my class will be tested - oh, yes; you will be tested - on what you have learnt since summer.  If you don’t practice, you won’t pass.”

His gaze swept the room.  It wasn't like him to snap so badly at latecomers.  Something must have happened ... and I thought I knew what.  My father had probably already had a long chat with him about precisely what he’d been thinking, when he’d given me the sword.  Come to think of it, Akin’s father had probably had a chat with him too.  Magister Tallyman hadn't been alive when the sword had been lost.  Who knew how many hands had held it before the sword ended up in Magister Tallyman’s classroom?

“We’re going to be practicing nexus wiring today,” Magister Tallyman added, after a long moment.  “By the time the bell rings, I expect each and every one of you to have put together a perfect nexus.  You’ll be using them for the rest of the year, so it is a skill you have to master.”

I kept my face expressionless as groans echoed around the room.  I’d mastered nexus wiring long ago.  It wasn’t difficult, as long as one was careful, but it was fiddly and the slightest mistake could render the entire nexus useless.  Trying to do it in a hurry was asking for trouble.  And I had never been able to test my work.  I’d had to get Dad’s apprentices to test them for me.

“There’s a diagram on the blackboard,” Magister Tallyman said.  He gave us a thin smile, revealing that he’d lost a tooth sometime in the last few days.  An experiment must have gone spectacularly wrong.  “And if you didn't do your homework ... believe me, I’ll know about it.”

Rose nudged me as we hurried over to the supply cupboards.  “What does he mean?”

“The homework covered how power is channelled through the nexus wiring,” I said.  No wonder he’d told us he wouldn't be marking the homework.  If we hadn’t read the books and done the exercises, our nexuses were going to be subpar.  Thankfully, Dad had made me go over it again and again when I’d started to forge.  “He’ll know we didn't do the homework if we can't get the nexus point to work.”

“Ouch,” Rose said.  She smiled, rather wanly.  “And to think I stayed up all night working on that essay.”

I snorted and looked around the supply cupboards.  They were bulging with everything from wood and metal to gemstones and dragon scales.  The mocks were coming up, I reminded myself.  Magister Tallyman wouldn't want to risk running out of supplies when the upperclassmen were practicing everything, time and time again.  He probably reserved a ton of materials for the exam rooms, just to make sure there was no prospect of running out during the exam itself.  The examiners wouldn’t give the upperclassmen a simple diagram to follow.  They’d set them a problem to solve instead.

And we’d better be careful not to accidentally touch their work, I thought, as I looked at the locked cupboards.  They’d go mental.

Magister Tallyman intercepted us as we made our way back to the workbench.  “Cat, I want you to watch everyone on this side of the room,” he said.  “Akin can handle the other side.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.  I’d made enough nexus points for Magister Tallyman to have no doubt about my abilities.  I had earned that qualification.  There was no point in having me do it again - and again - when I could be helping other students.  “I ... can we talk after class?”

Magister Tallyman gave me a long look, then nodded reluctantly.  I allowed myself a moment of relief as I moved to the first workbench and watched Amber putting together a nexus link.  She’d clearly been practicing over the last few weeks.  Her fingers, once better-suited for sewing than forging, put the link together with confidence.  I was almost impressed.

I moved to the next table.  Isabella shot me a nasty look, twisting her body to conceal her work.  I hesitated, then decided that if she didn’t want help, I didn't have to offer it.  Besides, her brother was Magister Tallyman’s other assistant.  She could swallow her pride and ask Akin for help, if she needed it.  I could feel her eyes watching me as I made my way slowly to the third workbench.  My back itched, expecting a hex at any moment.  Isabella seemed to have recovered from the drubbing I’d given her in the duel.

She can't do anything to me in the dorm, I reminded myself, sharply.  But she can try to harass me in the corridors.

I touched the protective bracelet, gently.  Isabella wasn't stupid.  She knew that firing hexes at my back would be pointless.  But that wouldn't stop her trying to find a way to get at me.  I’d humiliated her in front of the entire school.  Her family name would stop her falling too far, but it wasn't enough to keep her from being a laughingstock.  She’d have to find a way to rebuild her reputation somehow or she’d never have the chance to reach for power.

Not that her father would let her have the chance, I thought.  He wants a male heir.

The class started to drag as I moved from table to table.  Forging was normally my favourite class, but it was almost a relief when the bell finally rang for lunch.  Magister Tallyman glared at a couple of boys who’d made an immediate dash for the door, then supervised as we returned our tools and supplies to their boxes.  I was pleased to see that Rose had managed to forge a perfect nexus link.  All that practice was finally paying off.

“Can you wait for me outside?”  I kept my voice low as Magister Tallyman dismissed the class with a final warning about keeping up with our homework.  “I need to speak to Magister Tallyman.”

Rose nodded and headed for the door.  I thought I saw Akin outside, just for a second; I wanted to hurry out and try to catch him before he went to lunch.  But he was surrounded by a handful of other boys ... it hurt, somehow, to know he had friends apart from me.  I couldn't show too much interest in him, or people would talk.  Mum’s lessons had made that clear.

People are meant to come to me, not have me come to them, I thought.  A thought struck me as Magister Tallyman cleared his throat for attention.  Maybe they're going to him ...

“Cat,” Magister Tallyman said.  “What can I do for you?”

I studied him for a long moment.  His bare arms seemed to have acquired even more scars, somehow.  The leather apron he wore bore mute testament to the force of the explosion that had wounded him.  I wondered, as I tried to choose my words carefully, just what he’d been doing.  Magister Tallyman’s obsession with recreating long-lost Objects of Power had driven him to take dangerous chances before.

My mouth was dry.  “Did you ... did you know who owned the sword?”

“Who used to own the sword,” Magister Tallyman corrected.

I looked up at him, trying to gauge what he’d said.  Ownership was sometimes hard to define, particularly when Objects of Power were involved.  Magister Tallyman wouldn't want to set a precedent for having to surrender a repaired Object of Power back to its original owners, particularly when they’d lost the sword over two hundred years ago.  And yet, the blade was practically useless to anyone who didn't have a blood-tie to its original owner.

“That sword is the long-lost Rubén Sword,” I said, suddenly too tired to be polite.  “Did you know what it was?”

He looked back at me for a long, cold moment.  I half-expected to be unceremoniously dismissed from the classroom, or given lines to write, or - worst of all - be stripped of my assistantship.  I was being rude, unforgivably rude.  And yet, it had to be said.

Magister Tallyman let out a long sigh.  “I had my suspicions, Cat,” he said.  He pressed his fingers together, as if he were lost in thought.  “But there was no way to prove it.”

“You had me repair it,” I reminded him.

“I didn't think you could succeed,” Magister Tallyman admitted.  “The damage was quite extensive.”

I was torn between feeling stung at his lack of faith in me and a dull admission that he had a point.  The sword had been badly damaged.  I’d had to replace more than just the gemstone to make it work again.  A little more damage and it might have been easier to build a new sword from scratch, rather than try to repair the old one.  The slightest flaw in the blade would render it useless - or dangerous.

“I did succeed,” I said, miserably.  “And it’s their sword.”

“I’m impressed the blood-bond survived the sword’s death and rebirth,” Magister Tallyman said.  His scarred face twisted, oddly.  “Did you give it to him deliberately?”

I shook my head.  “No, sir.”

“And you couldn't have done it by accident, either,” Magister Tallyman added.  He turned away, striding towards the rickety bookshelves on the far wall.  “There must have been a trace of blood that survived the sword’s destruction.”

“Yes, sir,” I agreed.

I wanted to giggle.  I’d made mistakes during my training - everyone did - but there were limits.  There was no way I could blood-bond a sword by accident.  It required blood ... no one would even give me their blood unless they knew precisely what I intended to do with it and watched me like a hawk.  They’d be wary even if they were sure I couldn't perform some of the nastier workings.  Blood magics could get through some of the most powerful wards in the world.

And I’ll have to find out if they work on me, I thought.  Tyros’s scroll had made it clear that the werewolf curse didn't affect Zeros, although I wasn't about to let myself be bitten just to see if that was actually true.  Werewolves were rare in Maxima.  But how do I experiment with something like that?

Magister Tallyman picked a well-thumbed book off the shelf and opened it.  “The older swords were apparently forged in the blood of their intended users,” he said, as he found a page and scanned it quickly.  “It was believed that this would infuse their essence into the blade.”

“But I didn't have to do that when I made Sir Griffon’s blade,” I objected.  I’d needed a blood sample, of course, but nothing more than a drop or two.  “Why did they do it?”

“Maybe they had some reason we have yet to figure out,” Magister Tallyman told me, holding out the book.  “Or maybe they just wanted to limit the number of blades.”

I took the book and read through the short description.  It was close - very close - to what I’d done for Sir Griffons, but there were some differences.  Magister Tallyman hadn't been joking.  The sword was quenched in blood.  I shook my head in disbelief.  It had been hard enough to get a blood sample from Sir Griffons.  He wouldn’t have given me enough blood to quench a white-hot blade.  It didn't look remotely practical.

Unless there’s something missing from the instructions, I reminded myself.  None of the ancients had bothered to tell their successors about Zeros.  Who knew what else they’d considered so obvious that it didn't need to be written down?  Maybe they cultivated blood to use for the blade.

I considered it for a long moment.  Mum had taught me how to brew blood-replenishing potions, although - naturally - I’d never been able to get them to work.  I supposed someone could donate a pint or two of blood, drink a potion and donate some more blood, but I didn’t think they’d be happy about it.  Perhaps the ancients had kept the forgers under very tight control, just to make sure that none of the blood leaked.  Tyros had practically been a prisoner in the Eternal City.

And I was a prisoner too, I thought, shivering.  Will I be a prisoner again?

I passed the book back to Magister Tallyman.  “I don't want to experiment with blood.”

His eyebrows rose.  “Even if we found a willing volunteer?”

I shook my head.  No matter what he said, I doubted we’d find a willing volunteer.  They’d get a blade out of the deal, but ... I shrugged.  None of the adults I knew would take such a risk.  The slightest mistake could mean utter disaster.

“We can talk about it later,” Magister Tallyman said.  He dropped the book on the nearest workbench.  “Going back to your original question, I wasn't sure who owned the blade.  And I don’t think they have any claim on it.”

“Lord Rubén disagrees,” I told him.  “It isn't as if they deliberately discarded the blade.”

“No,” Magister Tallyman agreed.  “Particularly as we don’t know precisely what happened to the sword.  We know some idiot removed the gemstone, but who?  And why?”

I considered it, thoughtfully.  Prising the gemstone out of the hilt wouldn't be easy, not when the spellform was intact, but it was doable.  Someone could have killed the bearer, then destroyed the sword when they discovered they were unable to move it.  Or perhaps they’d taken out the gemstone in the hopes of putting the sword back together in a safer place.  I doubted anyone actually knew the truth.  House Rubén certainly hadn't known what had happened to the blade.

“They want it back,” I said.

“I don’t blame them,” Magister Tallyman said.  “But the chain of ownership was thoroughly snapped.  I acquired the blade in good faith, then gave it to you ... also in good faith.  Legally speaking, the blade is yours.”

“And practically, the blade is useless to me,” I muttered.  I could move the blade, if I used a cradle, but I couldn't wield it.  “If I sold it to them ...”

“Offer to trade the blade for a handful of favours,” Magister Tallyman suggested.  “Or ask if they have any other broken Objects of Power.”

I shook my head.  House Rubén wouldn't agree to vague terms, no matter how seemingly advantageous.  They’d want to make certain they understood precisely what they were trading for the sword.  And then ... I sighed.  Anything we might reasonably want in exchange for the blade was nothing they’d want to give us.  There was no hope of using it to forge a permanent peace.

“I don’t know,” I said.  I looked up at him.  “You had your suspicions ...?”

“There aren't that many such swords unaccounted for,” Magister Tallyman said.  “Certainly not ones that were destroyed so long after the empire fell.  And very few of them would come anywhere near Shallot.”

I nodded slowly, although I wasn't convinced.  It was rare for a Great House to discard a broken Object of Power, even though it was useless.  They tended to bury them in the vaults and pretend they’d never existed in the first place.  After all, someone might figure out how to actually repair them.  House Rubén’s sword had been lost in combat.  Or ...

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for the trouble I have inadvertently caused you,” Magister Tallyman added.  He sounded genuinely regretful.  I suspected that the Castellan had certainly told him off, even if my father - or Akin’s father - had said nothing.  “And I will do what I can to make up for it.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

I made a mental note to think about what I could ask for, carefully.  Him owing me a favour ... I sighed.  A year ago, I would have asked for an apprenticeship.  It would have given me a place to go, if I was kicked out of the family.  But now ... it was hard to think of anything I actually needed.  A bigger workroom?  Better supplies?  Magister Tallyman could even give me private tutoring ... although I wasn't sure how much use his lessons would be.  The techniques devised to produce Devices of Power weren't designed to produce Objects of Power.

Maybe he could help me forge the next flying machine, I thought.  He’d insisted on going through everything I’d done to make our makeshift flying machine when we’d returned to Jude’s.  Building one of those would be fun.

“I think we should find out just who the next broken Object of Power belongs to before we try to repair it,” I said.  The dinner bell rang, again.  I’d kept Rose waiting long enough.  If we were too late, we wouldn't get any dinner before potions class.  “I’d better go.”

“See you this evening,” Magister Tallyman said.  “If you still want to use the workroom ...”

“I do,” I said.  “I have a couple of other Objects of Power I want to try.”

I turned and hurried through the door.  Rose was standing outside the door, waiting for me ...

... And Akin was standing next to her.

Chapter Nine

My heart started to race as I closed the workroom door behind me.  I’d wanted to talk to him, but now ... now I didn't know what to say.  He looked equally nervous, clasping his hands behind his back to keep them out of my sight.  I thought they must be shaking.  His blue eyes seemed to be having trouble meeting mine.  Rose looked from him to me and then back again, rolling her eyes.  To her, we must have seemed very silly.

“You’re looking well, Akin,” she said, briskly.  “Should we start talking about the weather?”

Akin chuckled.  I giggled, helplessly.  The ice was broken.

“Father insisted that I have my hair restyled,” Akin said.  He ran a hand through his short blond hair.  “But I really didn't like the wig.”

I lifted an eyebrow.  It was common for children to be dressed as miniature adults, but it was odd for a young boy to have to wear a wig.  Akin’s father must be trying to remind him, once again, that one day Akin would rule the family.  Unless House Rubén’s council thought someone else would be a better fit.  Akin’s father must be very confident in his ability to give Akin the role after his death.  Even my father would have trouble convincing the council to accept one of his daughters without a fight.

“I had to spend last night at a dinner party,” Akin added, after a moment.  “It was ... unpleasant.”

“It sounds like fun,” Rose said, wistfully.  “All the girls keep talking about them ...”

“They’re nightmarish,” I said.  “Believe me, you’d be happier eating in your room.”

Rose didn't look as though she believed me, but it was true.  Dinner parties could be thoroughly unpleasant.  I preferred the adult dinner parties to the childish gatherings - there were fewer hexes being thrown around - but they were, at best, tedious.  Children who were unlucky enough to be invited were expected to be seen, not heard.  If we were lucky, we were confined to the children’s table; if we were unlucky, we were expected to sit next to our elderly relatives and be scolded - sharply - for using the wrong fork.

I looked at Akin.  “What was the party about?”

Akin frowned.  “Father summoned all his senior clients to dine with him,” he said.  “They ate and drank, then retired into the smoking room and I was sent to bed.”

I wondered, grimly, just what they’d discussed after dinner.  It was rare, at least for my father, to summon all of his clients to a single dinner.  There was too great a chance of facing massed opposition.  I couldn't imagine that it was any different for House Rubén.  A gathering of clients boded ill for the future.

They may be testing the waters before they sue for the sword, I thought.  Or planning something worse.

Akin sighed.  “I told him about the sword,” he said.  “And I’m sorry.”

I felt ... I wasn't sure how I felt.  It was hard not to feel as though Akin had betrayed me, even though I hadn't asked him to keep the sword secret.  And he probably hadn't had any choice, but to tell his father.  My father would have been furious if I’d kept something like that from him.  He had been furious ... it wasn't our sword, but its mere existence had caused all sorts of complications.  I couldn't really blame Akin for telling his father, yet I still felt as though he’d betrayed me.  It was ... complicated.

“It’s alright,” I said, softly.  I wasn't sure it was, but ... it would have to do.  “Did he tell you he planned to ask for the sword?”

Akin shook his head, miserably.  “He just listened to me, but ... he didn't tell me what he had in mind.  I thought he would ask for the sword eventually, not ... not try to confront your father.”

Rose frowned.  “Confront Cat’s father?”

“Akin’s father demanded the sword,” I told her.  “That’s what he wanted to talk about.”

“Ah,” Rose said.  She cocked her head in puzzlement. “Why don’t you just sell it to them?”

I shared a look with Akin.  “It isn't that easy,” I said.  I’d have to explain later.  “The price would be very high.”

“I’m sorry that your father was surprised,” Akin said.  “Was he very angry with you?”

“Yeah,” I said.  I didn't want to go into details.  “What about your father?”

“He wasn't happy either,” Akin said.  “He seemed to think I shouldn’t have touched the sword.”

I snorted.  “How could he possibly have known that it was his sword?”

Akin shrugged.  “I don’t think he knew,” he said.  “I certainly never recognised it.”

Rose cleared her throat.  “So ... you two are friends again?”

Akin coloured.  I felt my cheeks heat too.  Thankfully, my dark skin made it impossible for anyone to tell.  Neither of us had any way to know what would happen when Akin touched the sword.  It had caught us - and everyone else - by surprise.  And then I’d compounded the problem by allowing my father to be blindsided by Akin’s father.

“Yes,” I said, briskly.  I didn't want to fight with Akin.  “Aren't we?”

“Yeah,” Akin said.

Rose grinned.  “Then we’d better go to lunch,” she said.  “I’m starving.”

We hurried down the corridor and up a flight of stairs.  The chambers were nearly empty, save for a pair of upperclassmen who appeared to be checking the runes carved into the stone walls.  We slipped past them, trying not to be noticed, and down another flight of stairs, passing through one of the points where two buildings had been linked together and turned into one.  Jude’s was an old building, one that had been expanding and swallowing everything in its path for years.  I had a feeling that, one day, it would swallow up the entire city.

It’s already big enough to house the city’s population, I thought.  Jude’s was immense, with hundreds of classrooms and sleeping chambers that hadn't been touched in years.  We really should go exploring again.

I looked at Akin.  “This weekend, do you want to explore some more of the school?”

Akin grinned.  “Why not?”

Rose nodded in agreement as we passed through a set of wooden doors that wouldn't have been out of place in one of the Great Halls.  The ballroom inside was completely deserted.  It was normally used for formal dances - and practice - but there wouldn't be any dances until after the mocks, when the upperclassmen would have a chance to relax.  I checked my watch, then motioned for them to move faster.  If we were late for dinner, we wouldn't be fed.

And then we’ll have real problems in potions class, I thought.  I ...

Something moved, at the corner of my eye.  I tensed, one hand dropping to the spellcaster on my belt, an instant before I saw the thing move closer.  A frog, hopping on the ground, warty hands reaching for attention.  I recognised the motions and held up a hand to keep Rose from getting too close.  Someone was signalling for help.

“They must have lost a duel,” Akin said.  “Should we help?”

“He’s asking for help,” I pointed out.  I’d been turned into a frog myself too many times to feel anything but pity for the victim.  Besides, there was no sign of whoever had cast the spell.  They’d just walked away, leaving the victim alone.  “Try and undo the spell.”

The frog stood still as Akin waved his hands in a cancelling gesture, but nothing happened.  I blinked in surprise.  Akin was good at cancelling spells.  Growing up with Isabella had probably encouraged him to learn as many as possible.  And yet ... nothing happened when he cast the spell for a second time, then tried a cantrip that was normally only taught in second year.  The frog didn't change.

I frowned.  I’d once tricked Alana into thinking she’d turned me into a frog permanently, by hiding a real frog in her room.  She hadn't been amused.  The frog was signalling, but ... were we being tricked?  Had someone taught the frog to make human signals, then let it go to see who’d stumble across it?  I didn't think it was actually forbidden, largely because it was hard to imagine anyone stupid enough to try.

And yet ... I reached for my spectacles and put them on.  The frog glowed with light, a spell holding the transfiguration firmly in place.  It was powerful, a spell well above the capabilities of a firstie.  No wonder Akin was having no luck cancelling the spell!  Rose tried too, adding her power to his, but it didn't work.  I could see that it wouldn’t work.

I removed the dispeller from my belt and pressed it against the frog.  There was a flash of light and an older girl - wearing a fifth-year uniform - appeared in front of us, on her hands and knees.  She straightened up hastily, brushing her brown hair back into plaits.  Her face was deathly pale.  I couldn't help wondering just how long she’d been a frog.

Akin gasped.  “You’re an upperclassman?”

I was just as surprised.  I’d thought upperclassmen didn't hex each other for fun.  They were too busy bossing us lowerclassmen around, when they weren't studying for their exams.  But the girl was definitely at least four years older than we were.  There were aging potions, but I couldn't imagine anyone actually taking them.  The risks were too great for anything other than dire need.

“... Yes,” the girl stammered.  I saw a trace of fright in her eyes as she looked at me.  “I ...”

She stood up, clearing her throat.  “Get along to lunch or I’ll give you lines.”

Akin looked at me, then shrugged.  “Let’s go.”

We walked through the door and down the corridor.  “That wasn't very grateful of her,” Rose said, as soon as we were out of earshot.  “You’d think she’d say thanks, at least.”

I shrugged.  “We’re firsties,” I pointed out.  “She was probably cringing with horror at the thought of having to beg us for help.”

“Yeah,” Akin agreed.  He laughed.  “Getting turned into a frog - and trapped as a frog - would be bad enough at her age, but being helped by a trio of firsties ...”

“It’s stupid,” Rose protested.  “What does it matter?”

“Everyone will be laughing at her, later,” I said.  “Or they would be laughing, if they knew the truth.  They’d certainly never take her seriously.”

“But I couldn't lift the spell,” Rose said.  “Akin couldn't lift the spell.  You had to do it, with an Object of Power.”

“That won't be included in the retelling,” Akin pointed out.  “They’ll keep focused on us.”

“Stupid,” Rose muttered.

I nodded in agreement - I’d grown up knowing that children five years younger than me had more magic in their fingernails than I had in my entire body - and then frowned as the implications struck me.  I hadn't had a chance to take the spellform apart, but I’d seen enough of it to know that it was an adult-grade spell.  It reminded me of the spell Great Aunt Stregheria had used on me and my sisters.  Who’d cast it?  An older student?  Or had the poor girl simply stumbled over a trap someone had hidden in a disused part of the school?

“We won’t mention it to anyone,” I said, as we walked into the dining hall.  A number of students were already filing out, probably heading down to the common rooms before the bell rang for class.  “And we’ll do our best to ignore her if we see her again.”

“Unless we need a favour from an upperclassman,” Akin said, practically.  “She’ll pay us to keep our mouths shut.”

Rose rolled her eyes.  “Would anyone believe us if we told?”

“Point,” Akin agreed.

I took a tray from the kitchen hatch and looked around for a place to sit.  Half the students appeared to be missing, but there was something hanging in the air.  Normally, conversation would be loud, despite the wards thrumming in the air; now, conversation was quiet and stilted, students huddling together in small groups.  Hostile looks were being exchanged between some of the larger groups, all centred on scions of the aristocracy.  Akin and I seemed to be attracting some attention too.

Rose nudged me as we sat down at the firstie table.  “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know,” I muttered back.  We were the only firsties in the hall.  “Akin?”

Akin shrugged listlessly, then tucked into his sausage and mash with every evidence of enjoyment.  I glanced around, feeling unfriendly eyes resting on me, then dug into my own meal.  We’d dawdled so long that we only had twenty minutes to finish before the bell.  I didn't want to have to run to class on a full stomach.  And yet, I felt as if they were watching me as I ate.  It was worse than attending one of Mum’s practice banquets, with the grand dames just watching and waiting for me to make a mistake.

“Maybe they lost a duelling contest,” Akin speculated, once he’d cast a privacy ward around our little bubble.  “Or maybe they got caught cheating.”

Rose took a bite of her food.  “Wouldn't they be expelled for cheating?”

“It depends,” I said.  It might depend on who and what their parents were, but I wasn't going to tell her that.  Rose had come far too close to being expelled in her first months because of me.  “If they actually managed to fool the anti-cheating spells, they might get rewarded ...”

“They’d also be in deep trouble,” Akin pointed out.  “They’d lack the background to actually understand what they were doing.”

I nodded in agreement.  Magic rarely allowed shortcuts to power and success.  It was why the handful of really powerful Objects of Power were regarded as being incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands.  One of those rare objects could kick a man right to the top, as long as he was wearing it.  But without one, the only way to survive and prosper as a sorcerer was to learn the fundamentals first before moving on to the more advanced spells.  An ignorant magician who’d somehow managed to cheat his way through school would be exposed soon enough.

“Maybe they just lost a football game,” I speculated.  I didn't think the upperclassmen were allowed to play sports in the morning, but I’d never paid that much attention to their timetables.  “Or ...”

I frowned as I finished my meal, allowing my eyes to roam the room.  There were several groups eying the others warily, their faces showing varying degrees of hostility.  It didn't look as though one side had lost a match.  Maybe they’d been forced to compete against each other or something.  I’d heard the upperclassmen were supposed to learn and work in groups.

“Ah,” Rose muttered.  “Cat ...”

I looked up.  Isabella had entered the room and was now striding over to us, her long blonde ponytail glinting in the light.  Her blue eyes flickered over us, lingering on me just long enough to make me feel uncomfortable, then focused on Akin.  He looked back at her, evenly.  I didn't think he wanted to listen to her.

“I need a word with you, brother of mine,” Isabella said, icily.  She glanced at me, then shrugged dismissively.  It would have hurt if I hadn't known I was unique.  “Alone.”

“I’m eating my dinner,” Akin said.  His voice was very calm, but I heard the edge in it.  He didn't want to talk to her any more than I did.  “Go away.”

“You can stuff your face later,” Isabella told him.  She rested her palms on the table, glaring at him.  “We need to talk.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither one willing to back down.  I wondered just who would win if they started trying to hex each other, although I doubted their father would be happy if they got into a very public fight.  Families were supposed to support each other in public ... the thought cost me a twinge of pain.  My sisters had never supported me.  I supposed Alana resented me as much as Isabella resented Akin ...

“We’ll talk tonight, after class,” Akin said, firmly.  He made a show of taking another bite of food and chewing it slowly.  “I don’t have time now.”

“Father says you should talk to me,” Isabella hissed.  Two red spots appeared on her pale cheeks.  I had the impression she would have started shouting if we hadn't been surrounded by upperclassmen.  “Akin ...”

“Later,” Akin snapped.  “Go away.”

Isabella lifted her hand, then stopped herself before she could cast a spell.  “After class,” she said, coldly.  “Immediately after class.  And alone.  None of your ... friends.”

I tensed, wondering which friends she meant.  Akin’s hangers-on?  Or us?  Maybe both.  Isabella clearly had something she wanted to discuss.  And it was probably meant to be private.  I’d once thought I’d share secrets with my sisters and no one else, the three of us against the world.  Six years of being powerless had put a stop to that.

“As you wish,” Akin said.  “I’ll meet you in Room 4B.”

Isabella shot Rose and I a final venomous look, then turned and walked away.  I felt sweat prickling down my back.  Something was clearly bothering Isabella, but what?

Rose coughed.  “What was that all about?”

“I have no idea,” Akin said.  He didn't sound too concerned.  “I suppose I’ll find out tonight.”

I nodded, then asked the question that had been bothering me.  “Which one of you is the better spellcaster?”

Akin looked pained.  “She is,” he said.  “I was never so interested in charms and hexes.”

The bell rang before I could think of a response.  “Come on,” I said, picking up my tray and carrying it to the hatch.  “We’d better get moving.”

Chapter Ten

It was sheer luck, I decided as we hurried into the potions classroom, that Magistra Loanda was busy talking to Magister Von Rupert when we arrived.  We were two minutes late, but she couldn't take official notice of it as long as the class hadn't actually begun.  Or so I hoped, as we sat down at our desks.  It was quite possible Magistra Loanda would give us detention - or lines - anyway.

“I have reviewed your homework, save for those of you who were unavoidably detained,” Magistra Loanda said, as soon as the door was closed.  I winced.  We were among the unlucky students who would have to make up missed homework later.  “Most of you successfully grasped the intersectionality of magical essence from the listed ingredients, although a number of you parroted back what you read in the textbooks rather than trying to put it into your own words.  It is hard to tell how many of those students really understand the material.”

She gave us a humourless smile.  “Accordingly, we will be brewing Wakefulness Potion this afternoon,” she said.  “Those of you who actually comprehended the material will have no trouble producing the potion within the next hour, at which point you will be dismissed early--” a gasp ran around the chamber “--and you can go make a start on your next homework assignment.  I’ll need that time to work with those who didn't understand the assignment.”

I tried to look around the room without making it too obvious.  Alana looked confident, unsurprisingly.  Potions weren't her forte, but Mum had forced her to practice time and time again until she knew the basics by heart.  Bella, sitting behind her, didn't look anything like so happy.  Her homework assignments were largely done at the very last minute, particularly when I wasn't around to help her.  And Isabella looked pleased ...

“You must be careful not to drink the potion until it has been tested,” Magistra Loanda warned us.  “The brew is largely harmless, but a sip may well be enough to keep you awake for the next few days until it wears off ... at which point, you will collapse in a heap and sleep for a long period.  Repeated doses can be very dangerous, as the potion builds up in your bloodstream.  Too many students have tried to keep themselves awake to study, only to accidentally sleep through the exams.”

I had to smile.  That would be embarrassing.

“Read the recipe carefully,” Magistra Loanda said.  She waved a hand at the blackboard.  A list of ingredients and instructions appeared in front of us.  “Collect your ingredients, then get to work.  Alone.  There is to be no collaboration on this potion.”

I winced.  Wakefulness Potion wasn’t particularly powerful, as potions went, but it was finicky.  There were no less than thirty steps, the last ten of which had to be done in quick succession.  Mum had made me brew more complex potions, but Rose hadn't had a chance to practice.  I’d expected to be brewing with her.

Magistra Loanda tapped her desk.  “Cat, come with me.  The rest of you, get to work.”

I blinked, then hastily stood.  What did she want with me?  Did she think I’d help Rose?  Or that Rose would help me?  Or ... I couldn't think of anything as I followed Magistra Loanda into a little backroom.  It was a small potions lab, complete with a selection of wall-mounted cupboards, a table and a stool.  An old book lay on the table, held open by a piece of cloth.  I could smell the old pages right across the room.

“Question,” Magistra Loanda said.  “What are the second term potions designed to do?”

I hesitated.  “To teach students how to infuse a precise amount of magic into the brew.”

“Your mother has taught you well,” Magistra Loanda said, without irony.  “It is also designed to give me an understanding of your capabilities.  I don’t dare introduce anyone to the third term potions until I know you can handle it.  But in your case, you can't infuse the magic directly into the liquid.”

“I can make stirrers to do it,” I said, quickly.  “They work ...”

“I know they work,” Magistra Loanda said.  “But there’s no point in trying to gauge skills and powers you don’t have.”

She pointed at the book.  “The recipe here requires a very precise infusion of magic, young lady.  No Potions Master or Mistress has been able to produce it for the last thousand years.  I want you to try.”

I swallowed.  “Is it ... what is it?”

“It’s supposed to provide a magic boost,” Magistra Loanda said.  “But, as you can see, it isn't easy to brew.”

I sat down on the stool and scanned the book.  The recipe was written in Old Script, the letters so small that I had to strain to make them out.  It actually looked relatively simple, save for the quantities of magic.  I parsed it out slowly, silently grateful that Dad had forced me to learn Old Script from a very early age.  The language was immensely complex and it was very hard for an adult to learn.

“It’s not that complicated,” I mused.  “Can't you find a way to compensate for the magic requirements?”

“None of my experiments have worked,” Magistra Loanda said.  She sounded just like Mum, when she’d made the same complaint.  “It’s possible that one or more ingredients were left out of the recipe.”

I winced.  Mum had complained about that too, so often that I knew the spiel by heart.  A skilled Potions Master might be able to deduce what was missing - either from the recipe or the instructions - but it was never particularly easy.  Mum had once spent several months trying a succession of different ingredients to get a healing potion to work before finally stumbling on the answer.  I doubted I’d ever be half as good as she was.  My lack of sensitivity ensured I’d never develop the instincts to become a Potions Mistress.

At least I can follow the recipe, I thought, as I reached for my notebook.  And maybe I can figure out what’s missing.

“Be careful, Cat,” Magistra Loanda said.  “I don’t expect you to finish the brew today.”

“I understand,” I said.

I read the recipe again as she retreated.  It was impossible to be sure, but I was fairly certain that something was missing.  It just didn't look as though the end result would give anyone an energy boost.  Unless ... I dug through my memory, trying to see how the different ingredients would intersect together.  Perhaps the magic would transmute itself again and again ...

Clever, I thought, as the pieces slowly fell into place.  Mum would like this.

I smiled to myself.  The brew was odd, but it looked workable.  It certainly explained why some aspects of the instructions appeared to make no sense.  The ingredients would become a potion, I thought, but the transformation would be very slow.  I’d never seen anything like that before, not outside horror stories I’d been told to remind me to be careful.  And this was on a far subtler scale.

Mum had taught me to copy out the recipe before I actually tried to brew, particularly if the instructions were in a different language.  I opened my notebook and copied the lines one by one, translating as I went along.  Thankfully, the original writer hadn't tried to charm the book to make it impossible to copy the words.  Those spells rarely lasted long, but they could be dangerous.  There was a book in Dad’s collection that blinded anyone who tried to open it without permission.  I wasn’t sure if the curse could be undone.

I went through the calculations twice, just to be sure I’d got them right, then gathered the ingredients and carefully adjusted the stirrers to ensure that the brew received the precise amount of magic.  I’d need to make more soon enough, I thought, just in case Magistra Loanda wanted me to keep working with the impossible potions.  They weren't hard to make, but they tended to be difficult to adjust more than a few times.  I had a feeling the spellform didn't like being altered.

“Let’s go,” I said, as I filled the cauldron with water.  “This should work ...”

The potion seemed to work, right up to the moment I added the last ingredient.  There was a surge of blue light - I hastily threw myself backwards as the glow got brighter and brighter - and then a sizzling sound.  I forced myself to wait, counting to three hundred under my breath.  Normally, a cauldron would explode very quickly if it was going to explode at all, but I couldn't rely on it.  If the magical surge that turned the brew into a potion was going to happen very slowly, the crawl towards an explosion might happen slowly too.  But nothing happened.  Slowly, ready to dive for cover, I stood and looked at the cauldron.  A faint wisp of brown smoke was rising up, but nothing else.

I inched forward and peered into the cauldron.  The base was covered in a sluggish brown liquid that appeared to be nothing more than mud.  I poked it gingerly, but nothing happened.  I guessed the surge had come too fast, eating up all the magic in less than a second instead of triggering the transformation.  Shaking my head, I picked up the last stirrer and checked it carefully.  There was no sign there was anything wrong with it.  Perhaps the instructions had been deliberately altered.

Or it might have been a mistake, I thought, ruefully.  Whoever wrote the book copied the wrong detail down or transposed their figures or something.

It wasn't impossible.  There were quite a few ancient tomes that were clearly copies of copies, with the original spells and potion recipes written down in a hurry.  Dad had told me that some of the books even included spells that were nothing more than sheerest fantasy.  They weren't just altered, they were unworkable.  Perhaps there was a key to unlocking the hidden truth behind them, as many researchers had speculated, or ... maybe they’d just wanted to waste someone’s time.  Anyone who wanted to cast a Spell of Unlimited Power would cause less trouble if they were wasting their time trying to get an unworkable spell to work, rather than finding a more effective way to gain power.

And it would probably work, I thought.  If Alana had been prepared to risk curses as she sneaked into Dad’s private collection, I had no doubt a warlock would take equal or greater risks in his bid for power.  It would ...

The ground shook.  I threw myself to the hard ground instinctively, covering my head with my hands before quite realising what had happened.  The cauldron hadn't exploded.  I would have been screaming in pain - or dead - if it had.  And yet ... I rolled over and stood as I heard someone scream.  The explosion had been in the classroom!  I hurried to the door, just in time to see Magistra Loanda cast a stasis spell on Bella and float her over to the door.  Her face was badly scarred.

Magistra Loanda passed Bella to a pair of passing upperclassmen, with strict orders to take her directly to the healers, then turned back to the class.  The look she gave us - even me - was so cold that I shivered.  It made me feel guilty, even though I didn't know what had happened.  Bella had been injured, but ... but how?

“When I find out who cursed her potion,” Magistra Loanda said, in a voice so icy that I half-expected our potions to freeze instantly, “I will have that person expelled.”

I shivered, again, as Magistra Loanda’s eyes passed over me.  I knew I was innocent.  She had to know I was innocent.  And yet ... part of me quailed under her gaze.  The class seemed to draw back as she looked at them, like mice confronting an angry cat.  Old she might be, but Magistra Loanda was powerful - and angry.  We were in deep - deep - trouble.

“This is one of the most dangerous classes in school,” Magistra Loanda said.  Her voice was still cold.  “It does not have to be more dangerous.  Who did it?”

We all cringed.  None of us would tattle, I thought ... even though cursing a boiling cauldron was not a harmless little prank like turning someone into a frog.  Bella had been hurt ... I winced in sympathy, remembering when Rose and I had both been caught in a potions explosion.  At least Bella wouldn’t face the possibility of being expelled as well as seriously injured.  But she’d still be in a healer’s bed for a few days, perhaps a week ...

“I will find the person responsible,” Magistra Loanda warned us.  “And that person will regret it.”

Silence fell.  No one spoke.  I felt sweat prickling on the back of my neck.  If Magistra Loanda knew who to blame, that person was dead.  Perhaps literally.  And if that person didn't confess ... not, I supposed, that it mattered.  That person had come within a hairsbreadth of killing one or more students.  Confession or no confession, that person was going to be expelled.

“I see,” Magistra Loanda said, after long minutes had crawled by.  It felt like we’d been in the classroom for hours.  “Seeing the person responsible isn't going to confess, you can all be punished.  Clear up your desks, then grab cleaning supplies.  I want this room scrubbed from top to bottom before any of you get anything to eat.  And then I want a three-thousand-word essay on precisely why this class is so dangerous.”

I took a shuddering breath as the class began to mutter angrily.  Cleaning a classroom for a detention ... even if all of us pitched in, it was going to take hours.  Our uniforms would be practically ruined by the time we were finished.  And we would not be able to go to dinner until it was done ... it was going to be ghastly.  I looked from face to face, trying to see who looked relieved, but no one appeared to be particularly guilty.  Even Isabella looked shocked.

It could be an act, I thought.  She’d be the most likely suspect.

I mulled it over as I helped Rose clear up her desk.  She’d been midway through the potion when Bella’s cauldron had exploded, forcing her to discard her brew into the disposal and then pick up a cleaning cloth.  No one appeared to know where to begin.  Alana and Isabella got into an argument, while two of the boys started pushing and shoving at each other.  I met Rose’s eyes and sighed while Magistra Loanda bellowed for order.  It was going to be a long afternoon.

“We need to get this done,” Ayesha McDonald said, sharply.  “If half of us do the floor, while the other half do the walls, it will be done before dinnertime.”

“And who put you in charge?”  Alana demanded.  “I don’t want to ruin my uniform ...”

“You have seven more complete uniforms in your trunk,” I snapped.  I was too worried about Bella to care about Alana’s dignity.  Besides, it wasn't fair.  I’d been in the backroom when the cauldron exploded.  “Why was I being punished too? You can afford to send one of them away to be cleaned.”

Alana glared at me, but took one of the cloths and started wiping the nearest wall.  I sighed as the rest of the cloths and buckets of water were handed out, then took one myself and started to wash the floor.  The water turned an odd colour as the remnants of exploded potions started to come off the floor, worrying me more than I cared to admit.  Something that soaked into my skin might just bypass my protections.  Ayesha McDonald bossed us around with striking efficiency, telling us precisely what to do.  I would have complained if I hadn't known she was doing her fair share of the work.

I nudged Rose as we rubbed the floor.  “Did you see who did it?”

Rose shook her head.  “I didn't know anything was wrong until I heard the explosion,” she said.  “Did she make a mistake?”

“I don’t think so,” I said.  Exploding cauldrons was hardly an irregular occurrence, but ... Bella wasn't that incompetent.  “None of the ingredients are particularly volatile.”

And Magistra Loanda thinks it wasn’t an accident, I added, silently.  I had no doubts about her competence.  Magistra Loanda was one of the greatest Potion Mistresses in the city.  If she thought someone had cursed Bella’s cauldron, someone had cursed Bella’s cauldron.  But who?  Her wards didn't catch whoever hurled the spell.

I puzzled over it as we wiped up the water, trying vainly not to get it on our skirts.  The wards should have detected and contained any hex within the classroom, then tattled on whoever had cast the spell.  But they hadn’t.  I couldn't think of any way to circumvent the wards without making it blindingly obvious that something was wrong.  Magistra Loanda would be very aware of her protective wards.  She would know instantly if someone had managed to bring them down.

“I feel icky,” Alana announced.  She glared around the room.  “What now?”

I would have laughed at her, if I hadn't been a mess myself.  My skirt was drenched in water and the remains of dead potions, while my shirt looked as though I’d been splattering paint over myself.  It was probably a write-off.  Sandy was going to shout at us for messing up the shower when we finally got back to the dorms.  And ...

“Go get changed, then try and see Bella,” I said.  “And then we might have to write to Mum and Dad.”

“You are dismissed,” Magistra Loanda said icily, before Alana could reply.  “And when I find the person who cursed the cauldron, that person will still be expelled.”

I shuddered as we hurried for the door.  I had no doubt she meant it.

Chapter Eleven

“Your sister is recovering nicely,” the healer said, the following morning.  “But you can't stay too long.”

I peered past him into the small bedroom.  Bella was lying on the bed, snoring loudly.  Her face was covered with white bandages, with holes for eyes.  It didn't look as though she was resisting or somehow negating the healing potions, thankfully.  I knew I’d come far too close to rejecting the potions the healers had used to heal me after my accident.  Bella probably wouldn't have that problem, particularly when she was asleep.

Alana pushed past me and into the room.  “Wake her up!”

The healer gave her an annoyed look.  “It’s better to keep the patient asleep until the healing process is completed,” he said, tartly.  He didn't seem fazed by Alana’s scowl.  “She’ll be better in a few hours.”

“Good,” Alana said, savagely.  “Who did this to her?”

I shrugged. Isabella was the most likely suspect, but I didn't think she was stupid enough to risk everything for a joke.  Magistra Loanda might not have been able to expel her, if Isabella’s father called in enough favours, but she could certainly ban Isabella from the class and make sure that no other potions tutor took her as a student.  And Isabella had looked as sodden as the rest of us by the time the class came to an end.

“You were next to her,” I reminded her.  “Didn't you see what happened?”

Alana glared at me.  “I was focusing on my potion,” she said.  “I didn't see what happened.”

“And I was in the other room,” I said.  “I didn't know what had happened until it was too late.”

I looked down at my hands.  I’d showered three times since Magistra Loanda had finally banished us from her classroom, but I could still see traces of decayed potions ingredients on my skin.  It would be worse for Isabella, I thought.  The remnants of potion would show clearly against her pale skin.  And I hadn't even been in the classroom when the potion exploded ...

“Bully for you.”  Alana sneered.  “Are you sure you didn't make her potion explode?”

“Thank you for reminding me why I hate you,” I snapped back.  “My work couldn't have interfered with her work.”

Alana looked as though she was on the verge of hexing me.  “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I said.  “If I’d produced ... something ... that interfered with her potion, it would have interfered with every other potion too.”

“Are you sure?”  Alana demanded.  “Your gifts are weird.”

I considered it for a long moment.  I hadn't been working with blood, let alone anything else that might have linked Bella and I together.  It wasn't as if we had conjoined magic!  Maybe - just maybe - I’d accidentally created a resonance field that had resonated with Bella’s potion, but why just Bella’s potion?  And I couldn't see how I might have created the field in the first place.  The recipe had made it clear that the magical surge would actually be very low-power.

“My gifts are very useful,” I said, instead.  “And yours are quite common.”

Alana opened her mouth, but the healer spoke first, cutting off whatever caustic comment she intended to make.

“If you two are just going to argue, please go do it somewhere else,” he said, wearily.  “This is not a place for loud noises.”

I jumped.  I’d forgotten the healer was there.  Alana looked equally surprised.  “Fine,” she said, sharply.  “But this is not over.”

“Out,” the healer ordered.

I took one last look at Bella as I mumbled an apology, then turned and hurried through the door.  A handful of older students were waiting outside, hoping to have a handful of hexes removed before they had to go to class.  One of them was lying on the floor, his legs twisted together into something unnatural.  I reached for the dispeller, then stopped myself.  I wasn't sure what would happen if the magic was removed in an eyeblink.  He might snap back to normal or it might make matters worse.

Alana motioned for me to stay with her as she walked down the corridor.  I kept a wary distance, ready to jump out of her way if she lunged at me.  My protections could handle her hexes, but she might resort to simply hitting me.  Or casting a spell that would get around my protections, somehow.  Dad had warned us, a long time before it became clear that I had no magic, that Objects of Power didn't make one invincible.  Akin’s great-great-grandfather would probably agree with him.

“It could have been Isabella,” Alana said.  Her voice tightened.  “Or Akin.”

I felt an odd sensation in my chest.  Akin?  No, it couldn't have been Akin.  He had his flaws - everyone did - but he’d never been openly malicious.  If he’d wanted to, he could probably have ensured that Magister Tallyman dumped me as his assistant a long time before I discovered my true talents - or worse.  He might be Isabella’s brother, but he didn't share her personality.  I supposed it was good to know that someone lacking in malice would eventually inherit House Rubén.

“No,” I said.  “It couldn't have been him.”

“He has the power,” Alana said.  “And the cause.”

I shook my head.  “Not him.”

Alana let out a long sigh.  “You do remember he’s a Rubén?”

“I remember you’re an Aguirre,” I told her.  “That doesn't stop you from being unpleasant.”

“He’s the Rubén Heir,” Alana snapped.  “He’ll grow up into ... into his father!”

I said nothing.  It was hard to believe that my parents had been young once.  I’d seen portraits of my mother as a young girl, only a year or two older than me, but I just couldn't accept that the gangly girl in the painting had grown into my elegant mother.  It was reassuring, in a way, yet ... it was also unbelievable.  I just couldn't draw a line between the girl and my mother, any more than I could see Akin growing into his father.  Isabella, on the other hand ...

Alana grabbed my arm as we rounded the corner.  “You really should stay away from him,” she warned.  “Or one day you’ll wind up a prisoner!”

I flinched.  I’d been a prisoner.  And she knew it.

“I was a prisoner,” I said.  I wrenched my arm free.  “And Akin helped me to escape!”

“And that also means he knows how to contain you,” Alana said.  “Or do you think you can escape again?”

I felt a surge of anger.  “Do you expect your friends to betray you too?”

Alana’s face darkened, then smoothed into a blank mask as someone rushed towards us.  I looked up and blinked in surprise.  Val was coming right at us, holding a large broadsheet in one hand.  There was a picture of Carioca Rubén on the front cover.

“Is it true?”  Val demanded, too excited to realise that she was practically supplicating two firsties.  “Is it true?”

I frowned.  “Is what true?”

Alana reached out and snatched the broadsheet out of Val’s hand.  The older girl let it go, much to my surprise.  Val was a lowerclassman and didn’t have the power to assign lines, but no one would have batted an eyelid if she’d given Alana a smack on the head and taken back her paper.  Mum would have been more upset about Alana’s bad manners than her daughter getting smacked.  Taking something without asking was very rude.

I looked at Val.  “What does it say?”

Alana giggled.  “You’re in trouble.”

“Lord Carioca Rubén has filed suit in Magus Court, claiming that your family has stolen a priceless family heirloom,” Val said.  “Is it true?”

“This is all your fault,” Alana said.  Her voice was muffled by the broadsheet.  “If you’d had the wit not to let him touch the sword ...”

Val tilted her head.  “Who touched the sword?”

I gave her a sharp look.  “None of your business.”

Alana tossed me the broadsheet.  “Let’s see,” she said.  “Lady Devonshire is marrying again, this time to - gasp - someone from the other side of the Great Desert.  The Crown Prince is planning to conclude his state visit to Shallot with a formal party, to be held at Jude’s ... oh, and we’re being sued in Magus Court.  This is definitely all your fault.”

I bit down on several nasty answers as I opened the broadsheet and scanned the lead story.  It was fairly short on facts - and long on ill-informed speculation and remarks from people who had absolutely nothing to do with the affair - but the basic details were accurate.  House Rubén’s Family Sword had fallen into our hands and Lord Carioca Rubén was suing for its immediate return.  Magus Court - or perhaps the Crown Prince - would hear the case soon enough.

This could be bad, I thought, as I turned the page.  On one hand, no one would believe we’d actually stolen the blade.  It wasn't easy to steal a Family Sword in working condition.  But on the other hand, the Great Houses wouldn't be keen to set a precedent that allowed us to keep the sword.  They’d back House Rubén for fear that they’d find such a precedent used against them later on.  This could be very bad.

“I presume you repaired the blade,” Val said.  “Or am I wrong?”

Alana shot me a look that said, very clearly, shut up.  I rolled my eyes, then returned to the first page and read the story again.  It didn't come out and say that I’d repaired the blade, but there were enough hints in the text for someone to put the pieces together and work out the truth.  The Great Houses knew how my talents worked, now.  They wouldn't take long to demand that family heirlooms were automatically returned to their original owners.

“This could be a nightmare,” I said.

I shook my head as I tried to consider the implications.  Magister Tallyman had a small collection of broken Objects of Power.  And he was hardly the only researcher who’d been taking them apart in hopes of finding out how they worked.  None of them were going to be happy if they were told a repaired Object of Power had to be handed back to the original owners.  If, of course, the original owners could even be traced.  It had been sheer bad luck that Akin had touched the repaired sword.

Val smiled.  “Can I quote you on that?”

“No, you cannot,” Alana snapped.  “Cat is a child.  You cannot quote her - you cannot even interview her - without her father’s permission.”

I resisted the urge to point out that Alana was, if anything, only a few minutes older than me.  She certainly wasn't an adult, let alone my legal guardian.  But she had managed to distract Val for a few seconds.  I took advantage of the silence to flick through the rest of the paper in hopes of something that might distract attention from me.  But there was nothing.  Even the Crown Prince’s planned celebration had been pushed back four pages.

Alana took the broadsheet out of my hands and passed it back to Val.  “We’re going in for breakfast now,” she said.  “Go away.”

Val scowled at her, but said nothing.  I met her eyes for a moment, then followed Alana into the dining hall.  It was immediately apparent that everyone had read the broadsheet and put two and two together.  Students - even staff - stared at me as I walked across the room and collected a plate of greasy bacon and eggs, then hurried over to sit next to Rose.  There was no sign of Akin.

“I had to shower again,” Rose said.  Her face was oddly tinted, as if she’d splashed herself with ink.  Even her hair looked darker.  “How is she?”

“Sleeping,” Alana said.  There was a note of cold anger in her voice.  “Go away.”

“She doesn't have to go anywhere,” I snapped.  I made a show of ignoring Alana.  “Have you seen Akin?”

Alana made a rude sound.  Rose ignored her.

“He bolted his cereal, then hurried out of the room.”  Rose looked concerned.  “What happened?”

“Oh, nothing much,” Alana said.  “Cat’s just sparked off a lawsuit.”

Rose glanced at me.  “What?”

“Akin’s father has decided to sue for the sword,” I told her.  I didn't think she’d have had a chance to read the paper.  Even if she had, she might not have been able to parse out the words.  Her reading skills had been improving by leaps and bounds, but she still had problems with uncommon words.  “And it’s going to be bad.”

“It could spark off a war,” Alana said.  “We can't simply give them the sword and they have nothing we want to trade for it.”

“Nothing they’d want to give up, anyway,” I muttered.  The Family Sword was pretty much priceless.  They’d have to figure out a way to put a price on priceless if they wanted to trade for the wretched blade.  “I suppose we could ask for their shares in the latest set of sailing clippers.”

Alana snorted.  “And the return on investment would be minimal.”

“It wouldn't matter,” I said.  “We wouldn't have made any investment.”

I contemplated the idea for a long moment.  Outfitting a clipper ship for the voyage to Hangchow was expensive, even for one of the Great Houses.  It was why my father preferred to own shares rather than entire ships.  It spread the costs over a number of different investors, just in case the ship never returned home.  And trading shares in a new set of ships for the sword might just work.  We could claim we hadn't simply given the sword away, while they could claim they’d short-changed us.

“That would still give them the sword,” Alana said.  “Unless you want to break it again?”

I shook my head, violently.  My braids swung from side to side.  There was no way I could bring myself to do that.  The sword was a work of art.  Maybe it wasn't irreplaceable now, but ... no, I’d sooner keep it locked away forever than destroy it.

Rose cleared her throat.  “Why don’t you just give them the sword?  It’s useless to you, isn't it?”

Alana rewarded her with a sneer.  “And the implications of that would be staggering,” she said.  “But I wouldn't expect you to know that.”

I gritted my teeth.  Dad had wanted me to spend more time with Alana, hadn’t he?  But I rather figured this wasn't what he’d meant.

“If we gave them the sword,” I said slowly, “they’d look like supplicants.  They’d look weak, which would make their clients edge away from them.  It would also make us look strong, as it would suggest we didn't care about putting such a weapon in their hands.  Ideally, they’d have to pay us for the sword or force us to surrender it.  But they can't give us anything in trade that would come close to the value of the sword, nor can they force us to give it up without a fight.  It won’t end well.”

I studied my hands, thoughtfully.  Perhaps we could put up a show of resistance, before conceding the sword.  But it wouldn’t fool the other Great Houses.  They’d know we only made a token fight for the sword.  And who knew what conclusions they'd draw from that?

Dad will have to decide, I thought.  He’ll have to make the final call.

I finished my breakfast and looked around.  Isabella was missing too, although I spotted two of her former cronies eating eggs and ham on the far side of the chamber.  Their faces looked tinted too.  It would probably be weeks before the last traces of the potions faded away.  They looked back at me, their eyes sharp.  I groaned inwardly as I realised just many others were invested in the lawsuit.  All of the Great Houses would be affected.

Alana stood.  “Do not give away the house,” she said, tartly.  “And I want to talk to you later.”

She strode off before I had a chance to reply.  I resisted the urge to make a rude face at her retreating back.  Spending time with her wasn't going to be easy ... even if I wanted to spend time with her.  My evening was already planned, anyway.  I was going to forge a small collection of stirrers for potions class.

Rose nudged me.  “Did she do it?”

I froze.  That had honestly never occurred to me.  Alana had been right next to Bella when the cauldron exploded, perfectly placed to curse the bubbling liquid or simply drop something dangerous into the brew when Bella was looking in the other direction.  Done properly, she might even have escaped Magistra Loanda’s prying eyes.  But ...

“I don’t think so,” I said.  I could see Alana hexing Bella, but not something that might easily have been fatal.  We would all have been questioned under truth spells if Bella had died.  And if Alana had cast the spell, she would have been expelled from Jude’s and disowned by the family.  “She wouldn't risk permanent harm.”

“She hexed you time and time again,” Rose reminded me.  “One of those spells could have killed you.”

“Not directly,” I said.  “An accident ...”

I shivered, despite myself.  There were stories, odd stories and rumours whispered in the darkness, about low-power magicians being disowned from the Great Houses - or worse.  It made me wonder, sometimes, if the Great Houses had disowned Zeros, rather than learning how to use their talents.  Alana might not have meant to kill my powerless self, but if she had killed me by accident ... the family council might have been quietly relieved.  My mere existence suggested that magic was fading from our bloodline.

But my talents are unique, I told myself firmly.  And they can never say I’m useless again.

The bell rang.  I sighed.

“We have Questioning Assumptions,” I said, glancing at my timetable.  “We’d better not be late.”

Chapter Twelve

“So,” Rose said as we filed into the classroom, “where do you think we’re supposed to sit?”

I looked around.  The desks and chairs were gone.  The panelled floor had been covered by carpet, leaving us nowhere to sit.  Unless we were meant to sit on the floor, of course.  I supposed it made a certain kind of sense.  Magister Niven liked making us do odd things, just to ensure we learnt to question our assumptions.  I liked him more than I cared to admit.

A ... person, wrapped from head to toe in a giant black garment, strode into the room.  “Sit anywhere you like,” Magister Niven ordered.  The voice was the same, thankfully, but the garment removed all traces of individuality.  I’d never been sure of anything about Magister Niven, even his age and gender.  It was hard to tell if he was male or female.  “And tell me ... where are the desks?”

I reached for my spectacles and peered through them.  The desks weren't invisible, as far as I could tell.  The garment covering him, hiding everything, was real too.  I returned my spectacles to my pocket before he could yank them away again and sat down on the floor, leaning against the stone wall.  Akin and Rose sat down next to me.

“No answer?”  Magister Niven looked displeased.  “Where are the desks?”

“You took them away,” Clarian Bolingbroke said.  She’d been giving me odd looks as we waited for the door to open.  House Bolingbroke presumably had its own collection of broken Objects of Power it wanted repaired.  “To teach us something, I imagine.”

“How true,” Magister Niven said.  “And what, pray tell, do I want to teach you?”

Isabella stuck up a hand.  “That teachers can be very annoying at times?”

“I can find better ways to annoy you, if you wish,” Magister Niven said.  “Any other guesses?”

“You want us to unlock our minds,” Akin said.  “And study in groups.”

“More like think in groups,” Magister Niven said.  He walked to the front of the class and sat down on an invisible force.  It looked as though he was hovering in the air.  “The standard arrangement of desks makes it clear that I am in charge, leading the class, while you listen and pay attention.  Or at least pretend to pay attention.  This arrangement, however, tries to suggest that you are equals.”

He paused.  “There are matters we need to cover.  But something new has appeared which has forced me to alter my lesson plan.”

I felt my heart sink.  I knew exactly what had happened.

Magister Niven clicked his gloved fingers.  A copy of the broadsheet appeared in front of him.  “Stunning happenings at Jude’s,” he said, reading the first line in an utterly unenthusiastic voice.  “Great discoveries ... blah, blah, blah.  Objects of Power repaired ... yeah, yeah, yeah.  Ding dong merrily on high ... do you think the writer gets paid by the word?  He’s managed to pad out a couple of paragraphs into three thousand words.”

“Probably,” Alana muttered.

Magister Niven inclined his hooded gaze towards her.  “The basic facts are simple enough,” he said.  “A Family Sword was repaired.  And then it was picked up by a member of its former family.  And now they are suing for custody.”

I felt eyes turning towards me.  Everyone knew what had happened, everyone.  I looked at Akin and saw that his face had reddened.  Isabella, leaning against the far wall, looked angry beyond words.  I wondered what she’d have done if she’d been the first to touch the wretched blade.  Try to simply take it out of the school?  It might have solved many problems if she had.

“So,” Magister Niven said.  “What makes a family?”

I leaned back as he seemed to look at me.  It wasn't easy to tell which way his eyes were actually looking, not when they were hidden behind the hood.  Was he peering at me?  Or was he focusing on Akin or Rose or ... there was no way to be sure.  An answer came to mind, but I pushed it down.  Magister Niven was very good at taking the first answer we gave him and dismantling it, piece by piece.  I didn't want to engage in word games.

“A family is a group of people who are related,” Troyon said, finally.  “A mother and a father and their children, their grandparents and aunts and uncles ... all related by blood.”

Magister Niven seemed to nod.  “And what about adopted children?”

I frowned.  It was rare for a child to be put up for adoption, unless their entire family had been wiped out.  Normally, there was always a responsible adult who could take custody of the child.  I knew people who’d been raised by their grandparents, or their uncles and aunts.  I didn't know anyone who’d been raised in a whole new family.

Unless they were fostered, I thought slowly.  But they wouldn’t really be part of the family.

“They wouldn't share the family’s blood,” Troyon said.  “Would they?”

“There are potions that assist adoptions,” Magister Niven informed him.  “But yes, an adopted child wouldn't share the family’s bloodline.”

He paused.  “Now tell me ... how many of you can trace your bloodline back to Year 1001?”

I instantly felt bad for Rose.  She was pretty much the only person in the class - certainly the only girl - who couldn't.  The Great Houses had worked hard to establish that their family trees dated back well before 1001, even if they’d had to use guesswork to fill in some of the blanks.  A handful of families could even date themselves all the way back to Year 1, when the Thousand-Year Empire had been established.  Akin’s family claimed to have existed in the hazy years before the Eternal City had started to conquer most of the known world.  They might even be right.

“Good,” Magister Niven said, after making a show of counting hands.  “Now tell me something else.  How much genetic heritage do you share with your ancestors?”

I exchanged a puzzled glance with Akin.  We were descended from our ancestors, weren't we?  Even questioning someone’s heritage was grounds for a duel.  And ... my family’s records went back over a thousand years, right back to the days we'd moved to Shallot to take advantage of being some distance from the Eternal City.  We could prove our story ... couldn't we?

Magister Niven might have smiled.  It was impossible to tell.

“You are the products of your parents,” he said.  “Each of you is one-half your mother and one-half your father.  Should you have children of your own, your parents and your partner’s parents will each contribute a quarter of the children’s genetics.  Or, put another way, one-half of you comes from your father, one-quarter of you comes from your paternal grandfather and one-eighth of you comes from your paternal great-grandfather.  So ...”

He paused, just for a second.  “How much of you comes from the founders of your bloodline?”

I tried to work it out, carefully.  The family was supposed to be around 1500 years old.  If each generation lasted a hundred years, there were fifteen generations between the original founders and me.  And that meant ... was I only one-fifteenth of the founders?  Or ... or what?

“A very small amount,” Akin said, flatly.

“It would be difficult to calculate precisely,” Magister Niven agreed.  He tilted his head.  “But you’re right, yes.  It would be a very small amount.”

He pressed his fingertips together.  “So ... riddle me this.  How can you - how can any of you - still use the blood-bonded swords?”

“They’re the Family Swords,” Isabella said, in a tone that would probably have earned her a week’s detention with any other teacher.  “They belong to our bloodline.”

“But we’ve just established that you only have a very slight link to your ancestors,” Magister Niven reminded her.  He didn't sound angry.  “So how can you use the swords?  Perhaps more to the point, why can’t others use the swords?”

“They’re not related to us,” Isabella protested.

“But they are,” Magister Niven said.  “There was - there still is - a great deal of inbreeding between the Great Houses.  Some of the original City Fathers no longer exist, formally, but their genetics live on in you.  You may have a relative who doesn't share your name, yet shares the same quantity of founder blood.  Why can't they use the swords?”

I tried to think of an answer, but nothing came to mind.  Blood was involved in forging the swords, but ... Magister Niven was right.  Either there was a point where there just wasn't enough blood to trigger the sword or anyone with even a drop of family blood could use the sword.  And if that was the case ... I hastily ran through a mental list of everyone who’d tried to use the blade.  I was pretty sure most of them did have a link to House Rubén.

“Because they don’t have enough family blood,” I said, slowly.

“Perhaps,” Magister Niven said.  “But how long will it be until your descendants simply can't use their sword?”

I nodded, slowly.  I’d been able to use the Family Sword, but ... I had distant relatives who might well have a closer connection to the original founders than me.  Could they use the sword?  I didn't know.  I didn't know if Dad knew.  And ... Magister Niven was right.  There were so many blood-links between the various families that the swords practically had to belong to multiple families.

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 ...

... But there were two tiny stones lying on the dusty floor.

We walked into a trap, I realised as I scrambled for my spectacles.  And a nasty one too, if Akin didn't sense it.

I wiped dust off the lenses, then donned the spectacles.  The corridor was suddenly awash in magic.  A trigger - a network of spells too light to be easily sensed against the school’s wards - and a very nasty booby trap, hidden beneath the dust.  It looked more like the protections around Aguirre Hall than something I’d expect to find in a school.  Akin and Rose had been turned into stones and rendered utterly helpless.  I’d have been transformed too if I hadn't been wearing the bracelet.  We would all have been trapped until whoever set up the trap came to see who they’d caught.

Clever, I thought.  The designer might already know his trap had been sprung.  And yet ... if the designer had already left school, he might never know what had happened.  Clever and vicious.

I wanted to hurry.  The designer might already be on the way.  But I knew I had to be very careful.  Dispelling the wrong spell - or even the right one - might trigger off another reaction.  It didn't look as though the booby trap had been tied into the school’s wards, but that didn't mean there wasn't a second trap hidden nearby.  Dad had taught me to watch carefully for snares that targeted rescuers as well as victims.  It took me nearly ten minutes to be sure I’d determined which parts of the spell could be safely dispelled.

Bracing myself, I lunged forward.  The bracelet started to warm, but I didn't allow it to stop me from striking the spells with the dispeller.  They came apart, setting off a whole series of spells that flared in all directions.  I muttered a rude word under my breath and grabbed my friends, yanking their stony forms off the floor.  The bracelet turned red-hot again, but this time I was ready.  I was halfway back down the corridor by the time the pain registered ...

... And I could hear someone coming from the other direction.

“Hang on,” I whispered.  I wasn't sure if Akin and Rose could hear me, but it didn't matter.  I needed to reassure them.  “We have to run.”

I made my way down the corridors as fast as I could go, hurrying back to the entrance.  I didn't think the footsteps were coming after me - their owner would have to get through his own spell first - but I kept moving until I sprang through the entrance and into the nearest bathroom.  Thankfully, it was empty.  I dispelled the charms on Rose and Akin and watched them return to normal.  They both looked badly shaken.

“I didn't even sense the trap,” Akin said, as he cast a spell to clean his clothes.  “That ... that got me before I could react.”

“It was designed to conceal itself,” I said.  I would have been more impressed if we hadn't walked right into the trap.  Next time, I promised myself, I’d make sure to wear the spectacles at all times.  Whatever tricks had been used to conceal the trap from Akin hadn't fooled my spectacles.  “Perhaps we should go somewhere else.”

“Perhaps we should,” Rose agreed.  “Who do you think set up the trap?”

“An upperclassman, perhaps,” Akin said.  “They set up their own clubhouse in the abandoned parts of the school.”

I nodded.  It wasn't as if any of the abandoned classrooms were in regular use.  I could easily believe that an upperclassman had taken over a couple of rooms and booby-trapped the entrances, just to make sure no one could get in without permission.  Upperclassmen liked their privacy.  They didn't even have to share a dorm if they were willing to pay the extra fees.

And there was nothing to be gained by tattling on them.

“Let’s go to the roof,” Rose said, charming her clothes clean.  “It might be more peaceful up there.”

I let her clean my clothes - it wasn't something I could do for myself - then lead us up the stairwell to the roof.  The upper levels were almost completely deserted, even though it was nearly lunchtime.  I guessed that most of the lowerclassmen were still in bed, or in the library, or even - perhaps - in the arena.  Who knew?

A warmish wind - with hints of ice - blew across the rooftop as we stepped out of the door.  I pulled my shirt tight, wishing I’d thought to bring a coat.  It wasn't cold - yet - but I was sure it was going to rain.  The weather in Shallot was often unpredictable.  Dad said it was something to do with the high concentrations of magic in the Eternal City, only a few hundred miles away.  I wasn't so sure myself.

“So,” Rose said, as we ambled over to the battlements.  “Why are your families feuding anyway?”

I exchanged glances with Akin.  Rose didn't know ... of course she didn't know.  She hadn’t been raised in High Society; she hadn't been told who she needed to support, who she needed to cut dead, who she needed to avoid at all costs.  Of course she didn't know ...

“It’s a long story,” I mumbled.

“It’s very simple,” Akin said, throwing a glance at me.  “My family is the oldest in the city.  That’s not bragging, Rose.  That’s a simple fact.  We can trace our blood all the way back to the days before the Eternal City gave birth to the Thousand-Year Empire.  My ancestors were among the original Ninety-Nine Senators.  We helped found the empire.”

Rose looked at me.  I nodded.

“One of my ancestors, my very great-grandfather, was essentially told that he’d manage the family’s affairs in Shallot,” Akin added.  “He wasn't given much of a choice.”

“He was basically kicked out of the Eternal City,” I put in.  “None of the stories actually agree on what he did to deserve it, but he was told to get lost and never come back.”

“Correct,” Akin said, irritated.  “This was over a thousand years ago, of course.  Shallot was a tiny little trading town, so tiny that people sniggered when House Aguirre moved itself completely to Shallot.  They thought the idiots were locking themselves out of the Eternal City.  And then both families had the last laugh, because their descendents were the only survivors when the Eternal City fell.  My family - and Cat’s - were among the original City Fathers.  Unfortunately, over the years, we lost most of our power.  It took us several hundred years to climb back to the top.”

“With my family the only one between yours and being right at the top,” I said.

“And so my father has been feuding with Cat’s,” Akin said.  He had the grace to look embarrassed.  “It’s a little more complicated than that, but you get the basic idea.”

“It’s silly,” Rose said, petulantly.  “Does it really matter who’s right at the top?”

“I know,” Akin said.  I could hear bitter regret in his voice.  “But my father thinks so.”

“So does mine,” I said.  “The family on top gets the best clients.  And as long as they’re careful, they get to stay on top.”

I looked over the city, silently picking out famous buildings and landmarks.  Magus Court, clearly visible even as mist started to drift in from the sea; McDonald Hall, glowing with unearthly light; the Crown Prince’s flotilla, anchored on the very edge of our immense harbour ... I’d heard that a delegation from North Cairnbulg were on the way, just to visit their princess and her husband.  Shallot was going to be paying host to them ...

There was a blinding flash of light, from Water Shallot.  A massive fireball rose into the air, followed rapidly by the sound of thunder.  An explosion ...

Rose stared.  “What was that?”

“I don’t know,” Akin said, shocked.  I could hear the sound of panic as smoke billowed over the city.  “Cat?”

“I don’t know either,” I said.  “But I think we'd better get inside.”

Chapter Fourteen

Alarms started to ring as we made our way down the stairs.

“ATTENTION ALL STUDENTS, ATTENTION ALL STUDENTS,” the Castellan’s voice thundered.  It echoed through the wards, utterly impossible to ignore.  “RETURN TO YOUR DORMS AT ONCE.  RETURN TO YOUR DORMS AT ONCE.”

“We’d better hurry,” Akin said.  “We don’t want to be caught outside.”

I nodded and started to run.  Other students were bursting out of study rooms and clattering down the stairs themselves, mingling together into a vast tide of humanity.  They spoke in hushed voices, trying to understand what had happened.  We’d been the only ones on the roof.  It was quite possible that we were the only ones who’d seen the explosion.

“We should tell them,” Rose said.  Some of the rumours were already starting to get out of hand.  Some idiot had been experimenting with potions, again.  Another idiot had been testing military spells without proper shielding, again.  A third idiot had blown up the South Wing, again.  “Cat ...”

“Not yet,” I said, as we reached the dorm level.  A pair of upperclassmen were standing by the doors, directing us to our halls.  “Tell them later, when we figure out what happened.”

“Good idea,” Akin said.  “But ...”

“Cat,” a voice snapped.  I looked up to see Sandy, looking as if she was stressed out of her mind.  “Where have you been?”

“Up on the roof,” I said, slowing to a halt.  “I ...”

“And you should be in your dorm,” Sandy said, glaring at Akin.  “Do a hundred lines when you get back to your bed.  I will go straight to my dorm when ordered to do so.”

Akin looked irked.  “Yes.”

He nodded to us, then hurried off.  His dorm was on the other side of the building.  I hoped he wouldn't get in trouble from his Dorm Head as well as Sandy.  A hundred lines weren't bad, but it might get worse.  His Dorm Head would have to account for all of his charges.

“And you two can do a hundred lines too,” Sandy added.  She jabbed a finger towards the door.  “Get in, now.”

There was no point in arguing, not when she was clearly in a bad mood, so we walked past her and into the dorm.  The dorm was filling up rapidly, with six of our eight dormmates already present.  They’d probably still been in bed, the uncharitable part of my mind noted rudely.  They had never felt the urge to go exploring at weekends when they could just stay in bed until lunchtime.  Sandy wouldn't kick them out on the weekend.

“Sit down on your beds and wait,” Sandy called.  “Don’t even go to the toilet.”

I shrugged and walked over to the bed, careful to check for traps before I pushed back the drapes.  Isabella should have left me alone, after I’d beaten her in a duel, but ... she’d been slowly regaining her confidence over the past few weeks.  And besides, there were other girls in the dorm.  Quite a few of them would want to push at me, just to make it clear that they weren’t intimidated by me.  I hadn't thought that was in doubt.

Rose nudged me.  “What do we do?”

“A hundred lines, it seems,” I muttered back.  Sandy was clearly in a very bad mood.  I hoped she’d snap out of it soon.  If she kept being unpleasant ... we could make an official complaint, but if the Castellan ruled against us we’d get double.  Mum had told me that some Dorm Heads turned into tyrants, teaching valuable lessons about life to their charges, yet I hadn’t figured Sandy for one of them.  “And wait.”

I sat down on my bed and reached for a book.  Rose sighed and picked up a book of her own, a guide to herbal ingredients for basic potions.  I made a mental note to go through what she’d learned with her later and point out all the things the book didn't say.  It was written for novices and whoever had written it had left out a number of tricks to make one’s potions a little more potent.  Mum had taught me, back when she'd hoped that potions would unlock my magic.  But it had been useless ...

Not entirely useless, I thought.  I can brew the potion perfectly.  And if someone does the magic for me, I can get it to work.

Sandy chased Isabella and Zeya McDonald into the dorm, then closed the door with a bang.  I glanced at it through my spectacles and saw a handful of locking spells sliding into place.  I’d never seen that before, not in the dorms.  I wasn't sure if we were being locked in or someone else was being locked out.  Sandy paced to the centre of the room, her body glowing with protective spells.  It looked as though she’d layered them on with a trowel.

I removed my spectacles as Sandy glared around the room.  “We are locked in here until further notice,” she said.  “You are not to leave until they give the all-clear.  Anyone who tries will be writing lines until their hand falls off.”

A ripple of unease ran around the room, but no one had the nerve to protest.  I didn’t really blame them.  I didn't have the nerve either.  Sandy was clearly in a very bad mood.  I lowered my head to the book, trying to read, but it was hard to focus on the chapter.  I kept thinking about the explosion.  It was impossible to be sure, but it looked to have been far too close to buildings my family owned.

“It can't be a fire,” Gayle Fitzwilliam said.  “They’d be chasing us out of the building, surely.”

“Someone probably managed to create a poisonous gas in a potions lab,” Clarian Bolingbroke said.  She snickered.  “Or maybe it’s just very smelly.”

“And so we’re up here, waiting to be choked,” Gayle said.  “That doesn't sound fair.”

“The Castellan believes that this is the safest place for us.”  Sandy sounded a little calmer now, thankfully.  “And there are hundreds of wards running through the school.  Any fire would be snuffed out before it could reach the dorms.”

I wasn't so sure.  Magister Von Rupert had shown me the wards - and the Object of Power at their heart.  It was hard to believe that the wards were still perfect ... no, they weren't perfect.  The Object of Power had been designed to protect a far smaller building.  I had a great deal of respect for the Charm Masters who’d tied countless other wards into the network, but it wasn't particularly stable.  Cracks had been appearing in the system even before Rolf and his friends had tricked me into making a wardbreaker.

Isabella sniffed.  “Perhaps you did something,” she said, looking at me.  “What were you doing while we were tossing a ball around?”

I looked back at her, evenly.  She was wearing a shirt and shorts, instead of her uniform or weekend outfit.  She'd been down at the Arena, then.  Her hair was a mess too, indicative of just how quickly she’d had to leave the changing rooms and run for the dorms.  If someone reported Isabella to her mother, Isabella would be in serious trouble.  Her hair coming loose in public ...?  Tut, tut.  I would have felt sorry for her if she hadn't been such a pain.

“We were studying,” Rose said.  “Some of us actually have to work.”

Isabella gave me a sharp look.  “Is there any point in you studying?  It isn’t as if you can pass the exams.”

I felt a flash of hot anger.  “I had to learn how to forge,” I reminded her, sharply.  “And I have to do my own calculations before I forge Objects of Power ...”

“This is all your fault,” Isabella snapped.  “You should just give us back the sword!”

“I didn’t take it from you,” I snapped back.  I’d have been in real trouble if I’d stolen the sword, but I had an excellent alibi.  My grandfather hadn't been alive when the sword was lost.  “The chain of ownership was broken!”

“No, it wasn't,” Isabella said.  “The sword is ours!”

“And Cat repaired it,” Rose said.  She leaned forward, one hand raised in a casting pose.  “I think she should just break it again, if you don’t ...”

Isabella’s face turned red.  She jabbed her hand at Rose, firing off a nasty-looking hex at her.  Rose deflected it with an effort - the hex slammed into the ceiling and vanished in a flash of red light - and threw back a hex of her own.  Isabella caught it on her wards, then tossed two hexes at Rose in quick succession ... and froze.  My bracelet grew warm, just for a second.  I didn't have to look at Rose to know she was frozen too.

Sandy walked towards us, cold anger written all over her face.  She’d tried to freeze me too ... I gritted my teeth, wondering if she’d order me to remove my protections.  The bracelet and earrings would be easy to remove, but I didn't want to show her where I’d hidden the other two.  Alana had taught me that it was better to keep a couple out of sight.

“There is an emergency,” Sandy said.  Her voice was so quiet that I couldn't help flinching away.  “And you’re wasting energy on petty feuds.”

It wasn't a petty feud, I wanted to say.  Isabella would not have wanted to destroy a priceless family heirloom, any more than I wanted to destroy it.  But she didn't know that, did she?  She probably thought I’d take the sword out from under my bed and prise out the gemstone on the spot.  Or ... the words choked in my mouth.  I didn't want to say anything.

“You two can stay that way until they let us go,” Sandy told them.  She looked at me.  “And as for you ...”

She jabbed a finger at my feet.  I looked down, just in time to see the floor start to melt into ... something.  It rose up around my feet and turned hard, again, a moment before I could yank my feet back.  I was trapped.  I stared at my feet for a moment, then looked up at Sandy.  A faint smirk was playing over her face.  She’d clearly been waiting for a chance to humiliate me.

“You can stay there too, until I release you,” Sandy added.  She reached into my pocket and removed the punishment book, dumping it in my lap.  “Perhaps you can start by doing your lines.”

I scowled after her as she turned and started to pace the room, daring someone - anyone - to speak.  No one dared.  Sandy had changed in the past month ... and, in truth, I couldn’t blame her.  Any hopes and dreams she’d had were gone now.  I wondered if my father could help, but ... I knew he wouldn’t.  Sandy wasn't important enough for him to expend influence saving her career.

And besides, she’ll have a reasonably complete education, I thought.  She can just go to another city or even leave the country altogether.

I glanced at Rose, helplessly frozen, then bent my head over the punishment book.  Sandy was right.  I might as well get on with the lines.  There wasn't anything else to do.  The book I’d wanted to read was out of reach and I couldn't summon it to me.  No one else would risk the wrath of Sandy by passing it to me ... my blood ran cold as I realised what Sandy had actually done.  She'd shown everyone in the dorm a way of getting around my protections.

I’ll have to improve the design, I told myself, although I wasn't sure how.  Perhaps if I ...

I worked my way through it, slowly.  Something powerful enough to cancel spells so close to me would also poke holes in the school’s protections.  Or simply cancel the light-spells that illuminated the building.  Or ... I wasn't sure what I could do.  There was no point in trying to use the dispeller on the transfigured floor because there was no spell to cancel.  Perhaps I’d be better practicing jumping out of my shoes at a moment’s notice.

“Get on with your lines,” Sandy snapped at me.  “Unless you want detention for the rest of the day?”

We’re already in detention, I thought, sourly.  How much worse can it get?

I pushed the thought out of my mind as I wrote the lines, one by one.  My wrist was aching uncomfortably by the time I’d finished, reminding me that I really didn't want to have to do more lines.  But ...

The bell rang.  “ALL STUDENTS ARE TO REPORT TO THE GREAT HALL,” the Castellan’s voice said.  “ALL STUDENTS ARE TO REPORT TO THE GREAT HALL.”

Sandy unfroze Isabella and Rose, glared Isabella into silence when it looked like she was going to say something, then marched to the front of the room.  I didn't see her cast a spell, but my feet came free a second later.  It puzzled me, if only because I had no idea what she’d done.  I could think of a dozen spells that would turn the floor into a trap, but ... I promised myself that I’d go to the library and do some research, later.  Or maybe ask her when she was in a better mood.

“Follow me down the stairs, crocodile formation,” Sandy ordered, curtly.  “And be quiet.”

I swallowed my indignation as I rubbed my aching legs.  How old did she think we were?  Five?  We weren't little babies.  She’d want us to hold hands next.  But there was no point in arguing.  We followed her down the stairs, feeling alarmingly ridiculous until we saw that everyone was following their Dorm Head like baby ducks following their mother.  Even the upperclassmen were walking in lines.   At least we weren't alone.

“Take the benches at the front,” Sandy told us, as we entered the Great Hall.  “And then sit down and wait.”

I rolled my eyes at Rose, then looked around for Akin.  He was sitting with a couple of other boys, his back turned to us.  I wanted to go over and chat with him, but Sandy would probably just take it as an excuse to give me more lines.  She wasn't the only upperclassman in a bad mood, either.  They were all snapping and snarling at their charges.  I supposed it was a sign of just how serious things had become.

Rose elbowed me.  “I thought Isabella wasn't allowed to rag on you anymore.”

“Me too,” I said.  I’d won the duel.  Technically, Isabella wasn't allowed to give me a hard time until we were resorted into different dorms at the start of next year.  If, of course, I was allowed to return to Jude’s for another year.  Isabella was right about one thing.  There wasn't much point in me attending most of the classes.  “You think I should make an issue of it?”

Rose looked at Sandy, then shrugged.  “Maybe not.”

Silence fell, abruptly.  Rose shivered.  Someone had cast a mass silencing spell.  I looked up, just in time to see Castellan Wealden step up and onto the stage.  He looked to have aged ten years over the past few days.  I’d once thought he was too young to run a school.  Now ... he looked old enough to pass for my father.

“I have grim news,” the Castellan said.  “There was an explosion at the warehouses connected to Brendan Docks.”

I shuddered.  Brendan Docks was my family’s territory.  An explosion there meant ... it had to be a deliberate attack.  I didn’t think we were shipping anything explosive through Brendan and, if we had, it certainly wouldn't have been stored there.  The warehouses were meant to store goods briefly, not for days and weeks on end.  And ... my blood ran cold as the implications slowly sank in.  Had anyone been hurt?

“As yet, the cause of the explosion is unknown,” the Castellan told us.  “However, I must caution you against doing anything stupid.  Jude’s is neutral ground.  Your families will agree with me on that.  Behave yourselves.”

I wished, just for a second, that I could confer with Bella.  Or even Alana.  But they were both out of sight.  Isabella was looking smug ... no doubt she’d worked out that the explosion harmed my family more than anyone else, even if no one had been killed.  People would ask questions about just what had been passing through the docks.  Maybe they’d even accuse us of shipping untreated dragon scales without taking proper precautions.

“No one is to leave the school for the rest of the day,” the Castellan said.  His voice was very firm.  I didn't think anyone would dare defy him.  “Lights Out tonight is at nine o’clock, for everyone--” he ignored the rustle of dismay “--and anyone caught outside the dorms afterwards will have detention for the rest of the month.  This is not a game.”

No, I agreed.  The upperclassmen were very proud of their later bedtimes.  They weren't lowerclassmen who had to go to bed early!  This is really not a game.

The Castellan dismissed us and stepped off the stage.  Sandy ordered us to wait until the upperclassmen had departed, then allowed us to go.  Isabella made a beeline for Akin, leaving the rest of us behind.  I looked after her, then winced as someone grabbed my arm.  It was Alana.  She pulled me away from the others, leaving Rose to trail us like a lost fawn.

“That was no accident,” Alana growled, casting a privacy ward.  She glared at Rose until she kept her distance, despite my annoyance.  “That was the first shot in the war.”

I swallowed, hard.  I hoped she was wrong ...

... But I feared she was right.

Chapter Fifteen

Alana, it seemed, was not the only one to believe that the explosion had been far from accidental.  Everyone seemed to be convinced that war was going to break out at any moment.  Students went around in groups, even in the library, looking ready to fight at a moment’s notice.  Everyone cringed when someone dropped a book on the floor or cast a spell without warning.  It was almost a relief to be able to eat dinner, then go straight to the dorms, where Sandy was marching around like a bear with a toothache.  No one dared say a word as we climbed into our beds and went to sleep.

Matters didn't look much better the following morning, as we showered and went down for breakfast.  Isabella was talking quietly to the Macdonald sisters, her words concealed behind a privacy ward.  Clarian Bolingbroke and Gayle Fitzwilliam seemed to be on the verge of hexing each other once again, deterred only by the presence of Sandy, while Yolanda was glancing from face to face as if she didn’t know which way to jump.  I couldn't help feeling sorry for her.  Her family was too weak to stand alone, yet too strong to avoid notice if a real House War broke out.

The boys didn't look much better, I saw at breakfast.  A handful bore wounds from being hexed, while a couple even had black eyes or walked with limps.  The idiots probably didn't want to go to the healers for such minor injuries, although I suspected it was more to do with the shame of actually being hit than being macho.  Magicians weren't supposed to settle their disputes with physical force.  I’d caught Isabella by surprise because the thought of me simply punching her in the nose had never crossed her mind.

“All the upperclassmen are glaring at each other,” Rose muttered, nervously.  There was so much tension in the room that I honestly considered skipping breakfast, even though we had a potions class due to start in half an hour.  Magistra Loanda had been cranky ever since Bella’s accident.  “What are they doing?”

“Forming alliances,” I muttered back.  I knew most of the older boys by sight, although none of them would admit to knowing me.  Or they wouldn't have admitted to knowing me, before my talents became public knowledge.  Taking notice of someone five years younger than themselves was unseemly.  “They’re all linked to the Great Houses in some way.”

I gritted my teeth as I felt a number of stares aimed at me.  Jude’s was meant to be safe, or as safe as a school of magic ever got, but I knew all too well that that wasn't true.  If I could be kidnapped once, I could be kidnapped twice ... or worse.  The wards were supposed to prevent permanent harm, but ... I knew they were starting to leak.  It wouldn't take much to hurt me if they removed my protective Objects of Power.

Or even just pushed me over the battlements, I thought, grimly.  I’d spent some time in the library, but I hadn’t found the spell Sandy had used.  Perhaps she’d invented the spell herself, once she’d seen a need for it.  No one else needed to use a transmuted floor to hold someone in place.  There were plenty of other spells to keep someone immobile.  They just wouldn't work very well on me.  I need to keep my eyes open.

I chewed my breakfast as quickly as I decently could, then looked around in hopes of seeing Akin.  There was no sign of him.  Or Isabella, for that matter.  Normally, I would have seen that as a good thing, but right now I wanted Isabella where I could see her.  I hoped Akin was alright, wherever he was.  A couple of his dormmates were sporting bruises on their cheeks.

“We’d better go,” I said, glancing at my watch.  We had fifteen minutes until class, but I’d be happier away from the watching eyes.  “Do you want to run to the library before class?”

“We’d never get back in time,” Rose said, ruefully.  We could go to the library and then to class on time if we ran, but we’d probably be caught running in the corridor and given more lines.  I didn't think Rose had had time to do the lines Sandy had given her yesterday.  Sandy wouldn't forget she’d assigned them, either.  “But we could sneak past the gardens.”

I shook my head.  I’d avoided the gardens since we’d been kidnapped ... and besides, I didn't want to be too far away from the school.  Who knew what would happen if we ran into the wrong group of students in the gardens.  Technically, older students weren't allowed to attack younger students, particularly firsties, but feuding in the corridors was also forbidden.  I had the feeling that it was only a matter of time before someone bent the rule so hard it snapped.

And we still don’t know who set the trap in the abandoned corridors, I thought.  I was tempted to go back, just to see if I could get past the trap, but I didn't want to expose Akin and Rose again.  Or who blew up the warehouse.

We walked past the broadsheet table - each headline struggling to be more dramatic than the last - and out into the corridor.  More students were gathered in small groups, talking quietly in low voices.  I could see some of them holding spellcasters, even though they were technically forbidden outside the classroom.  Most magicians preferred not to risk getting dependent on them.  I’d used them - I’d forged them - but I was a special case.  Focusing devices worked better for mundane magicians.

Rose caught my arm as we passed through a door and strode onwards, away from the maddening crowd.  “What are we going to do?”

“Keep our heads down, I suppose,” I said.  I couldn't think of any way to calm matters down, short of finding a way to hand over the sword without losing too much face.  Perhaps I should just let Isabella steal it and not make too much of a fuss afterwards.  “I don’t know what else I can do.”

We were halfway to potions class when I heard footsteps behind me.  I tensed, pulling Rose into an alcove and praying she’d have the sense to keep her mouth shut.  Very few people came down to the potions department ahead of time without a very good reason.  We were alone, far from help ... I reached for my spellcaster as the figure came into view.  An upperclassman ...

I blinked.  “Robin?”

Robin Brandon smiled at me.  He was still tall and lanky - he’d changed a lot in the years since I’d known him - but there was a grimness to his face I didn't like at all.  He’d been looking at an apprenticeship with my father, like his brother, when he’d graduated.  He’d also been kind to me when we’d met, although I liked to think the two facts weren’t related.  Last year, everyone had thought I was useless.

“Cat,” Robin said.  He sounded nervous.  “Can I have a word with you?”

“Of course,” I said, wondering how I should approach him.  He’d taken a risk coming after us, knowing that he might be seen.  His peers would mock him for asking a firstie for a favour, although that hadn't stopped many others from doing the same.  I was the sole source of new Objects of Power and everyone knew it.  “What can I do for you?”

Robin glanced at Rose, who flinched back.  “Rose is trustworthy,” I said, stiffly.  Rose was also common-born, just like Robin and his brother.  “She won’t tell anyone about you.”

“Fine,” Robin said, after a moment.  He didn't sound remotely happy.  “Cat, we need you to produce ... items for us.”

My eyes narrowed.  “What sort of items?  And who’s us?”

“Supporters of your family,” Robin said.  “The House War has already started.”

Rose gasped.  “It has?”

“That warehouse exploding was no accident,” Robin said.  “And nor was the attack on a couple of apprentices, making their way home after an evening’s ... ah, an evening’s fun.”

“Ah,” I said.  I didn’t know precisely what the apprentices did when they went out on the town, but I’d overheard enough of their conversations to have a pretty shrewd idea.  Dad would not have approved, if he'd known I’d listened while I was forging.  “What happened?”

“They were attacked by masked men,” Robin said.  “One of them is still in the hospice.”

I swallowed, hard.  Shallot was supposed to be safe, although Mum and Dad had told me - in no uncertain terms - that I was not allowed to leave the hall without an escort.  And yet, very few people would risk attacking the apprentices of a Great House, let alone its scions.  The City Guard would spare no effort to find the people responsible and put them in jail.  If someone had decided to break that taboo ...

“It’s going to get worse,” Robin added, grimly.  “Janelle was hexed this morning by Orion Palladian.  She’s in line for an apprenticeship when she leaves school.”

My throat was dry.  Janelle came from a client family, someone who supported my family in exchange for protection.  And the Palladian Family were clients of House Rubén.  If Orion Palladian was allowed to get away with it - if my family didn't seek to punish him for his conduct - we’d look weak.  Robin had every reason to want a little revenge.

“We need an edge,” Robin said.  “We’re outnumbered.”

Rose cleared her throat.  “Why are you outnumbered?”

Good question, I thought.  Give me time to think.

“Because ... there’s some dispute over who should have the sword,” Robin said.  “And that means that many of our supporters are sitting on the fence.”

“A year ago, the sword was nothing more than junk,” I snapped.  “And that’s true of the rest of their collection of broken Objects of Power!”

“I don’t suppose it matters,” Robin said.  “They can be repaired now.”

I glared at the floor.  It was a joke.  A bitter joke.  I could repair one sword, but could I repair others?  And what about the far more advanced Objects of Power?  I had no idea where to even begin fixing a Teleport Gate.  The entire network had apparently crashed the day the Eternal City fell.  Crystal Balls?  Spying Mirrors?  They were so fragile that when they broke, they were unfixable.  There was a good chance that half the junk I might be asked to repair would stay junk.

“We’re outnumbered,” Robin repeated.  “We need an edge.”

His eyes bored into mine.  I looked down, all too aware that I didn't look remotely commanding.  He was older than me, but I was his social superior ... wasn't I?  I certainly outranked him in the patronage network.  And yet ...

“I don’t know,” I temporised.  What would Dad say?  What would he want me to do?  I couldn't decide if he'd want me to support the family’s clients or stop pouring enhancement potion into boiling cauldrons.  “I could make you some things ...”

“Anything,” Robin said.

I shook my head.  “A protective amulet would keep you from being able to cast spells,” I told him.  There was a reason Rose didn't wear the one I’d made for her.  “I’d have to give the matter some thought.”

“Think quickly,” Robin urged.  “It won’t be long before matters get worse.”

I groaned.  The upperclassmen were supposed to keep the school in order, but this time the upperclassmen were involved in the fighting.  Robin was an upperclassman ... I wanted to tell him to calm things down, but I knew he wouldn't listen.  He couldn't listen.  And that meant I either had to arm him or ... I didn't know what to do!

A door crashed open.  I looked up to see three upperclassmen, walking towards us with grim faces.  They seemed to hesitate, just for a second, as they saw me.  I wasn't sure if they were worried about me producing an Object of Power or simply concerned with the risk of drawing a violent response from my father.  I doubted House Rubén would bother to defend three seventh-years who roughed up a pair of firsties.

“Get behind me,” Robin hissed.  “Now!”

I shook my head as I drew the dispeller from my belt.  Robin was powerful and capable, but he was outnumbered.  I didn't want to hide behind him - or run.  I’d bested adult magicians before, back in the Eternal City.  But those magicians had wanted to take me alive ...

“Run, little girls,” the leader hissed.

“Don’t be a fool, Orion,” Robin snapped.  “Do you think House Rubén will do you any favours if you hurt her?”

I frantically tried to think of a plan, but nothing came to mind.  I could dispel their spells, yet ... what would that do?  I probably didn't have time to draw the spellcaster instead.  My rings were charged, but they only carried enough magic for one or two spells.  Rose wouldn't stand a chance.  They’d smash her personal wards out of existence and then turn her into something helpless.  I wanted her to run.

Orion snapped a finger at Robin. I jumped forward without thinking, allowing the hex to slam into me - and vanish.  Orion’s eyebrows rose.  I could see him hastily recalculating the odds, even as he readied a second hex.  I knew the limitations, but did he?  It was unlikely.  The stories about Objects of Power rarely mentioned limitations ...

“And what,” a new voice demanded, “is going on here?”

I felt my knees sag in relief.  Magistra Loanda had arrived.

“Well?”  Magistra Loanda demanded.  She glared from face to face, her expression daring us to say something stupid.  “Does anyone have anything to say?”

“No, Magistra,” Orion managed.

“I’m glad to hear it,” Magistra Loanda said, sarcastically.  “Detention, all of you.  Cat, Rose; you have a class now.  I’ll discuss your detentions afterwards.  The rest of you, report to Skullion.  I’m sure he’ll have something unpleasant for you to do.”

I allowed myself a sigh of relief as the upperclassmen hurried away.  That could have been nasty.  Magistra Loanda glared at us both, then jabbed a finger at the far door.  We hurried through it, all too aware that she was following us.  I didn't dare say anything to Rose while Magistra Loanda was in earshot.

“You have the backroom again, Cat,” Magistra Loanda said, as the class assembled.  “The rest of us will be brewing a very complex potion indeed.”

Akin gave me a worried look as I passed him, but there was no time to do more than give him a reassuring look in return.  We needed to talk, yet ... how could we?  I entered the backroom and sat down on the stool, trying to collect my thoughts.  That could have turned very, very nasty.

I reached for the potions book and read the recipe one final time, wondering if I’d missed something.  Every attempt to actually brew the potion had ended in failure, no matter how I fiddled with the stirrers.  The only good news had been that no other cauldrons had exploded, proving that Bella’s accident hadn't been my fault.  Whoever had cursed her cauldron had been keeping his head down after the entire class had been given detention.  I didn't think I’d blame someone for tattling if the idiot did it again.

Maybe I’m going about this in the wrong way, I thought, as I collected the ingredients.  But what’s the right way?

I studied the small pile of ingredients, thoughtfully.  Potions mastery, Mum had said, was one-half knowledge and one-half instinct.  It wasn't enough to have an encyclopaedic memory for different ingredients, although that was very useful.  A Potions Master had to understand how they reacted when mixed together and, more importantly, develop a sense for what an unknown ingredient would do when added to the mix.  But, for me, that was nothing more than guesswork ...

And then I saw it.  There wasn't one slow surge of magic within the cauldron.  There were five separate surges of magic, five different flares that transmuted the mixture into a working potion.  It had seemed slow because the magical surges were close enough to appear as one, yet too far apart to allow an instant transformation.  I felt my jaw drop open as the pieces fell into place.  I hadn't tested it, but I knew I was right.

I’ll have to time the surges carefully, I thought, hugging myself with glee.  I’d solved a mystery that had bedevilled Magistra Loanda!  And then recalculate the magic from scratch ...

There was a knock at the door.  I looked up.  A fifth-year girl was looking at me, nervously.  I frowned, then remembered what happened when a magician stepped too close to one of my potions.  The girl was keeping herself as far back as she could without looking a coward - or worse.  I doubted she wanted to back into Magistra Loanda’s classroom.

“Caitlyn,” she said.  I thought she was one of Sandy’s friends.  “I’ve been ordered to escort you and your sisters to the visiting room.”

I blinked.  It was rare, very rare, for anyone to be pulled out of class.  It normally portended trouble.  But what had Alana, Bella and I done to deserve it?  I could believe that Alana had done something that warranted a visit to the Castellan’s office, but ... we were going to the visiting room.  Who’d come to see us?  I could only think of one person who had the influence to have us pulled out of class.

“Really?”

“Yes,” the upperclassman said.  She looked annoyed as her eyes flittered across the table, presumably realising that I hadn't started yet.  “Your parents have arrived.”

Chapter Sixteen

I couldn't help feeling a flicker of déjà vu as I followed Alana and Bella into the visiting room.  It was a comfortable chamber, although it lacked the charm of visiting rooms at the hall, but I would always associate it with the day I’d begged Dad to make sure that Rose wasn't expelled from Jude’s.  The small collection of cakes - and the steaming teapot - on the sideboard had tasted like ashes in my mouth, that day.  I hoped they would taste better this time.

Dad looked ... older, somehow.  He wore his robes, concealing what I was sure was a half-hidden breastplate and shortsword.  His face was calm and composed, but I could tell he was weary.  Beside him, Mum looked tense.  She was openly carrying her spellcaster on her belt, ready to draw at a moment’s notice.  Her dark eyes studied us for a long moment, then relaxed slightly.  She’d been checking for hidden charms.

“It’s good to see you all again,” Mum said.  She hugged each of us in turn, a dignified embrace that somehow managed to convey love and affection.  “I hope the three of you are concentrating on your studies?”

“It’s a little hard to concentrate now,” Alana said, as we sat down.  “Someone tried to kill Bella.”

Mum’s eyes hardened.  “And do you know who?”

“No,” Alana said.  “But I’d bet on Isabella or Akin.”

“Akin wouldn't have cursed Bella’s potion,” I said, wearily.  It was only the middle of the morning and I already felt tired.  “And even Isabella wouldn't have taken such a huge risk.”

“They might not have taken the risk of their own free will,” Dad rumbled.  “It wouldn't be hard for an older magician to place compulsion spells on them, something to make them curse the potion and then forget what they'd done.”

I shuddered.  Alana had given me plenty of practice at overcoming compulsion spells, but I knew how insidious they could be.  Akin had already been controlled once, by Fairuza.  What if he’d been controlled again?  Someone closely related to him could cast the spell, relying on their blood-tie to hide the compulsion.  And yet ...

“I thought the wards were supposed to protect us from compulsion spells,” Bella said.  “I tried to cast one ... ah ... it didn't work.”

Dad lifted an eyebrow, but didn't seem inclined - otherwise - to force Bella to divulge the rest of the story.  I frowned, inwardly.  I’d seen Isabella cast compulsion spells on people and she was a mere firstie.  I was sure the upperclassmen could cast compulsion spells of their own, if they wished.  The wards really were breaking down if students were casting such spells with abandon.

“There are ways to influence someone at a distance,” Dad reminded us, firmly.  He looked at me.  “And with the right tool, it’s easy.”

I nodded, stiffly.  The book of Objects of Power had included instructions on how to make a sympathy doll.  I’d read the details and felt sick, then promised myself I’d never make anything of the sort.  Given a wisp of hair or a drop of blood, a sympathy doll could be used to control, hurt, or kill the victim from the other side of the world.  The magic was so subtle that it was very difficult to block.  I’d been told, from birth, that I had to be careful with my blood and hair.  The slightest mistake could open me to attack from someone lurking in the shadows.

“I don’t know if the right tools exist,” I told him.  A sword could endure for a thousand years, but a sympathy doll wouldn't last very long at all.  It was made from some pretty fragile materials.  “I don’t think I could make one easily.”

“They wouldn't need a tool with the right blood resonance,” Dad said.  “And that wouldn't be hard for an uncle or aunt to find.”

Alana snorted.  “Dad ... what’s going on?”

“Yeah,” Bella echoed.  “The entire school is going to explode.”

“It’s worse than that,” I said.  I told them, briefly, about, Orion Palladian.  “Dad ... what do we do?”

Dad looked pained.  “Someone concealed an explosive Device of Power within the warehouse, timed to explode at the worst possible moment.  Nineteen people are dead, seven more are injured.  There have also been a handful of scattered attacks on our people, although they may just have been opportunistic.  And ... there have also been reports of attacks on the other Great Houses.”

“Lies, of course,” Alana said.

“Some of them definitely did happen,” Dad said, sternly.  “Others ... well, there’s no proof, one way or the other.  All the Great Houses are putting their armsmen on alert.  We may be looking at a full-scale House War.”

I swallowed, hard.  “Dad ... will our allies support us?”

“Some will,” Dad said.  “Others ... are a little unsure.  They may want to set the terms before any more Objects of Power are repaired--” his eyes fixed on me for a moment “--but they also don’t want to see House Rubén get any stronger.  There are too many scores that Carioca might want to settle, once he’s on top.”

Alana clapped her hands.  “So ... when are we going back to the hall?  To fight?”

“You’re not,” Dad said, sharply.  “You’re children.  Skilled children, I will admit, but children.  You are not to be involved in the fighting.  If worse comes to worst, you’ll be the next generation of a ruined house.”

“And then what?”  Alana demanded.  “We’ll ... have to leave the city.”

“Perhaps,” Dad told her.  “On the other hand, you do have something to bargain with, if we lose so badly there are no adults left.  You should be able to get yourselves integrated into their house.”

“I’d sooner die,” Alana declared.  “And what do we have to bargain with anyway?”

Me, I thought.  It was a terrifying thought.  I knew Akin wouldn't hurt me - not deliberately - but I couldn’t say the same for his father.  I was a prize in the war, not ... not a person in my own right.  You can use me as a bargaining chip.

“House Caldecott pulled its children out of Jude’s when the House War started to get hotter,” Dad said.  “That proved to be a mistake, as most of the children were either killed when Caldecott Hall fell or assimilated into House Rubén.  A handful are supposed to have fled, but ... we don’t know what happened to them afterwards.  The ones who were assimilated into House Rubén didn't get a chance to set the terms.  You’ll have that as long as you stay at Jude’s.”

I shuddered.  “Are we going to lose?”

Mum looked at me.  “All possibilities must be prepared for,” she said, in the same tone she’d used when she’d taught us basic safety.  “If we win, we can take you home; if we lose, you’ll have a chance to make better terms for yourself.”

“Assuming there are no adults left,” I muttered.  The prospect of Great Aunt Stregheria surviving the bloodbath and taking custody of me - and my sisters - was terrifying.  I could easily see her selling out to House Rubén if it let her lord it over us.  I’d do anything to avoid falling into her hands.  “Someone will survive, surely?”

“It depends,” Dad said.  “But if the House War goes really badly, we won’t survive.”

I gulped.  I didn't want to think about the risk of losing my parents.  I had aunts and uncles, but they weren't the same.  And many of them had openly warned about my lack of power, questioning what it meant for the family bloodline.  Now ... I didn't want to fall into their hands either.  Maybe they lacked Great Aunt Stregheria’s malice.  They still hadn't been very nice to me when they'd thought I was useless.

“You’ll survive,” Alana said.

I hoped she was right.  “Dad ... if we win ... what will happen to Akin and Isabella?”

“It depends on the scale of our victory,” Dad said, flatly.  “If we give them a bloody nose and they back off, Akin and Isabella will probably stay with their uncle and his family.  But if we crush House Rubén ... we may end up taking them into our household.”

Alana laughed.  “I don’t want Isabella as my sister!”

More like a maid, I thought.  They wouldn't be equals, would they?

“You wanted a third magical sister,” Bella pointed out.  “Didn't you?”

Alana said nothing.  I hid my amusement, somehow.  Alana and Isabella might have looked very different, but they were very much alike.  They might have made great sisters.  Or maybe simply expended all their malice on each other.  It would have been good or bad for the rest of us, depending on what actually happened.  I doubted it would have made my life any better.

“That doesn't matter, for the moment,” Dad said.  He looked from Alana to Bella to me.  “I expect the three of you to stay in the school and keep your heads down.  Do not even go into the gardens unless you’re escorted by a teacher.  It is important that you survive.”

Alana frowned.  “Even when our clients are under attack?”

“The school will do everything in its power to keep a lid on things,” Dad said.  “And that means I don’t need you three stirring the pot.”

“The school can’t keep matters under control,” I said.  “The upperclassmen are part of the problem.”

“You’d think they’d be old enough to look to the future,” Dad said.  His mouth twisted, as if he’d bitten into something sour.  “Starting a war inside the school will not endear them to their future patrons.”

“Unless they’re on the winning side,” Alana said.  “Dad, if we were to start ...”

“You are to do nothing,” Dad snapped.  The flash of anger sent me shrinking back into my chair.  “Alana, I don’t want you - I don’t want any of you - risking your lives.”

“Our lives are already at risk,” I muttered.

Dad rounded on me.  “You too,” he said.  “If you - if any of you - persist in causing trouble, I will make sure you are unable to cause any more.”

Alana looked mutinous.  I didn’t think she was actually listening.  It wasn't in her nature to turn the other cheek, not when she could fight back.  And ... I shivered, helplessly.  Part of me agreed with her.  She’d taught me that fighting was sometimes the only way to get a little peace.

Mum stood, walked over to the sideboard and poured five cups of tea.  “You’ll join us one final time, won’t you?”

Bella gulped.  “It won’t be the final time, will it?”

“I very much hope not,” Mum said.

My heart sank.  This ... this might be the last time I saw my parents.  If House Rubén won the war, my parents would be killed.  There was no way the patriarch and his wife would be left alive.  And we’d be alone.  I’d enjoyed sipping tea with my parents before, when they’d taught us how to take tea in polite society, but now ... I wanted to push the cup away.  It would feel too much like saying goodbye.

Mum eyed me, sympathetically.  “It will be fine,” she said, gently.  “You’re survivors, the three of you.”

“Only through luck,” I muttered.  If someone merely wanted to keep me prisoner, instead of putting me to work, it would be easy.  They could just chain me to the wall or lock me in a dungeon or ... anything, as long as I’d need magic to escape.  The simplest untying cantrip was well beyond me.  “Mum ...”

Mum rested her hand on my shoulder.  “It will be fine,” she repeated.  “You never know.  It might all blow over.”

“Hah,” Alana muttered.

Dad gave her a sharp look.  “Tensions are rising all over,” he said.  “It may be time for another House War.”

I sipped my tea, sitting back in my chair as Dad passed around the cakes and Mum made a valiant effort to talk of other things.  Taking tea was a long-established tradition, but now ... the sweet pastries tasted like ashes in my mouth, again.  I told Mum about my potions discovery and she listened carefully, offering a handful of comments.  She’d have told me at once, I was sure, if she knew I was barking up the wrong tree.  Unless it was something I could have learned from a book ...

“I wish we could stay longer,” Dad said, as the dinner bell rang.  I hadn't even been aware of time passing.  “But ... we have to go.”

He stood.  “Alana, learn to feel as well as think,” he said.  “Bella, learn to think as well as feel.  And Cat ... remember that the three of you are sisters and your parents love you very much.”

I felt a lump in my throat.  “Dad ...”

“Alana, Bella, we will see you again,” Dad continued.  “Cat, I want a private word with you.”

I expected Alana to say something, but she was quiet as Mum escorted Bella and her out of the room.  I could tell Alana was bothered, even though she was trying hard not to show it.  We’d been children.  We were still children.  But we had to grow up.

“I’m disturbed by the report about you being threatened by older students,” Dad said, sinking back into his chair.  “I hope you are protected?”

“I have some protections,” I said, carefully.  “But ...”

I met his eyes.  “Should I be forging Objects of Power for Robin and his friends?”

Dad frowned.  “Ideally, no,” he said.  “But they’re not likely to forget your talents, are they?”

It took me a moment to realise he meant House Rubén.  “Will they demand I be handed over to them?”

“If they win, perhaps,” Dad said.  “But ... I told you.  Your mere existence changes the balance of power.”

“Until they find another Zero,” I reminded him.

“There doesn't seem to be one in the city,” Dad told me.  “If there’s one to be found in Tintagel, he or she will be in the countryside.”

He looked up at me.  “I’d take you with me now, Cat, except Jude’s is likely to be safer than the Hall,” he admitted.  “I wish ...”

“It isn't your fault,” I told him.

Dad shook his head.  “Here,” he said, reaching into his briefcase.  “This belonged to Anna the Artificer.  I was going to give it to you for your sixteenth birthday ... I wasn’t sure if you’d get a Season or not, but you’d definitely get something.  It may come in handy now.”

He pulled his hand out, revealing an old manuscript.  “Alana and Bella have some of their inheritance put aside for them already, just in case,” he added.  “You too.  If we lose - and lose badly - you won’t be destitute.  But this ... this is something I thought I should give to you in person.”

I took the manuscript, very carefully.  It was written in New Script, rather than Old Script, but it felt old.  Someone had drawn a handful of preservation runes around the cover, but it still felt dusty against my bare fingertips.  The charm for infinite pages seemed oddly frayed, even though it was still working.  Inside, there were dozens of diagrams of Objects and Devices of Power, annotated in a neat feminine hand.  Some of them were familiar, others ... others were new.  I’d never seen anything like them.

It dawned on me, in a moment of insight, just what the manuscript had to be.  “This is Anna the Artificer’s notebook, isn't it?  Her private notebook.”

“Yes,” Dad said.  “It was put into storage after her death, along with the workbench I gave to you.  Now ... you might be the first person who can actually turn some of her dreams into reality.”

I met his eyes.  “I will see you again, won’t I?”

“I hope so,” Dad said.  He looked back at me, evenly.  “But I can't make any promises.”

I lowered my eyes, suddenly unable to look at him.  I wanted him to lie to me, to promise that it would all be fine, but I knew he wouldn’t.  There were things Dad had never told me, and things he’d never known, yet ... he’d never lied to me.  Even now, when a comforting lie might be better than the truth, he wouldn't lie to me.

Tears started to prickle at the corner of my eyes.  Dad reached for a handkerchief and held it out to me.  I took it and wiped my eyes, hating myself for being so weak.  I’d taken Alana’s torments - and the humiliations of being powerless - in my stride, if only because I’d known that crying only made it worse, but now ... it was suddenly very hard to breathe.

Dad leaned forward and hugged me, gently.  I hugged him back.  I didn't want to let go.  But I knew I had no choice.

“There’s one other thing I need to tell you.”  Dad’s tone was regretful, but firm.  “And it’s important.”

I looked up, warily.  “What?”

“You have been spending a great deal of time with Akin of House Rubén,” Dad said.  I knew what he was going to say before he said it.  “I want you to stay away from him.”

“Dad ...”

“I know you think he’s a friend,” Dad said.  “And you’ve been through a lot together.  But right now, his family is the enemy.  I will have to respond to their provocations soon, which will make them either raise the stakes or back down.  And Carioca Rubén is not known for backing down.”

I stared.  Akin was a friend.  One of the only two friends I had.  Dad couldn't mean it, could he?  Akin wasn't Isabella.  He wasn’t!

“Dad ...”

“I mean it,” Dad cautioned.  “Don’t defy me on this, Cat.  Stay away from Akin.”

Chapter Seventeen

“And so ... ah ... you will read chapters fourteen and fifteen for your homework,” Magister Von Rupert informed us.  His beady eyes flicked around the classroom.  “You will be tested on the material next week in class.”

I groaned, inwardly, as my stomach grumbled in protest.  I’d been too upset to go to lunch, after my parents had left, and this was the result.  I should have eaten, but ... there was no food.  I had some cakes and sweets stashed away in the dorm, yet how could I go there before the next class?  I simply didn't have time.

And I don’t want to be late for forging, I thought.  My stomach rumbled again.  Maybe if I ran to the dining hall before going to the workroom ... I might just make it.  Unless I got spotted by a bad-tempered upperclassman.  I’ll be writing lines all evening ...

“Magister Grayson will take you down to the gardens to test your spells,” Magister Von Rupert added.  He looked at me.  “Caitlyn, you will remain behind.”

I nodded slowly as the rest of the class stood and headed for the door.  I was used to it by now, but it still felt strange to watch them go.  There was no point in me taking the practical side of the class, yet ... I felt excluded.  Some of them probably thought I was lucky, getting out of the class.  Magister Grayson was one of the strictest teachers in Jude’s.  But it came with a high price.

“Come into my office,” Magister Von Rupert ordered, once the door was closed.  “And bring your notebook with you.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, standing.  I’d liked Magister Von Rupert’s office, the last time I’d seen it.  “I ...”

My stomach made another sound of protest.  I gritted my teeth, determined not to show weakness.  And yet, how could I concentrate?  Magister Von Rupert made up for my lack of practicals by giving me theoretical questions a year or two ahead of the rest of the class.  I was going to fail and fail badly.  I stood and walked after him, entering the office with great care.  There were stacks of manuscripts, scrolls and loose sheets of paper everywhere.  The room was meant to be bigger than my bedroom back home, but there was so little space to manoeuvre that it looked a lot smaller.

“Ah ... take a seat,” Magister Von Rupert ordered, as he picked his way through a small mountain of manuscripts.  “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

I looked around.  There were only two visible chairs, one of which was clearly a teacher’s chair.  The other was playing host to a vast pile of books.  I wondered if I was meant to sit on the floor as I studied the pile.  Magister Von Rupert wouldn't be happy if I moved the books, certainly not without permission.  The office might be messy enough to give Mum a heart attack, but I was fairly sure Magister Von Rupert knew where everything was.  I certainly hoped he knew where everything was.

“I ... ah ... showed you this before,” Magister Von Rupert said, returning.  He held out a dusty scroll.  “Ah ... unfortunately, you and I did not have time to study it.”

I took the scroll and carefully unfolded it as he cleared a space on the desk.  It felt crackly against my fingers, as if the slightest mistake would be enough to damage it beyond hope of repair.  There would be preservation spells, of course, but they wouldn't last indefinitely.  I was fairly certain that someone should have made a copy - or a few hundred copies - a very long time ago.

The diagram was exactly as I remembered, the school’s wards focused around an Object of Power.  It was an impressive piece of work, all the more so as the school had expanded in all directions long after the Object of Power had been forged.  The wards might be having problems now, but compared to some of the problems other schools had had ...

I frowned as a thought occurred to me.  “Did the people who built Jude’s also build Magus Court?”

“Ah ... they might have been,” Magister Von Rupert told me.  His fingers traced a line on the parchment, pointing out the handful of illegible signatures.   “The two buildings were ... ah ... certainly built at roughly the same time.  I think they wanted Jude’s to be some distance from the centre of Shallot.”

We bent our heads over the parchment and studied it, carefully.  It had been impressive before, but - knowing what I did now - it was all the more impressive.  Whoever had forged the Object of Power had been a very skilled craftsman.  I’d assumed that the Object of Power produced and channelled magic, but it actually drew on the magic field to power the school’s wards.  No wonder it had proven so tolerant when the school started to expand ...

And no wonder we’re finally running into problems now, I added, silently.  The spellform was perfect.  The simple fact that the Object of Power was still working was proof enough of that.  But it was also having problems supplying power to a far larger school.  Every demand weakens the local magic field that much further.

“We’re currently having problems routing power through the wards,” Magister Von Rupert said, stiffly.  “We may have to replace the Object of Power entirely.”

I blinked in surprise.  “You want me to forge a new one?”

“Eventually, yes,” Magister Von Rupert said.  “Until then ... I want you to check the spells and determine if there's anything we can do as a short-term measure.”

He reached for a hall pass.  “Go fetch your cloak, then meet me by the statue of Magister Farnham,” he added, as he gave me the pass.  “We’ll be going under the school.”

“Yes, sir,” I said, not bothering to conceal my excitement.  It was better than magic theory any day.  “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

“Ah ... ten will be sufficient,” Magister Von Rupert said.  “But make sure you bring your cloak!”

I nodded and hurried out of the room, keeping the hall pass in one hand.  There would be prowling upperclassmen who’d wonder, quite rightly, why a lowerclassman was out of class between bells.  If I didn't have the pass ... I scowled at the thought of being dragged back to the classroom by my ear.  I’d seen it happen, once.  And the teacher had not been amused.

The dorm was empty when I entered.  I pulled on my spectacles and peered through them, noting the array of protective spells surrounding the beds.  Everyone, even Rose, had been warding their beds as thoroughly as possible.  I didn't blame them, either.  The school was on a knife-edge.  It felt as though the slightest misstep would trigger a bloodbath.

I sat down on the bed and rummaged through my trunk for the cakes.  Henry had baked them specially for me, after my true talents had been revealed.  I had wondered, at the time, if it was a form of apology.  Henry and the other lesser family had never really liked my powerless self.  They’d seen me as a family embarrassment.  Or worse, perhaps.  They were family, yet they were also servants ...

The cakes were sweet, sweet enough to make my teeth ache.  I ate them anyway, then scooped up my cloak and headed for the door.  It wasn't much, and I’d have to try to cadge a snack before forging class, but it would have to do.  I promised myself that I’d pick up a few sandwiches or something for later use - the spells on the trunk would keep them fresh - as I hurried down the stairs and along the corridors.  Magister Von Rupert was standing next to the statue, looking faintly ridiculous in a cloak that had gone out of fashion when my father was a little boy.  I resisted the urge to smile.  I didn't think genius cared for such little details.

“Very good,” Magister Von Rupert said, when I arrived.  “Let us ... ah ... be off.”

He pressed his hand against the wall beside the statue, which slowly opened to reveal a dusty passageway.  I opened my eyes wide in surprise.  I’d known the school was riddled with secret passages, some more secret than others, but I’d never realised there was one here.  I hastily redesigned the map of the school in my head.  If there was a passage here, then ...

Magister Von Rupert led me down a long corridor, coughing slightly as our footsteps kicked up dust.  I looked from side to side as I followed, studying the runes someone had carved into the stone wall.  There was no apparent source of light, as far as I could tell, yet I could see without spells.  The light seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.  I gritted my teeth as the passage sloped downhill sharply, heading into the bowels of the earth.  The floor felt slippery under my feet.

I cleared my dry throat.  “What is this place?”

“It used to be one of the maintenance tunnels, once upon a time.”  Magister Von Rupert sounded hoarse.  “It was turned into a power conduit, then sealed off.  That was back when I was a young man.”

Ouch, I thought.  It was impossible to imagine Magister Von Rupert as a young man.  He was older than Great Aunt Stregheria.  Did no one ever come down here since then?

“The tunnels are regularly inspected,” Magister Von Rupert said, when I asked.  “But it’s difficult to actually perform any repair work without damaging the entire network.”

I nodded, slowly, as the tunnel opened up into a vast chamber, deep below the school.  A single Object of Power hung in the centre of the room, suspended on invisible strings and glowing with a dull red light.  It looked like a hovering crystal, pulsing with power, but ... I peered closer, noting how the glow obscured the details.  The more I looked, the more I saw spinning wheels and strips of metal, moving around the core like planets around a sun.  It reminded me of the Object of Power I’d built to produce a flying machine, but ... far more complex.  It seemed to be bigger on the inside than on the outside.

A hand caught my shoulder.  I jumped.

“Don’t go too close,” Magister Von Rupert warned.  “You really have to be careful where you put your feet.”

I peered at the floor.  The Object of Power nestled at the centre of an endlessly-repeating network of carved circles ... a power distribution network, I realised dully.  An Object of Power distribution network.  I’d never seen anything like it.  The wards protecting my family’s home were different, very different.  They were Devices of Power, not Objects of Power.  I allowed my gaze to wander around the chamber, slowly noting how the workmanship had changed over the years.  The later forgers hadn't known how to make best use of the Object of Power.  They’d simply tried to tap the raw power in the chamber.

We shuffled around the outer edge of the carved circles, careful not to touch them.  I had no idea what would happen if so much raw power was discharged into us, but I doubted it would be pleasant.  I’d heard horror stories from the Desolation - men and women warped into monsters by raw magic - that had chilled me to the bone.  But then, I’d also read horror stories about the Eternal City.

And yet none of us were harmed when we went there, I thought.  But we didn't go anywhere near the heart of the city.

“We need to make modifications here and here,” Magister Von Rupert said.  He sounded firmer, now.  “We’ve calculated that it should be possible.”

He held out a small notebook.  I glanced at it automatically, trying to follow the work.  It was years ahead of anything I’d done, even when I’d been working with Dad.  I thought it made sense - a workable spell diagram was always understandable - but there were aspects I wasn't sure I followed.  And ...

I swallowed, hard, as I realised the problem.  Magister Von Rupert didn't know - he couldn't know - how the Object of Power really worked.  He’d assumed that the problem lay in the power conduits.  A logical assumption, I thought, but incorrect.  The real problem was that the Object of Power tapped the magic field ... and the magic field was growing weaker.  A chill ran down my spine as I considered the implications.  How long would it be before the students above us could no longer do magic?

There was no way to know.  There was no way to know - even - just how the magic field would react to being drained.  Would an area be cleansed of magic permanently?  Or would the field slowly even out, like water in a bathtub?  I thought it was the latter, but ... what if I was wrong?

The students casting spells all the time can't be helping either, I told myself.  But the strongest spells they can cast are nothing, compared to the power feeding into the Object of Power and being redistributed into the wards.

A thought struck me.  “Doesn’t this ... Object of Power have a name?”

“No,” Magister Von Rupert said.  “I believe - reading ... ah ... between the lines - that a former Castellan believed it would be better to hide its existence, rather than brag of it.  The vast majority of references concerning Jude’s foundation were wiped from the official records.  Only a handful of people know it exists.”

Me too, now, I thought.  Does Dad know it exists?

Magister Von Rupert stopped and stared towards the Object of Power.  “Do you want to go closer?”

I nodded, wordlessly.

“Don’t put your feet on the lines,” Magister Von Rupert warned.  “And don’t cross the final circle.”

“Understood, sir,” I said, tersely.

I sucked in my breath, suddenly nervous.  Mum and Dad had drilled basic safety into our heads from childhood.  Stepping on an activated rune was a good way to get zapped into a frog, seriously hurt ... or killed.  I made a mental note to check that Rose understood the dangers as I inched forward, carefully to refrain from touching any of the lines.  It was quite possible that no one had bothered to tell her.  The dangers were so well-understood in Shallot that it might not have occurred to anyone that Rose needed a safety lecture.

But we’re not going to practice warding on such a complex scale until we become upperclassmen.  The thought sobered me.  There was a very good chance I’d never become an upperclassman.  By then, surely she’ll pick up enough to understand the dangers.

I stopped in front of the final circle and peered into the glow.  It seemed almost like mist, parting just enough to reveal some of the Object of Power’s innards before hiding them again in a dull red glow.  I had to remind myself, sharply, not to lean forward too much as I tried to parse out the innermost secrets.  It definitely looked as though space was warped, inside the Object of Power.  The interior looked larger than it should be, as if it would take longer to walk through the interior than around the edge of the circle.  And forging something so elegantly complex would be a nightmare.  I wondered, as I made a series of mental notes, if the Object of Power had actually been shrunk at one point.  Or maybe it was just resting inside a pocket dimension.

“Impressive,” I said, slowly.  “But forging another will be a very difficult task.”

“We do ... ah ... understand,” Magister Von Rupert told me.  “But we do need to look at the bigger picture.”

You can't see the bigger picture, I thought, as we started to parse out the various power conduits surrounding the Object of Power.  You’re lacking vital information.

I was impressed, genuinely impressed, with some of the work later school administers had put into expanding their wards.  Given the dangers of accidentally destroying the Object of Power, they’d taken a risk ... and it had paid off for them.  But they hadn't really understood what they were doing.  I thought it would have been better to put a second Object of Power somewhere on the edge of the school grounds, where power could be collected and channelled without interference ...

Which might only speed up the decline if the magic really is going away, I thought.  And who knows what will happen then?

I groaned, wishing that I could talk to someone - anyone - about what I’d learned.  But there was no one.  Certainly, no one who couldn't be made to talk.  I trusted Rose and Akin, but I’d seen them both enchanted ...

“Ah,” Magister Von Rupert said.  He glanced at his watch.  “I appear to have kept you too long.”

I swallowed a word that would have earned Mum’s profound disapproval.  He’d kept me for nearly two hours.  I was an hour late for forging.  Magister Tallyman was not going to be pleased.  Five minutes late might have earned me a lecture and lines - or detention - but an hour?  I was in trouble.

“I’ll take you back now,” Magister Von Rupert said.  “Ah ... don’t try to come down here without me.  The wards will react badly.”

“Yes, sir.”  I was too busy worrying about Magister Tallyman to really listen.  He might accept that my lateness was Magister Von Rupert’s fault ... or he might not.  “Are we going to come down here again?”

“Yes,” Magister Von Rupert said.  “We have a lot of work to do.”

And it’s pointless, I thought, numbly.  But I can't tell you that, can I?

Chapter Eighteen

“There,” I said, putting down the punishment book.  “I’m done.”

“Very good,” Sandy said.  She was sitting on her bed, reading a broadsheet.  “Now, why don’t you go away for a bit?”

I made a face.  I’d been caught running in the corridor earlier in the day and given lines by a particularly cranky upperclassman, who’d doubled them when I’d dared to protest.  I knew I was one of the lucky ones - there had been more hexing in the corridors over the past week than in the past year - but my wrist still ached.  Every day brought more stories of hexes and curses exchanged on the streets of Shallot, of businesses being firebombed and family homes being attacked from a distance.  It made me long for the days my friends and I had been trapped in a concealed village, too close to the Eternal City for comfort.  At least our families hadn't been on the verge of all-out war.

“I don’t want to go away,” I said.  Sandy couldn't order me out of the dorm, could she?  I didn't think so, but she could certainly make my life miserable if I stayed.  “I ...”

“Go,” Sandy ordered.

I shrugged and stood, checking my protections to make sure they were in place.  A number of people had tried to hex me in the back over the past week.  None had actually succeeded, but it still worried me that I didn’t know who they were.  Alana, at least, had never hidden the fact she’d hexed me.  My family’s enemies?  Or just someone intent on testing my protections?  I didn't know.

Shaking my head, I walked to the door.  Rose was in the library with Bella, a thought that bothered me more than I cared to admit.  It was good for Rose to have other friends, part of me considered, but at the same time I was more than a little jealous.  Rose was my friend!  It wasn't right that she should be with someone else.  I knew I was being stupid, but ... it was hard not to take it personally.  I wanted to be with her too.

But I didn’t want to go to the library ... I sighed, then headed down to the workroom.  It was a weekend, thankfully.  The corridors were almost deserted, save for small groups of students who eyed me warily.  I eyed them right back, giving them plenty of space. I wasn’t worried about being hexed these days, as long as I had my protections, but being physically attacked was a different story.

There was no sign of Magister Tallyman when I entered the workroom, but a handful of upperclassmen were sitting at workbenches, heads bent over complex Devices of Power.  I hesitated, then hurried to one of the smaller workrooms.  They were all occupied by upperclassmen, save one.  Akin was sitting at the workbench, working on a device of his own design.  I hesitated, torn between the desire to just walk in and the urge to back out before he saw me.  Akin and I had barely exchanged any words since Dad had told me to stay away from him.  Isabella had hovered around Akin so closely that I hadn't dared try to speak to him.

He looked up.  His eyes met mine.  I saw ... I saw relief, mingled with fear ... the fear, perhaps, of being rejected.  He hadn't had many friends either, not real friends.  It wouldn't have been hard for him to build a network of suck-ups and cronies, like Alana and Isabella, but how much were such friendships actually worth?  I took a breath, knowing I was on the verge of defying my father’s instructions, and stepped into the workroom.

“Cat.”  Akin sounded relieved.  “It’s good to see you again.”

“You too,” I said.  There was a nasty mark on his hand.  “What happened to you?”

“Accidentally managed to zap myself,” Akin said, ruefully.  “Are you alright?  I heard you got in trouble.”

“Nothing too bad,” I said.  I flexed my wrist meaningfully.  “Just lines.”

Akin nodded in sympathy.  “I have to finish this for extra credit,” he said, pointing to the Device of Power on the workbench.  “What do you think of it?”

I walked forward and peered down at his design.  It was a little over-complicated, by Dad’s standards, but I could see some advantages to the layout.  Devices of Power wore out fast, no matter how carefully they were forged.  Akin had tried to compensate for it by working extra redundancy into his design, redundancy that should expand its lifespan by a considerable amount.  It wouldn't, I thought, but ... Akin didn't know enough to understand the real problem.  And even if he had, there was nothing he could do about it.

“It’s clever,” I said, honestly.  I tried to think of something to say that wouldn't give away too much.  “Why don’t you add some extra nexus wiring here?”

“The resonance would rip the device apart,” Akin told me.  “I want something I can carry in my hand.”

“I see,” I said.  “But that limits the scope for repair work.”

“It does,” Akin agreed.  “But I’ve made the design modular to make it easier to repair.”

I nodded, keeping my expression under tight control.  The real problem wasn't in the design, but the magic field.  Akin’s device was drawing on both his power and the magic field and the interaction between the two would eventually cause it to collapse into dust.  I’d seen it happen time and time again, even with Magister Tallyman’s best work.  Devices of Power needed to be constantly maintained or they started to decay very quickly.

“It’s a good design,” I said.  Akin probably would get good marks for the design, even if the Device of Power refused to work for very long.  “Do you mind if I use the other workbench?”

“Be my guest,” Akin said.  “It’s better than sharing the room with an upperclassman.”

I grinned as I started to collect supplies.  It was a minor miracle that Akin hadn't been ordered out of the workroom, although - as one of Magister Tallyman’s assistants - he had every right to use the workrooms outside class hours.  The upperclassmen wouldn't have cared about his rights if they’d needed the room.  I picked up the supplies for a spellcaster and carried them back to the workbench, careful to stay a goodly distance away from Akin.  His mere presence would make it harder - if not impossible - to forge.

And he understands that, I thought, as I sat down and sorted the supplies.  Alana and Bella don’t realise that their magic interferes with forging.

“There’s a pointless design here,” I said wryly, as I read through Anna the Artificer’s notebook.  “It’s a collar for turning someone into an ox.”

Akin looked up.  “That is a common punishment.”

“Not like this,” I said.  “The design is such that you have to put it on - it isn't one that someone else can use.  And it works.  It turns you into an ox.  But you also have to take it off yourself, which you can't do because you’re an ox!”

“Perhaps someone can be forced to put the collar on,” Akin said, reasonably.  “Or maybe someone just got a little ahead of themselves and invented a Device of Power without bothering to think about its lack of utility.”

I nodded.  It was as good a theory as anything I’d come up with.  “Thankfully, there are a few more practical ideas,” I said, as I started to work.  “I want a pair of flying boots.”

It felt good to be spending time with him again, even if - by unspoken agreement - we didn't speak of politics or the looming House War.  I’d forgotten just how imaginative Akin could be, when he was in the right mood.  He might not be a Zero - he might not be able to produce Objects of Power - but he could and did offer suggestions for their design.  We chatted lightly, feeling as if the House War had never come between us.  I wanted it to last forever ...

... And then the door burst open.  I looked up, feeling my heart sink in dismay.  Alana was standing there, her hands on her hips.  She looked ... angry.

“You,” she said, to Akin.  “Get out.”

Akin stared back at her, evenly.  “I have every right to be here,” he said.  He kept his hands under the workbench, but I saw him move them into a defensive posture.  “Do you have permission to come here on weekends?”

Alana glared at him, clearly fighting to keep her temper under control.  I half-expected her to hex him on the spot, even though it would get her in real trouble if she damaged the workroom or was caught by Magister Tallyman.  Her dark fingers flexed angrily before she took a long breath and controlled herself, pressing her hands together.  I would have been impressed if I hadn't known her anger would find a way to manifest itself later.

“Cat,” she snapped.  “Come with me.”

I hesitated, unsure what to do.  I wasn't going to let her boss me around.  And yet, I knew her well enough to be certain she’d find some way to make her displeasure known.  A hex thrown in my direction might not hurt me, but it would disrupt the spellform I was building and probably ruin my work.  I groaned, inwardly.  Going with her was probably the best solution.

“Let me put this away first,” I said, crossly.  “You can wait outside.”

Alana didn't move.  I felt her eyes boring into me as I carefully picked up my work, carried it over to a trunk and placed it inside.  Alana might just have ruined it anyway, no matter what I did.  The spellform hadn't gone active yet, which meant that a rogue surge of magic might just be enough to damage the unfinished Object of Power.  I’d have to go over it very carefully when I got back, just to be sure.  A hint of contamination would be enough to destroy my work.

I said goodbye to Akin, then followed Alana out of the room.  As soon as we were outside, she grabbed my arm hard enough to hurt and practically yanked me down the corridor.  I pulled my hand free and glared at her when she tried to grab me again, then motioned for her to lead on.  She let out an angry grunt and then stalked away.  I followed her into a private room, flinching slightly as she cast a handful of privacy wards.  She’d hexed me often enough that the slightest movement of her fingers was enough to make me nervous.

She rounded on me as soon as she was sure of our privacy.  “What are you doing?”

“Forging,” I said.  “I ...”

“Don’t be an idiot!”  Alana’s face couldn't go any darker, but her eyes flashed with pure anger.  “You were with him!”

I felt a flash of anger of my own.  “Do I tell you who you can befriend?  Do you even have friends?”

Alana held up her fingers, ready to snap off a spell.  I reminded myself, sharply, that my protections could handle anything she could throw at me.  And yet ... she might just figure out the same trick Sandy had used.  Or ...I winced, inwardly, as I saw her eyes flicker to my earring.  I’d taken precautions, after she’d torn the last one free, but ... I’d never really tested them.

“Dad told you not to go anywhere near him,” Alana snapped.  “Didn’t he?”

My mind raced.  Alana hadn’t been in the room, had she?  No, she hadn’t.  And that meant ... what?  Had she used a spell to spy on us?  Dad would have caught her, I thought, but ... it was far more likely that she’d simply guessed what Dad would say.   Alana wasn’t stupid.  She’d have no trouble guessing that Dad must have told me to stay away from Akin.

I saw a flicker of triumph cross her face and knew that my face must have betrayed me.  “Dad told you to have nothing to do with him,” she said.  Her voice was low and urgent.  “Why are you betraying the family?”

I recoiled.  That stung.  There weren't many worse accusations in Shallot.

“He’s my friend.”  I glared at her.  “I wouldn't expect you to understand that.”

“He’s the Rubén Heir Primus,” Alana said.  She made a very visible effort to control her anger.  “He will be running House Rubén as soon as his father pops his clogs and you ... and you ... you’re spending time with him.  People will talk!”

“So what?”  I snapped back.  “People have been talking about me for years!”

“It was different back then,” Alana countered.  “We weren't on the verge of a House War!”

“And everyone thought I was useless,” I thundered.  I swallowed hard.  I was not going to start crying in front of Alana.  “Who cares what people say?”

“Dad will,” Alana said.  Her voice was icy cold.  “He’ll be furious.”

I glared at her.  “Are you going to tattle?”

“Someone will,” Alana said.  “Someone who wants to curry favour with Dad.  Or someone who wants to cause trouble for him.  Someone will tattle and then ... where will you be?”

“With a friend,” I said, stubbornly.

Alana reached forward and jabbed me in the chest.  “You are a daughter of House Aguirre,” she said.  “You have a duty to the house.  You should not be spending time with someone who is our enemy, simply by existing.  Your duty is to provide weapons and tools for us ...”

I blinked.  “Us?”

“The family, you stupid ...”  Alana bit off a word that would have gotten her in real trouble if she’d used it in front of Mum.  Mum would have washed her mouth out with soap.  “We are at war!”

“Not yet,” I said.  “We ...”

“Yes, we are,” Alana interrupted.  “Have you not seen the news?  We are under attack!”

I swallowed.  “Do you believe what you read in the broadsheets?”

“I believe what I hear from back home,” Alana said.  “Robin says ...”

Something fell into place.  “You’re working with Robin?”

“Someone has to defend the family,” Alana snapped.  “And you’re not going to do it!”

I stared at her.  “Alana ... you’re twelve!”

“I am the Aguirre Heir Primus,” Alana said.  “And I am also your older sister.”

“By what?”  I had to snicker.  “Fifteen minutes?”

“I’m still older,” Alana said.  “And I am the Heir Primus.”

“Only by default,” I reminded her.  “The family council might want to have a say.”

“They can hardly question Dad’s bloodline now,” Alana said.  “You’re important!”

I clenched my fists.  “How nice of you to finally realise it.”

Alana shook her head.  “You will not talk to Akin any more, ever,” she said.  “You will go to the workroom and forge us Objects of Power we can use to ...”

I met her eyes.  “Make me.”

Alana’s hand flashed out.  I could have jumped back, but I let her grab the earring and pull.  It broke in her hand, the tiny gemstone falling to the ground.  She blinked in surprise - this time, she hadn’t managed to yank it right out of my ear - and then cast a hex.  A compulsion spell, I thought.  The bracelet under my sleeve grew warm as it absorbed the magic.

“You stole my last earring.”  My voice sounded smug, even to me.  “Did you not think that I would learn from that experience?  But then, you don’t think.  No one will vote for you, after Dad dies, because you don’t think ...”

Alana stared at me, then lifted her hand and slapped my face.  Hard.  For a moment, I was too shocked to feel pain.  Alana had hexed me in all sorts of ways, heaping humiliation after humiliation onto me as we’d grown older, but she’d never hit me.  And then I threw myself at her, slamming my body into hers and shoving her to the ground.  She was stronger than she looked - she hadn't spent much the last four years forging - and we rolled around the floor, hitting and kicking at each other.  I could hear her shouting, but I couldn't make out the words.  I was too busy trying to bash her head into the floor.  Her nails dug into my back, scratching hard enough to draw blood ...

A hand grabbed my ankle and yanked, hard.  I let go of Alana, half-convinced that one of her cronies had come to her rescue.  And then, as I rolled over, I saw Bella ... with Rose, standing behind her.  I felt a flash of shame.  I’d been so consumed with anger that I’d forgotten myself.  I hadn't wanted Rose to see me so ... so uncontrolled.

“You’re both being idiots,” Bella said.  I’d never heard her so ... panicky before.  “Stop it!”

Alana and I exchanged shocked glances.  “Who are you?”  Alana sounded stunned.  “And what have you done with Bella?”

I rubbed my jaw.  It was throbbing, dully.  My entire body ached.  I hoped Alana felt worse, even though I knew we were in trouble.  If Mum and Dad ever heard about us fighting like boys, they’d be furious.  And yet ...

“Someone has to be the mature one,” Bella managed, finally.  “And it’s clearly not going to be either of you.”

“Oh,” I managed.  “And where is Bella?”

Bella gave me a stern look.  It was suddenly easy to see my mother in her pudgy face.  It struck me, suddenly, that Bella was actually growing up.  The thought cost me a pang.  Bella had power, if she chose to use it.  My talents were far more limited.

“Rose has a letter she needs to show you,” Bella told me.  “Why don’t the two of you find another room and go for a natter.  Alana and I will have a proper chat.”

I glanced at Rose’s desperate face and knew I had no choice.  “Fine,” I said, stumbling to my feet.  Pain stabbed down my back.  Alana had definitely scratched me badly.  “I’ll see you later.”

Chapter Nineteen

“Cat,” Rose asked.  “Are you alright?  What happened?”

I said nothing as we stepped into another private workroom.  My jaw still hurt.  I fiddled with my blazer for a long moment, half-convinced that the back of my shirt was stained with blood.  Alana probably sharpened her nails deliberately.  One of my uncles had told me horror stories of men being killed by poisoned fingernails.  Mum had shut him up before he could get to the gory details.

“We had a fight,” I said, unnecessarily.  She didn't need me to tell her that!  “Do you have a mirror?”

Rose passed me a small pocket compact without comment.  I flipped it open and inspected my jaw.  The skin hadn't torn, but I was going to be bruised for a few days unless I rubbed salve into the wound.  I’d have to be careful.  Too much magic in my body would make it harder for me to forge.

“She got you a good one,” Rose said.  She sat down on a comfortable chair.  “What were you fighting about?”

“Akin,” I said.  It hurt to admit it.  “Dad said I wasn't to spend time with him.  Alana ... picked up on that.”

“And gave you a lecture over it,” Rose finished.  She met my eyes.  “Is she right?”

I shrugged as I sat down.  Dad had a point, I had to admit.  Akin might not be my enemy, but his family were my enemies.  He’d certainly be expected to continue the feud if he actually became Patriarch.  But ... he was also my friend.  I didn't want to abandon him.  And I didn’t think he wanted to abandon me either.  He didn't have many real friends.

“I don’t know,” I said.  “Life would be much simpler if I didn't have a family.”

“It would also be harder in quite a few ways,” Rose said.  She held out a scroll.  “Take a look at this.”

I frowned.  I’d seen plenty of ancient scrolls, but modern ones ...?  They were only used for matters that required the utmost formality.  I felt my heart start to sink as I took the scroll and unfurled it, carefully.  My bracelet grew warm as preservation and authentication spells snapped and snarled around my fingertips.  Whoever had sent the scroll wanted to make it absolutely clear that it was their scroll.  There could be no room for doubt.

Rose looked nervous.  “Is it real?”

“The spells are real,” I said, slowly.  Authentication spells weren't exactly rare, but only the Great Houses used them regularly.  Most merchants considered them a headache, as they required specially-trained Charms Masters.  “And that’s fairly indicative ...”

I read the letter quickly, silently discounting the paragraphs upon paragraphs of pointless flattery before the writer got to the point.  Mum had told me that courtesy and politeness were the foundations of society, but I tended to think that the writer had gone too far.  There was just too much flattery in his words for me to take it seriously.  And then I found the crucial lines ...

“He wants a betrothal?”

“That's what I thought it meant,” Rose said.  “Bella said I should ask you.”

I hastily scanned the rest of the scroll, looking for the name.  Lord Bolingbroke - Clarian’s father - was interested in arranging a betrothal between Rose and Clarence Hunter-Bolingbroke, his nephew.  The offer was astonishingly generous, perhaps more generous than it needed to be.  Lord Bolingbroke offered lands and gold as a down payment, then promised to settle additional properties on Clarence once Rose and he were wed.  It was, in many ways, too generous.  It made me sure there was a sting in the tail.

“This is good,” I muttered.  “Too good.”

Rose winced.  “Is he someone they want to get rid of?”

“Not if they’re settling so much property on him,” I said.  I dug through my memory.  I’d met Clarence Hunter-Bolingbroke at one of those wretched parties, but he’d been a year or two older than me ... too old to play with little girls.  He’d be a third-year student, unless he was being homeschooled.  “He’s not that much older than us.”

“So he’s not a doddering old man,” Rose said.  “That’s something, at least.”

I frowned.  “Better to check on that, just in case,” I said.  I’d have to look Clarence Hunter-Bolingbroke up in the library.  He’d have an entry in The Great Houses List, even if it recorded nothing more than his birthday, parents and family tree.  “They might be trying to pull a fast one.”

Rose took back the scroll.  “Is this a serious offer?”

“It looks serious,” I said.  I stared at her.  “Are you considering it?”

“I don’t know,” Rose said.  “Should I be considering it?”

I took a moment to gather my thoughts.  “It looks like a genuine offer,” I said.  “It will be easy enough to verify the sender, then confirm the specifics ... we can probably do that in the library, if you want.  But afterwards ...”

Rose leaned forward.  “Afterwards?”

“It may not be easy,” I said.

I eyed the scroll for a long moment.  “On the face of it, they’re making a very good offer for your hand in marriage,” I said.  “They’re offering to make a significant payment now, including enough land to make your parents freeholders in their own right.  It would practically make them local gentry” - it would also be a tiny fraction of House Bolingbroke’s resources, but I kept that thought to myself - “and, used properly, it would put them on a secure footing for generations to come.  And they’re prepared to wait until you graduate, which will be seven years away - longer, perhaps, if you take up an apprenticeship.  It’s a very good offer.”

“I see,” Rose said.  “What’s the catch?”

“There are three,” I said, more confidently now.  “First, there is no way you can get legally married - even with permission from your parents - until you turn seventeen.  The same is true for him, so the marriage will not take place for some time.  You might discover that someone catches your eye, someone you actually like ... and then be heartbroken because you have to marry Clarence.”

I held up a hand to keep her from interrupting.  “The same might be true for him, of course,” I added.  “He’s not a firstie, so he’s at least a year older than us.  He might find someone he wants to marry when he turns seventeen, then try to demand that his parents let him out of the betrothal.  His parents may not be inclined to allow him to leave so easily.”

Rose looked pale.  “Ouch.”

“Second, a betrothal is a long-term link between two families.”  I paused, trying to decide how to say it.  “Once the betrothal is announced, you will be considered an honorary Bolingbroke right from the start.  This is both good and bad: good, because it obliges them to assist and protect you; bad, because you’ll draw attention from Bolingbroke’s enemies.  It will also limit your ability to make friendships and alliances with some of the other students.

“And then there’s the third point.  You are simply not in a good position to bargain.”

I met her eyes.  “My family has a great deal of clout,” I told her.  “And if we entered into a betrothal agreement that we later wanted to back out of, we have enough power and influence to do it.  We’d have to pay compensation, of course, depending on the exact situation, but we’d be free and clear.  It would be an agreement of equals, or one where we were clearly superior ... not one where we are regarded as supplicants.  We could end the betrothal without rancour.”

Rose cocked her head.  “But it would still be taken as insulting?”

I shrugged.  “It depends,” I said.  “Betrothals have ended, in the past, because the happy couple refused to wed when they came of age.  That’s embarrassing, but acceptable.  Others have ended because one house lost a great deal of power and status, leaving the other house trying desperately to get out of the match.  Rose, feuds have started over less.

“But, in your case, you would have to hand back everything they gave you if you decided you didn't want to go through the match.  Imagine it ... you’ve settled on the land, you’ve spent the money ... and then, suddenly, they demand it back.  You would have literally no way to avoid losing everything.  Your parents would be uprooted, if they were lucky.  They’d have a very good reason to force you to go through with the wedding.”

Rose paled.  “What if he doesn't want to go through with it?”

“That would still be tricky,” I said.  “Does your family have the money to hire a good lawyer?”

“No,” Rose said.

I met her eyes, warningly.  “You’d probably not lose everything, if there was no dispute about who wanted to end the match, but ... it would still be costly.  You probably wouldn't be able to afford a lawyer capable of presenting your case in Magus Court, let alone one who could convince a jury of senior magicians that you were the victims.  Either way, it could get very bad.”

Rose looked down at the scroll.  “Why me?”

“You’re my friend,” I said.  “And Akin’s friend.  I imagine Lord Bolingbroke thinks you’d be a good investment.  You’ll probably get more offers if you reject this one.”

I felt a stab of sympathy.  The offer was a good one, very good.  That was enough to tell me that House Bolingbroke was more interested in a long-term partnership than simply removing Rose from the pool of potential marriage partners before someone else snapped her up.  Her family stood to benefit considerably if the betrothal turned into a marriage.  But it wasn’t one that had been written with Rose’s best interests in mind.  If things went sour, they’d go really sour.  Rose would be lucky if she was left with the shirt on her back.

Rose sighed.  “What do you think I should do?”

“I’m not sure,” I admitted.  “How would you arrange a marriage in your community?”

“There are ... dances ... for girls and boys who are old enough to marry, chaperoned by our mothers,” Rose said.  She smiled, rather wanly.  “We were told that we were not allowed to attend until we turned sixteen at the very earliest.  I think we get encouraged to partner up with boys and girls from other villages, then if things go well ...”

She shook her head.  “That isn't going to happen for me, is it?”

“Probably not,” I agreed.  It didn't sound that different from formalised dances in High Society.  The grand dames would be horrified at the mere thought.  “But you don’t have to take the first offer someone makes to you.”

I took a long breath.  “Sleep on it,” I advised.  “If you like the idea, we can forward the scroll to my father and let him have a look at it.  He might have some good advice.  After that ... if you want to go through with it, Dad can help us make the arrangements.  If not ... I can help you draft a polite, but firm rejection.  They may try to make you a better offer.”

“It feels odd,” Rose said.  “I’m too young to get married.  He’s too young to get married.  I don’t even know him.”

“You’ll be spending a great deal of time together, if you get betrothed,” I warned her.  “You will be chaperoned, of course.”

“Of course,” Rose echoed.

She looked at the scroll, rather wistfully.  “We don’t need to trouble your father with it,” she said.  “Please, can you help me draft a formal rejection ...

Her voice trailed off.  “Does Clarian know about this?”

“I doubt it,” I said.  I didn't know Clarian that well.  She might never know that her father had tried to arrange the betrothal.  Come to think of it, Clarence might never know his uncle had tried to arrange the betrothal.  “Clarence will have to give his consent at some point, but ...”

Rose gasped.  “Are you saying he might not know?”

“It's a possibility,” I said.  “His uncle might not have discussed the matter with him.”

Rose looked at me as if I’d suddenly started speaking in tongues.  “This isn't something minor,” she protested.  “It’s ...”

Her eyes widened in horror.  “Your father,” she said, suddenly.  “Would he arrange a betrothal for you?  Without telling you?”

I frowned.  “I think he might try to test the waters a little before discussing the issue with me,” I said.  I’d never considered it a serious possibility.  My lack of magic would deter potential suitors and their parents.  Even now ... my talents brought disadvantages as well as advantages.  Dad would have had to promise the sun and the moon to convince some unlucky boy’s parents that I was a good match.  “But nothing could be agreed without my consent.”

Rose studied the scroll for a long moment.  “So why did they send the scroll to me?”

“Good question,” I said.  None of the answers that came to mind were very flattering.  Rose’s family might be considered an irrelevance, as far as House Bolingbroke was concerned.  Or they might have wanted to rush Rose into an agreement when her parents might be a little more careful.  “They might have expected my father to act on your behalf ...”

“It doesn't matter,” Rose said.  “Can you help me draft a formal rejection?”

“Yeah,” I said.  “I’ll just have to look up the current form to make sure I get it right.”

“Thank you, Cat,” Rose said.  She held up the scroll.  “What should I do with this?”

“Put it in your trunk,” I advised.  “If someone else makes an offer for you, you can use it to demand a higher price.”

“You make it sound like a business transaction,” Rose commented.

“It is,” I said, bluntly.  “The Great Houses see marriage as just another way of trading power and influence.”

I frowned as she tucked the scroll away in her blazer pocket.  The offer was good, far too good.  And that meant ... what?  Rose was a good investment, but ... she was hardly the only promising new student in Jude’s.  Had my father said a few words in the right set of ears?  Or ... what about Akin’s father?  He’d suggested finding Rose a husband, hadn't he?

“Let’s go,” Rose said.  “Everyone’s playing netball at the moment.  The library will be crowded later.”

I nodded and stood, shrugging off my blazer.  “Is there blood on my shirt?”

Rose looked.  “A little,” she said.  “What happened?”

“She scratched me,” I said.  “Her fingernails are very sharp.”

“Oh,” Rose said.  She sounded as if she was trying not to laugh.  “That’s ... bad.”

“Yes.”  I checked the inside of my blazer, then the outside.  It didn't look as though Alana had actually managed to damage it.  “I’ll have to make sure to wipe it up later.”

Rose nodded as I pulled the blazer back on.  “Do you want to go to the infirmary?”

“No,” I said.  As long as I cleaned up the blood, it shouldn't pose a problem.  It wasn't as if I was in real pain.  I certainly didn't want to give Alana the satisfaction of knowing she’d sent me for medical help again.  “Let’s go.”

The corridors felt oddly quiet as we walked up the stairs.  I glanced from side to side, half-hoping we’d spot Akin.  I owed him an apology for Alana’s behaviour, if nothing else.  If we went back to the workroom ... I considered it for a moment, then decided that writing Rose’s letter was more important.  House Bolingbroke needed to be told about the rejection as quickly as possible, if there was no room for negotiation.  If their grand dames were anything like our grand dames, they’d be planning the wedding already.

Which would have been at least five years in the future, I thought.  I didn't think House Bolingbroke could have pressed Rose to finish her schooling earlier, but they might have tried.  I shrugged.  It’s all immaterial now.

“I’m sorry about my sister,” I said, to Rose.  “Did you and Bella have a good time?”

“It wasn't bad,” Rose said.  “But she doesn't explain things as well as you.”

I nodded.  “I had to learn everything from first principles,” I told her.  “Ironically, it was excellent training for forging Objects of Power.”

We passed a statue of a man with a beard that fell down to the ground and a faintly desperate expression on his face, positioned next to a passageway that had been secret, once upon a time.  No one knew who the man actually was, according to the small plaque under his feet, but he’d saved the school a few hundred years ago.  It made me wonder just how much else had been lost over the years.  How many questions would remain forever unanswered because vital books and records had been lost?

Like the secret of Objects of Power, I thought.  But we solved that mystery, eventually.

Rose nudged me.  “Upperclassmen.”

I tensed.  A set of boys ... fifth or sixth years, at a guess ... ambling down the corridor as though they owned the place.  They’d probably been playing football, I guessed.  They were wearing sweaty shorts and shirts rather than their uniforms.  I was surprised they hadn't showered before leaving the Arena.  Perhaps they thought the showers in their dorms were better.  I’d heard the Arena’s showers were always cold or dribbled unpleasantly.  It was a relief that sports were not compulsory.

The boys stopped, their faces suddenly alarmed.  I tensed as they grabbed for the focusing devices on their belts.  Were they frightened of me?  It didn't seem likely.  And then I heard someone behind me ...

... And then the first hex slammed into my back.

Chapter Twenty

The bracelet grew warm on my arm.

“Get down,” I shouted at Rose.  More hexes were flying over my head, smashing into the football players.  “Hurry!”

Rose didn't need to be told twice.  We hit the floor together, hard enough to hurt.  My bracelet warmed as something passed very close to me, close enough to make my hair want to stand on end.  The air started to heat as red flashes of light darted overhead, striking the boys I’d seen ...

I looked from side to side desperately, trying to find a way out.  There seemed to be two groups of upperclassmen ... no, three.  Dad had tried to teach me how to read a duel, but this was no duel.  Rules seemed to have been forgotten as the upperclassmen lashed into each other, magic flashing and flaring around them.  Terror roared at the back of my mind as I tried to crawl towards the wall.  I’d known I was powerless since I was very young, but this ...

Rose snapped off a spell.  I wasn't sure who she was aiming at, or why, but her target had no trouble batting it away.  He struck back, firing a sickly green hex at her.  Rose screamed as her body morphed into a slug, the transformation actually hurting her.  I stared in horror, then reached desperately for the dispeller.  There were too many big feet around.  Someone might easily step on her and then ... what?  She’d be dead.

The bracelet heated, again.  I looked up and glared at the upperclassman, then slashed the dispeller through the air.  His hex came apart in a shower of sparks.  He stared at me in shock, suddenly realising that he’d tried to hex someone five years younger than himself.  I took advantage of his distraction to discharge one of my spell-rings in his direction, then undo the spell on Rose before it was too late.  She looked utterly terrified as her body returned to normal.  Even now, she wasn't used to having her body reshaped on a whim.

“We need to move,” I shouted at her, catching her arm.  “This way!”

I pulled her towards me, shouting all the time.  I wasn't sure she heard me over the deafening racket.  The noise was growing louder, pieces of debris falling from the ceiling and adding to the chaos.  A light crystal exploded as it overloaded ... I gritted my teeth, hoping it didn't mean that the local ward network was collapsing.  If that had been damaged, the battle might threaten the school itself.  I didn't think that magic held the school together, but I wouldn't have cared to gamble on it.  The school had been a home for magic for so long that power had infused into the walls.

Rose’s eyes were alight with panic.  She shouted something at me, but I couldn’t hear her either.  I wasn't even sure where we were going.  The corridor seemed to be blocked at both ends, as if the two sides - or three sides - were determined not to break.  There didn't seem to be any other way out, either.  All we could do was cling to the walls and hope to be overlooked ...

“STOP USING MAGIC,” a voice said.  My bracelet warmed, again.  “STAND UP.  PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD.  BE SILENT.”

Rose pulled free of me and stood, moving as if she was no longer in command of her own body.  The deluge of hexes - and noises - came to a sudden stop, leaving my ears ringing.  I looked down the corridor and sucked in my breath.  Upperclassmen were standing, resting their hands on their heads.  The Castellan stood beyond them, holding a Device of Power in one hand.  I recognised the weird design and swallowed a word I knew I wasn't supposed to know.  Compellers were rare and difficult to forge - I’d never forged one - but they were powerful and dangerous.  Anyone without specific protections, or a very strong will, would find themselves doing whatever they were told to do.

And even using the device requires strong magic, I reminded myself, as I stumbled to my feet.  I’d never doubted the Castellan’s power, but still ...  The look he gave me made it clear that he knew I wasn't affected.  I wasn't sure I’d have been affected for very long even if I hadn't had the bracelet.  My resistance might not be that much stronger than the average students, but magic simply didn't cling to me.  And Alana gave me plenty of practice in resisting compulsions.

The Castellan strode forward.  His eyes lingered on me and Rose for a long second, then turned to the upperclassmen.  I followed his gaze, trying to read his feelings in his impassive face.  It was so still that I knew he was angry.  He had a power - and a presence - second only to my father.  But then, the Triad wouldn't have selected a weakling to run the school.  I groaned, inwardly, as he turned his gaze to the scorched and battered walls.  We hadn't caused the fight, but ... we were in trouble anyway.  I knew it.

“You are supposed to be upperclassmen,” the Castellan said.  “You are supposed to be responsible students, charged with keeping an eye on the lowerclassmen.  Tell me ... just what were you thinking?”

His voice was icy calm.  His eyes bored into the nearest upperclassman.  I was relieved he wasn't looking at me like that.  I felt guilty even though I knew the fight wasn't my fault.  His tone made me want to quail, to throw myself on my knees and beg for mercy.  I tried to figure out a way to escape, but he’d seen me.  And besides, Rose was still spellbound.  I was unwillingly impressed that the Castellan had managed to compel so many upperclassmen for so long.

“They were provoking us,” the upperclassman managed.  He sounded shocked.  I wasn't sure if he was surprised the fight had turned so nasty or stunned that the Castellan had managed to bring them to heel so easily.  “We ...”

“And so you decided to have a fight in the corridors,” the Castellan said.  “A fight that included two firsties, no less.”

He looked at me for a long moment, then turned away.  “You are supposed to be upperclassmen,” he repeated.  “And yet, you do this.”

His words hung in the air for a long chilling moment.  “You will all, all of you, report to Skullion for two weeks' detention.  You will spend the time washing the floors and cleaning the toilets.  With toothbrushes.  I’m sure the cleaning staff will be happy with a couple of weeks' paid leave while you do all the work.  Or would you rather spend the time in the stocks?”

There was a long chilling pause.  I felt my heart sink.  I’d cleaned floors before, for punishment, and I’d hated it.  And Rose and I would be doing it with a bunch of upperclassmen ... no doubt they’d try to push as much of the work onto us as they could.  I doubted we’d be supervised that closely.  Upperclassmen were supposed to be responsible ... the thought made me want to snort.  This bunch of upperclassmen had been far from responsible.

The Castellan snapped his fingers.  Rose started, her legs buckling.  She would have fallen if I hadn't put out an arm to catch her.  The upperclassmen didn't seem to have taken the enchantment any better.  They were rubbing their arms, doing their best to hide their anger and embarrassment.  A couple looked as if they were on the verge of crying.

An older boy stepped forward.  “Sir ...”

The Castellan glared.  “Yes?”

“The firsties were caught in the middle,” the older boy said.  I realised, with a shock, that he was the one who’d hexed Rose.  “They weren't involved in the fight.”

“That’s true,” another upperclassman said, desperately.  I guessed he’d been on one of the other sides.  “They were just ... there.”

“That isn't much of an improvement,” the Castellan said.  He looked at me, then switched his gaze to Rose.  “Very well.  They will not be included in the punishment.  But do not make the mistake of thinking that I will go lightly on you because you spoke up for them.”

He met my eyes.  It was all I could do not to look away.

“I’ll be calling an assembly in thirty minutes,” he added, never taking his eyes off me.  “Report to the Great Hall and wait.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

I led Rose down the corridor as quickly as I could, without giving the impression I was running.  I didn't think I fooled anyone.  I’d been protected, but ... the protections might not have lasted.  I had no way to calculate just how many hexes they could absorb.  And yet, I could have given Rose one of the spare bracelets and simply walked through the hexes ... I kicked myself, mentally.  I should have thought of that, shouldn't I?  But there were ways to get around my protections ...

Rose staggered as soon as we were out of earshot.  “That was ... awful,” she said.  “My arms weren't doing as they were told.”

“I know how it feels,” I said.  She looked pale.  I hoped she wasn't going to throw up.  “We have to keep moving.”

I forced myself to think as we stumbled on.  The Castellan was going to get in real trouble for using a Compeller on us.  Writing lines were fine, scrubbing floors were fine ... Compellers were anything but.  Under normal circumstances, the Great Houses would demand his immediate removal.  And they’d get it too.  Now ...

He knew the risks and did it anyway, I thought.  The Great Houses might be fighting a war, but a threat to their children might be enough to convince them to put their differences aside and unite against a common foe.  Was he hoping to end the war ... or did he see no other way to end the fight?

I swallowed, hard, as we walked into the Great Hall.  The fight had been savage, nastier - in many ways - than our running battle with Fairuza’s servants.  I didn't want to think about how many upperclassmen had come close to being seriously injured ... had anyone come close to being injured?  I hadn't been paying attention, but it would be a minor miracle if no one had been scratched.  And we’d been caught in the middle.  I felt my limbs begin to shake as we sat down in the front row.  We could have been seriously injured.

The hall filled up slowly.  This time, there were no upperclassmen helping to chide the younger students into the chamber.  I wondered, grimly, just what it meant for the school if the teachers could no longer count on the upperclassmen to keep order.  They were supposed to be responsible ... I shook my head.  The Castellan had said that, twice, but I doubted he believed it any longer.  The upperclassmen were part of the problem now.

Akin sat next to us.  “What happened?”

“Long story,” I said.  It had only been twenty minutes - less, perhaps - but rumours would already be flying around the school.  “A bunch of upperclassmen started fighting and we were in the middle of it.”

His eyes went wide.  “Are you all right?”

I exchanged a glance with Rose.  “It could have been worse,” I said.  “We nearly got to share in their punishment.”

Alana and Bella walked in, closely followed by Isabella.  Alana shot me a nasty look when she saw the three of us together, but she seemed to have the sense to keep her mouth shut.  I saw a nasty-looking bruise just above her mouth, where I’d smacked her.  She clearly hadn't bothered to go find a healing salve either.  I wondered, absently, just what Bella had said to her.  Had she told Alana about Rose’s betrothal?

Which isn't even going to get off the ground, I thought.  But Alana might be jealous anyway.

I shook my head, carefully ignoring my sisters.  We didn't need another fight, certainly not one in public.  But would Alana be jealous?  It was unlikely that any of us would be betrothed, certainly not in a hurry.  There weren’t many families who had something we needed, something that they could leverage to demand a betrothal in exchange.  Alana would have to wait until her Season before she could start talking about marriage in earnest.

And we’re still too young, I reminded myself.  We can wait ...

A wave of silence washed across the chamber.  I looked up.  The Castellan was standing on the stage, clasping his hands behind his back.  He’d changed into his formal robes, somewhere along the way.  The red and gold suited him, I thought.  But it also made him look hellishly intimidating.

“Not even one hour ago, two groups of upperclassmen decided to have a fight,” the Castellan said, coolly.  “They didn't claim Student’s Rights.  They didn't arrange a time and a place for a contest to settle the issue.  They just attacked each other on sight, using spells that are forbidden within the school ... forbidden with good reason, I might add.  Such behaviour cannot be tolerated.”

My heart leapt into my mouth.  Fighting in the corridors was bad enough, but using forbidden spells ...?  That was worse.  It was the first sign that someone might eventually become a warlock.  And they’d set a bad example too.  The Castellan was right.  There was nothing stopping the upperclassmen from arranging a formal duel, if they’d wished.  Instead, they’d just crashed into each other.

I blinked as I caught up with his words.  Two groups?

“The upperclassmen responsible are being severely punished,” the Castellan added.  “In addition, their punishment books have been taken away.  They no longer have the authority to issue punishments, nor will they be allowed to patrol the school.”

“Ouch,” Akin muttered.

I nodded in agreement.  I’d heard of students being suspended - or even expelled - but I’d never heard of an upperclassman losing his punishment book.  It was a demotion, to all intents and purposes.  They’d practically been turned back into lowerclassmen.  And the upperclassmen who’d kept their books?  Did they now have the authority to issue punishments to the demoted upperclassmen?  I was sure the thought had gone through their minds.  It had certainly occurred to me.

“This will mean that the patrol schedule will have to be revised,” the Castellan told us.  “I will outline a provisional schedule to the upperclassmen after this meeting.  However, right now, there is a more important matter to discuss.”

He leaned forward.  His robes obscured much of his body language, but I could tell he was tense.

“Jude’s has a long and proud tradition of neutrality,” he told us.  “Whatever the situation on the other side of the walls, we take our neutrality seriously.  Children from all walks of life, from all of the Great Houses, can come to Jude’s and study in reasonable safety.  We seek to provide a place where lessons can be learnt, without too much being at stake.  We do not take sides.

“I understand that tensions have been steadily rising for the past five months.  I understand that many of you feel that your families are under attack, or that you have to fight to defend yourself against a hostile world.  But you are children.  You are safe here.”

“Hah,” I muttered.

I rolled my eyes, despite knowing I’d be in trouble if I was caught.  Jude’s had never been safe, not even for Alana or Isabella.  And it had been worse for Rose and me, because one of us lacked magic and the other lacked status.  I dreaded to think about what might happen if we lost the war.  We might be able to stay at Jude’s for a few years, if we were very lucky, but afterwards?  The thought of being forcibly adopted was terrifying.

“We cannot tolerate - we will not tolerate - the House War spilling into the school,” the Castellan warned.  “The next students to engage in bitter conflict in our corridors will spend an hour in the stocks.  Do not assume that I am bluffing.  You will regret it.”

His words hung in the air.  I believed him.  Or at least I believed he would try.  If he couldn't rely on the upperclassmen to keep order, what then?  There were nearly a thousand students in the school.  The teachers couldn't police them all.  Could they?

“Lowerclassmen, you are dismissed,” the Castellan said.  “Return to your dorms and stay there until dinner.  Upperclassmen, remain behind.”

Akin rose.  “I’ll see you later,” he said.  “Try not to get into more trouble.”

“We’ll do our best,” I said.  “You take care of yourself too.”

I stood.  The remainder of the lowerclassmen were filing out in a hurry, as if they couldn’t wait to be gone.  I didn't really blame them.  I wanted to be gone too.  Catching the Castellan’s eye would just get me in trouble, again.  I had a feeling he wasn't bluffing about the stocks.  Dad had told me that, sometimes, it was important to make a show of one’s strength.  The Castellan needed to make an example of someone.

But we’re just firsties, I reminded myself, as we walked up the stairs.  Making an example of an upperclassman will be far more effective.

“What happened to your cheek?”  Isabella was standing outside the dorm, looking cranky.  I had the feeling she was waiting for her cronies.  “It’s a great improvement.”

I rubbed my jaw.  “None of your business,” I said.  I’d almost forgotten about the bruise until she reminded me.  “And you ...”

Sandy came up behind us.  “Get in there,” she snapped.  “And before you ask, I do have my punishment book.”

“Oh,” Isabella muttered.  “What a shame.”

For once, I actually agreed with her.

Chapter Twenty-One

If the Castellan had hoped that his words - and threats - would have any real impact, he was soon sorely disappointed.  Rumours kept sweeping through the school, panic spreading in their wake.  Aguirre Hall had been destroyed.  House Rubén had been forced to surrender and their children were going to be adopted into House Aguirre.  Shops and businesses had been destroyed; fishing boats and clipper ships had been sunk; House MacDonald had switched sides; House Bolingbroke had declared neutrality and withdrawn from the conflict ... I nearly panicked myself when I heard that my parents had been killed and we were going to be put in Uncle Nathan’s tender care.  He wasn't a bad man, but he wasn't my dad.  How could he take Dad’s place?

And each wave of rumours brought conflict into the school.  There were no more major skirmishes between the two sides - or four, six, or eight, depending on whom you believed - but there was plenty of hexing in the corridors.  I saw entire lines of students waiting outside the infirmary, hoping that the healers could remove the hexes that marred their bodies.  Tutors - and the handful of trustworthy upperclassmen - stalked the corridors, handing out lines and detentions with a free hand.  And the Castellan hadn't been bluffing about the stocks.  There seemed to be a new student in the stocks every day.

But it wasn't enough.  I tried to keep my head down, reminding myself - time and time again - that the rumours were never confirmed - but it was impossible.  Alana and Robin weren't the only ones who seemed to believe I could be a decisive factor in the House War.  Older students begged me for protections, or weapons, or something else that might tip the balance.  I was grimly aware that Sandy, at least, had already figured out a way to go around my protections and it was just a matter of time until someone else did the same.  Very few students were stupid.  Stupid magicians rarely lasted very long.

The only place that appeared to be safe, at least for me, was the workroom.  Magister Tallyman was kind enough to let me work in peace after classes, although he sometimes allowed Rose and Akin to join me.  I wasn't sure if that was a little additional kindness or an attempt to pretend he was still neutral, but I didn't mind.  Their company was infinitively preferable to everyone else’s.  They also knew to keep their distance.  I’d lost too much work when someone - accidentally or deliberately - walked too close to my workbench.

And I designed and forged weapons.

It wasn't something I wanted to do, but ... Alana was right.  We were at war.  I’d seen factions break apart, only to reform moments later under different names.  The conflict outside the school found an echo inside the school, with students exchanging hexes in the name of their future patrons.  And Alana was right in the middle of it, issuing orders to older students who would be subordinate to her when she graduated.  I hated to watch, knowing it would tear the city apart.  But I saw no choice.

“I need you to look at this,” I told Rose, one evening.  “What do you make of my box?”

Rose eyed it warily.  “It doesn't look like much.”

I nodded, without taking offense.  The wooden box really didn't look like much.  It looked as if it had been put together by someone with only the vaguest idea of what he was doing, rather than a skilled forger.  The family carpenter would have laughed himself silly if he’d seen the ramshackle box.  It was the size of my trunk, yet the sides looked oddly slanted and the lid was too large.  And ... it looked as if one good kick would smash it to splinters.  Rose was quite right not to be impressed.  She’d only had a few months of training, but she could already do better.

“No, it doesn't,” I agreed.  I pointed to the clasp.  “But try to open it.”

Rose nodded and reached for the lid.  It refused to budge.  She pulled at it for a long moment, then tried to pry up the lid.  It didn't move either.  The design might be inelegant, but it was workable.  I’d crafted another Object of Power.  No one would be able to get into the box without my permission.  The sort of force necessary to burn through the spellform would destroy the box and its contents.

I motioned for her to step back, then touched the clasp.  It opened, immediately.

Rose’s eyes narrowed.  “Blood-bonded?”

“Something like that,” I said.  Actually, I’d keyed the spellform to test for an absence of magic as well as a single specific user.  It hadn't been easy.  The first couple of designs had worked, in theory, but practically they’d been useless.  Someone would have been able to open the box with a long stick, then simply take what they wanted.  “It’s keyed to me.”

I turned the box - it was light in my hands too - and showed her the contents.  I’d forged dozens of Objects of Power over the last week, from spellcasters to protective amulets and bracelets.  Some of my earlier designs had been retired - I no longer needed to use such limited artefacts - while others had been improved.  And, unlike the box, they could be used by anyone.

“It's bigger on the inside,” Rose said, admiringly.  “How long did it take you to forge?”

“A week,” I admitted.  The books claimed it could be done in less than a day, but I wasn't so sure.  But then, I’d only been able to snatch a few moments each day to forge the box.  “I had to carve out the interior dimensions, then embed the trays and shelves within the framework.”

“Clever,” Rose said.  “You could turn this into a house!”

“I doubt it,” I said.  Theoretically, it was possible.  Practically ... I wasn’t so sure.  If the spellform ever collapsed, the contents would be violently ejected in all directions.  That might explain just how weird the Eternal City had become, after the magic went away for a few seconds.  The pocket dimensions had spewed raw magic in all directions.  “Building something larger than this would take too much time.”

But I had to admit I was almost tempted.  A house that was tiny on the outside, but immensely huge on the inside ... I could simply stay inside, whatever happened.  And yet, there would be no way out, save for the front door.  I considered the possibilities for a long moment, then decided it wasn't worth the effort.  The risk of getting trapped and running out of food would be too great.

I shook my head.  “I want to add you to the list of people who can get into the box,” I said.  I didn't need to add that there was only one person - me - who could get inside.  Alana and Bella might try, if they thought the box was blood-bonded, but they’d fail.  “And ... I’m going to put the sword inside too.”

Rose cocked her head.  “You could forge another box, put the sword inside and give it to Akin’s father,” she suggested.  “He’d have the sword, but he’d be unable to use it.”

“... I could,” I said, after a moment.  “If we’d had that idea a month or so ago ... it’s too late now, I think.”

“I know,” Rose said.  She reached out and patted my arm, awkwardly.  “Is there anywhere for you to go?”

I shrugged.  If I ran ... where would I go?  I was too young to pass unnoticed.  If I went to the king, I suppose I could trade my services for safety ... or maybe I could go further away.  A clipper ship might take me, no questions asked, if I gave them a handful of Objects of Power or a great deal of money ... no, they would ask questions.  I was simply too noticeable outside the city.

“I don’t think so,” I said.  “If something happens to me ... open the box, then do what you see fit.”

I took her palm, took a tiny blood sample and worked it into the clasp.  That had taken more time and effort than the rest of the box put together, but - as I watched the blood slowly seeping into the metal, I knew it had been worth it.  Rose would be able to open the box, with or without me.  If something happened ... I wanted to cry in frustration.  I wanted to explore my gifts, not prepare for a war.

But the Castellan is losing control, I thought, numbly.  What’ll happen when his authority finally collapses?

It wasn't a pleasant thought.  Magister Von Rupert and Magister Grayson had had me assisting them with the wards, but it was clear - to me, at least - that they’d reached the limits of what they could do.  The wards were already fraying badly, simply because they couldn't draw enough power to function properly.  It was only a matter of time until they collapsed completely.  And then ... the school would be defenceless.  The factions would be free to fight as they wished, until they brought down the entire building.  I just didn't know what to do.

I could tell them the truth, I told myself.  But what would they do then?

Rose nudged me.  “Cat?”

I blinked.  “Sorry,” I said.  “I wandered into my thoughts and got lost.”

“It certainly looked like you were lost,” Rose said.  She shot me a reassuring look.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s all going to be fine,” I lied, as I closed the box.  I didn't want to talk about it.  There was just too much at stake.  “See if you can open the box now.”

Rose reached out and pressed her fingers against the box.  It opened the moment she touched the clasp.  I allowed myself a moment of relief, then closed the box again.  We’d take it up to the dorms, then hide it under Rose’s bed.  No one would look twice at it.  Everyone knew Rose was too poor to purchase a trunk.  Her clothes had arrived in cloth bags that Isabella - and almost everyone else - had mocked endlessly.  They’d mock her ramshackle box too, but this time the joke would be on them.  I’d carved her initials into the wood just to be sure they drew the wrong conclusion.

“Clever,” Rose said.

“You’re welcome,” I said.  I nodded to her workbench.  “Do you want to keep working on your sensor?”

Rose winked at me, then hurried back to her workbench.  Magister Tallyman might have turned a blind eye to some of what we were doing, but he wouldn't be pleased if Rose didn't have a working sensor by the time her mock exams rolled around.  I wouldn't have blamed him, either.  Sensors were hardly complex Devices of Power, although they could be tricky to forge if the dimensions weren't entirely correct.  I watched her sit down and set to work, then turned my attention back to my notebook.  Magister Von Rupert had forced me to ask myself many questions about the magic field.

The ancients had it easy, I thought, sourly.  They weren't alone.

I looked down at my notes, trying to understand how the field worked.  Logically, if we were going to run out of magic, we’d have done it already.  Society had been using magic for the past two thousand years ... longer, perhaps, if one believed the stories about world-spanning empires that predated the Thousand-Year Empire.  There was definitely a great and ancient civilisation on the other side of the world - Hangchow - as well as the remains of something near the Saragossa Archipelago.  And yet, there might be a lot of magic.  No one was more aware than I that most spells used relatively little magic.

And there might be something replenishing the magic, like plants turn carbon dioxide into oxygen, I considered.  But what?

There was no answer.  But there had to be something replenishing the magic, didn't there?  Or ... had we simply not run out of magic yet?  The world was immense, three-quarters covered in ocean.  If everyone alive took a drink from the oceans at the same time, the total level would barely drop at all.  Or so I thought ... I considered the numbers for a long moment, then decided it was a waste of effort.  We used much less magic, relatively speaking, than the Thousand-Year Empire.  Maybe the magic field had slowly replenished itself since the empire had crashed into rubble.

I shook my head.  What had Tyros and his friends done?  Tyros had insisted that they’d drained all the magic in the Eternal City, but I knew the magic had come back.  Akin and Rose had both used magic freely during our escape, as had our former captors.  Did that mean the field had levelled out?  Or ... there was no question that something had happened to the magic in the Eternal City.  Even I had felt uneasy as we sneaked through the rubble.  If they’d drained the magic, how had their Object of Power functioned?

Presumably it stopped working when the local magic level ran too low, I thought, as I considered the possibilities.  Something designed to simply use magic ... it would be horrendously inefficient, but that was part of the point.  It would have to constantly raise the power drain too, otherwise it might just stabilise.  We had light-crystals in the school that glowed constantly, without running out of power.  And that means ...

Almost against my will, the concept came to life in my mind.  The equations were crude and wasteful, utterly inelegant, but workable.  Once established, the Object of Power would turn into a magic whirlpool, sucking in magic until it ran out ... at which point, it would collapse in on itself.  And yet, I couldn't see any hint of limitations.  The device Tyros and his friends had built should have kept going until the entire magic field was drained dry.  They should have removed all the magic.

But the Eternal City was falling down around their ears, I reminded myself.  I’d heard the stories of flying buildings and I’d seen the rubble.  Perhaps one of the falling buildings had landed right on top of the Object of Power, smashing it beyond repair.  It wouldn't be a particularly strong device.  A good whack with a hammer would be enough to disable it permanently.  I wonder why they didn't think of that?

I puzzled it over for a long moment, then put the thought aside.  I’d never know.  Instead, I considered ways to make the concept real.  It was simple, devilishly simple.  Once you knew how the magic field actually worked, it was very easy to find a way to drain it.  Pushing it aside was harder ... I thought I could see a way to do it, theoretically, but where would I get the power?  Maybe it could be pushed back for a handful of seconds.  It would be more than long enough to do immense damage, in the right place.  Magus Court would collapse immediately if the magic went away.

My fingertips twitched.  I could forge the Object of Power.  I could ... I was tempted, very tempted.  What would the world be like without magic?  Would it be better or worse?  And would everyone who had mocked me for being born without magic enjoy living in a world where they were powerless?  I understood, all too well, the forces that had driven Tyros and his friends.  Why not bring the powerful down?

And yet ... I shuddered.  Magic was everywhere.  We lit fires with magic, we healed the sick with magic ... we even fought wars with magic.  The world would be a very different place without magic, a worse place.  I didn't want to take the risk of accidentally draining the entire field ...

It should be impossible, I thought, as I started to put the pieces together.  I wouldn't complete the work, of course, not until I found a safe place to experiment.  If I alter the spellform just slightly.

The Object of Power took shape under my fingers.  It really wasn't very complex at all, nothing more than a piece of clockwork mated with two revolving discs.  And yet, I could sense the potential, hanging in the air like a promise of doom.  I wanted to tear the device apart, to rip the connections away instead of completing them, but I didn't.  It was all I could do to keep from completing the Object of Power and triggering the spellform.  Who knew what would happen then?

I forced myself to take a step back, then picked up the pieces and put them into the box.  No one would know what they were and, if they figured it out, no one but me would be able to complete the work.  I could take it to the family estate in the summer, if Dad agreed to let me go, and experiment there.  Or ...

Rose cleared her throat as the bell rang.  “Dinner,” she said.  She put her work to one side, then started to tidy up her workbench.  “Shall we go?”

“We’ll take the box upstairs first,” I said.  “And then we can go eat.”

Sweat was prickling down my back.  I was shaking and I wasn't even sure why.  I’d crossed a line.  I didn't want to admit it, even to myself, but I’d crossed a line.  I wanted to use the Object of Power, despite knowing the dangers.  And even under controlled circumstances ... I shook my head, dismissing the thought.  I wasn't going to be so foolish ...

... And yet, that night, the nightmares grew worse.

Chapter Twenty-Two

“You really need to lay off the cheese,” Sandy said, as she poked her head through my drapes the following morning.  “I could hear you screaming despite the muffling wards.”

I cringed, fighting down the urge to hide under the sheets.  Sandy’s bed was at the end of the dorm, right next to the door.  If she’d heard me, there was at least a chance that everyone else had heard me.  My dormmates should have cast muffling spells to make sure they slept in peace, but ... these days, everyone slept uncomfortably, expecting to be hexed the moment they closed their eyes.  I’d heard that some of the dorms had practically collapsed into civil war.

“I’m sorry,” I managed.  My throat was dry.  “I ... I guess I didn't sleep well.”

Sandy passed me a glass of water.  “I’d say you had something on your conscience,” she said, darkly.  “Are you responsible for the frog someone animated to demand a kiss from all the girls?”

I shook my head, hastily.  “Do you think I could do that?”

“No one knows what you can and cannot do,” Sandy said.  “Magistra Solana was blaming it on the fifth-year boys, but I do wonder ...”

“It was a girl,” I said, without thinking.  “Not a boy.”

Sandy cocked her eyebrow.  “How so?”

I mentally kicked myself.  It wasn't tattling, not really, but ... I’d said too much and now she thought I knew something, instead of making an educated guess.  If she decided to report me to Magistra Solana ... it wouldn't be tattling if she did it.

“We’d blame the boys for a frog that demanded kisses from the girls,” I told her.  “And that suggests that it was actually a girl who cast the spell.  She wouldn't be suspected automatically.”

“Huh.”  Sandy didn’t sound pleased.  “Get dressed and get down to breakfast.  I’ve already sent your friend down.”

I glanced at the clock, then hastily swung my legs over the side of the bed.  There was only twenty minutes to go before breakfast came to an end and if I didn't get down in time ... I dressed rapidly, silently thanking the ancients that I’d had a shower the previous evening.  I didn't think I had time to shower now.

The corridors felt uneasy as I hurried downstairs, carefully evading the group of upperclassmen who were scrubbing one of the floors.  They looked like drowning mice, their overalls so wet with soapy water that they were clinging to their skins.  I made sure not to catch their eyes, even though their punishment books had been taken away.  They had long memories.  And they’d certainly remember me.

I opened the door to the dining room and looked around.  Rose was sitting by herself, isolated from the gangs infesting the rest of the room.  Magister Grayson was marching up and down the chamber, looking murderous.  I was relieved to see him.  The tension in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife, but I doubted anyone would risk starting a fight with Magister Grayson patrolling the room.  He was well known for giving out truly horrendous detentions.

Rose looked relieved to see me as I collected a tray and sat down next to her.  “Akin was here earlier,” she said, “but Isabella was bending his ear about something.  She barely let him eat anything before she dragged him out of the room.”

I blinked.  “Why?”

“I have no idea,” Rose said.  “Unless she doesn't want him to spend any time with us.”

“Probably,” I muttered.  Isabella had disapproved of Akin and I being friends right from the start.  I couldn't help thinking that that was a little short-sighted.  Surely, it would be better to let him befriend me and then argue that our friendship disqualified him as a potential patriarch.  “Why does he let her push him around?”

“I don’t think he wants to fight with her in public,” Rose said.  “Do you fight with your sisters in front of everyone?”

I shook my head, conceding the point.  The family was meant to be united.  Or, at least, pretend to be united.  Akin and Isabella probably had the same problem.  They might want to fight like cats and dogs, but they weren't allowed to do it where someone could see them.  It would reflect badly on their father.

“I received this,” Rose said, holding out a scroll.  “Is it good news?”

I spooned some porridge into my mouth, then took the scroll and opened it.  There wasn't much to it, really.  House Bolingbroke had accepted Rose’s decision without demur.  I made a mental note to discuss it with my father, anyway.  It might be a good sign that they hadn’t tried to raise the offer ... or it might be a very bad sign.  Perhaps they’d decided, after they’d sent the offer, that they’d offered too much ... I passed it back to her as I swallowed my breakfast.  It could have been worse.

“They’ve accepted your decision,” I told her.  “And they’re not saying anything about keeping channels open.”

Rose frowned.  “Is that good or bad?”

“Both,” I said.  The bell rang.  “Come on.  We’d better get to class.”

The corridors seemed noisier as we made our way down to the potions classroom.  I saw a pair of teachers patrolling, although it didn’t seem likely that they had a chance of spotting a stealthily-cast hex.  The wards were definitely breaking down, no matter what we did.  I’d actually thought about suggesting a rebuild of the entire network from scratch, but that would require me to either learn how to produce new wardstones or design something to take their place.  Jude’s was too large and complex to be protected by standard wards.

We took our seats at the front of the classroom, silently relieved to have made it through the corridors without incident, and waited for the rest of the class to arrive.  Isabella was five minutes late, much to Magistra Loanda’s annoyance.  She made Isabella stand in the corner as if she was a five-year-old while she launched into a complicated lecture that even I found difficult to follow.  I could see the back of Isabella’s neck turning red as she stood there, helplessly.  It was hard not to laugh at her.

“And so we come to the mocks,” Magistra Loanda said, finally.  She gave us all a nasty stare, then cast a stinging hex at Isabella.  “Take your seat and see me after the class.”

Isabella, her face red, sat down.  Magistra Loanda studied her for a long moment, then turned back to the blackboard.

“There are three aspects to the mock exams,” Magistra Loanda said.  “The first tests your theoretical knowledge, covering everything you are supposed to have learnt in this class for the past year.  I suggest, if you haven't bothered to crack open a textbook, that you start catching up now.  I’ve given you the basics in lectures, and you will be hearing more as we go along, but you are required to demonstrate understanding in your exams.”

She paused to allow that to sink in.  “The second requires you to brew a handful of potions,” she continued.  “You’ll have instructions, of course, but other than that you’ll be on your own.  Failure to brew at least three out of five potions will look very bad.  You and I will be working very closely on bringing you up to spec before the real exams.”

I winced.  I liked Magistra Loanda, but ... I didn't want to have her looming over me while I practiced brewing potion after potion.  And Mum’s reputation was at stake.  It would be worse for Alana and Bella, I thought, but it would be no bed of roses for me either.

“Third,” Magistra Loanda said.  “You will be given a puzzle to solve.  The exam will pose a problem for you, which you have to solve by devising and brewing a potion.  You will have all the ingredients you could reasonably want, but you’ll have to come up with everything else yourself.  I will not, of course, tell you what you’ll be trying to solve in advance.  You will enter the exam hall blind.

“That said, I suggest you look at the old exam books, which are stored in the library.  You’ll get some idea of what to do.”

Rose nudged me.  “Isn’t that a little advanced?”

Magistra Loanda overheard her.  “You are expected to have developed certain skills by now, Rose,” she said.  “And an instinctive talent for potions will serve you well in the future.”

I nodded.  Mum had talked about developing her own instincts as she worked towards her mastery.  I'd thrilled to her tales of solving problems, even if most of them had seemed a little mundane in hindsight.  But ... I’d wanted to be like her, once.  Now ... I was solving very different problems.

And causing new ones, I thought.  The Object of Power - I’d started to think of it as the Whirlpool - was hidden under Rose’s bed.  It was in pieces, yet ... I wanted to put it together and use it.  How many more problems will I cause?

“Open your desks,” Magistra Loanda ordered.  “Inside, you will find a puzzle.  I expect you to devise a recipe to solve it by the end of the period.”

I opened my desk.  It was empty.  Magistra Loanda glanced in my direction, then motioned for me to wait.  My heart sank as I watched Rose pull a slip of paper out of her desk.  There was no way I’d be able to complete that part of the exam.  My theory was very good - and it was quite possible I’d be able to devise a recipe - but my brewing instincts were almost non-existent.  And, without stirrers, I didn't know if I’d be able to complete the remainder of the exam either.

“No talking,” Magistra Loanda said.  She walked past my desk, indicating that I should follow her.  “You are to solve this problem on your own.  Begin.”

I was grimly aware of Alana’s eyes boring into my back as I stood and walked after Magistra Loanda, into the little back room.  She’d be alright, I thought.  She might not have paid as much attention in potions class than she should have done - or listened to Mum, when she was handing out useful advice - but she had the instincts.  Rose, on the other hand, would have real problems.  She’d only been learning potions for six months.

“I’ve got another potion I want you to try,” Magistra Loanda said.  “Or do you want to try the other potion one final time?”

I took a breath.  “I’ll take one last shot at it,” I said.  “I ... it should work.”

Magistra Loanda nodded, then turned and walked out of the room.  I sat down for a long moment, focusing my thoughts, then stood and collected the ingredients.  I’d done it before, but this time I took extra care.  If I was right about how the surges of magic actually worked, I’d have only a few seconds to get it right.  It made me wonder how the ancients had managed it.

They knew what they were doing, I told myself, as I lit the fire and waited for the water to boil.  In hindsight, it was clear why so many potions to enhance a magician’s powers had failed.  Everyone had assumed that the power was inherent, rather than drawn from an external source.  And now I know too.

Gritting my teeth, I put the ingredients into the boiling water and started to work, counting the seconds until I needed to insert the first stirrer.  The water turned green rapidly, but there was no surge of magic ... there shouldn't be a surge just yet, I told myself firmly.  It needed to wait a little bit longer.  My count reached three hundred, and I inserted the first stirrer.  The water bubbled violently, then turned brown.  I hastily inserted the second and third stirrers, removing the first two seconds later.  The potion flashed with light - for a moment, I thought it was going to explode - and then settled down.  I yanked out the remaining stirrers, then reached for a wooden spoon and held it above the liquid.  Fifty seconds after the last surge of magic, I dipped the spoon into the potion and stirred.  The potion changed colour ...

I stared.  It was ... strange, shimmering like mother-of-pearl.  I’d never seen anything like it, save for a handful of the most complex brews Mum had made, the ones she’d never allowed us to do more than watch while she brewed them.  And yet ... I took a breath and smelled lilies.  I was tempted, very tempted, to try to drink it.  But I had a feeling it wouldn't have any effect on me.

“You can try if you like,” Magistra Loanda said.

I jumped.  She was standing by the door, arms crossed over her chest.  I glanced at the clock and realised that, somehow, it was already lunchtime.  I’d been so lost in my work that I hadn't realised that the bell had rung.  I hoped Rose had waited for me.  I didn't want to go to lunch alone.

“I think it wouldn't work for me,” I said.  Mum and Dad had fed me potions that were supposed to boost magic, but they hadn't done anything for me.  I rather suspected there was no point in trying to enhance a link to the magic field that wasn't actually there.  “But ...”

“It probably wouldn't do you any harm, either,” Magistra Loanda said.  She sounded almost ... understanding.  “Do you want to try?”

I shook my head.  The potion probably wouldn't be effective.  And yet, it would also infuse magic into my body, magic that would take hours - perhaps days - to diffuse back into the surrounding field.  I wouldn't be able to forge until it was gone.  I’d need to use the Whirlpool if I wanted to forge sooner, except ... I wouldn't be able to put it together while my skin was glowing with magic.

“You seem to have made it work,” Magistra Loanda said.  “My congratulations.”

“Thank you,” I said, suddenly very tired.  “What are you going to do with it?”

“Test it, then determine if it can be reproduced by someone else,” Magistra Loanda said, seriously.  “There are quite a few ancient potions that aren’t worth replicating because we’ve moved ahead of them.”

This isn't one of them, I thought.  It was a real enhancement potion, if the books were to be believed.  A weak magician who took it would have a power boost ... for a while.

“I don't like some of the other issues,” Magistra Loanda added.  She was staring at the glowing liquid, her eyes captivated.  “There’s a very good chance that the potion is addictive - quickly addictive, if someone took more than a very tiny dose.  It’s certainly got the right markers.”

“Ouch,” I said.  “And there’s only one source.”

“For the moment,” Magistra Loanda agreed.  “You may wind up being bound to secrecy.”

I nodded.  Dad would certainly insist I kept my mouth shut, if I was the only one who could brew a dangerously addictive potion.  And I could name plenty of magicians who’d cut off their right arms or disown their families for a working enhancement potion.  Someone who wanted Rose’s natural talent for himself ...

“I won’t tell anyone,” I said.  “But ... what can we do with it?”

“We’ll see,” Magistra Loanda said.  She glanced at the clock.  “You are dismissed.  Go get something to eat before your next class.”

I kept my thoughts to myself.  I wasn't sure what she’d do with the potion ... perhaps I should bottle it up and take it.  But I knew she wouldn't let me.  Besides, it would be better to find out the downsides before we started telling the world about it.  There was a price for everything, Dad had warned us.  The potion might come with a nasty sting in the tail.

The classroom was empty, I discovered as I stepped through the door.  A handful of sketchy recipes sat on Magistra Loanda’s desk, waiting for her inspection.  I wanted to take a look - and see what Rose had done - but I didn't dare.  If I got caught ... I glanced at the rear door, then hurried into the corridor.  There was no sign of Rose or anyone else.  They’d probably gone to lunch.  Bella might just have invited Rose to join her ...

I winced, feeling a tinge of bitter jealousy.  Again.  I’d thought I was done with it.  Rose wasn't my exclusive friend, was she?  I didn't mind her being friends with Akin ... but Bella was my sister.  And my sisters had always taken whatever they wanted for themselves.

Rose isn't a doll, I told myself, firmly.  Grandma had given me a doll when I turned seven, a doll Alana had stolen and then destroyed a couple of weeks later.  And Bella isn't going to hurt her.

I was being stupid.  I knew I was being stupid.  And selfish.  And mean.  I was behaving just like Alana.  But ... I still felt jealous.

My stomach rumbled.  I glanced at my watch.  I only had thirty minutes to eat something before I had to go to my next class.  I forced myself to walk along the corridor, trying to convince myself that it was going to be fine.  Rose wasn't going to dump me now she was on speaking terms with Bella.  Rose ... was a good person, better than me.  She was my friend.  But it was hard, somehow, to believe it.  I’d lost too much in my life.  I felt a stab of envy for Ayesha and Zeya McDonald.  At least they didn't spend half their lives feuding with their sisters ...

... And then I heard someone cry out in pain.

Chapter Twenty-Three

I hesitated, just for a moment.  Someone was in trouble, but who?  And did I want to get into more trouble myself by trying to help?  Being alone wasn't wise, not now.  The normal rules seemed to have flown straight into the dustbin.  And yet ... I heard another cry of pain and outrage, a strikingly familiar cry.  Ice ran down my spine.  It was Alana.  It had to be Alana.

A multitude of thoughts ran through my head.  I could just turn and walk away.  I could ... I sighed and slipped forward, moving as quietly as a mouse.  I’d plenty of experience sneaking around the hall, after all.  The sound grew louder as I reached the corner and peeped around, ready to yank my head back in a flash.  But no one noticed me.  They were focused on Alana.

I stared, torn between horror and an odd kind of grim satisfaction.  Alana floated in the air, upside down; one hand desperately holding her skirt in place even as she tried to use the other to cast a counterspell.  There were four older students surrounding her, three girls and a boy; one of the girls was pointing a focusing device at Alana, holding her bobbling helplessly in the air.  Another made snatching motions at her braids, threatening to grab hold and pull them down.  The other two laughed and jeered.  I felt sick, flashing back to the times when Alana had levitated me into the air.  She hadn't known it, but she could have easily killed me when the spell lost power and I fell.

Alana was terrified.  She was so scared she wasn't even trying to hide it.  I didn't blame her, either.  I didn't recognise the four students, but the fine cut of their uniforms indicated they were aristocrats.  Alana might be years ahead of Rose in magical training, yet ... the upperclassmen outmatched her effortlessly.  And there were four of them.  It wouldn't be long before they got bored, turned her into something unnoticeable, and just walked away.

I didn't know what to do.  No one had seen me.  I could just turn around and go.  Alana deserved a taste of her own medicine, didn't she?  She’d been horrible to me ever since it became clear I had no magic, piling humiliation after humiliation on me and threatening more when she succeeded Dad as Matriarch.  And yet ... her whimpering chilled me more than I cared to admit.  Four upperclassmen against one lowly lowerclassman was very far from fair.

And what she did to you wasn't fair either, a voice whispered at the back of my head.  Why not let her see what it feels like from the inside?

I couldn't move.  I wanted to go, I wanted to help ... I wasn't sure what I felt.  They were bullying her ... the entire school would hear about it, soon enough.  And then Alana’s reputation would plunge until it was lower than Isabella’s.  And then ... normally, the upperclassmen would be in serious trouble for picking on a lowerclassman.  The Castellan would expel them on the spot.  But now ...

Part of me wanted her to suffer.  But the rest of me wanted to step forward and help.

I struggled with my conscience, trying to decide what to do.  If it had been Rose or Akin, I would have walked forward without hesitation.  I might even have risked public humiliation - or worse - for Bella.  But for Alana ... I looked down at the stone floor, not liking what I saw in myself.  She’d been horrible to me, but that didn't mean I should take pleasure in her suffering ... did it?

No, I told myself, firmly.  Me making Alana pay for years of torment was one thing.  I had every intention of turning the tables on her, every time she tried to hex me.  But I wasn't going to let someone else do it.  And besides, it won’t help the family.

I sighed, inwardly.  Dad had told me that his schooldays had followed him for the rest of his life.  I hadn't understood, not until now.  Everyone who was anyone went to Jude’s.  By the time we graduated, we’d know everyone in our generation and probably everyone two or three years older than us.  People would be talking about Alana’s humiliation for the rest of her life, the story growing in the telling.  She didn't deserve that, did she?

Yes, part of me said.  She does deserve it.

But the rest of me disagreed.  I looked down at my shaking fingers, wishing I hadn't learned that about myself.  There was a bit of me that wanted to humiliate my sister - or to watch others humiliate her - but I didn't want to let it loose.  I couldn't let it loose.  Alana yelped in pain as one of the girls hit her with a stinging hex, slamming it right into her leg.  Another stuck her arm, dispelling the magic she’d been trying to muster.  I wondered, absently, just what she was thinking.  If she dispelled the levitation spell, she’d fall and hit her head.

And that thought decided me.  I drew the dispeller and spellcaster from my belt and, holding one in each hand, walked around the corner.  I held my head up high, trying to project the same calm confidence that Mum and Dad strove to project in public gatherings.  They were my social inferiors, not my superiors.  I had to keep telling myself that, time and time again.  I dared not show fear ...

“Put her down,” I ordered.  “Gently.”

The girl who was casting the levitation spell turned to look at me.  I didn't recognise her, but the long beaky nose and chocolate skin marked her as belonging to House Wakefield.  My heart sank as she eyed me silently, her dark eyes lingering on my spellcaster for a long moment.  House Wakefield was a close ally of House Rubén.    And her hair was hanging down, indicating she’d already had her Season.  She wasn’t going to let me intimidate them so easily.

She smiled, cruelly.  “Well,” she said.  “It looks like we caught both of you.”

Her hand snapped down.  A stinging hex blossomed out of her fingertips and flashed towards me.  I held the spellcaster and dispeller aside, allowing the spell to strike me in the chest and break apart into a shower of multicoloured sparks.  Their eyes went wide as they realised their spells wouldn't affect me.  I hoped it would be enough to make them think twice.

“Put her down,” I repeated.  “Now.”

The boy jabbed a finger at me.  A translucent spell danced through the air.  I didn't recognise it - I kicked myself, mentally, for not putting on the spectacles before letting them see me - so I held up the dispeller, breaking the spell apart and absorbing the magic before it could test my protections still further.  A tingle ran down my fingertips, a droll reminder that the spell had been very powerful indeed.  A Device of Power would have shattered if it had tried to dispel so much concentrated power.

I pointed the spellcaster at the girl.  “Now.”

The girl shrugged and snapped her fingers.  Alana fell, her mouth opening in a silent scream before she jerked to a halt, an inch about the ground.  She put out her hand, just in time to land roughly on the floor.  A spell struck her a second later, pinning her hand and feet to the stone.  She could barely move.  I doubted she could muster the slightest spell.

“Happy now?”  The girl’s voice mocked me.  “Would you like to know what we can do to you?”

I tensed.  Sandy had shown one way to get around my protections.  Someone else could do the same ... or merely collapse the roof onto my head.  I didn't think they’d go so far, but they’d already crossed the line.  I couldn't see House Rubén being that pleased with their conduct.  Their Heir Primus was a firstie too.

“Your spells can't touch me,” I said, evenly.  Sweat ran down my back.  It was hard, so hard, to keep my voice from shaking.  “I have protections.”

“There’s four of us,” the girl said.  She glanced at her friends.  The boy looked ready to fight, but the other two girls seemed a little more hesitant.  “All we have to do is jump you.”

That was unfortunately true.  I refused to show my sudden fear on my face.

I met her eyes as I held up the spellcaster.  “Do you know what this is?”

Doubt flickered on her face, just for a second.  “An Object of Power.”

“An Object of Power that happens to be a spellcaster,” I told her.  “A Frogmaker, to be precise.”

She froze.  She’d heard of Frogmaker, of course.  Everyone had.  It was a legendary Object of Power that turned its victims into frogs, permanently.  No magician could make a transfiguration spell last forever, not without a Device of Power, and even then the spell could be undone.  But Frogmaker?  Its victims stayed frogs, no matter what spells and counterspells were cast.  I had the feeling that nothing, short of stripping the magic out of the air, would be enough to return them to humanity.  I was used to being transformed without warning, thanks to my sisters, but Frogmaker scared even me.  The idea of never being human again ...

The girl found her voice.  “You couldn't have made a Frogmaker.”

I rolled my eyes.  “The plans are available in the workroom,” I said, in my best “you are stupid” voice.  That was actually true.  “And it really isn't a very complicated device.  You just have to be a Zero to forge it.  Why would I not?”

The four exchanged glances.  They weren't quite convinced, I saw, but they were uncertain of themselves.  I could practically read their thoughts.  They were trying to decide if they could jump me before I triggered the spellcaster ... and yet, they didn’t know what would happen if they laid a finger on me.  There were Objects of Power that were designed to do more than just passively absorb magic.  They might be blasted across the room or turned into toads just for touching me.

I pointed the spellcaster at the girl.  “I’d bet I can get at least two of you before you jump me,” I told her.  “And the remaining two will not be able to take off my protections before I get them too.”

“You might also get your sister,” the girl pointed out.  Her voice was so even I knew she was keeping it under tight control.  “Do you want to be responsible for that?”

I made a motion with the spellcaster.  “I’ll live.”

There was a long pause, then the four slowly backed away.  They tried to move slowly, but I heard them break into a run as soon as they were around the corner.  I laughed, feeling suddenly weak at the knees.  I’d been bluffing.  The spellcaster would turn them into frogs, but the spell wouldn't have been permanent.  I’d judged Frogmaker too dangerous to duplicate when there was a possibility of someone else being able to use it.

Idiots, I thought.  If they had jumped me ...

Alana gasped.  She was trying to cancel the spells holding her to the floor.  I watched for a second, then knelt down and tapped the dispeller against the spells.  They came apart in a shower of light, allowing her to sit back on her haunches.  I caught a glimpse of a nasty mark on her leg before she smoothed down her skirt.  Her arm was moving slowly, as if she was in pain.  I thought she’d been hexed there too.

“Cat,” Alana managed.  Her voice was raspy.  I wondered if she’d been screaming earlier.  “I ... is that a real Frogmaker?”

“It turns people into frogs,” I told her.  Perhaps she wouldn't do anything stupid if she thought I could turn her into a frog permanently.  Frogmaker was supposed to be able to blast through seven layers of personal protective wards.  But then, I’d never heard of a magician who had more than one or two layers.  At some point, the wards would make it impossible for him to cast spells himself.  “Are you ... all right?”

Alana glanced at me, then drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them.  I watched her, warily.  She looked ... older, somehow.  There was a bruise on her face too.  I didn't think it was from our earlier fight.  No, they’d jumped her and overpowered her and ... I had to fight to keep from throwing up.  They wouldn't have let her go in a hurry, not after they’d crossed the line.  Maybe they’d planned to take her down into the disused parts of the school and hide her there.  Magister Von Rupert had told me there were dozens of little hidey-holes that belonged to older students hidden there.  The staff turned a blind eye as long as the students were careful.

And they could have kept the spell in place indefinitely, I thought.  And with the wards falling apart, we might not have been able to find her.

“I shouldn't have been alone,” Alana said.  “I was ... I was tricked.”

I tried to send her a reassuring look.  “What happened?”

“None of your business,” Alana said.  “I ...”

“I just saved your life,” I snapped at her.  “Or do you think they were just going to give you lines when they tired of tormenting you?”

Alana’s dark eyes flashed.  “I’m the Heir Primus,” she said.  “You have to do what I say!”

I snorted.  “Since when?”

“Since Dad put me in charge,” Alana said.  She tried to stand, but her legs refused to support her.  “I’m the Heir Primus.”

“Only by chance,” I said.  I shook my head in disbelief.  I understood the shame of admitting that you needed help, that you needed someone to rescue you, but ... I supposed I shouldn't have been too surprised.  Ingratitude was practically Alana’s middle name.  “If Bella had come out first, she’d be Heir Primus.”

“Bella doesn't want to be Heir Primus,” Alana said.  She tried to stand, again.  This time, she succeeded.  “And that leaves me in charge.”

And you don’t count me because I have no magic, I thought.  I looked down at the spellcaster, still resting in my hand.  Didn't it occur to you that I could do other things?

I shook my head as I stood.  My talents required a forge, a supply of materials and freedom to work.  Fairuza had proved just how easy it was to keep me under control, although she’d been unable to monitor me closely enough to prevent an escape.  But if someone didn't want to use my talents for themselves, they could just lock me in a prison cell or chain me to the walls.  I’d have no hope of escape.

Alana turned and started to limp down the corridor.  I hesitated, then called after her.

“You need to go see the healer,” I told her.  “You’re not in a good state.”

“I can't show weakness,” Alana said.  It would have been more impressive if I hadn't seen her grit her teeth against the pain.  “If I don't go to class, everyone will know I was attacked.”

I wasn't so sure.  Alana might be Aguirre Heir Primus, but even so ... very few upperclassmen would care to gloat about attacking a firstie.  The current chaos would end eventually, wouldn't it?  And then there would be punishment.  And ... even if the chaos never ended, or House Aguirre crashed into rubble, the upperclassmen would still have to live with the shame of being scared off by another mere firstie.  I didn't think they’d want to tell that story.

But I knew Alana would never accept that argument.  She was too conceited to see herself as a mere anything.  And she was, at least in her own mind, Heir Primus and the most accomplished spellcaster of her generation.  She was too significant to see herself as a little girl.

“They could have worked an advanced hex into the spells they used on you,” I reminded her, instead.  “Something you’d miss, at first.  Something that would slowly spread through your magic, turning it against you.  You need to go to the infirmary, now.”

Alana stopped.  “Fine,” she said, after a moment.  “But you go to class.”

My stomach rumbled.  “I’d better get something to eat first,” I said.  If she didn't want an escort, she didn't have to have one.  I understood, better than I cared to admit.  “And ...”

I hesitated, then unclasped the earring from my ear and held it out to her.  “You won’t be able to cast spells while wearing it, but it will protect you,” I said.  Alana had had her ears pierced after she’d whined and moaned about me wearing earrings.  Mum had not been pleased, but she’d conceded the point.  “If someone else hexes you ...”

Her eyes went wide with shock.  “But ... what about you?”

“I have another,” I reminded her, dryly.  I’d hidden two more protective Objects of Power around my person.  Had she forgotten that already?  “Wear it.  It’ll keep you safe.”

Alana stared at me for a long moment, as if she’d never seen me before.  I looked back at her, wondering if I’d made a mistake.  Would it have been better to let them humiliate her?  Teach her a lesson about what it meant to be powerless?  She deserved it, didn't she?  But I knew I couldn’t have lived with myself if it went too far.

It did go too far, I thought, as I watched her limping away.  And it would have gone further if I hadn't been there.

Somehow, the thought wasn't much of a consolation.

Chapter Twenty-Four

“Am I boring you, young lady?”

I flinched.  Magister Niven was standing right in front of my desk, his face so close to mine that I wanted to lean backwards.  The class tittered as I forced myself to look at him.  I’d been so lost in my thoughts that I’d completely lost track of his lecture.  I hadn't even noticed him stalking towards me.

“... No, sir,” I managed.

“Oh, goody,” Magister Niven said.  He was more easy-going than many of the other teachers, but it was clear he had his limits.  “Perhaps you could tell me precisely why Tumble’s Guide to Spellcasting was replaced by Marat’s Book of Modern Charms?”

I tried to think, but nothing came to mind.  I’d known that one book had been replaced by the other, but ... I couldn't remember why.  He’d probably just told everyone.  But I hadn't been paying attention.

“No, sir,” I said, again.

“I see,” Magister Niven said.  “Remain behind, after class.”

He turned and strode to the front of the room.  I looked down at my desk, trying not to look too embarrassed, as he resumed.  “The problems with Tumble’s work were clear from the start, as there were issues with using and scaling up the spells he crafted.  However, it was not until Marat returned to first principles - which Tumble had attempted to outline - that the flaws in Tumble’s foundations became apparent.  He had failed to account for a number of factors, which threw his spellcasting right off.”

I forced myself to listen as the lecture continued.  It would have been interesting under other circumstances - I was living proof that some of our assumptions about magic were faulty - but it was hard to pay attention.  Alana hadn't returned to classes, which meant ... what?  I was torn between being pleased she hadn't rejoined us and worried about what it might mean for her.  The upperclassmen might have managed to curse her before I stopped them.

“Read chapters one to five of Tumble’s Guide to Spellcasting for homework and try to pinpoint the flaw in his foundations,” Magister Niven concluded.  The class tried not to groan.  Five chapters!  The tutors were piling homework on us, perhaps trying to keep us too busy to fight.  “I want a full discussion of his mistakes and flawed assumptions by the time we meet next week.”

He paused.  “Cat, remain behind.  Class, dismissed.”

I shrank into my seat as the remainder of the class headed for the door.  Rose shot me a sympathetic look, hinting that she might wait outside for me.  I’d barely had time to tell her the bare bones of what had happened at lunch before we’d had to race for class.  I was still so conflicted that I wasn't sure what else I wanted to tell her.  My thoughts kept mocking me, insisting that I should have let Alana suffer.  It would have taught her a lesson.

Magister Niven sat down in front of me.  He was wearing a pink summer dress, of all things; I wasn’t sure if I should giggle at the mere sight of him or be revolted.  Boys were not allowed to wear girlish clothes and vice versa.  Even trousers were dubious, according to the grand dames.  Mum wouldn't have let us wear trousers at all if we hadn't needed to wear something a little more practical than dresses when we worked in the gardens.

His voice was gentle.  “Is something the matter?”

I hesitated.  Yes, something was the matter.  And yes, I wanted to talk about it.  But who could I trust?  Everyone I knew would seek to take advantage if I told them the truth ... I wasn't even sure they’d be wrong.  And yet, the prospect of accidentally encouraging the Great Houses to make more and more use of magic didn't sit well with me.  What if the magic could run out?

“You can talk to me, if you wish,” Magister Niven said.  “Or we can discuss your appalling lack of attention in class?”

Ouch, I thought.  I’d be writing lines until my hands fell off.  Or sitting in the stocks, having pieces of food or stinging hexes thrown at me.  I didn't think the Castellan would put a firstie in the stocks, but I hadn't thought that upperclassmen would attack a firstie either.  Old certainties were falling everywhere.  What do I do?

I forced myself to look at him.  He wore make-up, but dabbled on so intensely that he looked like a bad parody of a girl dressed for a garden party.  There was a fine line, Mum had told me, between touching up one’s looks and going overboard and he’d crossed it.  But then, he’d crossed quite a few lines already.  Mum had never let my sisters and I wear make-up in public.  We were too young.

“I want to talk,” I said.  “But ... can I ask for your sworn oath never to tell anyone?  Without my permission, I mean?”

His eyes narrowed, sharply.  Asking for someone’s oath was a breach of etiquette.  And ... I had no way of knowing if he could swear an oath with me.  I’d been told never to even think of swearing an oath unless the situation was dire, but ... I had no magic.  Would an oath bind me as strongly as it bound magicians?  I didn’t know.

“You drive a hard bargain,” he said.  I wondered just what he was thinking.  It was hard to read his face behind the layers of make-up.  Did he think I had some typical teenage problem that would make an adult laugh?  “I will swear the oath, on the condition that you actually listen to my advice.”

I tried to keep my face expressionless too.  Oaths couldn't be broken, but they could be cheated.  Magister Niven was clever.  He might find a way to spread the word, without triggering the oath.  And yet ... I needed to talk to someone.  Who better than the man who questioned everything?

“Agreed,” I said.

We haggled over the precise wording of the oath for a few minutes, then he swore.  A faint shimmer of light enveloped him, just for a second.  I hoped that was enough.  A magician might be able to sense someone oathbound, but I couldn’t.  If he had figured out a way to cheat me ...

“It’s what I discovered in the Eternal City,” I said.  “The assumption none of us thought to question.”

Magister Niven studied me for a long moment.  “Start from the beginning,” he said.  “And then carry on until you reach the end.”

I sucked in my breath and began, outlining everything that had happened from the moment we’d been kidnapped to our rescue by the Kingsmen.  I told him about the Objects of Power I’d forged, about the weird feelings I’d had near the Eternal City and, finally, I told him about Tyros and the magic field.  His mouth fell open when I explained that there were no real magicians, certainly none with any inherent power.  They all absorbed and stored magic from the magic field.

“So that’s where the power comes from,” Magister Niven said, slowly.  “Have you found a way to measure the field?”

“Not yet,” I told him.  I wasn’t going to discuss the Whirlpool with him.  “I can't figure out how to track the magic.”

“That’s something you’ll have to work on,” Magister Niven said.  “If the magic isn't inherent to us” - he looked down at his scarred hands - “then ... it must change, somehow, when we absorb it into our bodies.  And that’s why magicians can't produce Objects of Power.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.  I’d already worked that out.  “Even when a forger isn't trying to infuse magic into his work, the magic seeps into the spellform and slowly wears it down.  A complex spellform might go badly wrong from the start.”

“That explains why it did seem possible to forge Objects of Power,” Magister Niven said.  He laughed, humourlessly.  “Magicians got some results, didn't they?  They thought it was a sign they had to try harder.”

I met his eyes.  “What if the magic goes away?”

Magister Niven looked back at me, thoughtfully.  “Is there any sign we’re draining the field completely?”

“No, sir,” I said.  “But if the overall magic level is slowly going down ...”

“Then we might not have to worry about it for thousands of years to come,” Magister Niven said.  I thought he was trying to be reassuring.  “But if the magic did suddenly go away ... it would be bad.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.  I’d already considered the possibilities.  “Civilisation would collapse.”

“We’d certainly have to learn to live without magic,” Magister Niven agreed.  He looked curious. “Was that bad for you?”

“Yes,” I said.  “But I was the only one without magic.  A whole society without magic ... it would be different.”

“Then our first priority is figuring out a way to measure the magic field,” Magister Niven told me, reassuringly.  “It’s possible to measure a person’s magic potential, Cat.  It should be possible to measure the field itself.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

“On the other hand, the magic might simply flow back into its natural form,” Magister Niven said.  “We know that spells bleed magic, over time.  That’s why they don’t last.  The raw power might simply be returning to its natural state, shedding our controls along the way.”

“And then waiting for us to absorb it again,” I said.  It sounded believable.  But then, I wanted to believe it.  “Or there may be ... ah ... something comparable to plants sucking in carbon dioxide and producing oxygen.”

“There might be,” Magister Niven agreed.  “Dragons and other creatures use magic to fly.”

He paused.  “Have you ever been to the Desolation?”

I shook my head, resisting the urge to point out that it was a stupid question.  Mum and Dad had never taken me out of the country, let alone to one of the most dangerous places on the planet.  The barren mountains that dominated the lands between Maxima and Hangchow were inhabited by dragons - and other, even nastier, creatures - and ravaged by magic storms that posed a threat to anyone brave or stupid enough to enter.  Huntsmen might go hunting for dragons in the northern wastes, but very few of them returned.  And some of those who did were changed in ways no magic could undo.

“I’ve been along the edges,” Magister Niven said.  “I felt the raw magic in the air.  It was like walking through a thunderstorm.  No one lives there ... now tell me.  Is the raw magic there so much more powerful because no one tries to use it?  Or because the magic level there is so much higher than Maxima?”

“I ... I don’t know,” I said.  “Are there no lost civilisations within the Desolation?”

Magister Niven shrugged.  “There are stories,” he said.  “Places within the Desolation that are safe, I believe, or hidden communities on the other side of Maxima that are functionally inaccessible.  Very few people can get a ship around the North Pole, Cat, and hardly anyone will try to cross the Desolation.  There are easier ways to commit suicide.”

I felt my heart sink.  “So we have been draining the magic field.”

“Maybe,” Magister Niven said.  “Or maybe we’ve been taming it.”

He met my eyes.  “We will figure this out,” he added, calmly.  “But here’s another question for you.  Do you think your ... talents ... will breed true?”

I looked at my hands.  I hated to admit it, but my apparent lack of magic had blighted any hopes of arranging good marriages for my sisters.  Alana had been right to protest.  But now ... I had no way to know if my children would be Zeroes too.  I could easily see the Great Houses trying to arrange my marriage in hopes of breeding more Zeroes, but ... there was no way to know what would happen.

“Dragons and suchlike evolved to use magic,” Magister Niven said.  “They developed the ability to draw on the magic field to fly.  And if you’re right, so did we.  Except ... does that make you a throwback?  A remnant of an age where we couldn't use magic?”

“A freak,” I muttered, feeling a stab of the old pain.  Alana had called me that often enough, once she’d become convinced I had no spark of magic.  “Didn't we always have magic?”

“The Thousand-Year Empire was the first civilisation - the first known civilisation - to codify the laws of magic,” Magister Niven reminded me.  “Before then, who knows?”

I thought back to the old tales, the ones that existed as nothing more than broken tablets and incomplete manuscripts, many of which referred to documents that had been lost somewhere over the last thousand years.  There had been magic, but ... magic had been a hindrance as well as a help.  I wondered just what it meant to live in a society where no one really understood magic.  A powerful magic-user like Rose might be a threat ... no, would be a threat.  I dreaded to think what someone like Alana would have done if she was the only person who had magic.

“We teach children to flex their magic from infancy,” Magister Niven said.  “It helps them to channel power as they grow older.  But back then, it would have been actively dangerous to encourage magic.  The parents might have exposed their children as soon as they showed the first signs of power.”

Exposed, I thought.  It was a custom that had thankfully died with the Thousand-Year Empire.  Left outside to die, you mean.

I pushed the thought aside.  “You mean I might be the only Zero of my generation?”

“It’s a possibility,” Magister Niven agreed.  “But it’s equally possible that there are common-born Zeroes who have no idea what they are.”

I said that, I thought.  And Dad is looking now.

Magister Niven sat back and took a long breath.  “You really do have something to worry about,” he said.  “Forget the detention, I think.  Although ... if you do want something to do, I do have some old documents that need sorted.”

I looked up, interested.  “How old?”

“Only a couple of hundred years or so,” Magister Niven told me.  “I’d understand if you didn't want to do it.”

“No, thank you,” I said.  “Is ... is there any point in reading them?”

“You might be surprised,” Magister Niven said.  He pointed a finger at my chest.  “You, of all people, ought to be aware that what we take for granted isn't always so.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And quite a few of the older researchers devised experiments they were unable to carry out,” Magister Niven added.  “It’s sometimes worth revisiting them now, with our greater understanding, and seeing if we can make something of them.”

“Like I’ve been looking at some of the old designs for Objects of Power,” I said.  I could see a few ways to improve on what the ancients had done, given how hard our society had worked to rediscover the laws of magic.  I’d have to diagram a few ideas out first ... I wondered, suddenly, if Magister Niven would be prepared to help me.  “Sir ... what are you going to do now?”

“Think about what you told me,” Magister Niven said.  “And what it might mean if the magic really did start to go away.”

He stood.  “Thank you for telling me, Cat.  And we will discuss it some more later, once I’ve had a think and checked a few old books.  There are passages that may make more sense now.”

“Yes, sir.”

I rose and turned towards the door, then stopped.  He was still talking.

“And yet, there are dangers here too,” he said, carefully.  His voice became contemplative.  “Like you said, it might have been sheer luck that the entire magical field wasn’t drained.  What would have happened then?”

I shivered.  “Nothing good, sir.”

“Good and bad,” Magister Niven said.  “It would certainly be different.  And static.”

“Sir?” I turned back to face him.  “What do you mean?”

“There are quite a few ... devices used by commoners that don’t involve magic,” Magister Niven said.  “Waterwheels and water mills, windmills, wheelbarrows ... harbour cranes and even sails and rudders ... there’s no magic in them.  But they’re also very limited.  You can't scale a water mill up too high and there are limits to what you can do with a windmill beyond grinding corn.  Society would be unable to progress beyond those limits.  And ... well ...

“I’m stronger than you.  That is a physical fact.  But commoners are often physically stronger than aristocrats and magicians.  If there was no magic, the strongest would rule.”

“The strongest in magic do rule,” I said.  I loved my father, but I had to admit that he would never have become Patriarch if he hadn't been so puissant.  There’d never been any hope of me being declared Heir Primus.  “That is also a fact.”

Magister Niven didn't show any sign of annoyance.  “The strongest in magic are the ones who work at it,” he said.  “They not only learn to develop their power, they learn how to make best use of it ... and how to adapt it.  They’re often very intelligent as well as magically powerful.  But a man with nothing more than raw physical strength is rarely quite as intelligent as a magician.  He often tends to settle arguments with his fists than reason his way around the problem.  He certainly never tries to see the other person’s side of the argument.  And women?  Women are rarely strong enough to impose their will by force, not without magic.”

I swallowed as the implications dawned on me.

“Rule by the strong implies rule by the idiotic,” Magister Niven said.  His voice was very quiet, but it still chilled me to the bone.  “And if the magic goes away, civilisation will fall into their hands.”

Chapter Twenty-Five

“What’s it like on the farm?”  I asked Rose, that evening.  We were sitting in the library, eying our mountain of homework with dismay.  “I mean ... as a girl.”

Rose gave me an odd look.  “Hard,” she said.  “You saw the farm near the Eternal City, remember?  We barely did a fraction of the work the inhabitants did.”

“I remember,” I said.  I’d spent a lot of time forging, but still ... the inhabitants had looked old, beaten down by time.  Even the kids my age had looked a few years older.  “I wouldn't want to live there.”

“It has its advantages,” Rose said.  “But also its disadvantages.”

She reached for a book, then stopped herself.  “What brought that on?”

“Long story,” I said.  I couldn't tell her the truth.  “Do you think if I ran away, a farm would take me in?”

“You’d be noticeable if you went more than a hundred or so miles into the interior,” Rose pointed out.  “And if you stayed close to Shallot you’d be noticeable anyway.”

“I suppose,” I said.  I looked around the study room, hoping to see something - anything - that would distract me from my homework.  “If we were to go ...”

There was a knock on the door.  I winced.  It was probably a set of upperclassmen, ready to kick us out and take the study room for themselves.  Their mocks were coming up too and they had to study.  Ours were far less serious ... not that that would stop Mum and Dad asking pointed questions if we failed.  I tensed as the door opened, then relaxed - slightly - as Bella stepped into the room, dragging Alana behind her.  My sister didn't look pleased, but she wasn't trying to resist.  I felt a flicker of panic.  Just how badly had her magic been drained?

“Alana has something she wants to say to you, Cat,” Bella said.  She pushed Alana towards a chair, then glanced at Rose.  “Can you give them some privacy?”

Rose looked at me.  “Cat ...?”

I shrugged.  Alana looked ... a little subdued.  Normally, she would have hexed Bella - or anyone - rather than let Bella drag her around by the arm.  And yet ... I studied her for a long moment.  The bruises were gone, and she was no longer limping, but there was a haunted look in her eyes.  She’d come far too close to complete disaster and she knew it.

“I should be fine,” I said, shooting her a smile.  It was a relief to know that Rose had been prepared to stay with me, even if it meant pitting herself against both Alana and Bella.  She was a good friend.  “If you want to look up a couple of copies of Tumble’s Guide to Spellcasting ...?”

“I can try,” Rose said.

“They’ll be in the archive,” Bella said.  “I’ll help you.”

I watched Rose and Bella leave, then looked at Alana.  She was clenching her right hand so tightly that her skin was starting to darken.  Her face was expressionless, yet her stance ... I wasn't sure if she was really beaten down or just trying to fake it.  She hadn't looked so bad after Mum had grounded her for a month for casting cruel spells on me.

Alana lifted her fist and held it over the table, then uncurled it gingerly.  The earring I’d given her fell out of her palm and landed on the wood.  I blinked in surprise, then reached for the earring and picked it up.  The gemstone was still glowing, faintly.  Alana hadn't broken it, then.  I was surprised to discover that I’d never expected to see the earring again.

“Thank you,” Alana said, quietly.  “That ... was helpful.”

“I thought it might be,” I said, suddenly unsure what to say.  I knew Alana and Bella, but now ... it felt as if my sisters had been replaced by strangers.  “Did the healer check for curses?”

“She said there shouldn't be any long-term effects,” Alana said.  She sounded relieved.  It took me a moment to realise that she wasn't just relieved about the absence of curses.  “I’m still a little sore, but I should be better tomorrow.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” I said.  “Did you tattle?”

Alana looked surprised.  “Of course not.”

I rolled my eyes at her.  If Isabella had hexed her - or one of the other firsties - I would have understood completely.  Better to plot revenge at a later date than get a reputation for being a sneak.  But upperclassmen ... they were so far above her that revenge was hopeless.  Unless Alana managed to point Robin in their direction ... I supposed she could do that, if she wished.  But it wouldn't be her revenge.

“Fine,” I said.  I looked down at my books, then up at her.  “What do you want?”

“I ... I’m sorry,” Alana said.  “I’ve been a little ...”

I tried not to smile.  “Stregheria?”

“Yes,” Alana said.  “I could have been a little Stregheria.”

We shared an odd little laugh.  “Bella said I was lucky you came to my rescue,” Alana said, when she’d finished giggling.  “I think she was right.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“She also said I should apologise,” Alana added.  “I’ve been a little Stregheria to you.”

I felt a hot flash of anger.  “Yes, you have.  Do you remember how you felt, hanging in the air?  That’s how I felt all the time!”

Alana recoiled, slightly.  “I ... I didn't know,” she said.  “I ...”

“Spare me your excuses,” I growled.  “You were an unpleasant little brat from the moment you realised I didn't have any magic.  And the only reason you’re trying to apologise now is that I saved you from public humiliation!”

“I thought that you needed to be somewhere else,” Alana said.  “And I was wrong.”

I glared at her.  “Is that meant to make me feel better?”

“I was wrong,” Alana repeated.  “And I’m sorry!”

“How nice,” I said.  I wanted to shout at her.  It was all I could do to keep my voice even.  “Do you have enough magic to change the past?  To go back in time and give your past self a kick up the backside?  Or even just to tell me about my talents before I spent five years thinking I was useless?”

“I ...”

I grabbed the spellcaster and held it up.  “You told me that your very first act as Matriarch would be to turn me into a frog permanently, then go around telling everyone that you only ever had one sister,” I reminded her.  “Do you think that sorry is enough to make up for it?”

Alana flinched.  “I was wrong!”

“Yes,” I said.  “And perhaps I was wrong not to let that ... that Wakefield girl teach you a lesson!”

“No,” Alana said.  “You did the right thing.”

I pointed the spellcaster at her.  “Get out!”

Alana held up her hands, spreading her fingers wide to show me she wasn't trying to cast a hex.  “Dad said we should try to get along better,” she said.  “And I’m trying ...”

“Very trying,” I agreed, dryly.

I felt ... I wasn't sure how I felt.  How dare she come along and assume that a simple apology would be enough to make it all better!  The only thing she could have done to make me happy would be to go away.  And yet, part of me wanted to be friends with my sisters.  I’d made up with Bella.  Could I not make up with Alana?

“You were practicing your hexes on me from the moment you learnt to cast them,” I reminded her.  “And you told me that I didn't belong in the family!”

“I know what I did,” Alana said.  Her face twisted.  “I ...”

“Then you also know why it’s hard for me to accept your apology,” I snapped.  “Why should I accept your apology?”

Alana stood.  “I won’t be ... unpleasant to you any longer,” she said.  “And I’m sorry.”

She turned and walked towards the door, holding her back ramrod straight.  It dawned on me that she expected me to hex her in the back ... a more serious threat than a normal hex, perhaps, because of what I’d told the upperclassmen my spellcaster could do.  I felt my fingers itching, demanding to jab the spellcaster at her ... I pushed the urge aside, watching as she opened the door and walked outside.  I sagged back into my chair as soon as she closed the door behind her, suddenly feeling very tired.  It had been a very long day.

The door opened, again.  Rose stepped into the room.

“Alana didn't look happy,” she said, once she’d closed the door.  “What happened?”

“She tried to apologise to me,” I told her.  “For everything.”

Rose sat down, smoothing her long skirt.  “And you said no?”

“I told her that an apology wasn't enough to make up for everything she’d done,” I said, looking towards the closed door.  I was half-expecting Bella to drag Alana into the room again.  The old Bella wouldn't have done anything of the sort, but the new Bella was unpredictable.  “And ... I don't know what to make of it.”

I choked back a sob.  I’d wanted to be friends with my sisters.  Of course I’d wanted to be friends with my sisters.  But the handful of moments when we'd been sisters in truth, as well as in name, had been few and far between and eventually stopped altogether.  It was too late to repair the damage.

Rose reached out and touched my hand, lightly.  “Do you want some advice?”

My eyes opened wide.  Very few people would give someone familial advice, certainly not to someone who wasn't part of their family.  No matter how close they were ... it just wasn't done!  Rose had committed a severe breach of etiquette, one I’d have to warn her about later ...

... But I found it hard to care.  I’d never liked etiquette lessons.  And it wasn't as if I’d ever get the chance to use most of those wretched lessons anyway.

“Sure,” I said.  “What do you have to say?”

Rose took a breath.  “You and Alana are family, whether you like it or not,” she said.  “You even look somewhat alike.”

I had to laugh.  “I have never been so insulted in all my life.”

“I find that hard to imagine,” Rose said, primly.  The effect was spoiled when she started to giggle.  “My point is that the two of you are sisters, bound together by blood.  You’re not going to be able to get rid of her and she’s not going to be able to get rid of you.”

“How true,” I said, sourly.

Rose squeezed my hand.  “My point, Cat, is that it’s probably a good time to mend your relationship.”

“You think that too?”  I asked.  Bella probably wanted Alana and I to get along too.  “And after everything she’s done?”

Rose met my eyes.  “Cat ... last year, you were a powerless Zero,” she said.  “You didn't have any power at all.  Now ... everyone knows your talents and accepts them.”

“They want to make use of them,” I reminded her.

“You have an acceptance now you didn't have last year,” Rose said.  “You are no longer a powerless freak--” I flinched “--but a respected person in your own right.  I’d say you’re more important to your family, to everyone, than either of your sisters.  You and Alana are practically equals now.  Why not try to mend fences now?”

“Strong fences make good neighbours,” I muttered.  It was one of Dad’s more cynical observations.  “She’s a little brat.”

“A brat who’s going to be part of your family for a very long time to come,” Rose said, dryly.  “How long do members of your family live?”

I shrugged.  Great Aunt Stregheria was in her second century and she wasn't the only one, although Great-Granddad Archie was practically senile.  He’d called me by my mother’s name, the last time I’d met, winking and nodding about some appalling crime my mother had committed as a young girl.  I had the distant feeling that he had been something of a trial to his daughter, my grandma, even before his mind had started to slip.  But - I dragged my mind back to the subject at hand with an effort - I might have to put up with Alana for a century or so myself.

Unless I don’t have such a long lifespan, I thought.  The stronger the magician, the longer the life.  It was a rule, although no one really understood how and why it worked.  But I had no power at all.  I might not live any longer than the average commoner.

“A long time,” I said, instead.  “I’ve got relatives who are over a hundred years old.”

A shadow crossed Rose’s face, just for a second.  “Then you and Alana will be sisters for another eighty-eight years, at least,” she said.  There was something in her voice that bothered me.  “Do you really want to spend those years feuding like ... like twelve-year-old girls?”

I frowned.  “I ...”

Rose met my eyes.  “How many of the stupid feuds tearing the city apart exist because the people on one side or the other were too dumb or stubborn to reach out to their rivals?”

“It isn't like that,” I protested.

“It might be,” Rose said.  “Ten years from now ... you’ll have kids.  So will she.  Twenty-two years from now, those kids will be feuding because their mothers hate each other.  And then their kids will be feuding too.  And then their grandkids ...”

“You’ve made your point,” I growled.  “But ... what should we do?”

I looked down at the floor.  “How would your community handle this?”

“My father would have boxed our ears by now, if I’d started a feud with my brother,” Rose told me.  “There just isn't room in the community for a long-term feud.  Everyone has to work together.  Adults who can't stand each other know that, Cat.  And the handful who don’t are often told to behave or get out.  No one is greater than the community.”

It sounded like a mantra.  I raised my eyebrows.

“Everyone gets together to discuss matters that affect us all; everyone gets to talk and say their piece,” Rose said.  “And afterwards, we take a vote.  And everyone abides by the community’s decision.”

It didn't sound very sensible to me.  “And what happens when the community votes to share out your property?”

Rose laughed.  “What property?”

The door opened before I could think of a response.  Akin stepped into the room, looking tired.  His blazer was missing and there was a burn mark on his shirt.  I hoped it was a forging accident, rather than a particularly nasty hex.  The former would be bad, true, but the latter would represent a dangerous escalation.

Alana was already attacked, I reminded myself.  Someone might have targeted Akin in retaliation.

“Alana has been trying to make up with Cat,” Rose said, before I could say a word.  “Is that not a good thing?”

Akin shrugged.  “I suppose it depends on just what prompted it,” he said.  He sat down, his eyes meeting mine.  “Does she mean it, or is she trying to take advantage of you?”

I wanted to say yes, Alana was trying to take advantage of me.  But ... I wasn't sure.  Alana would never feel at ease baring her soul to me, unlike Rose.  She’d be reluctant to say anything too clearly for fear it would be used against her.  And ... I knew she could tell convincing lies.  She would have tried to be more convincing, I thought, if she’d been lying.

Unless that’s what she wants me to think, I told myself.  She might have tried to put up a false facade ...

I shook my head, firmly.  That sort of thinking led to madness.  Besides, Alana had never been that subtle with me.  She’d never had to be clever.  She had magic, powerful magic.  I didn't have magic.  And that was all there was to it.

“You might want to try,” Akin said.  He looked pained.  “My relationship with my sister disintegrated when it became clear that I’d be the Heir Primus and never really recovered.  I regret that, I think.”

Rose blinked.  “You think?”

“We were friends, once upon a time,” Akin said.  “I’d like to have that back.  But I can't give her what she wants and I’m unwilling to change into ... into what she wants me to be.  So I just ... hope she’ll grow out of it, eventually.”

“Ouch,” I said.  I felt a stab of pity, despite myself.  I’d understand refusing to elect someone who behaved badly, but rejecting someone because they were a girl?  It was alien to me.  “At least Alana has a reasonable chance of becoming Matriarch.”

Akin nodded.  “And Isabella doesn't see why we’re friends.”

Rose grinned.  “What did you tell her?”

“We have interests in common,” Akin said.  He smiled at me.  “Which is true.”

“Yes,” I said.  I paused as a thought occurred to me.  “Perhaps I should try and befriend her.”

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.

“We got spotted,” Isabella said, as we hurried into the dorm.  Thankfully, our dormmates had had the sense to pretend to be sleeping.  “I don’t think they saw who we were, but ...”

Gayle snorted.  “Did you get any food?”

“Of course not,” Isabella said.  “But we did learn something useful tonight.”

I shrugged off a handful of questions and crawled into bed.  Isabella was probably telling her cronies - and everyone else - how I’d nearly gotten us both killed.  I found it hard to care.  If she was telling the truth, the family hall had been attacked ...

... And, if that was true, did it mean we were going to lose the war?

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Morning brought no relief.

I stumbled out of bed at half past eight, splashed cold water on my face and headed for the door.  I was so far out of it that I nearly went through the door and out into the corridor without braiding my hair.  If Rose hadn't stopped me, I would probably have made it all the way down to the dining hall before realising what I was doing.  I could hardly have caused more scandal if I’d walked down naked.

“What really happened last night?”  Rose asked.  “Are you well?”

“I don’t know,” I said, as we reached the bottom of the stairs.  I probably looked ghastly, but I was too nervous to look in a mirror.  “We had a bit of an argument ...”

“Cat,” Val called.  I looked up to see her standing in front of the dining hall door.  “Have you seen the news?”

She thrust a handful of broadsheets towards me.  I took the first one and skimmed the lead story as quickly as I could.  Aguirre Hall had indeed been attacked ... and smashed into a pile of rubble.  My heart sank into my boots as I reread the story, then reached for the next broadsheet.  This one claimed that Aguirre Hall had been damaged, but remained intact.  The third broadsheet insisted that the attack had done nothing more than scorch the brickwork and melt the paint.  I didn't want to know what the remaining papers claimed.

I looked at Val.  “Which one of these is true?”

“Well, Aguirre Hall doesn't appear to have been smashed flat,” Val said.  “I went up to the roof and looked.  But it was definitely damaged.”

She smiled.  “Can I get a quote ...?”

I very nearly hit her.  She must have seen the murderous glint in my eye because she stumbled backwards, allowing us to enter the dining hall.  I dropped the broadsheets on the floor and walked into the chamber, leaving her behind.  All eyes turned to look at me as I entered.  There was no sign of either of my sisters.

They must have heard already, I thought.  I wasn't sure how either of them would react to the news.  Alana must be planning something.

I shuddered.  The stories had agreed that our parents were still alive - which suggested that Aguirre Hall hadn't been seriously damaged - but they hadn't agreed on anything else.  Our parents could be fighting back, or they could be planning to surrender, or ... I didn't know.  Not knowing was worse than anything else.  My imagination offered too many possibilities for my peace of mind.  If the hall had been stormed ...

Rose looked at me.  “What are you going to do?”

“I don't know,” I said.  I tried to imagine how the hall had been attacked, but drew a blank.  Anything powerful enough to shatter the wards would turn the entire building into a pile of rubble, killing anyone inside.  A wardcracker?  It was easy to believe that Akin’s father might have been backing Fairuza, except for the simple fact he’d sworn an oath.  Maybe whoever had been behind Fairuza had offered to sell him one of the wardcrackers I’d made.  That wouldn't break his oath.  “I just don’t know.”

I ate my breakfast slowly, not tasting any of it.  I wanted to run out of the building, straight to the hall ... I would have done it too, if Dad hadn't ordered us to remain at Jude’s.  People were being snatched off the streets, if rumours were to be believed.  I might be safe, as long as I stayed within the school grounds, but it would be open season if I left.  And yet ... I didn't believe the school was safe any longer.  I’d already been kidnapped once!

A hand fell on my shoulder.  I flinched.  I hadn't seen anything of Isabella in the morning, but I was sure she hadn't forgotten what I’d said to her.  And then ... I looked up and saw the Castellan, his blue eyes grim.  He wore a long robe covered with protective sigils.  My blood ran cold.  Somehow, he’d figured out that I’d been one of the students who’d tried to raid the kitchen.  And, as I was the only one they could prove had been involved - and I wasn't going to tattle - I was going to get all the blame.

“Report to my office at nine,” the Castellan ordered, gruffly.  “I don't expect you to be late.”

I swallowed.  “I’ve got charms theory and ...”

“You’re not going,” the Castellan said.  “Report to my office at nine.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

He turned and walked away, leaving confusion in his wake.  I’d once seen him march an older student out of the hall by his ear, heedless of the watching eyes.  He could have done that to me, except he hadn't.  I didn't know what to make of it.  If he knew I’d been out of bounds, he’d practically have to make an example of me.  Deterring other students was more important than my dignity.

I looked at Rose.  “What does he know?”

“Maybe nothing,” Rose said.  “It might be about your family.”

My heart sank.  She was right.  It might be about my family.  Or ... maybe I was being expelled.  Or simply kicked out of the school.  I took a final bite of my breakfast, then pushed it away.  I wasn’t hungry any longer.

“Good luck with the charms,” I told her.  “Try and stay close to Akin.”

Rose looked nervous.  I understood, all too well.  No one went around alone these days, no one.  There was just too great a chance of being randomly hexed.  Rose should be reasonably safe - she was Akin’s friend as well as mine - but I knew better than to count on it.  Isabella loathed her enough to take the risk of angering her brother.

The bell rang.  I stood and headed for the door, making my way up the stairwell to the Castellan’s office.  I’d already been in his office more times than the average firstie, alternatively threatened with suspension or feted for being a heroine.  His secretary looked up as I stepped into the antechamber, then pointed at the door.  I nodded and tapped on the wood, waiting for it to open.  Inside, the office was strikingly warm.  A massive fire was burning in the grate.

I half-expected to see Alana and Bella there too, waiting for me, but instead it was just me and the Castellan.  He was sitting behind his desk, reading his way through a stack of exam papers.  I frowned - we hadn't had the mocks yet - then remembered that the upperclassmen were supposed to practice with the older exam papers before their mocks.  They’d hate it, of course, but at least they’d learn how to cope before it became real.

And we have to take the mocks seriously, I reminded myself.  Maybe not for us firsties, but later ... they’ll be used to predict our final marks.

“Please, sit down,” the Castellan said.  “I’ll be with you in a moment.”

I sat, resting my hands in my lap.  Dad had taught me that pretending to be busy was a power ploy, but the Castellan hardly needed to pretend to be busy with me.  It didn’t feel as though I was in trouble, yet ... I had to fight to keep myself under control.  Why didn't he just get on with it?

“We have a number of matters to discuss,” the Castellan said finally, looking up at me.  His voice was calm, without a hint of anger.  “I need ...”

“My family,” I said, quickly.  “Are they all right?”

I saw a flicker of sympathy cross his face.  “Your Hall was attacked, I believe, but your parents are alive,” he said.  “I have reason to believe the damage wasn't serious.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said.  I almost fainted from relief.  “I’m sorry.”

“It is quite understandable,” the Castellan said.  “You’ve had something of a shock.”

I frowned, suspiciously.  Interrupting one’s elders and betters was one step below high treason, in the eyes of the grand dames.  Children like me were meant to be seen, yet never heard.  Mum might have tolerated it if we’d been alone, but never when we were visiting friends and family.  Some of the grand dames would probably have ranked speaking without being spoken to as a very serious crime.  It wasn't a harmless little prank like stealing money from the family.

And it just goes to show they lack perspective, I thought.  The grand dames didn't have that much actual power.  There are worse things than speaking out of turn ...

My blood ran cold.  The Castellan was very much my elder and better.  No one would say a word if he gave me lines for interrupting him.  And if he was prepared to simply ignore it ... what had happened?  What did he want to say?  I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

“Three months ago, we discussed your prospects for remaining at the school,” the Castellan said.  “There are classes you simply cannot pass, as you are well aware, and other classes where you are well ahead of your peers.  Magister Von Rupert, for example, has urged that you be allowed to join the third-years, while Magister Tallyman and Magistra Loanda believe a period of private study might be more useful.”

I swallowed.  I’d never expected to have the chance to join a higher class.  It was almost unknown, no matter how advanced the younger student.  Akin and I were both well ahead of the other firsties in forging, but ... we’d never fit in amongst students two or more years older than us.  Better to grow older with the other firsties than forever be the babies of the class.

“There’s also the problem of the exams,” the Castellan added.  He held up a report.  “Your theory is good, great even.  But your practicals ... you couldn't pass.  You’d need to use Objects of Power during your potions exam, which is - technically - cheating.  There would be complaints which, on the face of it, would be fully justified.”

“Yes, sir.”  I kept my voice low.  I knew he was right.  Potions class was about learning how to precisely focus one’s magic as much as it was about brewing potions.  I could do the latter, but not the former.  If I used the stirrers, I was effectively cheating.  But without them ... I couldn't produce anything more than a cauldron of sludge.  “I understand.”

I looked down at my hands, feeling - again - a sense of despair.  I could produce wonders.  I had produced wonders.  But I couldn't even pass a mock exam for first-year students.  Alana was right.  I was a freak.  I was alone ...

“I confess I’m not entirely sure how to handle the problem, particularly now,” the Castellan told me.  “So, I’ve decided that you will be withdrawn from most classes and embark on a private study program.  A handful of your teachers have volunteered to continue to work with you, either to develop your theoretical magic or enhance your forging skills.  It will be difficult, of course, for you to claim you have passed exams, but I dare say that making a working flying machine should silence any doubters.”

I frowned.  “I do have a two-star in forging.”

“And you can earn more, if you wish,” the Castellan said.  “But tell me.  Is there any point in you remaining in your classes?”

“Maybe,” I said.  I didn't really want special treatment.  And yet, there was no point in trying to argue.  He had a very good point.  “I could stay in the theoretical classes ...”

“You’re too far ahead of most of the other firsties,” the Castellan pointed out.  “Magister Von Rupert is already talking about taking you as an apprentice.  There’s very little point in having you advancing in baby steps when you could be moving ahead by leaps and bounds.”

I blinked.  “An apprenticeship?”

“Not until you’re older,” the Castellan said, dryly.  “You’re far too young.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.  An apprenticeship from a respected Magister would remove all doubt about me.  To have such an offer at twelve, made freely ... it would make my reputation.  And yet ... it would be limiting.  Very limiting.  “I don’t think it would suit me.”

“Perhaps not,” the Castellan agreed.  “Realistically, we need to devise a training course for Zeroes like you.  It will not be easy.”

“No, sir,” I said.  “It might be better to hold it somewhere else.”

I looked down at my hands.  I’d had enough problems, growing up with my sisters.  Other Zeroes might find it worse, far worse.  Better to teach them how to forge - and follow magical geometry - somewhere far away from Jude’s.  Dad could purchase a disused building on the edge of the city, or establish a training institute on one of the family estates.  Now we knew what I actually was, it would be easier to train someone else like me.

If they want to learn, I thought.  I’d wanted to learn, if only because I had hoped I had magic hidden away deep inside me.  But others might see it as thankless work.

“That’s something that will have to be sorted out after the war,” the Castellan said.  He looked pained.  “That is an argument in favour of an apprenticeship, of course.”

I shook my head.  I liked Magister Von Rupert.  And I would have been happy to work with him for years to come.  But I doubted he had the determination to stand up to House Rubén if they demanded that he surrender me into their custody.  Magister Grayson was a much more formidable man, yet even he could be pressured.  The apprenticeship might end badly if my family lost the war.

“No, sir,” I said, finally.  “Not now.”

“As you wish,” the Castellan said.  He picked up a piece of paper and held it out to me.  “Your new schedule.  I expect you to follow it.  I’m afraid that--” he smiled, rather wanly “--despite your special status, you are still a firstie.  You’re not allowed to ignore upperclassmen when they speak to you.”

“Yes, sir,” I said.

I looked down at the paper.  It was surprisingly simple.  I’d have a lecture or a theoretical discussion in the morning, then do practical work or private study in the afternoon.  It looked as though I’d still be taking lunch with the other firsties, but there was room for me to eat later if I wished.  Come to think of it, I could simply get some sandwiches from the kitchen and eat in a study room.

“You do have one privilege,” the Castellan added.  He smiled, but it didn't quite touch his eyes.  “You’ll be allowed to claim a study room permanently, if you wish.  No one will be able to kick you out.”

“Thank you, sir,” I mumbled.  It was a privilege.  But it was also not as useful as he might have thought.  “Ah ... a workroom might be better.”

“We may have to put one aside for you,” the Castellan said.  “Right now, with mocks coming up, we need every workroom open to everyone.”

I nodded.  “Yes, sir.”

The Castellan leaned back in his chair.  “Magister Von Rupert will meet with you at ten,” he told me.  “You’re expected to assist with his current project.”

I met his eyes.  “Why me?”

The Castellan looked back at me.  I wondered, suddenly, if I’d gone too far.  He’d gone out on a limb for me and now ... now I’d been a cheeky little brat.  Except ... he didn't look angry.  He looked old.

“Right now, I don’t know who I can trust,” he said.  “And far too many of the city’s magicians have been dragged into the war.”

I blinked.  “You can't get them to come work here?”

“I don’t know which ones I can trust,” the Castellan said.  “Every wardsmith of repute, Cat, is connected to one of the Great Houses.  Normally, that wouldn't be a problem.  But now ... at best, they have too much work to do outside the school.”

“And at worst they’re untrustworthy,” I finished.  The thought was terrifying.  “How will this end?”

The Castellan sighed.  “I believe the Crown Prince is making noises about bringing his Household Troops into the city to stop the war,” he said.  “Technically, this will be a breach of the city’s charter, but I suspect His Highness doesn't care.  Shallot is very important to the kingdom, after all.  And besides, if he does manage to impose peace, everyone will be quietly grateful.”

I frowned.  “But it won’t make the problem go away, will it?”

“Perhaps not,” the Castellan said.  He certainly didn’t sound as though he believed it would make the problem go away.  “But if he can impose a ceasefire, he can convince the various Matriarchs and Patriarchs to discuss a long-term solution to their problems.  It might not be that hard to come up with a face-saving solution.”

“Perhaps we could give House Rubén the sword, but in such a way it cannot be used,” I said, remembering Rose’s suggestion.  “Or ...”

“Maybe,” the Castellan said.  He shook his head, slowly.  “But the sword isn't the real problem, Cat.  It’s just the excuse both sides seized upon to justify their conflict.”

He shrugged.  “Go report to Magister Von Rupert,” he told me.  “And don’t mention what I told you about the Crown Prince to anyone, even your closest friends.  It’ll leak out, sooner or later, but by then we should be ready to handle it.”

I rose.  “Yes, sir,” I said.  I thought I should probably write to Dad, but I was fairly certain my father would already know.  “Thank you, sir.”

“We’ll talk again, after your fellows have taken their mocks,” the Castellan said.  “Who knows?  By then, there may even be peace.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Somewhat to my surprise, it was a week before any hints of the Crown Prince’s plans to impose a ceasefire leaked into the school, sparking off a whole new series of rumours.  A great many people - my parents amongst them - must have known right from the start, but they’d said nothing.  Perhaps that was why the news didn't leak earlier.  No one believed it was true because no reliable source would swear to it.

Not that the news made matters any better, of course.  Order had practically broken down completely.  I wasn't sure why the teachers hadn't simply locked us in our dorms instead of trying to pretend that everything was normal.  Students went everywhere in groups, exchanging hexes with their rivals when the teachers weren't looking; I kept my head down and tried to slip around without being noticed.  It wasn't easy.  Alana was practically leading one group of students and she kept demanding I forge weapons and protective amulets for them.

The Castellan summoned us to the Great Hall, as soon as the new set of rumours spread out of control, growing in the telling until they became unrecognisable.  The Crown Prince’s Household Troops were already taking up positions within Shallot; no, they were massing on the outskirts, just waiting for the order to enter the city and take control of the city’s government.  The Royal Navy was blockading our harbours; no, the Royal Navy was actually escorting ships in and out of the city.  The Great Houses had sworn to fight to the death, rather than let the Crown Prince tear the city’s charter to shreds; no, the Great Houses had decided to submit themselves to His Highness’s authority.  The Kingsmen had already taken the Patriarchs and Matriarchs prisoner; no, the Kingsmen had been withdrawn by the king.  A billion soldiers were already marching on the city ... that rumour, at least, didn't last more than a few hours.  There wasn’t anything like as many soldiers in the army.

I glanced at Akin as I sat on the bench.  He was seated on the other side of the room, Isabella sitting next to him like a chaperoning grand dame.  I was all too aware that I’d barely had any time to talk to him, between my new schedule and Isabella following him around like an angry guard dog.  He didn't seem willing or able to slip away.  My imagination provided all sorts of plans for slipping into his dorm, only for common sense to reject them all.  The rules specifically stated that boys were not allowed to enter the female dorms and vice versa.  I’d be in real trouble if I was caught trying to sneak in, whatever my intentions.  Mum would definitely not be amused.

Alana sat down next to me.  “We need you to produce a handful of focusing devices,” she said, so quietly I could barely hear her.  “And ...”

I tuned her out.  We hadn't had so much as a letter from Mum and Dad since Aguirre Hall had been attacked, although it seemed to be clear that they were still alive.  If Dad had died, someone would have inherited his post ... Alana might think she was first in line, but she was far too young.  I rather thought it might be better for her if one of our uncles became Patriarch, with his eldest child as the new Heir Primus, but I wasn't cruel enough to say that out loud.  Even she was more worried about our parents than her position.

The Castellan cleared his throat.  His voice, when he spoke, was very cool.  “You may have heard rumours about certain actions on the part of His Highness, Crown Prince Henry of Tintagel.  The truth behind the rumours is simple.  The Crown Prince, having determined that the House War is threatening to spill out of control, is bringing troops to the city to prevent the conflict from getting any worse.  Magus Court has given its reluctant assent to the movement, which will see troops on our streets within the next two days.”

I frowned as a rustle of ... something ... ran through the air.  We’d all been brought up to believe that Shallot was effectively autonomous.  We were part of the kingdom and paid taxes accordingly, but we lived under our own laws.  I could taste the shock in the air.  The Kingsmen were one thing - half of them were trained in Shallot anyway - yet bringing in troops was quite another.  It was an outrage.  Who in Magus Court would agree to it?

But they might not have a choice, I thought.  The House War really is getting out of hand.

I swallowed.  The rumours had been growing worse and worse over the last few days.  Attacks and counterattacks, hexes and curses ... entire households smashed, the handful of survivors forced to flee the city.  Amber had been told, in private, that her mother had been killed four days ago.  She’d barely gotten out of bed since.  I was surprised Sandy had simply let her stay there, although I thought I understood.  Going to classes with the children of the people who might have killed Amber’s mother was a little too much to ask.

“There is a second point,” the Castellan continued.  “Once the House War is over, the Crown Prince plans to convene a conference of the various Matriarchs and Patriarchs to ensure that nothing like this happens again.  This conference will be held here, at Jude’s.  During that time, you will remain in your dorms unless you have special permission to be elsewhere.”

I glanced at Alana.  Our parents would be there.  We could go see Mum and Dad after the conference broke up for the night.  I doubted, somehow, that everything would really be settled in a day, unless the Crown Prince planned to dictate terms at swordpoint.  Maybe that was what he had in mind.  It might just give everyone a face-saving excuse for putting the war and its causes firmly in the past.

Or it might make matters worse, I thought.  It might even unite the Great Houses against the throne.

Uneasy mutterings ran through the chamber as the implications sank in.  The Castellan had talked of the conference as if it would last a few short hours, at most.  Rose and her fellow commoners might not understand the problem, but the aristocrats did.  It normally took longer to agree on the shape of the conference table, let alone all the other details that needed to be resolved before real discussions might begin.  Perhaps the Crown Prince planned to organise everything himself, or at least claim to have done so.  It might speed things up a little.

But it won’t speed up the rest of the conference, I told myself.  It will take weeks to sort through all the old grudges and resolve them.

“This will not be an easy time for any of us,” the Castellan said.  “Mocks are not that far away.  However, I expect you - all of you - to behave yourself.  The Prince’s household troops will be patrolling the school too, when the conference begins.  Do not do anything to irritate them or they’ll box your ears.”

Ouch, I thought.

“Dismissed,” the Castellan said, finally.  He sounded tired, as if he was forcing himself to speak.  “And behave.”

Alana grabbed my arm and tugged me towards the nearest door.  “What do you think it means?”

I shrugged as Rose fell in beside us.  “The Crown Prince probably wants to tell us to behave ourselves,” I said.  I smiled at the thought of my parents - and everyone else’s parents - being lectured like adults lectured children.  “Or maybe he wants to dictate terms to everyone else.”

“Which could end badly,” Alana said.  “What if he demands you hand over the sword?”

I met her eyes.  “If it ended the war,” I asked her, “would you not hand over the sword?”

“It would make us look weak,” Alana snapped.  We slowed as we approached the door.  The press of older students was too thick for us to escape.  “Who knows what they’d demand next?”

“They can't force Cat to repair other Objects of Power,” Rose pointed out.  “She’d be able to dictate terms before getting to work.”

“Assuming it’s possible,” I muttered.  “I couldn't guarantee anything.”

Magister Von Rupert was standing outside the door, his arms folded.  “Cat,” he said, briskly.  “You’re with me.”

I looked at Alana.  “Get Rose somewhere safe, please.”

Alana frowned, then nodded.  I hoped she’d do it without causing problems.  Bella would have been better, but I hadn't seen her in the Great Hall.  She’d probably come in late and stood by the far wall.  I didn't want to think about possible alternatives.  If she’d been caught alone by the same bunch of elder students who’d attacked Alana ...

I followed Magister Von Rupert as he led the way down to the basement.  “We ... ah ... have to establish extra wardstones before the Crown Prince’s arrival,” he said, opening the door to the hidden passages.  There seemed to be less dust in the air these days.  Perhaps I was just becoming used to its presence.  “They all have to be emplaced today.”

“That might be tricky,” I said.  “How long do we really have?”

Magister Von Rupert said nothing for a long moment.  “Two days,” he said, finally.  “The Crown Prince ... ah ... feels that matters should be resolved as quickly as possible.”

I shook my head in disbelief.  I could understand the urgency, the grim determination to get everything finished as quickly as possible, but ... I couldn't imagine any such agreement lasting for very long.  The Great Houses had been nursing their grudges for centuries.  They were all coming into the open now.  I just ... I just didn't believe the Crown Prince could convince them to put their grudges aside.  Unless he had something really clever up his sleeve.  I mulled it over as we reached a makeshift workroom, but nothing came to mind.  He had to be out of his mind.

He is a little bit older than you, I reminded myself.  Maybe he thinks he has enough leverage to make them bend the knee.

“I’ve drawn out a diagram,” Magister Von Rupert said, pointing to a ramshackle wooden workbench.  A paper scroll lay on top, held down by four books and a Device of Power I didn't recognise.  “Does it make sense to you?”

I tried not to show my dismay on my face.  I was an advanced student.  There was no doubt of that.  But I lacked the experience of a qualified wardsmith.  Magister Von Rupert needed a team of trained magicians assisting him, not me.  I could understand the Castellan’s fear and frustration all too well.  His predecessors had left Jude’s dependent on an Object of Power that they could neither understand nor duplicate.  And now the wards, facing their hardest test, were starting to break apart.

“It looks good,” I said, carefully.  Magister Von Rupert would have asked Magister Grayson to check, wouldn't he?  If Magister Von Rupert had got something wrong ... it would have been spotted ... right?  I hoped so.  The diagram was relatively simple, thankfully, but it would have problems adapting to Jude’s.  Perhaps it was time to build a whole new school from scratch.  “But will it fit in with the rest of the buildings?”

“As long as it holds up for the next week or two ... ah ... it shouldn't be a problem,” Magister Von Rupert told me.  “Ah ... take one of the wardstones and follow me.”

I felt a flicker of resentment as I bent over and picked up the closest wardstone.  It wasn't very large - it was a crystalline shell surrounding a Device of Power - but it was heavy.  I could forge something better, I thought, if I had the time.  An Object of Power would produce all the magic the school needed, at least until the magic field weakened and everything collapsed.  This time, at least, there were some very definite advantages to using Devices of Power.

“This way,” Magister Von Rupert said.  “Hurry.”

I followed him through the corridors, grunting under the strain.  I would have resented it more, I suppose, if he wasn't such a little old man.  I probably was stronger than him, if only because he was old enough to be my great-granddad.  He stopped as we reached the first checkpoint, then motioned for me to put the wardstone down in the correct place.  I let out a sigh of relief as I lowered it to the ground.  My back felt uncomfortably sore.

“Check the diagrams,” Magister Von Rupert ordered, as he drew out a set of runes using Casting Chalk.  “Ah ... I want to account for everything before I trigger the wardstone.”

I stood to one side and followed his work, carefully.  He might be old, but there was nothing wrong with his mind.  The diagrams were perfect.  I wondered, suddenly, where he’d grown up.  He didn't act like an aristocrat, but he had skills that had been drummed into my head since I was old enough to walk.  Rose was smart, yet she couldn't draw anything more complex than a very basic set of runic diagrams.

“It looks perfect,” I said, when he'd finished.  “But can the wardstone draw on enough power to work?”

“I think so,” Magister Von Rupert said.  “Ah ... as long as it holds out for the next two weeks ...”

“It’ll be fine,” I finished.  It was an oddly slapdash approach, but I suspected he understood at least some of the true problem.  He might not realise that the magic field was dropping - if indeed it was dropping - yet he was smart enough to realise that they were simply using too much power.  “Still ... using so many wardstones at once will be difficult.”

“I know,” Magister Von Rupert said.  “But do you have a better idea?”

I tried to think about it as we went back to the workroom, collected the next wardstone and carried it through the passageways.  Nothing came to mind, save - perhaps - for reducing some of the other demands on the Object of Power.  Perhaps if we turned off all the lights ... it might be possible, although it would cause its own problems.  Most of the classrooms didn't have windows.  And who knew how many other essential functions would be accidentally disabled along with the lights?

We really need to diagram out the whole system, I thought.  My mind returned to the old refrain.  Or simply rebuild the school from scratch.

I looked at him as we lowered the third wardstone into place.  “Why did they just ... just make such a hodgepodge of a system?”

“You’re ... ah, young,” Magister Von Rupert said.  He made it sound like I’d committed a terrible crime.  “The young always have ... ah ... ideals.  A perfect system for a perfect school ... ah, the real world is not always so accommodating.  It was easier ... ah ... to just keep adding new functions to the existing system than build a newer system.  Or ... ah, a separate system.  Interlocking them all seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“But now the system is on the verge of collapse,” I said.  “How can it be a good idea?”

Magister Von Rupert smiled, rather toothily.  “Nothing lasts forever,” he said.  “Not even the Eternal City.  It's sometimes just a matter of prolonging something’s lifespan as long as possible.”

He coughed as dust flew into his face.  “Ah ... it’s also a matter of putting something off until it becomes someone else’s problem.  I put forward a proposal for renovating the whole system ten years ago, when it became clear that we couldn't keep the ... hodgepodge, as you called it ... working indefinitely.  The Castellan passed it on to the Triad, who said nothing.  Ah ... they didn’t want to authorise the expense, you see.”

I blinked.  “But ... they're risking the school.”

“And the ... ah ... renovations would consume over half the school’s budget for the next ten years,” Magister Von Rupert said.  He laughed, harshly.  “We would have problems paying for it.”

“But we'd also have problems paying for a new school,” I said.  “Right?”

“Right,” Magister Von Rupert said.  “But if we don’t need a new school, we don’t need a new school.  Right?”

I said nothing as we emplaced and checked the last wardstones, then headed slowly back to the workroom.  My uniform was covered in dust ... I kicked myself, mentally, for not taking the time to change into my overalls.  I wanted a shower - perhaps several showers - before I found out if the household staff could repair the damage or not.  Magister Von Rupert dismissed me with a wave, so I stumbled back up to the surface.  The dust burned my throat as I stepped through the entrance.  My eyes were stinging ...

... And Isabella was standing by the statue, looking at me.  Her golden hair shone in the light.

I stared at her, alarmed and puzzled.  Was she waiting for me?  She’d rejected the olive branch I’d held out, but ... Akin might have had a few words with her.  Or ... I was too tired to speak, too aware of my condition to want to bandy words with her.  I waited, silently relieved - for once - that I had no magic.  No one could have cast a spell in such a state.  My protections, on the other hand, would work just fine.

Isabella studied me for a long moment, then turned and walked away.  I watched her go, unsure what to make of it.  Had she come to talk to me?  Or ... I didn't know.

It probably doesn't matter, I thought, as I headed for the stairs.  Sandy was not going to be pleased when she saw me trailing dust into the dorm.  Maybe she was just waiting for someone else.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“What do you do,” Sandy asked Rose, “if His Highness looks at you?”

I tried not to roll my eyes as I sat on the bed and listened.  Sandy was clearly nervous, so nervous she’d forgotten that she was annoyed with us.  I would have felt sorry for her if she hadn't been drilling us all - particularly Rose - on royal protocol for the last two days.  Half our classes had been cancelled so the upperclassmen could make sure we knew what to do.  I couldn't help being a little insulted.  I’d been drilled in protocol by people who were far more pedantic than Sandy and her fellows.

“Drop my eyes and curtsey,” Rose said.  Her voice was flat.  I was pretty sure she was already tired of royal protocol.  It wasn't something she’d been expected to learn back on the farm.  “And keep my eyes down unless he asks me a question.”

“Quite right,” Sandy said, somehow managing to convey the sentiment that His Highness would be unlikely to ever ask Rose anything.  “And if he does ask a question ...?”

“Answer as quickly as possible,” Rose said, “then lower my eyes again.”

“Correct,” Sandy said.  She eyed Rose for a long moment.  “Remember, keep yourself under control at all times.  You do not want people to remember you as the person who ruined His Highness’s visit to the school.”

She turned and walked away.  I rolled my eyes at her retreating back, then looked at Rose.  My friend looked tired, even though it was barely early afternoon.  We’d spent the entire morning washing ourselves thoroughly, then donning our dress uniforms.  Sandy had promised bloody murder if we even thought about getting dust or grime on the outfits.  I’d seen the very nasty glint in her eye and decided it wouldn’t be wise to try her.  Our mistakes would reflect badly on poor Sandy.

“I don’t know what to do,” Rose muttered.  “What do I do if he asks me a question I can't answer?”

I considered it for a long moment.  “He probably won’t ask anything too hard,” I said.  “If he does, it will be a polite enquiry into your health rather than anything else.”

Rose smiled, rather wanly.  “He will remember us, won’t he?”

“Probably,” I said.  The Crown Prince had chaired the inquest, after all.  “But I don’t think he’ll speak to us in public.”

I sighed, inwardly.  My parents would be in the room.  So would Sandy, who was technically my elder sister as long as she ran the dorm.  Asking me anything without their permission would be a severe breach of etiquette, although I couldn't imagine Sandy saying no to the Crown Prince.  Although maybe she would, if she was feeling bitter and resentful.  It wasn't as if she had much of a future in Shallot anyway.  She might as well do something that would make sure she was remembered.

“That’s good,” Rose said.  I dragged my attention back to her with an effort.  “What do we do now?”

I looked at the clock and groaned.  “We wait.”

It felt like hours - it was hours - before we finally got the call to head down to the entrance hall.  I stood, brushed down my long skirt and inspected myself in the mirror.  The dress uniform looked identical to the regular uniform, right down to the white shirt, black skirt and blazer, but it was sewn from expensive materials and cost more than all of my normal outfits put together.  Rose had been given a dress uniform of her own, on the clear understanding that it was a loan instead of a gift.  She’d have to give it back when she outgrew it.  I supposed we were lucky that none of us had had a growth spurt since we’d been fitted for the uniforms.  They took weeks for even a skilled seamstress to make.

“Make sure you don’t lose control of your hair,” I told Rose, as we lined up by the door.  For once, there were no objections to walking in crocodile formation.  “You do not want to see one of your braids unravel in front of His Highness.”

Rose frowned, but checked her braids anyway.  I didn't fault her for worrying.  I’d braided her hair after the shower and placed a couple of charmed pins to make sure it stayed in place, but her hair was a little unruly.  Mine was worse, but I’d had plenty of experience in braiding it firmly enough to ensure it didn't get out of control for hours.  The only real danger was someone trying to hex it, like Alana had done when we were younger ... yet I found it hard to believe that anyone would take the risk.  They’d be lucky to be only expelled when they were caught by the Castellan.  He’d been doing everything in his power to make sure that Jude’s was ready for the royal visit.

And yet, the wards are not secure, I thought, as Sandy marched us out of the room.  She was so tense I was surprised she didn't make us hold hands.  They could snap at any moment.

It was quiet - eerily quiet - outside, even though lines of schoolchildren were steadily making their way towards the entrance hall.  I wondered if someone had cast a particularly odd muffling hex over the entire school, then realised that hardly anyone dared speak with the upperclassmen - and the Crown Prince’s Household Troops - on guard.  The latter lined the lower corridors, standing so still that they might as well be statues.  I did my best to ignore them as we walked past, despite the urge to put as much distance as I could between myself and the guards.  There was something vaguely sinister about them that I’d never felt from the family’s armsmen.  But then, that had been in a time of peace.  Now ...

A shiver ran down my spine as Sandy led us into the entrance hall.  Row after row of lowerclassmen were already there, trying their hardest to stand still.  Teachers moved around the room with clipboards, directing the newcomers to their places.  The entrance hall was vast, large enough to hold a clipper ship and have room left over for a handful of fishing boats, yet it seemed cramped.  I wondered, rather sourly, why the Castellan had insisted that we all had to pay our respects to the Crown Prince.  It was an honour I would cheerfully have foregone.

But it might have been taken as an insult, I told myself.  I’d had to greet visitors to the hall practically from the moment I’d learnt to walk.  Mum and Dad had insisted that we dress up like little dolls and stand there, seen but not heard, until the ceremonies were over.  We don’t get to go upstairs until after the welcoming formalities have been completed.

“Stay quiet,” Sandy ordered, when we were finally in our lines.  “And don’t even twitch!”

I tried not to snort at the sheer absurdity of that order.  Sure, most of us had been drilled on protocol from birth, but ... we couldn’t stay completely still unless we were frozen in place.  I wasn’t fool enough to say that out loud.  Sandy was in such a bad mood that I feared she might take it for good advice.  It probably broke protocol in some way, I thought, but I couldn't put my finger on it.  Perhaps no one had been foolish enough to do it before.

Rose was twitching next to me.  I felt a stab of pity - Rose was hardly used to standing still for hours on end - as I started to glance around the chamber.  Someone had removed the Great House banners from the walls and replaced them with the Royal Coat of Arms and a rather large painting of King Rufus the Fat.  It had been a long time since I’d laid eyes on the king, but I didn't remember him being quite so imposing.  His immense bulk had been more of a danger to shipping than anything else.  It was hard to believe that he'd fathered a son as handsome as the Crown Prince.

“Stay still,” I muttered, as quietly as I could.  “You don’t want to attract attention.”

“I’m trying,” Rose muttered back.  “But how long is it going to be?”

I shrugged.  I’d already lost track of time.  It felt like we’d been waiting for hours ... I watched the upperclassmen entering the chamber and taking their own places, their faces grim when they weren't tightly controlled.  Sandy gave us one last warning look, then hurried over to join her peers.  I felt a stab of sympathy.  I’d have hated being the one to look after us lowerclassmen too.

It’s supposed to get easier in second year, I thought.  We elect our dorm monitor then.

Trumpets blew.  I hastily straightened as the main doors were flung open, bracing myself for ... anything.  A line of aristocrats - some familiar, some not - began to file into the room, walking as steadily as if they were taking part in a grand parade.  Some of the ones I didn't recognise were members of the Crown Prince’s household, judging by their livery, but others were complete strangers.  There was no sign of my parents or the other House Heads.  My eyes narrowed as I spotted Great Aunt Stregheria and a handful of the other grand dames.  What were they doing here?

The aristocrats moved to the front of the room and stopped.  They didn't turn and look at us.  I tried to look at their backs without moving too much, trying to determine just what they were doing.  It looked as though they were staring at the Castellan and his staff, who were waiting at the head of the room.  And then the trumpets blew again.  I snapped my eyes back to the door, just in time to see the Crown Prince stride into the room.  He was clad in a garment of golden silk, rather than armour.  It was a gesture of trust, I knew from my lessons, although I didn't think he was unprotected.  There could be any number of charms - and Devices of Power - protecting him from sudden attack.

A rustle ran through the room as we knelt.  The stone floor felt hard against my knees, despite the charms I knew were meant to be embroidered into my skirt.  Had they already failed?  I forced myself to recite complex magical theory under my breath, trying to keep my mind off the growing discomfort.  I’d have to practice kneeling if this was going to become a regular thing, I told myself.  Normally, I wasn't expected to do more than curtsey to visitors.  It was all I could do to look at the Crown Prince without making it obvious.

He moved with easy grace, I noted, as he strode up the middle of the room and came to a halt in front of the Castellan.  His eyes looked neither left nor right as he passed me.  I felt a flicker of disappointment, even though I’d known he probably wouldn't acknowledge me in front of the entire world.  It would have been seen as favouring me - and my family - over the rest of the city, blasting the peace talks out of the water before they even began.  Rose shifted beside me and I nudged her, gently.  She couldn't afford to be noticed now.

The Castellan knelt.  His staff followed suit.  I felt a stab of pity for Magister Von Rupert and the others who were genuinely old and creaky, the ones who were even less used to kneeling than myself.  Magister Von Rupert looked to be in pain; Magister Grayson, beside him, was supporting him gently.  I felt a stab of guilt for staring and looked away, hastily, as more people started to file into the room.  My parents were among them, decked out in their finest clothes.  It was all I could do not to get off my knees and run to them.

“Most Gracious Crown Prince,” the Castellan said.  His voice was firm, yet there was an undertone I didn't like at all.  He was sucking up to the Crown Prince.  “We bid thee welcome to our noble halls ...”

My knees ached.  I found it hard to follow the speech - reams upon reams of flattery and outright grovelling - as I tried to keep myself from toppling over.  It wasn't easy to stay in place with my muscles threatening to spasm.  I was definitely going to practice every day for the rest of my life.  It grew so bad that I could barely stand, when we were finally told we could rise.  My legs kept threatening to betray me.

“I present to you my staff,” the Castellan said.  He introduced them, one by one.  “They will be honoured to show you their classrooms, later in the week.”

“It will be my pleasure,” the Crown Prince said.  If he was disgusted by the Castellan’s flattery, he didn't show it.  His voice was warm and friendly, yet steeped in authority.  I was impressed, despite myself.  It wasn't an easy act to pull off, even for a grown adult.  “I look forward to touring your school at a later date.”

I tried to listen as he kept speaking, but the aching made it hard to concentrate.  Instead, I tried to look around the chamber without making it obvious that I wasn't paying attention.  I saw Akin’s father, standing next to his wife and surrounded by his clients, his face so impassive that it might as well be carved from stone.  My parents stood a careful distance from him, surrounded by their own clients.  Dad stood calmly, listening with every appearance of enjoyment; Mum seemed slightly less composed, although it was only evident to someone who actually knew her.  I couldn't help wondering, as my eyes slipped to Great Aunt Stregheria, why she wasn't with the rest of the family.  She really should be standing next to my father, offering her support by her mere presence, if she was going to come at all.

Maybe Dad didn't want her standing next to him, I thought.  My Great Aunt’s face was utterly impassive.  I wouldn't want her standing next to me either.

She turned, just slightly.  For a second, our eyes met.  It was all I could do not to flinch.  She was angry.  I half-expected a hex to come flying in my direction, even though it would mean utter social death for Great Aunt Stregheria.  Had Dad ordered her to attend?  She wouldn't like that - and no one would like her company - but he might not have given her any real choice.  And yet, being invited to join the dinner being held in honour of the Crown Prince was a great honour.  The upperclassmen who’d received one of the coveted seats had been bragging about it to anyone who would listen for the last two days.

Not that they’ll really enjoy it, I thought.  I’d attended state dinners as a little girl, where I’d been confined to the kids table and warned to keep my mouth shut.  The upperclassmen were older, true, but still children compared to the adults.  Even the Crown Prince was a husband and father in his own right.  They’ll have absolutely no chance to network when the adults are talking.

It felt like years - decades, perhaps - passed before the Crown Prince and his entourage finally swept out of the room, followed by the gathered aristocracy.  They’d all be housed in the lower levels, we'd been told.  A number of bedrooms that had originally been designed for teachers had been put aside for them, although I wasn't sure why anyone had bothered.  It wasn't as if the Crown Prince - and everyone else - didn't have a place to stay in the city.  But everyone had apparently agreed to stay at Jude’s without hesitation.  The prospect for networking - particularly on neutral ground - could not be ignored.

I sagged in relief as the upperclassmen started pushing us towards the door.  My knees still hurt - I was sure they were bruised - but it wouldn't be long before I could rub salve on them, perhaps even get Rose to cast a numbing charm.  Or ... I gritted my teeth as I realised Sandy was directing us back to the stairs.  I didn't want to go back to the dorm.  I was pretty sure Rose didn't want to go either.

Sandy eyed me, nastily, as I stopped at the bottom of the stairs.  “And what do you think you’re doing?”

“I have permission to go to the workroom,” I said.  It was true.  “And Rose has permission too.”

“Oh,” Sandy said.  “And do you think you have permission to be there when the Crown Prince is visiting?”

“He isn't going to be in the workroom,” I said.  We’d been promised a fate worse than death if we entered the Crown Prince’s quarters, but I knew he wouldn't be in the workroom.  “We’ll be out of the way ...”

“I have to discuss protocol with Rose,” Sandy told me.  She looked torn.  “You, on the other hand ... on your head be it.”

I felt a stab of guilt.  “Rose has permission too ...”

“Maybe,” Sandy said.  She didn't sound as if she believed me.  “But she also needs to study protocol.”

Rose nudged my arm.  “Cat, you go,” she said.  “I’ll be down to meet you after the protocol lesson.”

I groaned, torn between the urge to go to the workroom and forge and a reluctance to leave Rose to Sandy’s tender mercies.  Sandy was right, I supposed.  Rose did need more protocol lessons.  But it felt, very much, as though I was abandoning my friend.  Rose didn't deserve to be left alone in the dorm.

“Go,” Sandy ordered.  Her face relaxed, slightly.  “I’ll send Rose down soon.”

Chapter Thirty

The workroom felt eerie.

I shivered, feeling cold, as I lit the lanterns and started to gather materials for forging.  I had permission to use the main workroom at any time, as long as the upperclassmen didn't have to practice their forging, but it still felt almost as if I was trespassing.  I tried to ignore the feeling as I picked up my tools and placed them on the desk, then took an instruction book from the shelves and started to flick through it.  There were thousands of Objects of Power I wanted to forge, even though I doubted I’d succeed on my first try.  Some of them were so complex that I found it difficult to understand how anyone had succeeded in the first place.

Unless they shrank the innermost workings afterwards, I thought, as I studied the instructions carefully.  But it doesn't look as though they did anything of the sort.

I shook my head in annoyance, pulling my blazer around me for warmth.  I’d have to change into my overalls before I started work - there were spare overalls in the locker rooms - but for the moment, all I wanted to do was figure out precisely what the ancients had done.  They’d forged components so small that, if the book was to be believed, they could barely be seen with the naked eye.  I wasn't sure how they’d done that, not without cheating and using shrinking spells.  But the shrinking spells should have rendered the Object of Power unusable.  Perhaps they’d designed Objects of Power that helped them forge other Objects of Power.  It certainly should be possible.

A clattering sound echoed down the hallway and into the workroom.  I looked up, hoping to see Rose, but there was nothing.  One of the guards, perhaps.  Or maybe another student, trying to find a place to work far from the maddening crowd.  I wasn't sure if the library was even open while the Crown Prince was visiting.  The Great Hall had been closed off for the ceremonial dinner, I’d been told, but what about everything else?  Did they intend to send sandwiches to the dorms?

Probably, I thought, cynically.  It isn't as if anyone would complain.

I reached for my notebook and started jotting down ideas.  The ancients had known a thing or two that hadn't been included in the instructions, but I suspected I could duplicate it ... given time.  It wouldn't be that hard to forge an Object of Power that allowed me to work with very small components, although it would be tricky.  I’d made watches, in the past, but they were simple clockwork.  An Object of Power needed to balance its innards with the spellform ...

They were very clever, I reminded myself.  I felt a stab of envy for Tyros and his friends, even though I knew they’d been little more than slaves.  They’d had access to decades - centuries, perhaps - of institutional knowledge.  I had only fragments, half of which were dangerously untrustworthy.  We might have to go all the way back to first principles.

Another clatter echoed down the hall.  I sighed and walked to the door, looking up and down the corridor before closing it firmly.  Magister Tallyman had told me to leave the door open while I was alone in the workroom, but he was at the dinner and would be there until late evening.  The toasts and speeches alone would take hours.  I considered locking the door briefly, then dismissed the thought.  Rose was supposed to be coming down to join me.  I didn't want to accidentally lock her out.

Returning to the workbench, I forced myself to parse out the instructions line by line.  It was always irritating to see just how much the original writers had taken for granted - and how much had been forgotten over the years - but I was getting better at filling in the missing pieces.  Merely understanding how the magic field worked was helpful, as it explained precisely where the power came from.  I rather thought Magister Niven would have been proud of me.  I was no longer taking anything I read in books for granted.

And yet, we haven’t had any time to talk, I thought.  Questioning Assumptions, at least, was a class I could take with the rest of the year, but Magister Niven and I hadn't found time to talk afterwards.  I’d been too busy with potions and forging.  What will he tell me when we do?

I put the notebook aside and tried to think.  It was fairly easy to measure a person’s magical potential, but harder - a great deal harder - to measure the level of ambient power in the surrounding air.  The only way to measure the magic field, as far as I could tell, was to draw on it ... which would obviously drain it.  I wasn't about to go around casting energy-intensive spells, even if I could.  It would just make matters worse.  I was starting to think that measuring magic was like trying to measure oxygen by breathing.  And yet, there had to be some way of proving the field’s existence.  Tyros had done it, after all.

He could have written that down, I told myself.  It would have been far more useful than self-pitying whining!

I shook my head in annoyance.  That was unfair.  Tyros had had excellent reason to make sure he never wrote the details down.  He’d done everything in his power to make sure that the first person to read his manuscript was a fellow Zero, but no one knew more than I just how unreliable magic became as the spellforms started to wear out.  His spells had lasted nearly a thousand years, yet ...

Perhaps if I rig up a set of runic diagrams and carve them into a disc, I thought.  There actually was a children’s toy that did something like it, one I suspected had been designed more to irritate parents and nursemaids than entertain children.  Something that will react to the magic without using it.

I scribbled down a handful of notes without taking any time to parse them out.  I’d go through them later and sort out the gold from the dross.  Water could go through a waterwheel without being drained - and a waterwheel could be used to measure the water’s speed and pressure - and I thought I could measure the magic field in the same way.  The real question was what happened to the magic after it was turned into a spell.  Was the power gone forever or did it merely blur back into the background?

The door opened.  I looked up, expecting to see Rose.  Instead, Isabella stepped into the room.  She’d exchanged her dress uniform for black trousers and a red shirt, the latter clearly designed for someone a little older than she was.  I felt an odd sense of kinship, knowing precisely what my mother would have said if she’d seen me wearing anything like it.  Isabella’s mother would probably have the same reaction.  I’d never formally met Lady Jeannine Rubén - I’d only seen Isabella’s mother a couple of times - but I’d heard she was snootier than Great Aunt Stregheria.  If that was true, and it was hard to believe, it was quite an accomplishment.

I glared.  “What do you want?”

Isabella looked back at me, evenly.  “You’re not the only one who has permission to leave the dorms during this ... trying time.”

“And who gave you permission to leave?”  I demanded.  “I’m sure no one wants you running around ...”

“You’re the one who asked me to accompany her to pick up the food,” Isabella said, sweetly.  “Or do you happen to believe that only you are special enough to get special treatment?”

Her smile grew wider.  “You and your sister are really very much alike.”

I gritted my teeth.  “Alana and I are nothing alike!”

“Oh, you are,” Isabella said.  “You are both used to claiming privileges.”

“Get out,” I ordered.

Isabella mocked me.  “I didn't realise that this was your workroom,” she said, waving a hand to encompass the giant chamber.  “Is that your playhouse in the corner?”

I followed her gaze, trying to put a lock on my temper.  Someone - one of the upperclassmen, perhaps - had designed and built a miniature wooden house.  It was big enough to look impressive, but too small to be anything other than a child’s playhouse.  I didn't think it was designed for anyone over seven or eight years old.  I wasn't even sure why Magister Tallyman had allowed it to be built in the first place.  It was just too out of place.

A mere carpenter could have put it together, I thought.  There was something slapdash about it that reminded me of the box I’d made.  Unless it has a hidden purpose ...

I dismissed the thought.  “Fine,” I growled.  “Just don’t come too close to my workbench.”

“Perish the thought,” Isabella said.  “But is it your workbench?”

“It's where I’m working,” I told her.  It was hard to keep my voice even.  “And you have been told not to go too close to my work.”

I looked up at her.  “You remember the explosion that nearly killed me and Rose?  That happened because Rose stepped too close to the potion.”

Isabella opened her mouth, probably to make a snide remark about me not working on a potion, then closed it again.  I watched her walk around the workbenches, careful to keep well clear of my workplace, and head into the backroom.  The clatter of rattling pieces of wood and metal echoed back to me before she emerged, carrying her current project.  It looked like an oversized dispeller.  I thought it was a workable design, but it was just too big to be practical.  It was nearly a third of her size.

“That isn't going to be very effective.”  I couldn't resist a jibe.  “You’ve put in too many lines of power.”

“But that will compensate for the standard anti-dispeller spells,” Isabella pointed out.  “The extra redundancy will keep the spells from being overwhelmed.”

“Maybe,” I said.  “You’re taking a chance, though.”

Isabella huffed and placed her project on the workbench.  I studied it as she turned to collect her tools, careful not to go too close.  The design was better than I’d expected, for someone who hadn't taken her forging lessons seriously before she’d gone to Jude’s.  I supposed it would work, if she was careful where she used it.  A simple transfiguration spell wouldn't stand up to the dispeller, but a house ward might pump back enough power to make the dispeller explode.  Or ... she knew, as well as I did, that there were quite a few spells to break Devices of Power.  There were limits to just how far she could scale up the compensator concept without the whole Device of Power collapsing under its own weight.

She should have asked Akin for help, I thought.  I was sure she would sooner have gone home and admitted failure than ask me for help.  He’d be able to simplify the whole thing.

I turned back to my notebook, feeling torn.  I wanted to get changed, then get to work, but I didn't want to leave the workroom while she was present.  I wasn't even sure I could leave the workroom.  There was a good chance, technically, that I was supposed to supervise Isabella as she worked.  I was Magister Tallyman’s assistant ... maybe, just maybe, the only reason she’d got permission to come to the workroom was because I was already there.

And I’m certainly not changing in front of her, I told myself.  And if I ask her to leave ...

I agonised for a long moment - if I asked her to leave, she would certainly file a complaint - and then reached for another ancient manuscript.  Magister Tallyman had had them all copied, something that left me unsure if I should be pleased everyone could read them or concerned about what the copying process might have left out.  I’d seen a handful of really old manuscripts where the writing - and little diagrams - in the margins had been more important than the text.  Who knew?  Someone could have encoded his work and hidden the key somewhere in his notes to pose an interesting challenge for his successors.

Because they liked messing with our minds, I thought.  Or because they wanted to make us figure out where they were coming from before allowing us to learn their secrets.

Isabella worked in silence, her head bent over her work.  I was surprised and not a little suspicious.  Normally, I would have expected her to be snapping and snarling at me.  She couldn't be that worried about the mocks, could she?  I doubted she’d fail.  The worst that would happen was that she’d be told she needed to work harder to prepare for the real exams.

She looked up and saw me.  “Don’t you have something better to do with your time?”

“I have to keep an eye on you,” I said, partly because it was true and partly because I knew it would get under her skin.  “You’re working very hard.”

“And you’re not working at all.”  Isabella sneered at me.  “Aren't you meant to be forging a flying machine?”

“I think trying to forge it here would be a mistake,” I said.  I was fairly sure I could forge a second flying machine - or at least the Object of Power that had made my original framework fly - but I didn't want to experiment at Jude’s.  “It would be better to do it in the countryside.”

“Where you might land in a tree if something went wrong,” Isabella pointed out.  “Why don’t you forge a teleport gate instead?”

I shrugged.  There was no way I could forge a teleport gate.  I didn't even understand the equations behind teleport gates.  What few details had survived the empire’s fall hadn't been too clear.  I was fairly sure we were missing pretty much everything.  But I wasn't about to admit that to her.  She’d be pleased to hear there was something I couldn't do.  I ...

The school shook, violently.  I tensed, unsure which way to jump, as a handful of glowing light crystals exploded, pieces of crystalline debris raining down on the floor.  I ducked under the workbench, instinctively, as a couple more crystals shattered.  Isabella appeared under her own bench, her face taut and worried.  I forced myself to think, hard.  One of the wardstones we’d emplaced under the school over the last two days wasn't too far away.  It must have exploded.  I had known it was just a matter of time before something blew.

I crawled out into the suddenly dim workroom as soon as I was fairly sure there wasn't going to be a third set of tiny explosions.  The power distribution network must have taken a beating too, now the wardstone was gone.  Or ... I frowned as I realised I might well be completely wrong.  If the wardstone was gone, everything should have gone.  We should have been plunged into darkness.  Instead, several crystals were still glowing.

A nasty thought struck me.  “Isabella ... cast a spell.”

Isabella frowned and cast a spell.  A glowing ball of light sprang into existence, growing brighter and brighter as it rose into the air.  I sagged in relief as I turned towards the closed door.  The magic hadn't gone!  We hadn't lost everything ...

“Cat,” Isabella said.  “Take off your protections.”

I stopped, then turned back to her.  She was pointing a spellcaster at me.  I didn't recognise the design, although it was fairly clear it wasn't one of mine.  It was far too crude to be an Object of Power.  She held something else in her other hand, a Device of Power I didn't recognise.  And ...

She jabbed the spellcaster at me.  “Take off your protections.”

“What?”  It was a struggle to speak.  “What are you saying ...?”

Isabella stepped forward.  “I’m telling you to take off your protections,” she said, coldly.  The tip of the spellcaster began to glow.  “And I’m telling you to do it now.”

I stared at her in disbelief.  Was she mad?  She could cast spells at me all day with that spellcaster and they’d just break apart when they touched my protections.  Did she expect me to just take off my protections and let her hex me?  What was she doing?  What was she thinking?  My mind raced.  Isabella wasn't stupid, so clearly she had something in mind ... but what?

“I don’t think so,” I said.  My hand dropped to my own spellcaster.  “What are you doing?”

Isabella jabbed the spellcaster at me.  A hex lashed out, only to shatter in a burst of light as soon as it struck me.  I yanked my own spellcaster from my belt as she fired useless hex after useless hex at me, doing nothing more than blinding me for a second or two as the spells disintegrated.  She ducked the spell I sent back at her, but it was just a matter of time until I got her.  We both knew I was the stronger ...

... And it was suddenly very hard to breathe.

I gasped for air, unsure of what was happening.  My lungs were working, but ... there was no air.  Isabella snickered as my hand went to my throat, half-expecting to feel something preventing the air from reaching my lungs.  My other hand seemed to spasm, completely against my will.  The spellcaster clattered to the floor as my legs buckled, leaving me falling to the ground.  My lungs were burning ...

“Well,” Isabella said, as my vision began to blur.  I heard footsteps, all around me.  “Not so clever after all, are you?”

And then the darkness reached up and swallowed me.

Chapter Thirty-One

My head hurt.  My throat hurt.  My eyes ...

I forced my way back to wakefulness slowly, struggling against a tempest that threatened to drag me back down into the darkness.  My body felt ... numb.  No, it had feelings, but they were blurred.  I felt as if I wanted to be sick, yet I couldn't be sick.  There was a foul taste in my mouth that I wanted to spit out, but ... my jaw refused to work properly.  And I was in darkness ... it took me longer than it should have done to realise, in my dull state, that my eyes were closed.  I had to fight to remember how to open them.

“Well,” a voice said.  A very familiar voice.  “I’m glad to see you’re awake.”

I shrugged, trying to focus my mind.  There might be worse people to see when waking up than Great Aunt Stregheria, but I couldn't think of any.  Even Carioca Rubén would be preferable.  She was standing in front of me, her arms crossed under her breasts.  Her dark eyes were alight with cold amusement, but her vulture-like face was otherwise impassive.  I couldn't shake the feeling that she was very - very - pleased with herself.

“You can try to move, if you like,” Great Aunt Stregheria told me.  “But you’ll find it quite futile.”

She was right.  I could move my head, barely, but everything below the neckline was frozen by magic.  No wonder I felt so odd.  Different parts of my body were moving at different rates.  I couldn't feel my bracelet or earrings or any of the other Objects of Power I’d forged to protect myself.  Someone must have searched me, thoroughly, before I’d recovered.  The taste in my mouth suggested they’d dosed me with potion too.

I glanced around the room, trying to put off the moment when I’d have to look at her face again.  It was a bare room, probably a storage compartment ... although it was large enough to serve as a workroom in a pinch.  Someone had stripped the room bare of everything that might be useful, then drawn magical geometric diagrams on the stone floor.  I was standing in the centre of the diagrams, held firmly in place by magic.  Someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to keep me prisoner.

“Pay attention,” Great Aunt Stregheria said, sharply.

I swallowed, hard.  My mind refused to process what I was seeing.  Someone had attacked the school and kidnapped me - again - while the Crown Prince and most of the city’s aristocracy were in residence.  I couldn't wrap my head around it.  They had to be out of their minds.  And Great Aunt Stregheria had betrayed the entire family ...

It was hard to speak.  “What have you done?”

“Taken power,” Great Aunt Stregheria told me.  “The power I was denied when your father was a little boy.”

“You’ve committed treason,” I said.  The concept was horrific.  A House War was one thing - and I was suddenly sure I knew how all those rumours had started - but actually attacking the Crown Prince and his Household Troops?  How had she done it?  The troops would be skilled magicians in their own right ... I stared at her in horror as the pieces fell into place.  “You and the Crown Prince have committed treason!”

Great Aunt Stregheria shrugged.  “Henry feels that it is time for him to take the throne,” she said, calmly.  “And I tend to agree with him.”

“And so you provoked the House War,” I said.  I hadn’t been able to understand how our enemies had managed to slip a blasting curse through our defences.  I did now.  Great Aunt Stregheria had carried the weapon into the hall.  “You wanted everyone fighting so the Crown Prince had a chance to step in and invade the city in the name of order.”

“By now, his troops occupy every strategic point in the city,” Great Aunt Stregheria said.  I could hear the gloating in her tone.  “And all of the key players in Magus Court are here, trapped along with their children.  There’s no one left outside to organise further resistance.”

I found it hard to believe.  She was lying, right?  Everyone said that Crown Prince Henry was a good son.  King Rufus trusted him.  I found it hard to believe that Henry would turn on his own father.  I would sooner shave my head and go into exile than betray my family.  But Great Aunt Stregheria clearly had betrayed her family ... even though I knew her to be one of the true grand dames.  If she could betray us, why not Crown Prince Henry?

“It was you,” I said, slowly.  She’d tried to foster me, only a few short months ago.  “You had me kidnapped.”

Great Aunt Stregheria nodded, shortly.  “Yes.”

I stared at her.  “Why?”

“Which answer would you like?”  Great Aunt Stregheria started to pace the room, walking around behind me.  “I could give you several.”

I tried to follow her with my eyes, but it was hopeless.  She moved in and out of my blindspot as if she was permanently trying to keep me guessing which way she would go.  I felt my neck start to ache as I tried to relax against the unseen restraints, unsure how long they’d last while holding me.  The design she’d drawn on the floor was a good one, judging by what little I could see of it.  I was fairly sure it would hold the magic in place for hours.  And I would never be able to cast a simple countering cantrip.

“The truth,” I said.

“They’d all be true,” Great Aunt Stregheria said.

She walked back around to the front and stood, her feet nearly touching the chalk.  I hoped she’d smudge the diagram, just a little, but she was too experienced to do that.  And even if she did ... I felt naked, even though she’d left my clothes untouched.  If I somehow broke free, she would have no trouble stopping me in my tracks.  I’d seen her cast spells so quickly that they were on their way before their targets even knew they were under attack.

“You should understand, you know,” Great Aunt Stregheria said.  Her voice was reflective, rather than angry.  “Back when I was a young woman, your father’s age ...”

“Back when the terrible lizards ruled the world,” I said.

Great Aunt Stregheria jabbed a finger at me.  A stringing hex flashed towards me and struck my face.  I screamed in pain as fire ants ran over my skin, flickering and fading as they fell below the neckline.  Great Aunt Stregheria smirked at me as I blinked away tears, the pain slowly fading into the background.  I glared at her, not daring to say a word.  I suppose I shouldn't have been too surprised.  A woman like Great Aunt Stregheria would never lower herself to actually strike a child, not when she could just hex them instead.  I blinked away tears as it dawned on me, again, that I was helpless.  The last year might as well never have happened as far as I was concerned.

“I do trust you are going to be polite from now on, little girl,” Great Aunt Stregheria said, in the sort of tone that would be reserved for a toddler.  “Your parents can no longer protect you.”

I gritted my teeth.  “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes, My Lady,” I managed, feeling humiliated.  “I will be polite.”

“Glad to hear it,” Great Aunt Stregheria said.  “Little girls should be seen, but not heard.”

She eyed me for a long moment, daring me to say something - anything - that would give her an excuse to hex me again.  I kept my mouth firmly closed.  I’d learnt my lesson.  I could do nothing, now.  I’d have to wait until I had a chance to break free and then ... and then what?  I knew she knew how I’d escaped the first time.  This time, she would have learnt from her crony’s mistakes.

“As I was saying, when I was so rudely interrupted, I was a young woman once,” Great Aunt Stregheria said.  Her voice was almost a hiss.  “I should have been the next in line to be Matriarch.  I had the power, I had the skill, I had the experience and contacts and everything else needed to make an impression in society.  I would have taken the house to heights beyond your imagination!

“But the council said no.  Can you imagine it?  They said no!”

I carefully resisted the urge to point out that the family council appeared to have made the right call, even though I didn't think too highly of most of them.  They might have worried about what my existence meant for the family bloodline, to the point where I suspected some of them had urged my father to have me dispatched to a distant estate and written out of the family tree, but otherwise ... they’d definitely been right to reject the thought of Matriarch Stregheria.  Dad had his faults, yet he always had the well-being of the family at heart.  I didn't think anyone could say that about Great Aunt Stregheria.

She kept talking, the words hissing out in a stream of fury.  She’d wanted to rant for a long time, I realised.  Great Aunt Stregheria had no one to talk to, no one she could trust enough to listen while she vented without using what she said against her.  Even I had been able to vent to Rose ...

“They told me I didn't have children,” she said.  “They told me I lacked perspective!  They told me ...”

She ran her hand through her hair.  “They just had no vision!”

I kept my thoughts to myself.  It was hard to imagine Great Aunt Stregheria as a young woman, but she’d always been magically powerful and very well connected.  The cynic in me insisted that she should have had no trouble at all finding a match, a husband who valued her connections enough to overlook her personality.  She would hardly be the first grand dame who had a couple of children and palmed them off on the maids or the rest of the family while she plotted to improve her social standing.  The young Stregheria must have been truly awful if no suitable young man was prepared to marry her.

“They skipped my generation altogether, just to make sure I couldn't rise to power,” Great Aunt Stregheria told me.  “Your father” - she practically spat the word - “was too young for the role.  I told them he was too young!  And yet, they elected him in my place!”

“It wasn't your place,” I said.  “You had to earn it.”

I frowned.  Alana might be Heir Primus, but that was no guarantee of becoming Matriarch.  Besides, I didn't think Great Aunt Stregheria had ever been Heir Primus in her own right.  There would have been others who had a claim to the post too.  Perhaps that had been why her entire generation had been skipped.  The family council had wanted to put an end to their quarrels.

Great Aunt Stregheria swung around and threw another hex at me.  It struck my chest, sending shivers up and down my spine.  Ironically, the freeze spell she was using to keep me in place had cancelled out the worst of the effects.  I hoped that wouldn't catch up with me when the spell finally broke.  The last thing I needed was to be doubled over, gasping for breath, when I needed to be making a break for freedom.

“It was my place, you little brat,” she snapped.  “How can you possibly understand?”

She glared at me, then resumed her rant.  “I told them - hah, I told them - that your mere existence was proof they’d elected the wrong man!  A powerless brat!  Hah!  That showed him, didn't it?  And then you discovered the truth behind your talents ... and the idiot refused to make use of you!  He even resisted my suggestions that you should start forging weapons for the House War!  You’re his favourite, you know.  Even before he discovered what you were, even before he knew you could be useful, you were his favourite.”

The thought warmed me, even though I knew everything she told me needed to be treated with the greatest suspicion.  Was I my father’s favourite?  I wanted to believe it.  And that, I knew, was dangerous.  Dad had warned me, time and time again, to be wary of wanting to believe something.  My feelings would put their thumb on the scales.

“Your mere existence is an opportunity,” Great Aunt Stregheria said.  “And it is one I will take advantage of!  You will help Henry and I claim the kingdom, then reunite the Empire under our rule.  You will be our ace in the hole.”

I stared at her.  “I won’t help you.  And you can't make me.”

Great Aunt Stregheria looked back at me, evenly.  “You’re being stupid, young lady,” she said.  “It doesn't suit you.”

“I ...”

She spoke over me.  “You’re quite right on one thing.  I can't use compulsions to make you do what I want.  There is that, I suppose.  But I can simply have you beaten, time and time again, until you can't even think of defying me.  And I can have you supervised by Tallyman, once he’s been properly ... treated.  He will spot any tricks you might use to try to escape.  And besides--” she met my eyes “--where would you go?”

I felt cold.  Where would I go?  Last time, I’d had a clear destination in mind; now, my home was occupied and ... and where could I go?  Tintagel?  By the time I escaped, King Rufus might have been dethroned.  There would be no safety there for me.  Or perhaps somewhere further away?

“You’re mad,” I mumbled.  “You can't take the entire world!  I studied history.  How many wars did we fight before realising that no country could gain a decisive advantage?”

“That was when we were evenly matched,” Great Aunt Stregheria reminded me.  “But with Objects of Power in our hands, the wars will be short, sharp and victorious.”

“No,” I said.

Great Aunt Stregheria held up her hand, as if she was going to hex me again, then stopped herself.  “I’ll make you a deal,” she said.  “If you work with me openly, without trying to escape or do anything that might damage our plans, Henry and I will see to it that you are treated very well.  You’ll be well-fed, you’ll have a workroom to yourself ... you can even have luxuries I wouldn't give to my daughters.”

“I feel sorry for your daughters,” I said.

She clenched her fist.  For a moment, I thought she was actually going to hit me.  It had been a very low blow.  Women like her were expected to have children and Great Aunt Stregheria had none.  And then she took a long breath and calmed down.  I was oddly impressed.  There weren't many people who could banish their anger so smoothly.

“I’ll see to it that your parents and siblings survive,” she added, coolly.  “They’ll have to be ... treated ... of course, but they’ll be alive.  They can even live with you.  I’m sure your parents will be happier without needing to worry about running the family.  I’ll even throw in your little friends too.  Being my personal forger doesn't have to be bad.”

I stared at her for a long moment.  “You’d do that to your own flesh and blood?”

Great Aunt Stregheria looked back at me.  “Have there never been times when you have wanted to bring the whole system crashing down?”

Whirlpool, I thought.  I’d built the components, without putting them together.  But I could ... if I wanted to.  And then everything within range would come crashing down.  There had been times, during the dark nights, when I’d wanted to fire it up and take the magic away for good.  Are we really that different?

I considered the thought, then dismissed it.  I had supplies, tools and more instruction books than I had space on my bookshelves.  I could have built a real Frogmaker ... or a Wand of Compulsion or a Crown of Sharona or ... I could have forged enough Objects of Power to do real damage.  It wouldn’t have been that hard to forge an Object of Power that would turn my sisters into my adoring slaves ... or simply take the magic away.  I could have ...

But I hadn't.  I hadn't done anything like that, had I?

“We are not the same,” I said.  “I won’t help you.”

“Yes, you will,” Great Aunt Stregheria said.  “I’ll be back for you when the rest of the project is completed.”

She turned and walked to the door.  I called out to her before she could open it.

“What ... what did you do to Isabella?”

Great Aunt Stregheria turned and smiled at me.  “Isabella, too, has been cruelly deprived of her birthright by her family council,” I said.  “It was easy to convince her to join me.  I think she’ll take my place, when I die.  By then, I will be the unquestioned ruler of the only remaining Great House.  The others will be absorbed into mine.”

“You’re mad,” I said.

“We shall see,” Great Aunt Stregheria said.  “Once we have taken over the kingdom, we'll revisit the question.”

“You couldn’t have planned all this,” I said, desperately.  “How could you have known about me?  Or the sword?”

“I didn't,” Great Aunt Stregheria admitted.  “But I know the difference between your father and I.  For all of his intelligence, and he is a very smart man, he’s very bad at reacting to new situations.  While I, on the other hand, am quick to understand how they can be exploited to further my goals.”

She smiled at me.  “Oh, and one other thing?  You can't leave this room.  The door is locked.”

I glared at her.  She cackled - I swear she cackled - and walked out of the room, closing and locking the door behind her.  I was alone ...

... And hopelessly trapped.

Chapter Thirty-Two

For a long moment, I just stood there, tears prickling at the corner of my eyes.

It felt like a nightmare.  Great Aunt Stregheria couldn't have betrayed the entire family, could she?  I’d known she had her disagreements with my father and the family council, but she was still one of us.  She couldn't have betrayed us.  It was the worst possible crime in the entire city.  A betrayer wouldn’t just be disowned, she’d be outlawed.  Every man’s hand would be turned against her.  No one would ever trust her again.

And yet ... I didn't want to believe what she’d told me, but it made sense.  She wanted power and she didn't have much time left to seize it.  She certainly had the ability to train Fairuza and a handful of other unknown magicians, people who didn't feel as though they fitted into Shallot.  Even Isabella ... my heart wrenched as I realised just how thoroughly Great Aunt Stregheria must have twisted her.  She wanted power too, power that had been denied her for no good reason.  And Great Aunt Stregheria had seen opportunity and moved in for the kill.

She must have been the one spreading rumours, I thought, grimly.  And, all the while, Great Aunt Stregheria’s agents were triggering the House War.

My mind raced.  Was Great Aunt Stregheria telling the truth about the Crown Prince?  It seemed unbelievable.  And yet ... everyone said how loyal the Crown Prince was to the King, but I knew as well as anyone that many stories barely contained more than a gram of truth, if they contained any truth at all.  If the Crown Prince had his resentments too ... Great Aunt Stregheria could have worked on that, slowly convincing him to work with her.  She would have done it to me too, I was sure, if she’d been allowed to foster me.  She might even have succeeded.

Panic yammered at the back of my mind.  I couldn’t see how seizing Shallot would lead to the Crown Prince displacing his father, but that didn't mean he couldn't see a way.  Or ... Dad had talked about younger members of a family acting in ways their Patriarch could disown, if they failed.  The Crown Prince’s real objective might be to bring Shallot firmly under his father’s control, rather than either taking the crown for himself or handing the city over to Great Aunt Stregheria.  No doubt each of them was already planning to betray their partner in crime.  I wouldn't have trusted Great Aunt Stregheria as far as I could throw her and I rather suspected the prince felt the same way.

I have to get out of here, I told myself.  But how?

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down and think.  The spell Great Aunt Stregheria had used was complex - freezing everything below the neckline was harder than freezing my entire body - but that wasn't a bad thing.  A complex spell would eat up power quicker than a simple spell.  And yet, she’d also used Casting Chalk to lock the spell in place.  It wouldn't endure indefinitely, but it would definitely endure for several hours.

She couldn't have known what I am, I thought.  She couldn't have known.  My talents must have surprised her as much as they’d surprised everyone else.  I had no doubt she would have kidnapped me long ago if she’d known what I could do.  And yet, she knows enough to devise ways to compensate for my talents ...

Despair threatened to overcome me.  Great Aunt Stregheria hadn't tied me up with ropes or chains, but she might as well have done.  She was taunting me, putting me in a trap that wouldn’t endure for long ... yet would endure long enough for her to finish securing the entire city.  And then she could work on me at leisure.  I told myself I wouldn't give in to her, but I knew better.  A combination of compulsion spells and potions - or simple beatings - would break me eventually.  I had to escape.

I shuddered, the sensation stopping - as always - at the neckline.  I wondered, absently, how Great Aunt Stregheria had compensated for the sudden loss of circulation.  Perhaps the spell merely inhibited voluntary movement, rather than freezing me in place.  But I couldn't feel anything below the neckline ... what had she done?  I turned the problem over and over in my mind, trying to distract myself from the awful reality.  I was trapped and ...

My blood ran cold.  I was alone.  No one knew where to find me, even if they were looking.  I wasn't even sure I was still in the school!  Great Aunt Stregheria could have kept me unconscious for days, with the proper potions.  Why not?  Fairuza had done it and I was sure Great Aunt Stregheria had read her reports very carefully.  She certainly wouldn't make the same mistakes.  I’d be watched by fully-trained magicians when I was moved to her forge and put to work.

A thought struck me.  If I could disturb the Casting Chalk ... it didn't seem possible, not when I couldn't move my lower body, but ... the idea refused to go away.  I gritted my teeth, trying to think of something a little more practical.  If I couldn’t move my body ... it hit me in a flash of inspiration.  I could blow out, as hard as I could, towards the chalk.  It might not be enough to blow away the lines on the floor, but if it disturbed a little of the chalk it might weaken the spell.  And besides, I couldn't think of anything else.  I blew and blew, as hard as I could, unsure even how my lungs were still working.  Perhaps Great Aunt Stregheria had invented a whole new way to keep people from moving.  If she combined two separate spellforms ...

The chalk shifted, just slightly.  I blew and spat, wishing - not for the first time - that I could actually feel the magic.  A real magician would probably have deduced how the spell actually worked by now, although he'd also be trapped for longer.  Great Aunt Stregheria wouldn't have forgotten to ensure that the victim would find it hard - perhaps impossible - to cast a counterspell of his own.  One of the reasons it had taken so long for people to start believing the rumours about me was that very few other magical children could escape freeze spells and transfigurations too.

I blew ... and the spell collapsed.  I tumbled to the ground, thrashing about helplessly as my muscles spasmed violently.  She had locked them in place, then.  Dust billowed up around me as I destroyed the remainder of the runic diagram, trying not to cry out in pain.  If there was someone outside the door ... I rolled over, dimly aware that I was getting chalk on my dress clothes.  Mum would not be amused.  But I would happily listen to a lecture from her if it meant seeing her again.  She was a prisoner too.

Despondency threatened to overcome me, again, as I forced myself to my feet.  Great Aunt Stregheria hadn't kidnapped me, this time.  She - and the Crown Prince - had kidnapped practically everyone of importance in Shallot.  It was proof, if I’d needed it, that the Crown Prince was involved.  Great Aunt Stregheria would have to be completely insane to pick a fight with the Great Houses and the King unless she had some very powerful allies on her side.  I still didn’t know how the Crown Prince intended to take his father’s throne, but it didn't matter.  He had to be stopped.

I looked at my wrist, where the bracelet should have been.  It was gone, along with everything else I’d made to protect myself.  Even the garter was gone.  I was more surprised she’d let me keep my hairpins than that she’d stripped me of everything useful.  Great Aunt Stregheria was hardly likely to let me keep an Object of Power.  I felt naked without them, unable to do so much as defend myself.  A seven-year-old child could stop me in my tracks.  I wondered, sourly, what she was doing with them.  They wouldn't be that much use to a magician unless she didn't mind giving up her power for the duration.

My legs screamed in protest as I staggered over to the door.  I told them to be quiet, all too aware that my breathing was far too loud.  If there was someone on the other side of the door, he might well have realised that something had happened ... but he hadn't come bursting into the room.  That was a good sign, wasn’t it?  My protections were gone.  Someone could have opened the door, cast a wide-angled freeze spell, and then casually returned me to the chalk trap.  Or simply tied me up ...

... But no one came bursting into the room.  I couldn't hear anything on the far side, not even someone breathing.  It was hard to escape the sense that someone was listening for me, as intently as I was listening for him, but ... I thought I was imagining it.  A guard would hardly wait for me to try to force open the door before stopping me, would he?  A grown man might have reason to fear Alana or Isabella, but not me.

I studied the lock, torn between hope and fear.  It was simple, too simple.  A common blacksmith could have forged it - I’d forged similar locks myself - and almost any magician could have unlocked it with a simple spell.  I didn't think anyone had intended it to actually do more than indicate that the door was meant to be kept closed.  A real lock required a great deal more effort. But I couldn't see any runes carved into the metal.  The lock was little more than a joke to a magician.

But she left it there because she knew I couldn't cast an unlocking cantrip, I thought.  I couldn't resist a smirk.  It never occurred to her that I didn't need magic to unlock a magic-less door.

I pulled the hairpin out of my braid, straightened it out and knelt down in front of the keyhole.  Sweat ran down my back as I carefully pressed it into the keyhole, feeling for the innards.  The lock didn’t look as though it demanded a complex key - it was rare to see a magic-less lock designed to be complex - but it was still far from easy to pick it.  If someone was on the far side, they might hear the scratching ...

The lock clicked.  I opened the door, fist raised.  I’d only have a second to hit the person on the far side, if there was a person on the far side.  They’d presumably be trained to cast spells first and ask questions later.  But ... there was no one waiting for me.  I was in the middle of a long corridor, probably somewhere on the lower levels.  The lighting was dim - a handful of light crystals had exploded, leaving shards of glass on the floor - worrying me more than I cared to admit.  If the power distribution network had started to fail, it would do immense damage to the school.  I didn’t want to think about what might happen if the protective wards in the storerooms failed.  There were quite a few volatile potions ingredients that should never be allowed to mix.

I listened, carefully.  There was a faint whining sound in the air, something I couldn't place, but nothing else.  I had to be at the very lowest levels, perhaps ... right down at the bottom of the school.  I remembered the stories about upperclassmen having hidey-holes in the disused sections and shivered.  Great Aunt Stregheria had convinced Rolf and his friends to help her.  She’d presumably had enough access to the school to set up a hidey-hole of her own.

If we get out of this, we are really going to have to fix the wards, I thought, grimly.  Or build a whole new school.

My lips twisted at the thought as I started to walk along the corridor, feeling uncomfortably exposed.  I’d forgotten just how much I’d come to rely on my spectacles - and everything else I’d forged - until it was too late.  I knew, all too well, that I might walk into a trap and get caught before I had the merest hint of its existence.  I’d grown used to watching for signs my sisters had hexed my chair - or something worse - but here ... I was up against adult magicians.  Who knew how well they could hide their traps?

I wanted to stop, to run and hide, but I knew I had to keep going.  There would be nowhere safe for me, if Great Aunt Stregheria and the Crown Prince won.  They’d want to use me for themselves or make sure no one else could use me either.  Great Aunt Stregheria had told me, after all, that the Crown Prince had ambitions that went well beyond merely taking control of the kingdom.  He wanted to re-forge the Thousand-Year Empire.  I wasn't sure he could do it, even with my help, but the carnage he’d unleash would be terrible.  Maxima and Minima would be plunged into a new Dark Age.

I reached a half-hidden stairwell, the entrance hanging open, and hesitated, unsure where to go.  If I went back to the workroom ... I could forge tools to protect myself.  But Great Aunt Stregheria would expect me to go there, wouldn't she?  And yet ... where else could I go?  I remembered the box of Objects of Power I’d given Rose and smiled.  Perhaps, just perhaps, we could use the weapons I’d forged to turn the tables on our captors.

Carefully, very carefully, I inched up the stairs.  The stairwell had been designed for servants, once upon a time; it was narrow and cramped enough to make even a small girl like me feel claustrophobic.  I hated to think what it must have been like for adults to use the dusty stairs regularly.  I reached the dormitory level and slipped along the servant’s corridor, trying to find the hidden door that would lead to the main corridor.  There were a handful of peepholes scattered along the walls, allowing me to glance into the corridor.  I couldn't help wondering why the servants had been allowed to spy on their masters.  Maybe everyone had long since forgotten that the passageways existed.

But I found them, I thought.  I looked at the dust.  It had clearly been disturbed by other footsteps.  And someone else must have found them too.

I put the thought aside as I found the hidden door and examined it carefully.  It was a simple trick, mechanical rather than magical.  I pushed it open and stepped into the main corridor.  Whoever had designed the entrance had hidden it behind a giant portrait of a fat wizard in red robes and pointy hat.  I had to admit it was a neat trick, although hardly one I hadn't seen in the Great Houses.  Perhaps there were concealed charms to make it harder to open from the other side.

Shaking my head, I slipped down the corridor ... and stopped, pressing myself against the stone wall.  Sandy was standing in front of the dorm, her body inhumanly still.  I thought she was frozen for a long moment, then I realised she was breathing.  She was under a geas.  Someone - and it was easy to guess who - had enchanted her.  I’d hoped she could be talked into helping me, but now ... now I knew it wasn’t going to happen.  Even the simplest geas would be hard to remove.

Crap, I thought.  A geas wouldn't last long on me, but Sandy ...?  She’d have problems for weeks to come.  What now?

I slipped back, grimly aware that it was only a matter of time until I ran into someone patrolling the corridors or another upperclassman under a geas.  I needed to get into that dorm!  And yet, there was no other entrance.  The only advantage I had, I thought, was that Sandy literally wouldn't be thinking for herself.  She might react slowly, if she saw me coming, or not react at all.  I would have a chance to hit her, yet ... a simple layered protective charm would be enough to stop me before I could strike.  Merely touching her might be enough to trigger it.  But ...

A protective charm would interfere with the geas, I told myself.  It was true, I thought, but ... it was also what I wanted to believe.  I doubted Great Aunt Stregheria cared enough about Sandy to let her protect herself ... in some ways, the mere presence of the geas was actually reassuring.  Sandy wouldn't be under a spell if Great Aunt Stregheria thought she was a potential ally.  Maybe Great Aunt Stregheria had missed a trick there.  If I get it right ...

I hesitated, then snuck back down towards the corridor as close as I could and threw myself at her.  Sandy whirled with terrifying speed, magic dancing over her fingertips, too late.  My fist slammed into her jaw, knocking her back against the wall.  Her head cracked against the stone, her body crumpling to the ground.  I blanched as I hit the ground myself, ready to evade any spell ... but one wasn't cast.  Long moments passed ... Sandy didn't move.  I nearly panicked.  What if she was dead?

Bracing myself, I checked her pulse.  She was alive.  I sagged in relief, then checked her head.  There was a nasty bump where she’d banged her skull against the wall, but she wasn't bleeding.  Hopefully, being knocked out would break the spell.  Some of the strongest compulsion spells known to magicians could be defeated if the victim was knocked unconscious.  I hoped Great Aunt Stregheria had used one of them.

“I’m sorry, Sandy,” I muttered.

Standing, I turned and walked into the dorm.

Chapter Thirty-Three

I wasn't sure what I expected to see when I walked into the dorm.  Great Aunt Stregheria wouldn’t have harmed any of the students, I was sure, if only because most of them were connected to the Great Houses.  Hostages tended to lose their value if they were hurt ... assuming, of course, they had any value.  I’d been trying not to think about the fact that Rose had almost no value to anyone, except me.  I didn't want to think about what Great Aunt Stregheria might do to Rose, just to punish me for offending her.

The dorm was packed.  Nearly twenty girls, all firsties, were sitting on the beds or the floor, reading books or playing games.  Other beds were hidden behind their drapes, suggesting that their occupants were trying to sleep.  I spotted Alana and Bella, neither of whom slept in Raven Dorm, sitting next to Rose and Clarian Bolingbroke.  None of the girls looked as if they knew they were hostages.  It occurred to me that they might have been ordered back to the dorms in the wake of the explosion, whatever it had been, then told to wait.  If they didn't know they were under threat, they might not have done anything to escape.

“Cat!”

Rose jumped to her feet and ran to me.  Alana and Bella looked slightly relieved, although I knew better than to expect them to show it in public.  Rose wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly.  I hugged her back, keeping a wary eye out for a hex.  Someone might just decide to ruin the moment, particularly when they didn't know what was at stake.  And then Isabella peeked out from behind her drapes.

I panicked, pushing Rose away.  “Stop her!”

Alana jumped to her feet.  Bella wasn't far behind.  “What happened?”

“The school’s been taken over,” I said.  It was hard, so hard, to think clearly.  Isabella was far too close to me, well within hexing range ... she could silence me easily, if she thought to do it before I could say too much.  “She helped!”

Isabella looked torn between hexing me on the spot and trying to brazen it out.  Ayesha and Zeya McDonald appeared behind her, looking confused.  I swallowed, hard.  Rose would support me - and Bella, perhaps - but who else?  Alana?  It was hard to believe that I was suddenly dependent on my sister.  I braced myself, ready to dodge a spell, as Isabella’s expression hardened.  I didn’t know what - if anything -  the McDonald sisters knew, but it was unlikely they’d abandon Isabella without a very good reason.

“Great Aunt Stregheria and the Crown Prince have taken over the school,” I gabbled, frantically.  “Our parents are hostages too!”

I jabbed a finger at Isabella.  “And she took me hostage!”

Isabella sneered.  “Can't you come up with a better story?  You burst in here and expect us to believe that your Great Aunt is a traitor?”

“And the Crown Prince too,” Zeya added.

I muttered a word that Mum would wash my mouth out with soap for knowing, let alone saying.  The story was hard to believe.  Alana and Bella might believe that Great Aunt Stregheria was as evil as they came - they’d been her victims too - but everyone else only knew her by reputation.  And Crown Prince Henry was practically the living flower of chivalry.  No one would expect him to betray his father.

“She’s clearly delusional,” Isabella announced to the room at large.  “She runs in here with a fantasy ...”

“She came in here late,” I snapped.  It was guesswork, but I was fairly sure Isabella couldn't have gone back to the dorm at once.  I wasn't even sure why she’d been allowed to go back to the dorms.  Unless Great Aunt Stregheria thought Isabella could keep an eye on us ... it did make sense.  Rose, Akin and I had managed to escape an inescapable prison.  “She was sent back here to spy on us!”

“How dare you?”  Isabella’s face reddened.  The others were looking between us, subtly drawing back.  “You wretched ...”

“They said there was an explosion,” Gayle said, carefully.  “We heard it.”

“Then wouldn't they have tried to get you out of the school?”  It was hard, so hard, not to talk down to her.  “Why have they sent you back to the dorms instead?”

“Because there’s a war on?”  Isabella snapped.  “You’re mad!”

I took a breath.  “I’ll swear an oath,” I said, holding one hand in front of my chest.  Surprise rippled through the room like a physical force.  We had all been told - even me - never to even think of swearing an oath until we reached adulthood, when we could consider all the implications of binding ourselves to our word.  No one would swear an oath unless it was deadly serious.  “I swear, by the power ...”

Isabella panicked and jabbed a finger at me.  I ducked a hex that passed over my head and slammed into the wall.  Bella shouted something as Rose threw a hex back at Isabella, a hex that was scornfully deflected by the other girl a moment before she cast a second spell at me.  This time, I wasn't quick enough to dodge.  The world shrank rapidly, my dormmates suddenly becoming towering giants.  Panic rippled through me as I saw my tiny hands and furry arms.  Isabella had turned me into a mouse!

And then everyone was suddenly hexing each other, spells flashing in all directions.  I scampered for the nearest bedside cabinet, trying to hide underneath it as feet crashed down all around me.  Zeya fell backwards, hitting the ground hard enough to hurt; Ayesha threw out a pair of very nasty hexes before someone caught her with a different spell and turned her into a tiny statue of herself.  Alana marched over to Zeya, kicked her in the chest, then cast a freeze spell on her ...

Rose flew across the room, propelled by a locomotion hex.  She barely managed to cancel it, a second before it would have slammed her into the rear wall hard enough to turn her into jelly.  I turned around, searching for Isabella with my mousy eyes; it took me too long to spot her, casting hexes and protective wards in all directions as she ran for the door.  I tried to warn the others to stop her before it was too late, yet the only things that came out of my mouth were squeaks.   She ran through the door, slamming it closed behind her.  I knew it was just a matter of time until she returned with reinforcements.

“Cat,” Rose called.  She sounded badly shaken.  “Where are you?”

I inched my way out of cover and looked up at her.  Rose cast the counterspell, snapping me back to normal.  I hugged her, trying to keep my feelings under control.  Just for a second, I’d been helpless ... a grim reminder of the way things had used to be.  I promised myself, grimly, that I would never let myself fall so far again.  And yet I knew I might be unable to keep that promise.

Alana walked forward.  “Cat, start from the beginning,” she ordered.  “What happened?”

I fought down a flash of rage at being ordered about as if I was a lowly servant.  “Great Aunt Stregheria has taken over the school,” I said, flatly.  “And the Crown Prince is planning to take over the kingdom.”

Gayle didn't look convinced.  “But why would he do that?”

I shrugged, then hastily told the rest of the story as Rose and I pulled the makeshift box out from under her bed.  Someone snickered behind their hand as I put my finger to the clasp, then opened the box to reveal the Objects of Power I’d made.  The pieces of Whirlpool were wrapped in cotton wool, to try to keep them from being contaminated, but I motioned for everyone else to stay back anyway.  I might have to replace some of the components in the workroom before I put the Object of Power together and prepared the spellform ...

And it might be the only way to save the city, I thought, as I tucked the pieces into my rucksack.  The Crown Prince’s men will be skilled magicians as well as warriors.

“But what can we do?”  Amber sounded scared.  I didn't blame her.  One of Isabella’s cutting hexes had come far too close to slicing her face in two.  Someone had cast a healing spell, but Amber really needed medical attention.  I dreaded to think what curses might have been woven into the hex.  “We’re firsties!”

“These bracelets will protect you from spells,” I said.  It wasn't entirely true - I had no idea what Isabella had done to me, a few short hours ago - but it would suffice.  “As long as you wear them, no one - not even the strongest magician in the world - can use magic on you.”

“But we can't use magic while we wear them,” Alana pointed out.  She sounded intrigued, rather than contemptuous.  I supposed it was a nice change.  “They’ll just beat us up.”

I smiled at her.  “Here,” I said, producing the spellcasters.  “These will work even if you’re wearing the bracelets.”

Alana looked nervous.  “Frogmaker?  Frogmakers?”

“Freeze spells,” I said, with a wink.  “And stunners.”

We shared a faint smile, just for a second, as she realised I’d been bluffing earlier.

“The spells will wear off, mostly,” I continued.  “They’ll be difficult for them to counter, but not impossible.  And ... and Great Aunt Stregheria has some of my protections.  It won’t take her long to figure out how to use them to cancel the spells.”

I passed out the bracelets, then the spellcasters.  They might not be as versatile as we might have wished, but they were the only way for us to stand against adult magicians.  Alana was skilled, yet Mum and Dad had never had any trouble showing her that she still had a long way to go.  I wondered, grimly, what would happen if they were struck by one of the spellcaster spells.  Would their defences be able to handle it?

And where are they?  I couldn't think of an answer.  Where would I hold a bunch of hostages who also happen to be dangerously powerful magicians?

“You’ve left the sword in the box,” Rose said, lifting her eyebrows.  “What do you want to do with it?”

“Leave it out of sight,” Alana said, sharply.  “If Great Aunt Stregheria had known it was in the box ...”

“... She would have insisted on giving it to Isabella,” I finished, although I didn't know if that was actually true.  Great Aunt Stregheria had plenty of reason to fear that Isabella might bite the hand that fed her - again.  And the sword was a dangerously powerful weapon.  “We’ll give it to Akin.”

Alana held up a hand.  “Cat ... what if you’re wrong about him?”

“She hasn’t been wrong so far,” Bella pointed out.  “And Akin has every interest in saving his parents too.”

I saw a shadow cross Alana’s face.  If we saved Akin’s parents, the House War would resume once the immediate danger had passed.  But we might need them to survive ... Shallot needed them.  And if Isabella wound up the only true heir to House Rubén, Great Aunt Stregheria might not need to make her domination obvious to make it effective.  Better to have the appearance of dissent than the reality.

“Akin is my friend,” I said, firmly.  “And I trust him.”

Alana and Bella exchanged looks.  I frowned.  “What?”

“Nothing,” Bella said.

“And the sword is a powerful weapon,” I added.  “We need it on our side.”

I closed the box and picked it up, silently grateful I’d put so much effort into weaving charms and spellforms into the wood.  The box might look as if it had been made by a drunken carpenter, but it practically floated in the air.  If nothing else, I could shove it at someone, confident that any blocking charms they used would be ineffective.  And once we got to Akin’s dorm, he could take the sword and we could find a way to save our parents.

“Here’s a different thought,” Clarian Bolingbroke said.  She pointed at Ayesha and Zeya McDonald.  “What do we do with them?”

“Kill them,” Alana suggested.  “They’re traitors.”

I blanched.  “You can't kill them!”

Amber rubbed the mark on her face.  “They were trying to kill us!”

“It needs to be sorted out afterwards,” I said, choosing my words carefully.  I couldn't force them to do as I said.  I had to talk them into doing what I wanted them to do.  “Ayesha and Zeya might not have known what Isabella was doing.  Do you really want to start another House War?”

“They’re on the wrong side of the House War,” Alana pointed out.  “The House War we were already fighting!”

I dug through my toolkit and produced a piece of Casting Chalk.  “Draw the right set of runes around them and they’ll stay out of it until everything is finished,” I said.  Great Aunt Stregheria had taught me one useful trick, after all.  “They can be interrogated after the fighting is over.”

Alana took the chalk and went to work, levitating the McDonald sisters into the backroom and dumping them on the floor.  I kept a wary eye on her, just in case she intended to work something nastier into the runic circles, but I needn’t have worried.  Alana did a good job, without including any curses that would bite the girls when I looked the other way.  I didn't know what would happen to them, afterwards, but I doubted it would be pleasant.  Their families would disown them if there was the slightest hint that they’d been willingly involved in Great Aunt Stregheria’s plans.

“What about the other dorms?”  Bella asked, as we went back into the main room.  The girls were practicing with their spellcasters, alternatively praising their power and cursing their limitations.  “Shouldn't we be trying to alert everyone?”

“Joan and Whisper can go to the rest of the firstie dorms,” Alana said.  “They’re good at alerting people.”

I looked at the two girls.  Alana’s cronies looked very unsure of themselves.  They were good at spreading gossip, not at sounding the alarm.  I felt a moment of pity, which I pushed aside ruthlessly.  The other firsties wouldn't have spellcasters or bracelets, but they would force Great Aunt Stregheria and the Crown Prince to waste time recapturing them.  It might give us time to do something more effective.

“Rose, Alana, Bella and Gayle will come with me,” I said.  Gayle was a competent spellcaster and I wanted Alana where I could see her.  “Everyone else, try to rouse the other dorms.  Just remember, Sandy was under a geas.  The other upperclassmen may be in the same state.”

Clarion snickered.  “You mean we can hex them without having to write a million lines?”

I had to smile.  “I suppose,” I said.  The thought was amusing.  “Just remember, they’re not in their right minds.  They might throw something very dangerous at you.  Don’t play games - just stun or freeze them and then move on.”

“Ouch,” Amber muttered.

“This will be fun,” Alana said.  “I’m going to enjoy it.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Alana, can you bring Sandy inside,” I said, nodding to the door.  “I want to make sure she’s safe before we go.”

“Ah,” Joan said.  She had a nasally voice that put my teeth on edge and a sloppy appearance that made her look oddly washed out.  It was very easy to dislike her at first sight.  “And who put you in charge?”

“She’s the one who told us what’s going on,” Alana said, before I could think of a reply.  “If she hadn't come here, we’d still be unwitting hostages!”

She turned and walked to the door, leaving me staring at her in amazement.  I’d often thought Alana would sooner shave her head than say anything nice about me, let alone back me up in front of her cronies.  But then, I suppose she couldn't let her sister get cut down too.  It would have weakened the family.  I tensed as Alana opened the door, half-expecting her to get hexed by a squad of guardsmen.  Isabella wouldn't have needed long to summon help, would she?  But there was nothing ...

Alana returned, levitating Sandy in front of her.  Sandy looked smaller, somehow, as she was lowered to the bed.  I felt a stab of guilt, mingled with the grim awareness that there had been no choice.  There had been no other way to deal with her.  But if I’d hit her too hard ... I could have done real damage.  Healing skull fractures was well beyond any of us.  I promised myself, grimly, that I’d cheerfully write lines until my wrist fell off if Sandy suffered no ill-effects.  It would be worth the suffering.

“She’s alive,” Alana said, curtly.  “But is she still bespelled?”

I pulled out the dispeller - Great Aunt Stregheria had one of those too, I remembered - and ran it over Sandy’s body.  In theory, any spellforms clinging to her should have been dispelled.  In practice ... I remembered the book about geas spells Dad had told me off for reading and shuddered.  The effects might linger even after the magic itself was removed.

“The geas itself has been destroyed,” I said, after I checked Sandy with the spare set of spectacles.  There was no magic lingering on her body at all.  “But I don’t know if she’s still feeling its effects.”

“Then leave her here to recover,” Alana said, practically.  She examined Sandy’s head gently, pushing her hair aside to check the bump, then shrugged.  “We don’t need to take the risk of waking her up.”

I nodded, lifting the spellcaster in one hand and steering the box with the other.  “Good thinking,” I said, as I led the way to the door.  “Let’s go.  And be very, very, quiet.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

The school was eerily quiet.

I listened, carefully, as we slipped out of the dorm and made our way down the corridor.  The dorms were arranged in a haphazard manner that suggested they had originally been parts of different buildings, before the interior had been torn apart and rebuilt.  The corridors were a jagged maze, making it impossible to guess where an enchanted upperclassman - or a squad of guards - might have been positioned to keep us under control.  It was possible, I supposed, that the armoured guards had put the fear of terrible punishment into us for the last couple of days, but I doubted Great Aunt Stregheria would count on it.  She’d be watching for someone sneaking around out of bounds.

The lights brightened and dimmed, seemingly at random.  Shadows jumped in all directions, making us grab our spellcasters and take aim before realising that it was just a shadow.  The power distribution network must have really taken a beating.  Surely Great Aunt Stregheria would be smart enough to realise it was failing.  She’d probably counted on it, to some extent.  A Great House’s wards could be - and often were - programmed to take out any intruders if they lost touch with the Patriarch.  Jude’s wards didn't have that sort of power.

A terrible oversight, I thought, wryly.  I’d have to fix that, when I had a chance.  Perhaps a more distributed network will save us from losing our magic.

We reached a corner and stopped, then peered around it.  A pair of upperclassmen stood there their faces utterly blank.  They were both under a geas.  I lifted my spellcaster and nodded to Alana, silently counting down to zero.  We moved around the corner as soon as I reached zero, jabbing our spellcasters at the upperclassmen.  They both lifted their hands to hex us, then froze as the spells took effect.  There was no time to knock them on the head, so we just left them there and walked on.

“Akin’s dorm should be just past the crossroads,” Alana muttered.  “They’ll have guards there, surely.”

I nodded in grim agreement.  The crossroads - the massive stairwell that ran right from the very lowest level to the highest - was how most students got down to breakfast every day.  There was no better place to catch someone trying to sneak around, particularly a girl who wanted to sneak into the boy’s dorms or vice versa.  I tightened my grip on the spellcaster, feeling sweat beading on my palms.  It had been so much easier when we’d been trying to escape the ancient building, rather than trying to retake it.

We reached the corner and peered around.  Four men, wearing armour rather than tutor robes or school uniforms, were standing by the entrance to the stairwell, looking around with wary eyes.  One of them saw me and glared, snapping out a command in a language I didn’t recognise.  Another looked up and muttered a spell.  I felt the bracelet grow uncomfortably warm against my skin.  I wasn't sure what he was trying to do, but it was strong.

I stepped around the corner and jabbed the spellcaster at the nearest man.  He froze instantly, toppling over a moment later.  The others barked oaths - including several words that were entirely new to me - and aimed spells at us.  I smirked as the bracelets absorbed the magic, then froze the rest of them before they thought to jump us.  Even the smallest was big enough to tear me apart with his bare hands.

“I don’t recognise their sigils,” Alana said.  She sounded disturbed.  “And what language was he speaking?”

I frowned.  I hadn't recognised it either and I knew three of the six major trade languages.  It made no sense.  The Crown Prince would hardly have recruited his household troops from the border, where loyalties could change on a daily basis.  Even if he had, they’d have spoken our tongue ... wouldn't they?  I found it hard to believe they wouldn’t.  The Crown Prince would certainly not want any room for misunderstandings when he issued orders.

“I don’t know,” I muttered back.  “But we have to hurry.”

There was another upperclassman - I vaguely remembered him as one of my customers, back when I’d been making Objects of Power freely - standing in front of Hawk Dorm.  We froze him on the spot, then left him standing there.  Hopefully, no one would look closely enough to realise that he wasn't even breathing.  I muttered an apology as I walked past, feeling a twinge of guilt.  Leaving him frozen would give the geas a nice opportunity to really sink into his mind.

It can't be helped, I told myself.  We can't risk letting him stop us.

Alana giggled, faintly.  “We’re going to the boys' dorm!”

“Mum will not be pleased,” Bella agreed.

“As long as we see her again,” I reminded them both, sharply.  “And this isn’t fun and games.”

I knocked on the door and waited.  A moment later, it was opened by a boy I vaguely recognised as one of Akin’s friends.  He gaped at us - it occurred to me that we must look a sight - and then waved us inside.  I tensed, half-expecting a charm to stop us in our tracks, but nothing happened.  The boys' dorm looked pretty much the same as the girls' dorm, save for fewer mirrors and more bookshelves.  A handful of boys were sitting on the floor, playing a game that looked to be a combination of Chess and Campaign.  The remainder seemed to be lying on their beds.

“Akin,” our escort called.  “You have guests!”

Akin looked up and stared at us, then jumped off his bed and hurried over to the door.  I felt a moment of pure relief - he wasn't a traitor - even though I knew I’d have to tell him about Isabella.  He wasn't going to like it.  I didn't blame him.  I wouldn't have liked to hear that my sister was a traitor.

“Cat,” he said.  He sounded pleased to see me, although he was clearly also trying to hide it.  “What are you doing here?”

“The school’s under attack,” I said.  We filled him in quickly, outlining everything that had happened since the explosion.  “And ...”

I led him over to the corner and told him about Isabella while the other girls explained things to the rest of the boys.  They seemed more inclined to believe it, much to my relief.  Akin looked as if he didn't want to believe me, although he didn't snap or lash out.  It was very definitely a relief.

“I knew she was angry,” Akin mumbled, when I’d finished.  “But to actually betray the family ...”

“Great Aunt Stregheria betrayed my family too,” I reminded him.  “I think they might not be the only ones, either.”

“But it makes no sense,” a dark-skinned boy said.  His skin was so like mine that I couldn't help wondering if we were related, even though I knew that was probably absurd.  “If the Crown Prince takes Shallot ... what then?  How does he capitalise on that to overthrow his father?”

“He’s committed now,” another boy put in.  “If he loses ... he won’t be smacked and told not to be naughty.  He’ll be executed.”

“Yeah,” the first boy said.  “Even if he gets the entire city on his side, or what’s left of it after the war, he’s still going to be in trouble.”

Akin took a long breath.  “He must know that,” he said.  “He’s been on campaign.  How many of us have been on campaign?”

There was no answer.  I hadn’t expected one.  It wasn't uncommon for young teens to join the army as drummer boys, but they were rarely aristocrats.  I hadn't heard of anyone in my family joining the army at all.  Cousins who wanted to fight were generally streamlined into the family’s armsmen.  It was possible, I supposed, that someone who had been disowned would want a chance to forge a new life in the ranks, but if that had happened I probably wouldn't have heard of it.

“So he has an answer,” the first boy said.  “What is it?”

Akin tapped his fingers against his cheek.  “The Crown Prince has taken Shallot,” he said, slowly.  “That gives him ... what?  It doesn't give him automatic control of our armsmen, does it?  But it does give him control of the harbours.  He can bring in an army of mercenaries and strike north towards Tintagel before the king realises that the kingdom is being invaded.”

I felt my heart sink.  Akin was right.  Normally, the harbours were heavily defended, but our armsmen had been called away to fight in the House War.  And, with the Great Houses cut off from their leaders, resistance would be minimal.  No one would even have a chance to send a message to Tintagel before it was too late.  The king would be unable to mobilise his army in time to save his throne.

Alana said a vile word, loudly enough to make the boys chuckle.  “It’s worse than that,” she said, glaring at the nearest boys.  “He’s bringing in an army from North Cairnbulg.”

“That’s treason,” one of the boys objected.

“He’s already crossed the line,” another boy snapped.  “He can't be executed twice!”

I looked at Alana and knew, with a sickening sensation deep in my chest, that she was almost certainly right.  North Cairnbulg was only a couple of days away by sail, assuming good weather ... the Crown Prince could bring an entire army to Shallot and then strike north before his father even realised there was a problem.  Tintagel might fall without a real fight, giving North Cairnbulg its first real foothold on Maxima.  And then ...

They can unite the two kingdoms under Henry and Saffron, I thought.  Princess Saffron came from North Cairnbulg.  I didn't think she was the firstborn heir, but it was quite possible that the legitimate heir would be put aside to allow Henry and Saffron to succeed the current ruler.  And then, with Objects of Power, they can reunite the empire.

“... Crap,” the first boy said.  “He’s mad!”

“We have to stop them,” I said.  I pushed the box down to the floor and opened it.  “Akin, take the sword.”

Akin hesitated.  “Are you sure?”

“We’re going to need it,” I said.  “Just don’t let Isabella touch it.”

The sword glowed the moment Akin’s fingers wrapped around the hilt.  It was huge, seemingly as tall as Akin himself, but he had no trouble lifting the blade and scabbard out of the box.  The glow grew brighter - and brighter - as he drew the sword and lifted it in the air.  Brilliant radiance flared in all directions.  It looked almost as if the sword was made of light.

I looked at him and almost jumped out of my skin.  Akin looked ... different, somehow.  He was taller and stronger and ... and something.  The sword’s magic was slowly pervading him, preparing him ... I wished, not for the first time, that I’d been able to find a record that talked about the sword’s unique properties.  It might have made it easier to guess what the sword was actually doing to him.  I reached for my spectacles, then stopped myself.  I had the feeling that looking into the sword’s light would blind me.

The light faded, just slightly.  Akin looked to be wearing armour, armour made of light.  His entire body was glowing.  It couldn't be solid, could it?  I wondered just what would happen if someone threw something at him.  Was the sword powerful enough to protect its user by producing a shield of solid magic?

“A knight in shining armour,” Rose whispered.  “Your knight in shining armour.”

I felt my cheeks heat and looked away, even though no one would have noticed.  It was embarrassing and yet ... I looked at Akin, feeling a faint thought nagging at the back of my mind.  Perhaps there was a solution to the House War after all ...

“We have a problem,” one of the boys said.  “How many people will have sensed Akin draw the sword?”

I kicked myself.  The sword was a powerful Object of Power.  I had no magical sensitivity at all, but Great Aunt Stregheria and the Crown Prince were very strong magicians.  They - and many of their followers - would have known the moment the sword was drawn.  The light was fading now as Akin got the sword firmly under control, but it was already too late.  They knew what we’d done.

Maybe Isabella didn’t dare tell them what happened, I thought, feeling a flash of vindictive glee.  Great Aunt Stregheria was going to be furious.  If she turned us into frogs merely for annoying her, what’s she going to do to Isabella?

Akin gritted his teeth, then returned the sword to the scabbard.  I wasn't sure how it fitted into a scabbard that seemed to be smaller than the sword itself. The light blinked out, although the gemstone was still glowing faintly as he buckled the sword to his belt.  I didn't blame him for wanting to keep the scabbard close by.  It was quite possible that it had powers of its own, powers he’d need to use soon.  I just wished we knew more about the sword.  If his father had been with us, I would have demanded answers.  But it was also possible that Carioca Rubén knew no more than his son.

“I brought a handful of spellcasters and protective bracelets,” I said, quickly explaining what they did and how to use them.  “But we can't stay here.”

“Agreed,” Akin said.  “Where are our parents?”

“We don’t know,” Alana said.

“They were dining in the Great Hall,” Bella added.  “But they might have been moved.”

“They’d practically have to be moved,” the first boy said.  “They’re all powerful magicians, right?  Keeping them prisoner isn't going to be easy.  Their mental defences are tough.”

I sucked in a breath.  Great Aunt Stregheria had one of my dispellers.  All she needed to do was use it to dispel every protective spell on my father, then cast a geas before he could recover.  Perhaps she’d knock him out first, just to make sure he couldn’t resist.  It was a sickening thought, a true betrayal of the family ... but Great Aunt Stregheria had already crossed that line once.  I had no doubt she was prepared to cross it again.  She had to come out ahead if she wanted to survive.  There would be no mercy if the family survived her betrayal.

“Maybe,” I said, unwilling to admit to everything.  “We have to hurry.”

“So where do we go?”  Bella asked.  “They’re going to becoming for us!”

Akin looked at the first boy.  “John?  Suggestions?”

John frowned.  “Some of us need to go to the roof,” he said.  “If we’re lucky, we can signal to the Great Houses ...”

“Unless the Great Houses have already fallen,” Alana said.  “They might already be under enemy control.”

I feared the worst.  I’d made wardcrackers for Fairuza, back when I’d been her prisoner.  I had no doubt that Great Aunt Stregheria had kept the weapons, smuggling them back to Shallot while the Crown Prince ran an inquest designed to distract us from the real threat.  In the wrong hands, those wardcrackers could bring down the school ... or Magus Court itself.

“They might,” John agreed.  “Do you have a better idea?”

“Try and sneak out of the school,” Alana said.  “If we can actually get to one of the Great Houses, we might be able to find allies.”

“Unless the Great Houses have already fallen,” John said, dryly.  I wondered, suddenly, just where he’d come from - and if he really was related to us.  Boys who were prepared to argue with Alana were few and far between.   “We’d be walking right into a trap.”

“At least we’d have a better chance to realise that something’s wrong,” Alana said, sharply.  “I don’t think we could tell who’s in charge from a distance.”

“We can do both,” Akin said.  “Some of us go to the roof, others to the ground floor and try to sneak out.  And others go wake up the rest of the dorms.”

“We can't let the girls have all the fun,” another boy piped up.

“It isn’t going to be fun,” I said.  My voice was sharp enough to make everyone jump.  “This isn't a game of Freeze Tag or Pigpen.  This is a battle for our lives, for our families, for our city ... for everything.  And they’re playing for keeps!  If they catch us, they won’t let us off with a warning!”

“Yeah,” Akin agreed.

“I need to go down to the workroom,” I said.  “Akin, you come with me - with us.  Everyone else, do as John says.”

John gave me a wink.  “Thank you.”

“I hear footsteps,” Rose said, sharply.  “We have to move!”

“We’ll hold them off,” John said.  He lifted his spellcaster.  “You go.”

I turned, just as the footsteps grew louder.  A trio of armed men appeared, holding spellcasters in one hand and swords in the other.  I lifted my spellcaster ...

... And Akin ran past me in a blaze of white light.  The men barely had a second to realise what was coming at them before it was already too late.  Akin moved so fast that it looked as though he was a blur, as though the men were standing still.  They fell before him like ninepins, the flat of his sword knocking them to the ground.  They never stood a chance.

By the Ancients, I thought numbly.  No wonder they wanted the sword back.

Akin returned the blade to its scabbard.  “That was ... weird,” he said, softly.  “But I think we’d better go now.”

I glanced at the bodies.  Akin hadn't killed them, somehow ... I wasn't sure how he’d merely stunned them, but he had.  It looked like it would be quite some time before they managed to wake up.

Good, I thought, as I dumped the empty box on the ground.  They won’t wake up until this is all over.

Chapter Thirty-Five

“Cat,” Alana said.  “As long as he keeps the blade sheathed, they shouldn't be able to sense it?  Right?”

I nodded, slowly.  “I think so,” I said.  “But they may well have control of the wards.”

Akin snorted.  “They couldn't track troublemakers in the halls,” he said.  “How could they track us?”

I kept my thoughts to myself as we slowly made our way down the hidden staircase.  I had no idea if Great Aunt Stregheria and her allies knew it existed or not, but it was our best chance to remain out of sight.  I didn't think the Crown Prince’s troopers would have studied at Jude’s.  Isabella or Great Aunt Stregheria would have to show them the secret entrance to the passageways, if they wanted them to find us.  And I wasn't sure Great Aunt Stregheria would want to show them everything.

But she would have sensed the sword, I thought.  It had been a mistake to let Akin draw it, even though the blade had saved our lives.  She knows we have a deadly weapon now.

I forced myself to think as we reached the bottom of the stairs.  Great Aunt Stregheria was smart, smart enough to be very dangerous.  And the Crown Prince was known to be clever himself.  He’d earned his battlefield prestige.  What would they do, now they knew we'd escaped?  On one hand, we were firsties; on the other, we had Objects of Power.  The sword alone made us a deadly threat.  I didn't think Akin was a swordmaster, but the sword would practically do the fighting for him.  A child with such a blade could stand up to a small army.

“I can't hear anything outside,” Alana whispered, as we reached the entrance into the lower corridor.  “Bella?”

“Nothing,” Bella said.  “The coast is clear.”

“Keep your spellcaster ready,” I warned, as Alana pushed the entrance open.  “There aren’t many places we could go.”

The corridor was deserted - and dim.  I glanced up at the sole surviving light crystal, then led the way down to the workroom, my feet crunching over pieces of glass and crystal.  Alana hissed a warning as something bumped up ahead; I froze, then ran forward.  An upperclassman - his face utterly blank - turned to face us.  I jabbed my spellcaster at him, then pushed into the workroom.  Four other upperclassmen were working at their benches, their faces grim.  I didn't think they were enchanted, but I kept the spellcaster at the ready.  If Rolf had been prepared to throw away his future prospects for Great Aunt Stregheria, others might be willing to do the same.

“Cat?”  I blinked in surprise as I recognised Jeannine D’Arcy.  She was still wearing the amulet I’d made her a few months ago.  “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” I said, warily.  “What are you doing here?”

Jeannine looked relieved.  “They forced us in here and told us to start forging weapons,” she said.  “There’s another group of us brewing potions.”

I glanced at Alana, who looked as worried as I felt.  It would be useful to have a bunch of upperclassmen on our side, but could they be trusted?  If they were working for Great Aunt Stregheria, we were doomed.  I seriously considered freezing them anyway.  We could sort the guilty from the innocent afterwards, if there was an afterwards.

“What’s going on?”  Jeannine asked.  “This isn't what we expected!”

Alana grunted.  “What did you expect?”

I thought fast, trying to think of a solution.  There were plenty of Objects of Power - and Devices of Power - that would react badly to a lie, but I didn’t have time to forge one.  I’d certainly never imagined needing a lie detector while I’d been forging the spellcasters and dispellers.  Perhaps we should freeze them all.  Jeannine would be understandably furious, afterwards, but it wouldn't matter.  My fingers tightened on the spellcaster.  It would have to be quick.  The last thing I needed was raw magic flying randomly through the workroom.

Akin stepped forward.  “We don’t know who to trust,” he said.  He held up his spellcaster, warningly.  “Either you give us your oath you’re on our side or you spend the rest of the conflict frozen.”

An upperclassman looked up, sharply.  “Why you little ...”

“There’s no choice,” Akin said.  He pointed the spellcaster at the upperclassman.  “Swear or remain frozen ...”

The upperclassman purpled.  “I don’t give my oath to anyone ...”

Akin froze him, then turned to the others.  “Swear or join him.”

Jeannine gave me a look that promised trouble in the future, then gave her oath.  The other two followed suit.  I listened carefully to their words, testing each line for potential loopholes, then relaxed slightly.  Great Aunt Stregheria might have anticipated us forcing the upperclassmen to swear oaths - she was willing to break all the other taboos - but I didn't think there was anything she could do to prevent it.  A geas powerful enough to keep them from offering their word would be instantly noticeable.  And yet ...

I frowned, discomforted.  Isabella had panicked ... although I didn't really blame her.  No one really knew if I could offer a sworn oath or not.  Isabella might have been able to talk her way out of trouble if she’d kept calm.  I sighed to myself.  It would have to be tested, somehow, before I really needed to know.  And yet, I had no idea how.  It wasn't easy, even for a skilled magician, to devise a limited oath with limited consequences.  An oath, sworn with the proper rituals, would kill an oathbreaker.

Alana and Bella filled the upperclassmen in as I checked the worktables.  Great Aunt Stregheria apparently wanted more spellcasters ... and spellcollars.  I shuddered when I saw them, realising just how far Great Aunt Stregheria was prepared to go.  A spellcollar would hold a spell in place indefinitely, even when placed on a skilled magician.  Great Aunt Stregheria wanted to turn us all into slaves.  I remembered the other hostages - our parents amongst them - and shivered.  Great Aunt Stregheria would have the finest minds in the city under her control.

I wonder if the Crown Prince knows what she has in mind, I thought, as I checked the design carefully.  It was elementary, surprisingly simple for such a dangerous device.   She’s definitely planning to betray him once he delivers the kingdom to her.

It was a tempting thought.  Dad had once told me that conspirators were rarely honourable men.  There was certainly no such thing as honour among thieves.  Great Aunt Stregheria and the Crown Prince might be plotting to betray each other already.  Or ... maybe they did have something keeping them together.  It wasn't as if either of them could expect any mercy now.

“I’ll go see the others, the ones in the lower potions lab,” Jeannine said.  I looked up to see a smile playing over her lips.  “They couldn't get into Magistra Loanda’s storeroom.”

“Good,” I said.  “Tell them to give their oaths too.  We don’t know who can be trusted.”

I watched her go, feeling an odd twinge of disappointment.  Magistra Loanda could have layered layer after layer of wards over her stockpiles and the dispeller - my dispeller - would have wiped them all away.  Great Aunt Stregheria should have thought of it.  Had she reasoned that my dispeller worked like a standard dispeller and would be destroyed if it was used on powerful wards?  Or had she decided to keep the dispeller and its powers to herself?

Putting the thought aside, I started to gather components and carry them into a private workroom while the others guarded the entrances.  I didn't know how long I’d have to work, but I should have enough time to come up with something.  And then there was Whirlpool ...

John entered, looking grim.  “There’re ships in the bay and fires all over the city,” he said, once we’d checked to make sure he hadn't been put under a geas.  “I think they’re bringing the troops in now.”

“That was quick,” Akin said.  “Where were they?”

I looked at him.  “How long were you in the dorm after the explosion?”

“Several hours,” Akin said.  Alana nodded in agreement.  “They probably just dispatched the ships a few days ago.”

I shrugged.  It was possible, I supposed.  Risky, but possible.  Technically, ships had free passage as long as they didn't enter territorial waters, yet ... the navy wouldn't hesitate to intercept a convoy if they suspected there was something fishy about it.  Dad had grumbled, often enough, about the navy throwing its weight around in distant waters.  But then, harassing Shallot’s shipping was a great deal less risky than making life difficult for North Cairnbulg.

But at least I wasn't asleep for more than a few hours, I thought.  She probably didn't use a potion to drug me, then.

“I assume you tried to signal the Great Houses,” Alana said.  “Did you get any response?”

“None,” John said.  “But the wards are very definitely up.  Getting out of the school may be impossible.”

Unless we had a wardcracker, I thought.  And I could make one ...

I froze as a nasty thought occurred to me.  Fires all over the city ... our walls were charmed to quench fires, whenever they raged out of control.  No one wanted another Great Fire of Shallot, particularly now.  Even the poorer districts had charmed walls and firemen on call at all times.  If fires were burning out of control now, those charms had to have been destroyed.

“So, we need to locate our parents,” Akin said, practically.  “They might be able to help us get out of the school.”

“If they’re in any state to help us,” Alana said.  She nodded to one of the worktables.  “They might all be wearing spellcollars by now.”

“No,” Bella said, quietly.

I shuddered.  The thought of my father wearing a spellcollar ... Great Aunt Stregheria was going to pay, I promised myself.  I’d do whatever it took to make her pay.  The pieces in my bag suddenly felt very heavy.  I could put them together ...

“Stay here,” I said.  “If the others don’t get back soon, we’ll have to leave and search the school ourselves.”

“Understood,” Akin said.

The workroom felt oddly quiet as I stepped inside.  I glanced around, just to be sure that no one was hiding in a corner, then took the components out of my bag.  The pieces didn't look particularly fancy - more like advanced clockwork than pieces of an Object of Power - but ... my fingers seemed to skitter over the metalwork anyway.  It puzzled me.  The spellform shouldn't have manifested, not yet.  I checked, just to be sure, then carefully started to put the pieces together.  Whirlpool slowly took shape under my fingers.

It was smaller than one might have expected, for something that was effectively an ultimate weapon.  A combination of spinning discs, each one glittering with silver runes, neatly fitted together into a clockwork monstrosity.  It was little bigger than my head, smaller than the Object of Power I’d used to produce the flying machine.  And yet… and yet, the sense of anticipation grew stronger as I fitted the pieces together.  Whirlpool practically wanted to be used.

Not yet, I thought.  Perhaps not ever.

The final piece slotted into place.  There was a flash of blinding light as the spellform manifested.  I reached for a hammer, ready to smash the Object of Power if it started to work without permission.  It crossed my mind, about a second too late, that I might have made a mistake.  I wouldn't sense it draining the magic ... although I supposed it would plunge the room into darkness when the crystal lights failed.  By then, everyone for miles around would have sensed the sudden change in the magic field, even if they didn't know what had caused it.  Or, for that matter, what had actually happened.

The Empire plunged into war, I reminded myself.  The Thousand-Year Empire should have survived the loss of the Eternal City, but all the history books agreed that the empire had ripped itself apart in civil war.  Did the shock of feeling the magic field twist drive them insane?

I swallowed, hard, as I looked down at Whirlpool.  It looked harmless.  Someone might easily mistake it for a clockwork device, as long as they didn't look too closely.  The spellform was so understated that I could barely see it through the spectacles.  A magician might doubt it was even there.  And yet, there was something about Whirlpool that disturbed even me.  It was like staring at a spider, staring at something completely alien ... Whirlpool wanted to be used.  I was sure of it.

“I should destroy you,” I muttered, as if Whirlpool was an intelligent creature in its own right.  It was absurd - none of the reliable stories about legendary Objects of Power had talked about them being intelligent - and yet, I couldn't escape the feeling.  I was looking into the darkness ... and the darkness was looking back at me.  “And yet, I can't destroy you.”

I checked the runes obsessively as I carefully - very carefully - returned Whirlpool to my bag.  Tyros and his friends hadn't bothered to include any limiters, when they’d crafted their version of Whirlpool, but I had.  The onrush of magic would trigger off a corrosion process that would eventually destroy the Object of Power.  Or so I thought.  Objects of Power were supposed to be able to handle vast amounts of magic.  In many ways, Whirlpool had more in common with a Device of Power.  And yet, only a Zero could hope to forge it.

That’s a good thing, I told myself firmly, as I headed for the door.  My bag felt heavier, somehow, even though I hadn't put anything else in there.  There won’t be any more.

Outside, there was a quiet argument going on between Akin, Alana, and a grim-faced upperclassman.  I looked from one face to the other, then sighed.  We didn't have time for an argument over who was in charge.

“Cat,” Akin said.  “The good news is that we’ve found the parents.  They’re in the Great Hall.”

“The bad news is that they’re under heavy guard,” the upperclassman said, grimly.  “There are soldiers outside each of the entrances.  We couldn't find a secret passage that leads into the Great Hall.”

I nodded.  The Great Hall had been purpose-built, once upon a time.  There simply wasn't room for a secret passage, hidden in the walls.  Even if there was ... what purpose would it serve?  It wasn't somewhere people needed to walk unseen.

Not until now, at least, I thought.  And there’s no way we can sneak inside.

“We’ll have to force our way through,” I said.  It wouldn't be easy.  Great Aunt Stregheria and the Crown Prince might have ordered their men to search the school for us, but they wouldn't have drawn down the guard on the hostages too far.  If we freed our parents - and if our parents were in any state to fight - the battle would be over.  “And we have to take everything we need with us.”

“Oh,” the upperclassman said.  “And who put you in charge, firstie?”

Akin touched the sword on his belt.  “I did,” he said, allowing the upperclassman to see the glowing gemstone.  “Does that answer your question?”

The upperclassman looked irked, but nodded curtly.  I allowed myself a moment of relief, then turned to Jeannine.  “We’ll take all the emergency kits with us,” I said.  “Strip the potions workroom bare of anything that might be useful.  And hurry.”

Jeannine nodded and walked away.  I glanced at the unfinished spellcollars and winced.  If Great Aunt Stregheria had put them on our parents, they were likely to be forced to fight against us.  Stopping them wouldn't be easy, particularly as none of us wanted to actually hurt them.  I might have to fire up Whirlpool just to destroy the collars, despite the risk of bringing down the entire building.  And then ...

I swallowed.  If we got out of this alive, I was going to experiment somewhere very far from civilisation.  Maybe Dad would let me move to one of the northern islands.  There were places that only had one or two inhabitants, places where no one would be hurt if I accidentally twisted the local magic field out of shape.  Or ... maybe I could just go to one of our country estates.  They were quite some distance from the nearest town.

Rose touched my arm.  “Are you okay?”

“No,” I said.  Even if we did get out of this alive, Whirlpool was going to dominate my thoughts until the day I died.  We might win a battle, but bring down civilisation in the process.  Better to destroy it - and my notes - as soon as the battle was over.  “Too much has happened too quickly.”

“Take a long holiday afterwards,” Rose advised.  “They’re going to have to rebuild the school, aren't they?”

I winced.  Jude’s was over a thousand years old.  And Great Aunt Stregheria had shattered the school’s reputation for neutrality and safety.  Whatever happened, nothing was going to be the same again.

“Yeah,” I said.  “They’re going to have to rebuild the school.”

“Come on,” Akin snapped.  “We have to move.”

I nodded.  It would only be a matter of time before Great Aunt Stregheria realised that the workroom was no longer under her control.  And then ... she’d have to search the school from top to bottom as quickly as possible.  Thankfully, that wouldn't be easy unless she had a small army under her command.  Jude’s was just too poorly designed - and the wards too old - for anything less to search the entire building properly.

The Crown Prince does have a small army under his command, I reminded myself.  They might be searching the school already.

“Coming,” I said.  I nodded to Rose, who moved slightly in front of me.  “Let’s go.”

Chapter Thirty-Six

It was clear, as we made our way up through the hidden passageways, that the Crown Prince was fully aware some of us had escaped.  We could hear heavy footsteps crashing around as the soldiers tried to track down and capture some of the escapees, hopefully including upperclassmen who might be able to defend themselves without Objects of Power.  They would know the school, I told myself.  They would be able to put up a real fight.  I didn't think they’d be able to hold out forever, but they might just buy us some time.  Great Aunt Stregheria would not be able to search the school for us while she was stamping out a rebellion.

“We have to get out here,” Jeannine muttered.  “There are no closer entrances to the Great Hall.”

I tensed, cursing the school’s designers - insofar as the school had had designers - under my breath.  Would it have killed them to include a secret passage that led directly to the Great Hall?  But they probably hadn't imagined any need for such a passage.  No one had really grasped that the empire was gone, back in those days.  Jude’s had certainly never been planned as a comprehensive school of magic.  The original buildings would have been far larger if the designers had realised what they would have to do.

“Go,” I muttered.

Akin took the lead, throwing himself out of the entrance.  He kept one hand on the sword’s hilt, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice.  Hexes flew at him at once, flashing out of existence as they touched his body.  The bracelet was protecting him.  Jeannine let out a gasp, then stepped back to allow Alana, Bella and Rose to follow Akin.  It must have galled her to let the firsties do the fighting, but she had no choice.  Her amulet was nowhere near as versatile as the bracelets.  I hefted my own spellcaster and dived after the others, trying to stay low.  A pair of soldiers were running towards me, waving their spellcasters frantically.  I froze them both before it was too late.

“Get them all,” Alana shouted.  She was standing in the middle of the corridor, surrounded by a haze of green light.  Hexes were striking her constantly, to no avail.  She almost seemed to be having fun as she sprayed hexes back at her opponents, who were dropping like flies.  And yet, they were trained.  The unfrozen ones were rapidly unfreezing the frozen ones, even as they were targeted themselves.  “Hurry!”

I nodded to Rose, then ran towards the main entrance.  Grown men blinked in surprise, then cast a stream of hexes and curses towards me.  My bracelet grew hot enough to burn my skin - again - as I froze them, waving the spellcaster around frantically.  A couple of their spellcasters, unable to stand the pace, exploded, nearly killing their wielders.  I felt sick as I saw a man fall to his knees, his hand a bloody stump.  I froze him.  It was the only thing I could do.

And then, suddenly, we were the only ones moving.  The floor was littered with frozen soldiers.  The upperclassmen moved amongst them, picking up discarded spellcasters and searching their belts for anything useful.  I hoped they knew to be careful.  My spellcasters didn't explode, but overusing theirs would be bad.  The sound of clattering feet heading away from us echoed down the corridor.  I glanced at Akin, sharing a silent thought.  They were retreating now, but they’d come back with reinforcements.

And they’ll know what they’re facing, I thought.  We’d caught them by surprise - once.  Next time, it wouldn't be so easy.  We have to get inside.

The Great Hall was locked, of course.  I drew my dispeller and pressed it against the charmed latch, idly wondering if Great Aunt Stregheria would have used a physical lock as well as a sealing charm.  The spell snapped out of existence, allowing me to force open the door.  I recoiled in shock, a moment later, as I saw what had become of the hostages.  They were ...

I swallowed, hard.  “Don’t touch the food.”

The hostages - I looked from face to face, desperately trying to find my parents - were lying unconscious on the floor, clearly drugged.  Behind them, the tables were laden with food - largely untouched food.  The guards hadn't taken advantage of the chance to eat, I saw, which was all too revealing.  They knew that touching the food would be a very bad idea.  And yet ... I couldn’t understand how Great Aunt Stregheria had done it.  Dinner with the Crown Prince or not, Dad wouldn’t forget to check the food for potion.  Quite a few Patriarchs had met untimely ends after eating poisoned food ...

I looked at the plates and felt my heart sink, again.  I knew how the trick had been done, even though I had no proof.  If I was right, there wouldn't be proof.  Great Aunt Stregheria had sprinkled an uncompleted potion into the soup, relying on the guests to trigger the magic themselves when they swallowed.  I’d done the same trick myself, to Alana.  Had I somehow given Great Aunt Stregheria the idea?  Or ... had she come up with it herself?  Perhaps I wasn't the first person to think of it after all.

“Mum,” Alana shouted.  “She’s over here!”

I followed her, jumping over a pile of bodies.  A handful had faint stains around their mouths, suggesting they’d had enough time to try to force themselves to vomit up the potion.   It certainly hadn’t been enough to save them.  I heard Akin shout behind me - he’d found his parents too - but I barely paid any attention.  I needed to see my parents.

Dad looked ... weaker, somehow.  He was still a big man, yet ... he seemed smaller.  His breathing came in ragged gasps.  I wondered, grimly, if he’d eaten too much soup and overdosed on the potion.  Great Aunt Stregheria hadn't had any way to gauge the dose.  Beside him, Mum looked frail.  She’d been one of the handful who’d tried to vomit up the potion before it was too late.  Great Aunt Stregheria had probably laughed at her.  The city’s foremost Potions Mistress, brought down by a simple trick.

“We need a purgative,” Akin shouted.  He was kneeling beside his father, desperately trying to turn the bigger man onto his side.  “They’re all at risk of choking!”

I gritted my teeth, then took a firm hold of Dad’s arm and pulled.  He might have looked smaller, somehow, but he was still huge.  I had to struggle to turn him onto his side, even with Alana helping.  Mum, thankfully, turned easily.  I glanced at them both, then moved from body to body.  Their captors hadn't realised that there was a very real risk of the hostages choking on their own vomit.

Unless they simply didn't care, I thought.  Who takes over the house if all the adults - save one - are dead?

Akin took a potions bottle from the medical kit and pressed it against his father’s mouth.  Carioca Rubén convulsed violently, coughing loudly as his body tried to expel the sleeping potion.  I was torn between hoping that he’d wake up and fearing what would happen if he did ... Carioca might be in the same boat as everyone else, but would he see it that way?  I wasn't sure I wanted to know.  Alana tossed me a bottle and pointed to Dad.  I sighed, knelt down beside him and administered the potion.  Dad showed no obvious reaction.

Crap, I thought.  He must have swallowed a higher dose.

Jeannine walked over to me, looking pale.  “That’s my mother over there,” she said, pointing to an older woman who could have been Great Aunt Stregheria’s twin.  Her skin was white, but her cheekbones were permanently set in an expression of sour disapproval.  “Should we be trying to wake her too?”

“If you think she can help,” I said.  I looked around the hall, quickly counting the unconscious bodies.  There were nearly two hundred men and women lying on the ground, practically everyone who was anyone in Shallot.  I felt a flicker of sullen admiration, mingled with fear.  The Crown Prince had made a clean sweep of everyone who could organise resistance.  “But if she can't, leave her be.  We don’t have enough potion for everyone.”

I thought, fast, as I paced the room.  We might have made a tactical mistake in moving to the Great Hall.  The hostages were unlikely to be in any fit state to help for hours, if not days, while the Great Hall itself would be very hard to defend.  We needed to move them, yet ... where would we take them?  And how?  I didn't think we could get levitate them all through the wards before it was too late.  Those guards would definitely be back with reinforcements soon.  The logical step was to abandon the hostages and go elsewhere, while we still could, but I didn't want to do that.  It would be leaving my parents behind.  They’d be helpless.

Carioca Rubén coughed, again, then sat upright.  His blond hair was damp with sweat, his hands were shaking ... his fine robes looked thoroughly unclean.  He looked up, his blue eyes meeting mine for a long second.  Oddly, I found it a little reassuring.  He might be my father’s sworn enemy - and his family might be my family’s sworn enemy - but I would never be scared of him again.  I wondered, as he glanced at Akin, what he was thinking.  He’d already seen the sword at Akin’s belt.

He had to struggle to speak.  “What happened?”

“Father,” Akin said.  “The Crown Prince has taken over the school.”

He gabbled out an explanation, including a brief outline of Isabella’s involvement, while his father fought to stand upright, declining all offers of help.  I was grudgingly impressed, even though Carioca looked as though he was constantly on the verge of toppling back over again.  He was a strong magician, after all ... fear ran down my spine as he looked at my father’s prone body.  My sweaty fingers gripped the spellcaster.  If he made one move towards Dad, I’d blast him and take whatever consequences came my way.  Akin would hate me forever ...

... But at least my father would be alive.

“I should have listened to your mother, boy,” Carioca said.  He sounded rueful rather than angry.  “She thought the peace conference was too good to be true.”

Jeannine coughed, lightly.  “We need help, sir.  We’re trapped here.”

Carioca looked at the five doors and winced.  “This place will be impossible to defend,” he said, as he staggered slightly.  Akin caught him before he could lose his balance completely and hit the ground.  “But you might be able to hold it for a while.”

“We need help,” I said.  “Do you have any ideas?”

Carioca looked at me, then at Akin, then at me again.  “There’s a company of armsmen not too far away, hopefully keeping their heads down,” he said.  “I wasn't that trusting” - his smile grew sharper - “and your father wasn't that trusting either.  If we can get to them, we can convince them to help.”

I frowned.  If Carioca was telling the truth ... I told myself, sharply, that he had no reason to lie.  Not now.  We could run to the armsmen, if we could get past the wards, but the Crown Prince would have every chance to recapture the hostages.  No, we needed the armsmen to storm the school.  And that meant we had to hold out until they arrived.

“You’re the only person they’ll listen to,” I said.  “You’ll have to fetch them ...”

“Our armsmen won’t listen to him,” Alana said.  “I’ll have to go with him.”

“Yeah,” Bella said.  “It had better be her.”

“Ouch,” I said.  Alana was the Heir Primus, but that didn't give her any real power.  She was only twelve.  Whoever was in charge of the armsmen might only be minor family, yet he’d outrank her until she had her Season.  But we didn't have any other options.  “Be careful.”

“I will,” Alana promised.

“But how do we get them through the wards?”  Akin said.  He touched the sword.  “Can I break them ...?”

“Don’t try,” his father snapped.  “If you are wrong, the feedback might destroy both you and the sword.”

I cursed under my breath.  If we took out a wardstone ... no, we’d never get near the wardstones.  I knew where they were, but so did Great Aunt Stregheria.  I was morbidly sure of it.  Finding a wardstone wasn't hard if you knew what to do.  By now, each of the wardstones would be surrounded by armed troops.  Getting to them, let alone destroying them, would be difficult.

A thought stuck me.  “Jeannine, go with them,” I said.  “Take the amulet with you.  When you reach the outer edge of the wards, use it to weaken the magic.  It won’t last long, but it should get you over the walls.”

Akin gave me a sharp look.  “Are you sure it will work?”

“No,” I said.  I tried not to think about using Whirlpool.  My bag felt heavier with every passing second.  “But it’s the best I can think of, right now.”

“Good thinking,” Carioca said.  He held out a hand to Jeannine.  “Shall we go?”

Alana nodded.  I saw a complicated series of emotions flittering over her face.  She knew what she had to do, yet ... she was nervous.  Walking outside in the company of our house’s sworn enemy ... it was brave of her.  I wasn't sure I could do it, even with my protections.  There was more than one way to hurt someone and I was fairly sure that Carioca Rubén knew most of them.  But then, Akin wasn't a bad guy.  Perhaps the horror stories I’d heard about his family were just stories.

“If you see your sister,” Carioca said to Akin, “tell her ... tell her that I am very disappointed in her.”

I fought down a giggle.  And to think I’d thought my father had a gift for understatement!

“We need to move,” Alana said.  “Um ... sir?”

“Coming,” Carioca said.

I watched them go, then started organising the defence.  There were enough of us, barely, to man all the possible entrances and cover the hostages.  I detailed half of us to watch the entrances, while ordering the other half to move the hostages under the tables.  It would provide at least some protection, I hoped.  The hostages moaned and groaned, but didn't wake up.  Bella administered our remaining doses of purgative to the hostages we thought were most likely to be useful, yet none of them started to wake up.  I wondered, grimly, if we’d been tricked.  What if Carioca Rubén was secretly on Great Aunt Stregheria’s side?

That’s absurd, I told myself.  I was being paranoid, nothing more.  But ... the thought refused to leave.  Isabella might have been working under her father’s orders, instead of deliberately choosing to betray her own family.  And Akin ... no, I was just being paranoid.  Akin had had plenty of opportunities to stop our escape plan dead.  I’m going to have to count on our family’s sworn enemy to get us out of here.

I giggled, helplessly.  Rose raised an eyebrow.  “What’s so funny?”

“I’ll explain later,” I said.  “Help me move ...”

“They’re coming,” an upperclassman snapped.  “I can see them!”

“Take cover,” I warned.  The firsties with protective bracelets should be fine, if they were hexed, but the others were vulnerable.  And I wasn't sure what spell Isabella had used against me, back in the workroom.  The dispeller should counter it, if I could locate it ... I gritted my teeth in bitter annoyance.  Not knowing what it was or what it did made it harder to plan countermeasures.  “Don’t let them get close enough to cast spells into the chamber.”

The lights flickered, dimming sharply.  A lone crystal light exploded, pieces of shattered glass falling to the ground.  I heard a low hum echoing through the school, my hair tying to stand on end, just for a second, as the wards tried to realign themselves.  Rose gripped her forehead in pain, clenching her fists to keep from crying out.  Others seemed to have the same problem.  Great Aunt Stregheria was trying to play games with the wards.

Good luck with that, I thought, as the hum slowly died away.  Magister Von Rupert and I had worked hard, but the school’s wards were nowhere near as flexible as a Great House’s protections.  The only reason the soldiers hadn't attacked us while we were in pain, I suspected, was that they were in pain too.  I almost giggled at the irony.  Your House War damaged the school’s wards so badly that you cannot turn them against us.

Akin didn't seem to be in any pain, but I noticed he was clutching the sword’s hilt so tightly his knuckles had turned white.  Bella was rubbing her forehead, while Gayle and John both looked irritated.  Rose was naturally strong in magic, strong enough to be offered a scholarship despite her lack of formal training.  Perhaps the stronger the magician, the greater the effect ...

“Father will be back soon,” Akin said.  He sounded as though he was trying to convince himself.  Carioca Rubén was a powerful magician, but he’d been in no state for a fight when he’d left.  If he’d been caught trying to escape, we were doomed.  “Even if he just brings our armsmen ...”

I nodded.  House Rubén’s armsmen were supposed to be good.  I didn't think they were better than our armsmen, or the Kingsmen, but as long as they helped us I didn't mind.  We were desperate, too desperate to care about who helped us.  One way or the other, things would have to change.  The House War could not be allowed to restart.

And then a booming voice echoed through the chamber.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

“ATTENTION.”  It was a male voice, but it didn't sound like the Crown Prince.  Someone was projecting his voice from the other side of the doors.  “YOU ARE SURROUNDED, OUTNUMBERED AND TRAPPED.  COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP AND YOU WILL LIVE.”

I shook my head, automatically.  The voice might be right.  We might well be surrounded, outnumbered and trapped.  But if we surrendered, we’d go straight back into custody and the Crown Prince would have a chance to put his plan back on track.  I couldn't take the risk of letting them recapture me.  Great Aunt Stregheria would make sure - this time - that I wouldn’t even have an inch of freedom.  Or simply decide I was too much trouble to keep around and cut my throat.

No, she won’t do that, I thought.  She’ll drop me in an oubliette instead.

Akin drew the sword.  The chamber filled with pearly radiance.  “We will never surrender,” he shouted.  His voice boomed in the silence.  Somehow, it seemed almost natural.  “We will fight 'til our last breath!”

I glanced at him, alarmed.  Was that him talking?  Or was it the sword?

“BE REASONABLE,” the voice said.  “WE CAN KEEP POURING MEN INTO THE CHAMBER UNTIL YOU ARE OVERWHELMED AND KILLED.  SURRENDER AND YOU WILL LIVE.”

“No,” Akin said.

There was a long moment of silence.  I wondered, morbidly, just what sort of discussions the Crown Prince and Great Aunt Stregheria were having, somewhere on the other side of the walls.  They needed the hostages alive, which limited the types of spells they could throw at us.  If they hadn't realised that Carioca Rubén had sneaked out of the school, they might even think they could starve us out.  We were surrounded by food, but we didn't dare touch it.  And yet ... time wasn't on their side.  They had to secure the hostages before the surviving members of the Great Houses realised that the hostages were no longer in their custody.

“Here they come!” an upperclassman shouted.

I gritted my teeth, lifting my spellcaster as a column of men, two abreast, appeared at one end of the corridor and charged us.  The first couple were frozen instantly, successors shoving them to the floor or tripping over them.  I giggled, an instant before some of the frozen men were picked up and used as human shields.  There was no point in freezing the same men over and over again.  They got far too close before we managed to freeze them all.

One of the upperclassmen stepped forward and cast a spell, directing a gust of powerful wind down the corridor.  Portraits were ripped off the walls, flying backwards and crashing into enemy positions; statues toppled, hitting the floor and shattering into thousands of pieces.  The frozen enemy troopers were pushed back by the wind, banging their heads into walls as they moved.  I felt a moment of pity, even though I knew the freeze spells kept them from actually feeling anything.  Their only real crime was following their liege lord into treason.

I heard the sound of hexes behind me and turned, just in time to see the enemy push another attack forward.  The defenders, led by Bella, fought back savagely, but the enemy got very close before they were finally forced to retreat.  I glanced at Akin, my eyes narrowing as I thought I saw two Akins looking back at me.  One, my friend, looked nervous; the other, a hardened warrior, had a glint in his eye I didn't like.  The sword’s influence was slowly seeping into Akin’s very soul.

There was a long pause.  I wondered, as pieces of debris fell in the distance, just how many soldiers the Crown Prince had under his command.  It would be difficult for him to bring an entire army to bear on the Great Hall - there just wasn't enough room in the corridor - but his men had already thought of using their own as human shields.  Given time, they’d get further and further down the corridor ... and, eventually, burst into the Great Hall.  I glanced at my father and winced.  Even if he woke up now, it would be a long time before he could cast any spells.

“They’re regrouping and preparing a second attack,” Akin said.  Even his voice was different; older, graver ... darker.  “I can feel them.”

I looked at him for a long moment, trying to decide if I should tell him to put down the sword.  It was dangerous, yet ... it was also the only true weapon at our disposal.  We needed it.  And if I did tell him to put it down and he refused, what then?  Akin wasn't entirely in his right mind any longer.  He was a child.  The sword was designed to be worn and wielded by a grown man. I remembered touching my family’s sword and shivered.  If I could be overwhelmed, what stopped him from being overwhelmed?

Nothing, I thought.

The second attack began while I was still trying to come up with an answer.  This time, the enemy used the walls as cover while they hurled hexes down the corridors and into the Great Hall.  Most of them missed - or exploded uselessly against my protections - but that didn't make them harmless.  I had a nasty feeling that the spell Isabella had used was woven into one or more of the spells aimed at us, unseen while it did its dirty work.  Akin jumped forward, holding the sword in front of him.  It glowed so brightly that the rest of the chamber seemed dark.

“Come at me,” he growled.  “If you dare.”

I flinched.  That wasn't Akin’s voice.  And yet ... he stood in the doorway, the sword flashing brilliantly as it defected hex after hex.  Most of them expended themselves on the stone walls, which were starting to look a little pitted, but a handful were redirected back down towards the enemy positions.  I heard someone cry out in pain and felt a flash of vindictive glee.  Served him right.

Rose nudged me as the attack slowly came to an end and nodded toward Akin.  “Is he alright?”

“No,” I said.  I tried to think of possible options, but nothing came to mind.  I’d just have to hope I could talk him down, afterwards.  “Keep an eye on him.”

A handful of hexes shot past us, a faint splatter compared to the torrent they’d unleashed upon us a few moments ago.  I allowed myself a moment to imagine their spellcasters overloading and exploding, then reached for my spectacles and looked around suspiciously.  There was so much raw magic in the chamber that it took me a few seconds to see the spellforms, going to work in the rear of the room.  I couldn't help being impressed by the spells, even though I knew they were deadly.  They were steadily draining the oxygen from the chamber ...

That must have been what Isabella did to me, I thought, as I used the dispeller to remove the spells.  She used hexes she knew were useless to distract me while the real threat went to work.

It was a clever idea, although I could see some limitations.  It would only be really useful in a confined space.  And someone with a strong sensitivity to magic would probably be able to sense the spellforms, even if they couldn't see them.  But it had worked.  I wondered, absently, if Great Aunt Stregheria had invented it.  She had been a notable Charms Mistress in her day.  And it was precisely the kind of nasty trick she’d like.

“Watch for covert spells,” I shouted, as the attack began again.  “They’re trying to drain our air!”

The battle grew nastier as the enemy mounted attack after attack, only to be beaten off and given a chance to recover while we had to remain on the alert at all times.  Akin didn’t seem to be tiring, but everyone else was feeling the strain.  Sweat ran down my back as I jabbed my spellcaster time and time again, silently relieved that my spellcasters didn't overload.  It felt like we’d been fighting for hours ...

... And then a dull rumble echoed down the corridor.  I blinked in surprise, convinced - just for a second - that the wall had come loose and was advancing towards us.  But no, it was just a giant shield, pushed by a team of soldiers and absorbing our hexes as they approached.  I cursed under my breath, using words I would never have normally dared say anywhere near my mother.  It was a neat, but effective way of cancelling out our advantages.

Akin started towards it, sword glowing.  “I’ll deal with it!”

“Stay back,” I snapped at him.  “I’ve got an idea!”

He glared at me - no, the sword glared at me.  His face was so twisted that I knew it wasn't him any longer.  Someone - something - was using his body as a puppet.  And it wasn't completely on our side.

My skin crawled as I turned my back, half-expecting to feel the blade slice me in half.  But nothing happened.  I picked up two of the captured spellcasters and quickly altered their runes with my tools, then threw them forward, over the advancing shield.  Moments later, the spellcasters exploded, sending a wave of raw magic out in all directions.  A man staggered back, his body already warping out of shape ... I felt a flash of guilt.  What had I done?

The remnants of the shield crumbled to dust, revealing a set of armoured men charging towards us.  They were carrying wooden staffs, not swords or spellcasters.  I puzzled over it for a second, then swore out loud as Akin hurled himself towards them.  The sword’s glow seemed to take on a hungry look as he lashed out at them, the blade cutting though their staffs and armour as though they were made of paper.  I heard him - no, it wasn't him - laughing as he cut the men to pieces.  I felt sick.  They didn't stand a chance ...

... And Akin ... Akin looked as though he intended to charge the rest of them.

“Akin,” I shouted, desperately.  “Come back!”

He turned with blinding speed, the sword glowing so brightly that I was almost blinded by the light.  “You do not give me orders, wrench,” he growled, as he stamped back towards me.  His gait was that of an older man.  “I am in charge!”

I held myself steady, despite an overpowering urge to turn and run.  I had the feeling that showing the slightest hint of weakness would be a very bad idea.  Rose said something, behind me, but I barely heard her.  I was focused on Akin’s eyes.  His face was different, somehow, yet the eyes were the same ...

“Put the sword down,” I told him.  “You can’t control it.”

“Shut up, wrench,” Akin growled.  “I ...”

He lifted the blade, as if he was going to take a swing at me.  I had an instant to wonder if I’d miscalculated, then he staggered and practically pushed the blade into the floor.  It sliced through the wood and stone like a hot knife through butter, the gemstone growing brighter as the blade itself dimmed.  Akin was fighting the sword, but it was trying to fight back.

“I will not be beaten by you,” Akin growled, glaring at the sword.  His face twisted, slowly returning to normal.  “I will not be your slave.”

His voice grew louder.  “Obey me!”

The sword seemed to flicker in his hand.  Akin let out a long breath, then slowly returned it to the scabbard.  His face was damp with sweat.  I saw fear in his eyes as he looked at me.  He knew how close he’d come to allowing the sword to cut me in two.

“I ...”

“Don’t worry about it,” I told him.  “I touched a Family Sword too, once upon a time.”

Akin took a long breath.  “It just ... it just wanted me to give in to it,” he said.  “And it had been helping.”

“It’s alright,” I said.  Dad had given me a long lecture, the night after Alana had goaded me into touching the sword.  His words had had more impact than any punishment.  An adult - a strong adult - could handle the sword.  Anyone else risked being overwhelmed.  “Just ... don’t touch it for a while.”

“I convinced it to obey me,” Akin said.  But he made no move to draw the sword.  “I ... I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, again.  “You didn't kill me.”

I looked around, suddenly aware that everyone was looking at us ... and that the enemy attacks had stopped.  I hoped that was a good sign.  I could see quite a few frozen men within eyesight, utterly unable to move.  And yet ... was the Crown Prince really on the verge of running out of troops?  He’d brought thousands of troops to Shallot.  I doubted we’d frozen more than a hundred, if that.

Akin ran his hand through his sweaty hair.  “Father isn't back.”

I nodded, grimly.  I could be wrong, but I didn't think Carioca Rubén would have to go very far to find his armsmen.  House Rubén owned a number of properties close to Jude’s, any one of which would make for a good staging post.  My family owned a couple too.  Alana might not know where they were, but Carioca certainly would.  And they hadn't come back ... I didn't like the implications.  Either they hadn't been able to get out of the school ...

... Or they couldn't get back in.

“They’re regrouping,” Bella said.  “What do we do?”

I tried to think.  There was no sign of help arriving.  Nor were the slowly-recovering hostages in any state to fight.  And we were being worn down, piece by piece.  Several of the upperclassmen had already been stunned, stunned so badly that even the dispeller hadn't been able to wake them.  It wouldn't be long before tiredness brought us down ...

“We need to bring down the wards,” I said.  “And ... and we need to stop the Crown Prince.”

I met Akin’s eyes.  “They were trying to turn the wards against us,” I said.  “And Great Aunt Stregheria wouldn’t share that sort of power with anyone.  She has to be in the central wardchamber.”

Akin nodded.  “But how do we get there?”

“I know how to get there,” I said.  “We just have to get out of here.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Bella said.  “They’ve got all the exits covered.”

I grinned.  Bella was right, from her point of view.  But I was used to thinking of solutions that didn't include magic.  Or, sometimes, that involved going 'round a problem rather than hitting it head-on.

“We’re going to go down,” I said.  “Akin can cut through the floor.  We drop down into the lower passageways, then hurry straight to the wardchamber.”

“Clever,” Akin said.  He grasped the sword’s hilt, then hesitated.  It was clear he didn't want to draw it.  “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“I hope so,” I said.  I thought the sword had accepted Akin as its master, but there was no way to be sure.  It was designed to influence whoever wielded it, turning them into a better swordmaster.  But it also made them more inclined to use the sword.  “Do it.”

Akin drew the sword, once more.  The sword seemed somehow dimmed as he cut a circle in the floor, which promptly plunged downwards as soon as it was cut.  A loud crash echoed up, reminding me - too late - that we had no idea what was underneath us.  Akin held the blade up, allowing me to see a simple stone floor.  It was empty.  I smiled, grimly, then looked at Bella.

“Hold this place as long as possible,” I said.  I hoped it wouldn't be the last time I’d see my sister.  Both of my sisters.  I wanted to get to know their new selves.  “And don’t let them win.”

“I’ll try,” Bella said.  She sounded tired, but grimly determined.  “Rose will stay with me.”

I glanced at Rose, who nodded.  Akin returned the sword to the scabbard, then sat down on the edge of the hole and dropped down to the next level.  Dust billowed up from where he landed.  I drew in a breath, then dropped down next to him.  Mum probably wouldn't care that my dress clothes had been completely ruined, given everything else that had happened over the last few hours.  It felt like we’d been fighting for days.

We made our way through the darkness slowly, heading straight for the wardchamber.  I was silently grateful we’d spent so long exploring the school because, without a general sense of the layout, we would have been hopelessly lost.  It was still hard, very hard, to find the chamber again.  I suspected that there were a handful of misdirection charms placed around the chamber that I hadn't noticed, the last time I visited.  Magister Von Rupert would not have discussed those with me.

I tensed as we reached the door and peered inside.  Great Aunt Stregheria was standing by the Object of Power, examining the various Devices of Power that surrounded it; the Crown Prince was pacing the room, one hand permanently on the sword at his belt.  And Isabella, looking like a whipped dog, was sitting by the side of the chamber.  It didn't look as though Great Aunt Stregheria had been very understanding, when she’d finally heard what Isabella had done.  There was a very nasty bruise on Isabella’s cheek and her left arm was hanging uselessly.  I rather suspected that Great Aunt Stregheria had taken her anger out on the younger girl.

Akin breathed out a curse ...

... And Isabella looked up and saw us.

She screamed.  “They’re here!”

Chapter Thirty-Eight

“Caitlyn,” Great Aunt Stregheria said.  I thought I saw desperation in her eyes. “What a ... pleasant surprise.”

I donned my spectacles.  Great Aunt Stregheria was protected by a complicated set of wards, which she had somehow tied into the Devices of Power.  She was drawing power directly from the Object of Power and channelling it into ... into what?  I studied the spellforms, but I couldn't figure out what they were meant to do.  There was just too much stray magic in the air for me to get a clear view.

The Crown Prince gave me a sharp look.  His silver armour glowed in the dim light.  “Do you think you’ve won?”

“I think you’ve lost,” I said.  It was hard not to feel as though I was crossing a line.  Talking back to adults, particularly aristocrats, had never been encouraged.  “You’ve lost control of the school.”

“I’ll recapture the hostages soon,” the Crown Prince said.  “And as long as the wards are up, no one can get into the school.”

I suspected he was placing too much faith in the school’s wards, but I kept that thought to myself.  If Great Aunt Stregheria hadn't seen fit to enlighten him about the weaknesses in the wards ... I wondered, absently, what that meant.  A planned betrayal?  Or a hedge against being betrayed?  A strongly-warded fortress might make the difference between life and death, but Jude’s was no fortress.  The Crown Prince had proved that, hadn't he?

The Crown Prince looked at Akin for a long moment.  “Give up now and you get to live.”

“No,” Akin said.  I could hear the quiver in his voice, but he held himself steady.  “Never.”

“Be reasonable,” the Crown Prince said.  “Join me.  Both of you can join me ...”

“As slaves?”  I snorted, rudely.  “You’ll have me wearing myself out producing Objects of Power.”

“You’ll be well-treated,” the Crown Prince told me.  “Money ... titles ... everything you could possibly want.”

“Except freedom,” I said.  I had no illusions.  The Crown Prince would work me until I dropped dead.  “This plan is utter madness.”

“Says the child,” the Crown Prince sneered.

Great Aunt Stregheria flared the wards.  Light blazed through the chamber.  I felt the walls shake, just for a second.  I wasn't sure what she was trying to do, but there was a very real chance she’d bring the entire school crashing down into rubble.  Jude’s had never been designed to stand up to a battering.  The school was definitely no fortress.

“You’re in no place to bargain,” she told us, sternly.  She was no longer even trying to hide the hatred and malice in her voice.  “You will join us.  Either you accept decent terms, young lady, or you will be enslaved.”

“No,” I said.  “What are you doing?”

“Reshaping the wards,” Great Aunt Stregheria said.  She tapped one of the Devices of Power, meaningfully.  “Do you know where these came from?”

I shook my head.  They certainly weren't mine.  The Devices of Power predated me, predated Great Aunt Stregheria ... probably predated Magister Von Rupert.  I wondered, suddenly, which one of them was actually older.  Magister Von Rupert looked old enough to remember the empire, but I was fairly sure he was younger than that.  They might have shared classes when they were children.

“Good,” Great Aunt Stregheria said.

The Crown Prince growled.  His hand fell to his sword.  “Enough talk.  Join us or die.”

He drew the sword in one smooth motion.  A dark red radiance filled the air.  I felt my blood run cold, even though - in hindsight - I should have anticipated it.  The Royal Family owned a number of blood-bonded swords.  One of them was traditionally worn by the Crown Prince, then passed on to his successor when he took the crown.  The blade seemed to pulse with an unearthly desire for blood.  I took a step back, despite myself.  There was something about the red light that affected even me.

Akin drew his sword.  The pearly white light drove back the red, just for a moment.  I gritted my teeth, realising that the Crown Prince knew how to use his sword.  Akin might be outmatched, yet ... I looked past the Crown Prince, at Isabella.  She was staring at the sword, utterly terrified.  I almost felt sorry for her.

The Crown Prince surged forward in one smooth motion, the blade sweeping out to slash at Akin.  Akin’s sword leapt up and blocked the blow, the two blades colliding in a flash of blinding light.  The Crown Prince looked surprised, just for a second, then started to rain blows on Akin’s defences.  Akin’s sword seemed to blur in his hands, his face twisting slowly as the sword started to bleed into him again.  I hoped - and prayed - that I could bring him back from the brink again.  This time, he had no choice but to let the sword guide him in battle.  It was the only way to win.

I stepped backwards as the two fought, trying to think of a plan.  Great Aunt Stregheria was safe behind her wards, unless ... I studied the wards carefully, trying to find the weak spots I knew had to be there.  There were seven points, all surprisingly obvious.  I frowned as I examined the closest weak point.  Great Aunt Stregheria was mad, bad and dangerous to know, but she wasn't stupid.  She could have made it a great deal harder to find the weak points ...

My eyes narrowed as I spotted the trap.  She’d built layer after layer of wards, weaving curses, hexes and reservoirs of raw magic into a deadly edifice.  If I brought down the wards, I’d trigger a wave of raw magic that would flow into me.  I wasn't sure what it would actually do to me, but I didn’t want to find out.  Great Aunt Stregheria had probably assumed I had found or forged a few more protections.  She’d have worked out a way to get around them if necessary.

I looked up at her.  She was smirking.  She knew I couldn't get to her.  And that meant ...

The ground shook.  Akin and the Crown Prince stamped around the room, their swords colliding time and time again.  Brilliant flashes of red and white light filled the room, time and time again.  Akin wouldn't have stood a chance if they’d been using normal swords.  The Crown Prince was fast and strong and very experienced.  I felt cold, despite the heat, as I realised that we hadn’t won.  The Crown Prince could still pull off a victory.  And he was committed.  If he surrendered, he’d be executed; if he won, no one would dare question him.

Treason never prospers, I thought.  Dad had taught me that, long ago.  Because if it prospers, no one dares call it treason.

I looked at Isabella.  She was pressing her back against the wall, her eyes flickering between the combatants and the exit.  I thought she wanted to sneak out of the chamber and run, but she didn't seem to have the nerve.  And besides, she didn't have anywhere to go.  She was still a child.  There was no way she could take over the remnants of her family, even assuming that something nasty had happened to her father.  She needed Great Aunt Stregheria and the Crown Prince to win.  I knew she’d never help me to stop them.

And besides, she can't help us, I thought.  Unless she takes the magical discharge herself ...

I dismissed the thought - Isabella wasn't going to risk her life to help us - and then opened my bag.  Whirlpool practically leapt into my hand, practically glowing with deadly potential.  I could feel it, just waiting to be used.  It might have been my imagination ... and yet, I’d definitely felt something in the remains of the Eternal City.  Perhaps there was a way for me to sense magic after all.  Or ... perhaps it was something else, something lacking.  A man who didn't have to breathe might still feel the wind.

“Whatever that is, it will not get through the wards,” Great Aunt Stregheria said.  She was watching the combatants, her voice so calm that she might as well have been commenting on the weather.  “It’s just a matter of time until your little friend falls.  Be a good girl, Caitlyn, and give up.”

I shook my head, even though I suspected she was right.  The two Objects of Power seemed evenly matched - whoever had forged them originally had been brilliant - but the Crown Prince had an advantage.  I didn't know much about swordfighting - young ladies of refinement were expected to use magic, not swords - yet it was clear that Akin was slowly being pushed back.  His sword was having to expend too much energy compensating for his weaknesses.  The Crown Prince had a slight, but very definite advantage.

Whirlpool thrummed in my hand, just waiting to be triggered.  My fingers started to inch towards the switch of their own accord.  If I triggered it, if I sucked away all the magic in the chamber ... what then?  The swords would stop working, but so would everything else.  We’d still be facing the Crown Prince.  Akin was strong for his age, like me, but the Crown Prince would be stronger and more experienced.  He’d beat us both up before the magic field recovered, if it ever did.

And the swords might start failing, if they stay here, I thought, numbly.  Objects of Power drew on the magic field ... and it was weaker in the wardchamber.  And what will happen then?

The Crown Prince brought his sword down, hard.  It crashed into Akin’s sword with an ear-splitting sound, loud enough to make my ears ring.  The force of the impact pushed Akin back, driving him towards the wall.  He fought back desperately, the blade moving so quickly that it was practically a blur of light, but the Crown Prince was slowly gaining the upper hand.  Akin’s face was cold and hard, chillingly adult - he’d given in to the sword - yet he was still losing.  The end couldn't be long delayed.

I ran forward without thinking, holding up the dispeller as if it was a spellcaster.  The Crown Prince whirled with terrifying speed, slashing out at me.  There was another blinding flash as his sword hit the dispeller - a blast that picked me up and threw me across the chamber and into the walls - and then Akin buried his sword in the Crown Prince’s back.  For a moment, for a horrific moment, it seemed that even a mortal wound wasn't enough to stop him.  His armour was trying to seal the wound.

No wonder he looked stronger, I thought, as I checked Whirlpool.  If it had been damaged ..,. thankfully, for better or worse, Whirlpool was intact.  His armour was boosting both his strength and speed.

The Crown Prince staggered, his face a mask of agony as he fell to his knees.  I forced myself to stand, despite the pain.  I felt as though I’d been kicked in the chest ... perhaps I had.  The Crown Prince might have managed to kick me, when the dispeller had shattered.  He presumably wanted - needed - me alive.  I coughed hard - it hurt to cough - as I looked at him.  His armour was slowly sealing the wound.  I couldn't believe it.  I’d heard legends, but none of them had come close to the truth.

Akin growled - it wasn't his growl - and lashed out with his sword, beheading the Crown Prince.  I watched in horror as his body fell to the stone floor, his head landing next to it.  His sword hit the ground with a clatter, the blade going dim.  It would remain there until I rigged up a cradle to carry it or someone with the right bloodline came along.  I was tempted to suggest, afterwards, that we simply buried the sword.  It was too dangerous in the wrong hands.

I looked up at Akin.  He was staring at me, his face utterly inhuman ... the sword had him, again.  I took a long breath, wondering if I dared trigger Whirlpool now.  If the sword lost its magic, would it lose its grip on his mind?  Or would it do permanent harm ...

“I will not be beaten by this,” Akin said.  He lowered the sword, carefully.  “You will obey me.”

I let out a sigh of relief.  I didn't think the sword would obey him permanently - an Object of Power like that had to be mastered constantly or it would master the wielder - but for the moment it would behave itself.  Akin was growing stronger and stronger all the time, his self-confidence growing by leaps and bounds every time he taught the sword to obey him.  I just hoped he’d be able to keep it up.  A single slip would be enough to send him plunging back into its clutches.

We shared a long look.  He seemed tired, but happy.  Sweat shone on his brow.  His body looked ... thinner, somehow, but he was smiling.  He’d won ...

“How very sweet,” Great Aunt Stregheria observed.  “But tell me ... what now?”

Akin turned and slashed out with the sword before I could stop him.  The outer layer of wards shattered, allowing a wave of raw magic to be discharged towards Akin.  He held up the blade, absorbing the magic, but ... the force of the impact was enough to push him back, shoving the sword out of the wards.  There was no time to take advantage of their weakness before they reasserted themselves.  Great Aunt Stregheria had done a very good job.

“It may surprise you to know that Anna the Artificer designed these,” Great Aunt Stregheria said, indicating the Devices of Power.  “Her notes were hidden away in the family archives, concealed behind a layer of dust.  I suspect your father never knew they were there.  We keep putting things we want to lose in the files, after all.”

She smiled, as one does at a joke that isn't really funny.  “I must congratulate you on killing Henry,” she added, calmly.  Her fingers were brushing the Devices of Power.  “Of course, you will have to stand trial for treason.  Compassing the death of the heir apparent ...?  I think that’s punished by something lingering in boiling oil.”

I opened my mouth to make a sarcastic remark, then stopped when I realised she was stalling for time.  “You’ve lost,” I said, as I reached for Whirlpool.  “Give up.”

“Don’t be an utter idiot, Caitlyn,” Great Aunt Stregheria said.  Her voice was very cold.  And hard.  “There’s nothing left for me now.”

“I can talk to Dad,” I said.  She was doing something.  I knew it.  “We can keep you prisoner ...”

“I’d sooner die,” Great Aunt Stregheria said.  The Devices of Power blazed with light.  “Goodbye.”

The building shook, again.  She was overpowering the wards, trying to rip the entire school apart.  I couldn't hesitate any longer.  Whirlpool came to life in my hands, glowing a sickly yellow colour that was somehow wrong.  I had a sense of wheels turning and discs spinning as the glow got brighter.  All of that power had to do something ...

Akin cried out, but I didn't dare look away from Great Aunt Stregheria.  The wards around her were flicking and fading, twisting in and out of visibility and then snapping out of existence one by one.  She was staring at me in utter horror, snapping her fingers at me time and time again.  I recognised the pose - she was trying to kill me - but it was pointless.  She couldn't generate a single spark.  The building shuddered - I heard the sound of falling masonry in the distance - and she collapsed to her knees.  The last of her magic faded an instant later.

Her mouth opened.  “Cat ...”

She fell forward.  It struck me, suddenly, that she’d been using magic to prolong her life ... and now her magic was gone.  And now her years were catching up with her.  I could see her black hair turning grey, her face growing older with terrifying speed ... I looked away, torn between horror and vindictive glee, as her breathing stopped.  She was dead ...

... And I’d killed her.

Whirlpool grew hot in my hand.  I let go, hastily, an instant before the Object of Power tore itself apart.  Darkness fell, a darkness so absolute that it was almost a living thing.  The ever-present glow from the Object of Power that fuelled the wards was gone.  I’d killed it too.

Akin was muttering a cantrip, time and time again.  I wondered, numbly, if he was wasting his time.  There might no longer be any magic in the chamber.  And then a faint glow appeared.  I felt a rush of pure relief.  I hadn't destroyed magic, forever.

“Cat,” Akin managed.  The light grew brighter, but there was something wrong with the spell.  “What was that?”

“I’ll explain later,” I said.  Whirlpool was beyond repair.  The pieces were corroded so badly that no one would be able to figure how it was built or put them back together.  “Is your sword working?”

Akin picked up the sword from the floor.  It glowed the moment he touched it, but it was weak.  There just wasn't enough magic in the chamber to allow it to work properly.  I shivered as I heard the sound of running footsteps.  The Crown Prince’s men were on the way and we were practically defenceless.

“Akin,” Isabella said.  “I’m sorry ...”

“Be quiet,” Akin snapped.  “We’ll deal with you later.”

He picked up the Crown Prince’s head as the men hurried into the chamber.  “The battle is over,” he said, holding the head in one hand and his sword in the other.  I wasn't sure who or what was doing the talking.  “Your master is dead.  The battle is over.  Throw down your weapons and you will not be harmed.”

There was a long pause, then they did as they were told.

I breathed a sigh of relief.  It was over.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

“I don’t know how she managed to get the blasting hex through the wards,” Dad said, two days later. We stood in front of Aguirre Hall and inspected the remains of the South Wing.  “But you’re right.  Stregheria must have carried it into the house herself.”

I looked at him, worried.  Dad sounded ... despondent, as if he could no longer muster the energy to go on.  He wasn't the only one, either.  I’d heard that most of the other hostages were having similar problems, as were the teachers.  They’d been moved to another location and held there until the remnants of the Crown Prince’s forces surrendered.  They were still trying to come to terms with the sheer scale of the Crown Prince’s betrayal.

“She betrayed us,” I said, slowly.  I’d killed her.  I wasn't sure how I felt about that.  Great Aunt Stregheria had been a monster, even before she’d betrayed the family.  And the entire city.  “She must have spent years plotting ways to circumvent the outer wards.”

“And making her plans with the Crown Prince,” Dad agreed.  “His household sang like birds, once they realised it was all over.  They had to move up their plans sharply after that wretched sword resurfaced.  It wouldn't have done for the House War to explode before they were ready to take advantage of it.”

I nodded as I looked up at the remains of the South Wing.  The supporting walls had survived the blast, but the remainder of the section had been destroyed.  It looked like a blackened climbing frame for oversized children, covered in ash.  There had been fourteen people - all lesser family - in the South Wing when it had been destroyed.  No bodies had been found, despite an intensive search.  Their remains were somewhere amongst the ashes in front of us.

We’ll have to bury the ash in the family crypt, I thought.  And hope we’ve laid them to rest properly.

“And now the House War is over,” I said.  “Isn't it?”

Dad sighed.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “Akin has the sword, doesn't he?  And a treacherous sister?”

I nodded.  I hadn't seen anything of Isabella since she’d been marched out of the school, but I suspected she - as an underage child - would have been handed over to her father.  I almost felt sorry for her.  Carioca Rubén would not take her betrayal lightly.  Even if he wanted to go lightly on her, the rest of his family would not agree.  Isabella would be lucky if she was only disowned and thrown into the nearest workhouse.

“I suppose that does make it harder for them to point the finger at us,” Dad said.  “It wasn't just Stregheria who went mad and betrayed everyone.”

He sighed.  “But the sword still hangs between us,” he said.  “And while we do have to hang together, or hang separately--” he smiled, humourlessly “--we still hate each other.  The House War may resume the moment we’re sure the king wasn't secretly backing his son all along.”

“And they have the sword,” I said.  I wasn't sure if the sword was still in good condition or not - Carioca Rubén would hardly agree to let me examine it - but it didn't matter.  The mere threat of them having and wielding the sword would reignite the war, if we didn't find a peaceful solution.  “We have to end the House War now.”

Dad lifted a single eyebrow.  “And how do you propose to do that?”

My mouth was dry.  I swallowed hard.

“You betroth me to Akin,” I said, carefully.  “And the sword serves as a symbol of the betrothal.”

Dad looked away.  “Cat ... do you understand what you’re suggesting?”

I nodded, although he couldn't see.  “I’m twelve.  So is he.  The earliest we can get married is when we turn seventeen, five years from now.  That’s five years of peace before we have to make a final decision about the marriage.”

“It’s more than that,” Dad said.  He looked back at me, his face a blank mask.  I could tell he was agitated.  “Cat ... if they agree, it would work.  Five years of peace ... it isn't something to sniff at.  But it would hang over you for the rest of your life.  Everyone ... everyone would act as though they expect you to marry him when you turn seventeen, whatever you actually intend to do.  You might ... you might find yourself pushed into marrying him anyway, no matter how you - or he - feels about it.  If everything hangs on this match ...”

“I understand,” I said.

“I’d be surprised if you did,” Dad said.  “You’re young.  You don’t understand what it means to spend the rest of your life with a single person.  Or what sort of pressure can be brought to bear against a young woman - or man - to go through with a match she no longer wants.  I might not be Patriarch at that time, Cat.  I might not be able to protect you.”

Because the family council might want to force me to go through with it anyway, I thought, grimly.  It was a risk.  I knew it was a risk.  But I couldn't think of any other solution.  The House War must not be allowed to restart.

“I can take the risk,” I said.  “I will take the risk.”

Dad’s eyes narrowed.  “Did you discuss it with him?”

I shook my head.  “I didn't have time.  You yanked me away from the school as soon as the streets were safe again.”

A thought struck me.  “Will Akin be in trouble?  He did kill the Crown Prince.”

“Perhaps, but I doubt it,” Dad said.  “The Crown Prince had a very ingenious plot underway, one that would have worked if he’d had more time to lay the foundations properly.  Akin may be persona non grata in Tintagel for a while, but I don't think he’ll be in any real trouble.”

He met my eyes.  “But here you are, making decisions for him,” he said.  “You don’t even know how he will feel about it.”

“I know,” I said.  “But ... if he doesn't want to go through with it, we won’t make a fuss.  Will we?”

“It depends on how much comes to ride on the planned match,” Dad said.  He shrugged, artlessly.  “At best, we build a genuine alliance that doesn't hinge on a formal wedding; at worst, we have five years to rebuild and prepare for the next round.  If a blood-tie was deemed necessary, we might have to make a fuss.  I’d have to read and review the contract very carefully, just to make sure we could back out - if you wanted - without dire consequences.”

“And make sure they can do it too,” I said.

“Quite,” Dad agreed.  He took a long breath.  “Have you mentioned this to anyone else?”

“No,” I said.  “I wanted to ask you first.”

“I’ll have to discuss it with your mother, then with the family council,” Dad said.  “If they agree, I can make a formal offer for a betrothal.  It might be accepted.  I don’t know.”

“I could ask Akin,” I suggested.

Dad shot me a sharp look.  “Akin will not be the one signing the papers,” he said.  “And, right now, he isn’t the one whose opinion matters.”

He met my eyes.  “This is going to haunt you for a long time, Cat.  You’ll be taught to dance formally when you become an upperclassman; Akin will always be your partner.  It will not be proper for a betrothed couple to dance with anyone else.  You may find you fall in love with someone else ... and, when you do, you will have to sneak around because the slightest rumour could destroy the betrothal.  And ... you will be chaperoned when you’re alone with him.  Always.  Your freedom will be curtailed for a very long time.”

I looked back at him.  “Is that a bad thing?”

“Your mother and I were never betrothed,” Dad said.  “But others who were ... some had a good time, even though the betrothals were eventually cancelled.  Others had a harder time of it.  A couple of matches ... well, we’ll discuss those later, if House Rubén doesn't tell us to forget the idea right from the start.  You need to go into this with your eyes wide open.”

“Yes, Dad,” I said.

“I’ll discuss it with your mother first,” Dad said.  “You are not to discuss this with anyone else, even Rose, until I give you permission.  Not one hint, young lady.  I mean it.”

I nodded.  “Yes, Dad.”

“Good,” Dad said.  “Now ...”

“There’s something else I wanted to discuss,” I said, before he could dismiss me.  “I had an idea for something we - Aguirre and Rubén - could do together.”

“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 exams, 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.

“Akin,” I said, again.  “What happened to Isabella?”

Akin looked pained.  “It has been decided, by the family council, that Isabella will be shipped to one of our more distant estates, where she will be expected to remain until the council decides otherwise,” he said.  “The person who runs the estate can and will give her a certain degree of tutoring, which she will need if she is allowed to leave, but little else.  It will be a drab and lonely existence.”

“Ouch,” I said.  I almost felt sorry for her.  I’d expected a similar fate, once my lack of magic became clear.  “Will she ever be released?”

“I don’t know,” Akin said.  “She is young, after all.  If she’d been an adult when she threw her lot in with the Crown Prince ...”

“Disowned,” I finished.  “Or worse.”

“Yeah,” Akin said.  “A fate worse than death.”

I shrugged.  Isabella was used to living in a mansion, to the company of her peers, to a small army of servants doing her every bidding ... she wasn't going to find it easy to adjust to a country estate.  And she was in disgrace.  The estate would have servants, people who kept it running, but they wouldn't be at Isabella’s beck and call.  Her guardian would probably make her do everything from getting dressed to brushing her hair by herself.  I was pretty sure Isabella would hate it.

And she’ll be very alone, I thought.  If there’s no one even close to her age there ...

“What happened to you afterwards?”  I asked.  “I mean ... you killed the Crown Prince.”

“There were a great many questions,” Akin said.  “But it seems that no one is interested in trying to prosecute me.  The Crown Prince was a traitor, plain and simple.  Father thinks I should watch my back for a bit, but otherwise ...”

Rose coughed.  “What about the Princess?  And her children?”

“The Princess will probably be shipped back to North Cairnbulg,” Akin said.  “Father says it isn't clear how much she knew in advance, but ... she must have known something.  The children ... I don't know.  Her oldest child is technically the heir to both kingdoms, but seeing North Cairnbulg participated in a coup attempt ...”

He shook his head.  “I have no idea how it’s going to work out.”

I frowned.  I’d wanted to ask about him, after he’d killed the Crown Prince.   Great Aunt Stregheria had haunted my dreams, even though I hadn't killed her directly.  Akin might be having nightmares of his own.  But I knew I couldn't ask him about them.  Boys his age rarely wanted to open themselves up, emotionally.  It made them feel vulnerable.

Akin cleared his throat.  “Did they find the remains of the Objects of Power you made?  You know, while we were prisoners?”

“They recovered some from Great Aunt Stregheria’s townhouse,” I said.  The Crown Prince had sent the Kingsmen on a wild goose chase.  They’d been trying to make up for lost time ever since they’d returned to discover what had happened in their absence.  “But others remain unaccounted for.”

“They might have been stolen,” Rose said.  “Or used during the House War.”

I nodded.  “We’ll probably never know.”

“Unless they surface,” Akin said.  He tapped the sword at his belt.  “Dad thanks you for this, by the way.”

He coloured.  “You could have asked me first.”

I took a breath.  “I’m sorry,” I said, honestly.  “But ... I wanted to get our fathers thinking about a betrothal as quickly as possible.”

“I dare say you succeeded,” Akin said.  He smiled, rather wanly.  “You also got my father out of a hole.  He owes you a favour.”

Rose leaned forward.  “That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” I said.  I met his eyes.  “We don’t have to go through with it.  Not if we change our minds when we’re older ...”

Akin snickered.  “We could stay in education until we turned twenty-one, if we wished.  It isn't common for students to get married, is it?”

“No,” I said.  “But there would come a time when we would have to decide.”

“Not yet,” Akin said.  “And that’s all that matters right now.”

Rose smiled.  “I’m sure you two will be very happy together.”

Akin blushed.  “Are we even going to be in the same school?”

“I don’t know,” I said.  “If we actually do set up a school for Zeroes ... then no.”

“That might make life harder, in some ways,” Akin mused.  “But easier too.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.  “It could.”

I shared a small smile with him.  It wouldn't be easy - we both knew it wouldn't be easy - but at least we were on the same side.  The House War would not be allowed to reignite, now or ever.  And that was all that mattered.

“Thank you,” I said, quietly.  “Both of you.  For being my friends.”

“You are more than welcome,” Akin said, formally.

“You two.”  Rose laughed, then caught hold of our arms.  “Let’s go.”

The End

Afterword

It amused me, after all the kerfuffle about who could and who couldn't write ‘characters of colour’ that very few people mentioned Cat’s skin colour - she’s black - and no one complained.  And it pleased me too, because it suggested that the readers were looking past an unimportant attribute - particularly in a fantasy setting - and concentrating on the character within.  All things considered, it was something of a relief.

But why is she black?

Many years ago, I met a student at university.  She was wheelchair-bound (I believe she couldn't move anything below the waist) and ... well, I wouldn't have blamed her for giving up on life.  She was Somali, I believe; an accident of fate had ensured that she could neither live a traditional life within her community nor find it easy to live outside it.  And yet, she persisted in the truest possible sense.  She didn't let the bad hand she’d been dealt overcome her.  She worked hard, she studied ... I like to think she got a job where her intelligence and determination was appreciated, despite her disabilities.

I liked her.  More to the point, I respected her.  And Cat is based - to some extent - on her.

It is a fundamental truth that some people face many difficulties in their lives.  That’s simply what happens.  Some of those problems are internal - poor health - and others are external; abusive parents, limited income, crime-ridden areas.  But true worth lies in finding a way to overcome those problems and triumph over adversity.  A story of someone who succeeds in life is one I would find inspiring.

***

You may be interested to know some of the background to The Zero Enigma.

Like I said in The Zero Blessing, I've always been a little annoyed by stories that focus on a certain macguffin, normally an ancient device of untold power that will reshape the world if the good guys find it - or destroy it, if the bad guys find it.  Sometimes it’s justified - the One Ring, perhaps - but mostly I wonder why the good guys can't build anything better.  Technology marches on; there are things we don’t understand about roman roads and bridge-building techniques, but we can do better than our distant ancestors.  Why should an ancient device of lost power be more effective than a modern-day device?

And then I had something of an inspiration.

I’ve cooked since I was in my early teens, but I’ve been expanding my culinary skills since we moved into our current home.  One night, I determined that I was going to cook roast beef for my parents; a difficult task, as my mother is one of the greatest cooks I know.  The beef was superb, the potatoes were crispy, the gravy ... the gravy tasted like engine oil.  I’d messed up, somehow.  And when I swallowed my pride and asked my mother for help, she suggested adding something sweet - redcurrant jelly.  Abracadabra!  The gravy was suddenly tasty!

And it got me thinking.  What other secrets might have been lost over the years because no one thought to write them down?

It’s actually quite terrifying to think about how little the average person knows about maintaining modern technology.  Can you repair a laptop?  Or craft a new light bulb?  Or fix a modern car?  Grow food?  Create medicine?  Build a gun?  Look around you - I bet good money that the vast majority of my readers couldn't do that much to rebuild civilisation, if there was a major disaster.  Even going back to the days of yore would be pretty much impossible.  How many of us know how to build a steam engine?  If much of modern tech was busted - an EMP strike, perhaps - that which remained would be impossible to duplicate.

So I started with the concept of Objects of Power - and the Zeroes, who were needed to create them.  The Thousand-Year Empire was not keen on advertising the source of its power, so Zeroes were quietly brought to the Eternal City and put to work ... rather than being allowed to set off on their own.  Not all of them would be happy at such treatment, of course, so some of them would find a way to rebel.  Like Cat, they were ingenious; unlike Cat, they were angry at their society and sought revenge.  They found a way to shatter the core of the empire.

And, after the empire collapsed, people who had working Objects of Power had a very definite advantage.  Naturally, magicians started trying to duplicate what was lost.  But, because they didn't understand what was missing, all they could do was create pale imitations of the long-lost Objects of Power.  Devices of Power had their advantages, of course, but they weren't the same.  It took Cat to put the pieces together and realise what was missing.

***

This book ends this part of Cat’s adventures, although - as you may have guessed - she has a long life ahead of her.  I’m still thinking about what is to come - on one hand, I want a story about an older Cat exploring the remains of the Eternal City and discovering the dark secrets of the Thousand-Year Empire; on the other hand, I also want to send Cat on a long voyage to Hangchow.

However, I’ve been considering a number of other stories and characters set within the same universe.  Let me know which ones you’d like to see.  Obviously, all of these titles are provisional.

The Alchemist’s Apprentice follows a young apprentice who gets drawn into a deadly plot to reshape society.  Unlike Cat, the apprentice would be poor - more used to the darker side of Shallot than high society.

The Last Stand follows a young man who becomes a soldier in the army - and fights a desperate battle to protect the kingdom when war breaks out (because Cat’s mere existence upsets the balance of power.)

The Hangchow Connection would follow an exhibition to Hangchow, on the other side of the world, where the adventurers would find themselves dragged into a very deadly (and ancient) threat.

Isabella’s Story would follow Isabella during her exile, when she grows up and discovers that some things are more important than status.

Christopher G. Nuttall

Edinburgh, 2018

Appendix: Magic in Allrianne

It is important to understand that very few people on Allrianne understand the true nature of magic.  Even the Thousand-Year Empire, which codified the first principles of magic, didn't really understand what they were doing.  Only a handful of people realised the truth and they never talked before the empire fell.  (See The Zero Curse for details.)  Much of magical knowledge, therefore, is based on flawed understanding.

Magic is believed to be a talent shared by the vast majority of the population.  Everyone has magic, some people just have more of it than others.  A person who ranks low on the magic scale - the Empire rated magicians on a scale of one to ten, with the average being three or four - can rise higher, simply by practicing and practicing until they develop their magical strength.  A child who starts practicing magic at a very early age will be stronger than most adults by the time he or she enters school.  (And also have an intimate understanding of both magical knowledge and older languages.)  A child with a high magical rating can be born anywhere.

In reality, Allrianne is surrounded by a magic field that interfered with evolution.  Beasts such as dragons and basilisks evolved to the point they could draw on the magic field, either to fly or power their deadly gaze.  (A dragon could not hope to fly without magic.)  Plants became infused with magic, allowing them to be used as potion ingredients.  And humans evolved into living batteries of magic, instinctively absorbing and storing power from the magic field.  Human intelligence allowed that magic to be shaped into spells and cast; sometimes, when the human was pushed too far, the magic would be released by accident, sometimes injuring or killing anyone unlucky enough to be nearby.  The more humans practice with magic, the more magic they are able to store.

Channelling vast amounts of magic is immensely difficult.  While a sorcerer can turn someone into a frog for a short space of time (the spell tends to wear off) greater and longer-lasting works require the use of tools, runes and considerable preparation.  A sorcerer with time to prepare is a very dangerous enemy; a magician’s house tends to be spelled to protect him, giving him the advantage of the pre-prepared position.  Runes and suchlike draw on the magic levels in the air, but need to be triggered by a sorcerer to work.  Potions can be assembled from components with their own magic, yet - again - need a magician to start the process that turns them into magic.

(Many potions, rune drawings and suchlike can be prepared by a non-magician, but require a considerable dose of magic to get them to work.)

Most magical children are homeschooled from the moment their magic appears, where they are taught how to draw and develop their magic.  Once they turn 12, most magical children go to a magical academy, where they are taught the basics of more complex magics - everything from potions brewing to geometrics (the art of drawing runes.)  Children born to non-magic families tend to operate at a considerable disadvantage, as they are rarely taught control before they go to school.  (They aren’t inferior, but they have to learn to draw on their magic before they can actually use it, which needs proper lessons.)

‘Theoretical Mages’ are magical theorists.  Not all of them can perform magic to a high standard, but they tend to be very good at working out the interplay of runes, hand-movements and vocalisation to cast new spells.  It’s perfectly possible to cast a spell without knowing what it does, but magicians tend to get better results when they do know what it does.

A tiny handful of people are born without any magic at all.  (In reality, they have no connection to the magic field.)  These people (Zeroes) are often impossible to differentiate from Ones and Twos, unless they’re unlucky enough to be born into a family of strong magicians.  Unlike Ones and Twos, no amount of magical training will get magic out of a Zero - they simply don't have the ability to store magic, let alone cast spells.  This leaves them terrifyingly vulnerable, but it does have some advantages.  A Zero may be unable to resist anything from a simple compulsion or transfiguration to a long-term curse, yet none of these spells - even if reinforced by a Device of Power - will linger.  Very few spells will last longer than an hour if cast on a Zero.  They are also immune to certain types of magic - the werewolf and vampire curses, for example, only work if the victim has magic - although this is rarely noticeable.

Much to the frustration of magicians, the secret behind producing Objects of Power was lost during the wars that swept the continent over a thousand years ago.  Objects of Power are items that draw on the magic field itself (like runes, but to a far greater extent) and confer great gifts upon their owners.  There are swords that cut through anything, shields that protect the wearer from anything, trinkets that confer a degree of magical immunity ... such items are literally priceless, as no post-Empire sorcerer has managed to duplicate them.  There are many sorcerers that produce shoddy imitations, Devices of Power, but such items rarely last long.

[The problem is that the magicians who attempt to forge such devices are imbuing them with their own power, which refuses to work in harmony with the natural magic.  Even a very low power magician would have problems making an Object of Power work.  The only people who can make them reliably are Zeroes.]

Relatively few Objects of Power survived the fall of the empire, leaving behind legends, rumours and the very real prospect of someone discovering a long-lost Object and using it to found a new kingdom.  The people who do possess Objects - all of which are literally priceless - use them to bolster their powers and secure their rule.  Even a mere Family Sword - a weapon bonded to a specific bloodline - can have importance far beyond what its powers might suggest.

King Rufus is rumoured to possess a sword and scabbard that makes its wearer invincible in battle.  The Kingsmen possess armour passed down from the Eternal City itself.  Other notable Objects of Power include the Willing Wand, the Frog Maker, the Truth Stone and the Throne of Seder.

The original Devices of Power were forged in Shallot - according to legend - when sorcerers first realised that forging Objects of Power was harder than it looked.  They took the original instruction books (which neglected to mention the need for a Zero) and tried to find a simpler way of crafting Objects.  The Devices they made were more flexible than the Objects of Power, but they decayed rapidly (the magic they used to imbue the Devices reacted badly to the pure magic from the magic field.)  A Device of Power can be overpowered or simply countered, unlike Objects of Power.  However, they can also be repaired relatively easily; an Object of Power, if broken, is almost always impossible to fix.

Magic is omnipresent within Allrianne, with even the merest peasant using magic on a regular basis.  (To light fires, for example.)  It is rare for so much magic to be used that it actually drains the local magic field, but it does happen.  Particularly intensive battles, for example, do tend to cause localised drains, often ending the fighting or turning it into a hand-to-hand engagement.  (This is why soldiers carry swords as well as spellcasters.)  It is generally believed that such engagements involve so many spells that they are interfering with each other, but that isn't correct.  In reality, the local magic field has been lowered to the point it cannot be used until it has time to regenerate.

It is important to remember that Tintagel and the other kingdoms do not use magic as extensively as the Thousand-Year Empire.  There are no flying cities, no homes forged out of cloud-stuff, no flying machines, no gateways that allow a person to step across the empire in a heartbeat ... indeed, it is possible that the Eternal City would have suffered a disaster in the next few hundred years even without Tristan and his followers.  The magic does not go away, but it can be drained ...

Appendix: The World of Allrianne and the Kingdom of Tintagel

Allrianne is effectively divided into three continents, formerly four (see below).  Maxima and Minima, separated by the Inner Sea, were once ruled by the Thousand-Year Empire before its collapse.  To the east, on the far side of the Desolation, lies Hangchow, home of a civilisation that is barely known to the denizens of Maxima and Minima; to the west lies the Saragossa Archipelago, presumably once a continent itself before being shattered by an unknown force somewhere in the distant past.  There are a handful of island nations near both known civilisations, mostly engaged in sailing and fishing.

Very little is known for certain about the history of Maxima and Minima prior to the Thousand-Year Empire, although stories of lost emperors and god-kings echo down the ages.  What is known is that a mid-sized city in Southern Maxima developed the first true understanding of magical principles, allowing it to rapidly conquer most of Maxima (as far north-east as the edge of the Desolation) and then much of Minima.  Unlike previous conquerors, the Thousand-Year Empire was smart enough to integrate vast numbers of the natives into its system, allowing them to join the empire and work their way up the ranks.  A culture hegemony was effectively imposed that would last until the empire’s fall, although rumours of hidden civilisations in unexplored regions of Minima or deep within the Desolation continue to this day.

Very little is also known about what happened to the Thousand-Year Empire.  Records are sparse; there was a magical disaster of some kind (the Eternal City and the eastern half of the Inner Sea are no-go zones as far as the vast majority of people are concerned) and the subsequent civil war destroyed much of the remaining imperial administration.  Civilisation itself took a major blow, almost collapsing before reforming around the remnants of imperial administrators ... now styling themselves kings and queens in their own right.  A thousand years after the Fall, Maxima and Minima are divided into a number of kingdoms that compete endlessly for power.  Although the kings claim to want to reunite the empire, it is growing clear that none of them can do it.

(In our terms, Maxima is Europe, Minima is Africa and Hangchow is China.)

The Kingdom of Tintagel sits on the northern edge of the Inner Sea (roughly Southern France, in our terms.)  To the north, it is bordered by the Princedoms of Ardrossan; to the north sit the kingdoms of Galashiels and Balamory; to the east lies the abandoned core of the Thousand-Year Empire; to the south, on the other side of the Inner Sea, sits the kingdom of North Cairnbulg.  Tintagel has a long history of rivalry with Galashiels (over disputed land) and North Cairnbulg (over trade).  Despite that, in the hopes of cooling down tensions, King Rufus married his son to the Princess of North Cairnbulg.

Like most kingdoms in the post-empire world, Tintagel was founded by a warlord who found himself in a position that allowed him to translate his military force (he was originally the commander of the Tintagel City Garrison) into long-term power.  The kingdom expanded until it reached its natural borders, swallowing up a number of minor kingdoms and principalities, either through force or negotiation.  Over the years, as the continent stabilised, Tintagel became one of the great powers, engaging in overt and covert conflict with its rivals as it struggled for supremacy.  The royal line, too, changed over the years.  Very few people will admit it, but the current monarchs have no link to the original monarchs, let alone the Thousand-Year Empire.

In theory, Tintagel is ruled by King Rufus the Bold of Tintagel (known as King Rufus the Fat to his braver subjects.)  In practice, owing to the high concentrations of magic within the kingdom, there are a number of limits on the king’s power.  First amongst them is Parliament, divided into the House of Aristocracy (long-term landed aristocracy) and the House of Money (elected by taxpayers.)  While the king still wields substantial power, parliament can limited him by refusing to vote funds or confirm treaties.  Indeed, majorities in both houses are enough to dispose a king, although historically this has only ever been done as a rubber stamp once the king was safely removed from power.  The king is thus forced to wheel and deal with parliament if he wants to get anything done.

Below that, the Great Charter guarantees the rights of all subjects, from the proudest lord to the lowliest peasant.  Outside wartime, even the King cannot break the Great Charter lightly; Parliament may quietly agree with him, but they are unwilling to allow such a precedent to be set without resistance.

King Rufus and Queen Eleanor have one son; Henry, Crown Prince of Tintagel.  Henry is married to Queen Saffron of North Cairnbulg; so far, they have two young children.  Below the Crown Prince, King Rufus has three daughters, five nephews, seven nieces and a number of other relatives who are in the line of succession and technically have the right to be called prince or princess.

The Crown Prince is, technically, his father’s closest advisor and commander of his armies.  In recent years, however, there have been stresses and strains on their relationship: the Crown Prince wants more power and freedom, including an estate of his own, while the king wishes to keep as much power as possible concentrated in his own hands.  The Crown Prince does not even have anything to reward his followers that doesn't come from his father.  While he is still in line to inherit, he has started to withdraw more from courtly life.

Politically, Tintagel is divided into estates (ruled by the king and his noblemen), freeholds (independent settlements) and semi-independent cities.  By tradition, the freeholds and cities enjoy a considerable amount of freedom in exchange for tax, although in practice this can vary widely.  Falladine, a city on the border with Galashiels, is effectively ruled directly by the king’s representative, as skirmishes are not uncommon along the borders.  The king is still permitted to recruit soldiers from the cities, although the army’s commanders prefer peasants.  They tend to be less aware of their rights.

Landed aristocracy are expected to pay a certain amount of money each year in tax, as well as serving as the king’s representatives and army officers.  Commoners who earn more than a set amount each year have to pay tax, but are compensated for this by the right to vote, stand for parliament, etc.  (Social mobility is quite high, particularly in the cities, but there is a certain amount of discrimination in favour of the children of taxpayers.)  The aristocracy often tries to integrate particularly brilliant or successful commoners into its ranks, normally by proposing marriage alliances.  (The children of such marriages are considered equal to the children of pure-blooded noblemen.)

Power and position within the aristocracy depends on landholding; the larger the estate, the more powerful the nobleman.  It does tend to vary at times, depending on ready cash and a number of other factors, but generally land equals power.  Senior aristocrats may be relatively secure in their positions, yet even they may face challenges from lesser family or a sudden assassination that sees a shift in the balance of power.  There are constant rumours about aristocrats who get into debt, putting up chunks of their estates as collateral.

There is no (legal) slavery within Tintagel, although lower-ranking peasants are often tied to the land (with the cities as escape valves for particularly rebelliously-minded peasants, who might otherwise cause trouble.)  There is also a remarkable degree of sexual equality; women can do almost everything a man can, save for serving in the army.  It isn't uncommon to encounter households - even the noblest - led by a woman.

There is no organised religion within Tintagel.  Most people worship - more accurately, honour - their ancestors, regardless of whatever they actually did.  A handful of peasants worship the land and seasons, celebrating the changing of the seasons with elaborate ceremonies.   The monarchy tries to get people to honour long-dead kings, but success is very limited outside the Royal Family.

Appendix: Life In Shallot

Although the city of Shallot is strikingly multiracial, it is actually quite monocultural.  There is very little variation amongst the long-term residents and even newcomers to the city rapidly pick up and adapt to its social norms.  Despite this - and the rule of the Great Houses - Shallot is also a place where an intelligent and capable man can rise high, even without a blood connection to the ruling class.  Indeed, being a ‘new man’ - i.e. someone who came from nothing and became a wealthy or powerful personage - is regarded as a badge of honour.  A ‘new man’ will find himself invited to marry into the Great Houses or, if he is very lucky, will have the chance to found a House of his own.

With two exceptions, Shallot does not draw lines between people.  Women have the same rights as men, more or less; they have the right to save money, own property, sign contracts, seek redress through the courts, etc.  The first is the simple fact that the highest places in the city are reserved for native children - although the child of a ‘new man’ might win a seat on Magus Court - thus ensuring that public policy remains firmly in the hands of the locals.  The second is a quiet, but pervasive discrimination against people who cannot state their family lines back at least five generations.  Family is very important in Shallot and people who lack a family often suffer for it.  (Even bastardry carries no stigma, if the child knows his or her father.)  This accounts for the problems faced by the children sired by Hangchowese sailors, very few of whom know anything about their father’s family.  They tend to slip into the underclass because it’s hard for them (and their descendents) to marry well.

Shallot was originally founded in the middle era of the Thousand-Year Empire, a port city on the northern edge of the Inner Sea.  It’s proximity to the Gap allowed it to become a hub for trading, even as the iron ships of the empire explored the coastlines of Minima and probed westwards towards the Saragossa Archipelago.  (It isn't actually certain if the empire discovered the Saragossa Archipelago or had any contacts with Hangchow, although it is certainly technically possible.)  It grew into a centre of magic and trade before the Thousand-Year Empire collapsed into civil war, allowing the original City Fathers to keep the city safe despite the predations of various warlords and raiding factions.  When the Kingdom of Tintagel formed out of the remainder of the state, the city allied with the king in exchange for a specific degree of autonomy from the king’s rule.  The slow stabilisation of Maxima and North Minima allowed the city to become a new trading hub, although it was centuries before the old trading links were re-established.

The government of Shallot is probably best described as a mess, a result of the emergency measures used to save the city after the Thousand-Year Empire collapsed into civil war.  The Great Houses appoint representatives to the city’s council, as do the guilds; a handful of representatives are also elected by the moneyed and propertied classes.  Most laws are hashed out in private council first, then presented to the overall court.  (In theory, Shallot is subject to the king; in practice, Shallot goes its own way.)  Below Magus Court, the various guilds have considerable authority over their members, but no guild is exclusive.

Shallot is policed by the City Guard, who are armed and trained by the Great Houses.  (The Great Houses also possess armsmen of their own.)  The city also plays host to a number of Kingsmen, the king’s personal knights.  The Kingsmen are responsible for investigating serious crimes (including the kidnapping in The Zero Curse) and maintaining the peace.  However, given the rivalries between the Great Houses, it is generally agreed that the only thing really keeping the peace is a grim understanding that an all-out House War will be utterly devastating.

Shallot is effectively divided into three sections: North Shallot, South Shallot and Water Shallot, the latter being a large island and port city with a thriving naval trade.  North Shallot is the richest part of the city, home to merchants and traders as well as sorcerers, alchemists and enchanters; South Shallot is poorer, although also home to Jude’s Sorcerous Academy and Eupalinos Institute of Higher Learning.  The three sections are separated by the Shallot River, which runs south through Shallot and into the sea.

Magic runs strong in Shallot, with even the merest citizens having access to a considerable number of spells.  Much education is focused around magic, even for those who have no intention of treating magic as a career.  Indeed, those who cannot cast spells are known as Zeroes, a step down from the lowest recorded level (magicians are ranked from one to ten) and ruthlessly mocked, even though limited (or no) magic wouldn't be a handicap outside the city.  The Great Houses are keen to invite commoner magicians to marry into them, simply to keep the blood strong.  Visitors to the city are well-advised to memorise ways to indicate that they are human, in the event of a practical joker casting a spell and transfiguring them into a frog.  (Turning someone into an animal that cannot signal - a slug, for example - is illegal.)

Shallot is particularly known for both its ships - Shallot sends ships around the globe, ranging from short trips to nearby ports to year-long voyages to Hangchow - and for its forgers, who craft Devices of Power.  The latter, in particular, have made the city wealthy.  A skilled forger - or potions master, or charms master - can make his fortune with a few years of hard work.  Like everywhere else, Shallot has hundreds of forgers and artisans trying to duplicate the secret behind Objects of Power, although - so far - only one person has ever cracked the puzzle.

There are two general ways to know something about a denizen of Shallot.  The first lies in their clothing, which is often a mark of their social status.  Wealth and power is indicated by the materials used to make the clothes - silk, for example, is extremely expensive and worn only by the very wealthy - while family ties are marked by specific colours and suchlike.  (A family’s retainers will wear its colours, a family’s clients will wear its arms.)  A ‘new man’ will often adopt a flashy style of dress which is at variance with the more sober outfits of the established families, although this isn't seen as a bad thing (it is when done by the established families).  Poorer people use cheaper materials, but tend to mimic the styles of their betters; children are dressed in miniature versions of adult clothes.

The second lies in the way they wear their hair.  An underage boy (i.e. one who has not been declared a man) will wear his hair short, then draw it up into an elaborate hairstyle (or wear a regency-style wig) upon reaching adulthood.  An underage girl (i.e. one who has not yet had her Season)  will braid her hair, then let it hang down when she reaches adulthood.  Upon marrying, she will wear her hair up and keep it that way.  A homosexual man will grow his hair long; a lesbian woman will cut her hair short.  There’s no stigma attached to open homosexuality, but wearing the wrong hairstyle is sometimes seen as criminal.  Indeed, it is considered a form of false advertising.

Family is extremely important in Shallot and it is rare, indeed, for anyone to go against their family in a major way.  (It is possible to be disowned, but even that is rare.)  The Great Houses are actually webs of interconnecting families, tied together by a single bloodline; lesser family (i.e. ones some distance from the core family) are expected to support the core, rather than strike out on their own.  In exchange for loyalty, most families allow a certain degree of democracy, with the heads of each subfamily getting a say in family affairs.  A family is headed by a Patriarch or Matriarch, who holds the title for life, but he or she is subject to the family council.  Children (which includes boys who have not been declared adults and girls who haven’t had their Season) have no vote.

(There are no monotheistic or polytheistic religions on either Maxima or Minima.  Most people worship their ancestors, something enhanced by the presence of ghosts in areas of high magic.)

Multiple births - twins, triplets, etc - are regarded as a sign the children will be magically powerful.  It isn't actually clear if this is true, although the majority of aristocratic births are twins or triplets.  Accordingly most magicians use potions to try to encourage multiple births, with varying degrees of success.

By law, all children in Shallot have to receive a basic education, which generally takes place between eight and twelve.  The aristocracy (and their retainers) generally home-school their children, given them a comprehensive magical education as well as skills (older languages and suchlike) which are rarely taught to the poorer classes.  Commoner children normally attend primary schools, which are free.  Particularly smart children are often offered the chance to win scholarships and go to Jude’s (for magic) or Eupalinos (everything else).

At twelve, children either go to secondary school or straight into apprenticeships of varying degrees of formality.  Parents who wish to send their children to secondary school have to pay (academic achievement comes second)  or win a scholarship.  As both Jude’s and Eupalinos serve as places to meet and get to know the future leaders of society, it isn't uncommon for parents to go into debt to make sure their children can attend.  The friendships and patron-client networks forged in school can go on for life.  In the case of an apprenticeship, children generally trade service for instruction in a useful trade.  It isn't uncommon for an alchemist apprentice, for example, to rise high even without formal education at Jude’s.

When a child is deemed to have reached adulthood (normally, somewhere between eighteen and twenty, although a child can be declared adult at sixteen or as late as twenty-five) they undergo a ceremony.  Boys - men, now - normally have a private chat with their father, which often includes discussion of any family secrets and other matters before they don their first wig.  Aristocratic girls are generally presented at Court before the king (or his representative) for a formal dance, then they can wear their hair down and be courted as adults.  (Courting a girl who has not had her Season is regarded as extremely sinful regardless of the girl’s physical age.)   Commoner girls generally have a private party, then wear their hair down too.

It is unusual for anyone to be denied adulthood past twenty-five.  When it happens, it is generally assumed that there is something wrong with the child (i.e. some kind of mental problem) or the parents.  However, it is rare for anyone on the outside to intervene.  (A child might be emancipated if younger, but almost always with an appointed guardian.)

Courting is a process that generally involves both sets of parents, although some particularly brave or foolhardy couples will make the arrangements on their own.  Parents can and do arrange marriages for their children, but the children have the final say; a parent can suggest a martial partner, but not force one on their children.  Marriages are signed by a contract, then considered unbreakable unless the couple decide to separate.  This is rare and almost always causes problems, particularly if there are children.  (There are no problems when widows or widowers want to remarry.)

Marriages amongst the aristocracy generally take place between twenty and thirty, with the mother taking time off from her career to have children and then picking up again when the children are born.  (Aristocratic women often work from home or hire nannies to take care of the kids.)  It is quite unusual to  have one’s first marriage past thirty, although it has been known to happen.  Generally, wives are encouraged to have children first - while they’re young - and then return to their careers.

Some of the Great Houses engage in betrothals of their children, as a sign they are serious about a long-term alliance.  These arrangements don’t always last when the children come of age, as they are often not disposed to go through with the marriage.  It is generally believed that the alliance will still hold together, as both families have had a chance to get used to being allies even without the marriage.

Inheritance is a complicated issue.  The vast majority of a family’s possessions are entailed, passed down from Patriarch to Patriarch.  However, it is difficult to determine in advance just who will be the next Patriarch.  The family council makes the final choice, after considering all the possible options (technically, any family adult can become Patriarch.)  Some families have specific rules - House Rubén only has Patriarchs, for example - while others are far more open.  Possessions that are not entailed - money the parents earned on their own, for example - are normally shared amongst their biological children.  Occasionally, someone may ask for their inheritance early, taking the money at the price of being excluded from any future division of property.

As of Year 1993 (the dating system counts from the day the Thousand-Year Empire was formally established), the two most powerful Great Houses are House Aguirre and House Rubén.  Other significant houses include Alidade, Bolingbroke, Fitzwilliam and McDonald.

The forerunners of House Aguirre were native to Saltesh, a kingdom on the other side of the Great Minima Desert.  Already powerful magicians, they were ripe for recruitment when the Thousand-Year Empire circumvented the desert and pushed into Saltesh, accepting a subordinate position within the empire in exchange for education in ‘modern’ magic.  The core of the family moved to the Eternal City, where they realised that they were unlikely to be able to wield significant power simply because of the sheer multitude of other (well-established) families.  Accordingly, they moved to Shallot when the city was opened for trade and became one of the founding families when the city became independent, establishing a patronage network that bolsters their already-strong magic.

House Aguirre is known for its black skin, dark eyes and strong magic.  However, the Heirs Primus (the children of the Patriarch) are regarded as problematic.  Triplets; one is cruel, one is lazy and one appears to have no magic at all ...

House Rubén has a fair claim to being the oldest family in Shallot, with roots that lead all the way back to the early days of the Thousand-Year Empire.  Indeed, the current House Rubén is actually an offshoot of the original; unlike House Aguirre, House Rubén chose to move a small branch of the family to Shallot rather than relocate the entire family.  (Uncharitable observers suggest that the offshoot was led by the family disgrace, who was ordered out of the Eternal City to keep him from embarrassing the remainder of the family.)  It therefore took them decades to accept that the main body of the family had died in the Eternal City, by which point their rivals had established themselves firmly within the body politic.  Since then, House Rubén has slowly - but surely - battled to gain the prominence it feels it deserves.  The birth of two children - one a skilled magician, the other a skilled forger - seems to promise a new era for the family ...

Appendix: The Great Houses of Shallot

It is probably better to look at the Great Houses as clans, rather than families.  They are immense, even the smallest having over fifty senior members; they wield vast power and influence, at least in part, because they’re a gathering of powerful magicians.  Their power (and patronage networks) often stretch well beyond the boundaries of Shallot itself.

It’s fairly simple to define a Great House.  It must be a large and powerful faction of magicians, one that cannot be ignored by the rest of the city.  In theory, smaller families and guilds can possess the power of a Great House (and demand seats on Magus Court) but in practice they tend not to have much staying power.

A Great House is generally divided into four sections.  The greater family consists of the senior members nearest to the core bloodline; the lesser family consists of the senior members further away from the core, the children consist of the underage family members and the clients consist of unrelated magicians who have accepted the family’s patronage and sworn themselves to its service.  It is unusual for a member of the lesser family to have any say in the family’s internal affairs, but it has been known to happen; children and clients, of course, do not have any say at all.

The typical Great House is led by a Patriarch or Matriarch, who is elected by the family council (the greater family) and serves for life unless the council decides to remove him from his position.  A Patriarch wields considerable power over the family, although there are some limits; he is also expected to spend most of his day tending to the family's affairs, seeing to the education of its children and nurturing the family’s network of clients.  It is rare for a Patriarch to change things radically, as most Patriarchs come from the greater family and tend to regard tradition as inflexible.

The Patriarch’s day starts with breakfast, which is generally shared with his wife, children and closest relatives.  Once he has eaten, the Patriarch will converse with clients or work with his apprentices to further their magical studies a task that consumes most of the morning.  A Patriarch will then share lunch with his senior clients (an invitation to dinner is regarded as a great honour) before attending Magus Court (or the lesser law courts) to discuss city law or plead for his clients in a courtroom.  Dinner is shared with close family and rarely interrupted; the evening is free.

Lesser family members are either trained to serve the Great House (as servants, for example) or encouraged to go into positions that will allow their family to expand its influence.  This isn't necessarily a bad thing: the family butler, for example, wields considerable power in his own right.  Others go into teaching, where they tutor the family’s children, or join the family’s private armsmen.  The family will also provide the funds for a lesser family member who wishes to open a business or something else that may enhance the family’s position.

The family’s children (greater and lesser) receive private tuition in magic from the age of six, as well as an extensive education that covers everything from accident languages to law and family history.  A child is expected to be able to recite his or her entire family tree by the time they reach ten, allowing them to position themselves as heirs to ancient traditions.  Particularly clever and promising children are singled out for further training, which can be offered privately (and secretly).  A handful of children are sometimes dispatched to foreign schools, allowing them to make overseas contacts and keep abreast of magical developments outside Tintagel.

As they grow older, children are expected to attend formalised gatherings (and less formal parties) with children from other Great Houses.  This allows them to get to know their fellows before they go to Jude’s, while their parents can show off their magical progeny to their peers.  Courtly manners are drilled into them, to the point where making a mistake in etiquette can haunt someone for the rest of their life.

By law, children are effectively the property of their family (and effectively the family’s clients).  The Patriarch has vast authority when it comes to shaping their lives, although wise Patriarchs understand the dangers of being too strict or indulgent.  Magus Court (or other outside authorities) do not have the legal power to intervene, if they feel a child is being abused; that said, parents can be (and often are) held accountable for their child’s behaviour.

It is extremely uncommon for a family member to either betray the family or simply leave.  The vast majority of family members believe in the family, even if they don’t always like it.  Many of them wouldn't know what to do outside the family (and wouldn't have access to family funds.)  Indeed, the Patriarchs often try to help the discontented find a place where they will be happier, rather than forcing them to stay somewhere they’re unhappy.  That said, someone who wants to leave completely will often be given a severance package and formally disowned from the family.  They will no longer be considered part of their former clan.  A person who betrays the family, on the other hand, will be declared outcast.  They will have little hope of finding a safe place within the city.

Appendix: Jude’s Sorcerous Academy

Jude’s Sorcerous Academy - more commonly called simply Jude’s - is the largest school of magic within the Kingdom of Tintagel and one of the largest on the continent of Maxima.

Jude’s was founded as a basic school of magic shortly after Shallot was incorporated as a city within the Thousand-Year Empire, a place designed to train magicians and identify students who might benefit from a scholarship to the Eternal City.  It was considerably smaller in those days, although the school purchased vast tracts lands around the original building (accounting for its presence within South Shallot).  It wasn't until the civil war that put an end to the Thousand-Year Empire that Jude’s started to take on the character we know today; one of the premier magic schools within the continent.

The original building was relatively small.  However, as the school grew, more and more wings and buildings were added to the mix, giving the school a somewhat chaotic appearance.  Other buildings were swallowed up by the expanding school or pressed down and used as the base for other buildings.  The interior of the school is a maze, an absolute headache for new students who find it hard to navigate.  Now, vast swathes of the school are disused and, technically, sealed off.  However, bright students can and do find ways to explore the disused sections of the building.

Technically, the school is run by the Triad; three magicians, appointed by Magus Court, who make up the school board.  Practically, the school is administered by the Castellan, who generally has the final say in everything from class timetables to discipline.  Below him, each subject has two to four teachers, who sort out their own pecking order.

Students generally enter Jude’s at twelve, after they pay the admission fees (or win a scholarship).  Upon arrival, they are sorted into single-sex dorms - roughly ten students to a dorm - which will be their home for the next year.  (Jude’s does not admit day pupils.)  The students will be resorted every year, ensuring that each student will know nearly everyone of consequence within his or her year.  Most students will remain friends with their dormmates even after they are separated by the re-sort.

Socially, students are divided into lowerclassmen (12-16) and upperclassmen (17-19).  The upperclassmen are expected to keep an eye on the lowerclassmen, teach them how to be students and maintain discipline, although some upperclassmen take the duties more seriously than others.  Fifth Years are often assigned to supervise First Year dorms, at least for the first five months.  After that, the students are expected to elect their own dorm supervisors (although the elected student can be stripped of position by the staff, if they prove to be a bad choice).  Upperclassmen have authority to order the younger students about (sending them to fetch or carry, for example) or administer punishments - writing lines, detentions, etc - at will, though it must be noted that abuse of this power draws serious consequences.  It’s generally agreed that drawing the attention of the teachers - particularly the Castellan - is a bad idea.

Most social groups congregate around the children of the aristocracy, mimicking the patron-client relationships that shape the city outside the walls.  Aristocratic children often trade help and support to common-born children in exchange for their service, although such patterns don’t always continue once the students have graduated.  It’s rare for a patronage network to include older or younger students, which can be a shock to the leader when he/she graduates and discovers that he/she is back at the bottom (although someone with the right birth is already quite high up the ladder.)

Friendships between the years are rare and friendships between upperclassmen and lowerclassmen are almost unknown.  Even older siblings will generally ignore their younger siblings at school.

The typical weekday starts with breakfast, which is held between 0700 and 0830.  Classes start at 0900, each one normally an hour or two long.  Lowerclassmen take their lunch at 1200; upperclassmen have theirs at 1300.  Classes end for the day at 1630, followed by homework, private study and afterschool detentions.  Students generally take their dinner between 1700 and 1900; Lights Out is at 2100, whereupon all lowerclassmen are expected to be in their dorms.  Sneaking out after Lights Out is an old tradition, but so is unpleasant detentions if caught.

Lowerclassmen generally study a number of subjects, including Charms, Potions, Forging, Protective and Defensive Magic and Ethics of Magic.  Each student is required to show both an understanding of the theory and practical skills before they pass the class.  Assuming they pass their end-of-year exams, they will be allowed to go on to the next level.  Upperclassmen have more focused studies, depending on what they want to do with their lives.  A prospective Potions Master, for example, will limit his studies to useful classes.

Lowerclassmen have relatively little freedom.  They are not allowed to leave the school during term time, save in emergencies.  They do attend dances and suchlike, but such events are designed more to teach the social graces than have fun.  Upperclassmen have considerably more freedom - they can leave the school to attend social events, for example - yet they are almost always chaperoned within the school.  Student romance is not precisely discouraged, but it can be scandalous if it gets out of hand (particularly as very few student romances last once the students graduate).

Students are generally expected to uphold the ethos and traditions of the school at all times.  On an open level, this includes practicing magic and pushing the limits of the possible; on a more covert level, this includes upholding traditions and practices that seem a little odd to the outside eye.  Students are expected to solve problems themselves, instead of tattling to the staff; students push and pull at each other all the time, testing what they can and cannot do (or get allowed to do.)  Some of these traditions are weird, but harmless; students often discover a rival in their dorms they can match themselves against.  Others can be dangerous, if - when - such a relationship gets out of hand.

A student is expected to be honourable and keep his/her word at all times.  There may be no contracts or oaths worked into patronage relationships running through the school, but a reputation for dishonourable behaviour - not repaying favours, for example - can haunt a student long after leaving school.  An upperclassman who makes use of a particular lowerclassman for errands is expected to repay the lowerclassman, perhaps in scholarly assistance or education in the social graces.  Most consequences for exploitive behaviour are unofficial, but non-the-less real.

Despite its location, Jude’s is meant to be politically neutral.  The Great Houses do vie for power over the school, as it gives them the chance to identify promising newcomers and recruit them, yet it is generally agreed that such power will not be exploited too far.  Family feuds do sometimes cast a long shadow over Jude’s, but the Castellan normally keeps them from getting too far out of hand.  Hexing one’s family’s enemies is traditional and allowed, actually trying to kill them is not.

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Against Three Lands: A Tale of the World of a Thousand Isles

-George Phillies

The Domain of Clan MacDonald is surrounded by enemies. Clan Gunn wants its lands.  Mysterious pirates assail its shores.  The Courts of the Imperial Presence and the All-Conquering Generalissimo suspect it of treason. Foreign trade is interrupted by invasions of barbarians--or are they blue-skinned demons?

Angus Valentine Macdonald, seventh child of the One MacDonald, must travel to remote Mercia, where he must defeat the treachery of the Lunarian Empire, the corruption of the Langwadooran invaders, and the rapacious greed of the alien Trell to protect his homeland and win the hand of his lady-love.

Prologue

“Ivor, the sheep are just where we expected.” Ludovic Mungo Gunn shifted slightly in his perch, a flat branch ten feet off the ground. He had a good view down into the valley, but he knew it would take a sharp eye indeed to spot him under his mottled bark-brown cloak.

“And the shepherd?” Ivor Magnus Gunn returned the question.

“Now that’s being the question.” Ludovic wished his line of sight was a bit better. “The two dogs are keeping the sheep from straying too far, so he’s sitting in the shade someplace close.  There go the dogs…I see where his tent is. That big tree in the middle of the field.”

“Very good.  Now we just wait for late twilight.” Ivor turned to the two men behind him. “Lads, another hour and we can start our sneak.  The opium-laced bait does for the two dogs.  The shepherd we tie, not too tight that he can’t get free and go home.  Another shire gets the message that MacDonalds can’t protect your sheep, but we Gunns can.  After all, we’ve had no sheep stolen, our side of the border, right?”

&&&&

Una Ruth poked at the coals in her hearth. It was dark outside, but the stars of the Lobster were drifting toward setting. It was time to stoke the fire and boil water, first for linden tea and then for wheat porridge. The wheat had been soaking since last night, so a boil and simmer until dawn would have it cooked for when her husband was ready to eat.

The surf sounded strange, with a murmur between the crash of the breaking waves. If the waves continued odd, perhaps she would urge her beloved Willie Solomon that this would be a good day to spend fixing his nets, which were getting a bit ragged.  He could wait to take to the water when the Sun was high in the sky.  The grasping selkie-demons of the watery deeps hid from the Goddess’s blinding light. Afternoon was surely the safest time to go fishing.  The catch had been good yesterday; their contribution to Oyster Bay’s lord’s share had been more than ample.

First rice straw and then twigs caught in the ashes.  Reddish sparks turned to the flicker of tiny golden flames. The tricky part of lighting a fire from the last evening’s coals was now past. The fire rose up, finally enough to boil the water.  She set the water pot down low to catch all the fire demons escaping from the burning wood.

Outside, there were peculiar clattering sounds.  Curious, she stuck her head beyond the door curtain. Across the path, her much younger neighbour Annelise Margaret had done the same. To the west and the east, lines of torches were approaching the village.  What was this?

“Honourable husband!” she whispered.  “Get up!”

“What?  Is my tea ready?” Willie Solomon grumbled.  He shrugged off his blanket and sat up. “It’s still dark outside. I should be asleep. What is the matter with you?”

At that moment, the clatter was replaced with screams and shrieks, so loud as to drown out the surf.  Banging of metal on metal, sounds like three dozen blacksmiths all beating their iron, made a rising clangour.

“Out of the way, Una!”  Willie Solomon pushed her to the side and stood in front of his doorway. “What is this nonsense.  You!” He pointed at the men waving torches, shouting:  “You are disturbing our sleep.  The Lord of the Castle has forbidden this.  Be quiet!” The clamour grew louder.

Behind him, someone was ringing the Village Big Gong.  Fire, Flood, War.  Three rings of three was ‘war’; villagers were expected to gather in the town square. Willie Solomon looked across the path, where Annelise Margaret’s husband Brian Tobor had stuck his head out.  “What is all this noise?” Brian Tobor shouted. “Were the young men having a secret drinking party?”

The screaming grew louder. Willie Solomon stepped to the middle of the path.  By order of the Shire Magistrates, village paths were  straight, so you could see all the way across the village without a house blocking the view. Who was out there, he asked himself?  A line of men, some carrying torches, ran toward him.  The strange men were all waving swords.  At each house, two of them ducked through the doorway, while the others ran down the road.

As the strange men closed, Willie Solomon’s anger turned to fear.  The strange men?  Their hair was unnatural, the colour of blood.  Their swords glittered cruelly in the flickering light of their torches.

“Here, here!” Willie Solomon shouted.  “No weapons inside Oyster Bay Village!  It is forbidden!” He pointed vigorously at the men. Then he realized how strange their dress was. They wore trousers with huge wide belts rather than breech-clouts, long-sleeved shirts rather than capes, shining gold neck-chains and ear-rings, and had wrapped their heads in fancy pieces of cloth and not in proper straw hats.  His last words were “Who are you?”  The first pirate to reach him chopped down with an axe, cleaving Willie Solomon’s skull. The next pirate stabbed Brian Tobor’s chest, pulled back, found that his sword was stuck in Brian’s spine, and vigorously kicked Brian Tobor in the stomach.  Tobor, screaming in pain, was knocked backward to the ground.  The pirate stepped on Brian Tobor and heaved upward, yanking the blade from Tobor’s spine.

Una Ruth, seeing what had happened to her husband, leaped forward and dropped on his body.  She was entirely unaware of the axe that descended on the back of her neck.

&&&&

Constantine Joseph MacDonald surveyed the ashes of Oyster Bay.  The air held the stench of night soil, a distant tang of wood smoke, and a richer odor that was alas not cooked…pork.  The village had had a few dozen homes, a shelter for traders, a temple, and a larger house for the Chief Fisherman.  All had been burned to the ground. Someone had thought to dig under each hearthstone, not that the poor fisherman who had lived here were likely to have had more than a few copper pence to their names. His four horsemen were quartering the land out from the village, searching without much hope of finding survivors. Ten conscript infantry, their spears and helmets neatly stacked, were working through the village, finding bodies, and stacking them to one side of the ruins.  Constantine’s clerk Albert Bertram recorded the count of bodies, adding for each the sex and an estimated age.

Seaforthton Interlocutor Thomas Mason and a team of young men doing their Shire service had arrived with a horse cart of heavy rakes and shovels. He had surveyed the scene, announced that the attack seemed to have happened at night, probably closing on dawn as many of the wives but few of the husbands were already dressed, and probably two days ago to judge from the state of the bodies and the burned timbers. Two days after the attack, only a few timbers were smoldering. The young men had started a distance down the beach and were neatly raking the sand, looking for traces of the villains. Constantine Joseph had summoned a priestess to the site. The villagers were dead; they needed to be prayed by the Goddess of Mercy to the next world.

The best that could be done for the bodies, most of whom were people known only to their fellow villagers who were also dead, was to give them a common grave with stones stacked on the sand. Digging the grave into the side of one of the sand dunes would minimize the needed work.

His men had located where the pirates had landed. Deep grooves in the sand, well above the high tide line, showed where boats had been dragged inland. There were vast numbers of footprints, so many that they could not readily be interpreted. A stack of wax drippings suggested where someone had stood with a candle-lantern, to what end was unclear.

“Honorable Captain Constantine Joseph?” The Interlocutor wore the traditional long white cotton shift of his profession. Sandals stuck out from under its bottom. “We are continuing to search, but with this many young men we will likely be done by late this afternoon. So far we have found nothing. To the list of other crimes, we may add desecration of the temple, in that the villains pried off the altar stone and removed the offerings from underneath. Realistically speaking, that was more silver than would be found in the rest of Oyster Bay. I am spending my time supervising the Shire service men, but I must say that they are all diligent and conscientious.”

“It seems to me that this is the fourth time this has happened.” Constantine Joseph waved his arm from left to right, encompassing the ruins of the village. “We have never been lucky enough to find any clues. If this were one of the neighboring domains, exploring how well we are prepared before they attack us, you would think they would do something that would let me arrive on the scene in time to pass steel against steel. Let me guess. Once again, if we look at the bodies being so neatly stacked, we notice that the young women and older girls are all missing. The resident nun or priestess, if there was a resident, has been sacrificed on her own altar.”

“Indeed,” Interlocutor Thomas Mason said, “you are correct in almost every respect. No priestess was resident. There was a priestess visiting from Carolus’s Harbor.  She seems to have vanished. Her disappearance was how we found out about this event. She was expected back at Carolus’s Harbor, did not appear at anything like the expected time, so several people were sent out; they believed that her cart had thrown a wheel. They instead found what is left of Oyster Bay village. I will let you know what I find, if anything.”

The sun had passed well across the sky.  Constantine Joseph sat in conference with Thomas Mason. “So we actually did find something this time,” Thomas Mason announced. He smiled weakly. “We found a place where there seem to have been a struggle, there was even more blood than usual on the ground, and someone had dropped four coins and the sharp end of a knife. On the knife, the haft appears to have broken. I will ask the Seaforthton Smiths if they can identify the work.  The metal looks odd.  The coins, if that’s what they are, don’t resemble anything I’ve ever seen. They do not have holes in their middles the way real coins do. They bear images of faces, people wearing strange hats. They were not released by the Imperial Presence, the Throne of the Stars, or some petty chieftain from the Land of Mountains. I don’t know where they came from. If there is writing on them, which I’m not sure, I can’t read it. I will include the coins with my report to the Council of Elders, and you will get a copy. These crimes are beyond my understanding. They make no sense.”

“Thank you for your assistance.” Constantine Joseph bowed politely from the waist. “Albert Bertram?” Constantine Joseph nodded at his aide and secretary, who lost no time setting out his writing table. “We will be a while until the dead people are all buried, so the time needs to be used well.  I might as well dictate orders:  A message to all cities, towns, and villages of Seaforthton Shire, to be read aloud at the evening bell and posted in accord with law.  (We will need this message block cut and printed.) There has been an outbreak of piracy. Places have been attacked and burned, their inhabitants killed. Therefore, as Great Captain of Seaforth Isle, I order: One. All walled places are to close and bar their gates between twilight and dawn. Two. All conscript infantryman with six months or more of service are to be issued their helmet and their spear, sword, bow, or other military equipment as available. This equipment will be stored in their homes. They shall appear with it in the public square at eventide every day. Anyone not appearing without good reason is guilty of desertion. Any person caught stealing such equipment is to be boiled in oil. Three. The town marshal is to establish a rotation so that the walls and gates are under observation by armed conscript infantrymen at all times, day and night. Four. I call upon all horsemen to prepare their arms for battle and train vigorously. Five. All places without walls, especially those directly on the coast, may be attacked. When weather permits, residents should leave their homes and sleep in inland fields and woods. Six.  Every stranger is to be questioned politely but vigorously as to who they are and why they are here. Seven. Any person possessing coins like those in the drawing below is to be forcibly detained and brought to Seaforthton for questioning. Albert Bertram, think about what I just said.  Tell me what I forgot.”

“We did this during the last Gunn dispute.” Albert Bertram pointed to the east. “I read one of those messages. Perhaps add: ‘Each city, town, and village is to confirm that its signal fire wood is dry and ready to burn, with oil on hand and a torch nearby.’?”

“Yes.  Add that.” Constantine Joseph wondered what else they had both forgotten.

“I will reduce this to block statements,” Albert Bertram said. “There are pirates. Great Captain of Seaforthton orders:  Close gates dawn to dusk….”

Thomas Mason looked over Albert Bertram’s shoulder. “What is that writing?” he asked. “Usually you have such a graceful pen hand. You seem to be taking notes very swiftly with it.”

“Ah,” Albert said, “It is Warren Clan swifthand, for long notes.  At the end, I transcribe twice, once into men’s words of wisdom, and once into women’s syllables of sound.  In many peasant villages, only the syllables will be understood.”

“Thomas Mason, a question just occurred to me.” Constantine Joseph looked skyward. “I failed to think of this sooner. I am the Great Captain of the land forces. No one ever talks about warships. Did anyone see the pirate boat arriving or leaving? Boats are big. It might have been seen from a neighbouring town.”

“I shall inquire.” Thomas Mason made a note on a wax tablet. “You are right. No one seems to have seen the pirates arriving or leaving. Or perhaps they did, and didn’t realize they were pirates.”

Chapter One

MacDonald Castle was filled with the distant sounds of work. Angus Valentine MacDonald stepped on slippered feet to the Lord’s Door of the Small Hall of State. The two spearmen guarding the door came to attention, thumping the padded ends of their spearshafts on strategically placed basalt blocks.  The two archers between the guards and the door began plucking the strings on their bows, the harmonious twangs serving to expel demons of discord from the doorway and the Hall beyond.

Angus entered the Hall. The morning was truly beautiful.  After days of heavy rain, the skies were brilliantly clear.  A soft cool breeze blew off the ocean, passing through opened windows and sliding doors and up into half-opened vents. Between the windows hung bamboo mats painted with the MacDonald sigil, a large red + confined within a white bounding circle.  Angus stepped to the head of the Hall’s polished black granite table. He- bowed politely to the counsellors sitting around it. They were the Barony’s Council of Elders, entitled to his deep respect. The Counsellors all rose and returned his bow, their bows being ever-so-slightly less deep than his.  As fourth son and seventh child, Angus knew that he was hardly likely to inherit. Nor was he a prize in marriage. He was still entitled to the respect due a son in training in the Lord’s absence. The rest of the day would be tedious, but some things had to be endured.

Angus took his seat on the Lesser Chair of State, noting when he did that the Minister of the Purse’s lips still tightened.  Angus’s father, the One MacDonald, had had to intervene to settle that disagreement. Was his seventh child, his person in his absence, the Incarnation of the Baron, entitled to sit in the One Chair, or was Angus simply the MacDonald High Bailiff, required to sit on a simple if padded stool? The disputants carefully did not note that Susan MacDonald, speaker for the Abbeys and Nunneries of the Barony, was well into her ninth decade and over her protests had been given a padded chair including padded arm-rests.

Angus looked around the table.  At his right, the position of honour, was Sandy Brian MacDonald, newly ascended as Minister of Agriculture. Down the table from him were Minister of the Purse Edmund Finlay MacDonald and Minister for Public Works Magnus Taylor MacNeil.  On his left were Minister of Manufactures Torquil Simon MacDonald, Minister of the Sword Arthur Lachlan MacDonald, and Lady High Librarian Margaret Rachel MacRae.   At the foot of the table, in positions of respect but not honour, sat Susan MacDonald and Representative of the Six Free Towns Ian Patrick Gunn. More than one visitor to this hall, Angus recalled, had been astonished that the place of honour was not given to the Minister of the Sword, not to mention that the High Librarian was a woman.  There were reasons that Barony MacDonald prospered, but visitors were oft too opaque to see them.

“Susan,” Angus began, his voice softly breaking the dead silence in the room, “might we please be having a short prayer to bless this meeting?”

“Indeed,” she answered.  Her age did not show in her voice, which was loud and clear.  She raised her hands skyward, her white coat with its black greek-key traceries draping loosely over her tabard.  “Great Goddess of the Sun, may your Golden Sword bless this assembly and grant us wisdom.  May our granaries be overflowing, our crafts treasured by the Hundred Isles, our purses never be lacking, our swords victoriously smiting our every enemy, our people enjoying our Baron’s munificence, our halls beautiful and thoughtful, our holy places honoured and protected, and our Free Towns ever more prosperous.”

“Now, what has gone particularly wrong today, before we consider our usual issues?” Angus asked, his voice considerably firmer that it had been.  Edmund Finlay frowned again.  The One MacDonald always put misfortunes last, but Angus preferred to handle misfortunes, such as they were, while the Council was still fresh. He had little enough independence, Angus thought, and would not be enjoying even that for much longer, so he would enjoy it while he could, even if it was only to set the agenda of his own meetings. Angus looked in turn at each of his ministers.

Sandy Brian shook his head, the gesture shivering his brown house coat, the coat’s plainness relieved by  the golden sheaves of grain embroidered  on each collar tab. “Another lot of sheep stolen in the east, this time near Shieldhill, right on the border with Barony Gunn. The shepherd was tied while he slept, the dogs were drugged, and the sheep disappeared.  There were traces leading across the border, but Gunn’s local shire authorities say nothing was seen, certainly no extra flock of sheep.  They were remarkably fast to be denying everything.”

Torquil Simon mouthed ‘No news.’ His tabard and layered housecoats shaded from innermost, the palest dawn-pink to the outermost, a  deep rose-red, that colour chain ending with the blinding sky-blue of his outermost coat. Across his chest, his outermost coat was embroidered with the traditional symbols for the twelve manufactures, the lumber and cotton and silk that the MacDonald Domain sold to the rest of the Hundred Isles.

“The month’s foreign tariffs are down. Again.”  Edmund Finlay frowned more deeply. He did not quite slap the table, but his right hand pressed firmly on the papers in front of him. The other men and women had worn their meeting-day best.  He wore the classic grey coat of a Minister of the Purse, its sleeves embroidered with the abacus and scales that signified his post.

“Once again, pirates struck a small village – really a dozen huts – on Seaforth Island.”  Arthur Lachlan glowered at the Council. His silver hair and neatly trimmed moustache stood brilliantly against the blood-red of his padded tabard.  “Men and children were killed. Women and girls disappeared. Homes, boats, and the temple were burned.” Susan MacDonald stiffened.  Counsellors straightened on their stools.  Temple burning was a vile act, not something expected from young men disputing a  border . “I am failing at my responsibilities, and see not what to do. If pirates died, they took their dead with them.”

“The Bervie Avon is again in flood,” Magnus Taylor announced. His family name let him wear a half-dozen layers of silk robes, their colours spanning the rainbow.  “Hardly surprising, given the rain, but now Strathmoor Bridge is completely overtopped and perhaps the High Road is washed out.”

“Our Library has no bad news,” Margaret Rachel announced. Her robes were a solid ink-black.

Susan MacDonald shook her head.

“No bad news,” Ian Gunn said quietly.

“How charming,” Angus said.  Some meetings had only good news.  This one had much more than its share of bad.  “Has our Shieldhill Administrator done anything about the sheep?”

“He wrote a report,” Sandy said, “demonstrating that he can do nothing. He says there is dissension among the shepherds and peasants.  They wonder why they are not protected. He asks for instructions.”

“Each lost sheep costs the Treasury money,” Edmund Finlay complained. “There is a tax, so much per head of sheep, but only on sheep presented at a market for shearing or slaughter. Now these sheep are gone, and their tariffs with them.”

“Can we send soldiers to protect Shire Shieldhill? Aren’t there Shire Bailiffs?” Angus leaned back in his seat.  Father’s instructions were lamentably clear.  The One MacDonald had ordered that Angus’s Council of Elders had to propose the solutions, which he could only choose between, at least until a war broke out.

“The Barony Authorities could be ordered to send out bailiffs to protect the flocks in their hills,” Arthur Lachlan remarked. “It is unlikely that they have enough bailiffs.  And if you give each shepherd one bailiff, well, the poachers have numbers on their side and will kill the bailiff. Shire soldiers are there to keep the One Gunn from occupying our towns.”

“MacDonald Castle has a large garrison. Couldn’t we send some of it to Shieldhill?” Angus asked. “Set it to ambush the poachers?  Send enough men to each of some of the flocks, so if sometimes the poachers met no resistance, sometimes they would be outnumbered and captured? Of course, I am only asking questions to understand your possible solutions between which I must choose.”  The Council nodded in amused agreement.  They all knew that Angus often did exactly as his father had ordered, making choices.  Sometimes he asked questions, questions that might as well have been orders, but questions were of course not orders.  If his questions had been stupid, they would have been treated as questions. During the short period when Number Three Son had sat on the One Chair, the questions had been treated as being barely worthy of notice.

“There are only so many horsemen in the garrison. Most are needed to defend Castle MacDonald, should it be attacked.” Arthur Lachlan shrugged. He affected not to notice the alarmed look on Edmund Finlay’s face.  “We could safely send, say, fifty.”

“We could also send none and accept the losses,” Edmund Finlay said.

“I see I am now given a choice.” Angus sat straighter in his chair.  Edmund had put both feet in his mouth, because now all would have to agree that Angus had two choices. “Send the fifty. Ten groups of five with ten flocks? That’s not every flock, but with luck the bandits strike a defended flock. Take prisoners.  Question them rigorously. That was what you said, wasn’t it, Arthur?”

“Precisely,” Arthur said. “Though groups of three should be more than enough.”

“Surely you are the Minister of the Sword, and can set these details without us all telling you your business for you?  Next topic.  Can we say more of the tariff issue?” Angus pointed at Edmund Finlay.

“We continue to receive ships from Seria,” Edmund Finlay muttered. “There are far fewer ships that there were last year from Mercia. They bear confused reports of civil war, or foreign invasion, or, Goddess preserve us, an infestation of demons. I now speak to each visiting merchant.  Shipmaster Parlegrecco – he is always the best informed -- tells me that junks that sail the southern route sometimes disappear, more than weather can explain.  Mercian traders now avoid the Mercian sea, preferring to send their ships north along the coast of the Lunarian Empire toward the Lands of the Khan and the Mountain Kingdoms.  His fellows mostly then take the northern route, which leads them to land in Barony Kinkade and not here.  He also reports that trade with Spiceland and the Flower Archipelago has long been greatly disrupted by wars and invasions…he is imprecise as to who is invading. The Teak Isles are similarly disturbed, from what he terms One-Godder invaders and sailors of the accursed Pyramid People, leading to shortages of fine hardwoods. In accord with Himself’s instructions, I have memorialized the One MacDonald Himself about this.”

“If tariffs fall, our remittances to the Emperor and the Generalissimo will decline,” Angus observed. This was actually a serious problem, and not one that was necessarily easy to solve. “There will be repercussions.  My father’s quest to be elevated to the Council of the Sun might be hindered. My sisters might marry less well. My brothers might be rejected by potential brides-to-be. We here would be blamed.” Angus bit his tongue, not remarking out loud that if his father’s quest were shelved, and his lavish establishment in the Imperial Capital very considerably reduced to something more reasonable for what was, after all, a modest domain of the outermost South, revenues would be better than satisfactory. For several centuries, Clan MacDonald had been viewed as dubiously loyal to the All-Conquering Generalissimo, so father’s quest seemed unlikely to succeed. Also, if Father did less to flaunt the minor detail that MacDonald Domain was in fact quite wealthy, much more wealthy than other domains its size,  the tax collectors of the Generalissimo and the Emperor might be less vigorous in their searches.  However, Angus was the fourth son, and would never be placed to act on the difficulty.

“It is our good fortune,” Edmund Finlay answered, “that our major ports all appear to have an Imperial Secret Police Inspector observing the comings and goings of ships. As a result, the Imperial Courts know that our count of ships is accurate. More important, most of our tariffs are from shipping rice, wheat, and millet north towards the Imperial Capitals. Thanks to Sandy Brian and our farmers, those shipments continue to improve.” Sandy smiled. Angus nodded politely, knowing full well that Sandy was Edmund’s protégé, not to mention that Sandy had hardly been in office long enough to have affected agriculture.

“Angus,” Margaret Rachel said quietly, “I have also been speaking with many of these foreign merchants. After all, they are a fine source of books from the Lunar Empire, not to mention they have much to tell about foreign lands. They describe events in southern Mercia. There are pirate attacks. Strange foreigners and strange ships. Foreigners capturing Lunar cities. Foreign products.” She wrinkled her nose. “Foreign religions.” Susan MacDonald ground her teeth. “But there is a historical precedent for this. Decades ago, many of the Flower Islands were invaded and conquered by foreigners. Seemingly, the same foreigners. There is a book on this, from Baron Nihilo — he’s a Baron of the Pen in the Generalissimo’s court — with details. Most readers think his account is a fantasy. However what he describes matches well reports from southern Mercia. Also he mentions pirate attacks like those Arthur Lachlan laments. Those happened very early on in the Flower Islands.”

“I am always amazed,” Arthur Lachlan said, “that you can immediately call from memory these historical precedents that I’ve never heard of. Margaret Rachel, can you again find that book for us?”

“I spent a week,” Margaret said, “looking for that book. The relevant scrolls are on the rack,” she gestured to her left, “by my writing table in the library, waiting for anyone interested.”

“I believe we will all want to read that. Soon.” Angus rapped his knuckles on the table. “If these attacks are an omen of a future invasion, we need to know how to respond. It would be good to garrison all of our fishing villages so that the pirates may soon be presented their heads. After they have been suitably tortured. Also, we should like to learn from whence they come.  The Seaforthton Interlocutor and Captain together sent us a strange knife and some coins.  Smiths say that the steel is inferior. No one has ever seen such a coin.”

“I have only so many horsemen.” Arthur spread his arms in resignation. “We have no idea how many pirates there are in an attack. They get to choose where they land, and attack without warning. To garrison every village I would need an impossible number of horsemen. The problem appears to be insoluble, at least one of my feeble wits.” Counsellors looked at each other. Angus considered that Arthur was quite old, so that robes contrasted brilliantly with his silver hair, and that he had earned his title through skill with the sword, not from any knowledge of military methods.

“We have a truly large number of horsemen,” Edmund Finlay said, “as I should know because I must find money to pay all of them. How many horsemen can we conceivably need to protect those villages?”

“Most of those are the hereditary horsemen.” Arthur stared up at the ceiling. “The One MacDonald rusticated many of them, because the Generalissimo hinted that Barony MacDonald seem to have an excessive number of warriors. They are all supposed to have arms and armour. Assuredly, they all have dress robes and the two swords of their rank.”

“However,” Minister of Works Magnus Taylor remarked, “they also mostly have two eyes. They owe us service, so many lunar cycles in a three-year.  Send two or three of them to each fishing village. During the day, they may wander the beaches or play stones or chess, and at night they hide in the dunes or woods or whatever and watch the village until the pirates attack. Fortunately, most of them will never see anything. The ones who do will tell us who the pirates are, how many of them are in an attack, and whose sigil they are wearing. Once they take a prisoner, we will know with whom we are entitled to go to war. After we build adequate fortresses to protect our borders.” Magnus’s colleagues nodded in agreement until he reached his final sentence. He had just proposed that his Ministry needed a vast increase in its budget.

“Perhaps we should endure and do nothing, rather than acting.” Finlay shifted on his stool.  “The cost of sending out all these soldiers surely exceeds the loss in taxes from a few destitute fishermen.”

“Doing nothing is an action,” Angus said. “My father said this, so it must be true. I again have a choice.  Doing nothing is less sound as an action than what Magnus has proposed to us. I choose Magnus’s action.  I humbly request that my Minister of the Sword draw up a detailed plan for this and present to me. Tomorrow morning at second breakfast.” When Angus said ’tomorrow’, there was a tone of steel in his voice. Counsellors looked up in surprise. Angus had always been affable if quick-witted and thoughtful in his decisions. After a few moments, most of them smiled in approval. “Also, while my father’s horsemen, and if I recall correctly a good number of horsewomen, have been rusticated, that does not excuse them from being skilled in arms, as my father doubtless said on this topic. Perhaps more training is needed. I will memorialize the One MacDonald on this question.”

“That will cost a lot of money. It will take much work. Surely we can trust our horsemen to see for themselves that they are properly trained,” Arthur Lachlan grumbled. When Arthur complained about spending money, Edmund Finlay nodded in vigorous agreement. Angus was sure that ‘work’ meant ‘work for me’.

“The steel of the sword is the backbone of the Empire,” Angus said. “My father said that, too. I have heard rumours that many young horsemen are unhappy with their lack of duties and their lack of preparation for a glorious war in which they may die heroically for the Domain or better yet the Imperial Presence and the Generalissimo. Let us find the most vociferous of these and invite them to volunteer to protect our villages. Remind them that they may have a chance to die in battle.  Also, have a bailiff take the coins and visit all of our merchant houses.  Perhaps one of them can tell us where the coins came from.”

Today was as close, Angus considered, as he was ever going to reach to being Baron. He was the unlucky seventh and last child, so his three brothers and then perhaps his three sisters would all inherit the Barony before he could. Some of his sisters might marry upward, and choose to abdicate, but there was hardly any likelihood that he would be the heir. Soon enough, his brothers, who were all at the Imperial Capital being presented to society, looking for wives, and of course serving as hostages to his father’s good behaviour, would have children of their own, children who might be entitled to inherit before he would. He would be left here. Indeed, when last he had visited his parents, they suggested that he might consider finding and marrying the pretty daughter of a wealthy merchant household. Merchants, they had agreed, were of course the lowest social class, but if you could not marry well marrying into money would leave you with a comfortable estate for the rest of your life. The Merchant House knew they now had a direct tie to the Baronial family. Angus had actually made considerable progress toward carrying out his parents’ suggestion.  For today, though, he was actually the Grand Marshal of the MacDonalds, sending his troops toward battle.

“Finally, the Great Captain of Seaforth Isle issued, on his own responsibility, military orders.  That is an acceptable emergency action. A copy of his rescript was sent to us.  Do we have any issues with it?” Angus looked around the room.

“There are expenses,” Edmund Finlay said.  “Arms and armour might be lost. Commerce will be interrupted. Conscript soldiers standing watch must be paid their wage for being on duty.”

“That wage is small,” Arthur Lachlan said.  “It is properly paid by each town out of the town treasury, hence, not our problem.” Edmund Finlay smiled at that observation. “The loss associated with having a town burned to the ground, its inhabitants being killed or disappearing, is very large. I endorse this as a military decision. There is even a fair chance that it saves us money.”

“How can I differ with a colleague preaching thrift that works?” Edmund Finlay said.

“The choice is whether or not to send Captain Constantine Joseph a missive saying we endorse his decision.  Shall I send one, or not? Send?”  The councillors nodded supportively. “There was also a problem with the bridge,” Angus said. “Is there a solution?”

“Add more spans.” Magnus spread his arms expansively. “It’s just a matter of money. If we do it right, we never have to do it again, so in the long run we even save money. I will propose an estimate as soon as we find out what the actual damage is.” Edmund Finlay gnashed his teeth when he heard ‘just a matter of money’.

“Is there good news?” Angus looked hopefully at his counsellors.

Ian Gunn smiled. He looked Angus in the eye until Angus nodded. “The Free Port of Saint Morag, noting its crowding and the increase in its transhipment business, intends to exercise its rights over Shire Morag to expand its city walls and build additional docks and warehouses. Of course, this cost will be entirely borne by the Free Port and its Commission of Merchants and Factors, but in accord with its charter the resulting tariffs and taxes will be shared with the Barony, the Emperor, and the Generalissimo. The Nunnery of Saint Brenda, which is included within the proposed expansion, has agreed to be presented with a new and considerably more capacious set of buildings that are more pleasantly located. That construction will necessarily advance first.”

“The search for paper continues.” Torquil Simon straightened his shoulders. He was a small man with shifty gaze, always suspected by his colleagues of some misdeed that could never be identified.  “I can readily find fields of papyrus and bamboo, peasants who lawfully collect from those fields for improving their homes, but never do I find a peasant who will admit even to knowing how to make paper, let alone admit to making any. I have the distinct impression that with respect to papermaking there is some jest between the peasants that they are unwilling to tell me. If you prefer, they all know for a fact that I know the joke and therefore are embarrassed to repeat it. Nonetheless, in your grandfather’s day, Angus, the Barony had a substantial income from the making and sale of good paper, but that income has mysteriously dried up. Assuredly, since Saint Morag has several printers, all of whom complain mightily and truly about the high cost of paper, there would be a market for paper if it were made, but it is not being made. I cannot explain this. The remaining manufactures, and the minor manufactures not numbered among the Twelve, are in fact all being made within the Barony, though in some cases on a very limited scale.”

“Let us then advance to regular order and your weekly observations on our state of affairs.” Angus leaned back in his chair. This would indeed be the dull part of the meeting, so he gestured to an attendant to bring the pots of strong tea and the assorted pickles that would fortify the Council and keep it well awake for the rest of the morning.

PURCHASE THE NOVEL FROM AMAZON NOW

Table of Contents

- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Chapter Thirty-Eight
- Chapter Thirty-Nine
- Chapter Forty
- Chapter One