The Zero Blessing

(The Zero Enigma I)

Christopher G. Nuttall

http://www.chrishanger.net
http://chrishanger.wordpress.com/
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Cover by Brad Fraunfelter

www.BFillustration.com

All Comments and Reviews Welcome!

Cover Blurb

Caitlyn Aguirre should have been a magician.  Her family certainly expected her to be a magician.  But by the time she reached her twelfth birthday, Caitlyn hadn't even managed to cast a single spell!  In desperation, her parents send her - and her magical sisters - to Jude’s Sorcerous Academy, her last best chance to discover her powers.

But as she struggles to survive her classes without a single spell to her name, Caitlyn starts to uncover an ancient mystery that may prove the key to her true powers ...

... If she lives long enough to find it.

Dedication

To the memory of Enid Blyton, who introduced me to boarding school stories, and to Thomas Hughes, who was truly - dismally - accurate about boarding schools.

Prologue

I suppose I should start at the beginning.  It is, after all, a very good place to start.

My sisters and I are triplets, fraternal triplets.  We don’t really look that much alike, although we all have dad’s black skin and dark eyes, as well as our mum’s silky smooth hair.  Alana is so pretty you’d think she’d been glamoured; Belladonna would be pretty if she took more exercise and bothered to put some work into her appearance; I, always in the middle, look more like a tomboy than anything else.  You probably wouldn't think we were related if you passed us on the street, let alone that we were born on the same day.  But we were.

Our parents - Joaquin and Sofia Aguirre - are two of the most powerful magicians in Shallot City, if not the kingdom.  Dad’s a skilled enchanter with a whole string of apprentices working under him; mum’s the best potions' brewer in the world.  Having three children - and triplets, too - is a big thing for them.  The magic grows stronger, we are told, when children are born and raised together.  My sisters and I should have safeguarded the family’s inheritance for the next generation.  Instead ...

We were seven years old when it happened.

We’d had a birthday party, of course.  Lots of presents, lots of sweet foods and a big cake dedicated to the three of us.  Our friends came round and we had a great time, but our excitement was dulled by the knowledge of what would come afterwards.  Dad had been talking about teaching us magic for some time - we’d already learnt some of the background knowledge taught to every magical child in the kingdom - and today we were going to start.  I was excited.  We all were.  We’d seen Dad work wonders, ever since we were old enough to understand.  We couldn't wait to work wonders ourselves.

And so, when the party was over and the guests had gone, we walked into Dad’s study and sat down at the table.  The tools were already waiting for us.

Anyone can do magic.  It’s a rare person indeed who cannot master a basic firestarter, a water-cleaner or the other housekeeping spells listed in 1001 Spells for Practical Work.  Fishwives use them to clean the air; broadsheet writers use them to send messages right across the kingdom.  But magic, like music, requires talent.  Anyone can learn to tap out a tune on the piano, but playing properly is hard.  So it is with magic.  The sooner you start learning, the better you’ll be.

I was so excited that I could barely contain myself as I picked up the tool.  It didn't look like very much - it was really nothing more than a silver pen - but it was the key to a whole new world.  If I could learn how to use it, I could cast spells.  And then I could use magic.  Our parents had forbidden us from using magic in the past, when we were too young to know the dangers, but they would have to change their minds once we actually had some proper training and knew what we were doing.  I couldn't wait.

Alana went first, as always.  She waved the tool in the air, as Dad ordered, and produced a stream of silver light.  She giggled, then twisted the tool, changing the colour from silver to red and then gold.  Her dark face crinkled into a genuine smile.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so utterly delighted than the moment she used magic for the first time.  And I couldn't wait to try it myself.

“It tickles,” Alana said.

“That’s your gift responding to the magic in the tool,” Dad said.

Belladonna went next, waving the tool casually in the air.  Her eyes crinkled as nothing happened, just for a moment.  Dad spoke to her gently, then told her to try again.  This time, the light appeared, flickering in and out of existence as the magic weakened.  Bella grimaced, then waved the tool a third time.  The light grew stronger, floating in the air.  Alana picked up her tool and wrote a word in the air, giggling.  Dad shot her a quelling look before she could write something that would upset our mother.  

“Your turn, Caitlyn,” Dad said.

I picked up the tool, feeling nothing but cool metal.  A cold shiver ran down my spine.  Alana had said the tool tickled, hadn't she?  Maybe she’d meant after she cast the spell.  I held the tool in the air, silently promising myself that I was going to devote the rest of my life to magic studies, then waved it around.  

Nothing happened.

Dad’s eyes narrowed.  “Let the magic flow,” he ordered.  In hindsight, it was clear that he’d realised that something was wrong.  “Your instincts should guide you.”

“It’s easy,” Alana put in.  “You can feel the magic.”

I couldn’t.  I couldn't feel anything.  The tool still felt cold.

I took a deep breath, then tried again.  Perhaps I'd been too excited to work the spell.  We’d been taught basic breathing exercises, so I ran through them before lifting the tool and waving it in the air again.  There should have been a line of light, hanging in the air.  But there was nothing.  I couldn’t even feel the magic.

“Hah,” Alana said.  “She can't do it.”

“Be silent,” Dad said.

Alana’s mouth closed with a snap.  Our father is very even-tempered, most of the time, but when he gets mad ... watch out.  Normally, I would have enjoyed Alana’s discomfort; now, panic was bubbling at the back of my mind.  What if I couldn't work magic?  Bella – lazy, pudgy Bella - was drawing line after line in the air, giggling to herself as she sketched out faces.  She couldn't be doing better than me ...

But she was.

I tried, again and again.  Dad talked me through it, bit by bit.  He even held my hand as I waved the tool, despite the risk of using his magic to power the spell.  Mum came in and marched my sisters off, leaving us alone ... nothing worked.  I just couldn't cast even a basic spell.  

“I don’t know,” Dad said, finally.  I could hear the disappointment in his voice, clawing at my heart.  I loved my father and I had failed him.  “We’ll keep trying ...”

We did.  We tried every day for a year, then once every week ... nothing happened.  I had no sensitivity to magic at all.  My sisters learned to cast hundreds of spells; I sat in the back, reading books and trying to figure out what had gone wrong.  Why was I different?

But I never found an answer until it was almost too late.

Chapter One

When our father wishes to punish us, he sends us to school.

Or so my sisters say, after spending four years of their lives in the classroom.  They complain all the time, whining and moaning about having to walk to the school and learn about everything but magic.  Most magical children are homeschooled, but we had to go to school and learn.  Alana hates it because she’s not learning about magic; Bella hates it because she’s not allowed to get away with not doing her work.

And me?  I rather like it.

Not that I would have admitted it to them, of course.  Alana blames me for us having to go, even though Dad was the one who sent us there.  She thinks that my lack of magic is why we go to mundane school.  Dad can’t teach us everything, can he?  Mum taught us how to read and write, but they don’t have the time to teach us maths, history and all the other things normal children learn as they grow up.  And while I could never work a single spell, I enjoyed studying magic and magical history.  I wanted to be a historian before I grew up.

The school itself was a relatively small building, playing host to the children rich enough to afford an education, but lacking the magic or family connections they need to get an apprenticeship with a magician.  Half of our classmates would leave at the end of the year, instead of going on to the upper school.  My sisters would leave too, now we’d celebrated our twelfth birthday.  This was their last day.  They would be going to Jude’s Sorcerous Academy, where they’d learn how to turn their already-impressive magic into real sorcery.  Dad had already booked their places.  I envied them, even as I looked forward to being without them.  Having two powerful sisters is a nightmare when you can't even sense magic.  I kept blundering into traps because I couldn't see them.

The teacher, Madam Rosebud, was a middle-aged woman who eyed my sisters and me with dire suspicion, mingled with envy.  I think she probably wanted to be a sorceress in her youth, but she lacked the talent to get some real education.  She envied us for our easy magic - I don’t think she realised I didn't have magic - and didn't hesitate to point out our failings in front of the class.  Dad had told us, in no uncertain terms, that we weren't to use magic at school, but my sisters were good at intimidating their classmates.  Hardly anyone dared laugh.  

“The difference between an Object of Power and a Device of Power is that Objects of Power last forever,” Oz droned on.  He was thirteen years old, kept back a year for failing the last set of exams.  He was handsome enough, I suppose, but his voice was so boring that it put the class to yawning.  “They simply do not fail.”

I resisted the temptation to roll my eyes as Madam Rosebud’s baleful eyes moved from face to face.  Oz was right, but really ... I’d learnt about Objects of Power from Dad, and Dad’s lessons were far more interesting.  Dad’s apprentices are very skilled at making Devices of Power.  And yet, nothing they make lasts longer than a year.  I’d heard of swords, charmed to cut through anything in their path, that needed to be charmed again within months.  Dad’s clients found it a constant frustration.  Some of them even think Dad does it deliberately, even though everyone else has the same problem.

My sisters snorted rudely as Oz took a bow and returned to his seat.  He flushed angrily, but he didn’t say anything.  Strong as he was - he was the biggest boy in class - he was still helpless against magic.  My sisters could have hexed him before he could even take a step towards them, if they wanted.  There were some desultory claps from the front row - the sneaks and swots who were working desperately for a scholarship - but nothing else.  Half the class was trying hard not to fall asleep.

“Caitlyn,” Madam Rosebud said.  “If you will come to the front, please?”

I picked up my essay and headed to the front row, ignoring the quiet snickering from behind me.  For once, I was actually looking forward to reading my work to the rest of the class.  I’d been told to write about the history of the Thousand-Year Empire and the Sorcerous Wars, a subject I found fascinating.  Hundreds of secrets were lost in the wars, including the technique used to make Objects of Power.  My father had so many books on the period, including some that couldn't be found anywhere else, that I’d been spoilt for choice.  Boiling it down to a couple of pages had been a headache.

My sisters were smiling as I turned to face the class.  In hindsight, that should have been a warning.  My sisters spent as little time with me as they could.  I rustled the paper for attention, then opened my mouth.  Words came tumbling out ...

They weren't the right words.  “Madam Rosebud is fat, fat, fat,” I said.  My hands, moving against my will, started to clap.  “Madam Rosebud is fat ...”

The class stared at me in stark disbelief, their faces torn between an insane urge to giggle and an overpowering urge to flee.  No one, absolutely no one, mocked Madam Rosebud.  Fat she might be, ugly and smelly she might be, but no one dared mock her.  I tried to clamp my lips shut as word after word spewed forth ... the spell collapsed, far too late.  Alana was covering her mouth to keep from laughing out loud, her eyes sparkling with malice.  She must have hexed me on the way up, I realised ...

A hand caught my arm and swung me around.  “I have never experienced such disrespect,” Madam Rosebud thundered.  Her face was so close to mine that I could smell the onions she’d had for lunch.  I cowered back, despite myself.  “You ...”

She marched me into the naughty corner, muttered a cantrip and then left me there, staring at the wall.  My feet were firmly fixed to the ground, held in place by magic.  I struggled, but I couldn't lift my shoe.  Madam Rosebud’s voice boomed in my ear as she silenced the class, ordering my sisters to take a note to my father.  I hated Alana in that moment, Alana and Bella too.  Not content with going to Jude’s, not content with being able to escape their hated zero of a sister, they’d ruined my prospects of entering the upper school.  Madam Rosebud wouldn't let me stay in her class, not after everything I’d called her.  

And dad wouldn't let me tell her the truth, I thought, numbly.

I’d never been able to cast a single spell, not one.  Even the basic cantrips are beyond me.  It isn't uncommon for children to be unable to cast spells until they reach a certain age, but most authorities agree that magical talent shows itself by eleven.  If it doesn't show itself by then, it isn't there.  And I was twelve ... a zero.  No magic, no sensitivity to magic ...my father had forbidden me to tell anyone, but rumours were already getting out.  Alana and Bella, showing off their spells whenever they wanted, didn't help.  People were asking why I wasn't such a show-off.

I stood there, helplessly, as the class filed out for the day.  Madam Rosebud was making me wait, then.  I crossed my arms and waited, hoping that Dad would be in a good mood.  But I knew he was probably going to be unhappy.  Sir Griffons was visiting, and that always annoyed my father.  I don’t know why he didn’t simply tell the knight to go to another enchanter.  It wasn't as if Sir Griffons was more important than my father.  Knight or not, he was no sorcerer.

It felt like hours before the door opened and I heard my father’s measured tread crossing the room.  I could feel his gaze on my back as he spoke briefly to Madam Rosebud, cutting off a bleat from the harpy before she could work herself into a frenzy.  I tensed, despite myself.  I was going to pay for that, next term.  Very few people would pick a fight with my father - and no one would do it twice - but Madam Rosebud could mark me down for anything ...

“Caitlyn,” Dad said.  He heard him walking up behind me.  “Free yourself.  We have to go.”

I twisted my head to scowl at him.  The cantrip was simple.  My sisters wouldn’t have had any trouble escaping when Madam Rosebud’s back was turned.  But for me ... it was utterly unbreakable.  My feet were firmly fixed to the ground.  No power at my disposal could budge them.

My father scowled back at me.  “Now.”

He was a tall dark man, dressed in black and gold robes that denoted his status as the High Magus of Magus Court.  His dark eyes normally sparkled with light, particularly when his daughters were around, but now they were grim.  I knew I was in trouble, even though it was Alana’s fault.  Dad ... had told her off, more than once, for casting spells on me, but he also expected me to learn to counter the spells.  And yet, without magic, it was pointless.  I could say the words and make the gestures, yet I always ended up looking stupid.  Sure, I know the words to turn you into a frog, but without magic the spell is useless.  

I knelt down and undid my shoes, then stepped out of them.  The shoes themselves remained firmly stuck to the floor.  Dad eyed me for a long moment before sighing and cancelling the cantrip.  I picked up my shoes, pulled them back on and followed him towards the door, not daring to look at Madam Rosebud.  My sisters wouldn't be back, next term, but they’d ruined my life anyway.  Any hopes I might have had of a life without them were gone.

“You have to work harder,” Dad said, as soon as we were outside.  The summer air was warm, but I felt cold.  “Your magic needs to be developed.”

I didn't look at him.  “Dad ... I don’t have magic,” I said.  “I’m a zero.”

“No daughter of mine is a zero,” Dad said, sternly.  “You have magic.  You just have to learn how to access it.”

I felt a wave of despair, mingled with bitter guilt.  My father had expended more money than I cared to think about, just trying to undo the lock on my magic.  I’d used tools designed to bring out even a tiny spark of magic, brewed endless potions in the hopes of instinctively using magic to trigger them, undergone rituals designed to put me in touch with my magic ... the only thing we hadn't tried was left-hand magic.  Dad had been so furious, the moment it had been suggested by one of his relatives, that no one had dared mention it again.  And nothing had worked.  I was as powerless now as I’d been on the day I first picked up a focusing tool and tried to use it.

“I can't,” I moaned.  If I hadn't found magic by now, I didn’t have it.  “I don’t have any power.”

Dad gave me a sardonic look.  “And what about Great Aunt Stregheria?  You broke her spell.”

I shuddered.  Great Aunt Stregheria was a witch with a capital B, an ugly old crone somehow related to my father.  She dressed like an evil witch from a fairy tale and talked like everyone else, including my parents, existed to do her bidding.  And she hated kids.  My sisters and I had done something to offend her - I forget what, now - and she turned all three of us into frogs.  We’d been ten at the time.  It was the first time any of us had been transfigured against our wills.

Dad was utterly furious.  He literally picked Great Aunt Stregheria up and threw her out of the grounds, then reset the wards to deny her admittance ever again.  But, for all of his power, he couldn't unravel the spell she’d placed on us.  Neither he nor mum could undo it.  We’d feared - even Alana, who’d got on best with the witch - that we would be stuck as frogs until the end of time, or at least until my father swallowed his pride and asked her to remove the spell.  

But the spell on me had worn off in an hour, leaving me human again.  My sisters had been stuck that way for a week when they returned to normal.

My father said, afterwards, that I must have used magic instinctively.   He insisted that I had somehow broken her spell and freed myself.  He even cast spells on me himself to encourage me to develop my talent.  None of his spells lasted as long as he had intended either.  But it was never something I could do consciously.  If I had a talent - and he seemed to think I had something - it wasn't one I could develop.  My sisters sneered that magic was allergic to me.

“Dad, I don’t have magic,” I said, finally.  It had taken me long enough to come to terms with it.  “I’m just a zero.”

Dad sighed as he walked on.  I trotted beside him, looking around.  Normally, I would have enjoyed the chance to spend some time alone with him, but now ... now I just felt tired and bitter.  I’d never backed down in front of my sisters, I’d worked hard to find ways to extract revenge for their humiliations, yet there were limits.  They would get better and better at magic, while I ... the best I could hope for, I suspected, was theoretical magician.  And even they tended to have magic.  They needed it to prove their theories.  

There were other options.  I wasn't a bad forger, even though I lacked magic; I was smart, capable ... I could have found work easily, if I hadn't been born to House Aguirre.  The family name is a blessing, but it is also a curse.  I was expected to be a powerful magician and I couldn't even light a spark!  There was no way I could work for anyone without magic, even the king.  They’d all expect great things from me.

I sighed as we walked down the street, other pedestrians giving us plenty of room.  It was just growing busy as more and more people finished their work and came out onto the streets to shop or merely to chat with their friends.  A shopgirl was using magic to sweep dust out onto the streets, a blacksmith was chanting spells as he hammered metal into its shape ... a street magician was showing off, but hardly anyone was paying attention.  Shallot has a larger population of magicians than anywhere else in Tintagel, as well as Jude’s and a couple of magical universities.  You had to do more than swallow fire and breathe water to impress this city.

But that clown has more magic than I do, I thought, feeling another flicker of bitter resentment.  Illusionist or not, he was still a magician.  And he can do something else with his life.

We crossed the bridge from Water Shallot to North Shallot, the guards on the gates saluting my father as we walked past.  North Shallot is the richest part of the city, home to merchants and traders as well as sorcerers, alchemists and enchanters.  I’d often wondered why Madam Rosebud and her superiors hadn't opened their school in North Shallot, although the costs of buying land in the north are much higher.  No doubt someone in Magus Court had objected, loudly.  Magicians rule North Shallot.  Everyone else lives on their sufferance.

“Things are changing, Cat,” my father said.  I shivered.  He only called me Cat when he was worried.  “House Rubén has been making advances in Magus Court.  My position may be under threat.”

I looked up at his dark face.  He was worried.  House Rubén was our family’s great rival, our only real equal in Shallot.  I’d grown up listening to horror stories about how they treated their friends and so-called allies.  It would be hard for them to unseat my father, I thought, but they could undermine him.  Stepping down from his post was one thing; being unseated was quite another.  The other Houses would back away from us.

“He can't do that,” I said.  “Surely ...”

“He’s trying,” Dad told me.  “House Rubén has wanted to win power for generations.  Now ... they might have a chance.”

“Because of me,” I said.  “Because I don’t have any powers.”

Magic is stronger, I have been told time and time again, if children are twins or triplets ... there’s even a legend of a witch who gave birth to five magical children.  My parents, with three daughters, should have been powerful indeed, their bloodline secure for generations to come.  But I had no powers ...

... And the trinity my sisters and I should have formed had never come into existence.

House Rubén had only two children, as far as I knew.  Twins, rather than triplets.  But both of them were powerful.  There was no weak link.

“You have power,” my father said, sharply.  He sounded as though he was trying to convince himself.  “The spells I have cast on you ... they should have stayed in place until I took them off.  But you broke them.”

I looked down at the pavestones.  “But I don't know how!”

“Figure it out,” my father said, sternly.  He squeezed my shoulder, gently.  “Time is not on our side.”

I shook my head, helplessly.  Maybe I did have a gift.  But it was more likely that I was just a freak, a child born without any magic at all.  

A zero.

Chapter Two

Aguirre Hall is more than just my family’s residence.  It’s the centre of our power.  

I followed my father through the gates - warded extensively to keep out hawkers, traders and pedestrians, even though I couldn't sense the spells - and up towards the hall.  It is an immense building, a mansion composed of stone and practically coated in protective enchantments and spells.  The magical community is fond of testing our protections from time to time, sending probes over the walls and into our wards.  So far, none of them have actually managed to break through the defences. 

Travis, the butler, opened the door as we approached.  He’s lesser family - he has a blood tie to us - and it gives him an ability to sense the more senior members as they walk into the mansion.  I rather liked him, despite a snooty attitude that grated on my nerves from time to time.  My sisters joked he had his nose so high in the air that he kept walking into walls, but I didn't think so.  Besides, he had always been kind to me.

“Sir,” he said, addressing my father.  “Your family is gathered in the lower dining room.”

“Very good,” Dad said.  “We shall attend on them at once.”

I sighed - I’d hoped for a chance to sit down and plot revenge - but Dad clearly had other ideas.  It was too much to hope that he would punish Alana, of course.  He wanted me to develop my powers ... and if that meant allowing my sister to jinx and hex me whenever my back was turned, he’d allow it as long as she didn't do anything life-threatening.  Social death, of course, didn't register.  It never seemed to occur to my father that while he had the power to be rude to all and sundry, I didn't have the same luxury.  No one made allowances for zeroes.

The hallway opened up in front of us as my father headed for the stairs, his calm measured tread echoing in the air.  I followed him, pausing just long enough to glance at the Family Sword, buried in the Family Hearthstone.  The sword is a genuine Object of Power, crafted over a thousand years ago and handed down from generation to generation.  According to legend, only a true member of the family can draw the sword from the stone.  I’ve seen a couple of apprentices, strong young men, try and fail to pull it free.  The sword had been utterly unmovable.

I’d tried to pull it out myself, one day when Alana’s taunts had become unbearable.  The sword had come out easily, even though I’d only been nine years old.  It was proof, I suppose, that my parents didn't take in a foundling they’d found on the steps ... but I still couldn't do magic.  Half the sword’s true powers seemed beyond my reach.  My father, wielding the sword, could work wonders.  But then, he could work wonders without the sword too.

“Come on,” Dad said, crossly.  “Don’t dawdle.”

I gave the sword one last look, then hurried up the stairs after him.  The lower two floors of the mansion are devoted to my family’s work, ranging from living rooms for the apprentices and servants to forges, spell-crafting chambers and the lower library, one of the finest libraries in the world.  The really interesting - and unique - texts are kept in the upper library, but most magicians would be pleased merely to have a look at the lower library.  It’s the greatest store of magical knowledge in the kingdom, outside Jude’s, and it’s all ours.

The upper two levels, protected by a set of inner wards, are reserved for the family.  No one, not even Dad’s most trusted apprentices, can pass through the doors without permission, unless they’re recognised as being of family blood.  The doors open easily at my touch, but won’t move an inch for someone who isn’t keyed into the wards.  And there are more powerful defences lurking in reserve, just waiting for someone foolish enough to break through the outer layer.  A magician who tries to break into our private quarters will spend the rest of his life wishing he hadn't.

I wanted to go to my bedroom, if only long enough to splash water on my face, but Dad led me down the corridor and into the dining room before I could say a word.  The smaller dining room is still larger than the classroom, easily big enough to sit thirty or forty guests ... I’ve often wondered why Dad insists on having family dinners, when we could easily eat in our rooms.  There are only five of us, after all.  My parents, my sisters and myself.

Alana shot me a smug look as I entered the room.  She looked ... regal.  My mother had been teaching Bella and her all the tricks she needed to get herself crowned queen bee, once she entered Jude’s.  I’d sat in on a couple of lessons, when Bella had insisted on not suffering alone, but I’d found them immensely boring.  Popularity was meaningless compared to power and I had none.  As long as my sisters were around, I’d always be an outcast.  Who would be my friend when it would expose them to my sisters’ malice?

I rolled my eyes at Alana, trying not to show how much it hurt to see her.  Alana held herself like an adult, her long dark hair hanging down to brush against her shoulders.  The dark blue dress she wore drew attention to her face, which was carefully made up to hide all traces of imperfections.  Even at twelve, Alana was tall.  She’d be taller than my mother by the time she graduated and went on to run the family.  And the simple necklace she wore, glittering with eldritch light, was a sign of power.

“Dad,” Bella said.  “You’re back!”

Dad smiled at her.  I tried to keep my expression under control as I sat down.  Bella had always been Dad’s favourite, although I’d never understood why.  She was short and pudgy, barely putting in the minimum effort to succeed at anything.  I could imagine her graduating from school and then coming home to spend the rest of her life vegetating, despite having more magic in her fingertips than most people have in their entire bodies.  She was clever enough, when she could be bothered, but she rarely cared enough to put in the effort.  I would have done far more if I’d had her powers.

But then, she didn't need to work, not if she didn't want to.  The family would take care of her for the rest of her life.

Dad clapped his hands, the sound echoing outside the room.  I groaned inwardly - even that simple spell was denied me - and watched as Lucy wheeled the food into the room.  The last day of school, it seemed, was special.  Cook had produced his finest roast beef, then used magic to keep it hot until we were ready to eat.  Lucy might be a maid, but even she could cast the spells to release the food.  She’d always been nice to me, at least when she knew I was listening, yet I’d seen her cast a few disdainful glances at me when she’d thought I wasn't looking.  I don't know why.  Alana had targeted Lucy with a few nasty spells before Mum had put a stop to it.  Whatever Mum had said to my sister had clearly been effective.

“Let us eat,” Dad said, after casting a spell to make sure the food was safe to eat.  I don’t know why he bothered - the cook had been with the family longer than I had been alive - but he insisted on checking, every time.  He’d taught us all the spells too, although I couldn't make them work.  Someone who wanted to poison me would have an easy time of it.  “Lucy, carve the meat.”

Henry, the cook, had exceeded himself - as usual.  I would have enjoyed the meal, I thought, if I hadn't been brooding.  Alana had probably ensured I wouldn't get to enter upper school, even if my father shovelled money in their direction.  Madam Rosebud was probably already complaining to the headmaster about my cheeky attitude.  And if I didn't get to go on, what then?  There were no apprenticeships for students without powers, at least in Shallot.  I couldn't even get hired as a sailor until I was older!

And I’d still need some spells if I wanted to sail, I thought, numbly.  What can I do with no magic at all?

“I worked out the last stages of the potion,” Mum said.  “The idiot who wrote the book left out two steps and altered five of the quantities.”

“Well done, Mum,” Bella said.  “Can anyone brew it now?”

“Caitlyn can’t,” Alana said.  She snickered.  “Zeros can’t brew potions.”

I felt my cheeks heat with helpless rage.  Mum had taught me how to brew, but - of course - I lacked the magic to trigger the cascade that turned the potion from a mixture of odd ingredients to something useful.  It didn't matter how carefully I followed the instructions, or what changes I made if I felt like experimenting ... nothing worked.  Alana or Bella could take a potion I’d brewed and trigger it, but I couldn’t trigger theirs.  Maybe I was doomed to work in an apothecary.  Someone who had enough magic to start the cascade, but lacked the patience to brew the mixture properly ...

“That’s very good, dear,” Dad said.  “Are you going to write it up?”

“I think so,” Mum said.  “It isn't anything worth trying to reserve for the family.”

“Don’t let Stregheria hear you say that,” Alana said.  She was trying to be grown-up, acting as though she was an adult already.  “She’d expect you to reserve it.”

Mum looked annoyed, her lips thinning until they were almost invisible.  Great Aunt Stregheria certainly would expect the recipe to be held in reserve.  She was a selfish old biddy, utterly devoted to herself.  Mum had never liked her, even before she’d turned us into frogs.  I’d heard, afterwards, that Mum had been on the verge of calling Stregheria out for a duel.  Stregheria was old and powerful, but I wouldn't have bet against my mother.  She was powerful too.

“There is little to be gained by keeping it back,” Mum said, stiffly.  “It’s a basic healing potion, not something radical.”

I listened, absently, as we finished our dinner.  I’d hoped, as soon as Lucy had removed the plates, to be allowed to leave, but no such luck.  Dad told all three of us to follow him to his study.  I sighed, even as Alana exchanged excited looks with Bella.  Dad’s study, to them, was a hall of wonders.  To me, it was just another dangerous room in a dangerous house.

It was, in many ways, the sort of study I’d like to have.  The walls were lined with bookshelves, including many volumes I knew were unique or forbidden; the chairs were charmed to be comfortable, all the better to allow my father to work.  But I also knew the room was strongly warded, so strongly warded that even Mum couldn't enter without permission.  Alana had tried to sneak in a few times, but she’d always been caught.  Dad had not been amused.

“Your mother and I have made some decisions about your futures,” Dad said, once we were sitting on comfortable armchairs.  They were so large that I half-wondered if someone had cast a shrinking spell on me when I wasn't looking.  Even Dad looked small, sitting on his chair.  “The three of you will be going to Jude’s.”

It was so unexpected that I didn't quite grasp what he’d said, not for a long chilling moment.  It had to be a joke, a cruel joke.  Even my sisters looked shocked.  Alana actually paled. And why not?   I’d long since given up hope of going to Jude’s.  Entering a school for magicians without magic ... it would have been safer to cover myself in fish sauce, then go for a swim in the shark tank.

“Dad,” Alana managed, finally.  “Caitlyn can't go to Jude’s!”

Dad fixed her with his stern look.  “And why not?”

Bella spluttered.  “Because she’s a zero!”

“Caitlyn defeated a spell that bested me,” Dad pointed out, icily.  “Can either of you say the same?”

“... I,” Bella said.  “Dad ...”

Alana took over.  “Dad, she hasn't been able to cast a single spell,” she said, talking about me as if I wasn't there.  “She can't even do this!”

She waved a hand in the air.  Sparkling light appeared out of nowhere, surrounding her like a halo.  It was a very basic spell, perhaps one of the most basic.  Light could be bright, perhaps even blinding, but it couldn't cause any real harm.  Most parents preferred to use light spells to teach their kids because the risk of accidentally starting a fire or injuring themselves was minimal.

And she was right.  I couldn't even do that.

“Your sister has magic,” Dad said, firmly.  It was a tone that promised punishment to anyone who dared to disagree with him.  “She just cannot access it.  Being at Jude’s will help her to develop her magic.”

I swallowed, hard.  “Dad ... I can't go.”

“You will,” Dad said.  “The family needs the trinity.”

“We have a weak link,” Alana muttered.

Dad gave her a long considering look.  “Do you still want to go to the party tomorrow evening?”

Alana winced.  “Yes, Dad.”

“Then be quiet,” Dad ordered.  

He looked back at me.  “Caitlyn, I understand your concerns,” he said.  “Be that as it may, you do have magic.  You have to be trained to use it.”

“I don’t,” I said, miserably.

Alana had told me that I’d be disowned when I turned twelve, if I didn't show any signs of magic.  I didn't want to believe her, but I’d always worried.  She’d certainly made it clear that she would disown me, when she became head of the family.  Her great and terrible future would be blighted by a powerless sister ... 

“You can and you will,” Dad said.  “Your mother and I are in agreement.  You and your sisters will enter Jude’s after the summer holidays.”

Bella looked ... nervous.  “We could learn from you instead ...”

“You’re growing older,” Dad said.  “And there are limits to what we can teach you.”

“And we have to make friends and contacts,” Alana added.

“Quite right,” Dad agreed.

He launched into an explanation of the problems facing our house, the same explanation he’d given me earlier.  I barely heard a word.  My sisters had spent the last four years tormenting me with magic, but now ... now I was going to school.  Jude was a good school, according to my parents, yet I’d heard horror stories from some of the apprentices.  If you had strong magic, the school was great; if you were weak, you were picked on by everyone else.  And the teachers did nothing to stop it.  Alana and Bella wouldn't have any trouble - the family name would make up for any problems - but me ...?  I’d be lucky if I wasn’t permanently trapped as a frog by the end of the first week.

Alana poked my arm.  “Pay attention.”

I looked up.  Dad was looking back at me, annoyed.

“Now, there will be some specific accommodations made,” he said.  “Alana, Bella ... you will not discuss your sister’s problems with anyone.  You will both be under a binding spell to make sure of it.”

“But Dad,” Alana protested.  “I ...”

“The matter is settled,” Dad said, firmly.

Alana shot me a nasty look that promised trouble.  A binding spell wasn't particularly dangerous, not if cast by a skilled mage, but it was a very blunt way of saying that my father didn't trust her to keep her mouth shut.   It was an insult, in many ways.  And I wouldn't put it past my sister to figure out a way around the binding.  Dad wouldn't risk putting a strong spell on his daughter.  If nothing else, Mum wouldn't let him.

I tried, anyway.  “Dad, I can't work magic,” I said.  

Dad cocked his head.  “Do you want to work magic?”

I nodded.  I’d wanted it ever since I’d understood that my parents were magicians.  And I still wanted it.  The power Bella wasted so casually ... what could I do, if that were mine instead of hers?

“Then this is your best chance,” Dad said, seriously.  He clapped his hand on my shoulder, reassuringly.  I knew he meant well, but ...  “The tutors are the best in the world.  They can teach you.”

“Your last chance,” Alana said.

I shook my head.  I’d never been able to get a spell to work, not one.  There were people with no talent who could do better than that.  But me?  I couldn't cast a single spell.  

Perhaps I should run away, I thought.  It was a tempting thought.  But where would I go?

Dad clapped his hands together.  “Caitlyn, you can go,” he said.  “Alana, Bella; I have some other matters to discuss with you.”

I nodded, then turned and left the study.  My sisters were going to hate me after today.  The binding wouldn't hurt them - Dad would see to that - but it would be humiliating.  I’d find it humiliating too, if someone had cast such a spell on me.  And they had ...

Revenge, I promised myself.  Alana might have magic, but I wasn't going to bow the knee to her.  I wasn’t doing anything else until bedtime, so I might as well plan revenge.  And then see if I can give her a fright.

Smiling, I hurried back to my room.  I had some thinking to do.

Chapter Three

My mother has a foolproof way of getting us out of bed in the mornings.  The bell sounds at eight o’clock, followed by the bed shaking - and eventually pitching us out of bed, if we haven’t managed to scramble out before it’s too late.  It was a surprise, therefore, when I awoke the following morning and discovered that it was nearly ten.  My mother had clearly decided to let us sleep in for once.  I knew it wouldn't last.

I sat upright, muttering words I wasn't supposed to say under my breath.  It hadn't been a nightmare, then.  I was going to Jude’s, like it or not.  My sisters might not be able to tell anyone about my problem, but it would become impossible to hide my lack of magic the moment I tried to cast my first spell.  And then ... I looked around the bare walls, feeling despondent.  A simple spell would be enough to decorate the room any way I wanted, but I couldn’t cast it.  And my parents had flatly refused to let anyone else cast it for me.

I glanced up as there was a sharp knock on the door.  The wards surrounding the room would have alerted the maid as soon as I awoke.

“Come in,” I called.

The door opened.  Lucy stood there, beaming.  She had always been a morning person, while my sisters and I hated being woken to go to school.  I blinked in surprise as she held out a tray of cereal, pancakes and juice.  Breakfast in bed was very rare, in our household.  We were normally expected to stagger down to the dining room before we were allowed to eat.

“Your mother said you could have breakfast in bed,” Lucy said, answering my unspoken question.  “She thought you might like it.”

“Thank you,” I said.  Mum had always said I had to be nice to the servants.  “Where ... where are my sisters?”

“Miss Bella is still abed,” Lucy informed me.  She put the tray on the bedside table and smiled, rather dryly.  “Miss Alana has already left the hall.”

“Off to buy yet another dress,” I muttered.  Alana bought a new dress for every party, even though she already had enough to outfit every girl in the class.  “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

“I believe Sonja will be doing her hair this afternoon,” Lucy said.  She bowed.  “Will that be all, Miss?”

“Yes, thank you,” I said.  

I watched her go, then opened my drawer and removed the magic sensor.  It wasn't much of a Device, to be honest, but I’d designed and built it myself.  All it really did was vibrate in the presence of magic, alerting me to any traps someone might have left in my vicinity.  I wouldn't have put it past Alana to hex my food, if she was still mad at me ... I shook my head, ruefully.  Of course she was still mad at me.  I’d ruined her plans to be a social butterfly just by existing.  

The device didn't move as I waved it over the food.  I put it aside, took a long swig of juice and then tucked into the pancakes.  Cook had done an excellent job, as always.  I was a little more reluctant to finish my cereal, but I knew better than to leave it.  Mum would have noticed and told me off, then banned me from eating pancakes for a month.  My mother is very keen on healthy eating.

I put the tray to one side as soon as I had finished, then showered and dressed before hurrying out of the room and heading down towards the forge.  Alana could be relied upon to spend hours shopping for clothes - I’d once seen her try on everything in the store - but I needed to get my trap in place before it was too late.  If she came back too soon, all was ruined.  I passed through the secure door and headed on downwards, passing through two more sets of warded doors.  Dad would know where I was going, I was sure.  He just wouldn't know why.

The forge itself is really more of a large workshop, with everything needed to make Devices of Power.  My father and Sir Griffons were in a sideroom, talking about something; one of my father’s apprentices was standing in front of his desk, carefully hammering out a piece of metal.  Apprentice Brian was kind, I had always thought.  He wasn't a particularly strong magician - certainly not compared to my father - but he was good with his hands.  He’d made quite a few Devices of Power that had lasted for several weeks before starting to show signs of decay.

“Hi, Caitlyn,” he called.  “You alright?”

“I’m going to Jude’s,” I said.  I opened one of the drawers and dug through it to find my stash of makeshift Devices.  “Do you have an etching knife?”

“Ouch,” Brian said.  He reached for the knife and passed it over to me.  “You’d better be careful there.”

I looked up and saw very real concern in his eyes.  Brian hadn't been told anything about my power, or lack of it, but he wasn't blind.  He would have noticed, I was sure, that I’d never cast a spell.  Maybe the forging would make up for it ... or maybe not.  No Device is unbeatable, whatever you may hear from the forger.  Only Objects of Power are unbeatable - and even they have their weaknesses.  A smart man can outwit someone wielding one and beat him easily.  

“I will,” I said.  Maybe I should run away.  I did have some brewing skills ... I just couldn't make the potions work.  But my father would track me down, easily.  “Do you have any advice?”

“Try not to annoy the upperclassmen,” Brian said, after a moment.  “And don’t annoy your Dorm Head.”

“Thanks,” I said, rather sourly.  “Anything else?”

Brian shrugged.  I shrugged back, then turned to work on my little project.  Forgery had always been an interest of mine, ever since Dad thought it might just serve as a key to unlocking my powers.  Alana and Bella had never shown any interest in learning the skill, but I had.  It was the closest I had come to real magic.  I carved runes into the metal, then shaped it carefully.  Brian kept a wary eye on me as I worked.  It was annoying, but I didn't blame him.  Dad would never forgive him if something happened to me in the forge.

“That’s a complex piece of work,” Brian said, when I had finished.  “Do you want me to check it?”

“No, thanks,” I said.  I gave him a smile.  “It should be fine.”

I took the Device - and a couple of others I had made earlier - and stuck them in my knapsack before hurrying out onto the lawn.  My mother’s herb garden lay on the other side, a vast collection of plants and suchlike she used to brew potions.  She’d taught me how to harvest them, years ago, but the knowledge had never really been useful.  Any fool could harvest herbs, with a little care.  Getting the more exotic ingredients had always been a pain.  I pitied the men who hunted basilisks and manticores for their skins.  One or two dead beasts were enough to make a poor man rich, if he survived the meeting.  Manticores were nasty.

The pond sat on the far side of the garden, teeming with life.  Small fish, frogs ... even water snakes  ... my sisters and I had refused to visit for a long time, after hearing that they were being bred for potions ingredients.  A single small frog can supply enough material for a dozen potions, if prepared properly ... I pushed the thought aside and knelt down by the pond, watching for my chance.  The frogs were bred and trained not to run when a big hand reached down and grabbed hold.  Suppressing my revulsion, I scooped up the frog, dumped him into my knapsack and hurried back to the hall.  Time was not on my side.

There was still no sign of Bella as I reached the fourth floor, but I wasn't surprised.  I knew from past experience that Bella would stay in her bed as long as possible, unless Mum decided she’d slept long enough and ordered the bed to tip her out.  There was no sign of Alana either.  I hoped that meant she was still out shopping.  Getting caught sneaking into her room would be disastrous.  I tapped the door, making sure she wasn't in, then pulled the first Device out of the knapsack and held it against the doorknob.  It revealed nothing.  I was careful, anyway.  Alana had been told not to hex her door - the maids cleaned the room every week - but I didn't trust her to listen to our mother.  She knew I was probably planning revenge.

I pushed the door open, very carefully.  The room was brightly lit - warm sunlight streaming through the windows - but quiet, very quiet.  I glanced around as I inched forward, holding the Device in front of me like a wand.  Alana had decorated her room in a manner fit for a queen, red and gold everywhere. I couldn't help feeling a stab of envy as I studied her bed and wardrobes - and the piles of clothing that lay everywhere.  My parents had rewarded her for every spell she’d learnt to cast, while I ...

Not now, I told myself, sharply.

Alana’s trunk - a deceptively simple wooden design - was sitting by the side of the room, seemingly out of place against the gilt decor.  The maids wouldn’t dare touch it, even to dust the lid.  I held the Device close and tensed as it vibrated.  Alana could have used almost any spell to protect her most treasured possessions, but I had a feeling I knew which one she’d used.  She had a habit of messing around with transfiguration spells.

I removed the second Device from my knapsack, braced myself and held it against the golden clasp.  If I’d gotten something wrong, I was about to find out the hard way.  There was a brilliant flash of light - just for a second, I saw the image of a surprised-looking frog hanging in the air - which faded rapidly.  I smirked and removed the frog from my bag, dropping him on the floor.  Alana would know, of course, that someone had been in her room.  But would she realise that that frog wasn't me?

I slipped back out of the room and closed the door, very quietly.  There was no other way out.  The frog wouldn't be able to escape.  I put the two Devices back in my knapsack - the spell-drainer was already burned out, judging by the smell - then settled down in a nearby cupboard to wait.  It wouldn't be long, I hoped, before Alana returned home.

It was nearly an hour, according to my watch, before I heard her shrill voice echoing down the corridor.  I couldn't help feeling a stab of sympathy for whichever maid had been asked - ordered, more like - to accompany her.  Taking Alana shopping was a thankless task.  And then I heard Alana giggle.  She thought she had caught me.

“Leave the bags here,” she ordered.  I didn't have to strain to hear her voice.  “I’ll take them inside later.  Go tell Travis you’re back.”

“Yes, Miss,” Sonja said.

I felt another stab of sympathy as Sonja hurried away.  She was a nice girl, I thought, but she was clumsy.  Travis had probably ordered her to escort Alana as punishment for something, although I found it hard to imagine a crime that merited that level of punishment.  It was definitely cruel and unusual.  I smiled at the thought, then listened carefully as Alana opened her door.

“Well, little zero,” Alana said.  I had a mental image of her rubbing her hands together in glee.  She’d done that years ago, when she’d turned me into a frog for the first time.  “You do look a sight, don’t you?”

My sister loves to gloat.  And, if I had been turned into a frog, I would have had no choice, but to listen.  She went on and on, mocking my lack of magic and threatening all sorts of hexes ... and then cast the counterspell, dramatically.  I forced myself not to giggle as I heard the sound.  Nothing happened, of course.  There’s no point in trying to counter a spell that didn’t exist.

Alana screamed.  I covered my mouth to keep from laughing out loud.  The spell she’d used was very basic.  She certainly hadn't learnt anything too complex, yet.  It should have been easy to remove the spell.  Instead ... I heard her sputtering, repeating the spell time and time again.  It was useless, of course.  And yet ... she was clearly having problems trying to understand what had happened.  Her protection spell had triggered, of course.  She knew someone had been turned into a frog.

Except I forced it to discharge instead, I thought.  The trick had been simple enough, with a little preparation.  And my sister would never even consider the possibility.  The spell had snapped, but it had snapped at nothing.  She can't tell the difference.

The door opened.  Alana hurried out of her room and down towards the sitting room, where my parents would be having lunch.  I slipped out of the cupboard and followed her, glancing into her open door to make sure the frog hadn't been left behind.  Her voice echoed up the corridor as she spoke to Dad, begging him to undo the spell.  The panic in her voice caused me a pang of guilt, even though she’d done worse to me.  My parents might be disappointed in my lack of magic, but they wouldn't be pleased if I’d been seriously hurt.

“There is no magic on this frog,” Dad said, sternly.  He didn't sound pleased.  “Alana ...”

“It’s Caitlyn,” Alana insisted.  She went on and on about it, her voice rising higher and higher.  Her words rattled out so fast that I had trouble making them out.  “She sneaked into my room and triggered the trap and I can't turn her back!  I ...”

Dad’s voice darkened.  “This is a real frog,” he said.  “I don’t know where your sister has gone, but there’s no magic on this frog.  Which spell did you use to protect your trunk?”

“The one from Hawker’s Index,” Alana managed.  She sounded as though she was trying not to cry.  The joke had probably gone far enough.  “I should be able to break it ...”

I chose that moment to step into the room.  “Dad,” I said, as casually as possible, “can we talk about ...?”

Alana let out a furious scream and pitched the frog at me.  “You ...”

“That will do,” Dad snapped.  Alana’s hand lowered, a moment before she could throw a change spell at me.  “Alana, I do not have time to deal with your practical jokes!”

“Particularly one that could have ended very badly,” Mum added.  “Go to your room.  We will discuss your conduct later.”

“And you are grounded for a week,” Dad said.  His voice was icy cold.  “Go.”

“But I have a party,” Alana protested.  “Dad, I promised I would attend.  Cythera ...”

“Go,” Dad snapped.

Alana shot me a look that promised murder - or at least a humiliating hex - as she stamped past me and down the corridor.  I turned to watch her go, trying to school my face into something resembling calm.  I’d confess later, perhaps.  Alana being grounded would be very satisfactory - the sound of her slamming the door was loud enough to be heard outside - but it meant she’d be in the hall instead of wandering the grounds or visiting friends.  

I turned back to Dad.  He was giving me a very sharp look.  I half-expected him to demand answers, if he hadn't worked out what had happened already.  But he chose not to ask any questions. I decided it would be better not to ask why.

“I assume you don’t want to go to the party,” he said.  “We’ll have a family meeting tonight, then.”

I shrugged.  I’d grown to loathe birthday parties as I’d grown older.  Most of the guests were from magical families and knew enough spells to be dangerous.  It wasn't uncommon for two-thirds of the guests to be turned into animals or objects as the rest showed off their powers, trying to establish a pecking order.  I was always the first to be turned into something - or worse - before I’d stopped going to parties.  That hadn't helped the rumours about me.

“You can help me brew potions this afternoon,” Mum said.  She sounded cross, although I wasn't sure if she was angry at me, or Alana, or Dad.  “And you can do a little research in the library for me.”

“Yes, Mum,” I said.  There was something in her voice that told me that Mum knew everything.  Maybe she thought Alana needed a shock, but she wasn't going to let me get away with it.  “What would you like me to do?”

“Research Fingal’s Tonic,” Mum ordered.  “I have to brew it this afternoon.”

Dad smiled.  “Good luck.”

I sighed.  The tonic was complex, very complex.  And utterly beyond most magicians, even the ones with formal training.  And me, of course.  It said a great deal about my mother that she could brew it so easily.  She didn't really need my help - or anyone’s, for that matter.  But then, my mother had always been very capable.  How else could she have proven a match for Dad?

“And we will discuss other matters over the brew,” Mum added.  “And I want you to listen.”

“Yes, Mother,” I said.

Chapter Four

The book open in front of me was technically illegal, but my parents had never seen fit to ban me from reading it.  They had banned Alana and Bella from entering the darker sections of the upper library, much to Alana’s irritation ... I really didn't know what it meant that they'd allowed me to look.  Was it an attempt to trick my magic into emerging or a quiet admission that much of the knowledge within the library would be useless to me?  I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

Merely touching the pages made my skin crawl, but I worked my way through them one by one, parsing out the Old Script word by word.  It wasn't good news.  As long as I shared blood with my family, I would always be part of them.  Anyone with a blood connection to me - my sisters, my parents, my grandparents - would be able to track me down, merely through the blood.  There were ways to cut the link, apparently, but they all required sophisticated knowledge and powerful magic.  I couldn't begin to craft the spell I’d need, let alone cast it.  I was doomed to be Caitlyn Aguirre until the day I died.

Or I get disowned, I thought, sourly.

I sat back in the chair and sighed, heavily.  The last month had been spent preparing for school and trying to find a way to get out of going, but I had failed.  My parents had proven grimly resolute.  No amount of begging and pleading had convinced them to change their minds.  And while I had considered ways of running away, I hadn't found a way to escape without being dragged back in disgrace.  I couldn't break the blood tie ... and the only people who could help, apart from my family, were my family’s enemies.  There was no way I could go to them and ask for help.  I’d be lucky if they only laughed at me.

Closing the book, I looked up at the towering shelves.  They were lined with books, hundreds of forbidden and semi-forbidden volumes ... half of them written in Old Script or a couple of languages that dated back to the mythical days before the Thousand-Year Empire.  I could read them, barely - my parents had taught me four different languages as I grew older - but half of the knowledge within their pages was either outdated or warped in some way.  My mother had often complained that many of the great brewers had changed their recipes, concealing key details from their readers.  I’d helped her experiment - trying to fill in the gaps - enough to know she had a point.  

Although it might not have been deliberate, I thought.  They took so much for granted that they never realised we might not know what they knew.

“A good read, isn't it?”

I jumped.  I’d been more twitchy than usual over the past month - Alana had been on the warpath - but Apprentice Vassilios had still managed to sneak up on me.  I hadn't even known Dad had granted him access to the upper library, although he must have.  No one could enter without Dad’s permission.  I certainly couldn't have broken into the library without taking my life in both hands.

“It’s a creepy read,” I said.  “The author was a right nutcase.”

I turned to look at him.  Vassilios was tall and thin, only marginally shorter than Dad.  His hair, already greying because of an accident back in school, was cropped close to his scalp, giving him a severe look.  There was something about him that worried me, an odd disdain that was clearly evident in every word he spoke.  He looked down on everyone, except my father.  And he never spoke to me unless he had no choice.

“Most of the old magicians were of dubious sanity,” Vassilios informed me.  “But they pushed the limits of the possible.”

I shrugged.  I’d heard the debate before and I hadn’t cared much then, either.  There was no point in worrying, as long as I couldn't work magic.  I couldn't cast basic spells, let alone push the limits of the possible.  And I really didn't want to be anywhere near Vassilios.  I got quite enough sneering from my sisters.

“It doesn't matter,” I said.  I picked up the book and returned it to the shelf.  “I’ll see you later.”

He looked faintly disgusted - as if he had smelt something unpleasant - as I turned and walked out the door.  I ignored him as best as I could.  Dad had chosen him as an apprentice and that meant we were stuck with him, at least until he gained his mastery.  No doubt Vassilios would go on to be a valued member of Dad’s patronage network, one of many working to advance the family’s interests in Magus Court.  And I ...

I fought down a wave of bitter despair as I reached my room and threw myself down on the bed.  There was no escaping it.  I was going to Jude’s ... and I wasn't likely to leave again, whatever happened.  Some of the horror stories were actually true.  The trunk sitting in the middle of my room mocked me, a grim reminder of all the supplies we’d purchased and packed over the last week.  I might have enjoyed it, perhaps, if I hadn't known it spelt my doom.  There were some classes, perhaps, I could take without magic ... but I didn't have a hope of passing the practicals.  

There was a sharp tap at the door.  “Mum says you have to come to dinner,” Bella called, through the wood.  “Now!”

I groaned.  The cook had prepared a feast to celebrate our last day at home - as if we weren't going to come back - but I knew it would taste like ashes in my mouth.  I was going to be humiliated, if I was lucky.  At worst ... I might not survive the first month.  There were plenty of horror stories about students who’d been seriously injured or killed and there was a grain of truth in most of them.   Careless students, stupid students ... at least they’d had magic.  I had none.  

But there was no point in trying to defy Mum.  She’d just use magic to haul me down to the dining room.  I stood, checked my appearance in the mirror and hurried down the stairs.  The smell of roast turkey and all the trimmings wafted up to greet me.  Mum was standing by the table, looking impatient.  I bowed my head in apology and took my seat.  A second later, I heard a loud raspberry.  I jumped up in shock.

Alana giggled.  I glared at her.  “Oh, very mature.”

“This is your last day before school,” Mum said, gently.  For once, she sounded almost relaxed.  “You’ll meet a better class of practical joker there.”

I snorted as I sat down, more gingerly this time.  Alana was good enough to put a second spell on the chair, hidden under the first.  But nothing happened as my father started to cut up the turkey and load up the plates.

“White meat only, please,” Bella said.  “Dad ...”

Dad shot her a sharp look.  “You’ll eat what you’re given.”

“I’m looking forward to going to school,” Alana said, just a little too loudly.  “I want to try out for team captain and ...”

“You don’t get to be captain until you’re an upperclassman,” Mum said.  Alana looked downcast.  “And you normally have to hex all your rivals before you get the post.”

Dad smiled.  “Was that how you became team captain?”

“No one dared oppose me,” Mum said.   She smiled back at him.  “And I had been playing netball since second year.  The team wanted to keep some continuity after the last captain and three of the players graduated.”

I kept my face expressionless.  Alana had been talking about netball all month, but only as a way to network with other schools and students.  She didn't want to play merely for the fun of it.  I couldn’t help finding that somewhat pitiable.  I would have liked to play, if I’d been able to cast the spells.  As it was ...

“It should be great,” Alana said.  “We’ll sleep in a dorm, we’ll have midnight feasts, we’ll ...”

“Great,” I said, sourly.  I’d never be able to get away from my fellow students.  Jude’s was in Shallot - we could see the towers from our bedrooms - but students weren't allowed to leave the school during term.  Alana would love it.  I’d find it a nightmare.  “What will you do if the Dorm Head refuses to turn a blind eye?”

“Bribe her, of course,” Alana said.  She smiled, confidently.  “The family name ...”

“... Will not get you out of trouble, young lady,” Dad said, sternly.  “And if you want to waste your inheritance bribing upperclassmen, you’re being silly.”

Alana batted her eyelashes at him.  It looked profoundly unnatural.  “But Dad ...”

“But nothing,” Dad said.  He tapped the table, sharply.  “The family name is not to be taken lightly.  You are not to expect that people will bow the knee to you, merely because you carry my name.  You are to earn the right to have people bow to you.”

He leaned forward.  “I would be most displeased if I heard you were using our name as a weapon,” he added.  “And you would regret it.”

Alana looked down.  “Dad ...”

“You need to be worthy of the name,” Dad said.  “You have to earn it.”

Bella and I exchanged glances.  Triplets or not, only one of us could inherit Dad’s position ... and I wouldn’t have cared to bet against Alana.  Bella was lazy, too lazy to put in the work necessary to maintain the family; I couldn't cast a basic cantrip, let alone modify the wards protecting the hall.  Dad would have to pick Alana as his successor by default, unless he chose to seek a successor from our cousins.  And Mum would be furious if he chose to look outside the immediate family.

“This will be a challenge,” Mum added.  She sliced her turkey slowly.  “But we have faith in you.”

“You’re sending Caitlyn into a school she cannot handle,” Alana pointed out.  Her voice dripped sweet reason.  “She will ...”

“She will have all the time and encouragement she needs to develop her powers,” Dad said, firmly.  “You will help her, of course.”

Alana shot me a bitter look.  She’d hate trying to help me, particularly as she believed it would be futile.  Bella wouldn't be much better.  Sure, she wasn't often malicious - although she’d hexed me badly a few weeks ago - but she was lazy.  I had the feeling she’d do as little work as she could get away with, once she was in school.  Perhaps I could work with her ...

“Of course, Dad,” Alana said, sweetly.  

Dad’s eyes narrowed.  Only a complete idiot would have believed her - and Dad was one of the smartest men I knew.  Perhaps the smartest.  Running the family alone was a full-time job.

“Remember the binding,” Dad said, finally.  His voice hardened.  “And remember - the weakest link isn't always the obvious.”

Alana lowered her eyes.  “Yes, father.”

“You have an advantage because your parents are both magicians,” Dad added.  “And that gave you an education many other students lack.  But it has also made you dependent.  Now ... you have to prove that you can stand on your own two feet.  You have to learn to be strong and resourceful.  What will happen after I die?”

I shuddered.  I knew precisely what Alana would do, after our parents died.  Her very first step would be to kick me out, if she was feeling generous.  If not ... I didn't want to think about it.

The turkey was perfect, the potatoes crisp and yet soft ... even the vegetables tasted nice, after Mum glared me into eating them.  And the pudding was utterly wonderful.  But it still felt like my last meal before death.  Tomorrow, I’d put on the uniform and walk with my family to Jude’s and then ... would I come home again?  The family name wouldn't protect me, not if Dad was right.  There would be too many students keen to test the latest generation.

“The family depends on you,” Dad said, when we had finally finished the meal.  He rose and beckoned us into the sitting room.  We followed him, surprised.  “And we have faith that you will rise to the challenge.”

Thanks, I thought, sourly.  

Alana looked pleased as Lucy poured us all small glasses of fruit juice.  My parents had never allowed us to join them in the sitting room after dinner, not until now.  It was for grown-ups, we’d been told.  The children - us and any guests - went elsewhere.  But now ... I sipped my juice, feeling very young indeed.  Dad was right.  All three of us - even me - had lived a protected life.  Now ... we were going out into the big wide world, where our family name was as much a curse as it was a blessing.  

And I’m completely defenceless, I thought, morbidly.  All someone has to do is shoot a spell at me if they want to test the rumours.

I’d made a small collection of Devices, but Dad had confiscated them the moment he’d checked my trunk.  They were forbidden, he’d explained.  I’d argued, to no avail.  Students weren't allowed Devices of Power unless they were forged in the school itself.  There was a risk of someone producing a genuinely dangerous Device ... 

“But I know what I’m doing,” I’d protested.

“They don’t know that,” Dad had countered.  “And they won’t make exceptions for you.”

“You have seven years of schooling to enjoy,” Dad said.  The way he said it suggested that endure would probably be a better word.  “After that, you will be adults.  You can enter apprenticeship contracts or live apart from us or even get married.  And then, you will speak to us as equals.”

As if, I thought.  

“And the whole world will open up before you,” Mum added.  She smiled, clearly remembering something from her life before becoming a mother.  “You may travel, if you wish.”

I would have liked that, once upon a time.  I’d never left Shallot, not even when Dad had travelled to Tintagel to consult with the king’s sorcerers.  The maps had fascinated me - I’d read all the stories of great explorers prowling the oceans or probing the Desolation where the Thousand-Year Empire’s capital had once been.  I’d never been put off by stories of wild magic and strange transformations.  But as I’d grown older, I’d come to realise that my complete lack of a gift hampered me in more ways than one.  I might never be allowed to leave the hall and explore.

Maybe I could, as an adult, I told myself.  It wasn't as if the family wanted an overgrown child - or a cripple.  Alana would be glad to see the back of me.

“Or visit the capital,” Dad said.  “The king might grant you audience.”

“I could be presented to the queen,” Alana said.  She smiled, suddenly.  “Would you take me there?”

“When you’re eighteen, if you wish,” Mum said.  Her eyes narrowed.  “But I would advise against it.”

Dad spoke before any of us could ask questions.  “None of this will be easy,” he admitted, warningly.  “But your mother and I survived it.  And you three will survive too.  Alana, Belladonna, Caitlyn ... you will learn what you need to know.  Make us proud.”

Alana beamed.  “Of course, father.”

Dad checked his watch.  “You should be in bed soon,” he added.  We groaned.  It was only seven in the evening.  “You’ll be waking up at six tomorrow, ready to start your first day at school.  The first day is always the worst.  Just remember ... you were born and raised in Shallot, with magic all around you.  Some of your fellows will not have had that honour.”

“They might be commoners,” Alana said, shocked.  “Dad ...”

“They’re commoners with magic,” Dad said, sharply.  “Not just little spells, but real talent.  I advise you to remember that, young lady.  Or it won’t be pretty.”

“Particularly as your maternal grandparents were both common-born,” Mum added, crossing her arms.  “At Jude’s, talent is all that matters.  Your birth isn't that great an advantage if you keep being outdone by commoners.  Trust me - when the time comes to decide which of you will join the upperclassmen, you will be judged on your magic, not on your family name.”

Great, I thought, sarcastically.  They’ll kick me out then for sure.

Alana looked embarrassed.  “But ... but they won't know how to comport themselves in society.”

“They can learn,” Dad said.  He gave her a sharp look, then glanced at Bella and I.  “And you can teach them.”

I wondered, suddenly, if Dad had ever faced any problems with his side of the family for marrying Mum.  Great Aunt Stregheria had never liked us.  Some of his other relatives hadn't been that kind either, although none of them had been more than impolite.  But then, Mum had given birth to a zero.  My existence suggested there was something tainted about Mum’s magic.  I could easily imagine some of my paternal relatives sneering at her behind her back, maybe just out of earshot.  They wouldn't have cared to admit that the problem might have come from the other side of the family.

“Go to bed,” Mum said, gently.  She kissed each of us, one by one.  I wondered, suddenly, if she thought she wasn't going to see us tomorrow.  “And tomorrow ... tomorrow you start your adventure.”

I swallowed.  Tomorrow was going to be the worst day of my life.

Chapter Five

“You look nice, Miss Caitlyn,” Sonja said.  “Do you want me to brush your hair?”

I shook my head as I examined my appearance in the mirror.  Jude’s uniform looked ... odd, at least to me.  A black skirt, reaching all the way down to my ankles; black shoes, shining under the light; a black shirt, a black blazer ... I looked like a professional mourner going to a funeral.  I couldn't help thinking that I should be practicing my wailing.  A single white band wrapped around my right arm, marking me out as a first-year student.  Other than that, everything was black.

“It could be worse,” Sonja said.  “Do you know what the boys at Evesham have to wear?”

“No,” I said.  Evesham was a university for older boys intent on entering the civil service.  It probably had an even more absurd uniform.  “And I don’t care.”

Sonja’s face went blank, a clear sign she was annoyed.  I felt a pang of guilt, which I swiftly suppressed.  There was a good chance I would never see home again, unless I did something so appalling that Jude’s kicked me out within the first week or two.  And yet, going by all the horror stories, what was expulsion-worthy?  Jude’s seemed to be very tolerant of misbehaviour, bullying and magical accidents.  I was dead.

I hadn't wanted to eat, when I was dragged out of bed.  Mum had forced some toast and orange juice down my throat, while lecturing Alana and Bella for chatting too loudly.  Mum doesn't like getting up early either, even for us.  Dad put in an appearance at breakfast, then vanished again while we were getting dressed.  I knew he would be taking us to the school gates, but it still felt as if we were being abandoned.  The butterflies in my stomach were breeding.  And yet ...

“I’m sorry,” I said.  I meant it.  “I just ...”

“You’ll be fine,” Sonja said.  “You’re not as clumsy as me.”

I sighed.  Sonja was clumsy.  But she could cast spells, which made up for a lot.  She’d never be a great sorceress - she didn't have the time or inclination to train - but still ... she could work magic.  She had plenty of opportunities in her life, if she left our service.  I had none.

She checked my uniform one final time, then hurried me down to the lobby.  Alana stood there, somehow managing to look regal even in the absurd black outfit.  We looked at each other and started giggling, just as Mum pushed Bella into the room.  Judging from her sour expression, Bella had tried to go back to sleep instead of getting dressed.  I understood precisely how she felt.

“You remind me of me,” Mum said, briskly.  “I’m sure you’ll do fine.”

I rolled my eyes as she turned away, ordering the servants to have our trunks shipped to the school.  Alana looked good in the uniform, but Bella looked sloppy and I felt like a fraud.  I was a fraud.  I couldn't even sense the protective magic fizzing around the hallway.  How many traps had I walked into because I couldn't sense the magic waiting for me?  I’d lost count.  And here, I was one of the family.  I wouldn't have that advantage at Jude’s.  

Mum turned back and launched into another lecture about how she expected us to behave ourselves while living up to the family name.  I did my best to pretend to listen, although I’m sure she didn't buy it for a second.  My heart was beating so fast I rather suspected my sisters could hear it.  By the time Dad emerged from the shadows, decked out in his black robes of office, I was almost relieved to see him.  It was time to go.

Travis and the servants waved goodbye to us as we walked through the main door and headed for the gates.  They swung open at Dad’s touch, allowing us to stride onto the streets.  The sun was barely in the sky, yet the streets were already crammed with magicians and their families, walking or riding to school.  I saw a number of familiar faces - girls and boys I had hoped would be my friends, once upon a time - but none of us spoke.  Magic or not, we were all nervous.  Jude’s would be the making or breaking of us.

The breaking, I thought numbly.  

I glanced back at the hall as it vanished into the distance.  Would I ever see it again?  Dad didn't understand, not really.  He didn't want to think that he might have sired a daughter without magic.  And yet ... what value was there in having triplets when one of them didn't have magic?  Did we really bring him good luck?  Could he call upon the promised protections?  

But in the end, it didn't matter.  I couldn't cast the simplest spell.

The streets remained silent, despite the crowds, as we crossed the river into Water Shallot.  I glanced down into the river, watching the fishing boats as they headed out to hunt, then looking past them at the giant sailing vessels.  Traders went everywhere from Shallot, I’d been told; they visited distant lands, then came back with rare goods to sell.  I felt a wistful pang of longing, mingled with the grim realisation that I would probably never be allowed to leave the city.  Even if Dad had let me go, I wouldn't be able to get a job on a sailing ship.

“There,” Alana said.  “I see it!”

I looked forward.  The gates of Jude’s Sorcerous Academy loomed up in front of us, guarded by stone statues that moved when no one was looking.  I should have been able to sense the complex spells keeping them alive, but I couldn't.  The gates were already swinging open, a line of men and women in fancy clothes standing on the far side.  They were the tutors, I guessed, some of the greatest magicians in the world.  Jude’s reputation has spread so far and wide that people have been known to come for thousands of miles, just to find a place within its walls.  

They can have mine, I thought.

Dad hugged all three of us.  “You’ll be fine,” he said.  Parents weren't allowed to enter the gates, unless something had gone very wrong.  “Don’t forget to write to us.”

“We could just pop over to see you,” Bella pointed out.  “Dad ...”

“You can’t leave during term,” Dad reminded her.  “And you are going to write to us.”

Alana caught Bella’s hand.  “Come on,” she said.  “Let’s go!”

I shot Dad one final look, then turned and slowly made my way through the gates.  The other students - my classmates - wore the same attire, save for the boys wearing trousers instead of skirts.  Their parents, however, wore hundreds of different styles, ranging from the understated elegance of the aristocracy to the blatant display of the nouveau riche or makeshift garments of the peasantry.  I wondered why the latter had bothered to come to the city, even though their children had won a scholarship to Jude’s.  Merely staying a night in Shallot would cost a month’s wages.  And their children would have nothing in common with them when they graduated.

Alana was already chatting to a couple of friends as they walked down the lane towards the school, Bella clinging to her side like a limpet.  I felt a flicker of bitter envy, which I rapidly suppressed.  There was no point in moaning any longer.  Instead, I looked past her, trying to take in the school.  It looked like a giant palace, but with so many different styles blurring together that it was obvious that Jude’s was constantly growing.  Merely looking at it made my head hurt.  Parts of the building simply didn’t look right.

A tall girl strode past me, her long blonde hair shining in the sun.  An equally tall boy followed her, glancing from face to face as he passed.  He caught my eye for a long moment, just long enough for me to recognise him.  Akin Rubén, son of Lord Carioca Rubén.  The girl had to be his sister, Isabella Rubén.  I groaned inwardly as Akin nudged his sister, drawing her attention to me.  Lord Rubén might have twins, instead of triplets, but there was no doubt that both of his children had magic.  I’d heard stories about Isabella Rubén.

But those stories came from Alana, I reminded myself, sharply.  Alana and Isabella Rubén would be rivals, if they weren't already.  They might not be true.

I looked back at them as evenly as I could.  Unlike my sisters and myself, Akin and Isabella Rubén were almost identical.  If Akin had grown his blond hair out, it would have been hard to tell the difference between them.  Their blue eyes seemed to glitter coldly at me before they turned away, seeking out new faces.  I felt cold, despite the warmth, as I followed the others into the building.  The last thing I needed was a feud on the first day!

“Girls over here,” a voice called.  I saw a friendly-looking woman standing inside the door, holding a sack.  An older man stood on the other side of the room, calling to the boys.  “Take a token, then pocket it!”

Alana reached into the sack.  I saw something gold in her hand, but I didn't get a good look before she pocketed it.  Shrugging, I reached into the hat myself and touched a number of small objects.  I picked one at random and glanced down at it.  The badge was a tiny golden raven.  It seemed to sparkle in my hand.

“Move on, into the hall,” the woman ordered.  “Don’t delay!”

I stopped, dead, as I saw the Great Hall for the first time.  It was immense, large enough to hold well over a thousand students.  The hundred or so first-years rattled around like peas in a pod, forming small clusters based on power and popularity.  I did my best to ignore the crowd gathering around Alana and Bella as I looked around the hall.  The walls were lined with giant portraits of famous witches and wizards.  There were no names, but I recognised half of them from my father’s lessons.  They’d all done wonders in their time, from a man who’d saved the kingdom to a woman who’d codified the essentials of alchemy.  I’d wanted to be like them, once.

The doors banged shut.  A loud clap echoed through the air.  We turned to see a middle-aged man standing on a podium, peering down at us.  I recognised him instantly.  I’d actually met him when he’d visited the hall, back when I’d been eight or nine.  Castellan Wealden had been kind enough, I supposed, but he hadn't had much to say to a little girl.  Even now, I couldn't help thinking that he looked too young to run a school.

“Welcome to Jude’s,” Castellan Wealden said.

His voice hung in the air, just loud enough for me to hear.  It had to be projection magic, of course.  I wondered if there were spells included to keep us calm.  It wouldn't be difficult, not for the Castellan.  And he might see advantage in keeping us attentive while he spoke.  Some of us had the attention span of gnats.

“Jude’s is the finest magical academy in the world,” he continued, after a brief pause.  “Kings and princes, sorcerers and alchemists ... many of the most famous men and women in the world have passed through our doors, studied with us and then left to make their mark.  I expect each and every one of you to live up to our reputation.”

He droned on and on for several minutes, listing all the famous sorcerers who’d made an impression on the world.  I would have been more impressed if the details hadn't been included in the booklet Mum had forced us to read from cover to cover, then quizzed us mercilessly until we knew it backwards.  Jude’s was famous ... big deal.  It wasn't as if anyone was going to remember me as anything other than an utter disgrace.  

“There are rules in our school,” he told us.  I perked up.  This sounded as though it might be a little more interesting.  “Most of them you’ll learn over the next week from your teachers and supervisors.  But there are some we need to go over right now.

“First, as long as term is in session, you are forbidden to leave the school grounds without permission.  That permission will not be granted unless there is an urgent need - your parents being ill, for example.  You are here to learn, not to be distracted.  Anyone caught trying to sneak off the grounds will regret it.”

I kept my face impassive, somehow.  Dad had talked about upperclassmen sneaking in and out of the school, trying to smuggle sweets and cakes to their fellows, but he’d admitted that fooling the wards was far from easy.  The walls were so heavily charmed that they were almost alive, just waiting for someone foolish enough to try to climb over.  Getting caught would be embarrassing.  Even now, he’d warned, he wouldn't care to try to break into the school.  What hope did I have of circumventing the wards?  

“Second,” the Castellan continued, “you are expected to attend classes as scheduled on your timetable.  If you are repeatedly late for class, steps will be taken; if you purposely delay your fellows so they miss class, you will regret it.  We will not be amused by your games if they interfere with someone’s education.  Do not test us on this.

“Third, and perhaps most important, left-hand magic is utterly banned at this school.  If you - if any of you - are caught experimenting with left-hand magic, you will be expelled and handed over to Magus Court for judgement.  There is a very good chance, if you are proven to have used such magic, that you will be executed.  There will be no further warnings.”

I swallowed.  I’d heard of left-hand magic, but I knew very little about it.  None of the books I’d read, even the forbidden tomes, had talked about it.  Dad had flatly refused to talk about it, when I’d asked him.  Clearly, there was something sinister about left-hand magic.  But what?  If I didn't know what to avoid, how could I avoid it?

But I probably couldn't work left-hand magic either, I thought, bitterly.  The warning is pointless.

The Castellan’s words hung on the air for a long moment.  I saw several students exchanging nervous glances, trying to determine if their fellows knew more than themselves.  Alana looked nervous - I guessed she’d asked Dad too, only to walk away with a flea in her ear.  I looked at Isabella and saw she was just as puzzled as everyone else, although she was trying to hide it.  Her father hadn't told her anything about it either, I guessed.  And wasn't that interesting?

“You’ll pick up the rest over the next week,” the Castellan said, finally.  “Now ... does anyone not have a badge?”

He paused, just long enough to give someone a chance to speak up, then went on.  “Every year, students are sorted at random into the dorms.  For the next year, each of you will be sharing a dormitory with nine other students and an upperclassman who has been volunteered to serve as your Dorm Head.  These dorms are your homes for the next year - keep them clean and tidy or you’ll be living in squalor.”

His face twisted into a smile.  I didn't get the joke.

“You will not be allowed to transfer without a very good reason,” he added.  “I suggest you learn to get on with your fellows, because you don’t have a choice.  Next year, you will be sorted into a different dorm with new faces.  By the time you join the upperclassmen in fifth year, you will know every young magician of your generation.  You’ll have made friends and contacts that will last you a lifetime.”

And enemies, I thought, morbidly.

“You will spend the rest of the day unpacking, learning about your dorm and exploring the school,” the Castellan concluded.  “Lunch is served at one o’clock, dinner is served at six; classes will start tomorrow, at nine.  Your timetables are already waiting for you in your dorms.  I suggest you spend some time locating the different classrooms so you aren't late.”

He gave us a toothy smile.  “And listen to your Dorm Head,” he added.  He waved a hand towards the rear of the hall, where a dozen older students stood.  Each of them had an illusionary animal hovering over their heads.  “Good luck!”

I looked down at the badge in my hand.  A raven, a golden raven.  I shook my head, then followed the other students to the upperclassmen.   Neither Alana nor Bella seemed to be in Raven Dorm, thankfully.  Alana had picked out a golden cat, while Bella had chosen a nasty-looking shark.  I hoped that wasn't a bad omen.  The upperclassman - a girl four years older than me - peered down her nose at us, then shrugged.  She didn’t seem very interested in us.

And then Isabella strode up and stood next to me.  I glanced at her in surprise, then looked away as she waved goodbye to her brother.  She was a raven?  I looked back at her, just in time to see her pin the badge to her blazer.  She was a raven.

I felt my heart sink, even as the upperclassman counted the ten of us before turning and leading us through the door.  Sharing a dorm with my sisters would have been bad, but sharing one with my family’s rival?  The daughter of my family’s rival?  It was going to be very bad.

“Make sure you have your badges on,” the upperclassman said.  “You’ll need them to get into the dorm.”

I pinned mine on, feeling cold.  I was doomed.

Chapter Six

Raven Dorm was nicer than I had expected, to be fair.  Two large windows, charmed to keep people from peering in, allowed sunlight to stream into the room.  Eleven beds and bedside cabinets, surrounded by drapes for privacy; four showers and a bath ... the walls were bare, of course, but Mum had told us that we were expected to decorate the walls ourselves, using magic.  I just hoped no one paid close attention when I decided not to decorate my part of the dorm.  Our trunks were stacked neatly against the far wall, our names clearly visible in the light.  It would have been nice, I thought, if I’d been able to relax.  I’d expected to be hexed in the back all the way to the dorm.

The upperclassman clapped her hands together.  “All right, you lot,” she said.  She sat on the front bed.  It was larger than the others, clearly intended to show her importance.  “Gather around me, please.  There isn't much time.”

I did as I was told, taking the opportunity to study her more carefully.  She was pale, her skin so white that it was almost translucent.  Her eyes were a faint pink - I wasn't sure if that was normal or if she’d had a magical accident over the last few years - and her nose was so small that I would have believed it belonged to a toddler.  She was slight, yet she carried herself with an assurance I envied.  Alana would have envied it.  There wasn't the slightest doubt in her mind, I thought, that she was in charge.

Isabella recoiled, just for a second.  The girl next to her recoiled too.  I blinked in surprise, then looked at the upperclassman.  She was looking back at me, her eyes narrowing speculatively.  I realised my mistake a moment later.  She’d flared her magic, just enough to make it clear that she was more powerful than the ten of us put together, but I hadn't reacted to the surge.  Of course not.  I couldn't sense it.  And now she thought I was challenging her.

I groaned, inwardly.  Of all the things to happen ...

“For those of you who don’t know me,” the upperclassman said, “my name is Sandy Macpherson.  You’ve probably heard of my family, but I suggest you put everything you know out of your heads.  The only thing you need to remember is that I'm a fifth-year student who has been ... selected ... to serve as your Dorm Head for the next year.  That means you do what I say.”

Ouch, I thought.  

House Macpherson was neutral, if I recalled correctly.  Dad had certainly drilled all the major families into my head, along with our allies, enemies and rivals.  Too small to pose a significant threat to the balance of power, House Macpherson tended to stay out of Magus Court as much as possible.  Sandy ... was probably caught between two fires, with Isabella and me sharing a dorm.  Any hint of favouritism could reflect badly on her.

“Now, I have to start preparing for the upper-level exams,” Sandy continued.  “And that means I have less time to tend to you babies than I might have wished.  If you need help, you can seek me out ... but if the problem is one you could have solved by yourselves, I will make you wish you had.  I’m here to keep order, not to hold your hand, help you with your homework or give you the answers on a silver plate.  Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes,” I muttered.

Sandy’s eyes swept the room.  “Basic rules first, then,” she said.  “Each of you has a bed, which you can choose after I finish speaking.  You are expected to make the bed every morning before class and change the sheets every weekend - that’s pillows, duvet and mattress cover.  Each of you will also spend at least one day each term cleaning the toilets and dorm floor.  If you can't do your duty, I’ll show you how; if you won’t do your duty, I’ll stand over you until you do.

“I imagine most of you have brought cake or chocolate from home.  If you want to eat it in the dorm, clean up the mess afterwards.  The same goes for anything you buy from the tuck shop or sneak out of the kitchens for a midnight feast.  I will be most displeased if you make a mess and refuse to clean it up.”

Isabella coughed.  “No servants?”

Sandy sneered at her.  “No,” she said.  “You are expected to pick up after yourselves for the first time in your lives.”

I flushed, suddenly understanding why Mum had insisted we make our own beds over the last month.  She’d known what was coming and had worked to prepare us for it.  But I’d never mastered the cleaning spells I’d need to do the bathrooms.  How could I?

“Lights Out is at nine o’clock, every evening,” Sandy continued, snapping out point after point.  Her voice was growing sharper.  “You will not be able to get an excuse note from your teachers, so don’t bother to try.  You should all be in the dorm by then, tucked up in bed.  Do not try to read under the covers, because you need your sleep.  If you are caught outside the dorm after that, expect to suffer for making me look bad.  Rest assured that I will take any black mark I get on my record out on you.

“If you have any disputes or disagreements, I expect you to handle them carefully - and without getting the staff involved.  Don’t go sneaking to the staff unless you want to become Miss Unpopular.  Talk, argue ... if you want to fight, you can clear a space and have at each other.  I will be most displeased if you cause any damage to the school or any innocent bystanders.”

She paused.  “Not that there are any innocent bystanders in this school.”

It was a joke, I thought.  But I didn’t find it very funny.

Sandy didn't smile.  “You are not to damage each other’s property,” she rattled off.  “If you do, the cost of replacing it will be taken from your pocket money or billed to your parents, if you don’t have enough money in your account.  You are not allowed to invite any boys into the dorm.  I don’t care who they are or what they want - they’re not allowed to enter.  You can invite other girls into the dorm, provided they are quiet and don’t disturb anyone.  If they do, I will ban them from entering and key the wards to reject them.  Do you have any questions?”

There were none.  Somehow, I wasn't surprised.

“Very good,” Sandy said.  She pointed to the nearest bed.  “You’ll each find a large packet on your beds.  They’re all the same, so don’t waste time trying to choose.  Inside, you’ll find two notebooks and your timetables.  You--” she jabbed a finger at a girl I didn't know “--take one of those packets and open it.”

The girl hesitated, then did as she was told.  Two black notebooks fell out.

“Keep the timetable, for the moment,” Sandy ordered.  She held up the first notebook.  “This is your spellbook.  Make sure you write your name on the cover.  Every time you master a spell - not learn it, master it - you write it down in the book.  They’ll be inspected at the end of each month, so be careful.  Improper spell notation will get you detention.  Do not play games with this because the charms magisters will not be amused.”

I nodded.  Dad had drilled that into me too, although he’d grown more and more reluctant to continue as my lack of magic became apparent.  A mistake could cause the spell to fail - or go spectacularly wrong.  There were horror stories about that too.  

“The second book,” Sandy added, “is your punishment book.  Carry it with you at all times - you’ll be given detention if you’re caught without it.  Every time you get a punishment or a detention, it will be written into these pages.  Should I give you lines to write, you will write them in the book; should you be given detention by a teacher, the time and place will also be written here.  Most detentions are served on Saturday or Sunday, but there are exceptions.  Try not to be one.”

She smiled, rather unpleasantly.  “Yes, I can make you write lines until your fingers start to cramp,” she warned.  “And so can any other upperclassman.  So behave.”

There was a long, awkward pause.  “You’ll pick up the rest as you go along,” Sandy finished, snidely.  “Until then ... any questions?”

A redheaded girl held up a hand.  “When do we write to our parents?”

“Whenever we want,” Sandy said.  She gave the girl an oddly reassuring smile.  I wondered if she was trying to be nice.  “Official letter-writing day is Sunday and you are all expected to write a letter, but you can write additional letters whenever you want.  Bear in mind the postal service outside the city isn't good.  It may be weeks before your letter reaches home.”

Another girl leaned forward.  “Where do we collect our pocket money?”

“From the office, after lunch,” Sandy said.  She snorted.  “And I suggest, if you brought more money in your trunk, that you don't show it off.”

She glanced from face to face.  “Pick a bed, get unpacked, then I suggest you spend the rest of the day exploring the school and meeting new friends,” she said.  She rose.  “Don’t be late for lunch or dinner - you’ll regret it.  And don’t bother me unless it’s urgent.”

I watched her go, then tried to choose a bed.  Most of the girls hurried towards the rear of the room, trying to stay as far from Sandy’s bed as possible.  I didn't blame them.  Part of me was tempted to stay close to Sandy, but I doubted she’d be any help if I got into a fight.  The school didn't encourage the upperclassmen to police the lowerclassmen that thoroughly.  I picked a bed, then sat down on it and opened the packet.  Two notebooks and a timetable fell into my hand.  I took a pen from my pocket and scribbled my name on the cover - both covers - and then unfolded the timetable.  It was surprisingly detailed, accounting for every hour of the day between nine in the morning and four in the afternoon.  There would be barely any time to myself.

Not that it matters, I thought.  I never had much time to myself anyway.

“I think they should allow us to bring our pets,” Isabella said, loudly.  She was talking to two twin girls I vaguely recognised.  “My cat wouldn't have caused any trouble.

“Nor would my snake,” one of the girls said.  “But not everyone has a pet.”

“They could all have pets,” Isabella insisted.  “They could give us all pets!”

I sighed, inwardly, as I placed the girls.  Ayesha and Zeya McDonald.  House McDonald was another neutral family, but they were considerably more powerful than House Macpherson.  I didn't blame Isabella for trying to make friends with their daughters.  Even if their family remained neutral, friendship might tip them towards aiding Isabella and her family.  Behind them, Amber Alidade and Clarian Bolingbroke were having an argument over some long-standing dispute that dated back to their grandparents’ grandparents.  I silently rooted for Amber as I readied myself to duck, if the hexes started flying.  Clarian was a distant relative on my mother’s side, but she’d turned me into a pig three years ago and laughed when I complained.

Shaking my head, I hurried to the wall to pick up my trunk and drag it back to the bed.  Mum had packed some cake, wrapping it in protective spells ... I think she meant to give me incentive to learn how to cancel the spells.  Henry’s finest chocolate cake would remain perfectly preserved, until I brought it out of stasis.  But I couldn't even begin to crack the spells.  I put the cake aside, then silently unpacked my clothes and books, using a crayon to draw out a handful of protective runes of questionable value.  They might buy me some time, but I doubted they’d slow down a magician for very long.  They just didn’t have enough time to charge.  The only advantage to going to Jude’s, as far as I could tell, was that Mum wouldn't be making remarks about unsuitable choices of reading material.  

There was a flash of light.  I ducked, instinctively, as I glanced towards Amber.  Clarian was gone ... it took me a moment to notice the snail on her bed.  Amber giggled, then turned away.  Clarian would be alright, of course.  The spell wouldn't last very long.  No one, not even Great Aunt Stregheria, could make such a spell last indefinitely without careful preparation.  But she would be embarrassed and humiliated and ...

The redheaded girl - I didn't recognise her - looked nervous.  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes at her.  What did she have to worry about?  She probably knew a dozen defensive spells ... Alana, for all of her faults, had mastered over thirty by the time she turned nine.  There were adults who hadn't learned so many.  She flushed when she saw me looking at her and turned away.  I wasn't sure what that meant.  Maybe she’d heard my name mentioned somewhere and thought I was just as good as my sister.  Or maybe ...

I felt a prickling and looked up.  Isabella was staring at me, her blue eyes boring into my brown ones.  I lifted my head and stared back at her, refusing to back down.  It was stupid, perhaps, but I knew from bitter experience that showing weakness to a bully was a dreadful mistake.  She was more powerful than me - that could not be disputed - but that didn't mean I was powerless.

She stared at me for a long moment.  I could see her lips twitching, as if she was readying herself to cast a spell.  I readied myself too ... if I jumped down, I should be able to get out of the line of fire.  And then ... a loud croaking from Amber caught our attention, breaking the trance.  Clarian had recovered from Amber’s spell and hexed her in the back, while she wasn't looking.  I allowed myself a moment of relief as I picked up the timetable and both notebooks and stuffed them into my pocket, before heading out the door.  Isabella was a problem I couldn't solve, yet.  My time would be better spent exploring the school.

I was glad I had, by the end of the day.  The building might have looked odd from the outside, but it was a positive nightmare on the inside.  Corridors seemed to run in all directions, classrooms were scattered about madly with little rhyme or reason ... it took me hours to get a rough impression of how the school was actually organised.  I was nearly late for dinner because I got lost twice.  Walking through Jude’s was like walking through the Family Labyrinth, only with the added risk of magical traps or being hexed in the back - or getting lost completely.  By the time we were gently reminded to head back to the dorm, I was tired and worn.

At least Alana and Bella seem to be enjoying themselves, I thought, sourly.  They’d both been sitting at different tables during dinner, chatting to small crowds of adoring fans.  Neither of them had bothered to pay any attention to me.  They’ll have a happy time here.

“Lights Out in fifty minutes,” Sandy said, warningly.  Her voice was quiet, but it caught our attention.  I thought she was definitely using a spell.  “If you haven't showered, go shower now.”

I wasn't the only one to look unhappy as we hurried to wash, get into our nightclothes and then get into bed.  But there was no choice.  Sandy moved up and down the dorm, barking orders and encouragement to anyone who wasn't moving fast enough to suit her.  I pulled the drapes closed, hoping I’d be left in peace, then climbed into bed.  My bed felt surprisingly comfortable, but I couldn't help feeling vulnerable.  The other students would have cast protective spells - and traps - on their possessions ... I couldn't, of course.  None of the protective amulets I could have forged would have been that effective, not against real sorcerers.  Or even sorcerers in training.

The lights went out five minutes later.  There was a faint light surrounding the bathroom door, but otherwise the dorm fell into utter darkness.  Silence fell too, broken only by a stifled sob.  It was quiet, but it sounded very loud in the quiet room.

Sandy spoke a second later.  “What was that?”

“I miss my mother,” a plaintive voice said.  I couldn't place it, but whatever she said next was lost in giggles.  Everyone was laughing at her, everyone but me.  I missed my mother too.  “I ...”

“Be quiet,” Sandy snapped.  I heard her mutter an incantation, just loudly enough for me to hear.  A silencing spell, I thought.  Whoever was sobbing could no longer be heard.  I hoped that meant she’d merely been silenced, instead of being frozen in place or thrown into an uncomfortable sleep.  “You’ll all be kicked out of bed at eight thirty, if you’re not up by then so ... get some sleep.”

I closed my eyes, but it was hard to relax.  People were breathing, someone was going to the bathroom ... I had never shared a room with anyone, not since I was weaned.  The near-complete darkness only made it worse.  Anything  - or anyone - could be lurking out there, coming towards me.  It was easy to imagine Isabella sneaking towards me, warily watching for traps that weren't there ...

Somehow, I slept.  I still don't know how.

Chapter Seven

When I awoke, I was still human.

I’d half-expected to wake up a frog or a toad - or worse.  Turning someone into a slug or a snail was technically frowned upon - Alana had been grounded for a month after she’d done that to Bella - but Sandy hadn't punished Amber for doing it to Clarian.  I really didn't like the implications of that, not at all.  But no one had bothered to push back the drapes and hex me in my sleep.  I was torn between relief and suspicion.  What else did they have in mind?

“Wake up,” Sandy called.  She’d woken me, I realised dully.  “Anyone not down for breakfast will regret it.”

There was a loud bang as she walked through the door, leaving us alone.  I sighed, thinking words I had never dared say out loud.  Sandy had made it clear that she resented having to take care of us - and really, I didn't blame her.  Isabella and I alone were a political nightmare, even without counting some of the other girls.  I pushed the thought aside as I swung my legs off the bed and stood up.  A glance at the clock told me that it was half past seven.  We had an hour and a half until classes were due to begin.

I knew I should go to breakfast, that I would get in trouble for missing breakfast, but I didn't feel like eating.  What would be the point?  But Sandy would make me write lines if I didn't go ... I sighed out loud, then bent down to open the drawer under my bed.  The moment I touched the wood, there was a brilliant flare of light.  I tried to jump back, too late.  My limbs locked up.  I couldn't move a muscle.  I was trapped in this embarrassing and helpless position.

Someone opened the drape, but I still couldn't move.  “You were right,” Isabella’s voice said.  I could hear her, right behind me.  “She did fall for it.”

I would have cringed, if I could have moved.  The trap spell she’d used, I was sure, was one of the easiest to cast ... and avoid, if one had the slightest sensitivity to magic.  Alana or Bella would have sensed the spell a long time before they touched it.  They certainly wouldn't have had any trouble removing it - or escaping, if they accidentally triggered the spell.  Me?  I was stuck until the spell wore off.  And if Isabella had overpowered the cantrip, which was possible, I might wind up being late for class.

“She could free herself, in a second, if she wanted,” Isabella added, snidely.  She was right.  A simple cantrip, one every magician learned in her first lessons, would free me.  But I couldn't cast it.  “She’s trapped.”

“You can’t leave her there forever,” another voice said.  I thought it was Ayesha McDonald, but I wasn't certain.  Ayesha and her twin sounded very alike.  “You’ll get the blame, even if she doesn't tattle.”

“The banshee will free her,” Isabella said, dispassionately.  It took me a moment to realise she meant Sandy.  I felt someone poking my back, sharply.  I could do nothing, but burn with helpless rage.  “She’ll have time to get dressed and snatch some toast before class.”

I heard her footsteps as she walked away, pulling the drapes closed behind her.  Someone giggled ... were they laughing at me?  I felt a surge of pure hatred, mixed with bitter helplessness as I heard the dorm emptying.   If my rage had powered my magic, the entire school would have been reduced to rubble.  But nothing happened.  I just stood there, utterly unable to move.

Centre, I told myself.  It was the most basic exercise, one taught to every child born to a magical family.  Reach out and touch the magic.

I tried.  I really tried.  But nothing happened.  The spell remained firmly in place, holding me utterly frozen.  I couldn't help wondering if she’d turned me into stone, although my body still felt human.  An odd calm fell over me as I waited.  Dad had been wrong.  Exposure to so much magic would not free power I didn't have.  And it was only a matter of time until I was killed ...

The spell broke.  I fell forward, barely managing to throw out an arm before I cracked my skull into the bedside.  My entire body twitched violently ... I forced myself to stand, running through a series of exercises to get the blood flowing.  Cramping up on my first day would be a miserable experience.  My body ached as I opened the drawer and removed my clothes, then dressed hastily.  It was eight-twenty and I really didn't want to be caught missing breakfast.  I’d been frozen for far too long.

I heard the croaking as soon as I pushed the drapes aside.  It was a plaintive sound, coming from the redhead’s bed.  Her drapes lay open, just wide enough for someone to peer inside.  I would have known something was wrong, even without the noise.  All the other drapes were closed and probably booby-trapped.  I slipped forward, wondering if I was about to be hexed again and peered through the drapes.  A frog was sitting on the bed, croaking noisily.  It’s big eyes - her big eyes, I realised dully - looked rather more hopeful when they saw me.

And yet, there was something wrong.  She wasn't making any of the signs Dad had drilled into us when we’d started our lessons, the signs everyone knew to indicate that they were transformed humans, rather than real animals.  I’d learned them religiously, just like everyone else in Shallot.  The city has more magicians than anywhere else in Tintagel and a good third of them think that zapping passers-by into small animals is the height of humour.  No one wants to be mistaken for a real animal and wind up in the stew pot.  And yet, she wasn't making any of those signs.

I tried to remember her name, but I drew a blank.

“Sit still,” I said, knowing it wouldn't be easy.  I’d been a frog often enough to know their bodies liked to jump around.  “You’re ... you’re her, aren't you?”

The frog nodded.  It was more of a bow, really, but I got the idea.  And yet, I wasn't sure what I could do.  I couldn't free her from the spell, any more than I could free myself.  Why hadn’t she freed herself?  Surely, any magical family worthy of the name would have taught its daughters basic cantrips.  They certainly should have taught her how to draw attention to herself.  One of the reasons turning someone into a snail is frowned upon is because it’s much harder to signal if you can barely move.  

I sat down next to her, chancing the hexes she should have used to defend her bed.  “I want you to focus,” I said.  “Close your eyes and clear your mind.”

The frog closed her eyes.  I hoped that she had managed to clear her mind, although being trapped in an animal body isn't conductive to meditation.  But there wasn't any alternative, unless we waited for Sandy.  Isabella was right about one thing, at least.  I was no tattletale.

“Remember what it felt like to be human,” I said.  The frog quivered.  That too was odd.  Had she never been transfigured before?  “Concentrate on that feeling.  Focus on it.  Grip that feeling in your mind, then focus on it.”

Dad had said the same, back when we’d been trying to duplicate my escape from Great Aunt Stregheria’s spell.  His words had mocked me.  No matter how hard I tried, I had never managed to repeat it.  But she should be able to escape, surely.  She wouldn't be here if she didn't have magic ...

Why not?  My thoughts mocked.  You don’t have magic.

I told that part of me to shut up.  “Focus,” I said.  “Remember what it’s like to breathe, to walk, to reach out ...”

There was a brilliant flash of light.  I leaned backwards as the redheaded girl appeared in front of me, her face pale and wan.  She was sweating so badly that I couldn't help wondering if something had been wrong with the spell.  Being caught by surprise and transfigured was embarrassing, sure, but hardly life-threatening.  It wasn't as if she couldn't have broken the spell ...

... Except she hadn’t broken the spell until I’d helped her.

“Thank you,” she gasped.  “I ... I thought I was stuck that way forever.”

“It wouldn't have lasted,” I assured her.  I had no idea who’d cast the spell, but it really wouldn't have remained in place indefinitely.  “Spells like that tend to wear off very quickly.”

The girl looked at me.  “I didn't know ... it was my first time ...”

I blinked.  “Really?”

“Yes,” the girl said.

I didn't believe her.  Alana had turned Bella and me into dolls when all three of us had been eight.  Dad had been both proud and furious.  Since then, I’d been all sorts of objects and animals, both so I could learn how to cope with a transfigured body and to try to unlock my magic.  I didn't know a single magical child from the Great Houses who hadn't been transfigured, repeatedly.  It was part of our training.  

And then it struck me.  “You’re common-born?”

“Yes,” the girl said.  “I’m Rose of Erehwon.”

Her eyes looked fearful.  “Is that a problem?”

I stared back at her.  Rose of Erehwon ... she didn't have a family name, of course.  She wasn't just a commoner, she was a peasant.  Her family would have been peasants ever since the empire vanished and the kingdom rose in its place.  They’d know a few spells, of course, but a real talent for magic ...?  Rose had been incredibly lucky that someone had noticed she did have a talent, that she could work magic on a far greater level than the rest of her family ...

... With the proper training, of course.

My hands clenched into fists.  I felt my nails digging into my bare skin.  Rose was a commoner, from a low-magic background ... and yet the fates had seen fit to give her the gift they’d denied me.  No one would have noticed if she’d lacked magic, no one would have cared ... she would have grown up in the countryside, married someone from the next village and had children, her life utterly unremarkable ... while I, child of magic, was doomed to be a cripple.  The entire city would laugh when the rumours finally grew too powerful to be ignored.  My father would lose his post, my mother’s papers would be ignored, Alana and Bella would have trouble finding husbands ...

... And Rose, sitting next to me, could just reach out and claim my birthright.

I felt a surge of sheer jealously, so powerful that it almost consumed me.  I wanted to hit her, I wanted to hurt her ... how dare she?  And yet, I knew it wasn't her fault.  She hadn't stolen my power, had she?  My thoughts were a bitter muddle.  I wanted to throw back my head and scream, cursing the fates with every last word I knew, but wasn't allowed to say.  Rose, a girl so ignorant she didn't even know how to signal for help, was my superior.  She had power she didn't even know how to use.

Rose reached out.  I flinched back automatically, half-expecting a hex.  She’d take it out on me, of course.  She had the power, while I had none.  Of course she would.  Magicians, trained magicians, have always believed themselves to be superior, even though it’s more a matter of raw determination and training rather than innate ability.  She could relieve her feelings by turning me into a toad or freezing me or compelling me or ...

I stood, turned my back and stalked away.  She called out to me, but I didn't hear a word.  I was just too angry to care what she said or what she did.  My dad would be delighted to meet her, I was sure.  Common-born mages made the best apprentices because they had no other ties to the Great Families or Magus Court.  Rose, born in a pigsty, had a brighter future than me.  The surge of bitter jealously was almost overpowering.  Mum had told us, more than once, that anger and hatred led to dark magic and utter madness.  Alana had asked her if we weren't already black magicians and wound up cleaning the kitchens by herself, with a toothbrush ...

“Well,” a quiet voice said.  “Whatever is the matter?”

I looked up.  A pair of older girls, both sixth-years, were standing in front of me.  One of them was eying me with barely-restrained contempt, while the other seemed more amused at my plight.  I forced myself to calm down, despite the powerful urge to shout and scream at them.

“I asked you a question,” the first girl snapped.  She held out a hand.  “Punishment book!”

I stared mutinously at her.  My first day was shaping into an utter disaster ... and I hadn't even had my first class!  Sandy had said she - and the other upperclassmen - could sentence us to write lines ... would they expel me if I refused to do them?  Or if I tried to run ... I dismissed the thought a second later.  They’d just freeze me in place, then hand me over to one of the teachers.  Or Sandy.  I wasn't sure who I feared more.

The second girl placed a hand on her arm.  “She’s a firstie,” she said, gently.  “And it’s the first day of school.”

“Hah,” the first girl said.

But she stalked past me without saying another word.  The second girl shot me a wink, then hurried past me too.  I scowled as I hurried down to the dining hall, feeling my stomach finally start to rumble.  If I was lucky, I’d be able to eat something before I had to go to my first class.  I really wasn't looking forward to it.

Isabella shot me a nasty look, mixed with surprise, as I stepped into the dining room and made a beeline towards the food.  The cooks had piled up plates with everything from fruit and toast to egg, bacon, sausage and tomato.  I winked at her - Sandy was still sitting with the other upperclassmen, so it was clear she hadn't freed me - and filled my plate.  Mum would probably not have approved of just how much egg and bacon I’d loaded onto my plate, but I was hungry.  And I needed the food to think.

Rose entered a moment later, looking downcast.  I tried to ignore her - and the guilt gnawing at my heart.  It wasn't her fault she had power and talent and I had none.  But I didn't want to sit with her or anyone.  I just wanted to be alone.

As I ate, I unfolded my timetable and read it again, more carefully.  Charms - practical and theoretical.  I might be able to do well on theory, but I didn't have a hope of actually making a charm work.  And then Protective and Defensive Magic, after lunch.  I doubted I’d do well at that either.  The only prospect for some relief was Magical Growth, a course that hadn't been covered by my parents.  I rather suspected it was intended to help bring out my magic.

A hand fell on my shoulder.  I jumped.

“I hear you had some trouble this morning,” Alana whispered, as I turned.  She looked far too bright and cheerful for someone who’d woken up at a truly uncivilised hour.  “Who helped you to get out of it?”

“No one,” I said.  

Alana beamed.  Someone who didn't know her very well would have missed the malice behind the smile.  “I told everyone you were a great magician,” she said.  “Thank you for proving me right.”

I stared at her in stark disbelief.  She’d found a way to circumvent the binding, all right - and in a manner I’d never expected.  She hadn't told her dorm mates that I couldn't do magic, she’d told them I was great at magic!  Of course someone had told Isabella.  Chances were there was someone friendly to House Rubén in Cat Dorm.  And then Isabella - of course - had decided to test me.  Maybe she’d been surprised when I’d freed myself, but it hardly proved great magic.  Anyone with a tiny spark could escape that spell.

“You utter ...”

I ran out of words.  There was literally nothing in my vocabulary that suited Alana, not at that moment.  Even the words I’d learnt from apprentices who’d splashed molten liquid on themselves didn't seem to fit.  Alana ... had set me up for utter disaster.  It wouldn't take long for Isabella to realise that I wasn't a great magician at all.

Alana winked at me.  “Well put,” she said.  She held up a timetable.  I barely had a chance to glance at it before she yanked it away and refolded it.  “And it seems we’re sharing two classes today.  Embarrass me and you’ll regret it.”

She skipped away, whistling.  I gave her the finger, then turned back to my breakfast.  It was cold, but I found it hard to care.  All of a sudden, I didn't feel like eating.  I cursed her under my breath as I tossed the remainder into the bin, then headed to the door.  There were just over ten minutes before I had to be in class.

Rose waved to me as I passed, but I pretended not to see.  I just couldn't bear the thought of talking to her, not any longer.

It wasn't her.  It was me.

Chapter Eight

The doors to the classroom were locked and warded when we arrived, so we formed an orderly queue and waited.  I was glad to lean against the wall as Isabella and Alana glared at each other, neither one seemingly willing to cast the first spell.  Given how both of them had formed a posse of other students, getting into a fight and losing would be disastrous.  It was far too early for their reputations to survive taking a beating.  The boys seemed to be organising themselves too, although it seemed a little more physical.  There was much pushing and shoving, which quieted remarkably quickly as the magisters walked up and opened the door.

“Take a seat,” one ordered.  “And be quiet.”

The other strode past him into the classroom.  I followed the rest of the students, looking around with interest.  The walls were lined with geometric charts and equation tables, each one referring to a different branch of magic.  I knew some of them from Dad’s lessons, but others were new.  Deciphering the easier ones would take weeks, I suspected.  I took a seat near the front of the class and waited.  Rose sat next to me a moment later, her face pale.  I did my best to ignore her.

She’s trying to be your friend, a voice whispered at the back of my mind.  Why not talk to her?

I shook my head.  People had tried to be my friend before, until they’d discovered I had little or no magical ability.  They certainly hadn't tried to befriend me after they’d realised I wasn't going to inherit.  Alana would be popular for the rest of her life, simply because she could bestow largesse at will.  What did I have to offer?  Rose would try to be my friend until she learned the truth, then she’d reject me.  And how could I blame her?  Befriending me would simply paint a target on her back.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself, I told myself, sternly.  And sit up.

The two professors stood at the front of the class, studying us.  I studied them back, trying to place them.  One was tall, his yellowish skin and dark almond eyes suggesting that he had travelled from far-off Cathay, although it was rather more likely that he was the son or grandson of a trading family who’d settled in Shallot.  His companion was short, with pale skin and a bald dome lined with curly black hair.  He wore three pairs of spectacles, one balanced on his nose and two more placed on his oversized head.  I couldn't tell if his skull was an illusion, a trick of the light or the result of a magical accident.  Someone might have tried to enhance his brainpower by making his skull larger, but it didn’t strike me as very safe.  Only a complete idiot would try to cast such spells on himself.  

The tall professor stepped forward.  “Greetings,” he said.  He waved a hand at the door, which closed with a loud bang.  “The door will be locked five minutes into the lesson and will remain locked until the end.  Anyone who gets here after the door is locked will be marked absent and will have detention, a very unpleasant detention.  There will be no further warnings.”

He gave us a tight smile, then produced a sheet of paper.  “Alana Aguirre ...?”

I forced myself to relax as he ran through the register, making a couple of sharp notes on the paper when two boys were found to be absent.  Several glanced at me - including Akin - when they heard my name, clearly wondering if I too was a power.  I rather doubted they were impressed with what they saw.  I sat alone, save for Rose.  And it wouldn't take them long to work out that she was common-born.  None of them would have seen her before now.

“Right,” the professor said, when he’d finished the register.  “I am Magister Grayson, Practical Charms.  This” - he nodded to his colleague - “is Magister Von Rupert, Theoretical Charms.  You may have heard of us.”

I felt my eyebrows rise.  The Grayson-Von Rupert partnership was famous.  They’d unlocked nearly a hundred spells from the old spellbooks, rewriting the equations until just about anyone could use them without some of the more exotic incantations.  Their books were on the reading list of everyone who aspired to sorcery.  And they were going to teach us? I sat upright, sensing the rest of the class doing the same.  This was going to be a great class ...

... Or it would be, if I didn't need magic.

Von Rupert stepped forward.  “Welcome,” he said.  His voice was soft, almost impossible to hear.  “How many of you have cast Anna’s Amphibian?”

I glanced around the classroom.  Nearly every arm was raised.  Mine wasn't, of course.  Nor was Rose’s.  A pale-faced boy in the rear looked torn between claiming to have cast it or not, his hand hovering in the air.  I couldn't place the face, suggesting he was another common-born student.  Chances were he hadn't been having an easy time of it in the dorms either.

“Of course you ... ah ... have,” Von Rupert said.  “It is one of the simplest spells, used to turn someone into a frog.  Ah ... it is practically traditional to turn people into frogs.  But ... ah ... all it is good for is turning people into frogs.  Why is that the case?”

Rose nudged me.  “Why frogs?”

I opened my mouth to answer, then thought better of it.  The common or garden frog is the most useful animal, as far as potions are concerned.  There isn't a part of it that can't be used for something.  Mum bred frogs in the garden because she needed a new one for her potions every week or so.  But I didn't think that Rose would find that very reassuring, not after Isabella had turned her into a frog.  It would be kinder not to tell her.

Grayson eyed her, sharply.  “Why is that the case?”

Rose coloured.  “I ...”

I felt the back of my neck heat as I heard titters from behind me.  The answer was obvious, of course, but Rose wouldn't know it.  She hadn't had time to go through all the basic spellbooks, let alone the more advanced - or forbidden - tomes in the family library.  I didn't think she was stupid, but she lacked knowledge.  And I felt a stab of sudden, intense pity.

“The spell is tightly focused on the frog transformation,” I said, quickly.  Dad had drilled that into me, along with plenty of other useless pieces of knowledge.  Useless to me, if not anyone else.  “It cannot be modified, for example, to turn someone into a cat instead.”

“Correct,” Von Rupert said.  His voice sounded a little steadier.  “Ah ...  the spell is so tightly woven that it cannot be modified.  A magician who wants to do something different would be better off writing their own spell or adapting a pre-existing one.  Those of you who want to truly ... ah ... master magic must learn how to adapt spells, then write your own.  A finely-tuned spell you crafted yourself will be far more flexible than any you might find in a spellbook.”

Rose shot me a grateful look.  I shrugged back at her.  She’d need to read her textbooks from cover to cover, as quickly as possible.  Could she even read?  Everyone in Shallot could read, I thought, but what about commoners from outside the city?  If she couldn’t read, how was she expected to study the textbooks?  Of course she could read.

“The first half of this class will concentrate on working out theoretical spells,” Grayson informed us, as he dumped a pile of papers on the first desk.  The boy sitting there took one and passed the others on.  “The second half will attempt to put theory into practice.  We will be most displeased if any of you attempt to cast a basic spell, instead of your own work.  And we will notice.”

I glanced down at my paper.  It was a complex set of equations, only comprehensible because Mum and Dad had spent years training me - and my sisters - to read them.  Beside me, Rose let out a tiny gasp.  The notation had to be completely incomprehensible to her.  I didn't think she could tell the difference between hand-waving directions, finger-motions and chants, let alone runes and sigils carved into metal or stone.  Not that it mattered, I suspected.  She probably had enough raw power to compensate for any early problems.  

“There is a mistake somewhere within these equations,” Grayson said.  “Find it.”

There was a groan, somewhere from behind me.  I liked to think that Isabella found the exercise daunting, although I doubted it.  She would have been drilled as intensely as any of us, with the added advantage of having a brother who was equally schooled in magic.  Maybe it was one of the other girls.  It had definitely sounded feminine.  

I pushed the thought aside as I worked my way through the equations.  It looked crude to my eyes, yet it should have been effective.  And yet ... Dad would have laughed at us, if we’d tried to present him with such a spell.  It was utterly inefficient, wasting magic on a terrifying scale.  Beside me, Rose looked utterly stumped.  She didn't even know where to begin.

Think, I told myself.  What is the spell intended to do?

It took me nearly twenty minutes to parse out the equations and realise what - precisely - was wrong.  The professors had overdone it, working three or four spells into one.  If someone managed to cast it - and I didn't think Alana could have cast it - the result would have been hugely amplified.  A simple cantrip designed to lift a stone into the air would have sent it cracking into the ceiling instead.  I looked up, wondering just how many times the ceiling had been damaged.  But then, there would be protections in place ...

... Wouldn't there? 

Von Rupert cleared his throat.  “Ah ... are you all finished?”

There was a rumble of agreement.  Rose looked terrified.

“Very good,” Grayson said.  He pointed a finger at Akin.  “What was wrong with the spell?”

Isabella’s brother sounded confident, at least.  “There are actually five spells,” he said, calmly.  I blinked.  Five spells?  “Only one of them is strictly necessary.  The remainder should be removed to save magic.”

“Ah ... interesting,” Von Rupert said.  “Ah ... would anyone like to disagree?”

There was a long pause.  I looked down at my paper.  I couldn't see a fifth spell.  Had I missed something or ... had he separated one of the spells I’d found into two?  I ran through it quickly, silently testing the concept in my head.  If I was right, Akin had made a serious mistake.  But did I dare comment on it?  I already had far too many enemies ...

I held up my hand.  “Ah, you,” Von Rupert said, pointing at me.  “You disagree?”

“Yes,” I said.  All of a sudden, this seemed a very bad idea.  I could feel my sister’s gaze boring into my back.  “There are two spells designed to lift something, one of which is too big to be efficient, and two spells designed to impart speed.  You only really need one of each - and with a little effort, you can meld them together.”

Von Rupert gave me an approving smile.  “Very good,” he said.  I couldn't help feeling a flicker of pride.  Praise from Von Rupert was worth more, far more, than praise from my parents.  “Ah ... more advanced spells are melds of incants, woven together into a whole.  Separating them too far can weaken the combined effect.”

Grayson took a step forward.  “Many of you will think that we are going back to the basics here,” he said.  “And you will be right.  You have to master the early steps before you can start writing your own spells.  If you don’t understand what you’re doing, you can cause all sorts of problems.  A simple misstep can lead to disaster.”

He smiled, rather thinly.  “And now, rewrite the spell we gave you,” he added.  “But do not try to cast it until we have checked it.”

I bent my head over the paper as my mood soured.  I could rewrite the spell until I was blue in the face, but it wouldn't matter.  I couldn't even begin to cast it.  They might give me high marks for theoretical work, yet I couldn't graduate without proving I could actually cast my own spells.  Von Rupert’s praise was meaningless.  I couldn't even study magic without magic of my own.  

Rose nudged me.  “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.  “Help!”

“You’re going to have to spend months studying the equations,” I muttered back.  Rose hadn't even touched her paper.  “I can show you books, if you want.”

“Please,” Rose said.  “Where do I even start?”

I shrugged as I started to work on my paper.  “You don't need half of this,” I said.  I was fairly sure the spell was intended to lift something up into the air.  There certainly didn't seem to be any other purpose, as far as I could tell.  “Cut it out, then meld this section into that section ...”

Rose shook her head.  “I’m never going to get this right.”

“You will,” I muttered, sourly.  “The more you use magic, the easier it will be to understand.”

It felt like years before Grayson started to make his way around the room, reading papers and offering everything from approval to caustic comments.  I couldn't help feeling a flicker of dark amusement as he berated Gayle Fitzwilliam for creating a spell that would send her flying into the ceiling, then despondency as he praised Isabella and Akin for their work.  One by one, chairs and desks started floating into the air as the approved spells were cast.  Gayle looked utterly thunderous when I glanced at her, her cheeks burning with shame.  She was an only child, if I recalled correctly.  Her family expected great things from her.

“Use mine, when the time comes to cast a spell,” I muttered to Rose.  She gave me a surprised look.  “Yours is a mess.”

She opened her mouth, either to argue or to thank me, but my chair shook before she could say a word.  I drifted up into the air, held by an invisible force ... I glanced back to see Alana smirking at me, her finger pointed at the chair.  She could drop me from a great height ... I gritted my teeth, refusing to let fear or panic overcome me.  The chair wobbled a second later, threatening to tip over ...

“Not bad, but your sister is a little too heavy for the spell,” Grayson said.  I found myself lowered back to the ground.  “You need extra power if you want to levitate her safely.”

“Thank you, sir,” Alana said.

Grayson picked up my paper and studied it, then nodded curtly.  “Cast the spell.”

I lifted my hand and went through the motions, chanting the words one by one.  Nothing happened, of course.  Grayson lifted his eyebrows, then rechecked the paper.  It should have worked.  He wouldn't have let me try it if it shouldn't have worked.  And yet ...

“Try again,” he ordered.

Nothing happened, again.  Grayson frowned, then moved onto Rose.  I wanted to cover my ears as he told her off for doing nothing, although it wasn't remotely fair.  She didn't even know where to begin.  And then there was a crash behind me.

“Detention,” Grayson said.  He strode past me, his robes billowing angrily around him.  “Go to the kitchens on Saturday and do whatever the cooks tell you to do.”

I resisted the urge to turn and look as I heard someone - a boy, I thought - spluttering behind me.  It was an awful punishment for someone who had probably never cooked or cleaned in his entire life.  But I found it hard to feel sorry for him when I’d just revealed my lack of magic to the entire class.  Some of them might believe there had been a flaw in the spell, some overriding reason why I hadn't been able to cast it, but others would suspect the truth.  

Rose glanced at me.  “Do you want me to ...?”

Von Rupert cut her off.  “Ah, homework is an essay on the twenty-nine letters of the basic runic alphabet,” he said.  “I expect you to list all of the basics, then outline their uses in geometric diagrams.”

“Do not attempt to use any of the runes or modified letters outside class,” Grayson added, firmly.  “We will know if you try and you will be punished.  Dismissed.”

I rose with the others.  Three hours ... it was lunchtime now.  And after lunch ... another chance to humiliate myself in front of my dorm mates.  No doubt Isabella was already planning revenge for how I’d embarrassed her brother.  The sooner I got my hands on some Devices, the better.  I might just be able to surprise her if I had a Device or two up my sleeve.

“Come on,” Rose said.  She seemed to have attached herself to me.  “We have to get to the hall before the food runs out.”

I shrugged.  “You need to do more reading,” I said.  “Go to the library after class.”

Rose gave me a hopeful look.  “Will you come with me?”

It was on the tip of my tongue to say no, but I reconsidered.  I’d been cruel to Rose earlier, even as I’d helped her.  Maybe I should ...

And yet she will leave, when she finds out the truth, my thoughts mocked.  And you’ll be alone again.

I told my thoughts to shut up.  I’d take whatever I could get.

Chapter Nine

The Protective and Defensive Magic classroom was smaller than I had expected, but otherwise largely identical to the Charms classroom.  Twenty-one desks and chairs, a single heavy chair at the front and a large fire, burning merrily in the fireplace.  The walls were decorated with images of people being jinxed, hexed, or cursed.  I felt my stomach heave at some of the latter, remembering my Dad’s strict instructions never to even think of using curses unless we were in real danger.  The average magician, he'd said, never needed anything more dangerous than hexes to defend himself.

A single old lady sat in the heavy chair, so frail and weak that I half-thought she was an illusion.  She looked to be in her nineties, with bushy white hair, pale skin and bright blue eyes, which flickered over us as we sat down.  She couldn't be the teacher, could she?  I’d expected Protective and Defensive Magic to be taught by a man.  But that proved nothing.  I glanced at Rose - she’d stuck with me all though lunch - and then forced myself to try to calm down and relax.  It didn’t work.  I knew this class was going to be another disaster.

The seats behind us rapidly filled.  I heard my name and, turning, saw Bella sitting at the very back.  She gave me an uncertain smile, then turned her attention back to her new friends.  I supposed I should be glad to be ignored.  Akin and Isabella followed, just as the clock started to chime.  There was no sign of Alana.  

I turned back, just in time to see the old woman rise from her chair.  She looked even more frail as she stood, her mouth shaping into a smile that revealed a number of missing or rotting teeth.  And yet, there was a strength about her that reminded me of my mother and her grandmother.  She stood without a cane, without leaning on anything ... her will was strong, even if her body was weak.  And it was willpower that drove magic.

The door banged closed.  We jumped.

“Greetings,” the old lady said.  I flinched.  Her aristocratic voice sounded a little like Great Aunt Stregheria.  “Welcome to Protective and Defensive Magic.  I am Magistra Solana.  You will have two years with me, learning the basics.  Should you survive--” she gave us a toothy grin “--you will go on to take the next two years with a different teacher.  I ...”

A bell rang loudly as the door opened.  I glanced back, just in time to see Alana and Zeya McDonald trying to sneak into the classroom.  They both looked as if they’d run for miles, which wasn't too unlikely.  The classroom was right at the far side of the school, well away from anywhere else.  I couldn't help thinking that was a little ominous.

“And why,” Solana demanded, “are you two young ladies late for class?”

Alana opened her mouth.  She looked shaken.  Solana probably reminded her of Great Aunt Stregheria too.  “I ...”

“I see the dictation of firsties hasn't improved,” Solana said.  She sneered.  Alana cowered back.  “Take a seat at the front of the class, then shut up.  Your classmates can tell you what little you missed later.”

She cleared her voice as the door banged closed, again.  “I won’t be merciful a second time,” she added, as she produced the register.  “Anyone stupid enough to be late will receive a detention.”

I resisted the urge to smirk at Alana.  Sitting so close to the teacher, there was no hope of getting away with anything.  But she’d been looking forward to this class ever since she’d read the brochure.  She knew hundreds of spells already, of course, but here ... she would have a chance to learn more.

“This is the most dangerous class in school,” Solana informed us, when she'd confirmed that everyone was present.  “And yes, this is more dangerous than forgery, potions and charms put together.  I will not stand for any tomfoolery in my classroom, unless I specifically authorise it.  If you treat this subject with anything less than the utmost seriousness, I will give you detention and then ban you from my classroom.  Those of you with a magical background may think you know everything, but that merely means you have a great deal to unlearn.”

I frowned.  Dad wouldn't have lied to us, would he?  

“The purpose of this class is to teach you how to defend yourselves and others against hostile or dark magic,” Solana continued, after a long chilling moment.  “By the time you take your exams at the end of the year, you will know how to use defensive magic and have a reasonably good grounding in the law regarding defensive magic.  Or, in simpler terms, you will learn what you can and cannot do.”

She paused.  “Not that such considerations matter,” she added.  “When you are at risk, you do everything in your power to escape and worry about the rest later.”

“Escape?” Alana muttered.  “Not fight.”

Solana whirled around to face her, moving with surprising speed for such an old lady.  “What was that?”

Alana looked downcast.  “I ... I ... I thought we would be fighting, not escaping.”

“Well, at least that’s a marginally more coherent statement than your last one,” Solana said, sardonically.  She raised her voice.  “Can anyone tell me why I’m more interested in teaching you to escape rather than to fight?”

There was a long pause.  No one answered.

“You are twelve,” Solana said.  She stepped away from Alana, her cold eyes sweeping the room.  I shivered when she looked at me.  “No one, not even I, expects you to fight.  And while you may think you can cast Anna’s Amphibian in an eyeblink, I assure you that any half-way decent sorcerer could shrug the spell off even quicker.  Casting the spell on your siblings or servants does not teach you how to fight sorcerers.  Trying to turn a sorcerer like me into a frog will just waste magic.

“If you are cornered, then fight.  But if there's a chance to escape, take it.  You do not live in a storybook world where adults are useless and kids regularly win fights against enemies twice their age.  The older the enemy, the more power they have at their disposal.  Escape, not fight.  Leave the fighting to the adults.”

I wished, suddenly, that I dared look behind me.  I wanted to know how the rest of the class felt.  Rose seemed unsure; Alana looked cowed, as long as Solana was looking in her direction.  The ancient crone had a point, I felt.  But I didn't think anyone wanted to believe her.  

Solana clapped her hands together.  “And now we’ve got that out of the way,” she said nastily, “what is dark magic?”

She pointed a finger over my head.  “Yes, you.  Boy who has his hand in the air.”

“Dark magic is magic used to hurt someone,” Akin said.  He didn't sound too annoyed at his earlier failure.  “To choose to cause harm is dark magic.”

“Almost correct,” Solana said.  “Dark magic is magic used with bad intentions.  You’ll find there is no real legal definition of the dark arts because almost any spell can be used to hurt an innocent victim.  Even a simple lifting spell can become dark if you float someone into the air and then let them fall.”

I shuddered.  I couldn't help myself.

“Your intentions shape the magic,” Solana continued.  “If you didn't want to hurt or kill someone, it doesn't count as dark magic.  If you acted in self-defence or defence of another, it doesn't count as dark magic.  You’ll find, when you come to do your homework, that there are plenty of legal arguments surrounding even the simplest of curses.  You’ll be required to argue the question time and time again over the next few years.”

She paused.  “Yes?  You have a question?”

I turned.  A boy I didn't recognise had his hand in the air.  “If I turn someone into a frog and they get squashed by a passing cart,” he said, “would I have used dark magic?”

“Not if you didn't mean for them to get killed,” Solana said, simply.  She paused.  “Do not imagine this would save you from consequences.  You would be innocent of using dark magic, not of reckless endangerment.”

She cleared her throat.  “A further danger is that the use of dark magic tends to encourage the use of more dark magic,” she added.  “Once you cross that line, once you deliberately decide to embrace the darkness, it’s very hard to save yourself.  It becomes harder and harder to think clearly - eventually, you go insane.  Even the simplest spells can send you falling into the darkness.”

Rose nudged me.  “Then why don’t they ban dark magic?”

Solana proved to have very sharp ears.  “Because they cannot forbid the use of nearly every known spell,” she said, dryly.  “A handful of spells are on the banned list, but I assure you that dark wizards don’t need to use them to start their decline.”

She smiled, rather coldly.  “I want you all to think about what you’re doing,” she warned.  “Rest assured, you will not pass this class without careful thought.”

And magic, I thought.

Solana’s smile grew wider.  “Alana,” she said.  Her voice dripped honey - and ice.  “Why don't you come forward?”

I felt a stab of unexpected sympathy as my sister rose and walked to the front of the class, her hands clasped behind her back.  She hid it well, but Alana was clearly nervous, if not terrified.  She looked as though she was going to her own execution.  Solana pointed to a space in front of her desk, then stepped backwards.  Alana held herself upright by force of will.  I was, reluctantly, impressed.

“I am sure you know how to cast Anna’s Amphibian,” Solana said.  “Cast it now.”

Alana blinked.  “On ... on you?”

“No, on the floor,” Solana said, sarcastically.  “On me.”

I tensed as Alana waved her hand.  She was an expert at casting the spell, as I knew all too well, but she messed it up the first time.  The spell splintered out of existence before it even left her hand, the light breaking up and fading back into nothingness.  Solana snorted nastily and ordered Alana to try again.  This time, there was a ball of light that flashed towards Solana ... and stopped, dead, in the air.  I stared in disbelief as the light hovered, just waiting.  I’d never seen anything like that before, not even from Dad!

“You’ll draw two lessons from this instead of one,” Solana said.  She spoke to all of us, but she never took her eyes off Alana.  “The first one is that fear - an adverse fear response - is not conductive to casting spells.  In the time it took Alana to get the spell right, I could have hexed or cursed her a dozen times over.  If you should happen to get yourselves into real trouble, as you probably will if you walk around convinced you know everything, you’ll be terrified.  Learning to work magic even when terrified is important.”

She eyed Alana unpleasantly.  “And the second lesson is this,” she added, jabbing a finger at the hovering spell.  “When used on a defenceless victim, the spell is invincible; when used on a person who knows how to counter it, the spell is pathetic.”

Not that it matters when you can't use magic, I thought.  I’d ducked such spells more than once, but that only worked when I saw them coming.  She could toss another spell at me if she wanted while I dodged the first one.

Solana put a hand forward, touching the spell.  The eldritch light flickered, then darted back to Alana.  My sister threw up her hands, too late.  The spell crashed into her and she morphed into a wooden chair.  My mouth fell open in shock.  I heard gasps from behind me.  Alana hadn't cast that spell, had she?

“Fates,” Rose muttered.

“I rewrote that spell,” Solana said.  She jabbed a finger at the chair - at Alana.  “Her magic, her power ... rewritten by me.  And now she is trapped by her own spell.”

She gave us all a tight smile.  “Any questions?  You, girl who looks like a ghost?”

Isabella sounded annoyed.  “Von Rupert ...”

“Magister Von Rupert,” Solana corrected.  Her voice hardened.  “Unless you want Magister Grayson to be supervising your detentions from now till winter.”

There was a pause.  “Magister Von Rupert said that the spell couldn't be altered,” Isabella said, tartly.  “Was he wrong?”

Solana smiled.  “It would be more accurate to say that it would be easier to use a very different transfiguration spell than adapt Anna’s Amphibian to serve another purpose,” she said.  “But as you’re meant to be learning to build spells up from the bare basics, what he said serves the purpose.”

She waved a hand at the chair.  “I want you all to think about something,” she said.  “That girl is now a chair.  She is trapped in a very different form, unable to move ... she may not even be able to perceive the world around her.  And yet she is still aware.  She can hear us, somehow.  But she cannot answer.  She cannot tell us what’s happened to her.”

Her voice hardened.  “Some of you may think that this is a great joke,” she warned.  “You’re laughing, deep inside.  I’m sure that most of you have been inanimate objects, just for a short while.  But think about it for a moment.  What happens to her if I break a wooden leg?  Or toss her into the fire?  The spell might be a joke, but the consequences could prove lethal.”

I swallowed.  Beside me, Rose looked sick.  Solana was right.  Alana was awake in there, she was aware in there ... but she had no way to communicate with the outside world.  I didn't pretend to know how she could hear - there were no ears on the chair - yet it wouldn't be enough to keep her from panicking.  She might be on the verge of a breakdown ...

Solana snapped her fingers.  There was a flash of light.  Alana appeared, kneeling on the floor where the chair had been.  She looked ... 

I couldn't put it into words.  It was fear and terror and something truly awful.  But it shocked me more than I cared to admit.

“I hope you understand the dangers now,” Solana said, very quietly.  “A simple prank can become dark magic very quickly, if one does not think.”

She waited for Alana to sit down, then launched into a long lecture.  Most of it I already knew, but I took careful notes anyway.  I didn’t want to draw Solana’s attention in my direction.  Besides, there was always the prospect of learning something new ...

“This is a very basic defence spell,” Solana finished.  She held up a hand and chanted a couple of harsh words.  There was a flicker of light in front of her which snapped out of existence a second later.  “You can use it to deflect basic jinxes and hexes - although most curses, alas, are rarely bothered by it.  Unfortunately, without proper protection, the spell has a very short lifespan.  Don’t try to use it as a permanent shield because it won’t last.”

She made us practice, again and again.  Alana already knew it, but her hand was so unsteady that it took her four tries to get it right.  Rose managed it on her second try and smiled so brightly that I couldn't help a surge of pure hatred.  The others seemed to get it just as quickly, save for me.  I made the gestures and said the words, but nothing happened.

“Get the timing right,” Solana ordered, as she started to move down the line of desks, casting small jinxes on each of us.  Alana deflected her spell, easily.  I thought I saw her smile, just for a second, as her confidence returned.  “Cast it too early and it will fail, cast it too late and it will be worse than useless.”

I shuddered as she stopped in front of Rose, then cast the jinx.  Rose cast her spell a second later, sending the jinx rattling off into the ceiling.  Solana nodded in cold approval - I could practically feel Rose vibrating in excitement - and then moved to face me.  Her expression suggested I was in deep trouble.  And I was right.

She cast the jinx slowly, giving me plenty of time to see it coming.  It didn’t matter.  I said the words and made the gestures, but her jinx still struck me.  My skin started to itch a moment later.  It took all of my determination not to start scratching as she gave me a disappointed look, then cast a second hex.  Once again, nothing happened.  The itch only got worse.

“Work on it,” she ordered, curtly.

Alana was muttering to Bella about writing to Dad, as we left the classroom.  He could write an official complaint, perhaps even get Solana sacked.  Alana’s voice rose as she argued her case, but I found it hard to care.  A simple spell, one so easy that a complete novice like Rose had managed it on her second try ... and I had failed, once again.  Everyone had seen me fail.

And the more they saw me fail, the more they would believe I was nothing more than a zero.

“You’ll get it,” Rose said, trying to be encouraging.  “I’m sure you will.”

“Hah,” I grumbled.  I peeked at my timetable.  Had it really been over two hours since lunchtime?  “One more class before dinner and sleep.”

“And the library,” Rose reminded me.  “You said you’d come with me.”

I sighed.  The library ... at least it would be better than being trapped in the dorm.

“All right,” I said.  “We’ll go after dinner.”

Chapter Ten

“I must say you’re quite an interesting case, Caitlyn,” Magistra Haydon said.  Her green eyes studied me as though she wanted to dissect me.  “I’ve seen students with low magic before, of course, but you’re lower than any of them.”

I chose to look around her office rather than answer her.  It was a simple room, lined with bookshelves and a large painting of a sour-faced woman in purple robes.  There was something about it I would have found comforting, if Magistra Haydon hadn't reminded me so much of my mother.  Mum could see through any number of excuses, half-truths and blatant lies.  And Magistra Haydon gave me the same impression.  She was a woman who was good at talking, but not so good at listening.

Reluctantly, I dragged my attention back to her.  Her hair was blue, contrasting oddly with her dark skin, green eyes and white robe.  I would have put her age at forty, although with magic a magician could look any age she chose.  She wouldn't have gone into healing - and magical growth - if she hadn't been a very skilled magician.  But that didn't stop her from looking at me as though I was nothing more than a particularly interesting specimen.

“I’ve had quite a bit of experience with low-magic students,” she offered, after a moment.  “I think they mostly came from commoner backgrounds, although a few” - her lips pursed -“had repressed their magic for various reasons.  There was a girl who ...”

She shook her head.  “Can you think of any reason you shouldn't have magic?”

I shrugged.  There was none.  I’d been born to two magicians, I’d grown up in a magical environment, my two sisters were both strongly magical ... there was no reason to assume I shouldn't have magic.  And really, I’d had a comfortable life.  My parents had given us tools to develop magic almost as soon as we could use them.  They’d known precisely how to fan the spark into a flame.

“Your parents have given me permission to try a few experiments,” Magistra Haydon said, softly.  “Do I have your permission?”

I shrugged, again.  This was a waste of time.  “Do you need it?”

“You’re not an adult, yet,” Magistra Haydon said.  “You won’t come of age for another four years - and even then, you will be guided by your parents for another three.  But it is better to work with you than against you.  It is for your own good.”

“And that means you’re going to go ahead anyway,” I said, tartly.  There were horror stories about what happened to children who were deemed insufficiently magical.  “Is that right?”

Magistra Haydon’s smile grew wider.  “I have no intention of doing anything to hurt you,” she said.  She sounded sincere.  “Now, tell me.  Have your parents done anything to you that you resent?”

“They made me go to school and talk to you,” I said, before I could stop myself.  The words just came tumbling out.  She’d put a spell on me ... no, in the air.  Maybe not a full-blooded truth spell, but enough to encourage me to talk.  “You ...”

I stopped myself.  Her smile grew a little strained.  I felt a flicker of vindictive pleasure.  Dad had talked about the downside of truth spells more than once - he worked with them at Magus Court - and about how the caster might hear more than they wished.  

Served her right, I thought nastily.  She’d wanted me to talk, and she’d got exactly what she wanted.

“Many other students have felt the same way,” Magistra Haydon said.  She recovered magnificently, I admitted.   “But my help has often made the difference between success and failure.”

She paused.  “Why do you resent your parents for sending you to school?”

I clamped my mouth firmly closed until I had put an answer together.  “I don’t have magic,” I said.  Admitting that hurt, but it wasn't as though Magistra Haydon didn't know the problem already.  “I can’t cast a single spell.”

Magistra Haydon looked back at me, evenly.  “Do you realise how unprecedented that is?”

I nodded.  Dad had gone through stacks of old books as he’d come to realise, slowly, that I would never match my sisters.  Low magic was one thing, but no magic?  And no sensitivity to magic?  There were more stories of children being born with magic, using it in their cradles, than adults without magic.  I’d even heard a story about a boy who’d been born with magic so powerful that none of the other magicians could match him.  He’d been so strong that he could make spells work just by willing it ...

But I didn't have any magic at all.

“It’s much more likely that you repressed your magic, somehow,” Magistra Haydon said, gently.  “And whatever caused it would have had to be so far in the past that you’ve forgotten it.”

I frowned.  “Is that likely?”

“There was a boy I helped who was utterly terrified of water,” Magistra Haydon informed me.  “It turned out that he had almost drowned as a toddler.  He’d forgotten the incident itself, but not the fear.  I brought it out and helped him to come to terms with it.”

“And he’s a champion swimmer now?”  I guessed.  It was hard to keep the sarcasm out of my voice.  If the solution was that simple, Mum or Dad would have thought of it.  “And you think you can do that to me?”

“You’re quite a defensive girl,” Magistra Haydon said.  “You wrap yourself up in sarcasm to keep from being hurt.  And yet you also push back as hard as you can.”

“That's not an answer,” I said.  I had to push back.  My sisters would walk all over me if I didn't.  “Do you think you can do that to me?”

“It’s worth exploring,” Magistra Haydon said.  She shrugged.  “I can give you tools and let you play with them for the next hour, but I think that would be pointless.  Whatever is blocking your magic won’t let them work.  Think about it.”

She rang the bell for a maid.  “Do you prefer hot milk or chocolate?”

“Chocolate,” I said, quickly.  “Why?”

Magistra Haydon ordered tea for herself and hot chocolate for me, then smiled.  “It helps you to relax,” she said, simply.  “And I need an answer.  Do you want me to reach into your past?”

I tensed.  “How?”

“I’d use a spell to put you in a hypnotic state, then walk you backwards until we reached the incident,” Magistra Haydon said, simply.  “Don’t worry.  I’m not allowed to share anything I learn with anyone.”

“Apart from my parents,” I grumbled.  

The maid returned, carrying a mug of hot chocolate and a pot of tea.  I sipped mine gingerly, wondering if she’d slipped a potion into the brew.  It wouldn't be hard - the hot chocolate was flavourful enough to hide a mild sedative.  But I thought not ... I didn't feel tired, not after what she'd said.  I felt alarmed.  And yet, part of me wanted to believe she might be right.

“Very well,” I said, finally.  “Do it.”

“Finish your chocolate first,” Magistra Haydon said, wryly.  “And then lean back in your chair and relax.”

The hot chocolate tasted great, I thought, as an unaccustomed warmth spread through my body.  I felt ... I felt tired, yet safe.  I was vaguely aware of her speaking to me, but it seemed unimportant.  The entire world just seemed to fade away until I was floating in a warm haze of peace.  Her voice was gone, I thought.  There was just peace and quiet and tranquillity ...

I jerked awake, almost dropping the mug.  “What happened?”

Magistra Haydon was sitting behind her desk.  “I’m not sure,” she admitted.  She had to be rattled.  She would never have admitted that to me if she hadn't been.  “The spell worked, at first.  You fell into a trance.  But afterwards ... I’m not sure what happened after that.  I should have been able to walk you back without trouble.”

I sat upright.  My body felt ... odd, as if it couldn't decide if I was tired or not.  “What did happen?”

“You just stayed in the trance,” Magistra Haydon said.  “I didn’t dare try to bring you out, not when the spell was behaving oddly.  I had to wait until you surfaced on your own.”

She peered at me, narrowly.  “What did you feel?”

“Peace,” I said, finally.  “Just ... peace.”

“I see,” Magistra Haydon said.  She reached into a desk drawer and produced a pen-like tool, holding it out to me.  “Try this, will you?”

I took the pen and waved it in the air.  Nothing happened.  Why was I not surprised?

“I’ll be in touch,” Magistra Haydon said, after a moment.  “I need to consult with your parents.”

“You could tell them to pull me out,” I said.  The peace was gone.  “I don’t belong here.”

Magistra Haydon lifted her eyebrows.  “Do you know how many students are rejected each year?”

I looked back at her.  “Do you know how many students are admitted because of family connections?”

“No, and neither do you,” Magistra Haydon said.  “All I know is that you have an opportunity to study that you would not get anywhere else.”

“Or to get permanently turned into a frog,” I snapped.  The anger and bitterness threatened to bubble over.  “I can't work magic.  I can't sense magic.  I’m blind and deaf in a world ruled by the seeing and the hearing.  How long will it be before I get killed because I can't use magic to defend myself?”

Magistra Haydon looked back at me, evenly.  It suddenly dawned on me that I had never dared speak to my mother like that, not once.

“You may also learn how to use magic,” she said, finally.  “Or how to ... compensate for your problems.  You would hardly be the first low-magic student to pass through the gates.”

“I’m the first no-magic student,” I snapped.

I rose and stormed towards the door.  She could have called me back - or yanked me back - at any second, but instead she just let me go.  I wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not, really.  Magistra Haydon talked a good game, but everyone she’d helped in the past had some spark of magic.  I had nothing.  

“Caitlyn,” a voice called.  I turned to see an upperclassman, a fifth-year.  He looked oddly familiar, with a lanky body and pale face, but I didn't recognise him.  “How are you?”

“Fine,” I lied.  I wanted to sit down and think.  Who was this stranger?  He was an upperclassman.  Would he be offended if I admitted I’d forgotten him?  “It’s been a long day.”

“The first day is always the longest,” he said.  He stuck out a calloused hand.  “Robin, Robin Brandon.  I think we only met once.”

I smiled as it clicked.  “Brian’s brother,” I said.  He’d been at the ceremony when Dad had taken Brian as an apprentice, but that had been two years ago.  I vaguely recalled a pudgy boy who hadn't grown up yet ... he’d changed, over the last two years.  He’d lost weight and shot upwards like a rocket.  “He always spoke well of you.”

Robin smiled.  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said.  “Are you enjoying your first day at school?”

I shook my head.  “No,” I said.  A thought struck me and I leaned forward.  “Can you ... find some things for me?”

“Maybe,” Robin said.  “It would depend on what you wanted.  I might have to get them smuggled through the walls ...”

“Some tools,” I said.  “Casting Chalk, potions ingredients ... maybe a few other pieces.”

Robin’s smile grew wider.  “Planning to have some fun, are you?”

I smiled back.  “Something like that ...”

“I’ll see what I can find,” Robin said.  “And how are you going to pay?”

We haggled all the way to the library.  It was a new experience for me, although Mum had insisted that I learn to barter even as a child.  Robin might be well-disposed towards me, but he wasn't going to give anything away for free.  I finally beat him down to five golden crowns for the whole set, if he got it to me by the end of the week.  As soon as we shook hands, he reached into his pocket and produced a piece of Casting Chalk.

“Bigger than that,” I said, crossly.

“It’ll do for starters,” Robin assured me.  “Just don’t get caught with it or you’ll be in trouble.” 

I nodded, then waved goodbye as we approached the library.  Robin wouldn’t want to be seen with a mere firstie, even if I was connected to him through a tangled web of apprenticeship and obligation.  He had his reputation to consider.  I pushed open the library door and instantly fell in love.  The immense room was utterly lined with bookshelves, crammed with so many books that it looked impossible to pull even a single one from the shelves without bringing down the rest.  And yet ...

A dozen students were floating in the air, pulling books from the shelves and checking their pages before either floating the tomes down to the ground or replacing them on the shelves.  I looked up ... the stacks towered above me, reaching high into the air.  A giant couldn't have reached the topmost shelf without magic.  I groaned out loud as I realised I would never be able to reach more than the lowermost shelves.  There were no ladders, no steps ... just magic.

Rose was seated at a small table, looking despondent.  I sighed and walked over to join her as she struggled through a textbook.  Someone had lied to her, I noted, or they simply hadn't realised that a common-born wouldn't have read even the basic books.  The textbook she’d been given was incomprehensible without some of the background details.  

“That’s not a good choice of book,” I said, as I surveyed the nearby shelves.  The library was nearly empty, thankfully.  According to my mother, it was also neutral ground.  The librarians wouldn't hesitate to evict anyone who caused trouble.  “You really need to start with the basics.”

I paused as a thought struck me.  “Can you read?”

“Not much,” Rose admitted.  “I didn't even take any lessons until last year.”

“Ouch,” I said.  I’d been reading since I was three.  Mum and Dad had made sure I knew how to read and write before moving on to older languages.  It struck me, suddenly, that Rose and I had something in common.  I couldn't reach more than a third of the books in the library, if that, but she couldn't read them.  “You’ll get better at it, won’t you?”

“I hope so,” Rose said.

I pulled a book off the shelf and held it out to her.  “This is the very basic textbook,” I said.  I decided not to mention that most magical children outgrew it very quickly.  “It's the fundamentals you need to master before you can pass classes.”

“You make it look easy,” Rose said.

I gave her a sharp look, but she was sincere.  It was all I could do to keep from bursting out into hysterical laughter.  I could write out a dozen spells - a hundred spells - a day, but I wouldn't be able to cast them.  And without that, I wouldn't be able to pass the exams at the end of the year.  I was doomed.

“I worked hard,” I said, in the end.  I opened the textbook, pointing to the first set of detailed explanations and examples.  “Now, if you want to start here ... I’ll look at the next book, then check your work.”

In the end, I enjoyed spending time in the library more than I’d expected.  Rose wasn't stupid, merely ignorant.  And she hung on my every word.  I knew I shouldn't get used to it - she would leave me as soon as she realised the truth - but it felt good.  I watched her work, while flipping through several textbooks for the upcoming classes.  Despite myself, I was actually looking forward to Forging.  It didn't rely quite so much on magic.

“It’s nearly dinnertime,” the librarian said, finally.  She was a sour-faced woman who looked to be permanently sucking on a lemon.  Mum had told me that the same woman had been librarian in her day.  Some of her classmates had wondered if the librarian was actually a golem under a very strong glamour.  “And we'll be closing afterwards.”

We checked out a dozen books each - the basics for Rose, a handful of more advanced textbooks for me - and headed down to dinner.  Alana, Bella and Isabella were all there, looking flushed.  I suspected that all three of them had been practicing their defensive magics - and taking advantage of the opportunity to hex their groupies.  At least they hadn’t been hexing me ...

“The food here is great,” Rose said.  She was halfway through her second plate of roast pork and potatoes.  “Is it like this all the time?”

I shrugged.  I didn't have the heart to tell her that I ate better at home.  Instead, we ate quickly and headed back to the dorm.  Sandy was sitting on her bed, reading a textbook and looking very grim.  It didn't seem safe to speak to her, so we showered, got into our nightclothes and pulled the drapes shut as Isabella and the McDonalds entered.  Isabella was talking loudly and boastfully of the spell she’d cast after class.  I did my best to ignore her as I pulled the Casting Chalk from my pocket and drew a set of protective runes around the bed.  They weren’t much, but they’d have to do.  Isabella certainly wouldn't be expecting them.

And when I get the rest of the tools, I thought, we’ll have to see what happens then. 

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