Spellwright

BlakeCharlton

Tothememoryofmygrandmother,

JaneBrydenBuck(1912-2002),

forlongstoriesandlessonsinkindness

Ifonebelievesthatwordsareacts, as I do, then one musthold writers responsible forwhattheirwordsdo.

—URSULAK.LEGUINDancingattheEdgeofthe

World:ThoughtsonWords,Women,

Places

TableofContents

CoverPageTitlePageDedicationEpigraphMapPrologueCHAPTEROne

CHAPTERTwoCHAPTERThreeCHAPTERFourCHAPTERFiveCHAPTERSixCHAPTERSevenCHAPTEREightCHAPTERNineCHAPTERTenCHAPTERElevenCHAPTERTwelveCHAPTERThirteenCHAPTERFourteenCHAPTERFifteen

CHAPTERSixteenCHAPTERSeventeenCHAPTEREighteenCHAPTERNineteenCHAPTERTwentyCHAPTERTwenty-oneCHAPTERTwenty-twoCHAPTERTwenty-threeCHAPTERTwenty-fourCHAPTERTwenty-fiveCHAPTERTwenty-sixCHAPTERTwenty-sevenCHAPTERTwenty-eightCHAPTERTwenty-nine

CHAPTERThirtyCHAPTERThirty-oneCHAPTERThirty-twoCHAPTERThirty-threeCHAPTERThirty-fourCHAPTERThirty-fiveCHAPTERThirty-sixCHAPTERThirty-sevenCHAPTERThirty-eightCHAPTERThirty-nineCHAPTERFortyCHAPTERForty-oneCHAPTERForty-twoCHAPTERForty-three

CHAPTERForty-fourCHAPTERForty-fiveCHAPTERForty-sixEpilogueACKNOWLEDGMENTSABOUTTHEAUTHORCopyrightAboutthePublisher

Map

PrologueThegrammarianwaschokingtodeathonherownwords.

And they were longsharp words, written in amagicallanguageandcrushedinto a small, spiny ball. Herlegsfaltered.Shefellontoherknees.

Cold autumn windsurged across the tower

bridge.The creature standing

beside her covered his facewith a voluminous whitehood.“Censoredalready?”herasped.“Disappointing.”

The grammarian foughtfor breath. Her head felt aslight as silk; her visionburnedwithgaudycolor.Thefamiliar world becameforeign.

She was kneeling on astone bridge, seven hundred

feet aboveStarhaven’swalls.Behind her, the academy’stowersstretchedintothecoldevening sky like a copse ofgiant trees. At variousheights, ribbon-thin bridgesspanned the airy gapsbetween neighboring spires.Before her loomed the darkPinnacleMountains.

Dimly, she realized thather confused flight hadbrought her to the SpindleBridge.

Herheartbegan tokick.FromheretheSpindleBridgearchedaloftyhalf-mileawayfrom Starhaven to terminatein a mountain’s sheer rockface. It lednot toapathoracave, but to blank stone. Itwas a bridge to nowhere,offering no chance of rescueorescape.

She tried to scream, butgagged on the words caughtinherthroat.

To the west, above the

coastal plain, the setting sunwasstainingtheskyamoltenshadeofincarnadine.

The creature robed inwhite sniffed with disgust.“Pitiful what passes forimaginative prose in thisage.” He lifted a pale arm.Twogoldensentencesglowedwithinhiswrist.

“You areMagistraNoraFinn, Dean of the DrumTower,” he said. “Do notdeny it again, and do not

refuse my offer again.” HeflickedtheglowingsentencesintoNora’schest.

Shecoulddonothingbutchoke.

“What’s this?” he askedwith cold amusement.“Seems my attack stoppedthatcurseinyourmouth.”Hepaused before laughing, lowand breathy. “I could makeyoueatyourwords.”

Pain ripped down herthroat.Shetriedtogasp.

The creature cocked hishead to one side. “Butperhapsyou’vechangedyourmind?”

With five small cracks,the sentences in her throatdeconstructedandspilledintoher mouth. She fell onto herhands and spat out the silverwords.They shatteredon thecobblestones. Cold airfloodedintohergreedylungs.

“Anddonotrenewyourfight,”thecreaturewarned.“I

can censor your every spellwiththistext.”

She looked up and sawthat the figure was nowholding the golden sentencethat ran into her chest.“Which of your students istheoneIseek?”

Sheshookherhead.The creature laughed.

“You tookourmaster’scoin,playedthespyforhim.”

Again, she shook herhead.

“Doyouneedmorethangold?” He stepped closer. “Inowpossess theemeraldandso Language Prime. I couldtell you the Creator’s firstwords. You’d find them…amusing.”

“No payment could buyme for you,” Nora saidbetween breaths. “It wasdifferentwithmaster;hewasaman.”

Thecreaturecackled.“Isthatwhatyou think?Thathe

washuman?”The monster’s arm

whipped back, snapping thegolden sentence taut. Theforce of the action yankedNora forward onto her face.Again pain flared down herthroat.“No,youstupidsow,”he snarled. “Your formermasterwasnothuman!”

Something pulled up onNora’s hair, forcing her tolook at her tormentor. Abreeze was making his hood

ruffle and snap. “Whichcacographer do I seek?” heasked.

She clenched her fists.“What do you want withhim?”

Therewasapause.Onlythe wind dared make noise.Then the creature spoke.“Him?”

Involuntarily, Norasuckedinabreath.“No,”shesaid, fighting to make hervoicecalm.“No, Isaid ‘with

them.’”The cloaked figure

remainedsilent.“I said,” Nora insisted,

“‘What do you want withthem?’Nothim.Withthem.”

Another pause. “Agrammariandoesnotfaultonherpronouns.Letusspeakof‘him.’”

“You misheard; I—”The creature disengaged thespell that was holding herhead up. She collapsed. “It

wasdifferent in thedreams,”she murmured into thecobblestones.

The creature growled.“DifferentbecauseIsentyouthose dreams. Your studentswillreceivethesame:visionsofasunsetseenfromatowerbridge,dreamsofamountainvista. Eventually they willbecome curious andinvestigate.”

Noraletoutatremulousbreath. The prophecy had

cometopass.Howcouldshehave been so blind? Whatgrotesqueforceshadshebeenserving?

“Perhaps you thinkStarhaven’s metaspells willprotect your students,” thecreature said. “They won’t.They might keep me fromspellwriting within yourwalls, but I can lure thewhelpsintothewoodsorontothese bridges. It won’t behard to do now that the

convocation has begun. If Imust, I’ll snuff out yourstudents one by one. Youcouldpreventallthesedeathsbyspeakingonename.”

Shedidnotmove.“Tellme his name,” the

white figure hissed, “and Iwillletyoudiequickly.”

Nora glanced at therailing. An idea bled acrosshermind like an ink stain. Itmight work if she movedquicklyenough.

“No answer?” Thecreaturesteppedaway.“Thenyourswillbeaslowdeath.”

Nora felt a tug on themagical sentence runningthroughherchest.

“I’ve just infected youwithacankerspell.Itforcesaportion of a spellwright’sbody to forge misspelledrunes. Aswe speak, the firstcanker is forming in yourlungs.Soonitwillspreadintoyourmuscles,compellingyou

to forge dangerous amountsoftext.Anhourwillseeyourbody convulsing, yourarteries bleeding, yourstomachruptured.”

Nora pressed her palmsagainstthecoldcobblestones.

“But the strongest ofyour cacographers willsurvive such an infection,”the creature sneered. “That’show I’ll find him. He’llsurvive the cankers; theotherswilldiescreaming.I’ll

spare you this torture if youtellme—”

ButNoradidnotwaittoheartherest.Soundlesslyshepushedherselfupand leapedover the railing. For amoment, she feared a swarmof silvery paragraphs wouldwrap about her ankles andhoist her back up to thebridge.

But the force of her fallsnapped the golden sentencerunning through her chest…

andshewasfree.She closed her eyes and

discovered that her fear ofdeathhadbecomestrangeanddistant, more like a memorythananemotion.

The prophecy had cometo pass. The knowledgewould perish with her, butthatwas theprice shehad topay: her death would keep asmall,flickeringhopealive.

Still falling, she openedher eyes. In the east, the

crimson sky shone above themountain’s dark silhouette.The setting sun had shot thepeaks full of red-gold lightand, by contrast, stained thealpine forests below a deep,hungryblack.

CHAPTEROneNicodemus waited for thelibrary to empty before hesuggestedcommittingacrimepunishablebyexpulsion.

“If I edit you, we canbothbeasleepinanhour,”he

said to his text in what hehopedwasacasualtone.

At twenty-five,Nicodemus Weal was youngfor a spellwright, old for anapprentice. He stood an inchover six feet and neverslouched.Hislonghairshonejetblack,hiscomplexiondarkolive—two colors that madehisgreeneyesseemgreener.

Thetexttowhomhewasspeaking was a commonlibrary gargoyle. She was a

construct, an animated beingcomposed of magicallanguage. And as Starhavenconstructs went, she was averyplainspell.

More advancedgargoyles were animalisticmishmashes: the head of asnake on the body of a pig,limbsprofusewithtalonsandtentacles or fangs andfeathers.Thatsortofthing.

But the gargoylesquatting on the table before

Nicodemus took theshapeofonly one animal: an adultsnow monkey. Her slenderstone torso and limbs werecovered with stylizedcarvingsrepresentingfur.Herbare face presented heavycheeksandwearyeyes.

Herauthorhadgivenheronly one augmentation: ashort tail from whichprotruded three hookedparagraphs of silvery prose.As Nicodemus watched the

spell, she picked up threebooksand,usingtheirclasps,hung them on her tailparagraphs.

“You edit me? Notlikely,” she retorted and thenslowly climbed onto abookshelf. “Besides, I waswritten so that I can’t fallasleepuntildaylight.”

“But you have betterthings to do than reshelvebooks all night,” Nicodemuscountered, smoothing out his

blackapprentice’srobes.“I might,” the spell

admitted, now climbinglaterallyalongtheshelf.

Nicodemus cradled alarge codex in his left arm.“And you’ve let apprenticesedityoubefore.”

“Rarely,” she grunted,climbing up two shelves.“And certainly never acacographer.” She pulled abookfromhertailandslippedit onto the shelf.“You are a

cacographer,aren’tyou?Youmisspellmagicaltextssimplyby touching them?” Shelooked back at him withnarrowedstoneeyes.

Nicodemus hadanticipated such a question;still, it felt like a kick in thestomach. “I am,” he saidflatly.

The gargoyle climbedanother shelf. “Then it’sagainst library rules:constructs aren’t to let

cacographers touch them.Besides, the wizards mightexpelyouforeditingme.”

Nicodemus took a slowbreath.

To either side of themstretchedrowsofbookshelvesandscrollracks.Theywereonthe tenthand top floorof thelibraryknownastheStacks—asquarebuildingthathousedmany of Starhaven’smanuscripts.

Presently the building

was empty save forNicodemusand thegargoyle.Some light came frommoonbeams falling on thepaper window screens, morefrom the incandescentflamefly paragraphs flittingaboutaboveNicodemus.

Hesteppedcloser to thegargoyle. “We’ve beenreshelving so long thatyou’ve slowed down. So it’sonlyyourenergeticprosethatneeds rewriting. I don’t have

to touch you to do that. Allthe other apprentices editedtheir constructs; that’s whythey and their gargoylesfinishedhoursago.”

“All the otherapprentices weren’tcacographers,” the spellreplied, reshelving anotherbook. “Don’t cacographersalways have to stay this lateforStacksduty?”

Trying not to scowl,Nicodemus laid his books

backdownonthetable.“No,usually we don’t need torejuvenateourgargoyles. It’sthis damn convocation; thewizards are pulling everymanuscript they can think oftoimpresstheirguests.”

The gargoyle grimacedat their pile of unshelvedbooks. “So that’swhywe’vefour times as much worktonight.”

Nicodemus gave theconstruct his most haggard

look. “It’s worse than youknow. I’ve still got ananatomy text to review andtwo spelling drills tocomplete before morningclass.”

The gargoyle laughed.“You want empathy from aprimary construct? Ha! Youmight be a cacographer, butyoucanstillthinkfreely.”

Nicodemus closed hiseyes and realized that theystungfromlackofsleep.Half

an hour had already passedsincemidnight,andhehadtowakewiththedawnbell.

He looked at thegargoyle. “If you let merejuvenate your energeticprose tonight, I’ll find you amodificationscrolltomorrow.Thenyoucanchangeyourselfhowever you like—wings,claws,whatever.”

The textual constructbegan to climb back towardthe table. “Wonderful, wings

from a cacographer. Whatgood would a scroll writtenbyaretarded—”

“No,youpileofclichédprose!” Nicodemus snapped.“I didn’t say ‘write.’ I said‘find,’whichmeans‘steal.’”

“Ho ho, the boy hassome spirit after all.” Thegargoyle chuckled. Shestopped climbing to lookback at him. “Steal a scrollfromwhom?”

Nicodemuspulledalock

of black hair away from hisface. Bribing constructs wasan illegal but commonpractice in Starhaven. Hedislikedit,buthedislikedtheidea of another sleeplessnight even more. “I amMagister Shannon’sapprentice,”hesaid.

“Magister AgwuShannon, the famouslinguist?” the gargoyle askedexcitedly. “The expert ontextualintelligence?”

“Thesame.”A slow stone smile

spread across the gargoyle’sface. “Then you’re the boywho failed to live up toprophecy? The one theythoughtwastheHalcyonuntilheturnedouttoberetarded?”

“Do we have a deal ornot?” Nicodemus retortedhotly,hishandsclenched.

Still smiling, thegargoyle climbed onto thetable. “Are the rumors about

Shannontrue?”“I wouldn’t know; I

don’t listen to hearsay,”Nicodemus growled. “And ifyou speak one word againstMagister,heavenhelpmebutI’ll knock you into sentencefragments.”

The gargoyle snickered.“Such a loyal apprentice,consideringyou’reofferingtosteal one of Shannon’sscrolls.”

Nicodemus clenched his

jaw and reminded himselfthat, at some point, virtuallyall apprentices bribedconstructswiththeirmentor’swork. “Gargoyle, what doyouwant?”

She answered instantly:“Two stone more weight, sothemedium-weightgargoylescan’t push me off mysleeping perch. Andquaternarycognition.”

Nicodemus resisted theurge to roll his eyes. “Don’t

be ignorant; most humanscan’t reach quaternarycognition.”

The gargoyle frownedand attached a book to hertail.“Tertiary,then.”

Nicodemus shook hishead. “With your executivetext, we can’t do better thansecondarycognition.”

She crossed her arms.“Tertiary.”

“You might as wellbargain for the white moon.

You’re asking for somethingIcan’tgive.”

“And you’re asking metobeeditedbyacacographer.Aren’t cacographersincapable of concentratinglong enough to finish aspell?”

“No,” he said curtly.“Some of us have thatproblem, but I don’t. Theonly thing that defines acacographer is a tendency tomisspellacomplextextwhen

touching it. And I wouldn’thavetotouchyou.”

The stone monkeyfolded her arms. “But you’reasking me to deliberatelyviolatelibraryrules.”

This time Nicodemusdid roll his eyes. “You can’tviolate library rules,gargoyle; you’ve only gotprimarycognition.Yourrulesonlyforbidmytouchingyou.All I need do tonight is addmore energetic language to

your body. I can do thatwithout touching you. I’vedone this before and thegargoyle didn’t lose a singlerune.”

Thespellleanedforwardand searched his face withblankstoneeyes.“Twostonemore weight and secondarycognition.”

“Deal,” Nicodemusgrunted.“Nowturnaround.”

The gargoyle’s tail wasstill attached to a large

spellbook. But rather thanunfasten it, she stepped ontopofthecodexandturnedtopresentherback.

Nicodemus’s blackapprentice robes had slitssewn into the top of thesleeves,neartheshoulder.Heslipped his arms out of theseand lookeddown at his rightelbow.

Magical runes weremadenotwithpenandpaper,but within muscle.

Nicodemus, like allspellwrights, had been bornwith the ability to transformhis physical strength intorunes made of pure magicalenergy.

By tensinghis bicep, heforged several runes withinhis arm. He could see thesilvery language shinethrough skin and sinew.Tensing his bicep again, hejoined the letters into asentence, which he let spill

intohisforearm.With a wrist flick, he

cast the simple spell into theair, where it twisted like atendril of glittering smoke.Heextendedhisarmandcastthesentenceontothenapeofthemonkey’sneck.

The spell contained adisassemble command;therefore, where it touchedthe construct, she began toshine with a silver glow.Nicodemus wrote a second

sentencewithhisleftarmandcast it next to his first. Aseamoflightrandowntothegargoyle’s tail, and the twosidesofherbackswungopenasifonhinges.

A coiling profusion ofincandescent prose shonebeforehim.

Different magicallanguages had differentproperties, and this gargoylewasmadeof two:Magnus, arobust silvery language that

affected the physical world,and Numinous, an elegantgolden language that alteredlight and other magical text.The gargoyle thought withher Numinous passages,movedwithherMagnus.

Nicodemus’staskwastoadd more energetic Magnussentences. Fortunately, thestructure of these energeticsentences was so simple thateven a cacographer couldcomposethemwithouterror.

Careful not to touch thegargoyle, Nicodemus beganto forge runes inhis bicepsand cast them into thegargoyle. Soon the Magnussentencesappearedasathickrope of silvery light thatcoursed from his arms intotheconstruct.

Though Nicodemus wasa horrible speller, he couldwrite faster thanmany grandwizards. Therefore hedecided to provide the

gargoylewith extra energetictext now; she might notsubmittoanothereditlater.

After moving his handscloser, Nicodemus tensedevery muscle in his arms,from the tiny lumbricalsbetweenhishandbonestotherounded deltoid atop hisshoulder.Withinmoments,heproduced a dazzling flood ofspells that flowed into thegargoyle’sback.

Theblazegrewsobright

thathebegan toworry aboutbringing un-wanted attentionto the library. He wasstandingyardsawayfromthenearestwindow,butawizardworking latemightwalkpastthe Stacks and see the glow.If caught, he would beexpelled, perhaps evencensoredpermanently.

Just then a loud thudsounded toNicodemus’s left.Terrified, he stopped writingand turned, expecting to find

an enraged librarian bearingdownonhim.

But he saw onlydarkened bookshelves andscrollracks. Beyond thosewasarowofnarrow,moonlitwindows.

A second thud madeNicodemus jump. It soundedasifitwerecomingfromthelibrary’sroof.

He looked up but sawonly ceiling. Then thedarkness was filled by a

repetitive clomping, as ifsomeone were running. Thefootstepspasseddirectlyoverhim and then sped away tothe opposite side of thelibrary.

Nicodemus turned tofollow the sound with hiseyes. When the footstepsreached the roof’s edge, theyceased. A moon-shadowflickered across two of thepaperscreens.

Then came a low

muttering beside him: “Ba,ball, balloon, ballistic.”Something snickered.“Symbolic ballistics. Ha!Symbolic, diabolic. Diabolic,symbolic. Sym…bolic is theopposite of dia…bolic. Haha.”

Nicodemuslookeddownand, to his horror, saw hishand enmeshed in the silverand gold coils of thegargoyle’s text. Hiscacographic touch was

causing the once stablesentences to misspell. Hemust have accidentally laidhis hand on the constructwhen startled by thefootsteps.

“Oh, hell!” hewhispered, pulling his handback.

Whenhisfingersleftthegargoyle,thetwosidesofherback snapped shut. Instantly,she was on her feet andstaring at him with one eye

that blazed golden andanother that throbbed withsilver light. “Vertex, vortex,university,”shemutteredandlaughedinawaythatshowedher sharp primate teeth.“Invert, extravert. Ha ha!Aversion,aveeeeersion.”

“Ohhhhh hell,” a wide-eyed Nicodemus whispered,tooshockedandfrightenedtomove.

A sudden nauseatingwaveofguiltwashedthrough

him. He might haveirreversibly damaged thegargoyle’sexecutivetext.

Then the construct wasoff,dashingdowntheaisle.Aspellbookwasstillhooked toher tail. Now, draggingbehind her, the book openedandbegan to loseparagraphswritten in several magicallanguages. Falling from thetorturedpages,theparagraphssquirmed as if alive. Twoexplodedintosmallcloudsof

white runes; others slowlydeconstructedintonothing.

“Wait!” Nicodemusyelled, sprinting after themisspelled gargoyle.“Gargoyle,stop!”

The construct either didnot hear or did not care. Sheleaped up at a window andexploded through its paperscreen.

Nicodemus reached thesill in time to watch her falldown ten stories into a dark

courtyard filled with elmtrees,grass,andivy.

As the gargoyledropped, stray paragraphscontinued to fall from thespellbookattachedtohertail.Radiantwordsofgold,green,silver, and white fluttereddownward and in so doingformed a comet’s tail ofradiantlanguage.

“Please, heaven, pleasedon’t let Magister Shannonfind out about this,”

Nicodemusprayed.“Please!”The gargoyle hit the

ground and scampered away,but the still-fallingcoruscation of paragraphsbegan to illuminate the stonespires,arches,andarcadesofthe surrounding buildings.Nicodemus turned to sprintafterhismistake.

But as he did so,something caught his eye.What exactly, he couldn’tsay. For when he looked

back, it had disappeared,leaving only the vagueimpressionthathehadseen—standingatopanornatestonebuttress—a hooded figurecloakedentirelyinwhite.

CHAPTERTwoThe creature, now crouchingbeside a stone chimney,watched the gargoylescamper through thecourtyard.

The construct’s speed

implied excessive energeticlanguage; itserraticcourse,amisspelled executive text.Only a powerful cacographerwas likely to produce such aconstruct.

“Meaning my boy is inthat librarythisveryinstant,”the creature muttered whileglaringat theStacks.Hehadglimpsed his quarry in thelibrary window, but the rainof paragraphs loosed by thegargoyle had obscured

everything but the boy’ssilhouette.

Suddenly the nightresoundedwithasharpcrack.

The creature turned andsaw a silver spell shoot outfrom behind a stone spire.ThesphericaltextwaswritteninMagnusandsowouldhavea powerful effect on thephysical world. Indeed, itsblazing sentences seemeddesigned to blast a humanbody into a cloud of bone

fragments and vaporizedblood.

More important, thespell was flying straight forthecreature’shead.

He dove right, rollingdown the slate roof. Therewas a crash and needles ofpain flewdownhisback.Nodoubt the Magnus spell hadshattered the chimney intostonesplinters.

At the roof’s edge, thecreature came out of its roll

and crouched. A flyingbuttress to another buildingstood roughly ten feet away.Helookedbackbuttherewasno sign of the guardian spellthat must have cast theMagnusattack.

His body was not indanger; guardian spells wereslow on rooftops. But theywere lightning quick incourtyards and hallways andso could prevent him fromretrievingtheboy.

“So the guardians mustberemoved,”hegrunted.

Withapowerfulleapthecreature flew into the air,white robes billowing, andlanded neatly on the arc oftheflyingbuttress.Withcare,he ran up the arc to anotherroof; this one abutted one ofthe aqueducts that criss-crossedStarhaven.He scaledthe aqueduct, and finding itdry,raneastward.

All three moons were

out, gibbous, and gloriouslybright. They illuminatedStarhaven’smany towersandbridges from three differentangles, transforming thelower levels into a maze ofoverlappingshadows.

The wizards, in theirarrogance, referred toStarhaven as one of their“academies.” In truth, theplace was an ancient city,built by the Chthonic peoplelong before any human had

laid eyes on this continent.Though the wizards claimedtheentiretyofStarhaven,theyoccupied only thewesternmostthirdofthecity.

Thecreature’scourseledhim away from the inhabitedbuildings. Here stood darktowers, cracked domes, andcobbled streets pocked byweeds.

He waited until theabandoned building echoedwiththeheavyfootfallsofthe

guardians.Thenheracedupatower’s spiral staircase andsprinted north on an upper-levelwalkway.

Once certain theguardians were far behind,the creature turned westwardandfocusedhiseverybloodythought onhuntingdown thecacographicboy.

NICODEMUS PUSHED THE doorlatchwithhiselbow,thedooritselfwithhisbackside.When

it swung open, he steppedbackward into MagisterShannon’sstudyandfelloversideways.

His arms encircled atapestry wrapped into a balland bound by twine. Itwrithedcontinuouslyandinamuffled voice blathered:“Corpulent, en-couragement,incorporeal. Ha! Incorporealencooooouragment!”

Nicodemus rolled awayfrom the tapestry. “Celeste,

goddess of the sky, pleasemakeher shutup. I’ll light acandle for you every night ifyoujustmakehershutup.”

Unimpressed, Celestedeclinedtointervene.

“Empathy, apathy,sympathy,hoohoo!”saidthebundledtapestry.

“Two candles?”Nicodemus offered theunseensky.

“Euphony, cacophony,hoo hoo! Calligraphy,

cacography, ha ha!” said thebundle.

Groaning, Nicodemusgottohisfeet.Thestudywasdark, but both the blue andwhite moons shone throughtheopenarchedwindows.

It was a rectangularroom lined with oakbookshelves.Abroadwritingdesksatatoneend,ahuddleofchairsinthemiddle.

Nicodemus went to thenearest bookshelf and pulled

outalargecodexongargoylerepair and maintenance. Theneededspellwasonthetenthpage. He laid the open bookon thedesk,slippedhisarmsfromhissleeves,andwroteashort Numinous spell in hisright hand. Bending thegolden sentence into a hook,hedippeditintothepageandpeeled off a tangle ofNuminous paragraphs thatfolded into a rectangularcrystalline lattice.Careful not

to touch the text, he walkedback to thesquirmingbundleand, with a sharp word, cutthetwinecords.

Thegargoylesprangfreewithajoyfulcry.

Nicodemus struck herover the head with theNuminous lattice. Thecrystalline spell lockedaround the gargoyle’s mind,causing her to freeze in anunlikely pose—one knee andone foot on the floor, both

hands reaching skyward. Shebegantofallforward.

Uttering an oath,Nicodemus extemporized asimple Magnus sentence tocatch her. With a few moresentences, he lifted her upand then leaned her againstthebookshelf.

As far as he knew, noonehadseenhimchasingthegargoylearoundthecourtyardwith a tapestry. For that, hesaidaprayerof thanksto the

Creator.Then he looked at the

gargoyle and said in a voicethat was soft and sincere,“You stupid, sufferingconstruct. What have I donetoyou?”

“Fused her Numinouscortices,” a rumbling voicereplied.

Nicodemus’s bloodfroze. “Magister!” hewhispered as a figuremovedoutofadarkcorner.

Grand Wizard AgwuShannonsteppedintoabarofblue moonlight. The glowilluminatedwhitedreadlocks,a short beard and mustache,tawny skin. His nose waslargeandhooked,histhinlipspressedflatindisapproval.

However, Shannon’seyes commanded the mostattention. They presentedneitheririsnorpupilbutwereeverywherepurewhite.Thesewere eyes blind to the

mundane world butextraordinarily perceptive ofmagicaltext.

Nicodemus sputtered.“Magister, I didn’t thinkyou’d be working so late. Iwasjustgoing—”

The grand wizardstopped him by nodding tothe gargoyle. “Who elseknows?”

“No one. I wasreshelving in the Stacksalone.Iwasjustgoingtoedit

her.”Shannon grunted and

then looked in Nicodemus’sdirection. “She shouldn’thave letyou touchher.Whatwasyourbribe?”

Nicodemus felt as if hewere breathing through areed. “Two stone moreweight and secondarycognition.”

The grand wizardwalked to the gargoyle andsquatted beside her. “She

already has secondarycognition.”

“But that’s impossible; Inever used a modificationscrollonher.”

“Look at this frontalcortex.” The grand wizardpointed.

Nicodemus went toShannon’s side, but lackinghis teacher’s vision, he sawonly the monkey’s stoneforehead.

“There’s some

inappropriate fusion, but…”Shannon muttered. Usingonly themuscles in his righthand, the grand wizardproduced a tiny storm ofgolden sentences.Faster thanNicodemus could follow, thespellsplitthegargoyle’sheadand began to rearrange herexecutivesubspells.

Nicodemus pursed hislips. “She said she wasprimary, and the librariansassigned her to reshelving;

they only use primarygargoylesforthat.”

Shannonbroughthislefthand up to assist hismanipulation of thegargoyle’s Numinouspassages.“Howlongdidyoutouchher?”

“No more than a fewmoments,” Nicodemusinsisted.Hewasabout tosaymore when Shannon clappedthe monkey’s head togetherand pulled the Numinous

lattice from her head as if itwereatablecloth.

Thegargoylesank toallfours and looked up atShannon. Her blank stoneeyes searched his face. “Icouldhaveanamenow,”shesaid in a quick, childlikevoice.

Shannon’s nod sent hiswhite dreadlocks swaying.“ButIwouldn’tpickonejustyet. Get used to your newthoughtsfirst.”

She smiled and then,dreamily,nodded.

Shannon stood andlooked toward Nicodemus.“What was it you wrappedherin?”

“Atapestry,”Nicodemussaid weakly. “From theStacks.”

Shannon sighed andturned back to the gargoyle.“Please re-hang that tapestryandfinishreshelving.Usetherest of the night to name

yourself.”The energized gargoyle

nodded eagerly then scoopedup the tapestry andscamperedoutthedoor.

“Magister, I—”Nicodemus stopped asShannonturnedtofacehim.

The old man wasdressedinthebillowingblackrobesofagrandwizard.Evenin the dim moonlight, theliningofhislargehoodshonewhite, indicating that hewas

a linguist. Silver and goldbuttonsrandownhissleeves,signifying his fluency inNuminousandMagnus.

Shannon’s blind gazewasturnedslightlyaway,butwhen he spoke, Nicodemusfelt as if the old man wasstaring through his body tohissoul.

“My boy, you surpriseme.Asayoungerspellwright,I bribed a few constructs,even got into hot water with

overly ambitious texts. Butyour disability places aspecial burden on us both. Ikeenly want you to earn alesser hood, but if anotherwizard had seen thatmisspelled gargoyle…well, itwouldhaveendedyourhopesof escaping apprenticeshipand made life harder for theothercacographers.”

“Yes,Magister.”Shannon sighed. “I will

continue fighting for your

hood,butonly if therewon’tbe a repetition of such…carelessness.”

Nicodemuslookedathisboots. “There won’t be,Magister.”

The old man began towalk back to his desk. “Andwhy in the Creator’s namedidyoutouchthegargoyle?”

“Ididn’tmean to. Iwasediting text into her whenthere was a crash. Then itsounded like someone was

running on the roof. It mademe accidentally touch thegargoyle.”

Shannon stopped.“Whenwasthis?”

“Maybe half an hourago.”

Thegrandwizardturnedto face him. “Tell meeverything.”

AsNicodemusdescribedthe strange sounds,Shannon’s lips again pressedinto a thin line. “Magister, is

somethingwrong?”Shannon went to his

desk. “Light two of mycandles; leave one here, takeone yourself. Then run up toMagister Smallwood’s study.He always works late. Askhimtojoinme.”

Nicodemus started forthecandledrawer.

“Then you’re to gostraight back to the DrumTower—no detours, nodillydally.” Shannon sat

downbehindhisdesk.“Iwillsend Azure to your quarterswithamessage.AmIclear?”

“Yes, Magister.”Nicodemus set up and lit thecandles.

Shannon began sortingthrough the manuscripts onhis desk. “You’ll spendtomorrow with me. I’vereceived permission to begincasting a primary researchspell and will need yourassistance. And then there’s

mynewcompositionclass toteach. I’ll have you excusedfromapprenticeduty.”

“Truly?” Nicodemussmiled in surprise. “Might Iteach? I’ve practiced theintroductorylecture.”

“Perhaps,”Shannonsaidwithout looking up from themanuscript he was reading.“Now run up to MagisterSmallwood and then straightto theDrumTower,nowhereelse.”

“Yes, Magister.”Nicodemuseagerlypickedupacandleandmadehiswaytothedoor.

But when he put hishand on the latch, an ideastopped him. “Magister,” heasked slowly, “did thatgargoyle have secondarycognitionallalong?”

Shannon paused andthenputdownhismanuscript.“My boy, I don’t want toraise false expectations

again.”Nicodemus frowned.

“Expectationsaboutwhat?”“The gargoyle had

primary cognition until youmisspelledher.”

“But how is thatpossible?”

“It shouldn’t be,”Shannon said before rubbinghiseyes.“Nicodemus,forthisconvocation we are hostingdelegates from the North:Astrophell wizards, some of

my former colleagues. Someof them belong to thecounter-prophecy faction andso will distrust cacographerseven more than otherNortherners do. It would beexceedinglydangerousiftheylearnedthat your touch bothmisspelled a gargoyle andelevated her freedom ofthought.”

“Dangerous becausethey would want mecensored?”

Shannonshookhishead.“Dangerous because theywouldwantyoukilled.”

CHAPTERThreeOn the way to MagisterSmallwood’s study,Nicodemus looked at hiscandle. It was quavering intime to his hand’s finetremble.

He had never knownShannontobetrayevenahintof anxiety.Butwhen the oldman had mentioned theAstrophelldelegates,histonehad been strained, his wordsclipped. The danger theNortherners posed must berealindeed.

Worse had beenShannon’s statement aboutnot raising “falseexpectations.” Nicodemusshivered; the old man could

only have been referring toNicodemus’s lost hope offulfilling the ErasmineProphecy.

“Fiery heaven, don’tthink on it,” Nicodemusmutteredtohimself,ashehaddonecountlesstimesbefore.

A row of archedwindows, all filled withornate tracery, ran along thehallway. Nicodemus stoppedto peer between the flowingstonebeams to thestarrysky

beyond. He slowed hisbreathing and tried to soothehisfrayednerves.

But his hands stilltrembled, and it wasn’tNorthern delegates or unful-filled prophecies that madethemdoso.

It was the memory ofShannon’s facewhen the oldman had stepped into themoonlight—his whiteeyebrowsknitting together indisapproval, his lips

narrowingindisappointment.The memory made

Nicodemus feel as ifsomething were tighteningaroundhisheart.“I’llmakeitup to the old man,” hewhispered.“Iwill.”

He turned from thewindowandhurrieddownthehall to an open door spillingcandlelight into the hallway.“Magister Smallwood?” Heknocked on the doorjamb.The grand wizard looked up

fromhisdesk.Smallwood was a thin,

pale spellwright with atousled wreath of gray hair.Hiseyes,thoughbeginningtocloud over, still held blackpupilswithinbrownirises.

Nicodemus cleared histhroat. “Magister Shannonsends his compliments andasks that you join him in hisstudy.”

“Ah,good,good,alwayshappy to see Shannon,”

Smallwood said with anabsent smile. He closed hisbook.“Andwhoareyou?”

“Nicodemus Weal,Magister Shannon’sapprentice.”

Smallwood leanedforward and squinted. “Ah,Shannon’s next cacographicproject?”

“I’msorry?”“I don’t remember the

last boy’s name. And I’veneverseenyoubefore.”

In fact, Nicodemus hadbeen bringing Smallwoodwritten messages for nearlytwoyears.However,thiswasthe first timeNicodemushadspoken directly to him. “I’msorry, Magister, but I don’tunderstand about thecacographicproject.”

Smallwood stretchedhisarms and adjusted his hood,which like Shannon’s waslined with white. “Oh, youknow, Shannon takes his

work with the Drum Towerboys so seriously. And he’salwaysgotapetcacographer.It’sridiculoustherumorsthatgo round about him; he’s soproudwhenoneofyouearnsalesserhood.”

“Yes, Magister,”Nicodemussaid,tryingnottofrown. He had heard rumorsabout Shannon’s formercareerinAstrophellbutnevera rumor about the oldman’scurrent position asMaster of

theDrumTower.“So, what exactly does

Shannon have you doing toearn that hood?” Smallwoodasked.

“He’swrittenaspellthatallows him to pull my runesinto his body. It helps himspellwritelongertexts.We’rehoping that if enoughlinguists feel I’m helpful,they’llgivemea lesserhoodlinedwithwhite.”

“Ah, yes, and I’m to be

the first who finds youuseful.” Smallwood’s smileseemed genuine. “I believeyou’ll be assisting Shannonand me tomorrow. Veryexciting, very promisingresearch spell we’ll beattempting.”

“I’m honored to be partofit,Magister.”

“And are you teachingyet?”

Nicodemus tried tosound confident. “Anatomy

dissections, but not aspellwriting class yet. I’mverymuchlookingforwardtoit.”

“Yes, well, keeppesteringShannonaboutthat;theacademywillkeepahoodaway from you until you’refifty unless you teachcomposition.” The linguist’sgaze wandered to the bookson his desk. “Did Shannonwantmerightaway?”

“Ibelieveso,Magister.”

Smallwoodstood.“Verywell, very well. Thank you,Nicolas; it is good to meetyou.Youmaygo.”

“Nicodemus,Magister.”“Yes, yes, Nicodemus,

of course.” He paused.“Pardonme, but did you sayNicodemusWeal?”

“Yes,Magister.”Smallwood studied

Nicodemus with a focusedintensity. “Of course,”thegrand wizard said at last,

suddenlyearnest. “Foolishofmetoforgetyou,Nicodemus.Thank you for the message.Youmaygo.”

Nicodemus bobbed hishead and retreated. Hehurried to the hallway’s endand then ducked into anarrow spiral staircase.Shannon had instructed himto go straight back to theDrum Tower, so he joggeddowntothegroundlevelandout into a torch-lit hallway.

Walking eastward, he passedLornish tapestries and gildedstonearcades.

Buthewasblindtotheirbeauty.

His thoughts weretroubled by what Smallwoodhad said about Shannon. Allthe apprentices knew thatShannon had suffered somekind of fall from grace backinAstrophell,butSmallwoodhad implied thereweremorerecent rumors involving

Shannonandcacographers.Nicodemus bit his lip.

Smallwood was famouslyabsentminded;itwaspossiblethat he was mistaking oldrumorsfornew.

But if thatwas thecase,what exactly had Smallwoodbeen misremem-bering whenhe mentioned Shannon’s“next cacographic project”and his new “petcacographer”?

Nicodemus turned to

mountanarrowstaircase.Shannon had begun

teaching cacographers onlyfifty years ago, when hearrived at Starhaven. So thesourceofSmallwood’srumormust have occurred sincethen.

Reaching the oak doorsat the top of the stairs,Nicodemuspushedthemopenand looked out on the grayslate tiles thatpavedtheyardoftheStoneCourt.

Centuries ago, theNeosolar Empire hadrenovated the courtyard aftertaking Starhaven from theChthonic people. However,none of the succeedingoccupying kingdoms hadbuilt over this aspect of thestronghold.

Consequently, the StoneCourt demonstrated theclassical architecture socommon to Starhaven’sImperial Quarter: walls

decorated by molded whiteplaster, arched doorways,wide windows. Eachentryway was flanked by apairofstoneobelisks.

However,becauseoftheStone Court’s remotelocation, the wizards hadfilled it with several objectstoo unsightly to reside inStarhaven’s more populousquarters.

A forest of Dralishstanding stones stood in the

courtyard’s center. On itseastern edge loitered twomarble statues of ErasmusandoneofUrielBolide.Andeverywhere—curled up,sprawledout,orlyingonanyavailable stone ledge—weresleepingjanitorialgargoyles.

Nicodemus started forthe Drum Tower, whichabutted the court’s easternlimit.Butashewent,hesawsomething move within thestoneforest.

Hestopped.Themovementhadbeen

too quick to be that of ajanitorial gargoyle. And noneophyteshouldbeawakesolate. Perhaps it was a feralcat?

It came again: a paleblur between two standingstones.ApprehensiongrippedNicodemus. Wizards woreonlyblack.Clothofanyothercolor signified an outsider…oranintruder.

Starhaven’s manytowershidtheblueandblackmoons,butthegibbouswhitemoonhungdirectlyoverheadand flooded the court withmilky light. As Nicodemussnuck among the standingstones, a crocodile-likegargoyle sleeping on theground rolled over to regardhimwithahalf-openedeye.

Someone waswhispering behind themegalithtoNicodemus’sleft.

“Who’s there?” he asked inhisboldestvoiceandsteppedaroundthemegalith.

Beforehimstoodashortfigurerobedinwhitecloth.Itspun around with inhumanspeed.

CHAPTERFourMagister Shannon, sittingbehindhisdesk,lookedinthedirection of Smallwood’svoice.“Thankyouforcomingsolate,Timothy.”

“Quite all right; I’m

always up,” Smallwood saidwith his usual warmth.Shannon could not see theother wizard, but judging byhisvoice,hewasstandingbythebookshelves.

“But I’m surprisedyou’re awake,” Smallwoodadded. “I didn’t think youwereanightowl.”

Shannon grunted. “I’mnot.Twohoursago, Iwas inbed.Arelaytextfromoneofmy research projects woke

me with a report of unusualguardian activity around theDrum Tower. Seems they’vebeen chasing somethingaroundontheroofs.”

“Guardian spells,”Smallwood said with adisdainful sniff. “Sloppyprose, if you askme,writtenwith too much sensitivity.Likely they were chasing aferal cat that wandered infrom the uninhabitedquarters.”

“That was my firstthought. I came here to lookupafewthingsabouteditingtheguardians’sensitivity.Butthenmyapprenticeappeared;seems he heard someonerunningacrosstheroofoftheStacks.”

WhenShannonlookedathis bookshelf, his eyes sawthrough the leather bindingsto the radiant paragraphscontained within the books.Ashewatched,arectangleof

green textseparatedfromtherest and unfolded into twosmaller rectangles.Smallwoodhadpulledabookandwasbrowsing through it.“Timothy,areyoulistening?”

“What? Yes, yes, ofcourse,” Smallwood repliedand clapped the greenrectangles together. “So youthink one of the delegatesmight be sneaking about theroofs?”

Shannon shrugged.

“Could be a foreignspellwright. Could be awizard.”

“But spying on theDrum Tower? I know thecacographers are close toyour heart, but shouldn’tintriguefocuselsewhere?TheMain Library, say, or theprovost’squarters?”

“Precisely what worriesme.”

Smallwood coughed.“Agwu, might you be

overreacting? I know youwere more…involved inAstrophell, but this isStarhaven.”

Shannon rubbed hismustachetohidehisfrown.

Smallwood continued.“Perhaps the Astrophelldelegates have put you onedge? Brought back the oldinstincts?”

“Perhaps but unlikely,”Shannon insisted. “I’ve twoguardian spells in the

linguistics library. I’d likethemcasttopatrolaroundtheStoneCourt. But first I needyou to rewrite theirprotocolsto communicate with thegargoylessleepingthere.”

It sounded as ifSmallwoodwereshufflinghisfeet.“Tonight?”

Shannon crossed hisarms and looked where hethought his colleague’s facemight be. “It would helpmefocus on our research spell

tomorrow.”“Tonightitis,then.Iam

grateful you’ve included meinthisresearch.”

Shannonletoutabreathhe had not known he washolding.

The rectangle of greenprose floated back up to itsproperplace:Smallwoodwasreshelving the book. “IsAzureabout?”

Shannonshookhishead.“She’s delivering a message

forme.”He did notmentionthatshewasalsoflyingaboutthe rooftops searching foranythingunusual.

“Pity,” Smallwood said,his voice heading for thedoor. “I wanted to see herNuminous dialect again.Agwu, before I go…do Iremember correctly that yourapprenticewas thought to betheHalcyon?”

“Youdo.”Smallwood continued

hesitantly.“Yourfear that…Imean, perhaps you’rejumping to conclusions.” Hepaused. “Let me ask it thisway: Do you thinkNicodemus is the one ofprophecy?”

“Absolutelynot.”“Good,good,ofcourse.”

The door latch clicked. “I’llhave the guardian spells castwithin an hour. I’ll see youtomorrowaftermidday?”

“Indeed,” Shannon said

and thenwaited for the doorhingestocreakbeforeadding,“Timothy,truly,thankyou.”

“Quite welcome, Agwu.Quite welcome.” The doorclickedshut.

Puffing out his cheeks,Shannon retrieved hisresearch journal from hisdesk. It was a leather-boundcodex about two hands tall.Its spine and face were eachembossed with threeasterisks, allowing him to

identify the book by touch.He opened it and began towrite a few notes about theday.Heworked foraquarterhour before an unexpectedlightmadehimlookup.

He could not see hisdoor physically, but heknewexactly where it was. Itusually formed a darkrectangle amid the glow ofhis bookshelves. Where thedarkness should have been,there now shone a cloud of

goldenparagraphs.ExperiencetoldShannon

that he was looking throughthe door to an incandescentflamefly spell being cast inthehallway.

His first thought wasthatSmallwoodhadreturned.But Timothy knew thehallways; he rarely cast asingle flamefly paragraph,much less a swarm. Theauthor of this spell wanted agood deal of light when

navigating Starhaven’shallways.

Mostlikelyaforeigner.Shannon squinted at the

text. Itwaswrittenwithboldwords and complexsentences.Theauthorfavoredcompound appositives, anunusualstructure.

Shannon grimaced inrecognition. It had been along time since he had seenthis spellwright. “Creatorsaveme,whatelseisgoingto

happen tonight?” hemuttered, waiting for theauthortoknock.

But she did not knock.He closed his researchjournal.Moments passed.Hecould see her prose but nother body. Strangely, she letthe flamefly paragraphsdeconstruct into heatlesscinders that snowed down tothe floor. What was shewaitingfor?

Affecting his warmest

tone,hecalledout,“Youmaycomein,Amadi.”

Slowly the door hingessqueaked. A woman’s calmvoice said, “I see that oldMagister Shannon isn’t asblind as rumor claims.” Thedoorclickedshut.

Shannon smiled as hestood. “Old? I’m not soantique as to forget yoursharp tongue. Come andembrace your ancientteacher.”

Memory guided himaround the desk. Amadi’sapproaching footsteps werelight, hesitant. But herembrace was strong andquick.He had forgotten howtallshewas.“Buttherumorsare true,” he said whilestepping back: “I’m as blindasacavefish.”

She paused. “You don’tlook old enough to have lostsight.”

He chuckled dryly.

“Then it’s your eyes weshould worry about. I’mnearly done with my secondcentury.”

“Magister, I’ll be sorelydisappointed if it’s only agethatstoleyourvision,”Amadisaid in the same teasing toneshe had used as a girl. “I’veheard stories, legends even,about how you blindedyourselfbyreadingforbiddentextsintheSpirishCivilWaror by combating twenty

mercenaryauthorswhileyourbeardwasonfire.”

Shannon had beencounterfeiting good humor,but now a genuine laughescapedhislips.“Thetruthisnothingsoscintillating.”

“Butyoudon’tseemthatold.”

“You always were astubborn one.” He laughedagainandshookhishead.

In Astrophell, Shannonhad made several powerful

enemies who might haveplanted an agent in theNorthern delegation. For thisreason,anyAstrophellwizardwas a potential threat; andyet,despitethedanger,heen-joyed talking to his formerstudent and remembering apastlife.

“Amadi, I plan to beginghostwriting in five years,”he said in a more playfultone. “So don’t bother withflattery about how young I

might seem; it only remindsme of your advantage. Myfamiliar is not about to lookat you for me. And I’mcurioustoseeyouafter…howlong has it been? Fiftyyears?”

Amadi’s leather soleswhispered against the floor.“Yourfingersmaylook,”shesaid,suddenlycloser.

This was unexpected.“That…” His voice died asshetookhishandsandplaced

themonherbrow.Anuncomfortablepause.Then his fingertips

flowed onto her briefeyebrowridge;downoverherdeep-set eyes; up the sharpnasalpromontory;softlyoverthetwopursedlips;alongthedelicatechin.

His memory providedcolor: ivory for her skin,sableforherhair,waterybluefor her eyes. Imaginationmixedtouchwithrecollection

to produce the image of apale wizard with finedreadlocks and an impassiveexpression.

Shannon swallowed. Hehadn’t thought seeing an oldstudent would be like this.“Yourhairmustshowalittlewhitebynow,”he saidmorequickly than he would haveliked.

“More thana little,” shesaid, stepping away. “Willyou tell me how you

recognized me through yourdoor?”

“With my natural sightgone,myspellwright’svisionnow pierces the mundaneworld to see magical text.Through the door, Irecognized your compoundappositives.”

“You still remembermyprosestyle?”

He shrugged. “I alsoheard your name among theAstrophell delegates; I was

expecting to run into yousoonerorlater.Thisturnsouttobesoonerindeed.”

“Magister,Iwanttotalkabout—”

“Please,callmeAgwu,”he interrupted. “Or Shannon—it’s what my friends usewhentheyhavetroublewithaNorthernfirstname.”

“Idon’tthinkIcan,”shesaid and then giggled. “Doyou remember catching meand the other acolytes out of

bed? How can I call youShannonrememberingthat?”

He joined his laugh tohers and walked back to hischair.“Ihadnearlyforgotten.Whatwereyoulittlemonsterssneakingintotheacademy?Apair of muddy pigs? Please,takeaseat.”

“Pigs? In Astrophell?”sheasked.Herchaircreaked.“Itwasonlyone, very clean,goat.”

“Whatever it was, you

certainlycancallmeShannonnow that you may carry agrand wizard’s staff.” Hesettledintohischair.

“Well then, Shannon, Ibring word of yourgranddaughter.”

Shannon’s stomachtightened. Her tone was stillplayful,butherwordsmarkedthe end of pleasantries, thebeginningofpolitics.

“You do?” he said,forcing his smile to neither

broadennorwilt.Amadi cleared her

throat. “She married awealthyIxonianmerchantlastyear.”

“Wonderful,” he heardhimself say. “What else canyoutellme?”

“Littlemore, I’m afraid.I’ve the merchant’s namewritten down somewhere.”She paused. “Forgive me. Itmust be difficult discussingthelifeexiletookaway.”

Shannon waved awayhercomment.“Bah,itwasnoexile;Iacceptedthisposition.Besides, wizards swear offfamily for a reason. In thebeginning, it was difficultgettingonlyfragmentednewsof my son. But now I’vepromising research anddedicated students. We arediscovering such fascinatingthings. Just this morning Ireceived permission to begincasting my primary research

spell.”Amadi’s chair creaked.

“And you’re content withsucha…calmlife?”

Shannon raised hiseyebrows. So she suspectedthathestillharboredpoliticalambitions? That might bedangerous, especially if shewere reporting back toAstrophell.

“Amadi, sometimes itfeels as if another authorlived that bustling career in

the North. Starhaven is asmaller academy, and we’reso very far from civilization.Buthere…”Hemadeashowofrunninghisgazeacrosshisbooks.“HereIenjoyaslowerlife.”

When shedidnot reply,hechangedthesubject.“Ijustmoved into new quartersabove the Bolide Garden.Janitorial is renovating thegardens; it’s not much now,heaps of dirt and clay, but it

will be beautiful. I couldshowyou.”

Amadi’s chair creakedagain. “Some Astrophellwizards have been quotingyour ‘Complaint to the LongCouncil.’”

His grin faded. “It wasmybestspeech.”

“Many still find itinspiring.”

“Iamgladtohearit,butthat life is over. There’s nousebaitingmyappetiteforit.

I stay clear of Starhaven’sintrigue. As a researcher, Ican’tbecompletelyapolitical.But because of my past, theprovost and his officers arehappy to leave me out ofmostentanglements.”

Amadisaidnothing.Theparchmentonthetablebeganto crinkle, likely from abreeze coming through thewindow.

“But never mind me,”Shannon said. “How have

you spent the past fourdecades?Studyingdiplomacyperhaps? Is that where thistalkofmypastcomesfrom?”

“My hood has a purplelining.”

“A sentinel? Yes, youmustbewonderful.”

She cleared her throatimportantly. “I commandAstrophell’s lead sentinelexpeditions. In fact, I led thedelegationdownhere. I evenhave a personal secretary: a

youngIxoniannamedKale—only a lesser wizard, butbrightandcapable.”

“Pardontheobservation,but it seems odd thatAstrophell should sendsentinelstoourconvocation.”

“The journey from theNorthwas long.And heavenonly knows why our ordereveroccupiedthisgargantuanstronghold out in the middleof nowhere. Granted, itmakes a fine sight from the

Westernmost Road—thehighesttowerspiringupfromthemountainsidetodwarfthepeaksbehind.”

Shannon rested hiselbows on the table andsteepled his fingers. “ButAmadi, why shouldAstrophellsendsentinelswithitsdelegation?”

“The diplomats neededprotection.”

“Isee.”“Shannon, is this room

safefrompryingears?”He nodded. “Quite safe.

Do you bring news fromabroad?”

“Newsfromwithin.”Shannonleanedforward.

“Goon.”Amadishiftedinherseat

and half-whispered: “MurderinStarhaven.”

Shannon’s heart begantostrike.“Who?”

“Thisisasensitiveissue,onethatmustbehiddenuntil

the convocation is over. Thedelegates must renew thetreaties.”

“I’mawareofthat.Nowwillyoutellmewhohasbeenkilled?”

“Bear with me,Magister. Five hours ago ajanitorial gargoyle workingbeneath the Spindle Bridgediscoveredwhathethoughttobeadyingwoman.”

“Whathe thoughtwasadyingwoman?”

“She was already dead,but her bodywas still fillingitself with a virulentNuminous misspell. Thegargoyle, having secondarycognition, assumed she wasstill aliveand tookher to thedeputy provost of libraries.She, in turn, reported to theprovost, who related theinformationtome.”

Shannon paused. “YousaidthiswomanfellfromtheSpindle?”

“So it seems. What canyoutellmeofthebridge?”

Shannon wondered howmuch information he shouldshare. Amadi had leaped tothe top of the sentinel ranks,and such a feat would beimpossiblewithout thesupport of several factionsthat despised Shannon. Hedecided to share onlycommon knowledge until heknewmore.

“You seem troubled,”

Amadi said. “Is it odd thatthis woman was on theSpindle?”

“Surpassingly odd,” hesaidatlast.“Accordingtothehistorians, the Chthonicpeople built the bridge notlong after they finishedStarhaven. But it leadsnowhere.Spansnearlyamileofaironly torunintoacliff.The Chthonics did cutbeautiful designs into therock. Just north of the

bridge’s end is a foliatepattern—ivy leaves, Ibelieve—and south is a hexagonalpattern.”

“Anyexplanationforthecarvings? Or the bridgeitself?”

Shannon shrugged.“Folktales about theChthonicsbuildingaroadtoaparadise called Heaven TreeValley.Supposedlywhen theNeosolar Empire began tomassacre theChthonics, their

goddess led them to theHeaven Tree and dropped amountain on the road. Somesay the Spindle once led tothatroad.”

“Any evidence tosupportsuchatale?”

“None. But every sooften,thehistoriansprobethemountainsidewithtext,tryingto open the way to theHeaven Tree. They’ve foundonly rock.” He paused. “Doyou think the murder is

connectedtoanyofthis?”The soft swish of

moving cloth told Shannonthat Amadi was shifting inherseatagain.“NotthatIcansee,” she said and thensighed.

Shannon paused beforehespokeagain.“Amadi,Iamshocked and grieved by thistragedy. And yet…pleasedon’tthinkmeheartless,butIdon’t want to becomeinvolved. Imust think ofmy

research and my students.Helping you might drag meinto political situations. As Isaid, I am a different manthanIwasintheNorth.Butifyou refrain from mentioningmy name, I’ll give whateveradviceIcan.ButI’dstillneedtoknowthevictim’sname.”

A long pause. Shespoke: “Nora Finn, thegrammarian.”

“Sweet heaven!”Shannonwhispered in shock.

Nora had been the DrumTower’sdeanandhisfiercestacademicrival.

Instantly his mind spunwiththepossibleimplicationsof themurder.Itmightbeanindirect attack by oldenemies. It might also beconnected to the restlessguardian spells andNicodemus’s prowler on topof the Stacks. That wouldmake the Drum Tower thefocusoftheintrigue.

Shannon fingered theasterisks on the spine of hisjournal. His enemies mighthope to exact revenge byharming his students. Histhoughts jumped toNicodemus. The boy’scacography had proven hewas not the Halcyon, butShannon’s enemies inAstrophell might have heardhisnameand somarkedhimastheirtarget.

Or, far less likely but

more frightening, the boymight have some unknownconnection to the ErasmineProphecy. If that were so,then the fate of all humanlanguage would be injeopardy.

“DidyouknowMagistraFinn?”Amadiasked.

Shannon started. “I’msorry?”

“Did you know Finn?”Amadirepeatedpatiently.

Shannon nodded. “Nora

and I both took care of theDrum Tower’s students. Asthe Drum Tower’s master, Isee to our students’residential matters. As thedean, Nora governed theiracademics.Butthesestudentsdon’t often study. I end upcounseling the few who doadvance to lesser wizards.Nora had little contact withthem. Nora and I were bothbeingconsideredforthesameChair. Rivals for it, I

suppose.”“Goon.”Shannon paused. He

dared not share moreinformationwithAmadiuntilhe was certain of herallegiances.

So he did whatacademics do best: he threwhishandsintheairandbeganto whine. “This couldn’tcome at a worse time, whatwith the convocation. Howcan the murderer be caught

when everything’s in chaos?Andmypoorresearch!Ican’tstop it now; I just sent amessagetomyapprentice.”

Amadi exhaled slowly.“As I said, we hope theinvestigation will not disrupttheconvocation.”

“We? Amadi, shouldn’tthe provost’s officers beconducting thisinvestigation?”

She cleared her throat.“Provost Montserrat himself

instructed me to lead thisinvestigation.”

Shannon fingered thebuttonsonhis sleeves. “WhyshouldtheprovostappointanAstrophell wizard to lead aStarhaveninvestigation?”

“I carry a letter ofrecommendation from thearch-chancellor.”

“I don’t doubt yourqualification,”hesaid,thoughhediddoubtherintentions.

Amadi continued, “We

must conceal thisinvestigation from thedelegates. They won’t beinclined to renew the treatiesiftheythinkamurdereris—”

“Yes, Amadi, as yousaid. But why come to me?No doubt the provost’sofficers could have told youabouttheSpindleBridge.”

A creaking came fromAmadi’s chair once more.“Doyouhaveafamiliar?”

“IalreadytoldyouthatI

do.”“I would like to see the

creature.”Shannon nodded.

“Certainly.She’llsoonreturnfromdeliveringamessage tomy apprentice. But Amadi,you’re investigating amurder;why do youwant toseemyfamiliar?”

A long silence stretchedoutbetweenthem.Atlastthesentinel spoke in a low,controlledtone:“Becauseyou

areourprimarysuspect.”

CHAPTERFiveThe figure robed in whitejumped back nearly five feetandcrouched.

The speedwithwhich itmoved shocked Nicodemus.Hewasabouttocryoutwhen

it stoodand lowered itscowltorevealawoman’stanface.

Her wide eyes gleamedgreen even in the bleachingwhitemoonlight.Hersmootholive skin and narrow chinresembled those of a twenty-year-old girl, yet she heldthese youthful features in acalm expression of matureconfidence.Thewavesofherraven hair spilled downaround her face to disappearunderherpalecloak.

To Nicodemus, sheseemedoddlyfamiliar.

“Whatisthemeaningofthis?” the woman askedsternly. “I am Deirdre, anindependent emissary fromthedruidsofDral.IwastoldI had license throughout thefastness during theconvocation.”

“Your pardon, MagistraDeirdre. I didn’t know youwereadruid.”Hebowed.

“Do not call me

Magistra. Druids hold notitles.” Her voice was calm,but her eyes flicked up anddownNicodemus like flameslapping at a dry log. Shewalkedtowardhim.“Areyouawizard?”

To her right, the airshimmered. A warm blushspread across Nicodemus’scheeks. “Hoping to becomeonesoon,”hereplied.

“An apprentice, then.Whoisyourmentor?”

“Magister Shannon, thewell-knownlinguist.”

The druid seemed toconsider this. “I have onlyrecently become aware ofShannon.”

Nicodemus nodded andthen smiled. If he couldimpress thiswoman, itmighthelp Shannon’s status in theconvocation. It was a smallthing, but perhaps thenMagisterwouldsoonerforgetthemisspelledgargoyle.

“May I assist you?”Nicodemus asked the druidand then bowed to theshadow on the druid’s right.“Oryourcompanion?”

Deirdre’s full lips roseinto a sly half-smile. Sheexamined Nicodemus, thennodded. “Forgive thesubtext,” she said. “Kyran ismyprotector.”

The shadow beside herwelled up out of the groundand coalesced intoa human

figurewhosecloakingsubtextfell away, causing themoonlighttoshimmer.

Nicodemus nodded tothe newcomer. Standingseveral inches over six feet,the man cut an imposingfigure. He had undone thewooden buttons runningdown his white sleeves tobetter expose his musculararms for spellwriting. Hiscomplexionwas fair, his lipsthin,hislonghairgolden.No

wrinkles creased hishandsome face; however,among spellwrights, thatwasnot necessarily an indicationofyouth.

Inhis right hand,Kyranheld a thick oak staff.Nicodemus eyed the object;supposedlythedruid’shigherlanguages gained specialabilitieswhencastintowood.

Deirdre was gazingabout the Stone Court. “Wewishtomakedevotionstoour

goddess. A wizard told usthere were standing stoneshere, but these rocks arearrangedneither incirclenorgrid.”

A nearby crocodile-likegargoyle crawled away,perhaps to find a quietersleepingspot.

“And you wizards havecoveredthestoneswiththesestrangestonelizards.”

Nicodemus bowed.“Please excuse the disorder.

The standing stones were agiftfromaHighlandlord.Wedonotknowhowtheyshouldbe arranged. As for thegargoyles, they’re not lizardsbut advanced spells we calltextual constructs. You see,Magnus, one of thewizardlyhighlanguages,cantransformitstextualenergyintostone.”

Thedruidsmiledslightlyas if he had just saidsomethingamusing.

Unsure what to do,

Nicodemus offered moreinformation: “These arejanitorial gargoyles. We’vewrittenanaffection for stoneinto their minds. So theyclimb all over the occupiedtowers, tending to the roofs,searching for crumblingmortar,andkeepingthebirdsaway.”

Deirdre continued towatchhiminsmilingsilence.

“But if you want tomake devotions,”Nicodemus

added awkwardly, “youmight feel more comfortablein one of our gardens.Magister Shannon has justtaken quarters above theBolide Garden, but it’s stillbeingrenovated.”

The male druid spoke.“Whyisthisplacesoempty?Where are the otherwizards?”

Nicodemus smiled; herewas a question he couldanswer authoritatively.

“We’reallpresent.Starhavenonly seems empty because itis so large. Once it housedsixty thousand Chthonicpeople. Now only fourthousandwizards and half asmany students live here.Weare still exploring theuninhabited ChthonicQuarter. There is much tolearn. The NeosolarEmpire,the Kingdom ofSpires, and the Kingdom ofLorn all occupied Starhaven.

Each settlement left adistinctivemarkon—”

Deirdre interrupted.“Whatisyourname?”

Nicodemus froze. Hadhe been talking too much?“Nicodemus Weal,” he said,bowing.

“Tell me of yourparentage.”

“Myparents?”Thiswasunexpected. Had heoffended?“Ia-amthebastardsonofthelateLordSevern,a

minor noble of northernSpires.”

The druid nodded.“Your family provides foryoustill?”

“N-no. Wizards abjurealltiestofamilyandkingdomwhentheybecomeneophytes.Andmyyoungerbrother, thenewLordSevern,seesmeassomethingofathreat.”

“Whatofyourmother?”“Ineverknewher.”“A bastard who doesn’t

knowhismother?”Sheraisedadisbelievingeyebrow.

“One year my fatherreturnedfromapilgrimagetoMount Spireswithmy infantself in his arms. He neverspokeofmymother.Hediedshortly after I came toStarhaven.”

The woman nodded.“You are the one who canforge runes in both of thehigh wizardly languages butcan only touch simple

spells?”Nicodemus’s mouth

wentdry.“Iam.”“I believe your name

wasmentionedalongwiththewizardlyprophecy.”

“But I am not the onetheypredict.”

Deirdre’s mouth wentflat as a table edge. “I mustask you an importantquestion. On some people,somewoundsdonothealintosmooth scars. They form

dark,bulgingscarscalled—”“Keloids,” Nicodemus

said flinching. “I knowwhatthey are. I have one. Onmyback.”

“Acongenitalkeloid?”Nicodemusblinked.The druid’s expression

remained unchanged. “It’scongenital if you were bornwithit.

“My father passed awaybefore the wizards couldinquireaboutit.”

Deirdre did not move.“Soitmightbecongenital.”

“But thekeloid isnot inthe shape of the Braid,” headdednervously,prayingthatshe would not ask to see it.“Or at least, not perfectly.There’sanotherkeloidnearit.MykeloidisnottheBraidtheHalcyonwillwear.”

“Isee.”Deirdreregardedhim for another silentmoment. Slowly her half-smile crept back across her

full lips. “You may go,NicodemusWeal.”

Nicodemus exhaled inrelief and bowed. Neitherdruid moved. “Good-night,Deirdre,Kyran,”hesaid,andturnedfortheDrumTower.

“IRONIC.” DEIRDRE LAUGHEDastheboy’srobemergedwiththe shadows. “Wrapped inblack literally, notmetaphorically.” She liftedhercowl.

“Why didn’t you makehim show us the keloid?”Kyranmoved tostandbesideher. He limped slightly,favoringhisleftlegandusinghiswalkingstaffforbalance.

She smiled and idlyfingeredoneofthebuttonsonhersleeve.“Doyouhaveanydoubtwhatwewillsee?”

“No.No,Idon’t.”“Itisasourgoddesssaid

it would be.” Deirdre closedhereyestorelishthemoment.

“Heintriguesyou.”Sheopenedhereyesand

looked at him. “You weresupposed to write somewarningmagic.”

This made him scowl.“You mustn’t say ‘warningmagic.’ A spellwright wouldsay‘awarningspell’oruseaspell’sspecificname.”

“You’re changing thesubject.”

Kyran continued toscowl. “I did set a warning

spell. The boy walked rightthrough it. Wherever hetouched the text, the runesequences reversed ortwisted. He corrupted thespell without even knowingit.”

“And he gleaned yoursubtext.”

“He did.” Kyran glaredat her with beautiful browneyes. “You shouldn’t havetalked to him for so long.What if you had another

seizure?”She shrugged. “You

would have invented anexplanation. To him I seemhuman.” She looked at thetower into which Nicodemushad disappeared. “He’s beencursed,youknow.”

“Youseeit,too?”“Feelit.”Arookcalledfromhigh

above the fastness. Theylookedup.

“The boy looks like

you,”Kyransaid.“Yes. Interesting to find

somuchImperialbloodinanobscure,minornoble.”

“Hiding him from theother druids won’t be easy.Norwillbetakinghim.”

“Goddess below, Ky!”Deirdreswore.“Stopthinkinglike a rabid lycanthrope.Wecan’t‘take’ theboy.True,hemustgo toourgoddess’sarkwithout delay, but there arecomplications. You must

think of our escape and howthe wizards will react. Hemustgowillingly.”

Her protector was silentfor a long moment. “Heintrigues you,” Kyranrepeatedatlast.

“He’sachild.”A new subtext was

weaving darkness aroundKyran’s waist, returning himto invisibility. He stared ather silently as the subtextcontinueduptohisshoulders.

She scowled. “You’rejealous?”

“Far from it.” Thesubtext covered his chin. “Iremember when I intriguedyou,soIdon’tenvytheboy.”His eyes became soft andthen disappeared. “I pityhim.”

FROM AN EMPTY gargoyle’sstoop high up on anabandonedtower,thecreaturelookeddownintothemoonlit

StoneCourt.Aboydressedinblack was making for theDrum Tower. Two figuresrobed in white stood amongstandingstones.

“Druids,” the creaturemuttered.“Ihatedruids.”

The two white-robesbelowhadspoiledhischancetocatchtheboy.Hadheactedimmediately, he could havecharged into the courtyard,killedthem,andcensoredtheboy. But their unexpected

presencehaddelayedhimtoolong; a moment ago he hadspotted a wizard in a nearbycourtyard casting two newguardianspells.Nowwasthetimeforretreat.

Worse than ruining thisparticular opportunity, thewhite-robes could createmuch larger problems. Longago,ontheancientcontinent,the creature had faced thedruids when their magicalschoolwasattheheightofits

power.Themillenniathathadpassedsincethenhadreducedmodern druids to little morethan gardeners andcarpenters. Even so, thewhite-robesknewmoreoftheancient magics than thewizards. Unless handledcarefully, the druids couldmake it all but impossible toreachtheboy.

A cold autumn windwhipped about the creature’srobes, making them flutter.

Whenhecreptawayfromtheledge, his legs ached and adull pain throbbed across hisforearms.

Thisbodywouldnotlastmuchlonger.

“No matter,” hemuttered, turning away fromthe Stone Court. Perhaps animportant wizard or druidwouldwanderawayfromtheinhabited buildings. In themeantime, he could write afewnightmares.

CHAPTERSixWhere Amadi sat, Shannonsaw only darkness. Now,more than ever before, hisblindnessbothfrightenedandinfuriatedhim.

“You believe,” he said,

forcing his voice to be calm,“IpushedNoraFinnfromtheSpindleBridge?”

“I seek the truth in allplaces,” Amadi answeredevenly.

Shannon grasped thearms of his chair so hard hisfingers ached. Was heraccusation a disguised attackor an earnest attempt todiscover themurderer?Therewasnowayofknowing.

“What you’re saying is

absurd; I have no connectionto Nora’s death.” He stoodand walked to the window.“Wouldn’t I have blood onme?Nora’sormyown?”

Amadi’s chair squeakedin a way that told him shewas standing. “Magister, thebody was discovered fivehoursago.Thevillainhashadample time to concealevidence. And you areconnected to the murder—twice connected. Four days

ago, Astrophell sent acolaboris spell awardingMagistra Finn the Chair forwhich you two werecompeting.”

“SoIkilledNoratostealher honors?” He faced thewindow. “Fiery blood! Doyouthink—”

“Secondly,” Amadibroke in, “Magistra Finn’sbody was riddled with amisspell, and you are theacademy’s authority on

misspells.”“I am a linguist

researching textualintelligence.OfcourseIstudytextual corruption andrepair.”

He heard Amadi’s bootheels click against the floor.Shewascoming towardhim.“I wasn’t thinking of yourresearch—although thatprovidesathirdconnection.Iwasthinkingofyourmentallydamaged students who

misspell texts simply bytouchingthem.”

So there it was, theNorthern fear ofcacographers. He turned hishead to show her his profile.“My students aren’tdamaged,” he said in a lowtone.

“I believe you’reinnocent.”

He turned back to thewindow.

“Magister, if you help

me, I can clear your name.But I must know everythingyou know about misspellsandmisspellers.”Shepaused.“Yourreputationmakes this aperilous situation. If you’reseen as resisting myinvestigation, it will gopoorly.”

“Myreputation?”“Every spellwright in

this academy knows howimportant you were inAstrophell. More than a few

think you are bitter, perhapsparanoid. Everyone saw howfiercely you competed withFinn for academicappointments.”

“Imightbecompetitive,Amadi,butyouknowIwouldnevermurder.”

“To prove that, I needyourcooperation.”

Shannon took a deepbreath in through his nose.She was right. Resistingmight paint him with shades

ofguilt.Now,evenmoresothan

before,hehadtoshowthathehad become an innocentresearcher without politicalambition. “If I cooperate,may I continue my researchduringyourinvestigation?”

“Yes.”“What do you want to

know?”“Let’s begin with the

misspellers. Why are theyhere?” Receding footsteps

told Shannon she waswalking back to her chair.Likelyshewantedtositdownagain. He didn’t follow. Asthe junior wizard, she couldnot politely sit while hestood. He remained by thewindow.

“In Starhaven,” he said,“as in other wizardlyacademies,aspellwrightmustachievefluencyinoneofourhigher languages to earn awizard’s hood, fluency in

bothhigherlanguagestoearna grand wizard’s staff.Spellwrights who cannotlearn either may still earn alesser wizard’s hood bymastering the commonlanguages. But a few faileven this. Their touchmisspellsallbutsimpletexts.Here, in the South, we callsuch unfortunate soulscacographers.”

Amadigrunted.“It’s thesameintheNorth.Wesimply

do not name dangerousspellwrightsso.”

“InStarhaven,wedonotbelieve such students aredangerous. We do notpermanently censor magicallanguage from cacographers’minds; we permit them tofulfillwhatrolestheycan.Atpresent there are maybefifteen living in the DrumTower. All but three areundertheageoftwelve.”

“Why so many

squeakers?”“Most of the older ones

integrate themselves into theacademyaslesserwizards.”

“Isn’tthatdangerous?”“Dangerous?”

Shannon’s voice rose.“Dangerous to thecacographers? Possibly.Every so often, a text reactspoorly to their touch. Still,I’ve never seen an incidentresultinmorethanbruisesora misspelled construct. But

are cacographers dangerousto wizards? Dangerous tospellwrights fluent in one orboth of the world’s mostpowerful magicallanguages?”Hesnorted.

Shannon heard Amadi’sfeet shuffle and guessed thatshe was shiftingher weightand wishing to sit down.“Magister, this goes againstwhat I was taught, againstwhatyoutaughtme.”

He planted a hand on

either sideof thewindowsill.“Itaughtyoulongago.”

She clicked her tonguein frustration. “But I’ve readof these misspellers—cacographers, as you callthem. Many witches androgue wizards come fromtheir stock. In fact, one suchmisspeller was an infamouskiller. He was a Southerner,lived in thisacademy in fact.Now,whycan’tIthinkofhisname?”

“James Berr,” Shannonsaidsoftly.“YouarethinkingofJamesBerr.”

“Yes!”Shannon turned toward

hisformerstudent.“Berrdiedthreehundredyearsago.Youdo know at least that, don’tyou?”

Silence filled the roomfor a moment, then Amadi’schair creaked a loudcomplaintasshesatheavily.

Shannonstiffened.

“Please continue,Magister,” she saidacerbically. “What have Imisunderstood?Whatwas soterribly benign about thatmisspellingmurderer?”

Shannon turned awayand spoke in short, clippedwords. “It was an accident.OneofBerr’smisspellskilleda handful of acolytes. Headmitted guilt and theyallowed him to stay on as alow-ranking librarian. The

boywasonly trying to learn.No one would teach him, sohe experimented.Unfortunately, two yearslater,amisspellkilledseveralwizards. Berr fled into thedeep Spirish savanna anddied.”

“So cacographers aredangerous,then?”

“Not once in the threehundred years followingJames Berr has there beensuch a dangerous

cacographer. It is theNorthern fascination withmisspelling that makes yoususpect that everycacographer is a viper in thebush. A fascination, I mightadd, that has beenchampioned by the counter-prophecyfaction,muchtothedetrimentofouracademies.”

“Magister, I know youhave tangled with thecounter-prophecy leader-ship.But I would be careful what

you say. Your own provosthasspokensympatheticallyoftheir interpretation ofprophecy.”

Shannon pushed a straydreadlock from his face.“And you, Amadi, wheredoesyourallegiancelie?”

“I am a sentinel,” shereplied. “We do not play thegameoffactions.”

“Of course you don’t,”Shannonsaidcoldly.

“I did not come here to

be insulted,Magister. I cameforinformation.”Shepaused.“So, tell me, are there anyStarhaven cacographers withparticularstrengths?”

Shannon exhaledthroughhis nose and tried tocalm down. “A few.”“Andhas any cacographer learnedto spellwrite in the higherwizardlylanguages?”

Shannon turned. “Whatareyouimplying?”

“Themisspellthatkilled

Magistra Finnwaswritten inNuminous.”

Shannon stood upstraighter. “I’ll not have youtryingtoblameacacographersimply because you’ve beenfrightened by a villain whousedamisspell.”

“You were never soprotectiveofyourstudentsinAstrophell.”

He laughed dryly. “Youdidn’t need protection,Amadi. These children are

different.”“Different or not, you

can’tprotectthemfromajustinvestigation.Iaskagain:Doyou have a cacographer whocan write in the higherlanguages?”

“There is one. But hewouldnever—”

“And who,” Amadiinterrupted,“isthisboy?”

“Myapprentice.”

CHAPTERSevenBeforeNicodemus had takenfive steps away from thedruids, he began forging theDrumTower’spasswords.

Elsewhere in Starhavenstood doors that would not

open unless fed hundreds ofelaborate sentences. But theDrum Tower’s door requiredonlyonesentencewritteninacommonlanguage.

Even so, it tookNicodemus an eternity toforgethenecessarydimgreenrunes.Theyhadatexturelikecoarse, stiff cloth. As heworked, he could almost feelDeirdre’s stare jabbing intohisback.

As soon as the

passwordswerecomplete,hedropped them on the blackdoor handles. A tongue ofwhite runes flicked from thekeyhole topull them into thelock. Nicodemus waitedimpatiently for the tumblerspell todisengagethedevice.As soon as the iron boltclicked, he slipped into theentrywayandheavedthedoorshut.

“Bloodyawfulwoman!”he swore. It was a relief to

escape the druid’s questionsabout how he had failed tofulfilltheErasmineProphecy.Hopefully she wouldn’t askanywizardsabouthim.GivenwhatShannonhadsaidaboutthe Astrophell delegates,renewed wizardly interest inhiskeloidmightbemorethanembarrassing; it might bedangerous.

Heturnedandhurriedupthestairs.

The Drum Tower had

long been used to store thestronghold’semergencygraincache,heldagainstapossiblesiege.But becauseStarhavenwas too far from civilizationtotemptagreedykingdom,ithadneverneededthissurplus.Therefore no complexsecurityspellslinedtheDrumTower’s halls, and nocomplex passwords wereneededtoopenitsdoors.

For these reasons, thetower’s top floors made an

idealhomefortheacademy’smost severe cacographers,who could not spell thepasswords for the mainresidentialtowers.

However,unliketherestof Starhaven, the DrumTower had limited space.This forced the tower’smaster,MagisterShannon, tolive elsewhere and requiredthe older misspellers togovern the younger.Nicodemus shared such

caretakingdutieswithhistwofloormates.

The oldest among themwasSimple John,who as faras anyone knewcould sayonly three things: “no,”“Simple John,” and“splattering splud.” This lastwasJohn’sfavorite,whichheoften used when casting hismanysoapyjanitorialspells.

Most people wereterrified when they firstencountered John. He stood

over seven feet tall andpossessedlarge,meatyhands.Hisrednosewastoobulbous,hisbrowneyestoobeady,hishorsey teeth too big. Butanyone who looked pastJohn’s appearance could nothelp but love his gentlemannerandlopsidedsmile.

Devin Dorshear,Nicodemus’s othercacographic floormate, waslesswell loved. The acolyteshad nicknamed her

“DemonscreamDevin”.When shewas focusing,

little separated Devin from alesser wizard. However, shewouldoften stop spellwritinghalfwaythroughatexttocon-template an open window, acreaking board, a handsomewizard. This had gotten herinto many unfortunatesituations,nonehelpedbyhergift for screaming unlikelyobscenities—a talent sheeffectively wielded against

leaking inkwells, tornparchments,andthegenerallyrude.

Wizards were lessimpressed by her effusiveobscenities,andsoDevinhadlearned to curb her foulmoutharoundsuperiors.

This ishowNicodemus,as he climbed the last fewsteps, knew no one withauthoritywaspresent in theircommon room. “Ooo, youdirty son of a rat-eating butt

dog!”Devinscreamed.Therefollowedaloudcrash.

“Splattering splud!”Simple John called, laughingheartily.Another crash,moreobscenities.

Nicodemuslookeduptoheaven and said, “Not sinceLos became the first demonhastherebeensomuchchaosas now exists on the otherside of this door. Celeste,goddess, haven’t I hadenough tribulations for one

night?Perhapsyoucouldputthem to sleep. I promise toclean up whatever they’vedone.”

Crash, laughter, crash.“Drink goat piss, you slimypigeonpenis!”

Nicodemus frowned atthe closed door. “Dev, dopigeonsevenhavepenises?”

Simple John bellowed abattle cry of “SIIIIMPLEJOHN!”

Sighing, Nicodemus

opened the door and steppedinside. Immediately, hejumped back to avoid aJejunuscursethatshotpastinapinkblur.

Of the commonmagicallanguages, Jejunus was theweakest—so weak, in fact,that it was used only forteaching. It had a simplesyntax and its large pinkrunes were identical tomundane letters; this meantthat itwasalmost impossible

tomisspellandhencesafeforcacographers. Perhaps moreimportant, their soft, muddytexture made them safe tohandle.

The curse that hadmissedNicodemus’s nose byinches had read, “FIND[John’s left butt cheek] andLABELwith(I’magelatinouspoop sucker).”Nicodemusgroaned.

“Simple John!”trumpeted Simple John.

Anothercrash.Peering into the room,

NicodemussawaproudJohnholding up several sentencesthat read “ERASE [Devin’sspell].”

Thebigmanhadslippedhisarmsoutoftheslitssewnintothetopsofhissleevessoas to better see the languageforming inhisgiantmuscles.All around John layoverturned chairs andscatteredpages.

The big man forgedanother Jejunus sentence inhisbicepandslippeditdowninto his balled fist. Laughinguncontrollably,hecockedhismassive arm and with anoverhand throw cast “FINDand HIT [Devin’s right buttcheek].”

Almost faster thanNicodemus’s eyes couldfollow, the gooey pink ballshotacrosstheroom.

Devin dove behind an

overturned table, but John’scurse flewover thebarricadeand dropped into a diveattack. Devin screamedsomething—likely obscene—and popped up from behindthetable.

Like John, she hadslipped her arms out of hersleeves. From her right handextended an octopus-likespell, each tentacle of whichread, “Edit [Simple John’sincomingspell].”

John’s obscenity wascaught among the tentaclesandstruggled likeaminnow.Devincackledasshebegantoeditthecurse.

As a boy, Nicodemushad loved Jejunus cursingmatches. He had hurledhandfuls of dirty words withhis classmates, had relishedflicking obscenities intorivals’ faces, had giggleduncontrollably when filthylanguage had splattered onto

anotherchild’sback.But that had been long

ago, before the wizards hadmoved him into the DrumTower.

“HEY!” he boomed.Both combatants looked athim. “WHAT IN THEBURNING HELLS ISGOINGONHERE?”

Even thoughNicodemuswastheyoungestofthethreeby thirty years, he had longago assumed the roles of

housekeeper anddisciplinarian.

Perhaps mistakingNicodemus’s anger forirritation at being excluded,Simple John cast “FIND[Nicodemus’s ear] andSOUND (a sick donkeyfarting).”

Nicodemus quicklywrote “FIND and ERASE[anyspell]”inthebackofhishandandflickedthespellintothe air. It careened into

John’s curse and knockedboth texts out of existencewith a wet pop. If needed,Nicodemus could flood theroom with similar censoringtexts.

“What do you thinkyou’re doing?” Nicodemusbarked. “What if one of theyounger cacographers hadwalkedinjustnow?We’dbein a fine state then. There’dbe cursing matches up anddown the tower until spring.

Orwhat if a wizard hadstopped by? With theconvocationon,therepercus-sionswouldbehorrible.”

The other cacographersfell silent. Simple Johnswallowedhissmileandhunghishead.

“What’s it to you,Nico?” Devin sneered.“Afraid Shannon’ll find out?Afraid the oldmanwon’t letyou teach your preciousclass?”

“Devin,” Nicodemussaid, leveling his gaze at theshort redhead, “how manypenitences do you have leftforthefloodedprivyprank?”

Sheglaredathim.“Don’t you see that our

place in Starhaven is notsecure?AsMagisterShannonjust reminded me, ourdisability puts an extraburden on us. And we allknowthat inotheracademiescacographersaren’ttreatedso

well. Astrophell censorsmagical languageoutoftheircacographers.”

“As if that would be sobad, to leave this place,”Devingroused.

“Well excuse me, mylady. I was unaware of yournoble blood.” Nicodemusdipped into a mock bow.“Becausethat’swhatit’dtaketo find a life as comfortableandsafeaswehavehere.Asanilliterate,youmightendup

a scullerymaid, but think ofJohn.Howwouldhegetby?”

“No,” Simple Johnprotestedsoftly.

Devin lowered her eyesand dropped her spell. Anuncomfortable momentpassed.

In the awkward silence,Nicodemus felt a slowsinking sensation. Could hecall his floormates recklesswhen, only an hour ago, hehad misspelled a library

gargoyle? If caught, hismistakewouldhavedamagedthe reputation ofcacographers far more thanthe discovery of a simplecursingmatch.

“Dev, John, I’m sorry,”hesaidinasoftertone.“Ihada rough night in the libraryand disappointed Shannon.He’s worried about some ofthe convocation’s delegates.It might even be dangerousfor us to be seen

misspelling.”Neither of the other

cacographersspoke.Johnwaslooking at his boots, Devinscowlingattheceiling.

“I’ll help clean up,”Nicodemussaidwearily.

They worked silently.Simple John righted thetables while the other twoshifted chairs and retrievedthe pages strewn about thefloor. Twice Nicodemus sawDevin and Simple John

smirking at each other, butwhen they noticed himwatchingtheyjumpedbacktowork.

When finished,Nicodemussnuffedthetapersandtrudgedintohisbedroom.Itwas cold for the first timesincelastspring.Autumnwasgrowingold.

He forged the ignitionwords and tossed them intothe small fireplace. A sparkspellcaughtthetextandthen

setthekindlingaflame.Lightflickeredacross the modestchamber and Nicodemus’sfew possessions: a sleepingcot, a desk, two chests, awashstand,achamberpot.

Underthebedsatastackof mundane books. AmongthemwasaknightlyromancehehadboughtfromaLornishpeddler. The fellow hadpromised that this particularromance, The Silver Shield,wasthebestoneyet.

Nicodemus’s love forknightlyromancessometimesfollowed him into his sleep.Since he had arrived inStarhaven, Nicodemus hadspent countless hoursimagining night terrors topopulatethenearbyforest.Inboth his dreams at night anddaydreams,hewouldventureout tovanquish the imaginedmonsters.

Hesmilednow,thinkingof the strangeantagonistshis

young mind had imagined.Urowasagiantinsectwithaspiked carapace andscythelike hands. Tamelkan,the sightless dragon,possessed tentacles that grewfromhis chin.Andof coursethere was Garkex, thefiretroll, who spouted flamefromhisthreehornsandfierycursesfromhismouth.

Dreaming of monstersand battles was a childishpleasure, Nicodemus knew,

but itwas one of the few hehadknown.

Looking at the bookagain, he sighed. His eyesweretoowearytoread.

He flopped onto his cotandbegantountiehisrobeatthebackofhisneck.Hishaircouldusebrushing.

He was looking aroundforhiscombwhen thesoundofflappingwingscametohiswindow.He turned to regarda large bird with vivid blue

plumage. Bright yellow skinshone around her black eyesand hooked beak. “Corn,”croaked the bird in herscratchyparrotvoice.

“Hello, Azure. I don’tkeep corn in my room. DidMagisterShannongiveyouamessageforme?”

The bird cocked herheadtooneside.“Scratch.”

“All right, but themessage?”

The bird hopped onto

the cot and waddled over toNicodemus. Using her beakto grab onto his robes, thefamiliar pulled herself ontohis lap and presented the topof her head to be scratched;Nicodemusobliged.

“Azure, the messagefromMagisterisimportant.”

The bird whistled twonotesbeforecastingabarrageofgolden sentences fromherheadtoNicodemus’s.

Languages like

Numinous, which couldmanipulate light and othertext, were often used toencodewrittenmessages.Thespell thatAzurehad justcastwasonesuch.

The problem was thatNuminous had a complexstructure, and so acacographer’s touchmisspelled all but thesimplestNuminoussentences.That is why Nicodemus hadto work quickly to translate

Shannon’s message.Thelongerheheld the text inhismind, the fasterhisdisabilitywoulddistortitsspelling.

Numinous runespossessed fluid shapesresembling tendrils of smokeor threads of spun glass.Translating them made aspellwright’sfingersfeelasifthey were touching smoothglass. As he worked,Nicodemus’sfingerstwitchedwithphantomsensation.

Shannon’s message wascomplicated, and whenNicodemus finishedtranslating,itwasgarbled:

Nicodemus—Do n’t discuss

tonight’s conversaton w/anyone, incldngroomates.V.importanttoatractlittelattn. As planed, come tomy study direclty afterbrecfast. You are excusedfrom aprentice duty four

theday.—Mg.Shannon

Azure presented theback of her head again.“Scratch?”

Nicodemus absentlystroked the bird’s feathers.Shannon’s instruction toavoid attention wasworrisome. Nicodemus didnot know what wasprompting the old man’svigilance, but he had no

doubtthatitwasserious.“Sweet heaven, the

druids,” Nicodemuswhispered,rememberinghowhis attempt to impressDeirdrehadelicitedabarrageof questions about prophecyand his disability. “Magisterisgoingtokillme.”

“Scratch?” Azurerepeated.

Nicodemuslookeddownand realized that in hisdistraction he had stopped

petting the familiar. “I’msorry,Azure.I’mexhausted.”It was true—his eyes stung,hisbonesached,his thoughtsseemedslowaspinesap.“I’dbetter sleep if I’m going tohelpMagistertomorrow.”

“Scratch?”“Maybetomorrow.”Finally convinced that

she was not going to bepetted,Azurehoppedover tothe window. She made hertwo-notewhistle and flapped

awayintothenight.Blinkinghiswearyeyes,

Nicodemus went to thewashstand and, rubbing hishands together, forged thesmall white runes wizardsused for soap. Looking intohis polished-metalmirror, hewas shocked to see twopinksentences written across hisforehead.

Atfirstascowldarkenedhisface,butthenhelaughed.

She must have written

some witty prose indeed tosneak the Jejunus curse ontohimwithouthisnoticing.

Carefulnottotripinthedim firelight, Nicodemusstepped through thecommonroomtoDevin’sdoor.Mutedvoices came from the otherside.Heknockedandwalkedin.

Simple John and Devinwere sitting on her bedplaying cat’s cradle, John’sfavorite.Theylookedup.

“This was well done,”Nicodemus said whilegesturing tohis foreheadandthepinkwordsthatread:

IHateFun.ButILOVEDonkeyPiss!

AFTER DEVIN HAD disspelledthe curse from Nicodemus’sforehead,thethreefloormatesgossiped about othercacographersandapprentices:

whomightbepromoted,whowassneakingintowhosebed,thatsortofthing.

Though still exhausted,Nicodemuswashappytostayupwithhisfriendsandforgetabout druids and Astrophelldelegates and the othernebulous dangers the nighthadpresented.

Astheytalked,JohnandNicodemus played cat’scradle while Devin brushedout Nicodemus’s long raven

hair.“Why in heaven’s

name,” she grumbled, “didthe Creator waste such soft,glossystuffonaman.”

Afterward she started tobraid her own wiry red hair.“You know,” she said, “I’venever been sure why all themagical societies have tosend delegates to theseconvocations.”

“There’sneverbeenonein Starhaven before?”

Nicodemus asked withoutlookingup from thegameofcat’scradle.

“Not since I’ve beenhere.Theyonlyhappenonceevery thirty years, and theyhave to rotate throughall theother libraries andmonasteriesorwhatever.”

Nicodemus chewed hislip. “Well, I don’t know allthe details about why theconvocationshappen,but—”

“—but you’ve

memorized everythingShannon’s ever said aboutthem,”Devininterjectedwithaleer.

He stuck his tongue outat her and continued. “So,backduringtheDialectWars—when theNeosolarEmpirewas falling and the newkingdoms were forming—spellwrights would join thefighting. The result was sobloody that the peoplecouldn’t protect themselves

from the lycanthropes orkobolds or whatever. For awhile, it seemed there mightnotbeanyhumansleft,soallthe magical societies signedtreaties agreeing never againto take part in the wars thatkingdomsfought.”

Devin grunted. “And sonow all magical societieshavetorenewtheirtreatiesattheseconventionsorwe’llallend up in lycanthropebellies?”

Nicodemus shrugged.“Something like that. It’scomplicated. Some societiescheat. I think MagisterShannon was involved instopping the wizards andhierophants from clashing inthe Spirish Civil War. ButI’m not sure; he never talksaboutthewar.”

SimpleJohn tried tosay“Simple John” but yawnedinstead.Nicodemusendedthegameofcat’scradleandsent

thebigman lumberingoff tobed.

Nicodemus started forhis own room but thenstopped at Devin’s door.“Dev, when should I askShannon about teachingagain? With the convocationhappening, things areprobablytoobusy.”

Shewastappingherchinwith the end of her braid.“Actually, the busierwizardsare, the more they want to

unload their teaching dutiesonto apprentices.But it’s notMagister you need toconvince. It’s the otherwizards who gripe when acacographergetsinfrontofaclassroom.”

Nicodemus nodded andthought about what it wouldfeel like to finally earn ahood. Then he rememberedsomething. “Dev, have youever worked with MagisterSmallwood?”

“That sweet old linguistwho’sgotlesscommonsensethan a drunken chicken?Yeah, I used to runShannon’s messages to himback when you were stilltrying to undress that AmyHern girl. Do you ever hearfromher?”

Nicodemus folded hisarms. “I don’t, but nevermind that. I had aconversationwithSmallwoodtoday.Nothingimportant.But

hesaidIwasShannon’s‘newcacographic project’ or hisnew ‘pet cacographer.’ Doyouknowif therearecurrentrumors going around aboutMagister?”

Devindroppedherbraidand hopped out of bed.“Ignore it. Smallwood’s justbeing a ninny.” She went toher washstand and began toscrubherface.“Sowhatclassdoyouwanttoteach?”

“Anything to do with

composition. But you’reavoiding my question. WhataretherumorsaboutShannonand‘petcacographers’?”

Devin toweled her face.“Just academics gossipingandbeingpetty.”

“Dev, not once in thepastnineyearshaveIknownyou to refrain fromgossiping.”

“So let’s gossip. I’dforgotten about Amy Hern.She left for Starfall, right?

Why don’t you write her onthenextcolaborisspell?”

Nicodemus waited forDevin to finish drying herface.“Dev,therumors.”

She examined his face.“Notnow,Nico;it’slate.”

“I’m not going toforget.”

“No.” She sighed. “Youwon’t.”

CHAPTEREightTheGimhurstTowerstoodatthe southern edge ofStarhaven’s inhabitedquarters. Long ago, duringtheLornishoccupation,ithadhosted the Lord Governor’s

court. Now, save for thescriptorium at its top, theplacewasabandoned.

With Azure perched onhis shoulder, Shannon stoledown the tenth floor’s outerhallway.Throughtheparrot’seyes, he regarded the palemoonbeams that slantedthrough the windows andsplashed against the slatefloors. The reflected glow litthe hallway’s opposite wallanditsmanysculptedpanels.

The low-relief carvingspresented typical Lornishsensibility—bold andgraceful figures without finedetail.

Slowly Shannon passedcarved knights, serpents, andseraphs—these last wreathedwithtatteredgoldleafhalos.

A half hour before,Azure had returned to hisstudy after delivering hismessage to Nicodemus. Shehad seen nothing unusual on

the rooftops. This had onlyincreased Shannon’s anxietyfor information and soprompted his currentexpedition.

To his left a spacebetweentwopanelspresenteda short, wooden door.Shannon placed Azure on awindowsill opposite andinstructed her to send awarning if anyone appeared.Arook’scroakingvoicecamefrom somewhere out in the

night. He turned back to thedoor. Behind it lay NoraFinn’s“privatelibrary.”

Manyacademics,rightlydistrustful of their peers, hidtheir most importantmanuscripts inwell-defendedsecret archives. Maintainingsuch “private libraries”violated scores of academybylaws, but the practice wassowidespreadthatnodeanorprovost dared enforce any ofthoselaws.

Fiftyyearsago, anewlyarrived Shannon hadsuspected Nora of spying onhim for his enemies in theNorth. He had been brashthen, still accustomed toAstrophell’s infighting, andso had secretly pried intoevery aspect of Nora’s life.His search had disproved hissuspicionsanduncovered thelocation of this privatelibrary.

Slowly Shannon ran his

finger down the door beforehim.Blindnesspreventedhimfrom seeing the pine boardsthat felt so hard under hisfingers.

Thiswasjustaswell;theboards weren’t really there.They were subtexts—prosecrafted to elude even thetrained eye. Mostspellwrights struggled togleansubtextsifonlybecausethey believed their eyes.When encountering a door’s

texture or image, a humanmind rarely accepted anyconclusionotherthanthatthedoor existed. Only withknowledge of the author’spurpose could a reader hopeto see past a subtext’ssemblance to its truemeaning.

Shannon, however, wasfree of vision’s tyranny. Hestared into the dark beforehimandconsideredhowNorawould have written the

subtext.Firstshewouldhavechosen a primary language.Numinous was the obviouschoice—it possessed theability to create illusions bybending light. To the spell’scentral passages, Nora musthave added a few Magnusparagraphs to provide aphysical barrier and givetexturetotheillusion.

After choosing herlanguages, Nora would havechosen particular sentence

structuresanddiction tohelpherhidethespell.

Shannon ruminated onNora’sprosestyle.Ashedidso,hesawfaintgoldenrunesfloat downward in orderedcolumns. Now he deducedwhatmustbewrittenbetweenthe lines.The faint sentencesbrightened. Slowly the text’scentral argument revealeditself, and Shannon gazedupon a door-shapedwaterfallof golden prose interlaced

withsilversentences.Out of habit, he undid

the silver and gold buttonsthatrandownhissleeves.Hiseyes could now see throughcloth, but it still felt morenatural to spellwrite witharmsbare.

Once ready, he wrote ashort disspell in his rightforearmandslippeditintohishand. This disspell, thoughcomposed of powerfulNuminous runes, was thin

and delicate. Lesser authorswouldhavecraftedtheirmostpowerful disspell and hackedthrough the door-subtext likea peasant chopping a treetrunk. Such a crude stylewould have produced amangledsubtext.

Shannon had spent toomany decades sharpening hisprose to leave behind suchobviousevidence.

With the disspellcomplete, Shannon drew the

textfromhispalmsoitcouldfold into its properconformation. This done, hewroteabriefhandleonto theblade.

Then, holding thedisspell as if it were apaintbrush,heleanedforwardand chivvied its cutting edgebetween two of the door’ssentences.With slow, patientpressure he teased apart thesubtext’s outer sentences toreveal its knotted central

passage. Two quick strokessplitoneofitsparagraphs.

With a high grindingwhine, the door’s goldensentences began to churn asthey detected the intrusionandsoughttoclampdownonShannon’shand.

But with calmdetermination, he edited twonewNuminoussentencesintothe split paragraph. Thegrinding sound died and thesubtextquieted.

With steady pinchingmotions,hedarnedthecentralpassage. As his hand slowlywithdrew, the glassysentences flowed back intotheiroriginalconformation.

A smile curledShannon’s lips. The arch-chancellor himself wouldn’tknow the subtext had beenedited. The door clickedsoftly as it unlocked andswung open. Behind it stooda small space filled with the

multichromatic gleam of amagicallibrary.

Shannon cast a quickspell to Azure asking if shehadseenanything.Theparrotanswered negatively andcomplained of the late hour.Smiling at her snappishness,Shannon left her on thewindowsill to keep lookoutand then stepped intoNora’sprivate library.Hewouldnotneedmundanevision in suchatextualenvironment.

Itwasasmallspace:fivefeet wide, ten deep. ThoughShannon could not see thebookshelves that lined thewalls,herecognizedmanyofthe texts theyheld.Norahadbeen studying textualexchanges betweenStarhaven’s gargoyles—asubject that provided insightinto how magical constructslearned and thought.Shannon’s research alsofocused on textual

intelligence; as a result, hepossessed many of the samebooks that Nora had in herprivatelibrary.

One unfamiliar codexattractedhis eye. It lay aloneat the back of the room,apparently on a low shelf orchest.Carefullyhesteppedtothelibrary’sendandretrievedthemanuscript.ItwasNora’spersonalresearchjournal.

He flipped through thefirst few pages. Here lay a

detailed study of howgargoyles selectedinformation to share witheach other. If he could takethisbooktohisstudyforjustone hour, his own researchwould leap forward. He hadmadeanynumberofoffhandremarks to other wizardsabout how much he shouldliketoperuseNora’snotes.

Virtue briefly foughtambition in his heart. “I’llregret this tomorrow,” he

grumbled as morality forcedhim to continue to flipthrough the book rather thantake itaway.Toward itsend,he found a personal journalwithdatedentries.

The majority werecomplaints about librarians,apprentices, colleagues.Twice he scowled atdisparaging remarks about“thatblusteringShannon.”

It wasn’t until hereached a date eleven years

past that an entry lifted hiseyebrows: “Missive fromSpirishnoble.Wanted‘toseehissleepingboy.’Hisfather?Boy new to D.Tower.Paymentingoldsovereigns.”

The next winter, Norahad written, “Spirish masterto see sleeping boy inD.Tower.” Two days later,“Spirishpayment.”

“Los’sfieryblood!Norawas in a noble’s purse?”Shannon whispered. The

bribing of wizards wasrampant in Astrophell andStarfallKeep.ButStarhaven,astheonlyacademyremovedfrom the human kingdoms,had known little of suchcorruption.

Shannon wondered ifhe’d become soft. Despitecompeting academicallywithNora, he had stoppedinvestigating her privateaffairs—something he wouldhave found unthinkable in

Astrophell.He reread the journal

entries. The “D.Tower”clearlywas theDrumTower.Butwhywouldsomeonepayto see a sleeping boy? Itseemed that Nora hadsupposed the man to be hisfather.

Shannon frowned at thephrase “Boy new toD.Tower” and thought aboutwhich cacographers hadmoved into the Drum Tower

elevenyearsago.A sudden chill ran

throughhisveins.Nicodemuswastheonlyone.

Worse,thatwastheyearthe academy had judgedNicodemus’s cacography tobe proof that he wasn’t theHalcyon.

“Creator be merciful,”Shannon whispered. Perhapsthe academy had misjudgedNicodemus’s connection totheErasmineProphecy.Ifso,

then thesewere the last daysbeforetheWarofDisjunction—the final battle to savehuman language fromdemoniccorruption.

Shannon continued toflip through the book. Twomore entries, each four yearsapart, read “Master to seeboy” and were followed by“SpirishPayment.”Thefinalentry, dated two days ago,read “Master’s msgconfused? No meeting but

StrangeDreamsaboutsuch.”Whoever had been

bribing Nora had changedhowhewastomeether.Hadhe then pushed her off theSpindleBridge?

Shannonturnedthefinalpage and drew a suddenbreath.Writtenhastily acrossthe page was a sharplyworded spell. The dangeroustext shone with the brilliantsilverylightofMagnus.

On their flat sides,

Magnusruneswereashardassteel;ontheiredges,sharpasrazors. Depending on theirconformation, a Magnussentence could become anearly unbreakable rope or adeadly blade. Even a casualMagnus attack spell couldkill, and the one beforeShannonwasfarfromcasual.He had not seen suchlinguisticweaponry since theSpirishCivilWar.

“Burningheaven,Nora,”

he swore while closing thejournal. “What viper’s nestdidyouwanderinto?”

He reached down totouch the wood that theresearch journal had lainupon. Itwasabedchest.Hishands felt around the objectandfounditunlocked.

The hinges creaked asthe lid opened. His fingersfelt for the chest’scontentsand found coins of anunmistakable weight. There

was enough gold to buy aLornishcastle.

After closing the chest,he stood and tried to thinksystematically. Nora hadattached herself to anexceedingly wealthynonacademic, one whowanted to see a sleepingDrum Tower boy, beginningjust when Nicodemus hadbeen declared a cacographer.That implied, but did notprove, that Nicodemus was

the one Nora’s masterwanted.

Shannon also knew thatNora’s master was either aSpirish noble or hadconvincedNorathathewas.

Shannon blinked. Theonly Drum Tower boydescended from SpirishnobilitywasNicodemus.

This still did not provethat Nora had been sellingaccess to Nicodemus, but itmadeithighlyprobable.And

if the academy had beenwrong and Nicodemus wasindeed connected to theErasmineProphecy…

“Heaven defend us all,”Shannon whispered andturned to leave the library,butashemovedsomeinstinctstoppedhim.

As before, the corridorof spellbooks appeared as awall of multicolored light tohis magically sensitive eyes,whilethemundaneworldwas

blacktohim.Hehadreceivedno warning from Azure, norhad he heard anythingunusual. But somehow, heknew.

“Who’s there?” hewhispered.

At first only silenceansweredhim.Butthencameaslowintakeofbreathandalow, crackling voice: “Writenot a sentence,” it raspedbefore drawing anotherbreath, “or you’ll eat your

words.”

SHANNON DID NOT move.Nora’s research journal wasstillinhishands.

“Lay the book down,”thevoicesaid,“slowly.”

Shannon bent over toobey,butjustbeforedroppingthecodexhelethishandsslipso thatheheldonly thebackcover.He set it on the floor.“You are Nora’s murderer?”heaskedandstraightened.

“The shrew killedherself before I had thechance.” A grunt. “It’s arecurring problem for me. Ikilled my master before henamedtheboy.Iwon’tmakethesamemistakewithyou.”

Shannon tried todiscernwhere the voice was comingfrom. “Your master was thenoble who paid to see thesleepingcacographer?”

There came anotherwhistling inhalation and a

short, dry laugh. “So the oldbeastreplenishedtheemeraldwhen the boy was asleep?Yes, it was he who had anagreement with MagistraFinn. One she didn’t renewwith me for…squeamishreasons.”

Shannon narrowed hiseyes. The room’s echomadeit difficult to guess themurderer’s location.“Squeamish because you’renothuman?”

“Howcouldyoutell?”“You inhale only before

speaking,” Shannon repliedas calmly as he could. “Therestofusfindthatdifficult.”

The creature laughed.“Full marks for acumen,Magister. I am not human,nor was master. Though hecould fool your kind intothinkingso.”

“The subtextualizationof your prose is impressive.Whichfactionwroteyou?”

The creature laughedlouder. “Perhaps I spoke toosoon about your acumen. Iam not a construct, nor do Icare a whit for the wizardlyfactions.”

“You’reademon,then?”“Notademoneither,but

I don’t have time for this.What matters now is yourname. My guess is that youareMagisterAgwuShannon,MasteroftheDrumTower.Ifso,Ihaveanofferforyou.”

“I am MagisterShannon,” he replied slowly.“AndI’mafraidImightshareNora’ssqueamishness.”

“I’d rather the boylived,” the voice croaked.“Thestrongerheis,themoreI gain from the emerald. I’mtelling you this so you canunderstand how…lucrative itwould be to align yourselfwith me. Tell me the boy’sname and you and I mightcontinue as master and Nora

Finndid.Letmevisittheboywhen he’s sleeping—as youputit—andI’llpayyoutwiceFinn’s wages. Refuse and Iwill kill you now. What’smore, I’ll cripple the boy orbe forced to kill himoutright.”

Shannon swallowedhard. He had not consideredthatNicodemus’slife,aswellashisown,mightendtonight.

“You care for the boy,”the voice observed wryly.

“More than I can say aboutthe grammarian. She caredforwhatheis,notwho.”

“And what is he? Is hethe one of the ErasmineProphecy?”

The murderer grunted.“Few things are moreannoyingthanignorance.”

Shannon laughed “Andyet you are ignorant of theboy’sname.”

“I might not know hisname, but I will kill every

male cacographer in thisacademy to find him. I canwield dreams as you mightwield a net. So unless youwant every boy in the DrumTower murdered, you’llacceptmyoffer.”

Shannon glanced downatNora’sresearchjournal.Itsback cover lay open. Thegrammarian’ssharplywordedspell glowed on the exposedpage.

“Do you need more

incentive?” the voice asked.“There are rewards brighterthangold.Withtheemerald,Iam master of LanguagePrime. I could tell you howtheCreatormade humanity.”There was a pause. “You doknow what Language Primeis,don’tyou?”

Shannon respondedautomatically. “LanguagePrimeisblasphemy.”

A dry laugh. “Magister,you lack conviction! You

must know that theoriginallanguage exists. Interesting.What might your connectionto the first language be? Icouldteachyoumore.”

Shannonshookhishead.“Villain, you have no spellwritten, no attack ready. Mysynaesthetic reaction is verysensitive. I would have feltyouforging.”

There came a shufflingnoise. “True; I haven’t a textready, nor can I spellwrite

withinStarhaven’swalls.TheChthonics filled this placewith too many metaspells.Butit’snotwordswithwhichIthreatenyou;it’sahalffootof sharpened iron I’ll drivethroughyourskullbeforeyoucanextemporizetwowords.”

Themurdererwas right.Shannoncouldnotdashoffaspellintime.

“Enough banter,” thecreature hissed. “You canaccept my offer or force me

tokilleveryboyin—”Shannon dove to the

floor. Something whistledabovehisheadandstruckthewallbehindhimwithaclang.He grabbed hold of theMagnus spell inNora’sbookandpulled.

Thewartextleapedfromthepageintoaneffulgenceofsilver runes.Shannondidnotknowthespell’snameorhowto wield it, so he blindlythrewhisarmout toward the

voice. The text uncoiled intoa long, liquid lashandstruckwithserpentinequickness.

The murderer cried outwith surprise as the silverytext struck a bookshelf. Thespell cut through severalleather-bound codices with aloudrippingsound.

Withablastofair, eachsevered spellbook explodedinto a blazing nimbus ofsentence fragments. Shannonflinched, the brilliance

dazzling his text-sensitiveeyes.

Then the murderer wason top of him. The universebecame a seething blacknessof elbows and knees as theyrolled over one another. Ahand was trying to pull theMagnusspellfromShannon’shand, and then a hard objectcut a line of pain across hisforehead.

Yawping savagely,Shannonjerkedhisrighthand

freeandwhippedtheMagnusspell around. It cut thoughsomethingwithasoftswish.

Instantly the weightlifted from Shannon’s chest.The room filled with a high,keening scream. WhenShannon sat up, a page ofgolden text shot toward him.He recognized the page asbelonging to Nora’s researchjournal the instant before itsmashed into his nose. Themurderer must have struck

himwiththebook.Suddenly he was on his

backandstrugglingtogetup.His head felt full of cottonand his ears were ringing.Deconstructing sentencefragments coated every inchof the private library’s floorand walls. The fragmentswere squirming, spinning,andleapingintotheair.

Beyond the chaos,ShannonsawNora’sresearchjournal flying away into a

patch of darkness that mustbe thehallway.The inhumanscreambegantofade.

Slowly he realizedwhathe was seeing: the murdererhad takenNora’s journal andfled.

All around Shannon thedeconstructing fragmentsbegan to burst. Each smallexplosion flung phrasesacross the room. The sharplanguage cut into his mindand body with hot shards of

pain.Desperately, Shannon

felt around the floor for anyclue as to why the murdererhad fled. His fingers foundsomething long and partiallysurrounded by cloth. Hepicked up the strange objectandranoutofthelibrary.

Behind him thedecomposingsentencesbeganto tear open the otherspellbooks. Soon they wouldspill their contents into the

growing textual storm.Shannon pulled thesubtextualizeddoorshut.

Thehallwaywentblack.Shannon could hear thedeconstructing literaturecrackle and hiss behind thesubtext.

But he was safe now.The chaotic language, left inthe private library, woulddeconstructintonothing.

Something wet and hotwas running down his face.

Blood.Hewas still holding the

mysterious cloth-coveredobject. Perhaps Azure couldlookatitforhim.

Azure!Fear tore into his gut.

What had themurderer donetohisfamiliar?

“Azure!” he calledhoarsely. “Azure!” He hadturned and was runningblindly, arm stretched out.Hishandstruckawallandhe

nearlyfell.Therecameafaintwhistlefrombehind.

Hespunaroundandsawwith intense relief a coil ofNuminous censoring textslying onwhat he assumed tobe the windowsill. Themurderer had bound the birdmagically but had not killedher. The villain must haveknown hurting Azure wouldhave made recruiting himimpossible.

Shannon hurried to pick

upthecensoredbird.Inherfear,Azurebithis

pinky hard enough to drawblood.ButShannonwouldn’thavecaredifshehadsnappedhis finger in two. Cooingsoftly, he unwound thecensoring texts from thebird’shead.

Oncehermindwasfree,Azurecasttohimadelugeofterrifiedtext:awhite-cloakedfigure appearing in thehallway and a blazing

Numinous spell that camefrom outside the tower toenvelophermind.

It seemed odd that themurderer had written thecensoring text to strike fromoutside the tower; thenShannon remembered thething’sclaimthatitcouldnotspellwrite within Starhaven’swalls.

“Los damn it, but whatcould the creature be?” hehissed while scooping Azure

up as if she were a loaf ofbread.

In his left hand, he stillgripped the strange cloth-coveredobjecthehadpickedupintheprivatelibrary.

On trembling legs andlooking through Azure’seyes, he hurried down theGimhurst Tower. His breathbecameraggedasheranintoStarhaven’sinhabitedquarter.

Twice, mangy catsscattered before him. He did

not slow until flickeringtorches appeared along thewalkways. Only then did hetake the time to look athimselfthroughAzure’seyes.

The deconstructingsentence fragments had tornholes in his robes and cutsmall bloody lines into hishands and face. Moreshocking was the gash thatslanted down his left brow.Twoofhissilverydreadlockshad been cut by whatever

bladehadmadethatwound.After hurrying through

several buildings and acrossthe Grand Courtyard,Shannon reached theErasmine Spire. Thankfullythere were no other wizardsabout to see him trot up thestairsandintohisstudy.

Still panting, he setAzureonthebackofhischairand thestrangecloth-coveredobject on his writing desk.Though she still sent him

frightened memories of theattack, Azure was beginningtocalmdown.

Shannon cast a fewflameflyparagraphsabovehisdesk.Once therewasenoughlight, he coaxed Azure intostanding on his shoulder.Aftersayingabriefprayer tothe Creator, he turnedAzure’s eyes to the strangeobject he had taken fromNora’slibrary.

At first he could not

understand what he wasseeing.

It lay on his desk,wrappedinwhatwasleftofawhite sleeve. He must havecut it off with the Magnusspell.

Slowly, tentatively, heturnedthethingover.

Ithadbeendetachedjustabove the elbow joint. Therewas no blood. Its curledfingerswereperfect,downtothehairsgrowingontheback

ofthethumb.“Heaven defend us,”

Shannonwhispered in shock.“The days of prophecy areuponus!”

Patches of the objectseemed to be made of paleskin.Butevenashewatched,these slowly darkened intoclay.

Save for this strangefact, the thing was an exactreplica of a man’s severedforearm.

CHAPTERNineNicodemus mounted the lastfew steps to stand pantingbefore a tower door. It wasidentical to the one he hadseen in his dream thepreviousnight.

Contrary to hisexpectations of danger andintrigue, the day had beenlong and tiresome, full ofbusywork for MagisterShannon’sresearch.Momentsearlier he had wolfed downhis dinner so that he couldfind a view of the sunset hehad seen in his sleep. It hadbeen a strange dream—onethatdidnotfadeafterwakingbutgrewmorevivid.

Hepulled thedooropen

to reveal a narrow stonebridge and, beyond, theErasmine Spire. The sunsetbathedtheSpireinvermillionlight.

Nicodemus smiled andstepped outside; now hewouldhavetimetositonthebridge and read the knightlyromance tucked under hisarm. A warm breeze pickedupasheturnedwestward.

Starhaven was builthalfway up the Pinnacle

Mountains. From a distancethe stronghold’s crenellatedwalls and massive gatehousemadeitlooksomethinglikeagreat Lornish castle. Butunlike a castle, Starhavenpossessed a forest of towers,each an impossibility ofheight. The mightiest amongthem—the Erasmine Spire—stoodso tall that fromits topan observer could peer downonthePinnacleMountains.

Even fromNicodemus’s

present height, halfway up alessertower,hecouldseeformiles. Tan patchwork fieldsofsmallfarmsdottedthenearlandscape. Away from thesehomesteads,lushoaksavannaspreadouttothehorizon.

ToNicodemus, the longviewmadethebridgeanidealspot for dreaming andreading.

He smiled again as heopened his knightly romanceand heard the familiar creak

of a new spine. The pagessmelledlikechildhood.

Nicodemus’ssmilegrewsad. He would like to sit onthe bridge all evening. Butsoonhewouldhavetoreturnto his chores. He lookedeastward across Starhaven tothe abandoned ChthonicQuarter.Already the eveningair above the flat-toppedtowerswasfillingwithbats.

Whatastrangesight theChthonic people must have

been, Nicodemus thought.Some stories described themas childlike creatures withbulbous eyes and teeth likeneedles. Others spoke ofclawed monsters witharmoredplates covering theirskin.

Nicodemus lookedbeyondtheChthonicQuarter.Onlyafewsliversofsunlightfound their way throughStarhaven’s myriad towers.Most such columns of light

landedon themountains, butjust then one illuminated theSpindleBridge,whicharchedbetween the stronghold andthenearestcliffface.

All other Starhavenbridges were wafer-thintestaments to Chthonicstonework. But the Spindlewasathick,roundaffair,likethe bough of an enormoustree. Nicodemus leanedforward.

Even from his present

distance, he could see thedesigns the Chthonic peoplehad scored into themountain’s face. To the leftof the Spindle were outlinesof ivy leaves; to the right ageometric pattern—threesquat hexagons stacked oneatop another and flanked bytwotallerhexagons.

The carvings made himthink of the fabled HeavenTree Valley. Some storiessaid theChthonicpeoplehad

escaped theNeosolarEmpireby following the SpindleBridge to a valley where theflowers bloomed as large aswindmillsandthemushroomsgrew as wide as paviliontents.Withasigh,Nicodemuslookeddownathisbook.

Buthecouldnotfindthebook.

In his hands sat a lumpofbloodyclay.

With a cry, Nicodemusdropped the wet mass. It

struck the bridge stoneswitha plop.He tried to step backbut his legs wouldn’t move,nor would his arms. Theblood and clay blackeneduntilitseemedtobemadeofthenight’sstarrysky.

Slowly, the dark masscrept onto Nicodemus’s feet.Theoilcoatedhisanklesandmade them dissolve. He felllikeatoppledstatue.

Hisjawstruckthebridgestones, mashing his molars

down on his tongue. Saltybloodfilledhismouth.

He shrieked as he feltthe oil spreading up his legs,his torso, his neck. The skywent black and descendedlikeasheet.Hisskinbegantorotintolargegrayscales.Thebridge stones trembled andthendissolvedintowavesthatstretched out to the horizonandbecametheocean.

Blood seeped frombetween the patches of

Nicodemus’s skin. Boneseruptedfromhisbacktoformwings. His throat convulsedand then stretched out. Hisrotting skin hardened intorubicundscales.

And then Nicodemuswas aloft, pushing his wingsdownthroughthickoceanair.Before him flourished thedawn’s golden effulgence.Buthewassomethingbrighterstill. If others could see himnow, then all would bask in

the splendor of his broadchest, golden eyes, ivoryteeth. His tail shook like astreamerintheair.

On the horizon, a darkstrip of land emerged andbecame an urban silhouette.Nicodemus had never seenthe place before but knew itwell. The city encrusted ahalf-moon bay like a scabaround a sore.Further inlandstood five hills. Even fromthis distance, Nicodemus

could see the citadel’scrumbling marble walls.Behind and above thismemoryoftheancientworld,the Neosolar Palace toweredhigh, its magically polishedbrass reflecting the redsunrise.

Suddenly the worldfroze. Nicodemus, wingsoutstretched, hung perfectlystill in the air. Somehow hehad become more than oneperson. He was now an old

fisherman looking up fromthe harbor at the strangeflyingcreature.Hewasalsoabeggargirlgazingupfromanalley at a cube of solidblacknesshoveringinthesky.Andyethewasalsoayoungwizardlyapprentice,farawayand asleep in the DrumTower.

But then a blaze ofirrationalhatredignitedinsideof him. The world unfrozeand he was again a glory of

claws,wings,teeth.He dove. The air

screamed past as the cityrushed up at him. Themoment before impact, heflared out his wings andwhippedhishindlegsaroundandintothepalace.Hisclawsstruck theroof,makingstoneandmetal splash into the airlikewaterdrops.Workinghispowerfulwings,heexhaledaplumeoffireintothepalace’sopenwound.

Ittookeightmoredivingpasses to topple the centraltower. Now the sun was up,but the smoke from hisdestruction dimmed itsbrilliancetoaburninghaze.

The first attackers wereinsignificant beings, ashelpless as the ants theyresembled with their metalarmor and swarmingregiments. They camescreaming up from the city.Against his scales, arrows

produced only pinpricks ofpain. He climbed high intothe air, then stooped into asharp dive. The soldiersbristledwithspearsandpikes.But at the last moment, hefanned his wings and veeredright. With claws extended,hestruckawall.

The falling debriscrushed most and sent theothers fleeing. Perched atopthecrumblingwall,heendedeach remaining life with a

thinjetoffire.Whenhetookwingonce

more, an arc of silveryMagnus leaped up from thecitadel and struck him justabove his right foreleg. Theblow sent him plummetingtoward the ground. It wasonly with a desperateworking of wings that hestayedaloft.

Slowly, he regainedaltitudeandturnedtowardthecitadel. As he approached, a

second textual blast eruptedfrom the walls. Nowprepared, Nicodemus duckedunder the spell and dovetoward thehuddleofwizardswho had been casting theattackspells.

Afewoftheblack-robesfled, but most held theirground and cast up awall oftext. A single tail lashshattered the shield, leavingthewizardssus-ceptibletohisbreath.

Insavagecelebration,hetoppled another wall andloosed a roar that rattled histeeth.

But then the worldexplodedintostrangefire.Allaroundhim,goutsoforange-black flame gushed from thetoppled stones. Searing painawoke his instincts. Heleapedintotheair,butthefirerose with him. The undyingflames flickered and snarledinthewindofhiswing-beats.

Whatstrangemagicwasthis?Nicodemusbellowed.Then he saw them

peering from behind light-bending subtexts—a wholecaucus of pyromancers intheirorangerobes.

An ambush! He hadflown straight into a spellwritten in the fire-mages’pyrokinetic language. Nowthe malicious text wasburning into his scales,turninghisgloriousbodyinto

ash.Panicked, Nicodemus

worked his wings. To theeast,theoceangleamedinthemorning light. The sea!Perhaps it could quench thetextualfire.

With a few powerfulflaps, he was away from thecitadel and high above thecity’s mercantile heart. Butthespellwrightswouldnotlethim go so easily. A burninglanceofyellowlighttoreinto

his right wing. The spellshattered the fourthphalangealboneandopenedaholeinthewing’smembrane.A second spell smashed intohis belly and sent himfaltering down toward thecity.

He screamed out terrorand flame. Five excruciatingwing-strokes stopped his fallandrenewedhissprintforthesea.

Slowly he realized that

the ocean could no longersavehim.Eachpainfulstroketore a larger hole in his leftwing. Once in the sea, hewould not be able to regainflight. He would be an easytarget for the humanwarships. Worse, he mightnotreachtheocean;onemorespell would send himcrashingdownintothecity.

But the momentsstretched on; each wing-beatfloodedhismindwithagony.

He was not a mile from theestuarynow,andstillthefire-mages withheld the killingblast.

Arealizationtookshape:the spellwrights would notfinish him while he wasabove their precious city.They knew that his burningcarcass would loose a civicwildfire and destroy theirgleaming domes, theirprecioustowers.

His broad, serpentine

self shook with fury. Whyshould he die languishing inthewaves?Anger cooled hismind and sustainedhim longenough to turn back towardthebuildings.

Ifhehad todie, thensowouldthey.

Butthentheworldfrozeagain.Hehungmotionless inthe air. Again he becamemore than one person—abeggargirlhidinginanalley,a soldier’swife screaming at

the sight of the burningpalace, an aged fishermanprayingforsalvation.

Buthisanguishandpaingrew and the world leapedbackintomotion.

So down he fell withfolded wings to set the cityburning. The textual flamesroared and then gutteredwhile the city lay quietly inthelightofmorning.Soontheworld would see his terriblebeautyinallitsglory.

So down he fell andstruck with violent fury. Hisimpact shook the earth andset every city bell ringing…ringing…ringing…

CHAPTERTenRinging…ringing…ringing…

High above the DrumTower, in the belfry of theErasmineSpire,anapprenticehad spotted the first ray ofdaylightandbeguntollingthe

massivedawnbell.Nicodemus, still half-

asleep in his cot, came fullyawakewithastart.

Cold sweat covered hisbody and made him shiver.Hisraggedpillowdisplayedadark stain. He wiped hismouthandfounditencrustedwithdryblood.Hemusthavebitten his tongue during thenightmare.

In the wan light hefumbled around on the floor

for his clothes. The dreamhaunted him still; its everyimage, from bloody clay tothe burning city, flickeredbeforehiseyes.

After he pulled off hisshirtandwipedoffthesweat,the crisp autumn air madehim hurry to pull on a cleanshirt. From outside came theflapping of pigeon wings.Shaking his head, he tried todislodge the dream as hepulledasidehislonghairand

tightened his robe’s laces atthebackofhisneck.

“Only a nightmare,” hemuttered, pulling on hisboots.“Onlyanightmare,”herepeated as he washed hisface.

His eyes stung and hisbody would not quitshivering; the strange dreamhad prevented his sleep frombeing restful. Nothing for itbuttokeepmoving.

By the dawn bell’s last

ring, he was jogging downthe Drum Tower’s stepstowardbreakfast.

It was early still and,blessedly, the refectory wasnearly empty. Nicodemusneverknewwheretositwhenthe hall was crowded. Itusually came to a bleakchoice: eat with thecacographers and publicizehis disability, or eatwith theotherapprenticesandlistentoconversations about texts he

would never spellwrite. Buttoday he could sit alone andenjoy a breakfast of yo-gurtandtoastedbrownbread.

Severalseatstohisright,a huddle of young lesserwizards sat gossiping. Theorange lining of their hoodsidentified them as librarians.A fewwere debating how todisspell a bookworm curse,but most were whispering toeach other with an urgencythatsuggestedfreshintrigue.

Nicodemusleanedcloserand caught a few details: aseniorgrammarianhad failedtoattendhereveningseminar,and none of her studentscouldfindher.Somethoughtshehadbeensent toLornona secret quest, another thatshehadjumpedfromatowerbridge;afewthoughtshehadgonerogue.

Nicodemus wonderedwhich grammarian theyweretalkingaboutuntiloneof the

gossips noticed hiseavesdroppingandclearedhisthroat.Helookedaway.

To his left, two glassy-eyed apprentices werecorresponding in a commonmagicallanguage.Nicodemuswatched the dim green textflitbetweenthesweethearts.

Memories of long-agobreakfasts with Amy Herndrew a thin smile across hisface. She hadn’t minded hismisspelled correspondence.

They had often laughed atsome of the wildermalapropismshiscacographyhadproduced.

But his smile fadedwhen he thought aboutfinding another woman whowould want a lover whoseprose was nearlyindecipherable.

A moment later, Johnjoinedhimandbeganwolfingdown the first of his threebowls of oatmeal. “Good

morning, John. How do youfeel?”

The big man pretendedto nod off into his bowl.“You’re sleepy?”Nicodemusguessed. John flashed him alopsidedsmile.HeputahandonNicodemus’selbow.

“I’m sleepy, too,” theyoungermansaid.“IdreamedIturnedintoamonster.”

“No,” Simple John saidgently.

Nicodemus nodded. “I

hopenot.”He smiled. “John,does anyone else understandyouaswellasIdo?”

“Simple John!” SimpleJohn piped, brown eyesbeaming.

Nicodemus nodded.“Yes,ofcourse theydo.”Hepatted his friend’s shoulder.“Youcansaymorewithyourthree phrases than I couldmanage with the grandlibrary’sheaviestlexicon.”

Laughingly the bigman

said,“Nooooo-ooo.”With a chuckle,

Nicodemusstoodup. “Ihavetohurryoff to theoldman’sstudy; I’ll see you tonight.”After returning his plates tothe kitchen, Nicodemus leftthe refectory for the GrandCourtyard. It was a broad,grassy place covered withelm trees and slate-tiledwalkways.Everywhereblack-robed wizards strolled aloneor in pairs. To the west, a

horseshoe of blue-cladhydromancersstoodaroundastatue. Nicodemus spotted agaggle of snowy druid robesin the northeast corner. HehopedDeirdrewasn’t amongthem.

Cutting directly acrossthe courtyard, NicodemusgazedupattheairyheightsoftheErasmine Spire,which atthat moment was splitting ahaplesscloudintwo.

A lance of golden light

burst from the tower’s peakand shot over the easternmountains.Nicodemusstifleda yawn andwondered whichgrand wizard had cast thatcolaborisspell.Perhapsithadbeen a communication tosome distant monarch ormaybeeventoadeity.

Nicodemus hadnourishedsomanyadolescentdreams of becoming a grandwizard—almost as manydreams as he had of

becoming a knight errant.Howwonderfulitwouldhavebeen to spend a lifecounseling monarchs andcasting the resplendentcolaboris spells that instantlycarried information acrossvastdistances.He rubbedhissleep-deprived eyes andwondered if he would everearn even a lesser wizard’shood.

Another dazzlingcolaborisspellarcedoverthe

northeastern mountains andsilently struck the ErasmineSpire.An incomingmessage,he thought, and wonderedwhereitcamefrom.Abruptlya second colaboris spell flewinfromthenortheasttostrikethe Spire. Another goldenblastfollowedonitstail.

Shocked, Nicodemusstopped. An outgoing spellerupted from the tower, thisone heading north; it wasansweredinstantly.

“Blood of Los!” heswore. Throughout thecourtyard, all those fluent inNuminous stood amazed.Casting a colaboris spellrequired a vast amount ofintricate text and thereforewas done only with greatjustification. Usually thatjustification was gold; theOrder maintained its greatwealthbychargingmonarchsand deities exorbitant fees tocastthespellsontheirbehalf.

In fact, the Order hadestablished an academy inStarhaven solely because itssoaring towers and locationmade it an ideal relayingstation. But not once hadNicodemus seen so manycolaborisspellscastinsuchashort time. Somethingimportant must havehappened.

Suddenly a flurry of theNuminous-based spells cameraining in from several

directions. Nearby wizardscriedoutindismay.

The horizontal storm ofspells went on and on untilNicodemusthoughtthateveryscroll must have beenemptied and every grandwizard exhausted. But thegolden barrage continued.Moments passed like hours.Then, as abruptly as it hadbegun, the magic tempeststopped, leaving themorningskystrangelydim.

Nicodemus ran for theErasmine Spire. Somethingvery, very grave had justhappened.

“MAGISTER!” NICODEMUSCALLED,andpushedthestudydoor open. “There’s been acolaboriscorrespondencelikeyou’ve never seen. Theremusthavebeenthirtythat…”Hisvoicedied.

Shannon was standingnext to two strangers. The

first was a tall, fair-skinnedwoman with blue eyes anddark dreadlocks. Silver andgold buttons ran down thesleeves of her black robe,indicating her rank of grandwizard.

Thesecondstrangerwastawny-skinned, green-eyedDeirdre. Her robes weredruidic white with woodenbuttonsonthesleeves.

“Forgive me, Magister.I’ll wait in the hall…”

Nicodemus’s words trailedoffashesawthemyriadtinycuts raked across Shannon’sface.

“It’s all right, my boy,”Shannon said calmly. “Comein. We’ve been waiting foryou.” He held his researchjournal and was tracing theasterisks embossed on itsface. “Never mind thescrapes; I was working toolate and mishandled anancient spellbook. The blast

scuffed me up a bit.” Hemotionedtohisfacewiththejournal.

“Yes, Magister,”Nicodemus said uncertainly.Each year brought a fewreports of ancient codicesdeconstructing,butforsuchathing to happen to a grandwizardwasextraordinary.

The old man’s blankeyes pointed at Nicodemus’schest.“Andyou,lad,areyouall right?Was thereanything

amissintheDrumTowerlastnight?”

Nicodemus glancednervously at the strangers.“TherewasaJejunuscursingmatch. I’m sorry if wedisturbedanyone.”

Shannon’s expressionsoftened.“Nottoworryaboutthat.Pleasegreetourguests.”He gestured in the directionof the wizard. “MagistraAmadiOkeke,asentinelfromAstrophell.”

Nicodemus bowed andthewomannodded.

“AndDeirdre,amemberof the Silent Blightdelegation.”

“Your pardon,Magister,” the druidinterrupted. “But I do notspeak for Silent Blightconcerns.Myprotector and Iprovide independentcounsel.”

Nicodemus had to stophimself from staring. By

night Deirdre had seemedhandsome. But now that shewasstandinginthewindow’ssunlight her eyes seemedgreener, her skin darker, herloosehairmoreglossyblack.Now she was stunning andlookedevenmorefamiliar.

Shannon’s blind gazehad wandered up to theceiling. “Well then,Nicodemus, please greetDeirdre, an independentemissaryfromDral.”

Nicodemus began toworry.Shannonhadsaid thatthey had been waiting forhim. Had his conversationwith the druid last nightstirred up new interest in hiscacography?

HebowedtoDeirdre.“Scratch!” Azure said,

and launched herself fromShannon’s chair. Nicodemusraised his forearm in time tomake a perch for theincomingparrot.

“Tell me again aboutyour bird,” an amusedDeirdre said. “I thought shewas your familiar andcouldn’t communicate withanyoneelse.”

Shannon turned towardthe druid. He was silent amoment before replying.“Sometimes Azure flies amessage to Nicodemus, butonly I can understand herdialect of Numinous.” Agolden sentence flew from

Shannon’s brow to hisfamiliar’s. The bird bobbedherheadandflappedherwaybacktoShannon’sshoulder.

“For a fewwizards, ageor literary trauma steals ourability to see anything butmagical text.” Shannongesturedtohisall-whiteeyes.“Timedidsotome.Butthoselikemecanrapidlyexchangeinformation with animalfamiliars.”

Two Numinous streams

rushed between wizard andparrot.NowShannonpointedhis facedirectlyatDeirdre’s.“Through thisprotocol, I canseethroughAzure’seyes.I’mdoingsonow.”

Deirdrestudiedmanandbird. “Such strange practicesyouwizardshave.”

Again Shannon let asilence grow before heresponded.“Iheardruidsalsohave strange relationshipswith animals. But hopefully

thisconvocationwilldomorethanrenewtreaties;hopefullyit will make our differentsocieties less strange to oneanother.”

Nicodemus had neverheard the old man be sohesitant and so cautiouswithhiswords.

Azure, apparentlyhaving looked around theroom enough for Shannon,broke the Numinous streamandturnedtopreeningoneof

Shannon’ssilverdreadlocks.Magistra Okeke spoke.

“We should tell theboywhywearehere.”

Shannon’smouthtensed,and thenhemotioned towardthree chairs. “Then let us sit.This, Nicodemus, is afortuitous interview. Deirdrepassed me in the halls thismorning and inquired aboutyou. And Magistra Okekeappeared at my door onlymoments ago, quite

unexpectedly.”“Iwould like theboy to

talk about the ErasmineProphecy,” the sentinel said,coolly regarding firstShannonandthenDeirdre.

Nicodemus felt hischeeksgrowhot.

Shannon turned towardthe sentinel. “I see you’vebeen busy researchingStarhavenrumors.”

With a half-smile, thedruidlookedfromonewizard

to theotherbeforeadding,“Iam also interested in thisprophecy.”

The sentinel narrowedhereyesattheotherwoman.

Three grand authors inone room, each distrustful ofthe others—Nicodemuswould have felt safer if thestudy were full of starvinglycanthropes.

“Regarding prophecy,thereislittletotell,”Shannonsaid. “Nicodemus is not the

Halcyon.”“Why so certain?”

Deirdre’sgreeneyesfixedonthe old man. “Perhaps weshould start with what thefirstwizardsforesaw.”

Shannon started to replybut then paused. Prophecy,being closely related toreligion, was seldomdiscussed among differentmagical societies. Doing sowas considered impolite atbest,blasphemousatworst.

However, Shannoncould not refuse a guest’sdirect request. “Erasmusforesaw the War ofDisjunction:thefinalstrugglebetween demons andhumanity that will comewhen the fiends escape theancient continent and invadethis one. The propheciespredict that Los will bereborn and will lead thePandemonium—the greatdemonic army—across the

ocean to destroy all humanlanguage. Erasmus foundedtheNuminousOrder ofCivilWizardry to repel thePandemonium. His prophecypredicts that the Order willprevail only if it heeds theteachings of a masterspellwright known as ‘theHalcyon.’”

Deirdre shifted in herchair. “But how could anyforce destroy humanlanguage?”

Magistra Okekeanswered impatiently: “Thedemonswillusespecialspellscalledmetaspells todecouplethemeaningoflanguagefromitsform.”

The druid gave thesentinelablanklook.

“What Magistra Okekemeans,” Shannon explained,“is that the demons willdivorcethesignifierfromthesignified. Phrases and wordswill take on unexpected

meanings. Civilization willcrumble into animalbrutishness.”

“Idon’tunderstandyourjargon,” Deirdre said. “Butthis interests me. The druidshold to the Prophecy of thePeregrine,whichpredictsthatthe Pandemonium will burnour groves and crush ourstanding stones. Ourmundane and magical textsare stored within our sacredtreesandmegaliths.”

“I thought druidsbelieved the War ofDisjunction was imminent,”Magistra Okeke said.“Something about a funguskillingoffDralishtrees.”

Still smiling, Deirdreexaminedthesentinelasifforthefirsttime.“AmadiOkeke,yourefertotheSilentBlight.It is a complicated issue. Iwould prefer not to speak ofithere.”

The sentinel pursed her

lips. “But perhaps you couldelucidate some of yourorder’s beliefs, sinceMagisterShannonwassofreewith information aboutwizardlyprophecy.”

“There’s no need to—”Shannonstartedtosay.

“It is all right.” Deidreraised an open palm. “TheSilentBlightisa…‘change,’Isuppose I must name it tonon-druids.Yes,theBlightisaworldchangewedetecteda

few decades ago. It is not adisease,buta…conditionthatisaffectingallofnature.Theevidence comes from theobservation thatcertainkindsof trees are dying in each ofthehumankingdoms.Whatiscausingthedeathsisdebated.Some believe the Blightindicates that the War ofDisjunction will begin anyday now. Others think it isun-related to prophecy.However, all druids agreeon

oneandonlyonething:whenthe War of Disjunction doesbegin, a foreign spellwrightknown as the Peregrine willshow us how to protect oursacred places and hence ourlanguage.”

Shannonnodded.“Someofourscholars report thatallmagical societies believe theDisjunctionwilldestroy theirlanguages and that only onespellwrightmightpreventthisfate.”

Deirdre nodded toNicodemus without lookingat him. “And the wizardsoncethoughthemightbetheHalcyon?”

Magistra Okeke leanedforward, her eyes flittingbetween Shannon andDeirdre.

Though Shannon’s faceremainedimpassive,hecastabrief sentence to Azure. Theparrot lowered her head,allowing the old man to

stroke the feathers along herskinny neck. Nicodemusrecognized this as a habitcomforting for both bird andman.

At last Shannon spoke.“Our prophecy describes theHalcyonasbeingthechildofan unknown mother, ashaving a birth to magicpowerfulenoughtobefeltforhundredsofmiles,as forgingboth Numinous and Magnusbeforereachingtwenty.Allof

these things describeNicodemusperfectly.”

The pride ringing in theold man’s voice madeNicodemus’scheeksgrowhotagain.

“However,” Shannoncontinued, “Erasmus alsodescribed the Halcyon asbearing a congenital keloidscarintheshapeoftheBraidrune. Nicodemus’s mark isambiguous. More important,the prophecy predicted that

the Halcyon would mastermany styles and wieldlanguage with elegance andjustice. He foresaw theHalcyon destroying the feralkingdoms and forging a staffpowerful enough to slay therebornLos.”

“Andthat iswhyIcan’tbe the Halcyon,” Nicodemusinsisted. “My cacographyprevents me from masteringany style or producinganything close to elegant

prose. For a while, thewizards thought I wouldoutgrow my difficulty. Butwhenitbecameapparentthatmy touch would alwaysmisspell, they knew Iwasn’ttheHalcyon.”

“Nicodemus,” Deirdresaid, “howwere you born tomagic?”

He shifted in his seat.“In my sleep, when I wasthirteen.”

The druid’s mouth

curved almost imperceptiblyupward.Atthesametime,thesentinelnarrowedherlips.

Deirdre asked, “Do youremember what you weredreamingaboutthenightyouwereborntomagic?”

“No,”helied.The sentinel spoke. “As

a cacographer you causemisspells by handling text,but have you noticed if yourtouch makes other thingsmore chaotic? For example,

do those near you oftenbecome sick?Ordo the firesyou light tend to escape thefireplace?”

Nicodemuswasabouttosay that he had not noticedanything like that whenShannon interrupted ina lowtone. “Amadi, ProvostMontserrat has personallyobserved Nicodemus anddeterminedthatthatisnotthecase.”

An icy sensation—half-

thrill, half-fear—spreadthrough Nicodemus. TheProvost had observed him?Butwhenandhow?

MagistraOkekestaredatShannon for a longmoment.“I will see the boy’s keloidnow.”

Nicodemus touched alock of his long black hair.“There’s really no need,Magistra. The scars aremisshapen. And we don’tknowifIwasbornwithitor

not.”Thesentinelonlystared.

HelookedatShannon,buthisteacher’s expression was asblank as a snow field. Nohelp there. He looked atDeirdre. She only smiled herinfuriatinghalf-smile.

So with his heartgrowing cold, Nicodemusturnedhischairtopresenthisback to the sentinel, pulledhis hair over one shoulder,andbegantounlacehisrobes.

ASHEUNTIEDhiscollarattheback of his neck,Nicodemus’s fingers ranacrossthekeloid.

He had felt the scarscountlesstimesbefore,tracedtheir every inch with hisfingertips.Once he had evenarranged twobitsofpolishedbrass so that he could seetheirreflection.

Unlike most scars,which were pale and flat, a

keloid scar bulged out anddarkened. Nicodemus’scomplexion was a healthyolive hue, but the weals onhisneckshoneaglossyblue-black—like a colony ofparasitic mollusks growingintohisflesh.

He fussed over his hairevery night so that it wouldremain long enough to hidethekeloids.Hehadn’thad toreveal them for nearly fiveyears.

His face burned as hepushed his collar back toexpose his neck andshoulders.

“Goddess!” the druidswore.“Dotheyhurt?”

“No, Magistra,” he saidasevenlyaspossible.

He heard the sentinelwalk over to him. “I can seethe shape of theBraid in thescars.”

The “Braid” she wasreferring to was a rune in a

common language namedVulgate; it consisted of twovertical lines connected by aserpentine line that wovebetween them. By itself theBraid could mean “toorganize”or“tocombine.”

Nicodemus had nosensation along the keloid,buthecouldfeelthepressureofMagistraOkeke’sfingerasshetracedthescarsdownhisneck. She spoke. “Druid, isthe Peregrine prophesied to

bear a keloid in the shape oftheBraid?”

“Predicted to be bornwith such,” the druidanswered. “There have beenfalse Peregrines who havecreatedsuchakeloidthroughbranding. And, as Iunderstand it, we do notknowifNicodemus’smarkiscongenital.”

“But, Magistras, there’san error in themiddle of it,”Nicodemussaid,hisfacestill

hot.MagistraOkekegrunted.

“Child, you don’t know howrightyouare.”

He triednot to flinch asher finger traced the blotch.This second scar took theimperfect shape of a writtenletter “k” that had beenpushed over onto its legs—the same shape as theInconjunctrune.

By itself an Inconjunctmeant either “as far apart as

possible” or “as in-correct aspossible.” Therefore, a Braidpaired with an Inconjunctcouldmean“todisorganizetothe furthest extent” or “todeconstruct to the basiccomponents.”

Deirdre sworeunderherbreath:“Bridget,damnit!”

Shocked by the druid’sblasphemy against her owngoddess, Nicodemus turnedaround.Shehadlostherhalf-smileandwasfrowningathis

neck.“You are distressed,

Deirdre?” Magistra Okekeasked. “You thought perhapsNicodemus was thePeregrine?”

The druid sighed andreturned to her chair. “Yes,AmadiOkeke.Theanswertoboth of your questions isyes.”

“Well, druid, I agreewith your assessment,” thesentinel said. “If this scar is

fate’swork, then it is a clearsign that Nicodemus is nottheHalcyon.But Iwonder ifit might have anothermeaning.”

Shannon snorted.“You’regettingcarriedaway,Amadi.” His voice softened.“Thankyou,Nicodemus.Youmaycoveryournecknow.”

Dizzy with relief,Nicodemus began to tie hiscollar’slaces.

Deirdresatbackintoher

chair. “Agwu Shannon,Amadi Okeke, apologies foroccupyingyourtime.”

Returning to her seat,MagistraOkekeasked,“Whatdoes the provost think of theInconjunct?”

“Hedoesnotbelieveitisa rune,” Shannon answeredcurtly. “He believes it is theresultofhumanerror.”

Magistra Okeke’s eyesnarrowed. “I don’tunderstand.”

Shannon opened hismouth to speak, butNicodemus interrupted:“Magister is too kind to saythat most likely my parentsbranded me. It might beshameful,andmanymaylookdown on my family becauseof it. But I’d rather face theshame than have anyoneagain believe that I’minvolvedinprophecy.”

Shannon frowned.“Nicodemus, who told you

thatyouwerebranded?”Nicodemuslookeddown

at his boots. “No one,Magister. It’s what I figurepeoplemustsay.”

Deirdre gazed out thewindow, all sign of interestgone.

Meanwhile the sentinellooked Nicodemus up anddown. “You’vehad the scarsallyourlife?”

Nicodemus forcedhimself to meet her stare.

“When I was an infant, mystepmother gave me my lastnamebecauseofthem.”

Magistra Okeke raisedhereyebrows.

“The word ‘weal’ is asynonym for ‘welt,’”Nicodemus explained.“Hence Nicodemus-of-the-weals became NicodemusWeal.”

Shannon cleared histhroat. “But ‘weal’ hasanothermeaning.Itcanmean

‘the common good.’ It’s anantonymofwoe.”

Nicodemus put on hisbravest smile. “I’ve alwayssaid that that makes it acontranym.”

Deirdre looked atNicodemus so abruptly hestarted. “Whywouldyousaythat?”Thehalf-smilereturnedtoherlips.

“Oh-h,” Nicodemusstuttered. “W-well, acontranym is a word that

means the opposite of itselflike ‘dust’ or ‘bound.’ If I’mdusting the table, you don’tknow if I’m sweeping thedustoff itorsprinklingsomeonto it. And the weal is theopposite of woe, but woe tohimwithaweal.”

Shannon laughed softlyeventhoughhehadheardthisattempt at wit before.Nicodemus gave him agratefulglance.

Deirdre was nodding.

She seemed about to speakbut anurgent knock soundedatthedoor.

“Enter,”Shannoncalled.The door swung open toreveal Magister Smallwood.“Agwu! It’s that astoundingcolaboris correspondence.News most terrifying fromabroad!”

CHAPTEREleven“Nicodemus, please attendour druid guest while I hearthis news.” Shannon stood.“Deirdre, forgive us amoment.” Two Numinousarcs sprang between the old

wizardandAzureashemadefor the door. The sentinelfollowed.

Nicodemus stood andwatched them go. He wouldhavegivenanything toavoidbeing left alone with thedruid.

He looked back atDeirdre. Her wide eyes andsmoothskinmadeherseemednoolder than twenty,butherslight smile betrayed anancient,matronlyamusement.

“I think I handled that ratherwell,” she said. “Let us sit.There’smuchtodiscuss.”

Frowning in confusion,heretookhisseat.

“Nicodemus, do youknow that we’re distantcousins?”thedruidasked,hersmile growing. “I consultedStarhaven’s genealogylibrary. We share a pair ofgreat-great-grandparents.”

Nicodemus’s headbobbed backward. This was

unexpected. But then herealized why the druidseemedfamiliar:saveforhereyes, shewas a younger andmore beautiful copy of hisaunt. “Are you Spirish?” heasked.

She shook her head.“Dralish, but of Imperialdescent. Do you know whatthat means? The ancientcontinent was ruled by anImperial family whopossessed the same black

hair, green eyes, and oliveskinthatyouandIhave.”

Nicodemus felt an oldmemorystir.“Myfatheroncesaid he could trace hisancestry to the first SpirishLandfall.”

Deirdre nodded. “Justso. When humanity fled theancient continent, eachmember of the imperialfamily boarded a differentship. The Maelstromscatteredthehumanfleet;asa

result,ourrelativesarespreadacross the land in bothpowerful and humblefamilies.”

Shestudiedhim.“Ihavemany Imperial aspects, savefor my height, or rather, mylackofheight.Butyou seemto have all the Imperialfeatures.”

Nicodemus fought theurgetofidgetwithhissleeve.“It’sflatteringtohearyousayso.”

“It makes one wonderwho your mother might be,”shesaid.

He looked away at thewindow.

“I am sorry,” she said,touching his knee. “Forgivemyspeculation.”

“There is nothing toforgive,” he said withoutlookingather.

“Nicodemus, I must tellyou something.” She paused.“Please carefully consider

what I say next.” She leanedforward. Paused. “You havebeen crippled by a horriblecurse.”

Heblinked.“I’msorry?”“Youarecursed.”“Inwhichlanguage?”“Innomagical language

ofthisland.”“Forgivemyskepticism,

butifIhaven’tbeencursedina known magical language,thenhowcanyouseeit?”

Deirdre folded her dark

hands on her white lap.“There are many things thatcannot be seen by writers ofthenewmagics.”

“New magics?”Nicodemus frowned at herodddiction.

The druid nodded.“When our ancestors crossedthe ocean, most ancientmagics were lost. Only theDralish and Verdantianspreserved their ancestralways,whichevolved into the

old magics. All other magichas been invented sincethen.”

He knew that what shewas saying was true. “Butwhat does this have to dowith a curse? And shouldn’twe speak of old languages,notoldmagics?”

Deirdre’s mouth tensedforamomentbutthenrelaxedinto its usual half-smile.“Magics, languages, it’s allone. The point is that while

the new languages might bemore powerful, they restricttheir writers’ vision; theyprevent their writers fromknowing the wisdom of theancientcontinent.”

“And they prevent usfrom seeing curses?”Nicodemusaskedskeptically.“Forgiveme,but I did spendlast night disspelling a cursefrommyforehead.”

The druid waved hiswords away. “Wizards call

any malevolent text a curse.What infected you isdifferent. It was written in alanguage from the ancientcontinentandthereforeleftanaura dimly visible to thosefluent in the old languagesbut invisible to those fluentonlyinthenew.”

“All right, say I havebeen cursed. What infectedme? Is it some disease I’vegot?”

Deirdre was silent for a

moment. Then she leanedforward and said, “Isn’t itobvious, my friend, thatsomeone has stolen yourabilitytospell?”

Nicodemus blinked.“That’s impossible. Noknownspell—”

“This curse comes fromthe ancient world, whereknowledge of how languagecouldaffect thebodywasfargreater.Thehistoriesdescribemagicthat could regrow a

severed arm or restore thememories lost to a blow onthehead.”

Nicodemus could notdeny what she said; theancients had had an in-comprehensibly sophisticatedunderstanding of themundane world, includingmedicine.

The druid continued,“Your curse was one suchancient spell. It must haveinvadedyourmindandstolen

its growth or altered itsdevelopment. Whatever thecase, it removed the part ofyour mind needed tospellwritecorrectly.”

“Butwhowouldwanttocurseme?”

“There are men andwomen in every humankingdom who worshipdemons,” she replied. “Weknowlittleofthemotherthanthat they have formed aclandestine order. They call

themselves the Disjunctionbecause they wish to initiatethe War of Disjunction.Whoeverhascursedyoumustbeamongtheirnumber.

Nicodemus’s throattightened.“YouthinkI’mtheHalcyon.”

Deirdre eyed the door.“Last spring, my goddesscommanded me to travel toStarhaven, where I wouldfind a ‘treasure wrapped inblack and endangered by the

fallingnight.’”Shemotionedto Nicodemus’s black robe.“The Dralish prophecypredicts that the Peregrinewillbeanorphanedforeigner—one born to magic in thedreamworld.”

“But the keloid,”Nicodemus exclaimed. “Yousawthatit’snotatrueBraid.You swore, in fact. Youagreed with Magistra OkekethatIcan’t—”

She held up a finger.

“Amadi Okeke asked if Iwere distressed and if I hadthought you were thePeregrine. Both of thosethings were true. Sheassumed that your keloiddisqualifies you from beingthePeregrine.”

“Itdoesn’t?”Deirdre’s half-smile

returned. “We Dralish use adifferent dialect of thecommon magical languages;the common runes have

differentmeaningsforus.”“And my keloid means

somethingdifferenttoyou?”The druid’s smile

widened. “To us, the Braidmeans ‘to combine’ or ‘togrow.’ More important, thesecondmarkonyourneck isanexactcopyofarunecalledtheCrookedBranch.”

“Anditsmeaning?”“It describes something

thatiswildorunrestricted.SothecombinationofaCrooked

Branch with a Braid wouldmean ‘wild or unrestrainedgrowth.’”The druid laughed.“I swore when I saw yourkeloid, not because itexcludes you from ourprophecy, but because itdescribes you as difficult togovernorcontain.”

Nicodemus shook hishead. “But you still don’tknow if my keloid iscongenitalornot.”

The druid cocked her

head toone side. “Youdon’tlike the possibility that youmightfulfillourprophecy?”

Nicodemus stammeredbut couldn’t come up with areply.

She shrugged. “Well, Ineed no further convincing.Here you are, just as mygoddesssaidyouwouldbe—wrapped in black andendangered. Gravelyendangered. Someone hasmaneuvered you into this

haven of new magic, wheredruids almost never come.Our first task is to free youfromStarhaven.”

“But I’m notimprisoned.”

“NicodemusWeal,thinkofwhatyourkeloidandyourcurse mean. Someone hasstopped you from becomingthe Peregrine. It is not safehere.”

“But I’m surrounded bywizards.Whocouldharmme

here?”“Who? The one who

cursed you, of course.” Sheshookherhead.“Nicodemus,you were not meant to becrippled.”

Her words filledNicodemus with giddinessand confusion. What if shewas correct? What if hiscacography was a mistake?Everythingwouldchange.Hewouldchange.Hislifewouldbeginagain.

Deirdre’s eyes widened.“YourheartknowsIamright.Listen to me. Do you knowwhatanarkis?”

Nicodemus lookedaway. “Cacographers aren’tinstructedintheology.”

“An ark is a vessel thatcontains a deity’s soul andmuch of her power. WithKyran and a dozen devotees,I havebroughtmygoddess’sark to thisplace. Ifwecouldbring you to the ark, my

goddessmayliftyourcurse.”Nicodemus pursed his

lips.Wasitpossible?Deirdre continued

excitedly. “We could notbringthearkuptoStarhaven.This place is filled withancient Chthonic magic thatwoulddamagetheartifact.Soinstead we have placed itunder guard in that village…the one down on theWesternmost Road. I can’trememberthename.”

“Gray’sCrossing.”The druid smiled. “The

same. My party has takenrooms at the inn there. Andall of the devotees, two ofthem druids, now guard theark. We simply need to slipyou free from Starhaven andbring you down to Gray’sCrossing so that my goddesscan protect you. From therewe shall ride to the civilforests ofDral to begin yourdruidictraining.”

Something in the waythedruid spoke—perhaps thezealinhereyes,ormaybetheurgency in her tone—cooledNicodemus’s excitement.“But why should yourgoddess want to heal mycacography?”

“Because you’re thePeregrine!” she exclaimed,leaning forward. “Thedefenderofourcivilization!”

The woman’s brighteyes seemed free of deceit;

still Nicodemus did not trusther.“Ican’tgowithyou.”Heput his now trembling handsinhislap.

Deirdre’s smile faltered.Shestartedasifwakingfromadream.“Yes,” she said, theexcitement draining fromherface. “The Braid and theCrooked Branch. I couldn’texpectless.”

“Even if I trusted youcompletely, I couldn’t leaveStarhaven. Numinous and

Magnusspellwrightsmaynotforsake the Order. If I leftStarhaven, they’d sendsentinels to cast a censorshipspell on me to snuff out myliteracy.”

The druid tapped aforefinger against her pursedlips.“Itseemsyourjailerhasplanned well. You aretrapped.Wemustassumethatsuch a clever enemy hasplanted conspirators amongthewizards.”

“Conspirators?” he saidwith a laugh. “Look, theCreator knows I want whatyousaytobetrue,butthere’snoevidence for it.”Hestoodandwalkedtothewindow.

“Nicodemus, unless youtrust me now, there will beviolence,” Deirdre said, hervoicesuddenlyfullof fervor.“Theonewhocursedyouwilldiscovermypresenceandthepresence of my goddess.Blood will be shed in

Starhaven.”Despite the sunshine

coming through the window,Nicodemus shivered.Deirdre’s every expressionsuggested that she sincerelybelievedwhatshewassaying.However, there was adesperation in her tone, amaniacal excitement in hereye.

Nicodemus had seensuch passion before—seen itgrowandthenwitherinevery

youngcacographer that camethrough the Drum Tower.Likeacrippledchild,Deirdremust have hung her everydesireononehope.

“My apologies, druid,”he said, meeting her eyes,“but I cannot trust you soblindly. I will discuss thiswithMagisterShannon.”

Again the zealous glowmelted from the druid’sexpression and left only thewry half-smile. “Here I was

worrying that your keloidmarkedyouastooheadstrongto be controlled. I couldn’thave been more wrong. It isworse that you areuncontrollableinthisway.”

Nicodemusturnedtothewindowsill. “And what wayisthat?”

“You are frightened.Insecure, dependent on yourmaster,childish.”

Nicodemus closed hiseyes; her words felt like a

punchinthegut.Buthekepthis thoughts calm. He hadhad plenty of practicesurvivingbrutalhonesty.

“Deirdre, I won’t guessyourage.”Heturnedhisfaceup to feel the sunshine.“Despite your looks, youmust be decades older than Iam.NodoubtI’machildnextto you. I haven’t evenguessed what game you areplaying.ButatleastIseethatyou are a game-player and

would make me a game-piece.”

Deirdre spoke in a dry,accusing voice. “I have putmyself in great danger bywarningyouofyourcurse.”

Nicodemus took a longbreath.Shewasstillvyingforadvantage, still trying toconvince him. On unsteadylegs,hereturned tohischair.“Deirdre, I’m a cacographer,a cripple, a mooncalfapprentice.Idonotplan;Ido

not scheme. But twenty-fiveyears of retardation havetaught me how to tell thepainted from the plain, theguilefulfromthegenuine.”

Thedruid regardedhim.“And how to speakmasterfully.”

“Flattery.”Heclosedhiseyes and pressed fourtrembling fingers to hisforehead. “I know thatMagisterisplainandthatyouarepainted.Iwilltellhim.”

She shook her head.“Then listen to me, game-piece Nicodemus. One dayyouwill not have the luxuryof hiding behind yourdisability.One day soon youwill have to paint your faceandplaymygameordie.”

Hesaidnothing.“Before you tell

Shannon,” the druid saidcoolly, “consider that hemight, perhaps unknowingly,serveourenemy.”

Nicodemus started toprotest, but she held up herhand. “And perhaps he doesnot. But men speak withloose tongues. TellingShannonwhatItoldyoumaystartrumors.Atpresent,yourjailer doesn’t know that youare aware of him. InformingShannon may alert him toyour new knowledge.Informing Shannon mayignite a bloody strugglebeforeKyranand Iare ready

todefendyou.”Nicodemus frowned. “If

Shannon were a demon-worshiper, he never wouldhaveleftmealonewithyou.”

Deirdrecockedherheadto one side. “You care forhim.”

Nicodemusblinked.Her infuriating half-

smiledreturned.“Game-pieceNicodemus, beware ofShannon.Heisonlyaman.Ifhe is your jailer, then he

might be an imperfect one.Leaving you alone with memight have been simply amistake.”Shepaused.“Don’tyou wonder what causedthose unusual cuts across hisface?”

Nicodemus opened hismouthtodefendtheoldman,but before the words came,muffledvoicessoundedatthedoor.

“They’re coming back.”Deirdre leaned forward and

tookhishand.“Nicodemus,ifyou remember anything,rememberthatthewizardsaremore than they seem.Shannon is more than heseems.Wemustgetyoutomygoddess’s ark in Gray’sCrossing; you will be safethere.Untilthen,takethis.”

From the folds of herrobe, she withdrew a smallsphere of polishedwood andplaced it in Nicodemus’spalm. A root wound around

theobject.“It is called a Seed of

Finding,” she said softly. “Ifyou need me, break the rootthat encircles the Seed and Iwill come. I have anotherartifact thatwill allowme tofind you so long as you aretouchingtheSeed.”

She closed her handsaround his and knelt. “ByBridget’s love,” she said,hergreeneyesfixeduponhim,“Ihereby pledge myself to the

protection of NicodemusWeal, our belovedPeregrine.”

CHAPTERTwelveNicodemus stared down atthewoodenorb.Itdidn’tlooklike any seed he had everknown. A tingling warmthwas spreading down hisfingers. “Its power is quick,”

hewhispered.Deirdre released his

hand. “Keep it safe. Manywizards would pay theirweightingoldforthisspell.”

Nicodemus met hergaze. “If I gave this to awizardsothathecouldstudythe druidic languages in it,and the other druids learnedthatyougaveittome—”

“—they would stranglemebeforeourgoddess’saltar.Just as the wizards jealously

guard Numinous andMagnus, thedruidsguard thehigher druidic languages.”She stood. “You see how Iriskmylifeforyou.”

Across the room thedoor latch chirped.Nicodemus stood and stuffedthe druidic artifact into hisbelt-purse.

Deirdre stepped awayfrom him as the door swungopen to reveal an exhaustedShannon. Azure, perched on

the wizard’s right hand,bobbedherhead.

“My esteemed druid,”thegrandwizard rumbled, “Ihave just heard a report thatwill harrow your soul. Butmight I have amoment withmyapprenticefirst?”

“Of course,” Deirdresaidwithabow.

“Nicodemus.” Shannongesturedtothedoor.

The younger manfollowed the grand wizard

intothehallway.When the door clicked

shut behind him, Shannonheld a gnarled forefinger tohis lips and cast a miniatureriver of Numinous from hisbrow to Azure’s. The birdlooked over the old man’sshoulder and down the darkhall. A responding sentenceflewfrombirdtowizard.

It was then thatNicodemus noticed thesentinel, Magistra Amadi

Okeke, standing partwaydownthehall.Shehalffacedthemwhile talking to amalesentinel whose long blackhair was done up in anIxonianbun.

Unexpectedly, Azurebegan to flap and screech.“Help me calm her down,”Shannon said. “She’sabsorbed my anxiety aboutthenews.”

Nicodemus steppedforward to stroke Azure’s

dorsal feathers. Thoughshesubmitted to his reassuringfingers, the familiarcontinued to squawk.Shannon began cooing overthe bird. “Ohhh, Azure, oldfriend, Azzzure…therenow…Azzzure.”

Nicodemus frowned;usually Azure quieted whenreceivingsuchattention.

Suddenly he realizedthat Shannon wasn’t cooingat all; he was talking under

his mother-birdimpersonations. “Azure,ohhh…Amadi may belistening. No, don’t look atme…Azzzure, there now…that’s her private secretaryshe’s talking to; an IxonianmannamedKale.”

Azure wasn’t agitated;she was deliberately creatingenough noise to drown outtheirconversation.

“If I tell you somethingshocking,” Shannon

murmured, “can you keepyourfaceblank?”

Nicodemus noddedslightly.

“Oh, there now, Azure.DidyouknowMagistraNoraFinn?”

“Yes,butI’vespokentoher only a few times,”Nicodemuswhispered.

“She was murdered lastnight.”

All theair seemed tobepulled out of Nicodemus’s

lungs.“There now, Azure, old

friend. Don’t look surprised.Good. Oh Azzzzure. Keepyour expression neutral; itgets worse. The sentinelssuspect both you and me ofkilling Nora. Worse, Iencounteredthetruemurdererlastnight.Iamalmostcertainthevillainishuntingyou.Oh,Azzzzure. Ohhhh…don’tbreathesofast;you’llfaint.”

The ground seemed to

betippingunderNicodemus’sboots.Hehadtoworkhardtoslowhisbreath.

Shannon continued:“The murderer threatened toharmothercacographicboys.I’ve doubled the protectivelanguage around the DrumTower and ordered that nocacographer is to leaveStarhaven.”

The old man’s eyesnarrowed. “Problem is thesentinelsareinvestigatingme

for murder; they’ll distrustanything I say. If I ask themto protect the Drum Towerboysnow,theywillthinkitaploy and refuse. However, Imight be able to find someinformation that will forceMagistra Okeke to…Nicodemus, are you allright?”

Nicodemus wasbreathing slower, but theworld seemed to be slowlyspinning. “Who’s the

murderer?” he asked in awhisper.

Shannonpursedhis lips.“A creature that is neitherhumannor construct.Butwecan’tdiscussthiswhilebeingwatched. Two hours pastmidday, before our research,meetme in the compluvium.Doyouknowwherethatis?”

“Between the SataalLanding and the SpindleBridge.”

“Yes,Azure.Yes.That’s

agoodbird,”Shannoncooed,then lowered hisvoice again.“I’ll explain more in thecompluvium. From now on,thesentinelswillbewatchingyou.Theirpresencewillkeepthe murderer away, but ifthey decide you’re guilty ofNora’s murder, they’llinstantly conduct a witchtrial.”

Nicodemus clenched hishands.Towizards, a“witch”wasanyspellwrightwhoused

prose for unlawful ormalicious purposes. One ofthe duties entrusted to thesentinelswastheformationofwitchhuntsandtrialstobringsuch villains to justice.However, because thesentinels judged their owntrials, those accused wereoften condemned to deathwhether or not they wereguilty.

Shannonspokeagain.“Itwill be hard, but you must

appear innocent and calm.The sentinels will always bewatching.”

“Magister, you remindme—when you went away,the druid had strange wordsfor me.” He quickly relatedwhatDeirdrehadtoldhim.

Shannon chewed his lipfor amoment. “I can’t say ifDeirdre is correct about thecurseorthekeloid,butnowItoo suspect that you are tiedtoprophecy.”

“B-but the Provosthimself thought I wasbranded.”

“We can’t discuss thisnow. Listen, there’s anotherreason you need to appearinnocent.MagistraOkekeandother Astrophell delegatesmay belong to the counter-prophecy faction. Allmembers of that factionbelieve an anti-Halcyon, achampionofchaos,willarise.If they ever decide that you

could be this anti-Halcyon,youandIwillbedeadwithinan hour. We must convincethem that you are a normalcacographer.”

“Buthowcan—”“Shhhh.” Shannon

pretended to shush hisfamiliar. “You mustn’t tellanyone—not another wizard,not John, and especially notDevin.”

Thinking of Devin’stendency to gossip,

Nicodemusagreed.“Now, when Azure

quiets, we must discuss thenewsfromTrillinon;it’swhatAmadiexpects.”

On cue, the familiarceased her screeching.HookingherbillintoafoldofShannon’s robe, the birdhoisted herself onto the oldman’s shoulder and began topreen the down on her back.“That’s a good bird,”Shannon announced.

“Nicodemus, I’m afraid Ihavedistressingnews.”

The younger manglanced over Shannon’sshoulder at the sentinel; shehadquitherconversationandnowstoodstudyingthem.

“It seems a malevolentconstructhasbesetTrillinon,”Shannonsaid.“Fireanddeathnowreign in thecity.PartofAstrophell has burned andmany of our Northernwizardshavediedbecauseof

thismonstrousspell.”“Whatkindofspell?”“One we do not

comprehend.” Shannonfrowned. “The reports,theyspeak of—” Azureplucked a feather from herback, a sign of extremeanxiety. “Azure!” the grandwizard scolded even as hecast several soothingsentencestothebird.

“What do the reportsspeakof,Magister?”

“Of a massive constructthat tore into the NeosolarPalaceandsetthecityaflame.They say the spell took theshape…” Shannon shook hishead as if alreadydisbelievingthewordshewasabout to utter. “The shape ofareddragon.”

“ARE YOU ALL right?”Shannonasked.

Pressing a hand to hismouth, Nicodemus answered

faintly.“Magister,lastnightIdreamed I was a dragonattackingacity.Ididn’tknowwhichcity…certainlyitwasaNortherncity…”

Shannon coughed.“Nicodemus, your face isvery pale. Have you gottenenoughsleep?”

“No,but—”“I see you’re exhausted,

and this news has clearlygivenyouafright.”

“Magister, I dreamed

thatIchangedintoadra—”“Nicodemus! It’s

understandable that youshould find this news like anightmare. But it was only abad dream, nothing thatshouldexciteserious…”—hisvoice lowered meaningfully—“…investigation.”

Nicodemusstartedagainas he took the old man’smeaning.A glance down thehall showed him that AmadiOkeke was still watching

them. “Magister, I’m sorry. Ihad a nightmare last night,andIdidn’tgetenoughsleep.And this news…it’s all soconfusing.”

“Quite understandable,”Shannon said, resting a handon his student’s shoulder.Azure let out a low, gratingsquawk. “Damn it, notagain,” Shannon complainedloudly. “Nicodemus,helpmeagainwithAzure.”

As soon as he began to

preen the bird, the old manmumbled, “Tell me briefly.”Nicodemus described hisnightmare as quickly aspossible. When he hadfinished, Shannon muttered,“Inthedream,wereyouevertwopersonsatonce?”

“Yes!” he whispered.“Each time, right before thedragon attacked, I was notonly the dragon but also anold fisherman or a solder’swifeorabeggargirlwatching

the dragon. But the beggargirldidn’tseethedragon;shesaw a black cube hanging inthesky.”

Shannon grimaced.“Youwerehavingquaternarythoughts.”

Nicodemuslookedattheold man to see if he wasserious. “I thoughtspellwrights could reachquaternary cognition onlywithpowerfultextscastabouttheirminds.”

“The murderer claimedhecouldmanipulatedreams.Ithoughtitwasanemptyboast,but now I remember historytextsdescribingancientspellsthat could invest sleepingminds with quaternarythoughts. It seems thisnightmarewassenttoyou.”

“So,ifitwassenttome,I couldn’t have caused thedragontoattackthecity?”

“Correct,” Shannon saidwith a slight nod.

“Quaternary thoughts changeperception,nottheworld.It’svital that you know you didnotcausethis.”

Nicodemus let out abreath he did not know hehad been holding. “But whywould he send me such adream?”

“I don’t know. But itdoes imply there is aconnection between themurderer and this dragon.Damn it,what if the creature

issendingdreamstotheothercacographicboys?HowcanIprotect them from that?Regardless, tell no one ofthis.Wewilltalkmoreinthecompluvium.” He squeezedtheyoungerman’sshoulder.

Azure stopped hergrating roar, and Nicodemusfidgeted with his sleeve as athought occurred to him.“Your family, Magister, hasthe Trillinon fire affectedthem?”

Shannon smiled. “Anold friend sent a message inthe last colaboris spell. Myrelatives are safe. Thank youfor your concern. Now then,all of the deans and mastershave been called to anemergency council, which istroublingbecauseourlecturesmust continue. My boy, Ineedafavor.”

Nicodemus’s eyeswidened. “You want me toteach a class?Magister, I’ve

wanted…and I’vepracticed…but I don’t knowif I can do my best underthesecircumstances.”

Shannon nodded. “Iknow, you’ve waited for solong to teach and get thechance now of all times.Today’s news might makethis seem like a trivial task,but it is vital”—he squeezedNicodemus’s shouldermeaningfully—“vitalthatyoumake a good impression.Do

youunderstandme?”“Yes, Magister,”

Nicodemus said,remembering what the grandwizard had said about thesentinelswatchinghim.

“Good.” Shannonreleased Nicodemus’sshoulder. “Given today’snews, no one will object toyourteaching.Theneophytesare all squeakers; not a oneover thirteen.Your disabilitywon’t interfere. The

classroom is in Bolide Hall,third floor, western side.Outline thebasicconceptsofcomposition. After class, goto my quarters and get asmuchsleepasyoucanbeforethe midday meal. I keep anhour bell and the passwordsfor my door in theclassroom’s closet.Use both.You must be rested for ourworkthisafternoon.”

Though the terrifyingnews had fully awakened

Nicodemus, his eyes stillstung with exhaustion. “Yes,Magister.”

“When you wake, eatyour midday meal and findme.”

Nicodemus exhaled. Hereally was going to have toteachaclassdespitetheday’sterrifyingdiscoveries.

Shannon laughed softly.“I know it may seemimpossible, but you mustforget everything happening

todayandbecome lost in thelecture. If you enjoy theteaching, they’ll enjoy thelearning.Areyounervous?”

Nicodemusadmittedthathewas, though“shockedandoverwhelmed,” he said,“would be a betterdescription.”

Shannon grinned.“Understandablyso,butdon’tlet the students know orthey’lldevouryoulikeapackof lycanthropes. If anything,

youwanttoerronthesideofbeingcavalier.”Shannonwasfamous for his emphaticlecturestyle.

Nicodemus decided toemulate his mentor’s style.Thatmeantsomehowbottlingup his growing fears andhopesabouttheprophecy.

“Well then,” Shannonsaid with a nod. “Off withyou,then,oryou’llbelate.”

Nicodemus turned forthestairs.

“Oh, I justremembered,”Shannoncalledafterhim.“Youshouldknowthat one boy raises a bit oftrouble and…” The oldwizard’s voice died.Nicodemus stopped andlookedback.

Shannon was frowning.“You should know this boy,hemaybeacacographer.”

CHAPTERThirteenNicodemus jogged throughshaftsofsunlight thatpouredinfromrectangularwindows.Outside the hallway shone asky so blue it might havebeen enameled. The crisp

autumnair smelledof smokefromthebreakfastfires.

His first compositionclass andhewasgoing tobelate.

He tried to focus on theupcoming lecture but hismind wandered. The realworld did not seem real.Northern sentinels wereinvestigatinghimformurder.An inhuman killer washunting him for reasonsunknown. His lost hope of

fulfilling the ErasmineProphecywas returning.Andinresponse…

…in response, he wasgoing to teach introductoryspellwritingtosqueakers.

Itallseemedinsane.Magister knew what he

was doing, he told himselfwhile turning a corner anddashing up a broad staircase.After all, he was thecacographic apprentice,Shannon the grand wizard.

Clearly he should handle thethirteen-year-olds while theold man dealt with the trulyfearful forces of zealoussentinels, academic factions,andinhumanmurderers.

Just then he reached hisclassroom door and steppedinside.Theroomwasorderly,square, filled with rows ofdesks. Thewallswerewhite,thearchedwindowswide.

However, the twodozenstudents dressed in neophyte

robes were in chaos. Theboys huddled around thewindows.Somewereyelling,apparently to anotherunsupervisedclassinthenexttower over. Others werespitting out of the windows,undoubtedly trying to hit thesleeping gargoyles severalfloorsbelow.

The girls hadcongregated on the oppositesideof the room.Most satattheir desks, arguing or

laughing.Afewwereplayinga game that involved singingandclapping.

“Oh…” Nicodemusheardhimselfsay,“…hell.”

The room fell silent.Asone,twodozenchildishfacesturnedtowardhim.

It was then thatNicodemus realized he hadbeenwrong:Shannonwasnotdealingwiththetrulyfearful.The terror that sentinels andmurderersmight induce—

great though it might be—was nothing compared to thedread inspired by two dozenprepubescentstudents.

“You’re not MagisterShannon,” said a pale boywithamopofbrownhair.

Nicodemus mostcertainlywasn’t.Theoldmanwouldhavemarched into theroom, blustering with jokesand commands. He wouldhavehadthesqueakersracingfortheirseatsinanticipation.

“I’m NicodemusWeal,”he announced with aconfidence he did not feel.“Magister Shannon’sapprentice.I’llbegivingyourfirst lecture on composition,sotakeyourseats.”

Shockingly, theneophyteswenttotheirdesks.The boywith the brownhairraised his hand. WhenNicodemusnodded,heasked,“Why don’t we haveMagister Shannon? Where

areallthewizards?”Nicodemus cleared his

throat. “Magister, like theotherwizards,hasbeencalledtoanimportantcouncil.”

“Did he tell you thenewsfromtheNorth?”askeda tall girl with short blackhair.

Nicodemus started toreplybutthenrealizedhedidnot know how muchinformation hewas supposedto share.He took in a breath

andsaid,“I’mnotsureifI’mallowedtotellyou.”

“Or maybe you don’tknow,” thebrown-hairedboysaid in a tone so earnest it—just barely—diffused hisconfrontationalwords.

“Maybe I don’t,”Nicodemus admitted. “Butyou bring up an excellentpoint:Ididn’tsayifIactuallyhad heard the news; myphrase simply suggested Ihad.”

Theboyfrowned.“Thatmightseemtrivial,

but it’s a good place to startwhen talking aboutspellwriting.Why might thatbe?”

Silence.Morefrowns.“Why would I choose

wordsthatmakeitsoundasifIknowmorethanIdo?WhymightIwanttousesuchself-aggrandizinglanguage?”

“Becauseyoucan’tbeateacher without it?” the

brown-haired boy askedsnidely.

Though flushed withembarrassment, Nicodemuslaughed.Afewotherstudentsweresmiling.

“Perhaps,” he admitted.“I was thinking more thatsuch language en-couragesyoutostopthinkingaboutthenewsandstartthinkingaboutme,whichwouldhavehelpedfocus you on the lecturematerial. Regardless, you

muststartthinkingaboutsuchthings now; if you are tobecome wizards, you mustquestion how language istrying to manipulate you.What is it pushing you toassume?Howisitdistractingyou?”

Theboyraisedhishand.ButthistimeNicodemus

grinned at him. “Put yourhand down, lad. I’m notgoing to tellyou if Iactuallydid hear the news from the

North. That was going to beyour next question, wasn’tit?”

Theboynodded.“Goodlad.Persistenceis

spellwriting’smost importantingredient. What’s yourname?”“Derrick,Magister.”

Nicodemus widened hiseyes. “Derrick Magister?You’re awizard already?”Afew of the students laughed.Theboyfrowned.“I—”

Nicodemus put his hand

to his mouth in mocksurprise. “But you’re soyoung!”Afewmorestudentslaughed.

“Imeantyou,Magister,”Derrick said in a toneheatedenoughthatNicodemusknewheshouldstop.

“Well, I’m flattered,Derrick. But as I mentioned,I’m only an apprentice.” Heturnedtotheclass.“Thismaybehorribleforyou,buttodayyou’ll have to call someone

over twenty by his firstname!”

Afewamusedsmiles.“Let’s practice.” He

pointed to the girlwith shortblackhair.“Yourname?”

“Ingrid.”He pointed to himself.

“Myname?”She opened her mouth

but only blushed. Herneighbor leaned over, butNicodemus rushed in. “No,no, you’re ruining the

obnoxious-new-teachereffect.”

This won him a fewmorenervouslaughs.

The smiling girl onlygrewredder.

“Nnnn…” he started forher.“Nnnnicooo…”

She continuedexperimentally,“Nicodermis?”

He squawked, “I soundlikeaskindisease.”

Genuinelaugher.

“Sorry to pick on you,Ingrid, but it’s Nicodemus.”He turned to the class. “So,now all of you, my not-a-skin-disease-nameis?”

As the class laughinglysaid his name, Nicodemusnoticed the sunlight by thewindows began to shimmer.“Well then, let’s startproperly,” he said, movingtowardthewindow.“Thisisashort lecture, and I’ll try tomakeitlivelyif…”

He paused. Theshimmering air moved awayfrom him. Warmth spreadacross his cheeks. Only withan effort could he stop hissmilefromwilting.

“…make it lively if youpay close attention.”Hekepthis tone casual even thoughhe was now certain asubtextualized spellwright,most likelyasentinel,wasintheroom.

“So, how does one

acquire magic language?” heasked, turning to the class.“Reallyit’snodifferentfromlearning a verbal ormathematical language.First,we learn thesymbols.Verballanguages use letters,mathematical languagesnumbers, magical languagesrunes.However, anyonewitha quill and an inkhorn canforge mundane text. Anyonewith eyes can see mundanetext. But to see or forge

magical text, one must beborn with a magicallyreceptivemind.”

The boy with brownhair,Derrick,leanedoverandwhisperedloudlytoafriend.

Nicodemus walkedtoward the boys. “Note thatwhen spellwrights speak of‘literates,’ they are speakingof those who might achievemagical literacy.All of us inthis roomare literate;wearefortunateenoughtobeamong

the few born with magicallysensitiveminds.”

He stopped beforeDerrick,whowasnowforcedtostophiswhispering.

“Why are most humansbornmagically illiterate?” heasked rhetorically. “Someauthors—sadlyafewwizardsamongthem—believethattheCreator has privilegedspellwrights, that we areinherently better than theilliterates. Some authors feel

wearemeanttorulesociety.Iwillremindyou—asMagisterShannonremindedmewhenIwas a neophyte—that all ofour parents are illiterate.Without illiterates wewouldn’t exist. Indeed, weowe them a great debt. Wearen’t meant to rule, but toserve—”

Derrick spoke up. “Idon’t understand. Whywouldn’tweexist?”

Nicodemus studied him.

“Spellwrights can’t producechildren. Moreover, theilliterate life is harder thanours.”

“I’m sorry, Nicodemus,but I still don’t understand.”Derrick’s tone seemedearnest, but the boys aroundhimweresnickering.

Nicodemusnarrowedhiseyes “What don’t youunderstand?”

“Why we can’t producechildren.” This sponsored a

waveofnervoustittering.“Spellwrights are

sterile,” Nicodemusanswered, keeping theembarrassment from hisexpressiononlywithsupremeeffort.

“You mean we’reclean?” Derrick asked, hisvoice cracking withamusement. His neighborsbrokeintoopenlaugher.

“No, Derrick,”Nicodemus said, staring

straightattheboy.IfDerrickwas going to force the issue,best to get it over with. “Imean that spellwrights can’tconceive children when theyhavesex.”

Theroomnowrangwithlaughter. Nicodemuswondered if he could everregaintheclass.

“Sex?”Derricksaidwithcounterfeit shock and raisedhishands tohischeeks.“Oh,myvirginears!”

“Oh, your virgineverything else,” Nicodemusshotbackinadeadpantone.

The laughter rose to acrescendo.Derrick’spalefaceflushedscarlet.

Nicodemus hurried tothe front of the class. “Soback to learning magicallanguage. We’ve establishedthat you all have literateminds. So armed, you canlearn to forge runes withinyour muscles. And, as with

any language, you will needto build a vocabulary andunderstand the grammargoverning that vocabulary.Afterthat,youwilllearnhowto move the runes throughyour bodies, how to stringthem together in sentences,and finally how to cast themoutintotheworld.”

The laughter had died,and now two dozen smilingfaces were fixed on him.Encouraged, Nicodemus

pressedon:“Thatiswhyyouhave attended anatomylectures and why you willperformdissections.Learningthe muscles and bones isespecially important. Youmight want to wrap oneparagraph around yourhumerus and another aroundyour ulna, and so forth.Anyquestions?”

Derrick’shandshotup.Nicodemus rolled his

eyes. “Let me rephrase: any

questions aboutspellwriting?”

Smiling, the boydropped his hand, producinganotherroundoflaughter.

Nicodemus nodded. “Sothen,let’stalkaboutdifferentmagical languages.Threeareknown to all magicalsocieties and hence areknown as the commonlanguages.Jejunusis thefirstsuchlanguageyouwill learn.Common languages are

relatively weak but stillimportant. Anyone who isfluent inacommonlanguagecan teach it to anotherspellwright.”

He held up a finger.“However, being futurewizards,youwillspendmuchmoretimeworryingabouttheuncommon languages, whatwe call ‘higher languages.’All higher languages arecontrolledbyspecificmagicalsocieties. For instance, we

wizards control NuminousandMagnus.Unlikecommonlanguages, higher languagescannot be taught by justanyone. I can forge both theNuminous and the Magnusalphabets,butIcouldn’tteachthem to you without the aidof amagical artifact called atome.”

Nicodemus began topace,headingfirsttowardthedoor. “Tomes are beautiful,massive books. Through

contactwiththem,apowerfulauthor may acquire a higherlanguage.Currently there areonlythreeMagnustomesandthree Numinous tomes. Wehave a pair of them here inStarhaven. Now, theseartifacts are importantbecause…”

Heat spread acrossNicodemus’s cheeks. Hestopped.Itwasonlythenthathenoticedaslightshimmerinthe air a few paces from the

door.Another subtextualized

spellwright? He felt hisstomach knot. A secondsentinel? Or was someoneelsespyingonhim?

He forced thesequestions from his mind andturnedbacktotheclassroom.“Sorry. As I was saying,tomes are important becausethey protect a magicalsociety’s control of alanguage. Consider that even

if you attain fluency inNuminous or Magnus, youcan’t sneakoff and teach thehierophants or thehydromancershowtowriteinour high languages. You’dneed a tome to do that.However, you might stillwrite wizardly spells forthem; that’s why the Orderwould hunt you down if youranaway.”

He paused to slip hisarmsoutofhissleeves.“Now

for a demonstration. I havebegunforgingtherunesforasimpleMagnussentence. I’mformingtheruneshere,inmyforearm flexormuscles.Nowthe growing sentence spillsinto my closed fist. Spellsmust fold into a properconformation before theybecome active. I’m helpingthe sentence fold now. Whocanseetherunes?Raiseyourhands.”

A few hands went up;

Derrick’swasone.Nicodemus smiled and

shookhishead. “Tsk tsk tsk.Everyone who has raised ahandislying.Itisimpossibleto see the runesof amagicallanguage unless you arefluentinthatlanguage.”

The class laughed,Derrickloudestamongthem.

When they quieted,Nicodemus began again. “Inanycase,byflickingmyhandopen…thusly…I cast the

spellintotheair.Ifyouwerefluent inMagnus, youwouldsee a glowing line of silverrunesfloatingintheairlikearibbon caught in an upwardbreeze.”

He looked hard at hisstudents. “Now, when I castthe spell, some of youmighthave heard the ringing of adistant bell or felt slightlysick. Others may feel theroom isbecomingwarmerorbrighter. This is not a

coincidence.Youare sensingmy spell but not in anysystematic way. This isbecause the magicallysensitive mind displacesperception of unknown orhiddenmagicaltexttooneofthe mundane senses. Thisphenomenon is known assynaesthesia. It’s a difficultword, two terrible trochees. Iwant everyone to say it withme:SIN-es-THEE-zhaa.”

Theclassechoedhimin

monotone.He nodded. “Most

synaesthetic reactions gounnoticed unless thespellwright is watching forthem. They are also unique,meaning everyone has adifferent synaestheticsensation.”

The girl with the shorthairraisedherhand.“What’syourreaction?”

Nicodemus glanced atthewindow. “Around hidden

spells,warmthspreadsacrossmy cheeks. It’s a bit like ablush. Now, it takes moststudents years to identifytheir synaesthesias. So don’tfeelbadifyoudon’t—”

He stopped. Perhapsbecausehewas talkingabouthissynaestheticreaction,heatspread across his entire face.Hisheartbegantobeatfasteras his mind filled withthoughts of subtextualizedsentinels.

He looked back at thedoor and jumped when hesaw a man dressed in black.The newcomer nodded atNicodemus. “I’m to take thestudents back to their towerswhenyourlecture’sdone.”

“Oh,” an embarrassedNicodemus said as herecognizedthemanasoneofthe neophyte preceptors. “Ofcourse,wecanendnow.”

The warmth was slowlyfading from his cheeks and

his heart was slowing. Heturned to the class. “Well, Icongratulateyouonsurvivingmy first lecture. Now pleaseform a line heading out thedoor for your preceptor.Derrick,Iwillspeakwithyouprivately.”

AS THE EXCITEMENT ofteaching began to dissipate,Nicodemus rubbed his eyesand again felt the sting ofexhaustion. He wondered

who had been watching hislecture and what impressionhehadmade.

“Am I in trouble?” asullenvoiceasked.

Nicodemus looked up.The classroom was emptyexceptforDerrick,whostoodbefore him staring at thefloor,hisarmscrossed.

“Not in the least.”Nicodemus sat andwithdrewpaper and quill from one ofthe student desks. On one

side of the page he wrote“angel,”ontheother“angle.”

“Have a seat, Derrick,and read this.” He held outthepaper.

Derrick compliedwithout looking him in theface. “Angel,” he said afterglancingatthepaper.

Nicodemus turned thesheetover.“Andthis?”

“Angel,” Derrickrepeated.

Nicodemus handed

Derrick a blank piece ofpaper and the quill. “Nowwritetheword‘angle’onthispaper.”Theboyscrawledout“angel.”

Nicodemus exhaledslowly.“Derrick,stopmeifIamwrong, but you have notbeen doing well in yourstudies, even though youunderstand everything that’sgoingon.”

The boy’s facedarkened, but he did not

speak.Nicodemus continued in

asoftertone.“You’reasharplad.Itwasdifficulttokeepupwithyouasateacher,andI’msorryifIwashardonyou.”

“You weren’t—” theboystartedtosay.

“My guess is you useyour wit, your ability todisrupt a lecture, to distractothers from seeing that thereissomethingwrongwithyou.IsaythisbecauseIwasonce

inasimilarsituation.Doyouunderstand?”

The boy’s mouthsoftened. He glanced up.“No.”

Nicodemus held up thepaper. “This reads ‘angle.’”Heturneditover.“Thisreads‘angel.’ I can easilydistinguish between themonly because when I wrotethem down, I put a dot on acorner of the angel side. Ifsomeone else had written

them and asked me to readthem,asIdidtoyou,Iwouldhaveseenthedifferenceonlywith great concentration. Ihavetriedmywholelifetobedifferent and have failed. Istillmisreadandmisspell.Doyouunderstandnow?”

“Alittle.”“Good. Now listen to

me:thereissomethingwrongwith you, just as there issomething wrong with me.Half the world will tell you

that you’re worthless andstupid; theotherhalfwill tellyou that there’s nothingwrongwithyouatall.Afewmight even say yourdisabilityisagift.”

Nicodemuspausedasheconsidered how all thelisteners in the room mightinterpret his words. “Thetruth is that you are neitherbroken nor gifted; you areonlywhatyoumakeyourselfinto.Inthatregard,youandI

are no different than anyother student. No amount ofclassroom antics will protectyoufromtheworlduntilyourealizethis.”

“I…I don’t understand,Magister.”

“Don’tcallmeMagister.I’mnot awizard, andmaybethey’ll never let me becomeone. And it’s fine that youdon’t understand. I didn’tunderstanditmyselfuntiljustnowwhenIhad toexpress it

inwords.And at your age, Idon’t know if I could haveunderstood or cared.But canyourememberwhatIsaid?”

Theboynodded.“Repeatitforme.”He repeated

Nicodemus’swordsverbatim.“The fact that you can

remember my speech soprecisely means that you arenot without certain talents,which some of us have. Inany case, promise that you

will always keepwhat I saidinyourmind.”

The boy promised, andsuddenly Nicodemus had tostifle a yawn. Silently, hethankedShannonfororderinghimtonapbeforelunch.

“May I go now?” theboyaskedglumly.

Nicodemus nodded.“Yes,yes.Catchupwithyourclassmates.Youdon’thavetomention this conversation. Ifthe preceptor asks, tell him I

scolded you for beingdisrespectful.” He smiled attheboy.

Withoutaword,Derrickleaped up from his seat andhurriedaway.

Nicodemus yawnedagain and sat for a momentwith his elbows on the desk,resting his exhausted head.Hewasabouttostandwhenasound made him look uptowardthedoor.

Heexpectedtoseemore

evidence of subtextualizedsentinels. Insteadhe saw thatDerrick hadn’t left but wasstandinginthethreshold.

“Is something wrong?”heasked.

“No,” the boy said,lookingNicodemusintheeyefor the first time. “But…thankyou,Magister.”

CHAPTERFourteenWhen Deirdre regainedconsciousness, shewas lyingonthefloor,crying.

Kyran knelt beside her,runninghishandsthroughherhair and telling her that

everythingwouldbeallright.Above him stretched a

blank stone ceiling. Theywere back in their Starhavenquarters.

Slowly her eyes dried.“Whathappened?”sheasked.Her stomach ached and hermouthandthroatburned.

“Weweresubtextualizedand spying on the boy’slesson when anothersubtexualized spellwright,most likely Amadi Okeke,

arrived,” Kyran rumbled.“YoufellintoaseizureandIcarriedyouhere.”

She sat up. “Did thesentineldetectus?”

Heshookhishead.“Anddotheotherdruids

suspectanything?”Againaheadshake.“Thank Bridget and

Boann both,” she mumbledwhilewipinghermouth.Theback of her hand came awaycovered with soggy bits of

bread.She looked at her

protector.“Vomit. Came up when

you were seizing. Youinhaledsomeofit.Ihadtextson hand to clear your lungs.But I can’t promise yoursafetyifthefitsgrowworse.”

“Such is the divineillness,”Deirdre said, staringat the filth. “It is thegoddess’swill.”

He sniffed. “Is it the

goddess’s will that youshoulddie?”

“Fitting punishment forwhatIdid.”

Kyran’s hand appearedunderherchinandturnedherface to his. “For what wedid.”

She looked away. “Ky,let’snot argue again about ifI’mafoolor ifyou’rea foolor…”

He pulled her close. Hehad undone the wooden

buttons of his sleeve toexpose his arms forspellwriting, and now shepressedhercheekagainsthisbareskin.

“Ky,Idon’tknowwhoIam,” she mumbled into hisshoulder.“WhenIwasseizingthis time, I had horriblevisions.Iwasstandingonthebanks of a Highland riverwhen thiswolfwith aman’sheadandredeyesjumpedonme. And somehow I was

stabbed again and again. Imelted like oil and wentflowingdowntheriver.”

With gentle hands,Kyransmoothedherhairuntilshewascalmagain.

They both stood, hefavoring his left leg asalways. After a tremuloussigh, Deirdre looked aroundtheir austere room: a chest, awashstand, a chamber pot,two beds, Kyran’s oakwalking staff leaning against

thewallbythedoor.She sat down by her

pillow.As Kyran joined her, a

rat scurried within a nearbywall. “Tell me of yourinterviewwiththeboybeforehe taught,”Kyran saidwhilehandingheracleantunic.

“Frustrating.”Shewipedherface.“He’sfrightenedandresists manipulation. Likelyhe’ll tell Shannon. But atleast he understood what I

said.It’saseedthatwillgrowlater.”

Kyran’s eyes narrowed.“Growwhen?”

She sighed. “Thedemon-worshiperwhocursedhim can’t be far. I don’t likeit,butwhenthefightingstartshe’llseethatIwastellingthetruth.”

Kyran shook his headand began to button up hissleeves. “You’re courtingbattle with a demon-

worshiper merely tomanipulatethisboy?”

“I court nothing.” Shestood.“I’drathersmuggletheboyfromthefastnesstonight,buthe’stoofrightenedbyhisdisability to leave his lifehere.” She began to pace.“Don’t look at me like that,Ky. A clash would be goodfor him. It will strengthenhim for the comingstruggles.”

“Itmightdothat,”Kyran

agreed. “Or it might killhim.”

AS SHANNON LABORED upsteps of the Alacran Tower,Azure gazed through thestairwell’sgeometricwindowscreens. Outside layStarhaven’s northwestquarter. Its many Spirishtowersboastedpyriformbrassdomes. They stood as boldintermediates to the grayLornish steeples to the south

and the white hemispheresthat topped the towers in thenortheastern ImperialQuarter.

At times, Azure couldglimpse the Bolide Gardenfar below. At this height, itseemed only a small brownsquare.LastsummerShannonhad taken new quartersoverlooking the garden.Ongoing renovations hadfilled the place with stoneheapsanddirtpiles.

Inside the stairwell,Azure examined the indigowall tiles and the ceiling’sgeometricmosaics.

Shannon, however,couldn’t appreciate what hisfamiliar saw. He was toobusy wondering if he hadsuccessfully covered histracks. Earlier,whilepretending to researchseveral gargoyles, he hadused a knifelike spell to cutinto their executive texts.

Thatdone,hehadwrittenintothe constructs memories oftalking to him until an hourpastmidday.Then had comethe task of eluding thesentinels Amadi had sent toguardhim.Hopefullythetwofools were still waiting forhimtocomeoutofaprivyintheMarfilTower.

Abruptly, a narrowhallway branched off to theright.WhenShannonstoppedto regain his breath, Azure

wrote teasinglyabouthisageandweakeninglegs.Shannonaffected fatigue and droppedhis shoulder so quickly theparrot was left flapping anddashing off laughingaccusationsofbetrayal.

After Azure glanced upand down the stairwell,Shannoncreptdownthedarkhallway and up a ladder to asmall metal door. Forcenturies, Starhaven’sjanitorial records had listed

the door as broken:“Corrupted tumbler spell:unfrangible.” Janitorial sawno need to fix the door; itopened onto an insignificantgargoyle perch thatoverlooked the northernwalls.

Intruth,thedoorandthelanding beyond were thefiercely guarded secret ofEjindu’s Sons—a politicalfactiontowhichShannonhadoncebelonged.

Azure bobbed her head.She didn’t like the dark,claustrophobicspace.

“A moment longer, oldfriend,”Shannoncooedwhileflicking a glowing mass ofNuminouspasswordsintothedoor’s lock. It sprang openwithanironshriek.

Shannon carefullystepped out onto a narrowlandingandbeheldthebrightlandscape.Tohis left lay thevast, grassy coastal plain.

Before him the westernslopes of the PinnacleMountains stretched away tothe horizon. Green alpineforests,spottedwithscarletorgold aspen thickets, coveredthesteepslopes.

He could make out theskeletons of several deadtrees. It made him think ofwhat Deirdre had said aboutthe Silent Blight and treesdyingacrossthecontinent.

A chill wind tugged at

Shannon’s robes and setAzure flapping to keep herbalance.

The landing itselfwas anarrow slab of gray stonesurrounded by a crenellatedbarricade.To the rightof thedoor, inside a small stonenook, slept an eyelessgargoylewithabat’sfaceanda pudgy infant’s body.Shannonshookitsshoulder.

The spell woke with atwitch. “My father has no

ears,” it croaked. “My fathertaughtme to hear.My fatherhas no eyes; he taughtme tosee. My father is coveredwithcowhide.”

“Construct, you werefathered from a spellbook,”Shannon answered theverification riddle. “And mywisdom was fathered from acodex of Ejindu’s teachings.MynameisAgwuShannon.”

The gargoyle reachedunder its feet, into a stone

recess that held its white-marble eyes. Other, heaviergargoyles would steal theeyesifitsleptwiththemin.

The gargoyle insertedeach marble sphere into itssocket,thenstudiedShannon.“I siphoned a message foryou from the last colaboris.”It drew from its belly aglowing,goldenrectangle.

Shannon took theparagraph. The Numinousrunes felt glassy smooth in

hishands.Hetranslated:

Ejindu’s Sons greetour Brother-in-Exile. Wefearedhehadforsakenus.Since the attack onTrillinon and the horriblefire it unleashed,Astrophell has been inchaos.

We gladly accept theinformation our Brother-in-Exile has offered. Wedo not know if the events

inStarhavenpertaintotheErasmine Prophecies. Wethink it unlikely thatNicodemus Weal is theHalcyon. However, wegladly provide whatanswersandassistancewecan.

ANSWER:We know ofno faction wishing ourBrother or his studentsharm.

ANSWER:We have noknowledge of Mg. Nora

Finn’sbriberormurderer.No Language Primerevivalisknowntous.

ANSWER: We knowlittle ofMg.AmadiOkekeother than that she hassecretly sworn allegianceto the counter-prophecyfaction.

ANSWER: In exchangefor our Brother’s publicpledgeofsupport,weshallgrant him full use of ourStarhaven constructs;

however, at this time, weare unwilling to endangerany of our few Starhavenspellwrights by assigningthemtoyourcause.

We hope thisgenerous supportconvinces our Brother torejoin the Sons in ourstruggle for a united andpeacefulNuminousOrder.

Shannon let out a long,relievedbreath.Thisresponse

to his original message, sentearlier that morning, wasbetter than expected. Herippedthesentencesapartandbegan mulling over theanswers.

The Sons were alwayswell informed of academicpolitics.If theydidnotknowofaplotagainsthim,thenhewas sure none existed. That,takenwith their ignorance ofNora Finn’s briber andmurderer, provided strong

evidence that the creatureShannon had encounteredwas not connected to theacademy.

Amadi’s allegiance tothecounter-prophecyfactionswas more troubling.Sentinelswere prohibited fromwizardly politics: a fact thatdid not stop many sentinelsfrom covertly advancing afaction’sinterests.

More important,Amadi’sallegianceexplained

why the provost—a counter-prophecy supporter—hadappointed her to lead theinvestigation. It alsoexplained her interest inNicodemus’sscarshapedlikean Inconjunct and why shehadwantedtoknowwhattheprovost had thought of it.Amadihadalsoaskedtheboyif he noticed that chaosincreased around him. Shemust suspect thatNicodemuswas not theHalcyon, but the

Storm Petrel—a destroyerpredicted by the counter-prophecy to oppose theHalcyon.

“Magister, how do youanswer?” the bat-facedgargoylecroaked.

Shannon started; he hadforgotten about the Sons’offer of assistance.“Construct,haveyoureadthemessage?”

The spell wrinkled itsbat nose. “I have, as my

authorintendedmeto.”“I do not accuse you,

gargoyle,Isimplyneedsomeanswers. How manyconstructs do the Sonscommand? Do they stillcontrolthecompluvium?”

The gargoyle lifted achubbyhandtostrokealong,batlikeear. “Wedostillholdthatportionof theroofworld.As well as two Lornishtowers and fiveSpirishones.We number fifty-four light-

andmiddle-weightgargoyles;twelve war-weight brutes—only twoofquickness.Thereare also three guardianspells.”

Shannon idly scratchedAzure’s neck and thoughtabout this. “I would requireboth war-quick gargoyles toreside in the compluvium.There must also be enoughmiddle-weight gargoyles toworktheFool’sLadder.”

The bat-faced construct

began stroking his other ear.“Yourpurpose?”

“I may need the wartexts to guard and perhapsevacuate nine cacographicboys.”

The gargoyle blinked.“Theirvalue?”

“They are living,breathing boys,” Shannonsnapped.

The bat-faced thingshrugged.“Thebrutescanbeedited immediately, but the

Fool’s Ladder will take atleast three hours toassemble.”

Shannon took a longbreath. It would have beenbetter if the Sons hadcommitted some of theirmembers. Powerful as war-quick gargoyles were, theywere no substitute for livingauthors. Worse was theasking price. Publiclypledging his support to theSons would end Shannon’s

freedom from politics. Hewould have to commithimself to any cause thefaction chose. Itwouldmakehim,onceagain,agamepieceonabloodyboard.

Shannon slowly exhaledas he thought aboutNicodemus. Withoutwarning, his memory camealive with the image of hislong-dead wife, her darkeyes…

“I pledge myself to

Ejindu’s Sons,” Shannonannounced as he forged aNuminous proclamation ofhisallegiance.

The construct struggledup onto its infant feet toformallyaccepttheparagraphwithabow.

“One more thing,” thegrand wizard said, removinga long cloth-wrapped objectfromhisrobes,“doyouknowofacreatureorconstructthatforms flesh when vital but

once deconstructed becomesthis?” He unwrapped theobject.

The gargoyle made along, frowning study of thesevered clay arm. “No,Magister.”

Shannon grunted.“Thank you, gargoyle. Youhave served me well. I wishyou quiet dreams.” Hebowed.

Clumsily, the constructreturned the bow before

plucking out its eyes andsettling down on the roof tosleep.

Shannon walked backintothetower.Hewasn’tanycloser to discovering who orwhatthemurdererwas,butatleast he had taken steps toconfound the creature’s nextassault.

THINKING MURDER, thecreature stepped through theaspen thicket and grumbled

about Shannon’s failure tomountadefense.Alreadyonedire surprise awaited the oldgoat in Starhaven, and soonthecreaturewouldripanotherlifeawayfromhim.

Hewonderedwhatcouldbe keeping the fool fromresponding.True, themurderinvestigation would preventShannon from alerting thesentinels. And true, the oldhuman probably thought hehad won time by cutting off

thecreature’sarm.The memory of silver

text slicing through tendonand bone made the creatureflex his new hand. Maybehe’d wrench off Shannon’sarmandseeifitcameback.

The creature’s task inStarhaven, though ofparamount importance,wasadull one. And though helooked forward to killingShannon, he desired morepractice matching wits

againstahuman.Hissurvivalmight one day depend onunderstandingthebeasts.

All around the creaturestood white aspen trees. Thechill autumn nights hadlacquered their leaves withbrightyellow.Above,beyondthe brightly colored canopy,stretched a vivid blue skyinterrupted only byStarhaven’s many dark,incongruoustowers.

The creature stopped,

shifted his white cloak, andconsidered the ancient city.Different civilizations haddressed up the towers, butunderneath the humanfrippery stood stones stillChthonic. The flowing ofeach thin bridge into itstowers, the undulation of thewalls—they spoke of stonefluidity.How the humans hadslaughteredtheChthonicracewas a mystery beyond thecreature’scomprehension.

Indeed, the creaturefound human nature itselfmystifying. In groups, thebeasts delighted in codifyinglaws, religions, grammars.Andyet, thecreaturehadyetto encounter a human whodidnotdailycommitacrimeor a sin or both. Worse,humans spoke and wrotecarelessly, erratically—violating their owngrammars, yet easilyunderstanding their own

illogicallanguage.At times, the creature

was amazed he had learnedhuman communication at all.His former master hadallowed him little contactwiththebeasts.

Perhaps more intenseobservation would help. Hehadalreadyeditedagargoylenear the top of the ErasmineSpiresothatitwouldmonitorthewizard’s colaboris spells.Further infiltration of

Starhaven’s gargoyles mightbe useful. The creature hadthought of writing a small,rat-sized gargoyle withaugmented hearing. Such aconstruct could gatherinformation about how thehumanslived.

A scrub jay’s crybrought his gaze downward.Twenty feet ahead lay aclearing where the youngerwizards went to drink stolenwine or roll together in the

grass.The creature walked to

the trees’ edge. His whitecloak matched the aspentrunks. Below stretched asmall clearing of knee-highgrass.

As he waited, thecreature thought aboutShannon. The wizard haddisappointed; this nextcounter-strike might crippletheoldman.

The creature did not

need to return to Trillinonnow that the flawed dragonhadflown.Theotherdemon-worshipers had their orders.That left plenty of time tofindtheboyandreplenishtheemerald—atasksoimportant,it had to be kept secret fromthe other demon-worshipers.The creature had wantedsomething like a challenge,buthecouldn’trisklosingthecacographer.

To the north, a twig

snapped. Moving among thetrees was a short human inblack robes. The plan hadworked; the young wereeasilyswayedbydreams.

Butperhapsthisboywasnot the one he sought.Perhaps Shannon and hewould play another round.Perhaps the old fool wouldput up a fight before thecreaturetoreouthisthroat.

The black-robed humanmovedclosertotheclearing’s

edge.The creature frowned

anddecidedthatheshouldn’twish for a pro-longed matchwithShannon. If theemeraldwere lost, he would have tostartover.

The creature began toforge the long LanguagePrime sentences necessary tocompose a canker curse.TheWar of Disjunction wouldcome sooner if the text hewas writing didn’t rip this

child’s guts into bloodyribbons. The creature’s lipsstretched into a long, lupinesmile.

At theclearing’sedge—peering about with curiouseyes for the beautifulmeadow seen in a dream—wasayoungcacographicboy.

CHAPTERFifteenNicodemus stifled a yawnand opened the door toShannon’squarters.Thefrontroomwasawide,sunlitplacewith an expanse ofTrillinonish carpet, a writing

desk,twobookcases,andfourscrollracks.

Nicodemus removed hisboots and socks in theNorthern fashion and paddedovertothewindows.Outsidethe midday sun poureddazzlinglightontotheBolideGarden.

Once the square hadbeen a lush patch of grasslined with trees. Nicodemushad played among them as aneophyte. But two years ago

the elms had died of anunknowndisease.

Since then janitorialhadundertaken a renovation ofthe entire square. The recentneed to prepare for theconvocation had stopped alllandscaping and left thegardenfullofpaledirt.

The mounds directlybelow Shannon’s quarterswere muddy and dark. Afountainhadoncestoodthere.One of Starhaven’s

underground aqueducts musthaveapoorlysealedoutletatthatspot.

A sudden yawn madeNicodemus’s jaw crack.“Heaven, bless Magister forordering me to nap,” hemurmured. Fingering thehour bell he had taken fromthe classroom, he thoughtaboutwhatShannonhadsaidabout the murderer, thedragon, and the possibilitythat Nicodemus was

connected to prophecy. Theold man’s words filled hisheartwithwildhopeandfear.Then there was the druid.Couldhetrusther?

He fought another yawnand realized that he was tooexhaustedtothinkclearly.Heturnedforthebedroom.

Shannon wasTrillinonish by birth, but hismotherhadbeenDralish.Herinfluence on Shannon’s tastewas seen in the four-post

feather bed that had beenhauled all the way fromHighland.

Sitting on the bed’sedge, Nicodemus examinedthe spherical brass hour bellandtherectangularmouthcutintoitsbottom.

From his belt-purse,Nicodemus drew a foldedpage that he had taken fromShannon’s desk. It containeda one-hour tintinnabulumspell.

Thoughitwascomposedin a common language, thetext had a complicatedstructure. Normally, ifNicodemus concentrated onkeeping therunes fromrearranging, he could brieflytouch such spells withoutmisspelling them. However,hisexhaustionwouldincreasehischancesofmisspelling.Sohebithislipinconcentrationand peeled the spell’s firstparagraphfromthepage.

The white words leapedinto the air around hispinched fingers and pulledthesequentsentencesupwiththem. The paragraphs beganfolding into a rectangularcage.

Nicodemus redoubledhis focus. He had only thisone tintinnabulum;misspellingitwouldprecludehisnap.

At last, the concludingparagraph jumped up and

formed a ball that flewaround within thetintinnabulum cage. Eachtime it struck a textual wall,theballsilentlydeconstructeda rune segment. The spell’scagecouldwith-standtheballfor one hour; after that, theballwouldbreakfreeandringthebell.

Nicodemus inserted thespellintothebell’smouth,setthe device on the bedsidetable, and fell back onto the

featherbed.Hefelthisheadmeetthe

pillow; he felt his breathingslow; he felt his legs jerk asthey sometimes did beforesleep.Buthedidnotfeelasifhewerefallingasleep.Hefeltasifhewere…spinning?

Ascrubjaycried.Nicodemus opened his

eyesand foundhimself lyingin a meadow outsideStarhaven.Herecognized theplace as “the glen”—a

clearingwhere studentswenttodrinkliftedwineortolocklips.

HerehehadkissedAmyHern for the first time. Thathadbeenyearsago.

It had been a quietevening after a brief snowshower.Theireveryfoot-stephad produced a crunch, theirevery breath a plume offeathery vapor. Above themthe sky glowed a solemnwinter lavender that painted

all thebranchespurestblack.Her lips felt chapped againsthis lips; her tongue, hotagainst his tongue. They hadbeenonlyacolytes.

Remembering Amy,Nicodemus winced. She wasno longer Amy Hern butMagistra Amaryllis Hern—alesserwizardinStarfallKeep.Hehadnotseenhersinceherdeparturefouryearsago.Norhad he received any reply tohis messages other than an

impersonal note about hernewlifeinStarfall.

In a lucid moment,Nicodemus realized that hewas dreaming. He sat upexpecting to wake onShannon’s feather bed, butinsteadsatupintheglen.

A neophyte stood to hisright. The boy had his backturned and was lookingtowardtheaspentrees.

Something large wasmoving among the pale

trunks. Its footfalls sentvibrations through theground. Its breath was long,slow,bestial.

Nicodemustriedtostandbuthis legswereclumsy.Hefeltintoxicated.

Thecreaturesteppedoutfrom the trees. Nicodemustriedtolookatitbuthiseyeswould not focus on it. Thething’sbodybillowedupintoamass of blurry pallid flesh.Again he struggled to stand

butonlyfellforward.Hetriedto lookupat thecreaturebutagaincouldnotfocusonit.

The neophyte turned torun. Drunkenly, Nicodemusgotontohisknees.Justthenathin rod of flesh explodedfrom the monster. It shotacross the clearing to impalethe boy’s lower back. Thechildkeptrunning.

Nicodemus tried to cryout but fell forward. Dirtfilled his eyes. With clumsy

hands,heclearedhisvision.Then he was no longer

in the glen. He was in anundergroundcavern.

The ceiling glinted withquartz. The floor shoneuniformly gray. Before himstoodablackstonetablewitha body atop it. A pale cloakcovered the figure. In itsglovedhandslayasmallgemthat glowedgreen.The stonewaslacriform—tear-shaped.

Something twitched at

the light’s edge. It was asmall creature. Its oily blueback was sleek and armoredwith hexagonal plates—anightmarish land turtle. Ithissedas it stumpedforward.Dark tendrils sprouted fromthe creature’s footsteps andgrew into ivy vines withunctuousblackleaves.

A lance of red lightdropped from the ceiling tostrike the turtle’s back.Witha crack, the beast’s shell

shattered.Itscreamedasblueoil flowed out of its brokenshell. A second turtlematerializedandthenathird.

As the turtlesapproached, they trailedwakes of burgeoning blackivy vines. More and moreturtles came in from theblackness. Another lance ofred light shattered thehexagonal plates on acreature’s back. There cametwomoreblastsoflight,then

tenmore.On the table, the body

still lay covered by a whitecloak. Then a wind whippedthroughthecavernandtossedbackthefigure’swhitehood.

The face revealed wasNicodemus’s own. For adizzying instant Nicodemuswas not just himself but alsothe figure lying on the table.He was also the turtlescrawling on the floor and aterrified neophyte running

through the woods back toStarhaven.

As the figure on thetable, he sat up. His cheeksbulged and his lips parted toloose a deafening metallicclanging. A tiny ball wasflying around inside hismouth.

Suddenly Nicodemuswoke in Shannon’s featherbed. He had escaped thenightmare and was staringstraight at the vibrating hour

bellcryingoutitsearsplittingalarm.

CHAPTERSixteenWhen Shannon returned tohis study, he found Amadiransacking the place withthree of her Northernsentinels. Shannonrecognized the first—a

slender male Ixonian—asKale, Amadi’s personalsecretary.Theothertwowerethe fools she had sent tofollowhim.

Upon seeing him, thestrangers began forgingcensor spells—enmeshingtexts that could wrap aroundhis head and prevent himfromspellwriting.

Shannon, ignoring them,walked behind his desk andset Azure on his chair. He

removed several walnutsfroma jaronabookshelf. “Ibelieve an explanation isdue,”hesaidmildly.

Amadi answeredtensely: “Magister, youdeliberately deceived thesentinelsIsenttoguardyou.”

Shannon offered awalnut to Azure’soutstretched foot. “I wasbeing guarded? I didn’tnotice. Your sentinels mustwrite excellent subtexts. I

wonder how they lost me.”Hesmiledatthetwosentinelswhohadbeenfollowinghim.

They made a comicalpair.Onewastallandfatwithgoldenbuttonsonhis sleeve.The otherwas short and thinwithsilverbuttons.

Azure cracked thewalnutinherbeakandpickedoutthemeat.

Amadi looked at theshort sentinel. “In theMarfllTower,”themanblurted.“He

went into a privy and thenwrote a text to climb to abridgeabove.”

Shannon laughed andaccepted Azure’s emptywalnut shells. “You flatterme, Magister, to claim I’mcapable of such a feat atmyage.” He laughed again. “Infact, I left the privy by thebalcony so that I couldquestion the gargoyle thatempties the latrine. Surelyyourcompanionwatchingthe

balcony saw me.” He raisedhis eyebrows at the fatsentinel.

Themanlookedaway.“Oh, how

embarrassing,” Shannon saidthrough a half-smile. “Youdidn’t consider that theprivymight have more than oneexit. Well, no matter; youmay question the balconygargoyle. It will recall ourconversation.” He handedAzure another walnut. “I

examined other gargoylesafterward.”Helistedthem.

Amadi eyed herunderlings. “Go and verifywhatMagistersays.”

With a commotion ofbobbing heads, the twohurriedfromthestudy.

“AndKale,”Amadisaidto her secretary, “you maydeliver those messages now.Interruptmeonlywithurgentnews.”

The young Ixonian

nodded and left, closing thedoorbehindhim.

Amadi, pushing adreadlock from her face,turned back to Shannon.“Magister, I thought we hadanunderstanding.Iamtryingtoproveyourinnocence.”

“Amadi,Isimplydidnotknow I was being…guarded,asyouputit.”

“Magister, I’m not achild anymore.” A hint ofpainsoundedinherotherwise

controlled voice. “You knewyouwerebeingwatched.”

“Amadi,Idon’t—”“Very well.” Her tone

was testy. “So there will benofuturemisunder-standings,I tell you now that we’veplaced a watch on yourquarters above the BolideGardens. We did this afterfollowing Nicodemus there.Wedid not disturb his sleep,but after he left my authorssearched the place, taking

care not to disturb anything.If you persist in thissuspicious behavior, we willhave to search it morethoroughly.” She paused foreffect.“Alsowehavewrittenrobustwardsonthedoorsandwindows.”

Shannon raised aneyebrow.

“No author or text willbeabletoenterorleaveyourquarterswithoutdisspellingaward. Iwould advise against

such an action; anyoneattempting to sneak inoroutofyourquarterswillbecutintwo at the waist. Of course,the sentinels watching yourquarters will disarm thewards when you enter orleave.”

Shannon made noattempt to hide his irritation.“Your reaction seemsextreme considering that youhave no evidence ofmisconductonmypart.”

“None indeed? Do youcaretoexplainwhyyourfacelooks like a lion’s scratchingpost?”

Herolledhisblindeyes.“I told you a spellbookdeconstructed when I wasworking late last night. I canfetchwhat’s leftof thebook,severalbooks,actually.”

“Ofcourseyoucan.Andthe men I sent to confirmyour story about researchinggargoyles, no doubt the

constructswillexonerateyou.You’re a linguist studyingtextualintelligence.Nodoubtyouedited—”

“Magistra, you go toofar! I have answered yourevery question, allowed youtointerruptmyresearch,evengiven you access to mystudents. And how do yourepay my good will? Byspying onme, by ransackingmylibrary,byaccusingmeoftampering with academy

constructs.”Amadipursedherlips.“SoIwillsayagain,”he

continued, his voice calmer,“that you owe meanexplanation.” He held outanother nut for Azure.“Without one, I mustcomplainto—”

“Two of your studentshavedied.”

The walnut droppedfrom his hands. “What didyousay?”

“Two of your studentshave died. Adan ofRoundtower and EricEverson.Adanwas foundonthe smithy roof. It seems hejumped from the WeshurstBridge. His older brotherperished in the Astrophellfire. The other boy, Eric,came running in from theforestwithamisspell tearingup his insides. The curseworkedhimtoexhaustion.Inhis robes, the boy had a

Numinous scroll—seems hestole themanuscript andwasplayingwithitintheforest.”

“Blood of Los,”Shannon whispered and satheavily in his chair. Azureclimbedontohisshoulderandbegan preening hisdreadlocks.

Amadi took the seat infrontofhisdesk.“There’snosign that either death wasmurder. But in light of whathappened to Nora Finn, I

believesomethingisawry.SoI will ask you again:Magister, where have youbeenforthepasthour?”

“IspeakthetruthwhenIsay that I was talking togargoyles,” Shannon saidnumbly.

Themurdererhadstruckfaster than he had thoughtpossible. More terrifying,Shannonhadissuedorderstoall wizards supervisingcacographers that their

charges were not to leaveStarhaven. How could themurderer have induced theboys to disobey and escapetheirteachers?

The murderer had saidhe could wield dreams asothersmightwieldanet.Themonster must somehow beusing dreams to compel theboys to stray out ofStarhaven’s protective walls.“Creator forgive me!” hewhispered to himself. This

changedeverything.Amadi began to ask a

question about the two poorboys.

He stopped her andwithdrew the severed clayarmfromhisrobes.Thethingwas beginning to lose itsshape.Nevertheless,helaiditonthetable.

While Amadi stared atthe arm, he described NoraFinn’sprivate libraryandhisfightwiththemurderer.

Amadi stared at himwith a neutral expression.“Magister, you expect me tobelievethis?”

His tone grew moreurgent. “Go to the GimhurstTower; see Nora’s privatelibraryforyourself.”

“According toyour tale,thedeconstructingspellbookswill have destroyedeverything in the privatelibrary—even your attacker’sweapon. And you said the

creature ran off with Finn’sresearchjournal.Therewouldbenothingtofind.”

Shannonhadnotthoughtofthis.“Butthearm.”

Looking at the limb,Amadi tooka longbreath. “Ihaveneverheardofanything,living or magical, thatchanges from flesh to clay.Perhapssuchatransformationwas possible on the ancientcontinent. Perhaps a deitycould achieve such a thing

withagodspell.”Shannon felt his hands

go cold. Godspells wereimmensely powerful andornatetextswrittenbydeities.They were also exceedinglyrare.

Amadi was studyingShannon’s face. “Magister,do you believe you con-fronted a god last night?Surely other authors wouldhavedetectedthepresenceofadeityinStarhaven.”

She was right. “Perhapsnotagod,butagodspell,”hesaid quickly. “Amadi, youmust believe me. There areforces acting here beyondanything we’ve knownbefore.”

She paused and thenasked her next question in asofter tone: “Magister, haveyou ever had visions notrelated to quaternarythoughts?”

He blinked. “No, of

course not. You think I’mmad?”

“Tell me about yourrelationship to the druidDeirdre.”

“Druid?” he asked inconfusion. “Deirdre?Nothing, nothing. She askedfor an interview withNicodemus, and to help theconvocation I agreed to—”He stopped. “You think I’mmad and it has something todowiththedruid?”

Amadi shook her head.“With the boy. He has a…powerabouthim.Whydidn’tyoutellmeofhisrelationshipto prophecy during our firstinterview?”

“Because there is noprovenrelationship.”

Amaditiltedherheadtoone side. “It seems the boyunknowingly drawsspellwrights—you, possiblythe druid—to his cause.Consider that his peers are

dying of misspells. Perhapshe is responsible for…whatyouperceived.”

“What are youimplying?”

“Thinkoftheboy’sscar—a Braid broken by anInconjunct. The counter-prophecy predicts that theStorm Petrel will ‘untie theHalcyon’sweavings’andthathe will ‘break the braids theHalcyon ties between thehumankingdoms.’”

Shannon stood andbegan to pace. “Amadi, youquestion my sanity whilebelieving that a merecacographic apprentice is theAnti-Halcyon? That’smadness. How can youbelieve thatacrippledboy isthe Storm Petrel? Thechampion of the demon-worshipers?”

“I look for theories thatcanexplaintherecentdeaths.This theory is the only one

thatcanexplainthemall.”Shannon shook his head

vehemently.“ButI’vespokentotheprovost.HeagreesthatNicodemus’sscarsweremostlikelytheresultofafanaticalmotherwhobrandedhim.”

“I’ve since talked toProvost Montserrat. HebelievesweshouldreevaluateNicodemus.”

Shannon felt nauseated.“You thinkNicodemuskilledtheothercacographers?”

She shook her head.“Nicodemus was lecturingneophytes when the youngonesdied.Besides,thereisnoevidence that either boy wasmurdered. As I said, thecounter-prophecies teach usthat turmoil shall followwherever the Storm Petrelflies. If I am right,Nicodemus isunawareofhistrue nature but is drivingthesehorribleeventsbysomeunknownpower.”

Shannonstoppedpacing.Thingswouldbecomechaoticindeed if Amadi publiclydeclared that the counter-prophecywascomingtopass.He needed to stop her. Heneeded to protect the DrumTower.Ifhewerefreeforjustanother day, he could sneakthe cacographic boys to thecompluvium, where thegargoyles would protectthem.

“Magister,”Amadi said,

“you must admit thatNicodemusmight be the oneofcounter-prophecy.”

Suddenly Shannon sawhis opening. Itwould requirea bit of finesse, a bit of abluff. Hewalked back to hischair but did not sit. “Isuppose your faction will bepleased that you are stirringup excitement about thecounter-prophecy.”

Amadi’s eyes narrowed.“Sentinelsmaynotplayinthe

gameoffactions.”Time for his bluff.

“There are some who couldlink you to the counter-prophecy faction. And ifNicodemusisdangerous,thenit might seem that you areletting him run a little wild,letting the bodies stack up alittlehigher,collectingalittlemore blood to bolster yourclaims about the counter-prophecy.”

Amadi’s face became

blank.“Whatareyousaying,Magister?”

“I amsaying that if youintend to make claims aboutcounter-prophecy you hadbest keep a tight watch onNicodemusandtherestoftheDrum Tower. You had bestdoallthatyoucantopreventfurther deaths. If you don’t,maybe a rumor will implythat you shirked your dutiesso as to breed fear and sobuild support for your

faction.”Amadi grunted. “You

are trying to force me toprotect the cacographic boysfrom your imaginarymonster?”

Hesatdown.“Wewouldbothgetwhatwewant.”

“I don’t take well tothreats, Magister. I’m notyourstudentany longer.Youcan’t possibly connectme toany faction. Besides, I haveprecious few sentinels

available tomeas it is.Withthe convocation in progress,the provost’s officers arestealingmyeveryfreeauthorto look after our guests. Butwhat you say does makesome sense.” She paused.“Very well, I’ll placetwoguards before the DrumTower at night and two tofollow Nicodemus. But I’malso assigning two to followyou.”

Shannon suppressed a

smile. “I shall welcome theprotection. But we have tomake sure the endangeredboys don’t leave Starhaven.I’ll reem-phasize my ordersthat cacographers are not tobe let out of doors.You hadbest seal the Drum Tower atnight and write protectivewards on the doors andwindows.I’llneedpasswordsin case I have to reach thestudents.”

Amadi nodded slowly.

“Verywell.”Shannonsighedinrelief.

“Amadi, you’ll be glad youtookmy advice.Now Imustgotomyfieldresearchinthecompluvium.Nicodemuswillmeet me there; I will leadyoursentinelsoverfromhere.Theycanwatchoverusboth.Laterwe’vemoreresearchintheMainLibrary.”

Amadi leaned forwardand spoke earnestly:“Magister, I will go to the

Gimhurst Tower and searchfor Finn’s private library.But,asIhavesaid,thereisnodirect evidence that either ofthe boys was murdered.Please keep an open mindabout the counter-prophecy.Consider that Nicodemusmight be the Storm Petrel.”Shepaused.“Isuspectwearedealingwithaforcefarmoredirethanasimplemurderer.”

“Magistra,” he said, “Isuspectthesamething.”

DEIRDRE CALMLY REGARDEDAmadi. A moment ago, thewoman had appeared at herchamber door and demandedaninterview.

“WhatisyourinterestinNicodemus Weal?” thesentinel asked, sitting onKyran’ssleepingcot.

Deirdre sat on theopposite cot. She hadexpected the question. “Asyou observed,AmadiOkeke,

IhadhopedtheboymightbethePeregrinesafelydeliveredtome.But his keloid dashedmyhopes.”Itwasnottrulyalie—the keloid had dashedher hopes…that Nicodemuswouldbeeasilywonover.

Amadi noddeddistractedly. “Druid, doesyour Order know of acounter-prophecy?”

“I have never heard ofsuchathing.”

“TheErasmineCounter-

Prophecy is not commonknowledge, even amongwizards. It predicts that amalevolent spellwright willarise to become theHalcyon’s opposite, achampionofchaosreferredtoas the Petrel or the StormPetrel.”

“And this champion,”Deirdre asked, “might slaythe Halcyon and help thedemonsinvadeourland?”

The sentinel nodded.

“The counter-prophecypredicts that unless we canstopit,thePetrelwillbeginacorruption of all language.The demons will completeit.”

Deirdre willed her faceto be calm. “AndNicodemus’s unusual scarand his misspelling makesyou suspect that hemight bethisdestroyer?”

Amadi took a slowbreath. “Doubtless you’ve

heard rumors about…unrestin Starhaven. We havenoticed a number ofdangerous misspells, a fewaccidents, but nothing thatshould concern you as adelegate. As a sentinel, myfirst concern is maintainingsafety throughout theconvocation. To that end, Ientertain all theories of whatmight be causing these oddevents.” She paused. “If thedruids also know of a

counter-prophecy and couldidentifyNicodemusas—”

“Wedonotbelieve in acounter-prophecy,” Deirdreinterrupted.

“But perhaps thoseconcerned with the SilentBlight might thinkdifferently?ShouldIspeaktotheotherdruidicdelegates?”

Deirdre shook her head.“We do not believe in acounter-prophecy of anykind. And the druids are not

at all certain the Blight isconnected toprophecy. I fearwecannothelpyou.”

“Isee.Thankyou,druid,for your time.” Amadi stoodandsteppedtowardthedoor.

Deirdre rose with her.“If there is any other way Ican help, you have only toask.”

Amadi paused by thethreshold. “Perhaps…” shesaid, turningback.“Iwonderif you could tell me…do the

druids know of a constructthat appears to be made offlesh, but once deconstructedbecomesclay?”

The strength seemed todrain from Deirdre’s legs.“Have you encountered sucha creature?” she asked inwhatshehopedwasatoneofdisbelief,notshock.

The sentinel wasstudyingher face. “I surpriseyou.Don’t thinkmemad forasking such a question.

MagisterShannonandIweredebating if such a thing waspossible.”

Deidreforcedherlipstosmile. “I do not think itmadto wonder such things. Wemust always seek newunderstandings.” She paused.“What if Nicodemus truly isthe dangerous spellwright ofyourcounter-prophecy?”

The sentinel shook herhead.“Thereisnoneedtobealarmed.Inlessthanaquarter

hour, I will have two guardsfollowing the boy night andday. His tower will betextually sealed at night.Themoment we have evidencethat he is dangerous orconnected to the counter-prophecy, we’ll censor hismind and lock him up in acellbelowtheGateTowers.”

“Thank you for tellingme.”Deirdrebowed.

Amadi returned thegesture and left. Slowly the

sentinel’s footsteps fadeddownthehall.

“How much of that didyouhear?”Deirdreasked.

“Enough,” Kyran saidfrombehindher.“Soitseemsthe black-robeshaveencountered the demon-worshiper you guessed wasnearby.Do I need to explainabout the creature turningfromfleshtoclay?”

She turned and saw hissilhouette glimmer as he let

the invisibility subtextdeconstruct.“No,youbloodydon’t.”

The subtext fell fromKyran’s head, revealing asternexpression. “Weshouldtake the boy now. Ourgoddesscanprotecthimoncewegethimtotheark.”

Deirdrerubbedhereyes.“We can’t. You heard thesentinel;she’splacingguardsaroundtheboy.”Thepressureonhereyelidscausedfloating

orange-blacksplotchesacrosshervision.“Ky,doyouthinkwe could find the author’sbody, kill the demon-worshiper while the creatureissneakingabout?”

“No. The true bodycouldbeanywhere.”

Deirdre swore. “And ifAmadiOkekegets it intoherhead that Nicodemus is thisPetrel, she’ll censor him andsend him to his death in thatprisoncell.”

“He wouldn’t be safefrom the creature whenlockedup?”

She dropped her handsand gave him an exasperatedlook.“Whatwouldhappen ifyoutiedupalambandleftitinthesheeppen?”

He grimaced. “Thelycanthropeswouldcomeoutofthewoods.”

CHAPTERSeventeenNicodemus stared at theflecks of stew that spangledhisemptiedlunchbowl.

Midday sunlight wasstreamingintotherefectory—awideLornishhalllinedwith

tapestries and clear-glasswindows. Above, broadrafters marched across theceiling and provided hangingposts for the academy’sbanners. Farther down thetable, several librarianswhispered about the horriblenewsfromTrillinon.

Using his spoon,Nicodemus began to flattenthe drops of congealing stewon the inside of his bowl. Amash of conflicting emotions

seethedwithinhismind.Half an hour before, he

hadhurriedintotherefectory,heart pounding. Thenightmare had been as vividasthepreviousnight’sdragondream. He had been sure ithad also come from themurderer, but he couldn’timagine why the villainwould sendhimsuchstrangevisions.

He had mulled over thenightmare’s images while

fetchinghis stewand findinga private space to sit. Themore he thought about thedream, the more it seemedthat the episodes of theneophyteandtheturtleswereincongruous. That hadcalmed him somewhat.Mundane nightmares werefilledwithnonsensical shifts.Perhaps the bizarre sequencemeant that the dream wassimplyadream.

Whatever the case,

Nicodemus had told himself,Shannonwouldknowwhattodoabout it; therewasnouseinworryingnow.

He had tried to thinkabout his successful firstcompositionlecturebutendedupfrettingaboutthesentinelswhohadbeenspyingonhim.Did they still think himcapable of murder? Thequestionhadmadehim thinkabout James Berr, themurdering cacographer who

hadlivedsolongago.Didthesentinels think he was asecondJamesBerr?

Then he had thoughtaboutwhatthedruidhadtoldhim. Her words hadawakened a dormant longinginhisheart.Couldheactuallybe the Halcyon? After allthese years of coming toterms with his disability,could his cacography beremoved?

Half of him wanted to

lose himself in dreams ofwhat life might be likeif thedruid were correct. But theotherhalfwaswaryandmorethan a little frightened.Whatifhedared tobelieve thathewas not crippled and then,onceagain,discovered that itwas all a lie? Could hesurvive a seconddisappointment?

Hefelthisbelt-purseforthe magical artifact Deirdrehad given him. A Seed of

Finding, she had called it.Eventhroughcloth,theobjectmadehisfingerstingle.

The artifact’s powerspoketothedruid’ssincerity.However, she was clearlyafter something more thancuring his cacography. Themore Nicodemus thoughtabout it, the more hequestionedhermotives.

“Fiery blood,” hegrumbled, flattening anotherdropofstewwithextraforce.

Then there was theadvice he had given to thesmart-mouthed cacographicboyinhisclass:“Acceptyourdisability and you will befree,”hadbeentheessenceofhis message. It had seemedtrue at the time, but here hewas,ferventlyhopingthathisown disability could beerased.

Did that make him ahypocrite? He brought thespoon to his lips and tapped

its tip against his front teeth.“Yes,”hegrunted,“itbloodywelldoes.”

Suddenly Nicodemuswishedeverythingwould justgo away. If only he couldcrawl back to his room andspend the rest of the dayreading theknightly romancestoredunderhisbed.

AbruptlyDevinthumpedher lunch bowl down on thetable and sat next to him.“Heardthenews?”sheasked.

“That why you look likeyou’ve seen Erasmus’sghost?”

Nicodemus dropped hisspoonwith awooden clatter.“Dev, thank heaven you’rehere! I need to tell…” hisvoicediedasherememberedhispromisetoShannonnottotrust anyone. “…need to tellyou that I taught my firstclass on spellwriting. Itwentwell. But the news was soshocking that…I don’t know

howtofeel.”“None of us does,” she

grumbled, sinking a batteredwooden spoon into her stew.“Nico, do you thinkStarhaventakescareofus?”

“Of course. Most likelywe’d have magical literacypermanently censored fromour minds if we were inAstrophell.”

“But maybe thatwouldn’t be so bad. Do youthink common folk are

distressed by a fire inTrillinon? What’s foreignnewstoapigfarmer?”

“But, Dev, you’d beilliterate.”

She shrugged. “I don’tread anything but janitorialtexts. Sometimes I feel likewe’re just ants in an anthill,crippledantsatthat.Andherecomes King Ant now.” Shenoddedat theraisedstageonthe far side of the hall.Several deans and foreign

spellwrights were standingaroundalongtable.

The provost, sitting in ahigh-backed wooden chair,floated onstage. Even fromhis present distance,Nicodemus could make outthe muris spell billowingunder the arch-wizard’s seat.If he had been closer, hewould have seen anobscenely old man who hadbeenhalffoldedoverbytime.He alsowould have seen the

grizzled old raccoon theprovostkeptasafamiliar.

“Behold,” Devinintoned, “Provost FerranMontserrat: the onlyindependent mind in thisstoneheap.Thatmandoesn’tanswer to anybody but ourgod and his avatar. The restof us are bound, antlike, tohiswill.”

Nicodemus watched theprovost float to the table’shead. With surprising

dexterity, the ancient arch-wizard landed his chair andpicked up a fork. The deansandtheirguestssatandbeganeating.

“Everything is so damncomplicated,” Nicodemusgrumbled before swearingsoftly,“bloodofLos.”

“Piss and blood in asilverbowl!”Devinhissed.“Iforgot!”

Nicodemus jumpedslightly in his seat. “Forgot

what?”Devin’s pale face

flushed red as she visiblystruggledtocontainasalvoofobscenity. “Two days agoMagistra Highsmith caughtmenappingonduty.Theoldhussyofahistorianismakingmegiveashort lectureaboutLostotherestofthegirlsonjanitorial. It’s her idea of apenance. The old shrewknows cacographers neverstudy theology. I was

supposed to look it up butdidn’t.”

Nicodemus raised hiseyebrows. “When do youlecture?”

“Inhalfanhour,”Devinsaid with a glare that daredhimtochideher.Fortunately,he knew enough to keep hismouth shut.When she spokeagain, it was in a calmervoice. “Nico, tell meeverything you know aboutLos.”

“I’m a cacographer too,you know. I never tooktheologyeither.”

“But you memorizeeverythingShannon says andfawn—”

“Allright,allright.Backontheancientcontinenttherewas a golden age when theSolarEmpire…and that’snotthe Neosolar Empire, whichformed on this continent.Anyway, the original SolarEmpireexisted inpeacewith

the gods. But someonecommitted a grave sin thatenabledLos, thenapowerfulearthgod,tobecomethefirstdemon.”

“Butwhatsin—”Nicodemus shrugged.

“Every religion has adifferentanswer.Probablynoone’s right; probably thatknowledgewaslostwhenourancestors crossed the ocean.As wizards we hold to nobeliefandsoarenotboundto

a religion or kingdom. AllyouneedtoknowisthatLostook a third of the deities toMountCalaxandturnedtheminto demons. He made anarmy of all the demons andcalled it the Pandemonium.That’swherethewordcomesfrom: Pan, all, demonium,demons.Sowhenwesay theclass was pandemoniumwe’reusinghyperboleto—”

“Blasted pisser—”Devin cut herself short and

calmeddown.“Nico,Iget it.Could you just give me thehistory without yourlinguisticramblings?”

Nicodemus grumbledabout history and linguisticramblings being the samething before continuing. “Soafter Los formed thePandemonium, there was awar between deities anddemons called theApocalypse.When it becameclear the demonswouldwin,

the human deities built hugeExodus ships to cross theocean. Somehow—no one’ssurehow—agroupofhumanheroes turnedLos into stone.Thisboughttheshipsenoughtime to get out to sea. Thedemons, being bound to theancient continent, couldn’tfollow.Thenapowerfulwindcalled the Maelstromscattered the Exodus ships.That’s why each of thecurrentlandfallkingdomshas

peopleofdifferentshapesandcolorings.”

Devin narrowed hereyes. “In ancient kingdomseveryonelookedthesame?”

“More or less.Certainlysomeone like me with blackhairandoliveskinwouldnothave come from the samekingdom as someone withyourredhairandfreckles.”

“There’s no need to besnotty, Nico. Cacographersaren’ttaughtthisstuff.AndI

don’t hang on Magister’severy miniature lecture likeyoudo.Whenwizardsgossip,I’lllisten.ButI’dratherchewgravel that listen to most oftheir academic babble.” Shesniffed. “Just another reasonwhy it’d be better if I wereilliterate.”

“I’msorry,Dev,Ididn’tmean…But don’t be sounhappy. Even if theypermanently censored you,it’s not as if you would be

free. You’ve told meyourself, magical illiteratesareboundtothelandortheirtrade. They have to work inthe fields for lords or baronsorwhatnot.”

She only shrugged andturned back to her stew.“Couldn’tbeworse than it ishere.”

Nicodemus leanedforward.“Dev,you’dhavenospells to wash your face orclean your teeth. No

constructs toempty thenightpot. And you’d be short-lived.”

Suddenly her browneyes burned with theircharacteristicfire.“Wellf—”Again she visibly suppressedan obscenity. “I don’t care afig for that!Not allofusareas strong as you, Nico. I’llbarelyseeacentury.AndI’mnearly fifty already. I mightnotlookit,butIam.IfIwereilliterate, at least I wouldn’t

outlivemyfamily.”Nicodemus started to

protest but then stopped.“You’dwanttogetmarried?”

“Oh, a bloody donkey’sass-crack on that!” shesnapped. “I damned welldon’t want to get married.”She began stirring her stewwithtremblinghands.

Nicodemus could notthinkofwhattosay,sohesatinsilenceandwaiteduntilsheappearedcalmer.

“Dev,” he said at last.“Lastnight I askedyouwhatSmallwood meant when hecalledmeShannon’snewpetcacographer.”

“Forget it. It’s nothingimportant.” She scowled.“Though it proves my pointaboutbeingilliterate.”

Nicodemus touched herelbow.“Tellme?Please?”

Devin looked at him.“It’sallhearsay.”

Henodded.

After laying her spoondown, she scooted aconspiratorialhalf-inchcloseron the bench. “Well, yearsagoMagisterwasarisingstarin Astrophell, both inresearchandpolitics.Hewasalso an oddity because hisfather came from Dral, buthis mother from Trillinon.That’s why his names soundsodifferent—AgwuShannon.Anyway, his faction, TheSons of Ejindu, wanted the

wizardstotakeamoreactiverole in keeping any roguespellwrights from joining theSpirish Civil War. Shannonwas their Long Councilspeaker. And…” Devinloweredhervoice.“And…hegot the provost’s grandniecepregnant!”

Nicodemus lookeddubious. “But spellwrightscan’t conceive. We’re allsterile.”

Devin smiled at him.

“Nico, sometimes I forgethow young you are. That’swhat we tell the acolytes.Togetherwe’reallbarren.Notwo spellwrights have everconceived. But every sooften, a spellwright and anilliterateproduceachild.”

“Shannon got anilliteratepregnant!”

“Shhhh!” She swattedhis shoulder. “Not so loud.Nowyouseewhyweauthorsswearofffamilies.Wewould

outlive them and have towatchthemdie.That’swhyitwas a huge scandal whenShannon got the provost’sgrandniecewithchild.”

Nicodemus could onlyshakehishead.

She continued, “SoShannon tried to hide thebaby, but his opponentsdiscovered the boy andstarted the scandal. Theprovost of Astrophell wasfurious and made Shannon

MasteroftheDrumTowerinStarhaven.Toget ridofhim,yousee.”

“Andthen?”“No one knows exactly.

Some say Magister didsomething desperatewith hisresearch, hoping abreakthroughwouldearnhimforgiveness. Some say he’sblind because his researchspellburnedouthismundanevision. But whateverhappenedMagister ended up

here at Starhaven. Hecouldn’t visit Astrophell fortwenty years or so. By thenhiswifehaddiedandhissonwasmarried.Magistertriedtopatch things up, butapparentlyhis son hated himfor abandoning the familyand denounced Magister inpublic.”

Nicodemus blew out alongbreath.

“SoMagistercamebackhereandbecameachampion

of cacographers.” Her wideeyesdartedupforamoment.“Hechoosesonecacographicboy from every generationand tries to help him earn ahood. Before you it wasTomasRylan.TomlivedwithJohnandme.Magisterhelpedhim become a lesser wizardinStarfallJanitorial.”

Nicodemus felt his faceburn. Had Shannon chosenhim as an apprentice onlybecausehewantedanewpet

cripple?Devin stirred the dregs

of her stew. “From themoment you came to theDrum Tower, you wereMagister’s favorite. Weweren’t surprised when hemovedyou into the top floorwith John and me yearsbeforeyouhadearnedit.”

“Oh”wasallNicodemuscouldbringhimselftosay.

Devin looked at him.“So that’s what Smallwood

meant.”Nicodemus’s mind

reeled. Shannon had takenhimasanapprenticeonlyoutof pity?He felt sick. “Thankyou,Dev,”hesaidquietly.

“Nico, you shouldn’thold it against Magister; heonlywantstohelp.”

Hestood.“Ishouldgo.”Devin caught his hand

and squeezed. “Nico,everyone loves you in theDrum Tower. John and I…

Don’tfeelbad.”“I have to meet the old

man in thecompluvium.”Hesqueezed her hand in return.“Idon’twanttobelate.”

“Okay.”He picked up his bowl

and cup. “See you tonight,”hesaidandwalkedaway.

CHAPTEREighteenSix of Starhaven’s twentyeasterntowersheldtheSataalLanding more than fourhundred feet above ground.Nicodemus tried not to thinkabouttheheightashewalked

eastwardalong the thinstoneconcourse.Everyfiftyfeetorso, he climbed a few broadstepstothenextplaza.

The surrounding towersand nearby mountainsblocked direct sunlight fromthe landing for all but a fewhours during the day. TheChthonicshadoncecultivateda shade garden here.Antiquarians wrote of tallmountain laurels and soilbeds bursting with angel

wings, fetterbush, andbarronwort.

Now the soil bedsnurturedonlyweedsand ivy.Moss bristled between thewall stones. Feral catsskulked about the placelooking for fresh water.Nicodemus couldn’t seeanyone following him butguessed a subtextualizedsentinelwasnear.

As he ventured farthereast, the towers crowded

closer.Ateachnewlevel,theplaza was smaller, thestairwaynarrower.

Finally the landingterminated in a small,mossycloister.Nicodemusfoundhisway blocked by the thirty-footwallthatranbetweentheabandoned Itan and KarkinTowers.Arowofmetalrungsclimbed halfway up the walltoanarrowwalkway.Voicesechoedfromabove.

Nicodemus scaled the

ladder and found its rungsspacedtoocloselyforhumancomfort.TheChthonicsmusthave had small hands, hedecided. Or maybe smallclaws? Or perhaps they hadhad no claws or hands at allbut had gripped the rungswiththeirteeth.

On top of the walkwaystood a smiling MagisterShannon with Azure on hisshoulder. The old man wascheerfully lecturing four

Northern sentinels: “…obvious reasons thecompluvium’s constructs arewritten aggressively. So wemustn’t—ah, Nicodemus,you’rehereatlast.”

Thesentinels,threemen,onewoman,allwereroughlysixty years in age andwearinggoldorsilverbuttonson their sleeves. Theyexamined Nicodemus withnarrowed eyes. Shannonlaughingly introduced them

ashispersonalguards.Nicodemus bowed. He

understood their confusedlooks. They had beensent toinvestigateShannonandweretakenabackbytheoldman’senthusiasm. Nicodemuscouldn’tblamethem.

Shannon grabbedNicodemus’s arm and pulledhim through the crowd. Theold wizard’s grip felt like avise.

The walkway on which

theywerestandingran intoacrevice where the KarkinTower met the wall. Here anarrow staircase climbed tothewall’s top.A seven-foot-tall gargoyle stood guard onthebottommoststep.

Its muscled body wouldhavebeenhumanoid,saveforthe two extra arms growingunder the expectedpair.Andthestonewingsbulgingfromits back would haveresembled birdwings but for

the two additional carpaljoints that allowed the limbsto fold into tight, fiddleheadspirals. Itsgianthawk’sheadglared at the spellwrightswithstonyeyes.

Shannon was againlecturing the sentinels.“Those of you who’ve dealtwith a war-weight gargoylewill remember that they aredangerous, valuable, andfractious. So use great carewhen presenting these

passwords.” The old manproduced a scroll from hissleeve and began pulling offNuminousparagraphs.

Nicodemus watched asShannon handed a set ofpasswords to each sentinel.The Northerners, however,were studying the massivegargoyle and glancing at oneanother.

Suddenly Nicodemusrealized that Shannon wasallowing the golden

paragraphs to fold intopleated and stacked sheets:this conformation stabilizedmuch of its language butstrained those sentences thatfolded the text. Such tensioncouldcauserearrangementorfragmentation.

Sure enough, whenShannonhandedacopyofthepasswords to the femalesentinel, two bendingsentencessnapped.

Nicodemus spoke up,

“Magister,hertexthas—”“Don’t worry, lad. I’ll

take you through myself.Excuseme, spellwrights.Myapprentice has not yetmasteredNuminous.”

He grabbed Nicodemusagainanddraggedhimtothemassive gargoyle.Nicodemus’s stomachknotted until the old manreleasedhisarmandheldouttwopasswordtexts.

The gargoyle extended

its four arms. Each pair ofhands took a paragraph andbegantofoldthem.Ifwrittencorrectly, the spells wouldfoldintoapre-setshape.

When the aquilinegargoyle had creased eachparagraph into a smallstarlike shape, it chirped andmovedaside.

Shannon put a hand onNicodemus’sbackandguidedhim onto the stairwaybetween the Karkin Tower

andthewall.Behind them, two

sentinels held out theirpasswords to the gargoyle’smanyarms.

“Bereadyforanything,”Shannonmuttered.

Confused, Nicodemusturned back just as the war-weight gargoyle beganshrieking. Two bulky stonearms struck the wall withpercussive force. A wingunfurledtoblockthepassage.

A chorus of shockedsentinelvoicescamefromtheotherside.

“Magisters,” Shannonscolded, “you let thepasswords fragment! Howcouldyoubesocarelesswitha pleated sheet? Check theothertwoparagraphs.”

An apologetic femalevoice replied that they toohaddeconstructed.

“Wonderful,” Shannonbarked. “I can’t cast

Numinous past this war-weight gargoyle withoutexcitingittoviolence.”

A dour male voicereplied, “Magister, we’veorders not to lose sight ofyou.”

Shannon laughed. “Afinejobyou’vemadeof that.Now Nicodemus and I lackthe protection we werepromised. Burning heaven!I’ve a mind to complain toAmadiofthis.”

The sentinels weresilent.

Shannoninstructedthemto hurry down to the groundlevel and then hike back upthe Itan Tower. From theretheymight reach the SpindleBridge. He and Nicodemuswould wait on the bridge.“MakeitbackinanhourandAmadi needn’t know,” hesaid and then turned to hikeupthestepstowardthetopofthewall.

The sentinels set off inthe opposite direction.Nicodemus hurried after theoldman.

“Now we may speakfreely,” Shannon said withsatisfaction. “Even thesubtextualized sentinelfollowing you can’t get pastthatbrute.”

Nicodemus frowned.“Magister, the passwordsweremisspelled?”

“Not in the least,”

Shannon said, turning backlong enough to wink a blindeye. “They couldn’t havebeenspelledmorecorrectly.”

IN THE ITAN Tower, Deirdrelaughed at what she sawthroughthewindowbars.

ShewasstandingnexttoKyran in an abandonedChthonic hallway—a darkplace with slate floors,cracked walls of deep-blueplaster,ablackceilingshaped

like roots or rocks.Everything was coated withcenturiesofdust.

Bright autumn sunlightslanted in through the barredwindows, illuminatingcloudsoflanguiddustmotes.Ahandmovingthroughthechillyairspun a few bright specks;Kyran’sbodypulledwithitamaelstrom of flying, sunlitdirt.

“Shannon’s used thehawk-headed construct to

fool the Northern wizards,”Deirdresaid.“Thesimpletonsarehurryingdowntowardtheground. Ky, go and followthem. Iwant toknow if theyreporthistrick.”

“Ishouldn’tleaveyou.”Sheturnedtolookather

protector. Though stoopedand leaning on his thickwalking staff, he still had tohold his head at an awkwardangle to avoid the lowceiling. It made him seem

likeagiant.“Are we having this

argument again?” she asked,smiling. “You know I neverlose.”

“Because you neverargueaboutwhatmatters.”

“Ky,thisisnotthetime.I need you to watch thosewizards.”

“There’s not anothersoulforahalfmile.Eventheblack-robes don’t comehere.”

Hersmilewilted.His dark eyes glared at

her. Then, with a barelyaudible grunt, he nodded.One long stride brought himto the barred window. Thesunlight turned his hair togleaming gold, his robes tosolar white. He watched thefour sentinels hurrying downthe stone platform, thenturnedandstrodeawaydownthe hall, his walking staffclicking against the stone

floor.Deirdre looked out the

window again. Shannon andNicodemus were hiking upthe steep stairway betweenthe wall and the tower. Shewouldneedtoclimbupafewmore floors to keep them inview. She set off in theopposite direction fromKyran.

For once, Deirdre wasnot irritated by her shortstature. She did not need to

stoop when stepping throughthe Chthonic doorways, nordidher small feet slipon theshortsteps.

A cloudof pigeons shotpast a nearby window.Deirdre found herselfthinkingaboutShannon.WasNicodemus’s trust in the oldwizardwellplaced?Daresheapproachhim?

Because she waspreoccupied with thesequestions, it wasn’t until she

had completed a circuitaround the tower, and soclimbedtothenextlevel,thatshenoticedthefootsteps.

Shestoppednearthetopofthestaircase.Thefootstepsceased as well. “Ky,” shecalled, “you’re to follow thesentinels, not follow mearoundlikeamotherhen.”

At first silence greetedher words. But then thefootstepsreturnedatasprint.

Deirdre’s heart began to

pound. The wizards had notallowed her to wear a blade.Instinctively, her eyessearched about for a weaponandfellonthehorizontalbarsthe Chthonics had built intotheir windows. She rushedover and grabbed two rodsthathadbeendrilled into thewindowframe.

No living man couldhave pulled them free. ButDeirdre needed only toputone foot on the wall and

heave. The bars explodedfrom the frame with smallcloudsofpulverizedstone.

The footstepswere loudand echoing now. Shecrouched and held the twosteel bars up in Spirishfightingfashion.

The figure that camerunningupthestaircaseworea tatteredwhite cloak—morea hastily sewn sheet than aproper garment. Avoluminoushoodcoveredhis

headandface.As Deirdre raised her

crude weapons, the creatureran through a squaresunbeam. An objectextending from his handbecameablazingrectangleofreflectedlight.

The glare momentarilydazzledhereyes,soitwasn’tuntil the creature was a fewstepsawaythatsheidentifiedthe steel object as an ancientLornishgreatsword.

“LISTEN CAREFULLY,”Shannon said, stepping ontothe wall at the end of theSataal Landing. “We don’thavemuchtime.”

Azurewas ridingon thewizard’s shoulder and usinghereyestoseeforhim.

“Ofcourse,Magis—”A few inches ahead, the

wall plummeted roughlyseventy feet to the shadedimpluvium: a deep rainwater

reservoir that provided waterto Starhaven’s inhabitedquarters through a series ofaqueducts. Beneath thesurface lay massive valvesand floodgates.Around themmoved what Nicodemus firsttook to be bulbous gray fish,butthenherealizedtheywerethe water gargoyles thatoperatedthevalves.

Beyond the impluviumstretched a mile-wide half-bowl of roofs, gables, and

gutters that funneled raindown to the reservoir. Thismeta-structure, composed ofthe southeast quarter’s manydifferent contiguousbuildings, was known as thecompluvium;andeverywhereon it—squatting, stooping,orcrawling—were the guttergargoyles. The constructswere busy mucking leavesout of the aqueducts, scaringoff birds, or mending leakyroofs.

“Amazing,” Nicodemushalf-whispered.

“All of these gargoylesarecontrolledbya faction towhich I once belonged,”Shannon explained, hurryingtoward a spiral staircase onthe wall’s opposite end. “Ifyou or the Drum Tower isever endangered, you mustbring all the malecacographershere.Thatbrutedown by the Sataal Landingwill obey your commands.

You’retobringtheboyshereto the compluvium and hidethem; it’s a large place andthe gargoyles know manysecretnooks.”

Nicodemus swallowed.“Endangered by what? Themurderer?Thesentinels?”

“I’ll answer in amoment,” Shannon huffed.“First let’s be clear aboutwhat you are to do. Come.”They reached the spiralstaircase and hurried down

the narrow steps. Azure hadto bob her head to keep aclearviewofwheretheyweregoing.

At the bottom of thestairs stood a gated tunnelleading into a buildingNicodemusdidn’trecognize.

Using a few Numinouspasswords, Shannon openedthe gate and pulled it wide.“If danger finds you even inthe compluvium, lead theboys through here.” Azure

whistled nervously as theystepped into the tunnel.“Watchyourhead.”

The tunnel proved to beboth dark and long. Buttogether master andapprentice trudged throughankle-deep water to anothergate.Shannonsprangthelockand led Nicodemus onto ashortwalkway that faced thesheer rock face of thePinnacleMountains.

They had come onto

Starhaven’seasternmostwall.Shannon hurried along

the walkway to the SpindleBridge’s landing. Standingbesidethebridgewasanotherof the four-armed, hawk-headedgargoyles.

Shannon stopped beforethegargoyleandturnedtohisapprentice.“Youare tobringtheboystothisconstruct.Heguardsasystemofconstructsand spellswe call the Fool’sLadder.It’s theonlywayout

of Starhaven beside the frontgate. If need be, you canescape into the forest andthen lead the boys down toGray’s Crossing.” Hewithdrew a pouch from hisrobes and tossed it toNicodemus.

When the younger mancaught the bag, it clinked.“Magister!” he exclaimedwhile peering inside.“There’senoughgoldheretobuythewholetownofGray’s

Crossing.”“Hopefully there’s

enough to buy escape orprotection.”

“Butshouldn’tIjustfindyouifthere’sdanger?”

“There might not betime to find me.” He closedhis blind eyes and rubbedthem. “Besides, if you trulyare in danger, it will bebecauseIamdead.”

THE BLADE FLASHING toward

Deirdre’s throat was spottedwithrust.

She leaped backward,gracefully finding newfooting on the narrow steps.Her opponent’s crude whitehood still covered his face.She wondered how thecreature saw. She alsowonderedwhy he had riskedan attack inside Starhaven,where he could not usemagic.

Thethingadvancedwith

a backhand stroke. She metthebladewith a parryof herright bar. The force of thecreature’s blow nearlyknocked thebar from herhand. The thing possessedstrengththatrivaledherown.She threw a quick overhandslashwithherleftbar.

The creature brought uphisleftarmintimetosavehishead.

The steel bar smashedinto the thing’s forearmwith

enough force to crack aboulder. But there was nocrunchofbone.Therodsanktwo inches into the arm andstuck.

The creature twistedaway. In her shock, Deirdrelosthergriponthebaranditslid from her fingers. Themonster lunged at her withanotherthrust.

Deirdredancedawaybutcaught her heel and toppledbackwardontothestairs.The

creature raised the swordoverhead; her bar was stillstuckinhisforearm.

Clay! she realized. Thedamned thing was made outofclay!

The greatsword flewdownward. Deirdre rolledright and heard the weaponcrash against the step besideher.Whenshelookedup,theblade was again flashingtowardher.

With both hands, she

threw up her remaining bar.Steel met steel with adeafening clang. She kickeddown,slammingherheelintothe thing’s knee.Any blood-and-bone joint would havesnapped, but she felt thecreature’sfleshgive.

Thethingcollapsedwitha whistling shriek, but shecould tell that the kick hadnotdonelastingdamage.

Somehow the creaturehadknownshehadnomagic

orblade.Beingmadeofclay,the monster faced no dangerfrombluntweaponsnomatterhow powerfully wielded.Only if she could find theauthor’s true body could shekillthecreature.

Wasting no timerenewing her attack, Deirdrestruggled to her feet and ranupthestairs.

“DEAD?” NICODEMUS SAID.“Magister,whywouldyoube

dead?”“Follow me onto the

Spindle Bridge,” Shannonsaid wearily. They walkedside by side. The clicking oftheirbootheelsonthebridgeechoedloudly.

Far below themstretched the alpine forest;ahead, the sheer mountainface. As they went, Shannonrelated everything he knewaboutNoraFinn’smurder,hisencounter with the inhuman

murderer, Amadi’ssuspicions, the counter-prophecy, and Eric’s andAdan’sdeaths.

“Sweet heaven!”Nicodemus exclaimed,stopping.“LittleEricEversonwiththelongbrownhair,he’sdead?Adantoo?”

He hadn’t known eitherboywell,buttheirdeathsstillcameasashock.

“Magister! During mynap, I dreamt of a monster

attacking a neophytein theglen.” He described the palemonster and then the cavernfilledwiththestrangeturtles.

Shannon made noimmediate reply. A gust ofcold wind set Nicodemus’srobes flapping and his hairfluttering.Theywerehalfwayacrossthebridge.

At last Shannon spoke:“This new nightmare—whenyou were both yourself andthe figure on the table—also

sounds to be a form ofquaternary thought. What doyouknowabout the levelsofcognition?”

“Only that humans havetertiary cognition,”Nicodemus answered. “Andthat constructs can havesecondary or primarycognition, which are liketertiary but with restrictionson what they can think orwantorremember.”

“And quaternary?”

Shannonasked.Nicodemus hesitated.

“Are thoughts that areunthinkable without certaintextscastaboutone’smind.”

“Quite right, but doyouknowwhatthatmeans?”

“Haven’t the faintest,”Nicodemus admitted with alaugh. “An unthinkablethought sounds like a silentnoise or illuminatingdarkness.”

Shannon smiled. “But

you’ve already thoughtunthinkablethoughts.Inyournightmares, you thought asboth yourself and as othercreatures. That phenomenon,what we call sharedconsciousness,isthesimplestformofquaternarycognition.At its most basic level,quaternarycognitioninvolvesthinking with at least twominds—oneinsideyourhead,another made of magicaltext.”

“So the murderer cast aspell on my sleeping mindthatallowedmetothinkwiththatspell?”

“Yes,butperhapsitwasnotthemurdererwhocastit,”Shannon replied slowly.“Given what the villain toldme,it’slikelyhemanipulatedthedreamsofAdanandEricto lure them out ofStarhaven’s walls. But yournightmares seem to warnratherthanlure.Thevisionof

the glen must have been avisionofpoorEric’sfate.Thefiend wouldn’t want you toknow how and where he’sattackingcacographers.”

“But thenwhere are thedreamscomingfrom?”

“We’ve no way ofknowing,” Shannon said,scratchinghisbeard.“Butwemightaskhowthenightmaresare related. You dreamed ofthedragonattackingTrillinonand the murderer attacking

Eric while both events werehappening. Whoever orwhateverissendingyouthesedreams wants you to knowabout these events. Thedream-sendermustwantustofind a connection betweenthem.Perhapsthemurdererisconnectedtothedragon.”

“Andwhatof the turtlesunderground?”

“That one is thestrangest of all. Perhapsfuture dreams will reveal

more.”Another gust ofwindset the old man’s whitedreadlocksswaying.

“But why send thesedreams to me?” Nicodemusasked, his voice growingstrained. “And Eric andAdan, what do theirdeaths…”

Shannon placed a handon his shoulder. “It ishorrifying,Iknow,butwe’veno time to panic or grieve.Wehavetothinklogically.”

Theoldmanblewout abreath, his cheeks bulging.“We know the murdererseeks you so that you mightreplenish some artifact, anemerald. I’m unsurewhat hemeantby‘replenish,’butI’mpositivethathewillattacktheDrum Tower boys in anattempttofindyou.Wemustprotect you and the othercacographers. That’s whywe’rehere.”

“Magister, the druid

spoke of a demon-worshiperbeing nearby. Perhaps weshouldconsulther.”

“Not until we knowmore about her and themurderer.” The wizardgrimaced. “And we knowalmostnothingforfact.”

Nicodemus blinked.“Weknowthemurdererstolemyabilitytospell.”

“That is the druid’sexplanation.”

Astrangeheat stirred in

Nicodemus’s chest. “Butyousaid thecreatureneedsme toreplenish some artifact. Yousaid the monster claimed hismasterhasbeenusing agemon me when I was sleeping.That must be why I’m acacographer.”

Nicodemus’s handsbegantotremble.Thathadtobe it! Hewas being crippledbymagic;therefore,hemightyetbemadewholebymagic.

“Magister! If I could

escapethiscreature,ormayberecover this gem, I wouldlosemycacography!MaybeItrulyamtheHalcyon.”

“Nicodemus, I do notlike to hear you talk likethis.”

“You think I’m the oneofthecounter-prophecy?TheStormPetrel?”

The wizard shook hishead. “Given what hashappened, you likely areconnected to the prophecy in

someway, but it is too earlytosayhowyou—”

“But in Magistra Finn’slibrary, the monster said theemerald gave him power inLanguage Prime. Magister,whatisLanguagePrime?”

A golden Numinous arcleaped between Azure andShannon. The parrot raisedher head to examineNicodemus.

“My boy, listencarefully. Language Prime is

a very dangerous, veryblasphemous idea. Youmustnever mention it in publichearing.”

“But why?” Nicodemusasked.Hehadtomaketheoldman see that he wasn’tsupposedtobecrippled.

“Only grand wizardsmayknowofit.”

“ButMagister,giventhesituation—”

The old man held up ahand. “You don’t need to

convinceme.But promise tokeepwhat I am about to tellyouinthestrictestsecrecy.”

Nicodemus swore onevery demigod in theCelestialCanon.

With a solemn nod, thewizard began: “Perhapsyou’ve learned that whentime began, there was onlylifeless dust. Into this barrenworld the Creator spoke thefirstwords.Thesewordswerein Language Prime, the first

magical language, thelanguagefromwhichallotherlanguagescome.”

Another gust of coldwind set Shannon’s silverylocks swaying again. “Thefirstwordscreatedthislivingworld and every creatureupon it. Modern scholarsbelieve that after that pointLanguage Prime ceased toexist. But long ago,immediatelyaftertheExodus,whenthedeitiesawokeonthe

new continent, they had nomemory and little sense.Many claimed to know theCreator’s own language.Some claimed to speakdirectly to the Creator. Intheir efforts to masterLanguage Prime and rule allof humanity, the awokendeities began the BloodCrusades.Theresultingchaosand war nearly destroyedhumanity. That is why thepursuitofLanguagePrime is

deemedblasphemy.”Shannon paused and

tookinalongbreath.“Thatiswhy it is so easy formodernscholars to believe thatLanguage Prime no longerexists. If they thoughtotherwise, it would sparkreligious wars that woulddestroy what peace thelandfall kingdoms haveknown.”

Nicodemus noddedeagerly. “But you think

differently, Magister? Youbelieve Language Primeexists?”

“Idon’tbelieveitexists;Iknowitdoes.”

“Buthow?”Shannon pinched the

bridge of his nose. “BecausethelastsightIeversaw—theimage that burned allmundane vision from myeyes—was of two sentenceswritteninLanguagePrime.”

DEIRDRE MADE IT halfwayaround the tower beforesomething hit her frombehind.

Painexplodedacrossherleft shoulder and sent hersprawling onto the dustyfloor. Next to her clatteredthe steel bar she had struckinto the creature’s forearm.The thing must have thrownit.

She rolled over andregainedher feet just in time

to meet the creature’soverhead slash with herremainingbar.Shecounteredwithaquickthrust.

The creature, stillwrapped in white, leapedback. His greatsword flickedout in a two-handed slash.Deirdre batted down theblade with the bar andstepped in to slamher elbowintothething’sface.

Something that felt likea nose flattened under her

blow.The thing cried out and

fell. A dust cloud explodedfromunderhisbackashehitthefloor.

Deirdre dove for thething’ssword.

Butthemonsterwasstilltoo quick; he squirmed backand away, holding theweapon above her shortreach.With a hiss, the thingslashedwiththeswordacrossherside.

As the blade raspedagainst her rib bones, theworld exploded intoblackness. Deirdre leapedaway onto her back. Thecreaturetriedtostand,butshekicked her boot toe into hisneck. With a strangled cry,the thing toppled backward.Deirdreregainedherfeetandslammedthebardownonthecreature’sshin.

Shefled.

NICODEMUS BLINKED. “Youwere blinded by LanguagePrime?”

Thegrandwizardrubbedhis eyes wearily. “The storystarts in Astrophell. I was aplayerinthegameoffactionsthen and a little arrogant. Ifellinlovewiththemagicallyilliterate grandniece ofAstrophell’s provost.When Igot her with child, wemarriedinsecret.”

Nicodemus nodded

mutely.The old man continued.

“My enemies discovered mypregnantwifeandusedhertocreate scandal. It became arallying point for themalcontent factions—mostlythosethatwantedtheOrdertoexertmoreinfluenceoverthekingdoms.Hopingtohidethescandal, the provostannounced his plan to sendmy wife and child away todifferentclandestinelocations

where neither I nor themalcontents could find them.I was terrified. I had to actbefore my wife gave birth,before the Provost couldseparate them. And so…Isoughtdivineintervention.”

“You found our god?YouspoketoHakeem?”

Shannonnodded.“But no one…you…”

Nicodemus stammered.“How?”

A slight smile stole

across thewizard’s lips. “It’ssomethingofalegendamongthose that seek to break intoliterary strongholds. Myresearch into textualintelligence gave me anadvantage. I wrote aquaternary cognition spellthat allowed me to think asthestronghold.”

“Asthestronghold?”The old man tapped his

forehead. “Impossible, Iknow, but remember

quaternary cognition allowsonetothinktheunthinkable.Icouldn’t explain it to youbetter without casting thespell on you. But regardless,the important part was thatarmedwith this text, I snuckinto the stronghold andfoughtitsdefensivelanguage.For half a mile, I cut andslashed and edited to reachourgod’stemple.”

Shannon’s smile grew.“Hakeem was reading at a

deskwhenIreachedhim.Hemanifests himself as a thin,tawny-skinned man withsilverhairandalongbeard.Itwas themostmundane sceneimaginable, and there Iwasstumbling into his temple,bristling with attack spellsandsoakedinmyownblood.Without even looking up,Hakeem raises a hand andsays, ‘A moment, my son,I’m near the end of achapter.’”

Nicodemus’s eyeswidened.“Andthen?”

“Then he finished thechapter, of course.” Shannonlaughed.“AndIthrewmyselfat his feet and begged formercy.I toldhimIwoulddoanything for my family—I’dundertake any task, performany labor; I’ddie for them…andHakeemdid indeedhaveataskforme.”

The wizard’s smile fellintoagrimline.“Amalicious

godspell from one ofHakeem’s enemies hadpenetrated his defenses andburrowed into his ark, thephysical seat of his soul.Allattempts to disspell thistraplike curse had failed. So,becausethetrapcouldnotbedisarmed, it had to besprung.”

“Hakeemmadeyoutakeonthecurse?”

“Made me? I embracedit. Itwaswritten todestroya

god, not aman.Therewas achanceitwoulddonothingatall tome; therewasachanceit would kill me outright. Ididn’t care.Withoutmywifeorson,Icouldn’tlive.”

“And the curse waswritten in Language Prime?Is that how you know itexists?”

The old wizardgrimaced. “The divine curseimbued knowledge into itsvictim’s mind and then tried

tousethatknowledgetoharmthe victim. Hakeem told meplainly that if I survived, hewould use his godspell toremove all my memories ofthetext.”

Shannon narrowed hiswhite eyes. “I rememberwalking into a small, darkroom. I remember Hakeem’sark—a tall crystal obeliskcovered with moving runes.Then the world became ablur; I was moving at a

tremendous speed but notmovingatall.Twosentencesappeared. Each one twistedaround the other, like twosnakes mating. The runesexploded and pain lancedthrough my eyes. Then,nothing.Noimage,novision,only…blindness.”

Nicodemus held hisbreath.

Shannonsighed.“Iwokein a caravan wagon headedfor Besh-Lo. Hakeem had

caused every Astrophellwizardtobecometerrifiedbythe idea of harmingmywifeand son. He even compelledthe merchants employed bythe Order to give my wife acomfortable position in oneof their trading houses.However, perhaps threatenedby my infiltration of histemple, he did not extendsuchprotectiontome.Hehadallowed the provost to seizemy research texts and exile

metoStarhaven.”Nicodemus paused for

what he hoped was asympathetic moment beforepushing on. “But the divinecurse,Magister, it taughtyouLanguagePrime?”

“It did, and Hakeemerasedallmymemoriesofit,except for the image of thetwo sentences. Until now,I’ve never told a single soul,living or textual, about thatmemory. I was always too

afraidofwhatHakeemmighthavetodotoremoveit.”

Nicodemusfelthisheartbegin to kick. “So it’s truethen:LanguagePrimeisreal.Then there might be someconnection between me andit.Themonstermustbeaftermebecauseofthat.Magister,don’t you see? I’m notsupposed to be acacographer.”

Shannonheldupahand.“Nicodemus, you’re jumping

to conclusions. The creaturesaid he needed you toreplenish an emerald.He didnotconnectyou toLanguagePrime. You must understandthat no human couldcomprehend LanguagePrime.”

“But how do you knowthat?”

“Because,” Shannonsaid, “Language Prime hasonlyfourrunes.”

AGUSTOFwindsweptacrossthe bridge. It sentNicodemus’s long black hairflying and blew Azure fromShannon’sshoulder.Thepoorbird had to flap hard just tostayoverthebridge.

“Four runes!”Nicodemus said whilestruggling to tame his hair.“Thelanguagefromwhichallother languages come hasonlyfourrunes?”

Shannonheldhisarmup

as a perch for Azure.“Strange but simplegeometric runes. Two werehexagons with a few radialstrokes; the other two werepentagons attached to similarhexagons.”

“But, Magister, thatcan’tberight.”

“It’s difficult tobelieve,” Shannon said asAzure landed on his arm.“The simplest commonlanguage possesses twenty-

two runes. And the mostcomplex, the shaman’s highlanguage, has over sixtythousandrunes.”

As the wind relented,Nicodemus tucked his hairinto his robes. “But alanguagewithonlyfourrunescould have only four single-runewords, sixteen two-runewords, sixty-four three-runewords,andsoon.”

“Exactly,”Shannonsaid,helping Azure climb back

onto his shoulder. “Primalwords must be very long.Consider that a commonlanguagepossessesahundredthousand words, Numinousthreetimesthat.So,assumingLanguage Prime has avocabulary of at least threehundred thousand, it wouldneed words up to…” Hepaused to calculate. “Ninerunes long to create all thosewords. But if it had twentyrunes, it would need words

only…” Another pause.“Onlyfiveruneslong.”

Nicodemus closed hiseyes and tried to figure outwhat calculations his teacherhadusedtodiscernthat.

Shannon let out a longsigh. “And with only fourrunes, those long wordswould be nearlyindistinguishable. Think oftryingtomemorizeathousandnine-digitnumbersconsistingof the numerals one through

four. Impossible. And thesentenceswouldbehundreds,maybe thousands of runeslong.Uttergibberish.”

Nicodemus stoppedcalculating and laughed.“Imagine trying to spell inthat language. Everyonewouldbeacacographer.”

Shannon started to saysomething and then paused.He frowned. His mouthopened,closed,openedagain.“Nicodemus…that is a

profoundidea.”“Itis?”A contrary breeze, this

one blowing fromStarhaven,flowed over the bridge. Itbrought with it the autumnalscents of moldy leaves andwoodsmoke.

Shannon was nodding.“What if cacography issimplyamismatchbetweenamind and a language? Ourlanguagesexpressmeaninginawayyourmind has trouble

reproducing consistently. Butyou do not structure themillogically.When I edit yourtexts, they work withouterror.”

Nicodemus nodded, hisearshotwithembarrassment.

“But could we composea language your mind couldeasilyprocess?Ifso,thenthereverse should be true: weshouldalsobeabletocreatealanguagesocomplexthatnoteventhemostpowerfulmind

couldspellitconsistently.”“Oh,” Nicodemus said,

realizing what Shannonmeant. “And maybe that’swhat the Creator did whenmaking Language Prime. Itcould be a language socomplex that any humanattempting to readorwrite itwouldbecacographic.”

“Morethancacographic,completelyincompetent.”

Nicodemus’s handsagain began to tremble with

excitement. “Magister, theremight be a connectionbetweenLanguagePrimeandmy cacography. Maybe thedruid is right. Maybe themonster stole part ofme andput it into the emerald.Maybe I’m not supposed tobecacographic!”

Rather than reply,Shannon began to walktoward the Spindle’s end.Before them loomed themountain’s rock faceand the

Chthonic engravings—ivyleaves to the left and thegeometricdesigntotheright.

Theoldmanspoke.“Myboy, we may be witnessingthe first days of prophecy.Thismorning’sdragonattackon Trillinon could mark thebeginning of a conflict thatwill engulf all kingdoms andthreaten human languageitself. But what frightensmejustnow is thechange Ihearinyourvoice.”

HestoppedandturnedtoNicodemus. “Do you believethatyouaretheHalcyon?”

“I—” Nicodemusstammered. “You think I’mbeing foolish to believe thatthedruidmightberightaboutprophecy?”

The old wizard shookhis head. “Not in the least.Besides the presentcircumstances linking you toprophecy, I have noted thestrange effect you have had

on some texts. Just last nightwhen you misspelled agargoyle, you elevated herfreedom of thought. Such aphenomenon is unheard of.Perhaps this happenedbecauseyouaretheHalcyon,perhaps because of anotherreason tied to prophecy. Butyou didn’t answer myquestion:DoyoubelieveyouaretheHalcyon?”

“I haven’t…I don’tknowifIamornot.Isuppose

you’reright,wecan’tjumptoconclusions. Butmy point isabout cacography. If themurderer magically stole myability to spell,perhaps Icanmagicallygetitback!”

Shannon folded hisarms. “Which matters more,fulfilling your role inprophecy or removing yourcacography?”

Nicodemus shook hishead. “If a demon-worshiperstolemyabilitytospell, they

mustbeconnected.Magister,don’t you see? Perhaps I amnotatruecacographer.”

“A true cacographer?”Shannon asked, eyebrowsrising. “Nicodemus, even ifwe erased your disabilitycompletely, it wouldn’t undowhathasalreadyhappenedtoyou.Regardingwhoyoutrulyare, regarding what trulymatters, ending yourcacography wouldn’t changeanything.”

Nicodemus could barelybelievewhat hewashearing.“It would changeeverything!”

Shannonstartedwalkingagain.“Perhapsthisisnotthetime.”

Nicodemus rushed afterthe old man. “Magister,woulditupsetyouifIlearnedtospell?”

Shannon kept walking.“Why would you ask such aquestion?”

“Yousquashanyhope Imight have of completingmyself.”

“There is no such thingas completing yourself. Youhave always been complete,andyouwon’t—”

For the first time hecould remember, Nicodemusdeliberately interrupted histeacher. “If I am alreadycomplete,ifallIwilleverbeis your pet cripple, then Idon’t know why we’re

botheringtokeepmealive!”Bothmenstopped.Suddenly Nicodemus

realized that he had nearlyshouted his last two words.Heturnedaway.

The bridge’s railingstoodbeforehim.Heputbothhandsonitandtriedtocatchhisbreath.

Farbelowthem,afalconcircled above the scatteredpines and boulders. Some ofthe trees had died and

withered into woodenskeletons.

“Pet cripple,” Shannonsaidslowly.“Isee.”

“Iknowhowyoupickaretarded boy out of everygeneration,” Nicodemusanswered.“Devinknows too.Fiery heaven, the wholeacademyknows!”

A silence grew until thebreeze picked up enough tomaketheirrobesluff.

Finally Shannon spoke

in a low, rough tone. “Exilefrom Astrophell nearlycrushedme. I lost everything—mywife,myson,mysight,my research. I couldhave letthelossrotmefromthehearttotheskin.”

Nicodemus looked backtowardhismentor.

Azure had laid her headdownnearShannon’schinsotheoldmancouldscratchherneck.

“My research became

futile,” the wizard saidsolemnly. “I had discoveredsuch wonderful things inAstrophell. But in thisacademic backwater, Icouldn’taccomplishaquarterof what I did before. InAstrophell, I had a cadre ofbrilliant apprentices workingtoadvancemystudies.HereItaughtcacographicneophyteshow to avoid hurtingthemselves.Politicsbecameaconstant reminder of my

sins.”The old wizard sniffed

inannoyance.“Iwastedyearslonging for what I had lost.Until,oneday,acacographicboy came to me in tears tothankme for all I had done.Intruth,Ihaddonelittlemorethanwhatwasrequired.ButIsaw how moved the childwas, how badly he neededkindness.Isawinhimawayto live again. His name wasAllen,aLornishboy.He’sin

Astrophell now. TheNortherners don’t have theslightest suspicion that he,now a hooded librarian, is acacographer.”

Shannon paused. “Youthink I made you myapprentice because I pityyou? Because I keep acacographer around to lordmyabilityoverhim?To feelas grand as I did whenspeaking before the LongCouncil? Well, if you think

so, Nicodemus Weal, you’reafool.”

The younger man wassilent for a long moment.“But why then did youchoose me for anapprentice?”

Shannon pointed to hismilky-white eyes. “I choseyoubecauseinthepastIhaveunderstood cacographers andthey have understood me. IchoseyoubecauseIthoughtIcould help you the most.

Besides, you are a usefulapprentice. When you castwordweave, I can completespellsinaquarteroftheusualdrafting time.” The old mangrunted. “Have we talkedaboutthisenoughforyou?”

When Nicodemus didnot answer, the old manstarted off toward themountainside. “Come then.The sentinels will catch upwithussoon.”

Theywalkedmostofthe

distance to the rock facewithout talking. Theirfootfalls echoed loudly,almost unnaturally so.Nicodemushadtotakeadeepbreath before he could breakthe silence: “I’m sorry,Magister. It’s just…with thepossibility of ending mycacography—”

“I quite understand,”Shannon said curtly as theystopped before themountain’s sheer rock face.

“Nowletusmoveon.Doyouknowwhywe’rewalking theSpindleBridge?”

“Because Magistra Finnwas murdered here?”Nicodemus stared at thecarved outlines of giant ivyleaves.

“Exactly. I wondered ifthere was a reason she diedon this bridge. I wanted tolookatthemountainsidewithmy blind eyes. I thoughtmaybeIcouldseethroughthe

stone to some hidden spell,someclue.”Hesighed.“Andmy vision pierces the stonebutseesnothingbeyond.”

He wrote a fewNuminous sentences andthrust them into themountainside. “And it seemsthat there’s nothing but rockbeforeus.”

Nicodemussteppedbackand looked at the hexagonaldesign on the bridge’s otherside. “Magister, you said the

Language Prime runes werehexagonal.Do they resemblethatChthonic pattern at all?”Hepointed.

Shannonshookhishead.“I’veexaminedthatcarvingathousand times since I firstarrived at Starhaven. But Icanfindnoresemblance.”

Nicodemus glanced athis teacher.Was theoldmanstillupset?“Magister,doyoubelieve the stories about theChthonics crossing this

bridgetoescapetheNeosolararmies? Do you think theyranaway to theHeavenTreeValley?”

“No, thehistorianswerecorrect: our ancestorsslaughtered every lastChthonic.” He turned backtoward Starhaven. “There’snothinghere.Let’sgo.”

Nicodemus waited amoment before following theold wizard. “Then what arewegoingtodo?”

“Research our enemy,”Shannonsaid. “Weknow themurderer’s made of fleshuntil we cut him; then heturnstoclay.Weneedtofinda mundane text about suchcreatures. Normallyresearching such an obscuretopic would take the rest ofthe autumn. But you and Imight modify the researchwe’re to complete thisafternoon with MagisterSmallwood.”

Nicodemus foundhimself looking back at thecarvings. “I don’tunderstand.”

“We’re researching apowerful artifact called theIndex. It allows one toquickly search throughmanytexts.NothingaspowerfulaswhattheyhaveinAstrophell,butstillimpressive.YourtaskwillbetodistractSmallwoodand the sentinels at theproject’s end so that I might

secretlypeekintotheIndex.”“But why don’t we

simply tell them what weneedtodo?”

Shannonshookhishead.“Neither Smallwood nor thesentinelswouldpermitit.Youwill see. After that we mustsleep.Thisdayhasbeen likeabaddream.”

“Bad dream,”Nicodemus echoed. Hestopped and turned to lookagain at the Chthonic

carvings.Thewizardalsostopped.

“What’sthematter?”Nicodemus opened his

mouth,tryingtoarticulatetheimages flashing through hismind.

“In my dream, the onewhen I napped,” he finallymanagedtosay,“Iwasinanunderground place and therewas a white-robed body thatheldagreengem.”Helookedat Shannon. “Magister, a

greengem!Andthemurderersaid he needed me toreplenishanemerald!”

Theoldmanfrowned.Nicodemus pointed to

the mountain’s ivy carvings.“In the dream, the floor wascoveredwith ivy.Andoutofthe darkness came strangeturtles. There were hundredsof them, hissing and dyinghorribly as their shellscracked.”

“I don’t understand.

Turtles?”“Look, that hexagonal

pattern,” Nicodemus said,pointingtotheotherChthoniccarving, “is the pattern of aturtleshell.”

DEIRDRE SPRINTED THROUGHthedarkhallway.Onher leftwere dark Chthonicdoorways; to her right, thebarredwindows.

Already she could hearfrantic footfalls. The thing

wasafterheragain.She raced around the

towerandupthestairsontheother side. Suddenly theceiling burst into a thousandflappingcreatures.

Bats! They had beennesting on the ceiling. Thefloor was soft with theirdroppings.

She ran on. The swordwound on her ribs wasshallowandmendingfast,butstill it sent agony lancing

down her side with everybreath.Herrobewaswetwithblood.

Behind her the creatureshrieked.

Redoubling her efforts,sheflewaroundthetowerandcharged up the next flight ofstairs—only to come to aslidinghalt.

Before her stood anopening to a tower bridge.The bright midday sun beatdown on the gray stones.

“No.” She couldn’t leave thetower;outsideofStarhaven’swallsthecreaturecouldwieldmagic. “No!” Frantically sheturnedaround.

Footsteps were echoingupfromthestairwell.

She ran to one of thesmall black doors that linedthe hallway’s inner wall. Itwasa thick,metalportal.Ontop sat a squat barredwindow.

Shepulled, but thedoor

would not budge. Sheheaved…and with a metallicscream the thing swung aquarterwaythroughitsarc.

SuddenlyDeirdre’sheadfelt light.“Goddess,no!”shewhispered, slipping into thedark chamber. “Not now!”Herhandsbegantotremble.

The room wasrectangular;theblackmassofanancientstonebedcrouchedbeside onewall.A chorus ofterrified rats chattered in one

corner. Deirdre yanked thedoor shut with another loudscreech.

Her handswere shakingnow. Her stomach feltdistended. “No, no,” shewhimpered, staggeringtoward the stone bed. Herheart was pounding out aslow,irregularrhythm.

Shewashavinganaura!Herfaceandneckbegan

to tingle as if a summerbreeze were blowing across

her skin.Her breath came inlong, involuntary gulps. Theworld seemed to be fillingwith beauty. She wanted tocry out with joy. Her legsfaltered and she fell onto thefloor.

A low, crackling laughsoundedbehindher.

With numb hands, shemanaged to push herselfaround.

All was blackness savefor the door’s small, barred

window. Through theopening streamed intensewhite light.Thecreaturewasstandingoutside.

Thedoorshriekedasthecreature pulled upon it. Avertical sliver of light grewalong the portal’s side. Thecreature heaved once more.Again the hinges screamed,and the sliver of light grewbrighter. He was laughingagain. Soon he would workthedoorallthewayopen.

Deirdre tried to scream,triedtostand.Butshewastoofar into her aura. Her handsshookviolentlyasanecstaticwarmth spread down herback.

“No, we can negotiate,”sheheardherselfgroan. “Wecannegotiate!”

Throughthewindowshesaw the creature pause. Hispale hands lifted his hood.She squinted, trying tomakeouthisface.

But the world explodedinto light and she fellunconscious—lost to theviolenceofherseizure.

CHAPTERNineteenNicodemus and Shannonstared at the Chthoniccarvings.

They were now certainthat Nicodemus’s secondnightmare was meant to

connect the murderer to theSpindle Bridge; however,neithermancouldguesshowthe twowere connected. Thebody wrapped in white, theemerald,theturtles,theivy—itwasalltoodisjointed.

Theirbootheelsechoingloudly on the bridge stones,they hurried back to theChthonic carvings toreexamine the rock face.Shannon fashioned severalNuminous texts to search the

mountainside for a hiddenspell or a magical door thatopenedintothemountain.

Butonceagainhefoundnothingbutsolidrock.

By this time, thesentinels had hiked back upfromgroundlevel.Allfourofthem began marching downthe Spindle, their feetclacking out a distant tattoo.“Here they come,” Shannonsaid. “We mustn’t talk ofyourdreamsor themurderer.

They’re from Amadi’s trainand will be looking forevidence of the counter-prophecy.”

Nicodemus took a deepbreath. If the sentinelsinterpreted one of hismisspells as evidence that hewas the Storm Petrel, theywould leave him bound andcensoredinsomeprison.Inacell, themurdererwouldfindhim easily; he’d be ashelplessasacagedbird.

“We will pretend to beinterested only in research,”Shannon whispered. “Followmylead.Wemustlearnmoreabout the creature made ofclay.SowhenIsignal,you’reto distract the sentinels andSmallwood long enough formetousetheIndex.”

“But,Magister,howcanI distract five wizards. AndwhatisthisIndexyou—”

Shannon cut him off,callingouttotheapproaching

sentinels. The old manlaunchedintoashowofangerand scholarly enthusiasm,scolding the sentinels fordawdling, threatening tocomplain to Amadi, andramblingabouthisresearch.

He hurried the partydown to ground level andback into Starhaven’sinhabited quarters, all thewhile griping about hisprimaryresearchspellandtheneed to hurry so as not to

keep Magister Smallwoodwaiting.

Sure enough, when theparty returned to Shannon’sstudy, Magister Smallwoodwas standing outside thedoor,amassof scrolls inhisarms. “Agwu, who are allthese people?” Smallwoodaskedinsurprise.

“Timothy, I broughtsome extra arms.” Shannonunlocked his door. “Come,Magisters, we’ve much to

carry.” Shannon shooed thesentinels into his study andbegan piling books into theirhands. One tried to protestbut was overpowered byShannon’s threat to tellAmadiof theiruncooperativeattitude.

After a few moments,everysentinelboreastackofbooks piled from elbows toeyeballs. Shannon loaded anavalanche of scrolls intoNicodemus’s arms. To keep

themanuscriptsfromtopplingover, Nicodemus had toclamphischindownuponthepile.

Meanwhile, Smallwoodwas gathering a stack ofbooks intohisownarmsandadvising the sentinels on thebestwaytoholdtheirstacks.

“Well then, we areready,” Shannon announcedwhenheheldhisownpileofscrolls. “Nicodemus, wouldyou use your young eyes to

openthedoor?”“Of course, Magister.”

Nicodemus wrote a simpleMagnus sentence along hisright forearm and used hisindex finger—his only freedigit—to flick the spellaround the door latch. Withsome shuffling, he workedthe latch and pulled. “It’sopen, Magisters. Where arewegoing?”

“To the Main Library,”Smallwood replied from

behind his stack of scrolls.“Shannon, I thought you hadtold your apprentice aboutourresearchspell.”

Led by Nicodemus, thetwo grand wizards steppedout into the hallway. Thesentinels followed closebehind.

Shannon clicked histongue in annoyance.“Timothy, it has been anunusual day. I haven’t hadtime.”

“There’s no need to bedefensive, Agwu,”Smallwood said. “I wasmerelyaskingaquestion.”

The party reached thestaircase and begannegotiatingthenarrowsteps.

“Well, Nicodemus andvisitors from the North, letmeexplain,”Smallwoodsaidwith his usual professorialenthusiasm. “Years ago,Magister Shannon and Iconceived of a research spell

to visualize the textssurroundingtheIndex,butwedidn’t receive permission toproceed until the other day,when—”

“Timothy,” Shannoninterrupted, “Nicodemusdoesn’t know what thatartifact is, and you mustremember to speakof itonlyinsecureenvironments.”

“Quite right,”Smallwoodsaid.“Forgivemyforgetfulness. Nicodemus,

would you cast a murmurspell so we may speakfreely?”

Traditionally,apprentices cast anycommonplace spells theirwizards required. Shannonusually excused Nicodemusfromthisduty.Smallwood,inhis typical fashion, hadforgottenthisfact.

With a deep breath,Nicodemusbeganforgingtheneeded runeswithinhis right

forearm.Thoughwritten in asimplecommonlanguage,themurmur spell called forcomplex sentence structuresandanelaborateconclusion.

When finished,Nicodemus disliked hisrendition, but there wasnothing todobutcast itwithanother flick of his indexfinger.

Rather than expandingintoasound-deadeningcloud,the glowing white misspell

fell to the ground andshattered. The sentencefragments danced upon thefloor stones like water beadsonahotskillet.Nicodemus’scheeks flushed with shame.“Myapologies,butI—”

“I believe an issue thissensitive requires a Magnuslanguage text, perhaps asubrosa spell,”Shannon said.A grateful Nicodemusglancedbackattheoldman.

The party continued

downwardasShannonwrote.The sentinels murmuredamong themselves. Thencame the wet sound ofShannon spitting out thesubrosa spell. Instantly asoundproof sphere ofinterlocking petals encasedthegroup.

Smallwood cleared histhroat. “So, Nicodemus,Magisters, as I was saying,we have many a codex inStarhavenbutonlyoneIndex.

To the naked eye, the Indexseems a mundane book ofusual size. But the spellscoursingwithinitscoversareextraordinary; they connectthe Index to every scroll,book, and tome withinStarhaven’swalls.”

Smallwood paused toshift the scrolls in his arms.“To search the Index formundanetext,alloneneeddoisthinkofasubjectandopenthebook.Simplypickup the

codexintendingtoreadaboutsynaesthesia or magicaladvantage or whatever, andthe artifact’s spells willreproduce all availableinformationonthesubject.”

Just then the partyenteredtheWomen’sAtrium,whose ceiling held mosaicdepictions of famous femalewizards.Nicodemusregardedthe dog-like guardian spellsthat flanked the MainLibrary’svaultedentrance.

The constructs’Numinous bodies stood eightfeet tall and possessed longcanine fangs, muscularshoulders, and burning eyes.Thick, curly fur covered thecreatures’fearsomeheadsbutnot their sleek bodies.Underher gatewardpaw, each spellcontrolled a large Magnusball.

Asthepartyapproached,the two constructs pulledback their lips, but Shannon

calmly began casting themthenecessarypasswords.

Smallwood continuedhis lecture unfazed.“Conversely, to conduct asearch for magical text withthe Index, you simply lay ahandonanyoftheilluminatedpages, and your mind isbrought into contactwith thebook’sspells.Justthinkingofwhatyouarelookingforwillcause the book to list allknown spells that fit your

criteria. Once you select aspell—and here is the trulyfantastic aspect—the bookinfusesknowledgeofthattextinto your mind. So you seewhytheIndexissovaluable:throughit,asearchthatmighthave taken weeks iscompletedinmoments.”

Appeased by thepasswords, each guardianstretched her paws forwardintoadogbow,signalingthatthewizardscouldpass.

As they walked in,NicodemuslookedupintothesplendoroftheMainLibrary;he had seen it only a fewtimes before. Beside him, asentinel murmuredamazement.

Floor upon floor ofornate wood paneling andleather-boundbooksstretchedup far as the eye could see.On every level, archingwindows allowed long shaftsofsunlighttofallthroughthe

warm and dusty air. Almostimpossibly far above them, afewwooden bridges spannedthelibrary’scavernousspace.

On the ground floor, atwo-story stone structure inthe room’s center acted as aheadquarters to the librarianswho tended the books at allhours. A maze of waist-highreferenceshelvesradiatedoutfrom this building andsurrounded ordered ranks oflong study tables. The

hundred or so studyingwizardsfilledtheairwiththesounds of turning pages andhushedconversations.

Smallwood lectured on.“Now,about the Index, thereistremendousdemandforthething. The Council onArtifact Use must approveeveryquery tomakesure thebook is never endangered. Itis a difficult job, especiallyconsideringthat,eventhoughwe know how to use the

Index, we don’t know whatmakes it work. Its operativespells are written in anunknown language.” Thewizard laughed. “There isalso the matter of privatelibraries. Because the Indexcan search any codex withinStarhaven’s walls, manygrand wizards who illegallykeep private libraries worrythat their secrets might bediscoveredbyrivalsusingtheIndex.”

ThepartycontinuedwithShannon and Smallwood inthe lead, Nicodemus in themiddle,andthefoursentinelstrailingbehind.

They reached thelibrary’s rear wall andventuredintooneofthemanyalcoves. Nicodemus hadnever noticed this particularinlet before. It stretched onfor at least a hundred yardsandseemedlikealong,book-linedcave.

“You see, Nicodemus,”Smallwood said as theywalked, “our research spellseeks to learn how the textaround the Index works, forclearly the artifact possessessome form of textualintelligence. It might tell usmuch about quaternarycognition—howcertainspellsallow us to think with text.Some speculate the Indexmight be a Chthoniccreation.”

Just then thepartycameto the cavern’s end andbeheld a guardian spellsleeping in front of a widemetal door. The goldenconstruct’s massive headrested upon her sphericalMagnus passage. Slowly asingle canine eyelid rose toreveal a burning eye.Suddenly the construct wason all fours, growlingfiercely. Shannon tossed athickstackofpasswordsatit.

The guardian snappedthe textoutof the air as if itwere a ham steak. After along distrustful stare, itbowed. Behind the spell, thedoor swung open to reveal awindowless room with stonewalls. At the chamber’scenter,amarblepodiumheldtheIndex.

Polished brown leathercoveredthebook’sface.Twobrass bands wrapped arounditsspine,securingthemselves

to the board with three steelstuds apiece. A single brassfore-edgeclaspheldthebookshut,andtrian-gularsteeltabsprotected its corners. AsNicodemus drew closer, hesaw innumerable sunburstsetched into the brass. Therewas no ornate boss upon theface or jewels encrusted inthemetalwork,butstillitwasoneof thehandsomestbookshehadeverseen.

After putting down his

stack of manuscripts,Smallwoodbegantoundothebuttons that ran down hissleeves, all the whileinstructing the sentinels tounload their books onto theempty shelves that lined thewalls.

Shannon had alreadyunbuttoned his sleeves toreveal arms that constantspellwriting had keptmuscular in spite of his age.“Our research spell is named

traseus,” he explained toNicodemus.“It’saNuminousandMagnus hybrid designedtovisualize themovementofthe artifact’s language as itsearches for amundane text.The only problem is thattraseus is an expansive spell;that is why we need yourassistance.”

Nicodemuscringedasheslipped his arms out of hisapprentice sleeves. IfShannon and Smallwood

requiredmore runes than thetwo could produce on theirown, it was going to be anonerous task indeed. Helooked back at the sentinels,who presentlywere sufferingone of Smallwood’s lectures.“Mightweaskthemtohelp?”Nicodemus asked Shannonsoftly.

“As fully investedwizards they would beoffended. Besides I’d ratherhave them lounging about. If

they become bored they’remore likely tobedistracted.”He cleared his throatmeaningfully.

Nicodemus nodded.“And howmuch of the spellhasbeenwritten?”Mostoftengrand wizards wrote longresearch spells over severaldays, storing subspells inscrolls or books. Then, atcasting, they would peel offthesubspellsandsplice themtogether.

“None,” Shannonadmitted.“We’veonlydrawnupoutlines.”

“And how many runeswillwerequire?”

“Several hundredthousand in each language,”Shannon said with asigh.“I’m sorry, my boy, but thismight tire you.” He steppedcloser, a green sentenceconspicuously draped acrosshisforearm.

Nicodemus took the

common language spell andtranslated it: “Don’t forget;your to distract Smlwd andwtch-hntrs.”

Nicodemus whispered,“Yes,Magister.Doyouhaveany ideas how to sidetrackthem?”

The old man shook hisheadslightly.“Doyou?”

Nicodemus’s heart beatfaster.“Notyet.”

CHAPTERTwentyThetraseusspellprovedtobeepic indeed. But Nicodemuscould not help parse oranalyze the text. The onlythinghecouldcontributewasstrength. And to harness his

strength, Shannon hadcomposed the wordweavespell: a text he hoped wouldendear Nicodemus to otherwizards.

To cast wordweave,Nicodemusarrangedboth theNuminous and Magnusalphabets into a grid ofcommon language sentences.The linguists then used thegrid to pull Nicodemus’srunesintotheirbodies.

As soon as a wizard

withdrew a rune, Nicodemusforged a replacement andmaneuvered it into position.Instantly a rune in theoppositealphabetdisappeared—Shannon was writing inMagnus, Smallwood inNuminous—and Nicodemuswould replace it, and then arune in the other alphabetwoulddisappearandsoonforhours.

The first to tire of thiswere the sentinels. They

paced or inspected the Indexor the bookshelves. Twostepped outside to examinethe guardian spell standingwatchbeforethedoor.

During this time,Nicodemusforgedinhisarmsandslippedtherunesdowntohis fingers. But after twohours of dropping runes intoplace, his wrists began toache.When he asked if theymight break, Smallwoodexplained that traseus would

bevolatileuntil itwasnearlycomplete; interrupting itscomposition early wouldmake the spell deconstruct.They worked in silence foranotherhour.

Though he never foundtime to look away fromwordweave, Nicodemuscould hear the sentinelspacing. At one point,Shannoncajoledoneof theminto writing shields aroundthe bookshelves—this to

prevent a chaindeconstruction if somethingwent wrong with traseus.Toward dinner, a new set ofNorthern wizards replacedthoseonduty.

To vary his routine,Nicodemus began forgingwithinhis forearm.He rolledthecharactersdown thebackofhishandtoacockedindexfinger and then flicked therunes into the grid. This sawhim through another hour.

But then, in a moment ofinspiration, he began forgingwithinhistongueandspittingthe runes into place.Unfortunately, MagisterSmallwood found thisdistracting, so Nicodemushad to return to forgingwithinhisarms.

One napping sentinelbegantosnore.

OccasionallySmallwoodorShannon stood andplacedacompletedsubspellnearthe

Index. But becauseNicodemus’s task was sodemanding, he did not lookupuntil the traseus spellwasnearly complete; by then hewas lightheaded andfamished.

But the sight of theresplendent text filled himwith so much wonder that iteasedhisdiscomfort.

Thousands of silver andgoldsentenceshadbeenspuninto a seven-foot-tall sphere.

Rubbing his sore armmuscles, Nicodemus walkedcloser to admire its stunningdetail: all across the spell’sglobelike surface, NuminousandMagnuspassagesformedminiaturestreamsthatflowedlikeoceancurrents.

The spellwas stablebutnot yet seamless; in twoplacesthetextparteddownavertical slit. Shannon pulledbackoneoftheseasifitwerea tent flap. Smallwood

climbed into the spell andbegan editing the slitstogether.

Meanwhile Shannonshooed the sentinels out intothe hallway. “Magisters, youarewelcometowatchfromadistance,” the old man said,“but we must have room towork.”

Nicodemus admired thetraseus spell for a fewmoments and then the Index.Retreating to a stool, he

discoveredthathisexhaustionand hunger had produced aheadache. “Magisters,” hesaid, kneading his temples,“mayIaskaquestion?”

“Of course,” Shannonsaid, now studying aluminescent passage he wasforming in his deltoid andbicep.

“What are we going tosearchtheIndexforwhenthetraseusspellisactive?”

“Something of known

location,”Shannonexplained,sending the finished passageinto his balled fist.“Specifically, Bolide’s‘Treatise on Staffs, Wands,andMagicalAdvantage.’Allcopiesofwhicharerestingonthatscrollrack.”

Nicodemus saw thewisdom in this. “Might wesearch for something elsewhenit’sfinished?”

“Such as?” Smallwoodasked. He was scrutinizing

several Numinous passageshehadfusedandhungabovethe spell’s surface like a tinycloud.

Nicodemus paused.“Such as possible remediesforcacography, researchedatinstitutions other thanStarhaven.”

“An excellent idea,”Smallwood said, plucking asentencefromatextualcloud.“But you must put it beforethe Council of Artifact Use.

Andthey’realwaysbusy.”“But might I conduct a

quick search once we’redone?”Nicodemusreplied.

Smallwoodchanged tworunes and looked up. “I’msorry,whatwas that?”WhenNicodemus repeated hisquestion, Smallwood smiledandshookhishead.“Ohdear,no. Rules are rules. And thecouncil might not want a…”He paused to consideranother sentence. “They

mightnotwantacacographerusingtheIndex.”

Nicodemuslookedatthefloor.

“I will apply for such asearch,” Shannon said, “ifyouwill searchallStarhaventexts on the matter, and ofcourse”—he coughedmeaningfully—“after allpressing matters have beenresolved.”

Nicodemus looked up.Shannon was scrutinizing a

passage with his all-whiteeyes.“Thankyou,Magister,Ican promise you that Ialready have scoured theStarhaven libraries ahundredtimes.”

“ThenIwillapply.”These words made

Nicodemus feel giddy andlightheaded.

“Well, Agwu,”Smallwood said, whilemassaginghisrighthandwithhis left, “all the Numinous

domainsarealigned.”Shannon smiled. “That

means I’m holding the onlytwo unconnected lines. Myfriends, let us pray toHakeem.” The three menbowed their heads to thepatron god of wizards.Outside the chamber, thesentinelslookedon.

“Timothy, begin thesearch on the Index now,”Shannon said.He bound twosentences and dropped them

intotheglobe.Smallwood unfastened

the Index’s fore-edge clasp.With a nod to Shannon, heopened the book, paused,then closed it, paused again,opened it again. He repeatedthisprocedureoverandover.

Each time he did this,the Indexmagically retrievedthe information Smallwoodsought. “Watch carefully,”Shannon said, sitting downnext to Nicodemus. “The

traseus spell should visualizetheIndex’slanguage.”

For a few momentstraseus swirled sluggishly.But then the textual currentsgainedawindlikefluidityandblewaroundthetextualglobein thousands of differentcurrents.Fasterandfasterthespell spun until Nicodemuscould no longer make outindividual sentences. WhenSmallwood next opened thebook, faint purple light

flashedaroundtheIndex.Thegrandwizardyippedinjoyasthe traseus spell gainedvelocity.

But then somethingcaught.

Several sentencesbecame rigid. Lines snaggedand split. Currents spun outof control and formed alinguistic hurricane in thespell’slowerhemisphere.Thetextual storm raged withpercussive force, sounding

miniaturethundercracksasitbrokethroughstiffsentences.The purple glimmers aroundtheIndexdisappeared.

“The text isdeconstructing!” Shannoncalled to the sentinels. “Shutthevault!”

They needed littleconvincing; in the nextinstant the chamber doorbegantoswingclosed.

Shannon withdrew ascrollfromhisbelt-purseand

peeled a Numinous spell offits parchment. “Whateverhappens, stay within thistext,” the wizard instructedNicodemus,castingagolden,spherical shield around him.As an afterthought, Shannonplaced Azure on hisapprentice’sshoulder.

A metallic clangreverberated through theroomasthevault’sdoorshut.All was silent for a momentand thenseveral traseus lines

brokewithadeafeningcrack.A feathery Numinous geyserspewed from the sphere’supper pole, making the spellwrinklelikeawinterapple.

Withabackhand stroke,Shannon cast a Magnus lashagainstthespellandcutopena man-sized rift. “Timothy!”hecalled.“Getoutnow.”

Smallwood didn’t needto be told twice; he scoopedup the Index and dashed outofthespell.

Together the linguistshurried back and editedthemselvesintotheprotectiveNuminous spell thatsurroundedNicodemus.

Outside the shield,traseus collapsed and beganto deconstruct violently.Decaying sentences flewabout,strikingthetranslucentshielding spell with jarringforce. The threemen silentlywatched the resplendentchaos.Allwereexhausted.

Unfortunately, theirprotectivespellwasnolargerthanabroomclosetand theyfound themselves standinguncomfortablyclose.

“Nicodemus,” Shannonasked, buttoning up hissleeves, “what did you seewhen the spell wasfunctioning?”

“Purple flashes aroundtheIndex.”

Shannon nodded. “Asdid I. What did you see,

Timothy?”“Nothing,”saidthepale-

faced wizard as he crouchedon a stool, which wascontained within theprotective spell’s limitedspace. Both Nicodemus andShannon stared at the Indexlyingintheman’slap.

Theairwascold,andsoNicodemus drew his armsbackintohissleeves.

With a little shuffling,Shannon managed to turn

back toward the vault.Ostensibly he was watchingthe deconstruction, but bypatting Nicodemus’sshoulder, he furtively cast acommon language sentenceintotheyoungerman’schest.

Translating the line,Nicodemus read: “Mst getIndex frm Smllwd while valtisclosed.Ideas?”

Nicodemus had beenstaring out at thedeconstruction with

unfocusedeyes.Themessagegavehimawildidea.

He handed Shannon areply: “Y have an othershield?Likethiswon?”

Shannonnodded.“Getitredy.”Shannon pretended to

cough. “When?” he gruntedbetweenhacks.

Nicodemusmadeashowof thumping Shannon’s backthen grabbed the grandwizard’s robes and yanked

down hard. Just before theold man fell sideways,Nicodemus cast an answerintohischest:“Now!”

CHAPTERTwenty-oneWith a cry, Shannon fell tohis left and knockedNicodemus toward Small-wood’s stool. To avoidlandingon thesittingwizard,Nicodemus threw his left

hand against the Numinousshield. Nevertheless, his hipcrashed into Smallwood’sface and sent the wizardsprawling back onto thetextualshield.AsNicodemushad hoped, the Index fell tothefloor.

Everyone was shouting.The spherical shield seemedabout to tip and send themtumblingovereachotherlikebugsinarollingglassbubble.

But Shannon leaned

back against the shield’sopposite wall, balancing it.Then, faster than Nicodemusthought the old man couldmove, he bent down andretrieved the Index from thefloor.

Nicodemusexhaledwithrelief. Now came the trickypart: getting Shannon sometime alonewith the Index sothat he could research theirenemy.

Since his first day in

Starhaven, Nicodemus hadworked on preventing histouch from misspellingmagical text.Hehad focusedon rune order, memorizedcomplex sentence structures,learned to block out everythought but those ofpreservingthespellathand.

Now, heart racing, hedidtheopposite.

“Magisters!”Nicodemuscried while nodding towardhis hand. His fingers were

jammed into the shield’sgolden sentences. “It’smisspelling!”

A dark line grew upfromNicodemus’shandashewilled his cacography tomisspell the previouslysmooth sentences intocrinkledzig-zags.

Strangely, the complexNuminous sentencesmisspelledexactlythewayhewanted them to.Most of thetime,Nicodemus’s touchhad

made magical textdangerously uncontrollable.The opposite now seemed tobe true. But he didn’t havetime to dwell on thisphenomenon; he had to getShannon away fromSmallwood.

“I can’t let go!”he lied.“I’m stuck!” A second darkline spread down from hishand. Together, the strata ofcorruption pulled a deepfurrow into the spherical

shield. “Magister, use theother shield!” Nicodemushissed to Shannon. “Formanothersphere.”

Just then adeconstructing Magnus linepunched through thefurrow.The silvery fragmentstruckNicodemusintheface,cutting him from cheekbonetojaw.

“Nicodemus!” Shannoncalled as a spray of bloodfilledtheair.

Nicodemus clapped hisfree hand against thewound.The contracting ring ofmisspells now encircled theshield and was pinching thetext down on top of him.“Magister Smallwood,” hecalled.“Help!”

The shielding spell wasnow nearly two spheresjoinedby a furrow. It lookedsomething like two fusedsoapbubbles.

Smallwood had been

tottering to his feet. NowNicodemus’s cries turned hiseyes up to where theapprentice’s hand wascontextualizedintotheshield.With a squawk, the palewizard jumped up and beganparsing the corruptedNuminous sentencesenmeshing Nicodemus’shand.

When Shannon movedtohelp,Nicodemusshookhishead. “Magister, go!Use the

otherspell.”Reluctantly, Shannon

withdrew a small scroll fromhisbelt-purse.Withpracticedmotions, he peeled theNuminous text from theparchment and edited it intothe shield’s wall closest tohim. The increased textualarea in Shannon’s spherereduced the restrainingtension on the misspellingfurrow; it closed into a tightknot, effectively separating

theshield’stwospheres.Nicodemus released the

text and withdrew thecacographic force he hadbeen exerting on the shield.Smallwood frantically set tocutting out the corruptedsentences.

Shannon, now standingina separateprotective spell,nodded to Nicodemus androlled his shield toward thechamber’s other side. Justbeforethewizarddisappeared

into the storm ofdeconstruction, Nicodemussaw him cradle the Index inhis right arm and open itscover.

“Nicodemus, how couldyou have been so careless?”Smallwood squawked,finishing the seal on theirprotectingspell.

The shield had shrunk.Nicodemushadtocrouch,hishead tilting toone sideashepressedahandtohischeekto

stopthebleeding.“Shannon trusts you

cacographers too much,”Smallwood said in theharshest toneNicodemushadever heard him use. “Youcould have killed us. Couldhave killed us anddeconstructedtheIndex!”

Nicodemusmumbled anapology.

“Well…show me thatcut,” Smallwood said, histonesoftening.“I’lldowhatI

can until Shannon can stitchyouupwithMagnus.”

Nicodemus dropped hishand and looked away.Spikesofpainlancedintohishead as Smallwood scrubbedthe wound with his sleeve;neverthe-less, Nicodemuscouldn’t suppress a small,self-satisfiedsmile.“THAT STUNTWITH the shieldwas exceedingly foolishand…” Shannon muttered toNicodemus.

Four sentinels wereaccompanying them back totheDrumTower, and one oftheNorthernspellwrightswasnowfrowningattheoldman.

Shannon waited for theNortherner to look awaybefore finishinghis sentence.“Exceedingly foolish,Nicodemus, and exceedinglybrave.”

Nicodemus started tosmilebutagonylancedacrosshis wounded cheek. Despite

being placed with care,Shannon’s Magnus stitcheswere extraordinarily painful.“What did you learn?” heasked.

Sitting on Shannon’sshoulder, Azure raised herhead to inspect the nearbysentinels.Thepartywasnowmarching along a wideSpirish arcade in Starhaven’snorthern quarter. Presentlynone of the sentinels wascloseenoughtooverhear.

“NothingaboutagemoremeraldandLanguagePrime.And nothing about theChthonics, ivy, or turtleshells.” Shannon paused. “Iam sorry, Nicodemus; I justrealizedIforgottosearchforremediesforcacography.”

A sinking sensationfilledNicodemus.“That’snotimportantrightnow.Whatofourenemy?”

A smile formed beneaththe wizard’s short beard. “I

discovered what manner ofcreatureweface.”

Nicodemusturnedtothegrandwizard. “Magister!”hewhispered beforeremembering himself andreturning his gaze to theground. “What is ourenemy?” he asked morequietly.

“We face a golem,” thewizard whispered. “They arespells of the ancient world.Accordingtotheliterature,no

one has encountered orcreatedoneonthissideoftheocean.”

“Los in hell,”Nicodemus quietly swore.“So we face an author withknowledge of the ancienttexts. Perhaps a demon-worshiperafterall.Whatelse,Magister? What kind ofconstructisagolem?”

Again Azure examinedthe sentinels; they were stilltoofartooverhear.“Tocreate

a golem text,” Shannonwhispered, “an ancientspellwrighthadtoconverthismindintocomplextextcalleda‘spirit,’whichcontainedallof an author’s magical andmental abilities. This spiritwas then invested into agolem bodymade of earth—mostwereclay,buttherewasmention of metal or rock.Whileanimate,agolemisnota construct but a livingcreature.Agolem’sdurability

dependedonitssubstance:aniron golem would outlive abrass golem, a brass golemwould outlive a mud golem,andsoon.Butthesturdierthegolem,themoretextandtimeitrequiredtoform.”

Nicodemus held histongueasaturninthearcadebrought a sentinel withinearshot. Only when the manhadmovedawaydidhereply:“And that’s why cutting offthe murderer’s arm didn’t

slowhimdown?”Shannon nodded. “The

author’s spirit simplydisengagedfromthewoundedbody and then formed a newone. But from what Iunderstand, any golementering Starhaven wouldsuffer from the stronghold’sChthonic metaspells. A claygolem shouldn’t last fivehours in this place. And onecouldn’tspellwritewithinourwalls.”

Nicodemus eyed thenearest sentinel. “So themaliciousauthorisnot in thestronghold. He could beanywhere.”

“Anywhere close by,”Shannoncorrected.

Fear began to coolNicodemus’s excitement.“We must find the authorhimself. We could slay themanorcreatureorwhateveritiswhileitsspiritisstillinthegolem.”

Shannonshookhishead.“If we knew where theauthor’sbodywashidden,wecoulddo just that.Butwe’venowayoffindingthefiend.”

“But then how can wefightit?”

Shannon started to replybut then stopped as thesentinels stepped in close.Ahead of the party stood theentrance to one of the longhalls that separated theSpirish Quarter from the

Imperial Quarter. The DrumTowerwasn’tfaroffnow.

Once inside thehall, thesentinels spread out, givingNicodemus and Shannonenoughroomtowhisper.

Shannon explained in amurmur: “If a golemdeconstructs before itsauthor’s spirit candisengage,then the author dies alongwith the body. Differentgolems have differentvulnerabilities. Clay golems,

being malleable, areimpervioustoallbutthemostsevere crushing and piercingattacks. However, as Idiscovered,theycanbeeasilycut.”

“But a golem made ofgranite?”

“Would be slower,stronger, and endangered byblunt attacks of sufficientforce.” The wizard tookAzure onto his hand.“Nicodemus,”hesaid loudly,

“wouldyouholdmyfamiliarfor a moment? I need toreadjustmyhood.”

Nicodemus held out hishand and was not surprisedwhen the parrot pressed ashortNuminoussentenceintohis palm. “Take a good lookat that sequence,” Shannonmurmured while pretendingto fuss over his hood. “Doyou think you couldrecognizeit?”

Nicodemus shifted

Azure to his other hand andsquinted down at the line. Iftranslated it would read,“nsohnannanhosn.”Nicodemusclearedhisthroat.“It’s your name writtenbackward and theninterdigitatedwithyournamewrittenforward?”

The old man chuckled.“You can’t spell out theingredientsforhamandeggs,butyoucangleanthat?”

Nicodemus shrugged.

“Order never mattered tome.”

“You may hand Azureback now,” Shannonannounced for the sentinels’benefit.

When Nicodemusobliged, the wizardwhispered. “That will bemycipher for any broadcast Isend. If anything shouldhappen we can find eachother using…what’s thematter?”

“I’m sorry, Magister, Iknow most apprentices cancast broadly, but I’ve never—”

“It’s a ball of shortmessages that’s cast into anever-expanding sphere.Spellwrightsusethemtofindeachotherwhenlost.They’reforbidden in Starhavenbecause of the confusionthey’dcause.However, inanemergency, I’ll begin castingmanyofthemsoyoucanfind

me. Some will have thecorrect cipher, some a decoycipher. Each one is anexpandingsphere.Youaretofollowonlythecorrectciphertoitssource.”

The party climbed ashort,widestairway.

“One more thing,” thewizard said: “that furrow inmyNuminousshieldbackbytheIndex,howdidyoumakeit?”

Nicodemus explained

howhehaddeliberatelyusedhis cacography to misspelltheshield’ssmoothsentencesinto crinkled conformations.Hedidn’tmentionthestrangesensationofincreasedcontrolhe had felt when corruptingthe text; that still confusedandtroubledhim.Soinstead,he focused on how hismisspelled sentences hadpulled the furrow down intothe shield and so distractedSmallwood.

Shannon raised hiseyebrows. “You did that bymisspelling?”

“No, Magister,”Nicodemus said, grinningdespitethepain.“WhenIdidthat, I couldn’t have spelledmorecorrectly.”

Shannon chuckled.“Welldone,myboy.”

The party filed outthrough a door and into theStoneCourt.Nicodemuswasshockedtoseethat theDrum

Tower’s main door and theground floor windows werecoveredbyblazingNuminousbars.

The old man explained:“The spells blocking thedoors and windows arewards. They can be lifted byapplying a key, much like adoor’s passwords. I’veconvincedAmadi to givemeakey. I’d like you to have acopy in case you need toleavethetower.Ifpossible,I

willsendAzurewithakeytoyour window tonight.Otherwise I’ll give you thekeytomorrow.”

Nicodemus nodded.“Thewards are to protect uscacographers from themurderer?”

“Iwantedmore, but theprovost doesn’t want theconvocation’s atten-dees toknow about the murderer. Idon’t know if thewardswillstop an author capable of

composingagolem.Buttherewillbetwosentinelsguardingthe tower.Therewill also betwo of them watching myquarters. So at least we willbesafetonight.”

Nicodemus glanced attheoldman.“Butwehaven’ttalkedabouteverythinginmylast nightmare. There’s thecaveIsawwiththebodyandthe strange turtles and thehexagonal pattern at the endof the Spindle Bridge.

Perhaps our enemy hassomething to do with theSpindle. Some door in themountainside or somethingabout moving themountain…”

Shannon motioned forNicodemus to quiet down.“I’vethoughtofthattoo.Butthere’s nothing we can dotonight.Nowweneed to restwhileit’sstillpossible.”

The old man paused.“Tonight I want you to pay

special attention to yourdreams.”

CHAPTERTwenty-twoAs before, Deirdre regainedconsciousness and foundherself on theground, cryingas Kyran kneeled over her.But this time he had nocaresses or soft words. This

timehiseyeswerewidewithfear. “Los in hell, Deirdre!Whydidyousendmeaway?Areyouhurt?”

“No,” she gaspedbetweensobs.“No,I’m…I’mfine.”

Magical willowispsfloated about the room,shedding a soft blue-greenlight. She was still in theChthonic cell where thecreaturehadcaughther.“Thevision!” shewhispered. “The

visionreturned.”Kyranwrappedhisarms

around her and murmuredthat if she was not hurteverythingwouldbeallright.

“Inthevisions,”shesaidtremulously, “I was on theriverbank again, in theHighlands,andthewhitewolfcame. It had a man’s headwithburningredeyes.He…”She gulped down air. “Hestabbedme somehow…and Icame apart and floated down

theriver.”“It was only a vision,”

Kyran murmured. “Whathappenedhere?”

Haltingly, she told himhow the creature had chasedher into thecellandhowshehad fallen into a seizure justas the creature forced thecell’s door open. “But, Ky,why am I still alive? Howhaveyoufoundme?”

“I followed thesentinelstothegroundlevel thenback

up to the Spindle Bridge,where they met Shannon.They reported his trick to noone. Shannon, the boy, andthe sentinels went into alibrary too well guarded forme to follow.” He glowered.“Deirdre, you should neverhave sent me away! I couldhave—”

“Ky, you’re notlistening!” She pushed hishands away. “Why am I stillalive? Why didn’t the beast

killme?”“Ourgoddessmusthave

manifested herself directly inyou, so you could slay thebeast.”

Deirdre sat up. “Whatare you saying? That Boannis controlling me during myseizures? Why would shedo…”

Her voice died as hereyes fell on the body lyingalong one wall. It wascovered with a ripped white

cloak.“Perhaps,” Kyran

whispered,“wewon’tneedtofind its true body? Perhapsyouslewtheconstructbeforethe author’s spirit coulddisengage?”

From her current angle,Deirdre could see nothing ofthe creature’s head save theclay neck, which a singlesword stroke had cleaved intwo.

STANDING ON A tower bridgein the Imperial Quarter, thecreature looked down at theStone Court and the wizardsstanding guard before theDrumTower.

“Sentinels for guards,Shannon?” he asked the air.“Andwardsonthedoorsandwindows?” That would stophimfrom luring theboysoutoftheacademywithdreams.

Now bolder action wasneeded.

Perhaps a direct attack?In the Stone Court he couldspellwrite.Thatwouldlethimkill the guards, disspell thewards, and move into theDrum Tower with a blade.But the sentinels might raisean alarm, or a guardingconstruct might attack whenhewasinside.

Itwastoorisky.He thought again about

rewritingmoreofStarhaven’sconstructs. He had already

rewritten a gargoyle on theErasmineSpire to spyon thewizard’s colaboris spells.And he had drafted a ratlikegargoyle with a large ear onits back. Perhaps he couldcorrupt a war-weightconstruct?

No, that would take toolong.

The creature thoughtagain about Shannon andpulled the back of his handacross his lips. The old

human had gone to thesentinels, gaining protectionbut sacrificing freedom; thesentinels would now watcheverythingShannondid.

This was not theintriguing counterstroke thecreaturehadhopedfor.

He thought aboutattacking the Drum Towerwithhistruebody;thatwouldbe less dangerous than usinga golem. Still, it was toorisky. He should be able to

deviseasaferplan,especiallynow that he had encounteredthatgirlinthedruidrobes.

Somewhere among thetowers,a ravenbegan tocry.Thecreaturerememberedthathe still had to run down toGray’s Crossing. “Wretchedvillage,”hegrumbled.

Leaning on the bridge’srailing, he narrowed his eyesand began to think. It wastimetoremoveShannonfromplay.

DEIRDRE TURNED OVER theclay head with her boot. Itsface had been squashed flatagainst the floor. Nodistinguishing featureremained.Long fragments ofwhatlookedtohavebeenhairlay scattered around on thedustyground.

Next to her, leaning onhis wooden staff, Kyrangrunted. “Perhaps you killedthe author along with the

body?”She shook her head.

“We must assume the fiendlives. We should take thePeregrine to our goddess’sark as soon as possible. Thecreature is aware of mypresence now and maybecomemoredesperate.”

“Wecan’treachtheboynow with the sentinelsguarding him. But they willkeep him safe for the night.Weshouldsleep.”

Deirdre looked at herprotector. “Do you reallythinkheissafe?”

He regarded her for amoment, his brown eyesnearlyblackinthegreenlightof his spells. “We mustsleep.”

WHEN THE IDEA came, thecreaturelaughedoutloud.

A cold wind wasblowing over the towerbridge. Far below, in the

Stone Court, several torchesflutteredandwinked.Thetwoguarding sentinels pulledtheir black cloaks moretightly about their frailbodies.

The creature laughedagain; the plan was brilliant.By enlisting the sentinels,Shannon had forged the toolthatwouldbehisundoing.

During the creature’sfirstencounterwithShannon,hehad fledwithNoraFinn’s

research journal, hoping tofind the boy’s name inside.Thewomanhadbeenprudentenoughtoavoidthat.But thecreature still had the journal,andnowwas the time to useit.

His new plan to trapShannon would be achallenge; he could notspellwritewithinthelibraries.However, he could cast textsinto the libraries fromoutside. Entering the old

fool’s rooms would be moredifficult. He would have tosacrificehispresentgolemtoplace the book. Worse wastheissueoftime:thecreaturehad to run down to themiserablevillageandback.

Still, it would bepossible if he cast the cursesimmediately.

The creature turned andstarted for the nearest tower.He did not need to removeShannon; the sentinelswould

dothatforhim.

CHAPTERTwenty-threeWhenNicodemusopenedhiscommon room door, thetapers were snuffed and thefiresmoldering.SinceleavingShannon, his excitement andfear had faded. Now his

empty stomach groaned, hiswoundedcheekthrobbed,andhisexhaustedeyesstung.

“Fiery heaven,” hegrumbled, picking his wayacross the darkened commonroom. What if he were notexcusedfromapprenticedutyin the morning? Would hehave to avoid a golemwhilemopping—

His left shin slammedinto something hard.Whatever it was clattered on

thefloor.“BloodofLos!”heswore. By feeling aroundwithhishands,hediscovereda chair’s square legs. Thesqueaking of a bed framecame from Simple John’sroom.

Nicodemus righted thechair. “Bind those idiots fornotcleaningup,”hegrowled.“WhenI—”

Adooropenedtospillaverticalbeamoffirelightintothedarkness.“SimpleJohn?”

SimpleJohnasked.Nicodemus’s anger

melted.“It’sallright,John.Ijusttripped.”Thedoorswungwidetofillthecommonroomwith the shifting light of thebig man’s fire. “John, I’mfine.”

Simple John inspectedNicodemus’s face withconcern. “No,” he saidwhileplodding over to his fellowcacographer. A powerfulhand landed onNicodemus’s

shoulder.“Really, John, the cut

was just a research accident.There’snoneed—”

“No,” Simple John saidbeforeenvelopingNicodemusin a hug. “Simple John,”Simple John said whilemashing Nicodemus’s headintohischest.

At first Nicodemusleaned into the massive wallthatwasJohnandlethisarmshang limp. But after a

moment, he half-heartedlyreturnedthehug.SimpleJohnreleased him and said,“Splatteringsplud!”

“Splattering splud,”Nicodemus agreed. “Thatabout describes my life:splatteringsplud.”

They exchangedgoodnights and Nicodemusstumbled into his chamber.He’d forgotten to put thepaper screen in the windowandnowtheroomwascold.

“Oh, hang it all,” hesighedandtossedtheignitionwordsintothefireplace.Soona flame danced among thelogs and illuminated hisroom’s usual disarray. Heuntied his belt-purse andtosseditontohiscot.

Atthesoundofaknock,he turned to see Devinstanding in thedoorway.Shewaspinningacloakabouthershoulders and trying ondifferentfrowns.

“I heard you come in,”she grunted. “I’ve been puton nighttime janitorial duty.Thebloodyprovostwantstherefectory cleaned in the darkso thatnoneof the foreign—blood and fire! Whathappenedtoyourcheek?”

Nicodemus covered itwith his hand. “Nothing. Anaccident during Shannon’sresearch.”

“Nico, don’t be stupidabout wanting a linguist’s

hood. If Shannon’s givingyou work you can’t safelyhandleyoushould—”

“Dev,I’mfine.”She held her hands up.

“All right, all right.No needto be fussy. But it proveswhatIwassayingabouthowStarhaventreatsus.Youthinkilliterates get cut up whendoingtheirchores?”

Nicodemus sat heavilyin on his sleeping cot. “And,Dev, I’m sorry about what I

said today in the refectory—about your wanting to getmarried. I just assumed thatbecause you gossip so muchabout who’s fooling aroundwithwhom…well,that—”

“It proves you’ve gotdonkey dung for brains, Iagree,” Devin retorted. “Butyou’renotentirelyworthless;everythingyoutoldmeaboutLosbecomingthefirstdemonhelped with MagistraHighsmithtoday.”

Nicodemus opened hismouth, but before he couldmake a sound she said,“Anyway, like I said, I haveto go to janitorial in therefectory.I’llbebackatsomeunholy hour in the morning.It’s just you and John heretonight. The young ones areasleep despite all theexcitement the sentinelsoutsidecaused.”

She ticked off a fewobscenities about sentinels

writing wards on their door.“I have to call out and waitfor the guards to open thedoor.” She looked up. “Youknowwhythey’rebottlingusuporwhywe’renotallowedtoleaveStarhaven?”

Nicodemus shook hishead. He had promisedShannonhissilence.

“Well, if any of thecacographic girls get upsettonight they’ll be coming toyou. Think you can handle

that?”When Nicodemus said

thathecould,sheleftwithoutclosing the door. Tiredly herose and shut it himself.Whenheturnedback,hesawhis newest knightly romancelying under his cot. A weaksmilecreasedhislips.

After lighting a bedsidecandle and covering thewindowwithitspaperscreen,he sat on the bed andretrievedthebook.ItwasThe

SilverShield.ThepeddlerhadwantedsevenLornishpenniesfor the romance; Nicodemushadtalkedhimdowntofour.

It was a plain codex,leather-bound, withoutmetalwork, and clasped withasimplerawhidecord.

Lightly, he ran hisfingers down the spine andremembered the many longbetween-duties hours he hadspentreading.

As the logs in the fire

began to crackle,Nicodemusopened the cover and staredatthefirstline.Hepassedhiseyes over it four times, buteach time he saw the lettersand not the words. Hisattention wandered to theilluminations drawn in themargins. Two mountedknightschargedeachother.Aspear-wieldingsoldierbattleda black, scaly-tonguedmonster.

Helayback,proppedup

his head on a pillow, and herescanned the first line. Butstillhismindrefusedtoread.Slowly,carefully,hetracedafinger along theilluminations.

In the morning perhapshe would scold himself forsentimentality, but now hischest rose and fell with aslowsigh.

Asaboyhehadwantedtoescapeintosuchastory.Inhisdreams,hehadpopulated

the nearby woods withimaginary monsters that hecouldventureouttodefeat.

He had wanted to donarmor and clash withTamelkan, the eyelessdragon,orGarkex,thehornedfiretroll, or maybe a neo-demonwhodistortedmagicallanguage for its ownpurposes. He had wanted torestore the peace, save thekingdom,bethehero.

One of these boyhood

longings echoed through hisheartnow.Slowlyhelaidtheopen book on his chest. Heclosed his eyes and tried tofindthedreamsofyouth.

Hewantedtoseeaflockof birds, white as snow,flying high above bare stonepeaks that surrounded averdant valley. He wanted aswordonhishipandachancetowalkdownintothatvalleyat sunset. He wanted to findnight resting on the

waterfalls, golden firelighthalf-hidden in the humandwellings.

And so he fell slowly,gently into sleep. At first hedreamedof the thingshehadlonged for, and he knewpeace.

But then came thenightmare.

MAGISTRA AMADI OKEKEstifled a yawn as she begananother circuit around the

Dagan Courtyard with hersecretary.

“But what if neitherShannon nor Nicodemus isconnected to the recentdeaths?”Kale asked, rubbinghiseyes.

Itwas late and theyhadbeen discussing theirinvestigationforhours.

As Amadi consideredKale’s question, she lookedout into the courtyard. Thewide rectangular space was

illuminated by incandescentprose strewn along thesurrounding spires andvaultingarcades.

Walkways divided theyard into quarters, each ofwhich held flower gardenswith a few stone benchestucked into shrub-linedalcoves.Onsomeofthesesatgreen-robed hierophantsenjoying the crisp air after anight of treaty negotiation instuffylibraries.

In thecourtyard’scenterstood a copse of aspen trees,theiroutermostleavesalreadyautumngold.

Amadi turned back toKale. “It’s exceedinglyunlikelythatwewilldiscovera delegate or anotheracademic who wished Noraill.That’swhywemustfocusonShannon.”

Kale shook his head.“Magistra, you’ve alwayssaidasentinelcan’taffordto

ignore unlikely possibilities.Shouldn’t we question moreStarhaven wizards andforeigndelegates?”

“Kale, you’re upset thatI withdrew some authorsfromyour investigations.Butwe are terribly shorthanded,andwemustguardtheDrumTower and Shannon.” Sheexhaledinexasperation.“I’mstillamazedbyhisstoryofacreature turning from fleshintoclay.”

Kale shrugged. “Maybetheoldman’slosthiswits.”

“Or maybe he onlywantsustothinkhe’slosthiswits. Or maybe Nicodemustruly is the Storm Petrel andhas corrupted the old fool’smind. It’s all too dangerouswiththosetwo.”

Kalelookedather.“Andwhatof theprovost’s requesttopostmoresentinelsaroundthe delegates’ sleepingquarters?”

Amadi rubbed her eyes.“Sweetheaven,that’sright.Ifa delegate ends up dead, theprovostwillhavemeskinnedalive. But how canwe comeupwithanymoreauthors?”

“I’ve inspected thewards on the Drum Tower,”Kalesaidcarefully.“Itwouldtake a master spellwright todisspell them. Perhaps theguardsaresuperfluous?”

Amadichewedherlipasthey turned a corner.

“Tempting, but no; we’llleavetheguardsuntilIknowmore about Shannon’s story.There’s a chance he’s tellingthetruth.”

Kalesaidnothing.Amadi looked back at

the courtyard. “Starhavenmust be the strangest bit ofarchitecture humans haveeverinhabited.”

“Why’sthat?”She gestured first at the

courtyardingeneralandthen

attheaspentreesinitscenter.“Look at these interlacingarches, these brightly tiledfountains.We’d have to rideclear up to Dar for a betterexample of royal Spirisharchitecture. And yet at thecenter of all these minaretsare aspens.Aspens! Thereshould be palm frondsswaying in a sea breeze, notgold leaves quaking in thinmountainair.”

Kalesmiled.“Itisoddto

think of the royal Spirishcolonizing this place. Theymust have been miserablewhenitsnowed.”

Amadi nodded. “Threekingdomstriedtoremakethischunk of Chthonic rock intheir image. All failed, andnow we wizards play in theruins.”

Kale chuckled. Butbefore he could say what hefound funny, the sound ofrunning feet filled the

courtyard.Amadi turned around to

see a young Starhavenacolyte skid to a halt.“Magistra Okeke, you’re tocome to Engineer’s libraryimmediately!”

Amadi frowned. “Onwhosecommand?”

Theboyshookhishead.“Don’t know her name,Magistra. A grand wizard,shewears awhite badge andthreestripesonhersleeves.”

Amadi swore. Only adeputy provost could wearsuch marks. “Take us therequickly,”shesaid.

Theboy turned and ran.Amadihikedupherrobesandfollowed.

They pursued the youngpage through a blur ofhallways toanarchway largeenoughtoadmitsevenhorsesrunningabreast.

Beyond sat anextraordinarily wide library.

Long ago Starhavenengineershadfilledtheplacewith a row of limestonebridges that spanned thewidthoftheroom.

Along each archstretched wooden facadesdecorated in the ornateSpirish style and convertedintobookshelves.Alabyrinthof traditional bookshelvesflowed beneath the bridgeslike a river’s convolutedcurrents.

Theplacewasalivewithyelling librarians. Teams ofblack-robes rushed acrossbridges and among thebookshelves. A sudden,goldenjetofNuminousproseexplodedfromonebridgeandwas quickly followed by achorusofshouts.

“Mother ocean!” Kaleissued the Ixonian curse.“What’shappening?”

Suddenly a nearbybookshelfburst intoamolten

ball of silvery Magnus.Amadi had just enough timeto turn away and cover herface before a shockwave offragmented prose andmanuscriptsstruck.

When Amadi lookedback,shesawapileofrubblewhere the shelf had stood.“Firey blood of Los!” sheswore.Amidthedetritusnowwriggled four pale-skinnedconstructsthattooktheshapeofgiantwormsorgrubs.

Eachwasroughlyafootlong, possessing huge eyesand a segmented body. Justbelow each spell’s bulboushead sprouted three pairs oflegs that ended in childlikehuman hands. Moredistressing were the bulginghind portions; in thosesegments speckled bits ofhalf-digested text shonethrough their translucentcarapaces.

“Disspell them before

they reach a shelf!” Amadibarked and drew her armback. Within moments shehad filled her fist with alaceratedisspell.

Already the nightmareconstructswere scurrying fornearbybooks.Theirgrasping,childlike hands moved themoverthedebriswithalarmingspeed.

Beside her, Kaleextemporizedaspearmadeofcommon magical language.

Withanululatingwarcry,hecharged.

Amadi cast her disspellwithherbestoverhandthrow.The lacerate text—awhirlingmassofMagnusshards—shotthrough the air to slicethrough a monster’sabdomen.Thespellwailedasits carapace split open anddisgorgeditstextualviscera.

Kale leaped over thedeconstructing monster andgracefully thrust at the next

worm.Thethingjumpedbacktoavoidthespear’sblade.

Kale, like manyIxoanians, was an excellentspearman. The instant hisboots touched ground, heleapedandthrustagain.

The worm retreatedagain but too slowly. Kale’sspearhead plunged into itsabdomen.The thing shriekedand tried to pull away, butKale had twisted his spearand caught the thing’s

carapacewiththespearhead’sbarbs.

“Magistra,” he called,improvising a club of bluntpassages. “By the bridge!”With a powerful club stroke,he split the construct’s headwithacrack.

Amadi looked beyondthesecretaryandsawanotherconstruct scampering towardthe bridge. By this time, shehad composed anotherlacerate disspell. “Where’s

the fourth?” she shouted.“Findit.”

As she hadwritten it todo, her lacerate dispersedmidair and bom-barded theunfortunate monster with astorm of blades. The thingclicked and squealed as itbegan to writhe intodeconstruction.

“Ican’tfindthefourth!”Kale called. “I can’t find it!”He was turning aroundfrantically, looking for the

fourthmonster.Amadi’s heart went

cold. Not eight feet behindhim,oneof themonstershadreachedabookshelf.Itrearedup on its abdomen and usedits childish hands to pull aheavy codex from theshelves.

“Behind you!” Amadishouted.

As Kale spun around,the giant worm opened thebook.Itsheadunraveleditself

into a cloud of glowinggoldenprose.

Kalelunged.Butevenashisspearwhistledthroughtheair, the creature jammed itstextual head into the book.Instantly, the thing’s bodytextualized and dove into thepages.

Kale’s spear swungthrough empty air as thecodex fell to the floor andsnappedshut.

“Damnit!Getbackfrom

the book!” Amadi ordered.Kaledeftlyjumpedaway.Sheran in and covered theinfected codex in a thickMagnusshield.

“Magister, what’shappened?” a frightenedvoice asked. Amadi glanceduptoseetheboywhohadledthem to the library staring atKale. She returned toswaddling the book withMagnussheets.

“What were those

things?”theboyasked.Kale squatted down to

look in the boy’s eyes. “Areyouallright, lad?There’snodangeranymore,butweneedtostandfartheraway.”

TheboynoddedasKalepulledhimback.“Whatwerethey?”

“Bookworms,” Kaleexplainedgravely.“Maliciouslanguage that invadesmanuscripts. They eat all theprose in a text and use it to

make copies of themselves.When there are too manybookworms in a codex, itexplodes. They use theexplosion to spreadthemselvestootherbooks.”

“And one of them gotinto that book?” the boyasked.

“That’swhyMagistra iscasting a containing spellaroundit.Thatwillprotectusifitbursts.”

Amadi had never

encased an infected codexbefore, and so she wasrelievedwhensheglancedupand saw a small train oflibrariansrushingtowardher.At their head strode anancient grand wizard in adeputyprovost’srobe.

“Sentinel Amadi Okekeof Astrophell, I presume?”the deputy provost boomed.She was a short, fat woman.A thin halo of white hairwreathed her wrinkled face.

Her hood was lined withorange cloth signifying thatshewasalibrarian.Givenherrank, she was undoubtedlyStarhaven’s Dean ofLibraries.

“Yes,Magistra,” Amadiblurted, silently cursingherself for not learning thiswoman’sname.

The dean wasted notime.“Whatisthissituation?”

“A violentdeconstruction produced four

class-four bookwormconstructs,” Amadi reported.“Three curses weredeconstructed but the lastinfectedthiscodex.”

Theancientdeannoddedto a librarian behind her.“Hand that toMagister Lurohere. He’ll lift the curse ordestroythebook.”

Amadi handed theinfected codex to the younggrand wizard who steppedforward.

The deputy provoststudied her for a moment.“Magistra, we are facing abookworm infection unlikeany I have known.Starhaven’s protectivelanguage is among the mostrobust in the world, and yetthese curses have spread tofour libraries. They arerapidly destroying invaluablemanuscripts.”

The ancient womanshook her head. “They’ve

tertiary cognition and theirexecutive languageconfounds all but our mostdirect methods ofdeconstruction. Whoeverwrotethemhasanastoundingunderstanding of textualintelligence.”

“Textual intelligence?”Amadi repeated. That wasShannon’sspecialty.

“Indeed,” the deancontinued. “I must have allavailable sentinels under my

command until this infectionis contained. We cannot letthe foreign delegates see thischaos.Itwouldembarrasstheacademy.”

As if to punctuate herpoint, a massive silver ballblossomed on the farthestbridge. An instant later, athunder-like boom shook thelibrary.

Amadi flinched. “Yes,Magistra,rightaway.”

But the other woman

wasalreadystridingoffinthedirection of the blast. Hertrain of librarians hurriedafter.

Amadi turned to hersecretary.“Wakeoursleepingauthors and fetch those notfulfilling essential duties.They’re to report to herimmediately.”

Kale raised hiseyebrows. “Even thoseguarding the Drum TowerandMagisterShannon?”

Amadi took a deepbreath. “Leave the twofollowing Shannon, but pullthe guards from Shannon’squartersandtheDrumTower.We’ll put themback as soonastheinfection’scontained.”

“Right away,Magistra,”Kale said and was offrunning.

CHAPTERTwenty-fourStrangely, Nicodemus knewhewasdreaming.

Around him seethed atunnel of gray and blacklanguage—an endless,meaningless mash of written

words. He was travelingdown it.Magister Shannon’svoice sounded above him: “Idon’tunderstand.Turtles?”

Then his own voice:“Look, that hexagonalpattern…”—the wordsbecame faint—“…of a turtleshell.”

The voices died and intheir place sounded a longseries of rhythmic, echoingclacks.

And then Nicodemus

stood in the cavern of hisprevious nightmare—lowceiling, gray floors, a blackstone table. The body lyingupon itwas again covered inwhite. Again a teardropemerald lay in its glovedhands.

But new to the cavernwas a standing stone, as tallas a man and as broad as ahorse. It stood behind theblack table.Threeundulatinglines flowedfromthestone’s

topdowntoitsbase.White, vinelike stalks

erupted from the ground andswayed to an unfelt breeze.The stalks sprouted pale ivyleaves and began tointertwine. Within moments,a knee-high snarl of albinoivycoveredthefloor.

“I was the demon’sslave,” a low voice rumbled.It came from everywhere. “Icut him in the river.” Thevoicegrewlouder.“Icuthim

intheriver!”Nicodemus tried to run,

butthepaleivyentangledhislegs. He tried to scream, buthis throat produced only alongpainfulhiss.Hereacheddowntopullattheweedsbutfrozewhenhe sawhishandscovered by the hexagonalplatesofaturtle’sshell.

Suddenly he could notmove somuch as his eyelid.From toe to top hair he wasencasedinthickblackshell.

“I CUT HIM IN THERIVER!”

A blinding red lightenveloped Nicodemus.Agony lanced through hisevery fiber as his shellshattered.

Looking up, he saw theemerald produce a sphere oflight—wispy and sallow atthe edges, but blazing greenatitscore.

The small emerald’sradiance grew until it burned

the cavern and everything initintoairynothingness.

Above stretched a pale-bluesky,below,lushsavannagrass. Ancient oak treesdotted a hillside thatoverlooked the wide, greenwater of a reservoir.Nicodemus recognized theplace as a springtime Spirishmeadow near his father’sstronghold.

In themeadow’s center,a tattered blanket provided

seatingforayoungboyandawoman. She was a rarebeauty:paleskinwitha lightsprayoffreckles,brighthazeleyes set above a snub nose,thinlips,adelicatechin.

But her most stunningfeature was the long bronzehaircascadingdownherbackinslowcurlsthatglintedgoldinthesunlight.

A book, a knightlyromance, sat in thewoman’slap. Her lips moved as she

read from it but the dreamprovidednosound.

The boy had long blackhair and a dark olivecomplexion. He was perhapseight years old and gazed atthe womanwith fierce greeneyes. This was as much amemoryasitwasadream.

Thewoman’s namewasApril,theboy’sNicodemus.

Thiswasavisionoflongago when Lord Severn—Nicodemus’s father—had

seenfittoeducatehisbastard.The lord had brought Aprilinto his household ostensiblyto educate his son, but mosteveryone knew the lordvisitedherchamberatnight.

April had been a kindteacher but not a determinedone. After Nicodemus’s firstdozen futile reading lessons,she began reading herfavorite books aloud to him.Being Lornish, April hadbeen enamored of knightly

romances.And after the firsttaleofmaidensandmonsters,sowastheyoungNicodemus.

Thedreambecamefluid.The vision of April and hisyoung self began to flicker.NowNicodemus’simagewasten years old. There wereflashesofNicodemusreadingalone,butmoreoftenhewaswith April, begging her forsomething.

Memory provided thedetails the dream left out. In

what was perhaps the onlyshrewd act of her life, Aprilhad noticed Nicodemus’sinterest in knightly romanceandbeganreadingtohimlessand less.When possible, shestopped at a tale’s mostexciting point, claiming shewastootiredtocontinue.

The young Nicodemusyearned to learn whathappened next in each story,buthisprogresswasslow.Attimes he confused his

frustration regarding the textwith his frustration regardinghisgoverness’sbody.

Noticing hisimprovement, April ceasedreading to him entirely butsupplied more books. Nowthe dream showed onlyimagesofNicodemusreadingalone.

The dream worldshifted. Gone were themeadow andsunshine.Nicodemus now

watched his ten-year-old selflyingabedinhissmallSevernHold chamber. He wasreadingabooktitledSwordofFlame.

The bedside candlesdanced as several nightsflickered by—this was thetimewhen,inthreeagonizingmonths, Nicodemus hadtaughthimself toreadsothathemightfindoutifAelfgar,anoble paladin, could mendCailus, his broken sword,

with the Fire Stones ofTa’nak, and then wield it tofree the beautiful ShaharafromZade,anevilclericwhocommanded the snakelikeZadsernak.

Although the youthfulNicodemus had had troubleremembering the many sillyinvented names, he wasdelighted with the story’sinevitablecourseandeagertoread the next twenty-sevenbooksintheseries,thoughhe

doubted that theywere all asgood.

Time flickered again.Now Nicodemus saw thewarmnight onwhich he hadfinishedSwordofFlame.Hisyoung self laid the bookdown on his chest and fellasleep to the soundof springrain and the cries of a fullrobin’s nest outside hiswindow.

“No,” the adultNicodemus moaned. On this

night,inadreamaboutApril,he would be born to magic.The resulting magicaleffulgence would set theentirewesternwingofSevernHold on fire, killing a horseandmaimingtwostableboys.

“Wake!” Nicodemusshouted. “Wake up!”But hisboyish self slepton.He triedto move but found his adultlegs paralyzed. The windowabove young Nicodemuscreakedopen.

A thick arm of ghostlywhite ivy vines grew withjerky, nightmare speed ontothe window frame andsurroundedthebed.TheadultNicodemus yelled again,tryingtowakehimself.

The nightmare ivyhadn’t been there when hehad been a boy. But now itspaletentaclesleapedontothebed and within momentsblanketed the dreaming childwithashen leaves.Theworld

exploded with light.Everywhereflamesroared.Ahorse screamed its death asthe rafters came crashingdown around Nicodemus.The stone walls tottered andthenfellwithadeep,grindinggrowl.

Suddenly nothing hungabove Nicodemus but a too-low nightmare sky ofseething gray text. Next tohim stood April, untouchedby flames. “Run,

Nicodemus!” she cried. “Hehas your shadow!” Darknessradiatedfromher,blottingoutthenightmaresky.

“Thereisnosafeplace!”Her hair became trains ofstars and spread across thegrowingnightsky.

“The white beast willfind youunless you fly fromStarhaven! Flywith anythingyouhave!”

Her body faded intonothing and her face became

theglowingfaceofthewhitemoon.

“Fly and don’t lookback!”

There was a deafeningcrashandthen…blackness.

“Neverlookback!”

AMADI WAS SITTING in thehallway, using two Magnusclausestopicksplintersfromherforearm,whenKalefoundher.

“Magistra! What

happened?”She flinched as a clause

drew out a half inch ofbloody wood. “Bookwormsinfested both sides of abridge. We were containingthe first blast when thesecond went off in my ear.Thedeputyprovostwasright:thesewormshaveanuncannyintelligence. Every time itseems we’ve deconstructedthe last one, another violentdeconstruction pulls us back

intoafray.”She looked up at her

secretary. He had severalscrolls tucked under one armand a thick codex under theother. Behind him stood thetwo sentinels who had beenguardingShannon’squarters.

“And what in theburning hells took you solong?”sheasked.“TheDrumTower guards were here anhourago.”

Kale smiled. “News

mostwonderful!We found awounded bookwormresponding to a leftoverhomingpassage.”

He held out one of thescrolls. “Six minor librariesare fighting infestation now.But so far the Main Libraryhas remained free ofinfection,thankHakeem.AndStarhaven is doing aremarkable job of hiding thewholeaffair.Butstill,thereisfierce fighting in all of the

infected libraries. And itseemsthatinoneofthemthisbookwormwaswoundedinaveryfortuitousway.”

“Fortuitous?” Amadiacceptedthescroll.

“By chance, a disspelldestroyed most of thisbookworm’s executive text.So the construct resorted toan older, previously disabledprotocol about what to do ifwounded.” He held outanotherscroll.

Amadi took it and thenlooked at the two sentinelswhohadbeenonguardduty.Kale was only a lesserwizard, and the bookwormswere written in Numinousand Magnus. “You twosubdued the construct andthenparseditsstructure?”

Theynoddedvigorously.Kale piped up again.

“All the other woundedbookworms have beenreturning to another location.

But this one had beenwoundedinsuchawaythatitcouldn’t. However, we wereable to learnwhere it shouldhavegone.”

Amadi raised hereyebrows.

“The bookworms havebeen subtextualizingthemselvesandreturningtoaprivatelibraryinatowernearthe Bolide Garden,” heexplained. “There they’vebeen engulfing some text

stored there. Once recoveredthey head back out to infectotherlibraries.”

“So the author of thesebookwormssetupthisprivatelibrary as a base for thebookworms?”

Kaleheldout therestofhis scrolls and the codex.“Just so.And theworms cansubtextualizethemselveswellenough that we never wouldhavefounditifitweren’tforthis wounded worm. In any

case, when we found theplace, we disspelled thewormsand then investigated.That’s where we foundthese.”

Amadiset thescrollsonthe ground and turned herattention to the codex. “Andwhatarethey?”

“What you’re holdingnow is Nora Finn’s researchjournal.”

Amadi looked upsharply. “The journal

Shannon claimed the claymonsterranoffwith?”

Kale’s smile seemedwideenough to split his facein half. “Exactly! It seemsthat Nora Finn was takingbribesfromaSpirishnobletowatch a certain student. Andseems there still is anotherspy.Thatscrolltherecontainsnotesaboutacorrespondencewith a different Spirish dukeand an Ixoanian admiral.Wecouldn’t figure out why, but

thenoblesseemtobepayingthe author to disrupt thisconvocation.”

“We had two spies forSpirishnoblesinStarhaven?”Amadi half-squawked. “NoraFinn and the owner of theprivate library? And thissecondspy tookbribes to setthesebookwormsloose?”

“Worse than that,” thesecretary added. “The scrollsby your feet are drafts ofcurses written to infiltrate a

spellwright’s body and forceittooverexertitself!”

Amadi feltherhandsgonumb.“Likethemisspellthatkilled Nora Finn and theneophyte. Did you find anyevidence of the remainingspy’sidentity?”

Kaleshookhishead.“Ofcourse not. The author wastoo intelligent for that. ButMagistra, remember the firstbookworm we found; itshould have returned to this

private library, but it wasdamagedinsuchawaythatitaccidentally returned to apreviously designatedlocation. Well, we searchedthat location and found ahidden chest filled with anappalling number of Spirishand Ixonian coins. AndMagistra, you forgot to askwherethatlocationwas.”

Amadi looked at Kaleand then at the two sentinelsbehind him. “No, don’t tell

me,”shesaid,pressingahandto her forehead. “I alreadyknow.”

CHAPTERTwenty-fiveThough Shannon had beensincere when he toldNicodemus to rest while itwas still possible, the grandwizardfoundhimselfwalkingnot tohisquarters,but tohis

study.Neitherofthesentinelsfollowing him objected; theywould be up all night nomatter ifhewas lying inbedorsittingatadesk.

After leaving the guardsoutsideand locking thedoor,Shannon put Azure on aperch and assured her shecould sleep. He knew hisstudy well enough to moveabout without mundanevision.

Though he was

exhausted, the idea of agolem had roused hiscuriosity.Howcouldmagicallanguagecreatesuchabeing?Asheponderedthisquestion,habit prompted him toretrieve his research journaland absently finger the threeasterisks embossed on itsface.

As far as he knew, aspell could gain intelligenceonly from one of twoprocesses: “direction” and

“impression.”Authors creating

“direct” textual intelligencehad towrite clever prose.Atits simplest level, thisrequired strings ofinstructions: if this happens,thendo that; if that doesnothappen, then do this and soon. More complex methodsdirected constructs torecognizepatternsordevelopevolving webs of decision-makingsentences.

However, any “directly”intelligent spell fell short ofan “impressed” counterpart.Descended from an ancientspell that survived theExodus, “impression” usedtwoNuminousmatrices. Thefirstmatrixinhabitedalivingmind; the second, a spell’sexecutive language. Ifphysically close, animpressing matrix began tomimic the thought processesof a livingmind. In thisway

spellwrights could “impress”aspects of their ownintelligenceintotexts.

Shannon had givenAzure fluency in Numinousthroughimpression,andmostgargoyles and all ghostsrequired a living mind afterwhich to model theirthoughts.

What excited Shannonabout thegolemspellwas itsimplicit connection toimpression. To animate a

golem, a spellwright had toinvesthistextual“spirit”intoearthenbody.Toformaspiritspell,anauthorwouldhavetouse a radical form ofimpression that translated hismind into a text. Thatwouldleave the author’s body anempty husk until its spiritreturned.

So before investing hisspirit into a golem, aspellwright would have toplan for his spirit’s return to

his body.Therefore, a golemwould need an escapesubspell allowing a spirit toeject itself from a woundedgolem.

WhatShannonwantedtodo was write a linguisticattack that would hinder ordestroy a golem’s escapesubspell. If he could do that,he might slay the golem’sauthor without finding thefiend’slivingbody.

Shannonworkedwithan

excitementhehadnotknownfor a half century. Afterskimming the relevant texts,he had an idea of whatfunctions an escape subspellwould have to perform. Thatleft him the taskofdeducinghowatextmightfulfill thosefunctions and how an attackspell might interrupt thosesamefunctions.

In an hour, he had anoutline.

Writing the spellproved

more difficult. Heworked inNuminous and stored theearly drafts on older scrolls.The latter drafts he wroteonto his best parchment. Attimes his hands shook withexcitement and made itdifficulttoplacethelines.

After fourhours,hehadfinished a working draft. Atnearly eight thousandcharacters, it occupiedtwenty-four pages of hisresearch journal. His fingers

ached from gripping thesmooth runes. He set aboutputting in a few expositorynotes so that he wouldn’tforget how the trickierpassagesoperated.

“Shannon, you’re still alinguist,” he congratulatedhimself when the spell wasfinished. “But you’re gettingold.”He leaned back and lethimself feel the soreness inhis arms, the aching in hisknees.Theonlythingkeeping

him awake was theknowledgethat,ifhecasthisnew spell on the golem, itwould trap the author’s spritinsidetheclaybody.

Shannon sat back in hischair and listened to itsfamiliar wooden creaking.Justthenherealizedhehadtoget a copy of this spell toNicodemus immediately.Should he take it over to theDrum Tower now? It wasvital that the boy have the

spell.Buthowcouldhegetittohim?

Azuremadea low, two-notewhistle.Shannoncastaninquiring sentence toherandreceivedan instant reply:shehadheardsomethingunusual.

Shannon squinted at hisdoor.Noonewasspellwritingin the hallway, but fartheraway,inwhatmusthavebeena stairwell, shone a ten-foottrail of golden text. He hadseen such a thing before: it

was a train of a half dozenwizards, all casting flameflyspells to illuminate the darkstairs.

Something was wrong.Deadlywrong.

Shannon scooped upAzure and formed with herthe textual exchangethatallowed him to see throughhereyes.Backathisdesk,hestaredat thespellhehadjustwritten.

Hehadtogetthetextto

Nicodemus; the boy’s lifedepended on it. Even morefrightening, Nicodemus’sconnectiontoprophecymeantthat his survival might beessential for the fight againsttheDisjunctionandhenceforthe preservation of humanlanguage.

“Hakeem, help me!” hewhispered.

Glancingup,he saw thetrain of flamefly spells beginto wink out as their casters

camecloser.He looked back at his

spell. It was too long forAzure to carry in her body.And he didn’t have time totransferittoascrollandhaveAzure to fly it over. Heneeded something that wasalreadywritten.

After scanning his desk,hisblindeyesfellonfamiliarNuminous paragraphs. Azureprovidedamundaneimageofthe manuscript: it was the

scrollthathad,justadayanda half ago, granted himpermission to begin researchontheIndex.

Hushed voices soundedinthehallway.

With shaking hands,Shannon found an inkhornand a serviceable quill. Herarely wrote mundane lettersand he did not trust hisexhausted fingers to produceanything legible now. So hedipped the quill’s feathered

endininkandusedittopaintawide, sticky stripeover themundane writing which hadgranted permission for hisresearch.

Quickly he forged theNuminous paragraphs thatwould lift the ban on theDrum Tower’s door. Heslappedtheseontotheheadofthe scroll along with acommonlanguagenotewhichwhen translated would read“keyforwards.”

Knockingsoundedatthedoor. “Magister Shannon,”Amadi’svoicecalled.

“A moment!” Shannonreplied. He had to writesomething more toNicodemus about the otherpassages—hadtodoitbeforethe sentinels could interfere.Amadi would never allowNicodemus to have such apowerfultext.

“Shannon,” Amadicalled, “you must open this

door!”Shannon went blank

with fear. How could he letNicodemus know what hewasthinking?

Suddenly his mindleaped forwardwith thought.He forgeda fewphrases thatwhen translated would read“Research ***” and slappedit at the top of the scroll.Then he forged what wouldtranslate into the singleword“Dogfood,” copied it once,

and then thumbed one wordabove thefirstparagraphandtheotherabovethesecond.

A wall of silvery textshownfrom theother sideofthe door; doubtless thesentinels were preparing toknockitdown.

Shannon rolled up thescroll and bound it with aMagnus sentence. “ToNicodemus,” he whispered,binding theMagnus sentencetoAzure’sfoot.“Andbeware

of the sentinels guarding theDrum Tower.” He repeatedthese instructions inNuminous.

Behind him came acrash as a spell ripped hisdoorfromitshinges.

He leaped forward andpunched the wooden screenoutofhiswindow.

“Magister!” Amadicalled.“Donotmove!”

Azure made her hightwo-note whistle and with a

clatter of wings flew out thewindow.

SHANNON LET OUT a long,relievedbreath.Amadibeganshouting and rough handsgrabbed his shoulders andturnedhimaround.Theroomwas ablaze with censoringtexts. There must have beensevensentinelsintheroom.

“Amadi,”hesaidcoolly,“I hope you can justify thisbreachoflawandcustom.”

“Magister,” she repliedfrom somewhere to his left,“I’mafraidIcan.”

He looked in herdirection.“Andhowisthat?”

She told him about thebookworm infection and theprivate library filled withincriminating manuscripts.She then explained about awounded construct that hadbeen trying to return to hisquarters.

“You think I would be

foolish enough to write acursethatwouldreturntomyown quarters?” he askedincredulously.

A different voiceresponded. It took amomentforShannontorecognizeitasKale’s. “The chances of thebookwormbeingwounded injust that way—losing itsabilitytosubtextualizeanditshoming protocol—are veryslight.Youcouldhavesafelyassumedyouwouldneverbe

identified. But unfortunately,Magister, chance conspiredagainstyou.”

Shannon snorted. “Orthetruevillainhasfooledyouinto accusing me of hiscrimes.”

Amadi responded dryly.“We’ve searched yourquarters more thoroughlythan before. We swept theroomforsubtexts.”

Kalespoke.“Wefoundasubtextualized chest strapped

to your ceiling. It holds afortuneinSpirishgold.”

For a moment Shannoncouldnotunderstandwhathewas hearing. How could thegolemhavegotten thatmuchcoinintohisroom?Thethingcouldn’t spellwrite withinStarhaven’swalls.

“So who was it,Magister?” Kale asked.“What Spirish noble waspaying you to disrupt thisconvocationandwhy?”

“Amadi, you’re makinga grave error,” Shannon saidhoarsely.

His former student let amomentpassbeforereplying.“Did you know that NoraFinn was also taking bribesfromaSpirishnoble?”

Henodded. “I readof itinherjournal.”

“Why did you not tellme?”Amadiasked.

Shannon scowled.“Because I was more

concerned with convincingyou of the true villain’sexistence.”

Amadi let another silentmoment pass. “Or perhapsyouweregladtobefreeofacompeting spy. Tell me,Magister,howdidtheSpirishgold come to be in yourquarters?”

“Itwasputthere.”“By your clay monster?

Impossible. As I told you: Ihad a sentinelwatching your

quarters.What’smore,allthedoors and windows werewardedandthenprotectedbyrobust, bisecting texts. Evenifyourmonsterdidsneakpastmy guards, the thing wouldhave been cut in half at thewaist. It would have had tohide the chest and escapewithhalfabody.”

Shannon’s blind eyeswidened.Aclaygolemcoulddo just such a thing.“Amadi!” he blurted. “The

thing must have done itsspellwriting in the BolideGarden and then usedprewritten texts to sneak inandhidethechest.Searchthesurroundingarea.Somewhereyou’llfindadepositofclay.”

“Magister,” Amadi saidin a low tone, “the BolideGardensarebeing renovated.Do you want me to slopthrough all that mud for alumpofclaythatlookslikeamonster?”

Shannon took a deepbreath. The monster hadplanned well. After plantingthe research journal in hisquarters, itmusthave thrownitself down into the garden.There the golem could havedeconstructed amid the dirtpiles.

But Shannon couldn’tconvince Amadi of that. Nothereatleast.“SoyoususpectI’maspy,”hesaid,changingtactics.“DoyoualsobelieveI

killedEricandAdan,myownstudents?”

The room grew quiet.“Some remember howvicious a politician youwerebackinAstrophell;morethanone voice has suggested that—”

“That I murdered myown students to disrupt thisconvocation?” Shannongrowled.“ThatIsoldmysoulto some illiterate lord?Amadi, I have never heard

such a foul suggestion. AndI’ll swear under any poweryoulikethatI—”

“The witch trial hasn’tbegun yet,” her cold voiceinterrupted.“Donothingrash.Inthisroomstandseveryfreesentinelundermycommand.”

Shannon began torespond but then stopped.“You mean, every sentinelbut those you sent to guardthe Drum Tower andNicodemus?”

“Still trying to convinceme that the clayman is afteryour cacographers?” Amadiasked. “I think you’d betterhold your tongue, Magister.We have wards on thetower’s doors and windows.No one’s getting to acacographer tonight.Besides,I couldn’t spare thespellwrights to guard theplace ifmy life depended onit. The libraries need everyfree author to contain the

bookworm infection. Unlessofcourse,youcantellushowtoeradicatetheinfestation?”

“I have nothing to dowith the bookworms!”Shannon exclaimed. “Youcan’t leave the Drum Towerdefenseless!”

Noonereplied.Shannon was breathing

hard. “Amadi, listen to me!When researching the Indextoday,Ilearnedofanancientconstruct called a golem

which is made of clay butcontainsitsauthor’smind—”

“Magister, some of ushere will help decide yourwitch trial,” Kale said. “Itwouldhelpyourcauseifyourefrained from sayinganythingfoolish.”

Shannon realized thatthere would be no reasoningwith the sentinels.He leapedfor his bookcase, hoping toreachastunspellhekeptinahiddenscroll.

But before he had takentwo steps, a wave ofcensoring language flashedtoward him. Netlike textswrappedaroundhismind.

The world seemed tospin and then the lines ofglowing text disappeared.Everythingwentblack.

CHAPTERTwenty-sixA low, grating screech joltedNicodemusawake.Sweathadsoaked through his robes.“Who’s there?”He struggledout of bed. His candle hadburnttoadarkstub.

The screech came againalong with the flapping ofwings. A golden flash madehim look at the window.“Azure!” he exclaimed,pullingoutthepaperscreen.

The parrot flew into hischest. Squawking withsurprise, man and birdtumbledontothesleepingcot.“Shannon! Shannon!” Azurecalled in a terrified, pitifulvoice.“Shannon!”

The familiar was

standingonhis stomach.Hertiny chest heaved; her headbobbed. A small scroll wasboundtoherlegbyaMagnussentence. “It’s all right,”Nicodemuscooed,pullingthescrollfree.

Azure scrambled ontohisshoulder,andhesatuptoread the scroll. His browsknitted in confusion. “Azure,thismakes no sense. There’sakeyforthefrontdoorward.Magister said he’d send that.

But there’s ink all over themundanetextandtheseotherNuminous paragraphs aregibberish.”

He translated thecommon language wordsabove the gibberish:“Research ***” and“Dogfood.”

“Shannon!” the birdcalled and cast a Numinoussentence into Nicodemus’shead.

Shannon, having

impressed his linguisticabilities into the bird, couldhave made perfect sense ofthis sentence. ButNicodemus’s translationyielded “My-old-home-onesateShannon!”

Nicodemus’s palmsbegan to sweat. Azure hadhatched in Trillinon. Thosefromher“oldhome”mustbeNortherners.

Nicodemus went to thewindow and peered down

into the Stone Court. Thesentinels who had beenguardingitsdoorweregone.

“Ate” to Azure meantconsumed, enveloped. TheNorthern sentinelsmust haveseized Shannon. “DemigodsoftheCelestialCanondefendus!”Nicodemuswhispered.

Azure leaped from hisshoulderandflapped into thenight. No doubt she wasgoing in search ofwhere thesentinels were holding

Shannon.Nicodemus turned back

to his room and shivered ashe remembered his mostrecent nightmare. “Fly fromStarhaven!” April had said.“Flyanddon’tlookback!”

He took a cleanapprentice robe over to thefireplace’s clicking embers.With trembling fingers, hechanged out of his sweat-soaked night robe andthoughtaboutthenightmare.

Like the others, thisdream had made little sense.Thecavernandthebody, theepisodes from his childhood,April’s warning—none of itseemedtofittogether.

However, unlike theothers, this nightmareprovided a clear warning:“The white beast has yourshadow!”Aprilhadsaid.

No doubt the “whitebeast” was the pale monsterNicodemus had seen

attacking Eric. That monstermust have been themurderer’s golem.Therefore,it would make sense if theshrouded body in the cavernwastheirenemy’strue,livingbody.

But that still left thequestion of the cavern’slocation.

Nicodemus thought ofthe nightmare turtles he hadseen in his first cavernnightmare. Then he thought

about the hexagonal patterncarved at the end of theSpindle Bridge. The hiddenbody had to have somethingto do with the Spindle. Butwhat? Shannon’s texts hadfoundnothingbutrockinthemountain.

And who might besendinghimthedreams?Notthe murderer: all evidenceindicated the fiend did notknow Nicodemus’s identity,andevenifhedid,thevillain

wouldn’t want to reveal anyhintofhisbody’slocation.

Butthenagain,Shannonhadsaidthenightmarescamefrom special spells thatancient authors knew how towrite. Who else besides thegolem-wieldingmurdererhadknowledgeofancienttexts?

Perhapstherewasacluein the dream? April’s voicehad spoken directly to him.Noonehadspokentohiminpreviousdreams.

The wound onNicodemus’s cheek throbbedagain as he rememberedApril’s warning: “The whitebeastwillfindyouunlessyouflyfromStarhaven!”

Normally such anindication of danger wouldhave sent him running toShannon, but now the oldmanwaslockedup.

Nicodemus noticed thatthe scroll Azure had broughthad fallen to the floor. He

picked it up. “Dogfood,”Shannon had written aboveeach paragraph—and at thetop:“Research***.”

Hadtheoldmannothadtime to tell him what toresearch? Had he meant tocome back and edit thephrase? Perhaps Nicodemuswas supposed to researchthree stars. Or somethingabout Starhaven? But wherecould Nicodemus researchanything?

He began to pace. Hetried to breathe on his handsbut accidentally brushed theMagnusstitchesonhischeek.Painlancedintohisskullandbrought with it a suddenmemory of his nightmare:“Fly and don’t look back!”April had warned him.“Neverlookback!”

Nicodemuslookedatthedoor. He should run, hethought, taking a stepforward.But thenherealized

that even if he ran, themurderer would continuekillingmalecacographers.Heturned back to the fire. Hehadtostay.

But he couldn’t ignorethe dreams. He looked backatthedoor.Perhapsheshouldtake the other malecacographers up to thecompluvium?But ifShannonhadwantedhimtodothat,hewould have said so on thescroll.

AgainNicodemusraisedhishandstobreatheonthem,and again he brushed thewoundonhischeek.

“Fiery blasted blood!”he swore out loud, the painigniting his frustration andanger. “Iwas supposed tobetheHalcyon! Iwas supposedto be sure and decisive.Andnow I’m afraid to doanything!”

He sat before the fireandheldhishandstowardthe

coals.He must have been

cursed. He wasn’t supposedto be like this. The golem’sauthor must have stolen hisstrength and his ability tospell.

But if that were true, itwould mean that he couldrestore his ability to spell. Itwouldmeanhecouldendhiscacography.

Nicodemus focused allofhisattentiononthehopeof

completinghimself.Hefeditallofhisfearanduncertainty.Hisdesiregrewandbegantoradiateheat.Hewasn’tgoingtopaceabout likeaditheringboy. The monster had stolenpart of his mind. Hatredblazedwithinhim.Hewouldget the missing part ofhimselfback!

Hestoodupanddecidedthat he would take the malecacographers up to thecompluvium; from there he

could plan his next move.PerhapshewouldseektofreeShannon. Perhaps he wouldfind a way to strike backagainstthegolem.

Again the most recentnightmare returned to him.“The white beast will findyou unless you fly fromStarhaven,” April had said.“Fly with anything youhave!”

Inaway,hewasfleeingoutofStarhavenpropertothe

compluvium.Thedreammusthavepredicted this.Butwhatto takewith him?He lookedaround at his cot, his robes,his books, his endless pagesofspellingdrills.Whatwouldhelpprotecttheboysorharmthe golem? His eyes fell onShannon’sopenscrollanditsradiantNuminousparagraphs.

Abruptly, he realized hecouldn’t take the boys to thecompluvium.

Notyet.

The meaning ofShannon’s words wassuddenly clear. The old manwasa linguist after all, andlinguistsstudiedallaspectsoflanguage…evenmetaphor.

Dogfood.

LEAVING THE DRUM Towerproved simple. Shannon’skey disspelled the ward onthedoorand,ofcourse,therewere no guards in the StoneCourt.

Nicodemus worriedabout being stopped in thehallways. But as he hurriedthrough the stronghold, hefound it mostly empty.Occasionally he spottedteams of wizards rushingthroughahallwayasifonanurgent errand. Oddly, theywereusuallyledbylibrarians.

At the Main Library’sentrance,Nicodemus reachedinto Shannon’s scroll andpulled out the passwords.

Careful not to hold the texttoo long, he tossed theparagraphtoaguardianspell.

Theconstructsnapped itout of the air and glared atNicodemus. The canine spellwould tear his arms off if itdiscovered a misspelled runesequence. A long momentpassed as it chewed thewords.Nicodemuswasabouttoturnandrunwhenthespellstretchedintoadogbow.

Filled with dread,

Nicodemus stole into thelibrary. Without sunlightstreaming through thewindows,theplacewasdark.Rowsoftapersproduceddimglobes of shifting light thatstretcheduptotheceilinglikeanascendingcolumnofstars.

Nicodemus found theplace unnervingly empty.Hehadexpectedat leastadozenwizards to be working bycandlelight. But instead hesaw only a handful of

librarians rushing off tounknowntasks.

Finding the Index’schamber was easy enough.And the guardian standingwatchbefore thechamber lethim pass when he fed herShannon’ssecondparagraph.

As he approached theIndex, his hands began toshake. Back in his room hehad been so sure—use theIndex to discover Shannon’smessage, then sneak it away

to the compluviumwhere hecoulduseittoresearchspellsthatmightharmthegolem.

But now Nicodemusnoticed faint Numinoussentencesrunningthroughthechamber’sdoorframethathehadn’t seen before. Theycouldonlybethesentencesofanalarmspell.RemovingtheIndex would trip that spelland summon swarms ofsentinels.

He could not steal the

Index, but he could stilldiscover why Shannon hadsenthimthere.

With nervous steps, hecrept into the chamber andstared at the Index’s blankcover.Fromoutsidecamethegrinding vibration of theguardianshiftingherMagnusball. After cradling the bookinhis arm,Nicodemusundidtheclasp.

MagisterSmallwoodhadsaid that the Index could

search the text of any codexwithin Starhaven’s walls.And Magister Shannon’spersonal research journalhadthree asterisks embossed onits spine and face, therebymaking“***”itstitle.

Nicodemus opened theIndex with the intention ofdiscovering what Shannonhad written for him in hisresearchjournal.

Warmth bloomed acrosshis cheeks as his body

synaestheticallyreactedtotheIndex’s magic. He hadexpected some synaesthesia,but the strength of thisreaction was unsettling. Hadsomething gone wrong? Hetriedtoshifthisweight.

But he couldn’t. Hismuscles would not respond.Panic thrilled up his body asherememberedthenightmareof only hours ago. Was hestilldreaming?

The synaesthetic heat in

his cheeks burned scaldinghotevenasamoredisturbingwarmth flushed across hisstomach and groin.He knewthat this—his secondsynaesthetic reaction—indicated the presence of adangerouslypowerful foreignspell.Hisfearbecamepanic.

Without warning, violetribbonsof lighterupted fromthe Index and wriggled intohis hands.A surge of nauseaturned his stomach and he

convulsedinadryheave.The Index blazed

brighter, and Nicodemuscould only watch, paralyzedas an incandescent cylinderemerged from the page. Hislegsbuckledandhefelltohisknees. The spell lunged intohisthroat.

The room blurred and astrange roaring soundthrobbed in his ears. Bloodflowed down his nose andfilled his mouth.

Involuntarily, he turned andvomited.

Withouthiswillingthemto,Nicodemus’s arms placedthe Index back on itsmarblepodium.

The instant the book’sspine touched cool stone, itscontrol over him vanishedand he collapsed intodarkness.

WHENNICODEMUSopenedhiseyes,adullpainwasstriking

theoppositeendsofhisskullthe way a clapper rings theinside of a bell. The worldwas spinning, and the sourtaste of vomit curdled in hismouth.

Buthefeltlikelaughing.The bold arches and

thick linesof anewalphabetburnedbeforehiseyeswithasoftandotherworldlybeauty.LikeNuminous,thispowerfulviolet language affected lightandothertext.

Afterwiping hismouth,Nicodemus staggered to hisfeet and discovered amyriadof purple sentences floatingin slow concentric circlesaround the Index. Moreastonishing, aminiature riverof the text flowed from thebook into his chest and thenback.

Slowly he realizedwhatthis meant: the Index was atome, a magical artifactcapableofteachingitsreader

a new language. But it haddone so in a shocking andmysteriousway.

When Nicodemus wassixteen he had used theNuminousandMagnustomesto learn the wizardlylanguages. That had been aslow process, involving daysof memorizing runes,vocabulary, and grammar.Hisabilitytoseethewizardlylanguageshaddevelopedatatedious pace. It had been

anything but exciting ortraumatic.

The Index, on the otherhand, had quite literallyjammed a new languagedownhisthroat.

Whenhewonderedhowthis was possible, the runesemerging from his chestswelled in number andflowed into the Index. Inresponse, the book flipped afew leaves to present a pageworked in black ink.

Nicodemus stepped closer toread:

From A Treatis on LostSpells & Langeuges, byGeoffreyLeaThe spell of etching iswidely regarded as themostmysteriousofthelostgodspells. Little is knownabout this ancent textexcept that it was writtenby the primortial sun godSol. Aparently, a diety

woulduse etching to binda conscious being, notnecessarilyahuman,asanavatar. There is allsomention of the spell’sability to “impress” alangeuge upon its targetthrough direct mentalcontact. The Neosolarpantheonregardedetchingas tabboo. The greatgoddess Solmay forbidany diety who pratcicedthis spell to travel across

theocean toour land.Wecan only assume that, atthetimeoftheExodus,thespell of soulsplitting wasalready available as analternative method forbindingavatars.

Because soulsplittingistheonlygodspellknownto requre the consentualparticipation of its target,many speculate thatetchingcouldbecastuponan unwilling subject.

However…

Nicodemus’s mouth workedsilently. Somehow, he hadconducted a search formundane text withouttouching the Index. Heinspectedthepageagain.

The words implied thatthebookhadusedagodspellto teach him this newlanguage. But that wasimpossible; only a livingbeingcouldwritemagic, and

only a deity could cast agodspell.

Nicodemus reread thepassage tomake sure he hadnot misunderstood. The textwas the same, but this timesomething about the wordsbotheredhim.Hereadagain.

There was somethingstrange about the words“ancent,” “langeuge,” and“conscious.”He studiedeachone, trying to decide what itwasthatcaughthiseye.

Ahorribleideafilledhismind.

“No!” he whispered, awild fear tearing loose in hisgut. “No! I didn’t!” Hestaggeredcloser so that therecould be no mistake. “Godsofgrace,no!”

Butthereitwas.Los himself could not

have inspired a moreexcruciating fear than thatwhichnowpossessedhim.Heknew there should be an “i”

somewhere in the word“ancent.” And “langeuge”should end in “-age.” As for“conscious,” only a foolwould fail to put a “huss”after the “s”—conshuss. Ormaybe it was “cawnshuss,”but definitely not“conscious”—that wasabsurd.

There was only oneexplanation: contact with hiscacographic mind had filledtheIndexwithmisspellings.

It didn’t matter,Nicodemus told himself,pressing a hand to his chest.He had intended to steal theartifactanyway.

But the fear building inhis mind would not beignored. Stealing an artifactwas a serious crime, andwizards despised nothingmorethanthedestructionofamagical artifact. If theydiscovered him now, theywould permanently censor

magical literacy from hismind.Worse, theirhatredforhim and for all cacographerswould multiply ahundredfold. He wouldbecome the most infamousmisspeller since James Berrhad killed those wizards solongago.

“Calm yourself,”Nicodemus said slowly.Perhaps only this documentwasmisspelled.Itwaswrittennearly four hundred years

ago. Maybe the spellingsweredifferentthen.

Intending to findMagister Shannon’s mostrecent treatise on spellintelligence, Nicodemusreached out and turned apage. With deep trepidation,heread:

From Concatenation’sEffects on SecondaryCognition in Semi-Atonomous Nonsense &

Antisense NuminousDisspells, by AgwuShannon.

Resent spellinteligence research hasfocusedonthenessesityofimbuing an aspect of thecaster’sconsciousness…

As he read the last word,Nicodemus groaned and shuthis eyes.Howcould this be?Maybe, he thought, maybethemagical textshadn’tbeen

affected.Maybe contactwithhismindhadonlymisspelledthemundanetexts.

Nicodemus pressed hispalmtothepageandthoughtof a spell called “touch.”Hechose touch because itpossessed such a simple,straightfor-ward runesequence that he would beable to tell if the versioncontained within the Indexwasmisspelled.

Just as a fisherman’s

hook yanks an unsuspectingtrout fromtheriver,theIndexplucked Nicodemus’s mindfrom the wetness within hisskullandsentitsailingintoavastandairyspace.

Ittookamomentforhimto perceive his newsurroundings. HereNicodemus had no eyes, nobody. There was no up, nodown. Everything wasdarkness.

Nicodemus’s surprise

turned to fear.Theblacknessbecameheavyand thick, likehumid air. He struggled tofreehimselfbutcouldnot.Hewanted to screambuthadnolungs; he wanted to run buthadnolegs.

Atlastheforcedhimselfto relax. Slowly, his mindopened to the strange newworld.Tinyglimmersmovedall around him. They grewbrighter and became glowinggems that hung as if

suspendedfrominvisible treelimbs.

His vision becamesharper and suddenly it wasas if he were floating in thenight sky. The luminescentorbs had become stars ofdifferent shapes and colors.Some blazed with fierceemerald radiation; othersglowed indigo or ivory sodimly that they disappearedwhen he looked directly atthem.

At last he realized thatthis black firmamentwas theworldwithin the Index.Nowhebecameawareofhisbody,swaying somewhere farbelow on the floor. Therealizationbroughtonawaveofvertigoandtwistedhisfaceintoagrimace.

Back inside the Index,stars of silver and goldappeared. Nicodemus’sperceptionofthebook’snightsky was rapidly improving;

withinmomentshecouldseefor untold miles. The starryarray stretched endlesslyaway.

Suddenly he realizedwhat he was looking at.These were not stars, butspells. His vision confirmedit.HewasstaringthroughtheIndexat every text containedwithinStarhaven.

He must be thinkingthroughthespellsattachedtothe Index; he was having

quaternary thoughts. Itwas aglorious, dreamlike feeling.But his elation faded as heremembered why he hadentered the Index in the firstplace.

He needed to find thetouchspell.

A white star flashedbrighter and began to speedtoward him like a comet.Aninstantlater,thespellcrashedinto him with a soundlessexplosion.

Removinghishandfromthe IndexmadeNicodemus’smind drop like a lightningbolt back into his head. Heblinked. Returning to thebony confines of his skullwas intensely uncomfortable.Heshookhisheadandfelthisideas slosh around likeseaweed.

“Oh…yuck!”hesaid.Gradually his mind

molded itself to his skull.And he found that he could

thinkclearlyagain.Anewknowledgeofthe

simple touch spell was nowinside of him. The spell’sprimary sequence burnedbeforehiseyesasclearlyasifhe had just written it out athousand times. But some oftheruneswereoutoforder—he knew because touch wasone of the few spells simpleenough that he hadmemorized its properspelling.

Now he was sure:contact with his mind hadmisspelledoneoftheOrder’smostprizedartifacts.

Nicodemusputhishandsto his face. “No…no…” hewhimpered. Shame and guiltthrobbedbehindhiseyes.Hewould forever be known asthe cacographer who haddestroyed Starhaven’s mostvaluableartifact.

“Wait!” he sputtered.“Wait.” There was one last

hope. Perhaps if he couldrepair his disabled mind, hecouldrepairtheIndex.“Showme,” he ordered the Index,“any mundane documentsrelating to curingcacography.”

As the book beganflipping pages, Nicodemuslooked up and muttered aprayer toHakeem.When theIndexstopped,hetookadeepbreath and looked down,readytoread.

Butthepagewasblank.

BREATH SPILLED OUT ofNicodemus. His cacographyhad destroyed the Index.Maybehe’dvomitagain.

“I had better be theHalcyon,” he mumbled tohimselfwhilepressingahandtohisbelly.Ifhewasn’t,he’dnever forgive himself fordestroying such a beautifulartifact.

His hands began to

tremble.“Los damn it!” he

growled. “I will not be likethis.” He closed his eyes. “Iwon’t be weak. I won’t becrippled.”

He had to regain hisdetermination to defeat thegolem and erase hiscacography.Hecoulddoit,ifhe was bold enough,disciplined enough. Therewasnotimeforfearorguilt.

He glared at the Index

and cleared his mind ofeverything but the threeasterisks of Shannon’sresearch journal. Then heplacedhispalmon theblankpagebeforehim.

His mind shot upwardlike an arrow into anotherplane.Butratherthanastarrynightsky,hefloatedbeforeamassive golden wall thatstretchedoutalmostendlesslyin either direction. The wallitselfwasmadeofShannon’s

Numinousprose.Nicodemus found

himself staring at thejournal’s first page, datedmorethantwentyyearsago.

Simply by thinking of alater entry, Nicodemus sentthe wall sliding to his left.Looking at the wall’s distantend,hesawthatthetextbentbacktoformamassivecircle.

The codex-as-ring spunpast in a golden blur. Then,without warning, it slammed

toadizzying,soundlessstop.Shannon’s last entry

glowed before him. It was along Numinous spellannotated by commonlanguage sentences thatglowedgreen.

Nicodemus frowned,trying to glean the text’spurpose.Theproseseemedtobe that of a disspell, but itwas not of the typicalnonsense or antisensevarieties. Its structure was

thatofaclamp.That made no sense.

Normally disspells sought topull apart another spell’sargument. This disspelllooked as if it would try toholdtheothertexttogether.

Nicodemusturnedtotheannotations. As he read, asmile spread across his face.“Magister,” he whispered.“It’sbrilliant!”

It was not a disspell atall, but an attack spell

adaptedtoholdmagicalproseinside of a golem. IfNicodemus cast this text onthegolem,itsspiritwouldbetrapped.Theauthorwouldbevulnerable.

Abruptly Shannon’sspell rushed forward tocrashinto Nicodemus’s mind. Therush of golden prose dazzledhiseyesandthenfadedawaytorevealthephysicalworld.

Once again Nicodemusstood swaying before the

Index.A vivid knowledge of

the anti-golem spell nowburned in his brain. Shannonwantedhimtohavethiswhenhe took the boys up to thecompluvium, Nicodemusrealized. With this spell hecould endanger the golem’sauthorwithouthavingtofinditstruebody.

A shiver rushed upNicodemus’s back. Heneeded to return to theDrum

Tower.The Index lay before

him. Closing the book madethe halo of purple sentencescollapse back into its pages.Afteralongbreath,heturnedawayandstartedforthedoor.

“Don’t you want thebook?” a quick, squeakingvoicesaid.

Nicodemus jumpedback. “Who’s there?” Hebegan to write a club ofsimple Magnus sentences in

hisbiceps.From thecorner stepped

alankygargoylewithasnowmonkey’s body, a bat’s giantears, and an owl’s bulgingeyes. Nicodemus recognizedthe construct he hadmisspelled in the Stacks.“Gargoyle, did I meet youlastnight?”

“Petra,” she said,nodding vigorously. “NowI’m named Petra.” Shegrinned at him before

scampering to the doorway.“Take the book. Youmisspelleditlikeme.”

“Butthealarmspellwill—”

“Alarm spell nothing.”The gargoyle peeled a chordof faint Numinous sentencesfromonesideofthedoorway.“Get the book and stepunderthis.” She pulled thealarm spell free of the floorandhelditupaboveherhead.

Nicodemus stared at her

for a moment, then fetchedthe Index. “But not even agrand wizard could movethose sentences,” he saidwhile ducking under thealarm.

She nodded and spokerapidly. “Since you rewroteme, I can do things otherconstructs can’t. I can tradeand bargain. I got these eyesfrom a night-watch gargoyle,the ears from a grunt whohuntsmice.ButI thinkIstill

only have secondarythoughts.” She looked up athim with childish curiosity.“What’s the differencebetween secondary andtertiarycognition?”

He grimaced.“Secondary constructs can’tremember anything aboutmortality. The academyclaims they’re not fullysentient, so it’s not immoraltodeconstructthem.”

The gargoyle started.

One of her batlike earsflicked away and then back.“Mortality?”

Nicodemusnodded. “Asin death. Secondaryconstructs can’t rememberwhatitmeanstodie.”

“But I think I still onlyhave secondary thoughts.What is the differencebetween secondary andtertiary cognition?” Her tonewasthesametoneasbefore.

Nicodemus hugged the

Indextohischest.“I’msorry,Petra. I don’t know how totellyou.”

The gargoyle didn’tseemtobelistening;herearswere flicking about indifferent directions. “Youshouldgo!”shewhispered.“Isee and hear many thingsnow. There are corruptgargoylesnow.Weconstructsarealltalkingaboutthem.Noone knows who’s writtenthem. They’re spying on the

wizards.”Nicodemus swallowed.

“Whataboutthegargoylesinthecompluvium?”

“They’re uncorrupted,”she said. “You should leavethis place now. Somethingbadisnear.”

“Thank you, Petra,” hesaidandturnedaway.

She laughed and calledafter him, “Thank you,Nicodemus Weal. You aremyauthorwhomadememy

ownauthor.”Unsure of what to say,

Nicodemus hurried awaythough the library’scavernouscenter.Athousandthoughts raced through hismind. But when he steppedthrough the main entranceinto the Women’s Atrium arealizationmadehimstop.

“Losdamnit!”heswore.Because the Index wasmisspelled, so might be hisunderstanding of Shannon’s

text. There was no telling ifhecouldproduceafunctionalrespell. Fear tightened histhroat. Writing this attackspell might even bedangerous.

He started to curse hiscacography but then thoughtofPetra thegargoyle. It tookhimamomenttoidentifythewarm feeling in his chest aspride—he hadn’t felt that foralongtime.

Hedrewinadeepbreath

andlookedupattheatrium’sceiling. The mosaic of UrielBolide looked back at him.With her left hand, Bolidewaspointinga redwandatascroll she held in her right.Chipsofamberhadbeenusedto depict her celebrated longhair.

Her smile was amused,as if she had just discoveredthe properties of magicaladvantagebyapplyingalittlefemininity to a problem that

had confounded the then all-malewizards.

Nicodemus was struckby how strongly the womanin the mosaic resembledApril. In the nightmare,April’s image had stretchedabove him and her hair hadbecome trains of stars. “Flyfrom Starhaven!” she hadsaid. “Fly with anything youhave!”

Again NicodemushuggedtheIndextohischest.

Itwasallhehad.Hisstepsquickeneduntil

he was sprinting across theStone Court. In a few hourssomeone would notice themissing Index. Before thathappened, he had to hide allof the male cacographers inthecompluvium.

CHAPTERTwenty-sevenOn his way up the stairwell,Nicodemus found the DrumTower silent. He burst intothe common room. A chairtried to bite his hip and wasknocked flat for its trouble.

“John!” he called. “John,wakeup!Weneedtoleave.”

He rushed into hischamber and threw open thechest at the foot of his bed.With focused urgency, hepulled his winter cloakaroundhisshouldersandthenspreadablanketonthefloor.OntopofitheputtheIndex,the coin purse Shannon hadgiven him, and a few spareclothes.

Hisbelt-purselayonthe

footofhissleepingcot.Whenhe grabbed it, his fingersbegan to tingle. He frownedat first but then rememberedthe druidic artifact—thewoodensphereencircledbyaroot—that Deirdre had givenhim.

TheSeedofFinding.Heput thedruidicartifactontheblanket.Hemightneedthat.

After scooping up theblanket and twisting it into amakeshiftsatchel,heraninto

thecommonroom.“Simple John?” Simple

Johnaskedfromhisdoorway.The big man’s candle filledtheroomwithflickeringlightandlongshadows.

“Everything’s all right,John,”Nicodemus said. “ButIneedyourhelpgatheringallour boys. Has Devin comeback from her night-timejanitorial?”

“No,” the bigman said,eyeswide.“No!”

“John, look at me.Somethingbadhashappened.You and I must take all theDrum Tower boys up to thecompluvium. We’ll be safethere. And if we’re not,there’s a way we can leaveStarhavenaltogether.”

Theothermanshookhishead.“No!”

Nicodemus cursedhimself.“John,Ididn’tmeanto upset you. Everything’sgoingtobefine.Butwemust

goquickly.Getanythingyoumightneedoutofyourroom.Warm clothes especially.”Nicodemus moved for thedoor.“I’llwaketheboys.”

John stepped in front ofhim.“No!”heagaindeclared,his bulky frame blocking thedoor.

“John, we have to dothis. It’s not safe to stay.”John shook his head.WhenNicodemustriedtomovepasthim, John pushed him back

with enough force to makehimstumble.

“John, listen to me!”Nicodemussaid,settingdownhis makeshift satchel. “Wemustgettheboystosafety.”

This set the big man’sheadshakingagain.

Nicodemus began towrite common languagesentences along each of hisfingers. Against a normalspellwright, Nicodemus’sdisability would have

rendered him helpless. Butnow, facing anothercacographer, he could usesentences simple enough forhim to avoid misspelling.SimpleJohnwouldn’tbeabletoeditordisspellthem.

“I’m sorry I have to dothis,” he said, flicking hishands open and castingglowing white sentences towraparoundJohn’sarmsandlegs.

The big man’s candle

fell to the floor and winkedout. Fortunately, the whiteglow from Nicodemus’sspells and the moonlightpouringthroughthewindowsprovidedsufficientlight.

Inanattempt toedit thespells bindinghis arms, Johncastagreensentencefromhischin. Nicodemus caught anddestroyed it with a disspell.John tried twice more,spitting out the spells likeangrywords.Evenso,hewas

too slow. Nicodemuscensoredeachsentencewithafinger-flickeddisspell.

Seeming to realize thathe could not compete withNicodemus magically, Johnbegan to flex his massivearms. Two of the bindingspells snapped. But even asthebigmanbrokeathirdline,Nicodemus sent ten moreglowing-whitesentences,andthentenmore.

John made one last,

heroic tug, which made himstart to fall over. Nicodemusrushed over and grabbed thebigman’s arm in time to sethimdowngently.

John stopped struggling.Hewasboundas surelyas ifhewereinchains.

“I’m sorry to do this,John,” Nicodemus said. “I’lluntie you when you’recalmer. But you mustunderstand that we are indanger. Unless we take the

DrumTowerboysaway,theymaybehurt.”

John was desperatelyshakinghishead.

“I’m going to wake theboys now,” Nicodemus said.“I’llcomeback,andwe’llgetyou ready to go too. Allright?” He moved for thedoor.

Simple John made asound then, a faint rumbling,asifabeehivewerehummingin his expansive chest.

“Nnnn…no…nnn,” hegrowled. “Nnnn…nnn…Nicono.”

“John, you saidsomethingdifferent!”

“Nnnnn…Nnnnico notgo.”

Nicodemus shook hishead. “I need to step outquickly. I’ll be right back.Don’tworry.”

John flinched. “Sstsss…strangemantellsSimpleJohnnotletNicogo.”

Nicodemus frowned.“Haveyoubeentalkingtotheforeignspellwrights?”

“No! Long beforeSimple John comes to…comes to here, Typhon tellsSimple John not to let Nicogo.”

“Typhon?” Nicodemusasked. “Do you meantyphoon? A storm talked toyou?”

Johnhadtoworkhislipsto speak. “Typhon…

Typhoneus, red hair, shinyblackskin…old,old,old.”

NicodemusstudiedJohn.“I don’t know what you’retalking about, and I don’tknow how it is you can sayallthesedifferentthingsnow.ButJohn,wemusthurry!”

Tears ran down the bigman’sfaceandcaughtonhisthroat’s stubble. “Yes!” hesuddenly said. “I will help.But I need…need to get thebigparchments.”

“If I release you, you’llgatheryourbelongingssowecan go? You won’t keepmefromwakingtheboys?”

“Won’t,” John said,“blockdoor.”

Satisfied, Nicodemuspulled his spells into hishands. He could always castthemoutagain.

Johnstruggledtohisfeetand lumbered into his room.Meanwhile, Nicodemusretrievedhisbedsheet-turned-

satchel.A moment later, the

largemanreappearedholdingtwoparchments.

“John, how can you sayall these thingswhen no onehas heard you say anythingbut your name, ‘no,’ and‘splatteringsplud’?”

“Splatteringsplud,”Johnechoed forlornly. “Longbefore, Simple John was theson of a tailor in Trilli…Trillinon. But John was

stupid so father says get out.Simple John lived on streetsfor years before Typhoncomes.TyphonsayshemakeSimpleJohnunstupid.Hecanfixallbrokenpeople.Butsaysthat depends on…Nico. Hesays Simple John must lookafter Nico andmake sure hedoesn’t leave south place…here. Typhon brings SimpleJohn here. Tells me to sayonly three things. Typhonteachesmebigalphabetsand

tells me to watch Nico.Typhon comes back withemerald every four years tovisitNicowhenhe’ssleeping.And he says to use these”—he held up the parchments—“ifNicotriestogo.”

“Emerald?” Nicodemusexclaimed. “John, what areyoutalkingabout?Youknowthat someone came to watchme sleep? Did he steal myabilitytospell?”

Rather than answer,

John reached into hisparchment and pulled out aspell that Nicodemus hadheardaboutbutneverseen.

Written in silveryMagnus, its pumpkin-sized,two-partbody resembled thatof a spider, but its hundredmulti-jointed legs werenothing like the relativetameness of arachnidappendages. These horrificlimbsweretwiceaslongasaman was tall and covered

with sharp stonybarbs.Theyraspedtheir tarsalsacrossthefloor.

It was a spell,Nicodemus knew, that hadbeen written during theDialect Wars, when theNuminous Order hadentangled itself in the fall oftheNeosolarEmpire.Itwasatime when wizard foughtwizard, when new magicallanguages and societiesformed, when deceit and

bloodspells killed thousands.And on the day the fightingceased and the new magicalsocieties agreed never tomakewaragain,thearacknusspell—one of which Johnnowheld—wasforbidden.

Judging from his eyes,Simple Johnhadhadno ideawhat he was about to pullfrom the parchment. Whenthebloodspellbloomedinthebigman’s hand, he cried outand dropped the construct.

With a whirl of legs, thebloodspell shot towardNicodemus faster than anuncoilingsnake.

Nicodemus dropped hissatchel and instinctively castthe white spells he hadpreviousused tobindSimpleJohn. But a long leg flickedoutandsnappedthesentenceslike threads. And then thebloodspell was on him,gripping himwith tens of itshorrificlegs,liftinghimup.A

stickyMagnus rope emergedfromitsabdomen.

Like a spider wrappingitsvictiminsilk,thearacknusspellspunNicodemusaroundwith its claws. Withinmoments,allbuthisheadandleft arm were enclosed in acocoon.

The bloodspellscampered up the wall ontothe ceiling. After reachingdown, it hoisted Nicodemusintotheairand,withasecond

length of sticky rope, boundthecocoontoarafter.

Then the bloodspellspread itself out, its hundredlegs securing its grip: anightmare on the ceiling.Below, Nicodemus swunghelplesslyimprisoned.

All the while SimpleJohn yelled: “Uh’AAaaa,Uh’AAaaaaa.”Tearsreturnedtohiseyesandheshiftedhislarge feet. “Uh’Aaaaa.” Butwhen he saw Nicodemus

hanging upside down andunhurt,hecalmed.

Nicodemuswasshockedto find himself still alive.“John,whathaveyoudone?”he asked with as much calmas he could muster. “Wheredid you get this construct?This is dangerous. Call thespell back into itsparchment.”

John shook his head.“Typhon said Nico no go.Said use parchments to stop

Nico until Typhon comes oruntilTyphonsendsFellwroth.Fellwroth is red-eyes-man.Typhonvisitwithemerald towatch Nico sleep every fourautumns. This should be anautumnwhen Typhon comesto watch Nicosleep. AndTyphon promised he’d comewhen I used big parchments.AndifTyphoncan’tcome,hesend Fellwroth of the redeyes.”

“John, you’re not

makingsense.”John shook his head.

“TyphonsaidNiconogo.Heneeds to watch Nico sleepeveryfouryears.Touchesthescar with the emerald.Typhon saidhewould come,but there must be somethingstopping him. It’s Fellwrothred-eyes-man that’s coming,then. Typhon says useparchmentstostopNicountilFellwrothcomes.”

“John,” Nicodemus

cried, “you don’t knowwhatyou’re talking about! John,helpme!”

The big man shook hishead.“Redbeard,blackshinyskin, that’sTyphoneus…saysalsoputthis”—hehelduptheother parchment—“until hesends Fellwroth of the redeyes. He says he fix us; hemakes Nico not go.” Withthat John reached into thesecond parchment and pulledoutaspell.

At first, only goldenNuminous runes could beseen, but then the spellcongealed into a brown andgreen construct. The thingwasaslargeasaman’shead.Its fat, mucus-covered bodyresembled a toad with itsstomach torn out. Its bulgingeyesshonewithanimalgreed.A foot-long tongue floppedfrom its toothless mouth.Nicodemusyelledinwordlessterror.

Johnwasyellingtoo,buthedidnot letgoof thespell.“Nico not cry. Simple Johnhas to.” He grabbedNicodemus’sfreearmtostophimfromstrugglingandheldout the slimy text. Like aninfant searching for a nipple,the construct reached forNicodemus’shead.

Nicodemus jerked andtwisted his neck, but to noavail. The creature slid itscold hind legs around his

throatanddug the tinyclawsof its forelegs into his scalp.The spell’s soft underbellyspread itself across his headlikeagruesomehat.

“John!” Nicodemusexclaimedhoarsely.“Thisisacensorship spell! Get it offme!John,please!”

With a gurgling burp,thetoadliketextconverteditstongue back into Numinousrunes and plunged it intoNicodemus’s head, censoring

two common languagesentences he had beenwriting. The glowing whiterunes stiffened and fell fromhis shoulder to shatteron thefloor. “John! Get it offme!”Nicodemus shouted,struggling to free his armfromthebigman’sgrip.“Getitoffme!”

“Shhhhh,” Simple Johnpleaded. He pattedNicodemus’s arm. “No cry,Nico. Man will fix

brokenpeople. Typhon saidbad men and monsters willtry to get to us. But SimpleJohn protect. Typhon teachJohn spell for throwing.” Inhis right hand John held aleadshotspell.Itwasasimpleattackspell—a dense ball ofcommon language thatweighednomorethanacorkwhen cast, but once free ofthe caster’s body it took onthemassofalargeleadshot.“Nico not cry,” John cooed,

andsqueezedhisarm.Suddenlythecreakingof

doorhingesfilledtheroom.Johnjumpedupandcast

the leadshot with a powerfuloverhand throw and a cry of“Badmen!”

Somewhere somethingheavy smacked into flesh. Abody collapsed and Johnyelledtriumphantly.

With his free armNicodemus pulled at thecensorship spell, but the

constructstrengtheneditsgriparoundhisneck.

Frantically looking foranythingthatcouldhelphim,he caught sight of hisbedsheet satchel lying openon the floor. On the whitecloth sat the wooden spherewiththerootgrowingaroundit,Deirdre’sSeedofFinding!Hestretchedouthishand,butthe artifact lay just an inchbeyond his reach. He threwhis arm back and forth to

swingthecocoon.A few steps away, John

lumberedoutofNicodemus’sview while making confused“ah…ah…” sounds. Whenthecocoonswung towardhissatchel, Nicodemus managedto touch the Seed of Findingwith the tip of his middlefinger.Buthecouldnotgraspitandswungaway.

Asifsensingdanger,thecensorship tightened its griponhisscalp.

Whenthecocoonswungback, Nicodemus put hiseveryeffort into reaching forthedruidicartifact;hewouldhave willed his arm todisjointfromhisshoulderifitmeant he could reach theartifact.

But there was no need:hecaught thewoodenspherebetweenhisindexandmiddlefingers.Carefulnottodropit,he maneuvered the ball sothat his thumb and index

finger pressed on either sideof the artifact. By pinchinghard,hebroketheroot.

The wooden sphere fellonto thebedsheetandbeganto change shape. Part of theartifact melted into a puddleofliquefiedwood.

Simple John made amonotonewail.“Uh’Aaaaa…Uh’Aaaaa!” Itwas a cry thatsoundedoutnotonlyhisgreatsuffering and humanity butalso his retardation.

“Uh’Aaaaa!”Nicodemuswassointent

upon retrieving the Seed thathebarelyheardthecries.Themagical artifact now lay onthe bed sheet even fartheraway than it had been. Heflung his arm back and forthto swing the cocoon, but theSeedwastoofaraway.

Simple John’s wailsubsided to a moan. WhenNicodemusswungintherightdirection,hegrabbedacorner

of the bed sheet. As thecocoon swung away, hedragged the sheet with him.Judging from the footfalls,Simple John was walkingtoward him. The cocoonswungback,andjustasJohngrabbed his arm, NicodemussnatchedtheSeed.

TheinstantNicodemus’sfingers touched the artifact,thepuddleofwhatseemedtobe liquid wood leaped up tocover the back of his hand

withabarklikeskin.The large man was still

moaning,butbetweenbreathshe muttered to himself.Nicodemus made outsnatches of lucid speech:“Typhon said bad men andmonsters…stop bad men…wrong, wrong…Simple Johnwasstupidandgotitwrong…butnotagain…untilred-eyes-man comes to fix…Fellwroth…Fellwroth of theredeyes…andmonsters.”He

squattednexttoNicodemus.“John,” Nicodemus

croaked,“youneedtoremovethiscensorship.Itwillcensormagic out of my mindforever.”

ButSimpleJohnwasnotlistening. He was rockingback and forth, repeating thewords “bad men andmonsters.” Nicodemus triedtwice more to get the bigman’sattention,butitwasnouse.

Worse, Nicodemus washaving difficulty thinkingclearly with the censorshipspelllockedaroundhismind.Hiseyelidsbecameheavy.Hefoughttostayawake.Hislifedepended on holding on tothe Seed of Finding. Timepassed; Nicodemus couldn’ttellhowmuch.

Then a door crashedopen. Light spilled in fromthe stairwell. “Bad men andmonsters!” John yelled, and

hurledaleadshotspelltowardthe door. In doing so, histhighhit thecocoonandsentNicodemusswinging.

A shrill voice rang out.For a moment, everythingwasspinningblackness.ThenNicodemus glimpsedDeirdrebrandishing a greatswordabove her head. Bellowing,Simple John charged at her.But then the cocoon swungaway and Nicodemus sawonlydarkness.

When he swung back,Nicodemusbeheldsomethingthat made him think he washallucinating. A brown bearwithglowingwhiteclawsandgreen eyes stood beforeDeirdre. John lunged at theanimal. But the bear swattedthe man aside with a pawswipe.

Nicodemus’s viewswung up to the ceiling. Hecriedout.

The aracknus spell was

descendinglikeanightmare.Nicodemus turned away

into darkness. The bearbellowed as the bloodspell’srazor legs rasped across thestone.

Nicodemus swung backand saw the bear slashing itsclawsatthebloodspell’slegs.Therewasaflash.Somethingunseen knocked the aracknusintoashadow.

There came a sickeningcrunch and then endless

seconds with only heavyfootsteps sounding in thedark. Abruptly, Nicodemus’sworld stopped swinging.Thebear’s tremendous muzzleprobed his face, periodicallysuckinginvoluminoussniffs.

Something about theanimal was wrong, butNicodemus couldn’t tellwhatit was for long, confusingmoments. Then he realizedthatthebear’sfacewasmadenot of flesh and fur, but of

wood.Its black nose was a

carved nub of jet; its snout,oak panels engraved withshifting runes. Its glowingeyes were lacquered greenbuttons, and its spiky brownfur was a thick coat ofsplinters.

“Will disspelling theconstruct on your head harmyou?” The gruff male voiceseemed to come fromeverywhereatonce.

Nicodemus croaked,“No.”

The bear’s gleamingclawsflashedbeforehisface,and the censorship spell fellto the floor with a gurglingscream.

Nicodemus gasped. Itwas as if someone hadopened the top of his headandpouredinabucketoficewater.Hismindcouldbreatheagain.

Suddenly Nicodemus

was on his back, looking upat Deirdre and hercompanion,Kyran.

The male druid hadunbuttonedhiswhitesleeves,but Deirdre had not. Thecocoon and bear haddisappeared.

“Are you all right?”Kyranasked.

Nicodemus tried tospeakbuteverythinghurt.

Kyran spoke. “Did theconstructpoisonyou?”

When he could notanswer,Kyran reached downandlaidahandonhisthroat.Heat flushed acrossNicodemus’s body.Suddenlyhis every inch sang withvitality.

Kyranremovedhishandand the warmth subsided.“He’ll be fine.” He pulledNicodemus to his feet.Deirdre grabbed his arm tohold him steady. An ancientgreatsword, nearly as tall as

she,wasstrappedtoherback.Dazed, Nicodemus

looked around. “I can’t…Idon’t understand…”He triedto take a step toward hisbedroom but the floorboardsfelt pliable, as if his bootsweresinkingintothem.

Deirdre tightened hergriponhisarm.“Nicodemus,forgive us,” she whispered.“We thought the sentinelswere guarding you. So weslept.Wecameas fastaswe

could.”“So the giant was a

conspirator?” Kyran saidfrom behind them. “I didn’texpectthat.”

The words hitNicodemus like a hammer.John! With a few lurchingsteps,heturnedaroundtoseeKyran looking down on hisfriend’s body. “Dead?” wasallhecouldsay.

“No,” Kyran said. “I’vea stun spell around his head.

It’s a dangerous text, mightdamage his ability tospellwrite.Andit’sodd;somekind of spell was alreadyaround the man’s mind. Itwas written in a strangelanguage.Nowmystun spellseemstohaveremovedit.”

Nicodemus exhaled inrelief. “Someone tookadvantage of him. Someonehe kept calling Typhon orFellwroth. The spell youdislodged must have been

castbyTyphonorFellwroth.Johnwasn’taconspirator.Hedidn’tmeantoendangerme.”

Kyran’s expressionsoftened. “I wasn’t talkingabout what he did to you. Ididn’t see you until after Idisspelledthespider.”

“Then…” Nicodemusasked, “what…” He saw theotherbody.

Deirdretriedtoturnhimaway. “This,” shewhispered,“isanevilnight.”

As she moved, Deirdredrew her moonshadow awayfrom the second body.Nicodemuscouldnowclearlysee the side of Devin’s facethathadnotbeencrushedbySimpleJohn’sspell.

CHAPTERTwenty-eightAir was still flowing intoNicodemus’s lungs, bloodstill coursing through hisheart. But as he stared atDevin’s body, his own bodyno longer seemed connected

tohissenses.Hetouchedhisfingersto

his lips without feeling hisfingers touching his lips. Heclosed his eyes withoutseeing the blackness of hiseyelids;theimageofDevin’sbodyremained.

Deirdre led him to anearby chair. “Tell me whathappened,” she said, sittinghimdown.

Numbly Nicodemusrecounted how Shannon had

discovered that a golem waskilling cacographic boys andhow John had tried to stophim from evacuating theDrumTower.

“But, I don’t…why…”Nicodemus stammered whenfinished. “I don’tunderstand.” He grabbed thedruid’sarm.“Tellmehowtounderstand.”

She squeezed his hand.“The name Fellwroth is amystery to me. But Typhon,

or Typhoneus, was apowerful demon of theancient world. Hecommanded thePandemonium and wassecond only to Los himself.The word ‘typhoon’ isderived from his name. Hecreated the Maelstrom thatscattered the human shipsduringtheExodus.”

Kyran appeared atDeirdre’sshoulder.“Wemusthurry,” he said, and handed

hertheSeedofFinding.“I’verewritten its texts.” Aninvisibility subtext waswrapping around the druid’slegs.

Deirdre took the Seedand stuffed it intoNicodemus’s belt-purse. “Ifanythingseparatesus,pulltheroot from the artifact as youdid before. Do youunderstand?”

Nicodemus nodded butthen shook his head. “But

about Typhon…I don’t…Imean John can’t haveencountered a demon; thatwouldmeanthatademonhascrossedtheocean.”

Deirdre noddedsolemnly. “That is exactlywhat it means. Nicodemus,the power of the Disjunctionis growing. Soon thePandemonium will cross aswell. Thatmust be the truth.Think on it:what spell otherthan demonic godspell could

have warped John’s mindso?”

From the shadows, anow invisible Kyranwhispered,“Deirdre,hurry!”

Nicodemus wasbreathing hard. Anoverwhelmingdesiretomakesense of things filled hisbrain. If he could onlyunderstand,hemightbegintofeelagain.

“So,” he said,determined not to be put off

by Kyran, “a demon used agodspell to distort John’smind andmake his disabilityworse?”Heshuddered.“Yes,thatmustbeit.Johnhadonlya three-phrase spokenvocabulary but couldspellwrite simple texts in thecommon languages. He evenlearned to seeNuminousandMagnus. I’ve never heard ofanothercacographerlikethat.Someone distorted his mindsothatitwoulddisplayallthe

stereotypical traits ofretardation.”

Kyranspokequickly.“Acurse must have beeninfesting the poor man’smind, forcing him to keepyou here in Starhaven. Itseems my stun text hasremovedthatcurse.Butnoneof this changes the fact thatwemusthurry.”

Nicodemus shook hishead. “John said that everyfour years the demon would

visitmewhenIwassleeping.Butwhy?”

Deirdre answered. “Thedemon must have made anincomplete theft of yourability to spell. For somereasonheneeds to renew thecurseeveryfouryears.”

Nicodemus’s eyeswidened. “The golem toldShannon that his master wasreplenishinganemerald.”

A sudden realizationmadehimpause.“Thedemon

musthaveusedMagistraFinnandJohn to reachmewhenIwas sleeping. The golemknew about Magistra Finnand tried to recruit her. Butthe golem must not haveknownaboutJohn.”

Abruptly emotionreturned toNicodemus in theform of stomach-twistingfear. “John said Typhonwasaccompanied by a ‘red-eyes-man’ named Fellwroth. Thatmustbethegolem’sauthor.”

“And that is why wemust hurry,” Deirdreexplained,pullingNicodemustohisfeet.“Thedemonmusthave tied some summoningmagic to the spider creature.YousaidJohnwasexpectingthis Fellwroth to come inresponse to the parchments.We must not be here whenthecreaturearrives.”

“You’re right; we mustflee.”Nicodemus pressed hishandstohismouth.“Wehave

to—”Hestopped.Somethingwaswrong.“Deirdre, why didn’t

youunbuttonyoursleevesforspellwriting?”heasked.

“The magic I use isdifferent!Notimetoexplain.Now, tell me, what do youneedtobring?”

“The Index! I left it onthe—” Nicodemus’s voicedied as he turned toward thedoor and saw Devin’s body.“Devin,”hewhispered.

Deirdretookhisarmandturned him away. “Not now,Nicodemus. Youcan’t mournnow. Listen tome.Wemustget you down to Gray’sCrossing; there you’ll havemy goddess’s protection.Thenwecanmourn,butnowwemustfly.”

“No,”hesaid,“wecan’t,not without the other DrumTower boys. They’re goingwithus.Thegolem iskillingthemalecacographersoneby

one. He doesn’t know thatI’mtheonehewants.”

“I didn’t know,” a soft,croakingvoicesaid.

Deirdre and Nicodemusturned. Standing in the doorframe was a hunched figuredrapedinwhite.

The stranger spokeagain.“ButIdonow.”

DEIRDRE PULLED NICODEMUSbehind her and drew hermassive greatswordwith one

hand.“There is no need for

dramatics,” the creaturesneered.“Ican’tstaylong.”

In the moonlight,Nicodemuscouldseelittleofthe creature other than thewhite cloth covering hisbody.Whenhespoke,theairbeneathhishoodhadbecomeblurry.

Suddenly rememberingthespellShannonhadwrittenagainst the fiend,Nicodemus

looked for his satchel. Hewasn’t confident enough toextemporize Shannon’s newspell.ButifhehadtheIndex,he could refresh hisknowledge of it.Maybe thenhecouldattemptthespell.

But the book laysprawledoutontheothersideof the common room, notsevenfeetfromthegolem.

“ThepromisedarrivalofFellwroth,” Deirdre growled,raising her sword. “Villain,

are you a lesser demon, orsimply Typhon’s humanlapdog?”

The creature laughedsoftly.“YouknowwhatIam,and you know I slewTyphoneusinyourlandmorethanayearago.Solet’sforgothe blandishments and moveon to the exchange. I cannottake the boy now. I wasrunning to that miserablelittle village. This patheticgolemwasallIhadavailable

back here. I should haveexpected Typhon to plantsome kind of guard on theboy.” The white robesshifted; the figure seemed tolook around. “Who was it?Thegiantoafor thisbroken-facedhussy?”

“I’ll ripyourheartout!”Nicodemus snarled andsteppedforward.

But Deirdre caught hishand. “Nicodemus, no,” shehissed. “If you have the

chance,run.”The golem wheezed a

laugh. “Such courage,Nicodemus. It is good tofinallylearnyourname.”Theairbelowhispalehoodagainbecameblurryasiffilledwitha fine powder. He turned toDeirdre.“Doesthismeanyouare refusing the exchange?It’s hard to imagine that youwouldbesostupid.”

“You make no sense,Fellwroth. The last time we

met, I cleavedyourheadoff.I’d be happy to do the sameagain.”

Nicodemus noticed themoonlight shifting along theback wall. Kyran! Thesubtextualized druid wassneakinguponthegolem.

The creature laughed.“You have more audacitythanbrains,girl.Thinkaboutwhat you are doing. I haveyourrock,andwiththisdeadhussy lying here”—he

nodded to Devin’s body—“you can’t stay inStarhaven. The sentinelswon’t hesitate to censor andbind you. They’ll leave youinaprisonundersometower;reachingyouandtheboythenwould be easier than pickingapples.”

The golem drew awheezingbreath.“Andifyouventure outside ofStarhaven’s walls, where Icanspellwrite,you’llfacemy

fullstrength.Youaretrapped,so don’t be a fool. Give methe boy, and you will berewarded.”

Deirdre shook her head.“Fellwroth, you are in noposition to buy me. Youshouldbemoreworriedaboutyour neck. You can’t useyourmagichere.”

“Fool,” the golemsnapped. “You think I’mafraid of your blade or yourmancreepingbehindme.”He

laughed.“Youwon’tget—”“Now!” Deirdre

screamed as she sprungforward.

Kyran leaped from theshadows, bellowing awordlesswarcry.

Deirdre reached themonster first. She slasheddownward with her sword,landedastriketothegolem’sshoulder, and tore his whitegarment from chest to floor.Kyran stabbed something

unseenintothegolem’sback.The white cloth

collapsedasiffilledwithair.Nicodemus dashed for

the Index. But it was overbeforehepickedthebookofftheground.

Bothdruidswerewavingtheirhandsbefore their facesandcoughing.Theairaroundthemwasgray.

“He knew he was safeallalong,”Kyranmanagedtosaybetweencoughs. “Witha

body made of this, he coulddisengagealmostinstantly.”

Nicodemus steppedcloser. The druids wereenvelopedbyathickcloudofdust.

“WE’VE AN HOUR,” Kyransaid, “maybe less before theauthor can form a moresubstantial body. We mustgo!”

“What of the othercacographers?” Nicodemus

asked, hugging the Indexclosertohischest.

“They’re safe,” Deirdrereplied. “The monster nowknows you’re the one hewants.Quicklynow,ourlivesand the fate of theDisjunctionmaydependonit.Tell me why the sentinelsaren’t guarding the DrumTower.Tellmeeverything.”

Nicodemus opened hismouthbutdidnotspeak.Fearhad compelled him to tell

Deirdre of the golem and ofJohn’sbehavior.Hehadbeentooshocked to be suspicious.But now that his wits werereturning,hebegantowonderhowmuchheshouldtrustthedruids.

Deirdre took his hand.“Nicodemus, you are aliveonly because I gave you theSeed of Finding and becausewe came to your aid. Youmusttrustus.”

Nicodemus shook his

head.“Idon’tknowthat—”Kyran spoke.

“Nicodemus, the enemyknows who you are and iscoming for you. And themonster was right when hesaid we cannot remain inStarhaven. The sentinelswillsuspectusofmurderingyourfriend.” He nodded towardDevin’s body. “We’re notsafehere.Norcanyoufleeonyour own.OutsideStarhaventhe creaturewill be powerful

beyondyourimagining.Youronly hope is to come to ourgoddess’s ark in Gray’sCrossing. Only she canprotectyou.”

The druid was right.Nicodemushadnochoicebutto trust them. “We’re takingJohn,”hesaid.

Deirdre shook her head.“He’llslowusdown.”

“No,”hesaid.“Wemusttake him. The sentinels willthink he killed Devin.

Leavinghimherewouldbeadeathsentence.”

“Nicodemus,” Deirdresaid carefully, “the man wascursedbyademon.Wedon’tknowifwecantrusthim.”

“He’scoming.”KyranlookedatDeirdre.

“Icouldsubduetheboy.”“Try it!” Nicodemus

replied hotly. “You couldcensor me, bind me, maybeeven knock me unconscious.But you’ll never sneak my

body through the front gates.Especially at thishourof thenight.Theguardswill searcheverything.”

Deirdre’s mouthflattened.“YouknowanotherwayoutofStarhaven?”

“Only if we bring Johnwithus.”

Deirdre looked him upand down and then laugheddryly. “Ky, rouse the bigman. Now, Nicodemus, tellmewhythesentinelsstopped

guarding you. Tell meeverythingaboutourenemy.”

As Kyran worked someunknownlanguageoverJohn,Nicodemus told Deirdreabouthis strangenightmares,aboutShannon’sarrest,aboutthe Index, and about theattack spell Shannon hadwrittenagainstthegolem.

As Kyran finished,SimpleJohnwokewithalowmoan. In a few momentsKyran had him on his feet.

Thestunspellseemedtohavefogged the big man’smemory. He was confusedand couldn’t seem to recallwhere he was. However, hedid respond to Nicodemus’svoice.

Together, the four ofthem hurried out of thecommon room and into thestairwell.NicodemusheldtheIndexinonehandandJohn’shandintheother.

“Where are we going?”

Kyran asked as they hurrieddownthesteps.

“To the Sataal Landingand the compluvium,”Nicodemus called back. “Weshouldfetch theotherdruids.Theycouldhelpprotectus.”

“The other druids inStarhaven can’t be trusted,”Kyranprotested.

“Just as there arewizardly factions, there aredruidic factions,” Deirdreadded behind him. “The

druidswecan trustaredownin Gray’s Crossing guardingourgoddess’sark.”

On the ground floor,Kyran pushed open the doorand led them into the StoneCourt.Abovethemshonethebrilliantbutsmallbluemoon.

The party hurriedthrough the standing stonesand into a wide arcade thatwouldtakethemeastwardoutof Starhaven’s ImperialQuarterandintotheChthonic

Quarter. Occasionally Johnmade confused, anxioussounds. He seemed to havetroublefocusinghiseyes.ButNicodemus kept him calmwith a few words and thereassuring pressure of hishand.

A shudder ran throughNicodemus as he thoughtabout what the demon haddonetoJohn.HewonderedifthebigmanwouldrememberkillingDevin.

“Nicodemus,” Kyransaid. “If there is trouble, youmuststaybehindDeirdreandme. And if you have thechancetoescape,doso.”

Thinking back to howquickly the druids had dealtwith the bloodspells,Nicodemus nodded. Heasked, “Kyran, back in mycommon room, when youfought the aracknus spell,there was a strange bear.” Acold autumn breeze set

Nicodemus’s black hairfluttering.

Kyranchuckled.“Didn’tyourecognizeme?”

“But that’s impossible.Onlyagodspellcould—”

Kyran laughed. Thedruid’s long, blond hair wasalsostirringinthebreeze.“Itwasn’t truly a bear but apartial construction, made ofthe druidic languages andoak. It was wrapped aroundmybodylikemagicalarmor.”

Nicodemus raised hisbrows. That explained thebear’s wooden face and coatof splinters. “But where didyoufindoakinStarhaven?”

“I’m going to miss thatwalking staff,” thedruid saidwith a sigh and a nod at hislimp.

“You had alreadywritten a spell on the staff?But how can your languagesanimate wood? It should beimpossibleto—”

Kyrancuthimoff.“Thedruidic languagescometousfrom the ancients. Ourlanguages connect to livingtissue—especially that oftrees—in a way that isdifficult to explain.” Hesmiled.“Besides,Nicodemus,there is more possible withlanguage than can beimaginedwithinyourrulesofspelling.”

CHAPTERTwenty-nineSinking fast but stillgloriously bright, the nearlyfullbluemoonsat justabovethe Pinnacle Mountains. Thewhite moon, in the identicalphase as her smaller blue

sister, hung high in thewesternsky.

From their differentangles, the moons filled thecompluvium with half-shadows of ivory and lapis.Nicodemus—still holding theIndexinonehandandSimpleJohn’shandintheother—ledthe druids across the walloverlooking thecompluvium.“The way to the Fool’sLadder is just down thatstairwell.” He motioned

acrossthewall.Kyrantookthelead.Far below them

glistened the impluvium.Theaquatic gargoyles thatoperated the reservoir’svalves were still at workdespite the hour. Theirmovementslowlychurnedthewater, transforming itssurface into a coruscation ofreflectedmoonlight.

Deirdre spoke. “Thathawk-headed construct with

the four arms, the one wepassed to get into this place,if it obeys your commands,whydidn’tyouhaveitfollowus?”

“So it can guard ourbacks,” Nicodemus replied,giving John’s hand anencouraging squeeze. “Thereare only two ways into thecompluvium.”

Together the partyhurrieddownthespiralstairsto the tunnel Shannon had

opened. The image ofShannonboundandcensoredin a sentinel prison hauntedNicodemus as they sloshedthrough the tunnel to theotherside.

Whentheyemergedontoa walkway on Starhaven’seasternmost wall, John madea few soft noises. On thelanding before the SpindleBridge stood the secondhawk-headed gargoyle.Behind it, the Spindle

stretched out through the airto the mountainside. Farbelow them swayed the darkboughsoftheforest.

“I am NicodemusWeal,” Nicodemus told thefour-armed gargoyle. “Youare to obey my commandsand the commands of mycompanions in white.” Henodded to the druids. “WemustusetheFool’sLadder.”

The construct tilted itsheadfirsttoonesideandthen

to the other. Itsmulti-jointedwings snapped open. Theystretchednearlyfifteenfeetineither direction, presenting asolidflankofstonefeathers.

With four heavy steps,the gargoyle plodded awayfrom the bridge. The thing’scrashingfootfallssentrattlingechoes running down theSpindleBridge.

Starhaven’s easternmostwall had two massive irondoors that opened onto the

landing. The giant gargoyletookadefensivestancefacingthe doors. “Could Fellwrothhave formed another golemyet?” Nicodemus asked,turningtothedruids.

Kyran studied themassivegargoyle.“Itdependsonwhat earth themonster isusing.He couldhave formedaclaybodylongago.”

Deirdre moved to standnext to Kyran. Beside her,John squatted down and

pressed his hands against hisface; it seemed his wits hadnot yet recovered fromKyran’s stun spell.Nicodemus wondered whatthe big man would be likenow that the demonic cursehad been dislodged from hismind.

A silvery glow drewNicodemus’seyesbacktothebridge.Besidetherailingnowstood a Magnus spell in theshape of a straight-backed

chair. Nicodemus walkedover to inspect the text. Fivefeet in height and three inwidth, the thing couldcomfortably seat even John’sgirth.

Curious as to how thespellwouldcarrythemtotheground, Nicodemus peeredover the bridge’s railing.“Fieryblood!”heswore.

A foot below him—itsstomachgrowingdirectlyintothebridge’sstones—washalf

agargoyle,asifsomeonehadbisected the construct andfused the abdomen to thebridge.

The gargoyle wrinkleditsporcinesnoutandstaredatNicodemus with tiny blackeyes.Despite its bestial face,thespell’smusculartorsowasthe same shape as a man’s.“Oneatatime,”itcreaked.

Justbehindtheconstructgrew its exact twin. Anothersuch grew behind it, and so

on all the way down to theforest.

Nicodemusblinked.“Dowe just sit in the chair?” heasked. “You hand it downamong yourselves to theground?”

The pig-faced thingnodded. “Sit down and holdon.”

When Nicodemusstraightenedandlookedback,he found the two druidslookingathim.“Istheladder

overtheside?”Deirdreasked.“No,wesitinthissilver

chair; there’s a train ofgargoylesback there.They’llhanditdown.”

“Silver chair?” Kyranrepeated.

Nicodemus hadforgotten. “You can’t see itbecause it’s written inMagnus.I’llshowyouwheretosit.”

There followed a briefargument about the order in

whichtheyshoulddescend.As the druids talked,

Nicodemus glanced at theiron doors that led ontotheSpindle Bridge’s landing. Itwas good to see the hawk-headed gargoyle was alsowatchingthedoors.

In the end, Deirdreinsisted that she go downfirst. Nicodemus showed herwhere to sit and where tohold on. The cold autumnbreezesmelledofpineresin.

“Are you sure I’msecure?”sheaskednervously.“I don’t like holding on tosomething I can’t see. Howdo you know I won’t fallwhen—” She yelped as thechair tipped backward andslowlysankoverthebridge.

Nicodemus ran to therailingandanxiouslywatchedas the muscular gargoylehanded the silver chair downto its neighbor. Deirdre hadshut her eyes and was

squeezingthechairarmswithwhite-knuckleddetermination. The nextgargoyle took the chair andhandeditdownagain.

Kyran appeared atNicodemus’s side andproducedasingleslowlaugh.“She hates high places. Butshe’s got steel in her soul.Anyone else that scared ofheights would be shrieking.”Hepaused.“Howoldareyou,boy?”

Nicodemus lookedover,butthemanwasstaringdownat Deirdre’s descent.“Twenty-six on Midwinter’sDay.”

“Just a weanling. Everbeeninlove?”

Nicodemus thought ofAmyHernandthethingstheyhad said to each other andwhat little it had come to. “Ihope there’s more to it thanwhatI’veknown.”

Kyran produced another

humorless laugh. “A goodanswer.”

Nicodemus stood inawkward silence as Deirdrefinished the descent. Thegargoyles brought the chairup faster than they hadhandeditdown.

John was next.Surprisingly, whenNicodemusdirectedhimtositin the chair, the big mancalmlyobeyed.“Whyisn’themoredistressed?”Nicodemus

asked.Kyran sighed. “It was

the stun spell. He can’tremember anything now. Itshould wear off in a fewhours.”

“I’m worried he mightget confused halfway down.Isthereanyspellyoucan—”

His voice died whenKyran tore a button fromhissleeve and pressed it toJohn’s chest. A globe ofverdant light bloomed from

the druid’s hand and thencondensed into a many-tendriledvine.

“Wondrous spell!”Nicodemus whispered assynaesthetic warmth flushedacrosshisface.

The leafy vine spreadacross Simple John, bindinghis arms to the chair’s arms,his legs to the chair’s legs.Withdazedcalmness, thebigman watched the magicalplant grow until he was

completely entwined.At thatpoint, the vine producedseveralpendulousbunchesofbluewisteriablossoms.

“Flowers,” the big mansaidwithdifficulty.

Nicodemus squinted atKyran’ssleeve.“Thosearen’tbuttons,arethey?”

The druid shook hishead.“Seedsaugmentedwithdruidictexts.”

Justthenthechairtippedover the railing. John yelled

and began to squirm, butNicodemus called outreassurance and the big manstoppedstruggling.

Asbefore, thegargoyleshanded the Magnus chairdown at a controlled pace.“Deirdre will cut him freewhenhereachesthebottom,”Kyranexplained.

The uncomfortablesilence returned as the twomen watched the chair carryJohn down to the forest.

When the gargoyles returnedthe chair, relief washed overNicodemus. He told Kyranhowtositinit.

“I’ll see you on theground,”thedruidsaidasthespell tipped over the railingandbegantodescend.

Nicodemus nodded andwas about to reply when theworlderupted intoablazeofsilverlight.Aroarlikethatofalandslidefilledthenight.

Nicodemus spun around

in time to see the gargoyle’srightwingdisinte-grateintoaroilingMagnuseffulgence.

“NICODEMUS!”KYRANCALLEDfrombeyondthebridge.

Nicodemuslookeddownand saw the druid on theMagnus chair, already sevenfeet below. Green bolts oflight crackling around hishands, he pulled anotherseed-buttonfromhissleeve.

Suddenly, a shrill

screamdrownedoutallothersound.

Nicodemus spun aroundto see the giant gargoyleturning so it could swing itsremainingwing forwardwithdeadly force. Before thegargoyle stood awhite-robedfigure.

Fellwroth in a newgolem!

A hood covered themonster’s face but his ashenhandswere bare and holding

athickspellbook.As the stone wing

whistled forward, FellwrothcalmlypeeledaMagnusspellfrom the book. With a wristflick, the monster cast thespell onto the ground. Itbloomed into a row of thick,silvery poles. The gargoyle’swingstrucktheshaftswithanear-gratingchirp.

Fellwroth ran forward,pulling awhiplikeNuminousdisspell from the spellbook.

With a screech, the gargoyleswung its two right arms.Fellwroth dodged under theblows and flicked out hisgolden whip. The long,luminous sentences wrappedaround the gargoyle’s lowerright bicep, cutting deep intothe construct’s Magnusskeleton.

With a backhand jerk,Fellwroth pulled the whiptaut. The force ripped theMagnus sentences from the

gargoyle’sarmandtorethemintofrayedends.

Now deprived of itslinguistic skeleton, thegargoyle’s lower arm frozeintoimmobilestone.

With a scream, thehawk-headedconstructstruckout with both its left arms.Fellwroth ducked again, butthistimethegargoyle’slowerfiststruckhisshoulder.

Witharesoundingclang,the blow sent Fellwroth

skidding across the landing.He slid across the stones, atrailofwhitesparkssprayingbehind.

“Celestial Canon!”Nicodemus swore. “It’s agolemmadeofmetal.”

RememberingtheIndex,Nicodemus opened it andplanted his hand on a page.Instantaneously the bookrenewedhisknowledgeofthespell Shannon had written totrap Fellwroth’s spirit within

thegolem.With a thundering

rumble, the giant gargoylecharged. But the golemquickly regained his feet andrewrotehisNuminouswhip.

Nicodemus startedforgingShannon’sspellalonghis left forearm. “No!” avoicecriedfrombehind.

He turned to see Kyranhoisting himself over therailing. The druid must havecreated some ropelike spell

and hauled himself back up.“We don’t fight,” Kyrangrowled.“Werun!”

There was a suddencrash. Nicodemus lookedback. With its three goodarms, the gargoyle hadgrabbed hold of Fellwrothand hoisted themonster overits head. With a scream, thegargoyle hurled its foeagainstthewall.

Themetalgolemcrashedinto the stones with enough

forcetocracktwoofthem.“Now! Run!” Kyran

commanded, pullingNicodemusalong the landingand back into the tunnel.They sprinted through thedarknesstothecompluvium.

Kyran stopped at thestairwellandlookedupatthewall that could lead themback to Starhaven proper.Then he looked out into thecompluvium’smyriadgables,gutters, and shadows. “What

kindofbody?”heasked.“Metal,” Nicodemus

panted.“Itwilllasttoolong.We

can’t hide out there in thecompluvium.Sowerunbackto thewizardsandsearch foranother way down to Gray’sCrossing.”

BeforeNicodemuscouldagree, the other man turnedand sprintedup the stairwell,his blond hair glinting in thedouble moonlight.

Nicodemusfollowed.They were halfway up

thestairswhenagoldenflashmade Nicodemus lookdownward. Fellwroth wasbackingoutofthetunnel.Themonster was hurling cursesback the way he had come.An avian screech echoed outof the tunnel; thewar-weightgargoylewasn’tfarbehind.

Nicodemus and Kyrantopped the stairs and dashedalong the wall. They had to

reach the steps down to theSataalLanding.

Suddenly the moonlightaheadofthemshiveredasifitwere full of hot air. Ahorrible idea flashed throughNicodemus’s mind. “Kyran,wait!”hecalled,skiddingtoastop. The druid ignored him.Nicodemus peered over thewall’s farside.“Kyran, it’satrap!”

The druid stopped.“What?”

Nicodemuspointedoverthewall.BelowhimstoodtheSataal Landing’s last cloisterand the steep stairs nestledbetween the wall and theKarkin Tower. “The secondwar-weight gargoyle shouldbe down there. But there’sonly a pile of rubble.Fellwroth alreadydeconstructed it.And that”—he pointed ahead to theshimmering patch ofmoonlight—“is a

subtextualized spell. A largeone. Likely a stasis trap.Fellwrothdroveusupheresowe’drunintothatspell!”

“I see nothing. Can yougleanthesentences?”

Behind them theremaininggargoylescreamed.

“No,” Nicodemus said.“I can only glean itspresence.”

“I’ll try to disspell orspring it,” Kyran said.Synaesthetic warmth flushed

acrossNicodemus’scheeksasthe older man began tospellwrite in a druidiclanguage.

But an explosion madebothmen turn.Fellwrothhadgained the wall and wasrunning toward them. Thehawk-headed gargoyle waslimping behind. Both itswings were now shattered,and its lower rightandupperleftarmswerefrozen.

“Stay behind me,”

Kyran barked as he pushedNicodemus aside. The druidtore a seed-button from hissleeve and pulled back hisarm. From his fist sprangthousandsofthornybranches.Blue flames blossomed fromtheirtips.

Bellowing, Kyran castthe spell with an overhandthrow. As it flew, the tangleof thorns and fire burnedbright enough to dazzleNicodemus’seyes.

Therewasacrashandascream. When Nicodemus’svision returned, he saw thatKyran’s spell had struckFellwroth’s side. Theresulting blast had burnt awide hole in the golem’srobe. The creature’smaggot-white torsowasnowcoveredwith gashes that exposed itsmetalflesh.

With panickeddetermination, NicodemusreturnedtowritingShannon’s

anti-golemspellalonghisleftforearm. Farther down thewall, the hawk-headedgargoyle screeched as ithobbledtowardthem.

Kyran pulled his armback, and again fierybranches bloomed from hisfist.

But it was too late.Fellwrothhadcrackedopenaspellbook and now flickedout a net of Numinous andMagnus.

The censoring textenveloped Kyran andknocked him onto his back.The burning branch spellrolledoutofhishandandlostitsfire.

“Kyran!” Nicodemuscried. Fellwroth’sluminescent Numinouspassageshad intertwinedabout the druid’s head,censoringhimcompletely.Hebegantothrash.

Fellwroth rushed

forward. Nicodemus peeledhis rendition of Shannon’sspell from his forearm andcast it. A comet-like spellshot through the air butsplashed against the golem’schest.Nothinghappened.

Ithadmisspelled.Nicodemus cursed. He

hadfailedMagisterShannon.The old man had worked sohard to get him the anti-golem spell and hiscacographyhadmadeamess

ofit.The golem laughed.

“There’snothingyoucando,whelp. This body is solidiron.”

Nicodemus ground histeeth.HecouldnotreproduceShannon’s spell, but he’d bedamnedbeforehegaveup.

He extemporized aMagnus lash along his thighandpulled it free.Butwithaturn of his hand, Fellwrothcast a Numinous wave that

shattered Nicodemus’s textintophrases.

Nicodemus began towrite a second lash, but themonster’s pale hand flickedoutandgrabbedhisthroat.

Fellwroth’s touch madethe keloid on Nicodemus’sneck flare up with scaldingpain.Itfeltasifthescarshadcaughtfire.

Theworlddissolvedintoblackness.

BEFORE NICODEMUS BLAZEDthe image of his lastnightmare. He was again inthe low cavern, staring at abody shrouded in white.“Fellwroth’s true body,” aboyishvoicesaid.

A small tear-shapedemerald sat in the monster’shands.Thevoicespokeagain.“I dream your dreams; youdreammine.”

With shock, Nicodemusrecognized the voice as his

own childhood voice. It wascomingfromtheemerald.

And then everythingchanged andNicodemuswasfar away. He was in a darkroomlookingathisfather—atallmanwith longblackhairand olive skin.An infant layonatable.

“Thiswashowwewereseparated,”hisboyhoodvoicesaid as Nicodemus’s fatherpressed an emerald againstthebackof theinfant’sneck.

The child shrieked as whitelight erupted from the gemandcutintohisneck.

When the light died thechild was left with an angrykeloid scar shaped like aBraid rune marred by anInconjunctrune.

Nicodemus inhaledsharply. His father hadbrandedhim.Hehadnotbeenborn with a keloid as theHalcyon was prophesied tobe. He could not be the

Halcyon!“Thinknomoreonthat,”

the emerald voice said.“Think on this.” SuddenlyNicodemus was in a strangeland surrounded by rollinghighlands. Itwasnight andawide river stretched beforehim.

“This is how Fellwrothtook possession of us,” theemeraldsaid.

A giant was standingthigh-deep in the darkwater.

Hehadlongredhairandskinthatshoneglossyblacklikearaven’s wing. From John’sdescription, Nicodemusrecognized the demonTyphoneus.

Suddenly Fellwrothappeared behind the demonand brandished a blade ofwhite light. Silently,Fellwroth stabbed Typhon inthe side—stabbed him againand again until the demoncollapsed and transformed

into a ball of glowing redlanguage. Fellwroth hackedtheredlanguageintobitsthatfloateddowntheriver.

Again everythingdissolved into blackness.“Beware the scar,” theemerald’s voice said. “ItwillbetrayyoutoFellwroth.”

THE VISION DISAPPEARED andNicodemus was againstanding on the wall beforethecompluvium.

Fellwroth’s golem hadpulled back his hand as ifburnedbyNicodemus’s skin.The monster’s ragged whitehoodstillconcealedhiseyes,butthethinbloodlesslipshadpartedinshock.

Suddenly Nicodemusunderstood. “The emerald isthe stolen half ofmymind,”hesaid.“It’s theonesendingmethesedreams.Sendingmedreams of where your truebody is, dreams of your

crimes. Before I saw thedragon and what you did toEric.NowI’veseenwhatyoudidtoTyphon.”

Fellwroth’s lips workedsoundlessly.

“You were the demon’sslave!” Nicodemusexclaimed.

Fellwroth struck outwith his hand and screamed:“I CUT HIM IN THERIVER!”

Nicodemusjumpedback

and caught Fellwroth’s blowon his shoulder. Painexploded through his chest,and the world spun round.Hisbackhittheground.

When he looked up,Fellwroth was standing overhim with clenched fists. AgoldenNuminousspikejuttedout from the monster’s righthand, a Magnus spike fromhisleft.

“I’ll hew your retardedmind in half!” Fellwroth

snarled and drew back hisrightfist.

Suddenly Kyran wasabove them both. Bloodcovered the druid’s face.Again the magically burningbranches were growing fromhis hands. With a snarl, hegrabbed hold of Fellwroth’sraisedfist.

The branches snakeddown thegolem’sarm.Theirflames flared into ablaze thatburnt off the golem’s sleeve

and began to melt his armintoquick-silver.

With a metallic howl,Fellwroth turned andslammedhisrightfist,anditslong Magnus spike, intoKyran’sstomach.

Nicodemuscriedoutandstruggledtofindhisfeet.

Blood spread acrossKyran’s belly, but the druidonlygraspedFellwroth’sarmmoretightly.Theblueflamesroared louder as the burning

branches spread down thecreature’sshoulder.

The monster’s howlbecameagaspashesquirmedaway from Kyran and fellbackward onto thecobblestones.

SomehowKyranyankedNicodemus to his feet. “ForDeirdre,”hegrunted,andcasta common language sentenceintoNicodemus’sshoulder.

Thenowwrithinggolemwastryingdesperatelytopull

the burning thorny branchesfrom his flesh.His right armhad melted down to a thin,uselessstalk.

“Don’tbelikeme,boy.”Kyran pulled Nicodemusaway.“Beanything:bewild,be saintly, be wicked. Loveallorlovenone,butdon’tbelikeme.”

Suddenlythewar-weightgargoyle was beforeNicodemus. “Get him tosafety at any cost,” Kyran

commanded.BeforeNicodemuscould

protest, the hawk-headedgargoylegrabbedholdofhimand—as if he weighed nomore than a kitten—hoistedhim into the air. Nicodemusclutched the Index to hischest.

An inhuman screamturned Nicodemus’s eyesback to see themetal golem.Themonsterhadextinguishedtheblueflamesandwasnow

on his feet and charging. AlongMagnuslashglitteredinhis waxy hands. Kyranmoved to meet the creature,blue fire again blazing fromhisfists.

“Kyran,no!”Nicodemusyelled.

With a vicious strike,Fellwroth brought hisMagnus lash around, tearingthroughKyran fromshouldertohip.

Nicodemuscriedout.

The golem chargedforward and raised hisMagnus lash to strike at thegargoyle.

ButthenNicodemuswasin the air, falling attremendous speed. Hisstomachclenched.

The hawk-headedgargoylehadleapedfromthewall.

Nicodemus had only aglimpse of the impluvium’sglassy surface before they

splashed into it.Themomentthe gargoyle’s feet hitwater,its arms liftedNicodemus upover its head to reduce theshockofimpact.Evenso,thecrash of water seemed to jarthe wits from Nicodemus’smind.

His first lucid thought,ludicrously, was for theIndex’s safety. Hetightenedhis grip on the book eventhough the water was surelydestroyingitspages.

Hisnext thoughtwasofthe golem. He opened hiseyesandfelttheshockoficywateronhiseyeballs.

The gargoyle’s weightwas fast pulling them downinto the impluvium’s depths.But after craning his neckaround,Nicodemuscouldseea blurry white column ofbubbles created as the golemhitthesurface.

Suddenly a stone facecovered with fish scales

loomed before Nicodemus.Theaquaticgargoyle’s roughhands grabbed hold ofNicodemus’s robes andpulled. Then dozensmore ofthe tiny hands set upon him,pulling him somewhere. Hefoughttheurgetoscream.

Above him the metalgolem was sinking fast, itswhite cloak billowing in thewater.

A high-pitched whinefilled the water and abruptly

many gargoyle hands wereshoving Nicodemus into adark hole. He fought toescape but there were toomany.

They stuffed him into asmall,blackspace.Asheetofmetal closed above him andthere followed a secondwhine.

In complete darkness,Nicodemuspreparedtodie.

But the whine grewlouder and then Nicodemus

was falling, tumbling,banging against the sides ofsome long tube. He shoutedandfeltthecoldwaterfillhismouth. The tube began tobend and he slid along itsalgae-coatedbottom.

Suddenly he fell into amixture of air and water.Somethingwasroaringlikeawaterfall.

He splashed down intowhat seemed to be a waist-deep underground river. His

mouth opened and drew inlonggulpsofair.

He let the powerfulcurrent pull him along.Slowly the waterfall’s roarfaded and he could hearthingsmovinginthedarknessabove him—small, rustlingthings that spoke withcreakingvoices.

And then, withoutwarning, he was outside.Above him shone acrystalline night sky.Around

him stood a forest of darktowers. A few bats flittedaboutinthechillyair.Nearlytwo hundred feet belowstretched the weed-coveredgardens and stone walkwaysoftheChthonicQuarter.

The gargoyles haddropped him into anaqueduct, Nicodemusrealized, as he floated intoanother tunnel. The icycurrentcarriedhimnorthwestthrough several towers and

across the high aqueductsuntil it dropped him into amassive brass cistern in theSpirishQuarter.

Whispering thanks toevery deity and gargoyle heknew, Nicodemus pulledhimself out of the water andran.

At first he fledaimlessly. He feared thatFellwroth might havefollowed him down theaqueduct. But once sure that

he had escaped, Nicodemussnuck into an old janitorialcloset tocatchhisbreathanddryoff.

To his shock, hediscoveredthattheIndexwasmiraculously dry. He turnedthe codex over again andagain, looking for somereason why it had not somuchasadamppage.

Hefoundnoclue.Butashe turned the book over, thethrill of escape faded. The

keloid scars on his neckbegan to burn, and his handsbegantoshake.

At first he thought onlyofKyran’shorribledeath.Butthen he remembered thesentence the druid had castinto his shoulder beforedying.

He pulled the line freeandtranslatedit.

Reading Kyran’s finalwords made him feel numbfor awhile. Then he thought

ofDeirdreandthenofDevin.He thought of John and ofMagister Shannon. Hethought of his father,brandinghisinfantself.

Whenthetearscame,hedidnottrytostopthem.

CHAPTERThirtyHugging the Index to hischest, Nicodemus peeredaround the tapestry he washidingbehind.

He stood at Starhaven’swesternmost point, in the

main hall of its gatehouse.The academy’s entrance laybeyond. Two guards, bothwomen, paced thedrawbridge.

Each woman wascasting, from her waist, awhite sentence that held aspellbook open beside her.Thisaction,called“floatingaspellbook,” gave eachspellwright quick access toher book’s prewrittenoffensivelanguage.

Slinkingbackbehindthetapestry, Nicodemus closedhis eyes and envisioned theemerald he had seen in hisdreams. The stone was asmall, flawless teardrop. Atthe gem’s center glowed averdant spark. This was themissingpartofhimself.

Heshuddered.If not for this gem, he

wouldn’t be cacographic.More important, Kyran andDevinwouldn’tbedead.

In his imagination, thegem shone brighter and hisdetermination to recover themissing part of his mindgrew.Summoningthismentalimage was how he hadstopped the tears in thejanitorial station. It was howhewouldpreventthemnow.

He let the emerald’slight burn away all hissorrow, all his doubt, all hisweakness. He must find awaytoregaintheemerald,to

completehimself.Hefelthisbelt-pursefor

Deirdre’s Seed of Finding.Once away from thestronghold,hewould tear therootfromtheartifacttoletthedruidknowwherehewas.

Again glancing frombehind the tapestry,Nicodemus inspected the twoguards.Theyoungeronehadlong black hair and a paleface. She was unknown tohim. But the elder guard’s

silverhairanddarkfacewerevaguely familiar. If heremembered correctly, shewas one of Starhaven’sforemostNuminousauthors.

Biting his lip,Nicodemus leaned back intohis hiding place. Perhaps heshouldchancea return to theFool’s Ladder; he was nevergoing to escapeStarhaventhroughthefrontgate.Togetpasttheseguardshe’dhavetobeinvisible.

An idea grew in hismind.

Perhapshecouldfindaninvisibility subtext so simplethat he could repair anymisspellings the corruptedIndexmightintroduceintoit.

He opened the book.Atfirsthecouldnotmakesenseofwhathesaw. It seemed tobe the chapter of an oldtreatise, but why it hadappearedwasamystery.

From Towards aUniform Spelling byGaiusRufeusMany today argue thattolorence for alternativespellings encuragescreativity. I conseed thatformany texts there are afew alternative spellingsthatarenotonlyfunctionalbut also superior to theconventional spelling. Butthe number of thesefortunate mistakes is

dwarfedby thenumberofalternative spellings (orwe should call themmisspellings) that arenonfunctional and, incertin cases, dangerous. Ifwizards are to survive asuseful members of theNeosolar Empire then astandardfor…

Nicodemus frowned.Hehadbeenthinkingofsubtexts,not spelling. The Index was

supposed to provideinformation on whateversubjecthewantedtofind.Hereached to turn the page butthenstopped.

Maybe the Index wascorrect: he hadn’t beenthinking about subtextsthemselves; he had beenwondering if he couldmanagetorewriteasubtext.

He reread the page. Sowhat if a few misspellsworked?He’dknownthatfor

years. He couldn’tdeliberately misspell asubtext; the text might flayhisfaceoff.

Irritated, he flipped thepagetoshutthebookup.Thesheetheturnedtocontainedatreatise on self-doubt and itseffect on spellwriting. “I’msupposed tobe readingyou,”he half-whispered, half-growled.

Thebookdidn’tanswer.Nicodemus planted a

palmonthepageandsenthismind flying up into thebook’sstarryskyofspells.

Fromthedarkness,threecomet-like subtextsapproached, each presentinganexplanationofitsfunction.

The first glowed green.It was a long and commonlanguage spell namedmadide. According to itsdescription, the subtextblurred the image of thosewho cast it, making them

difficult to see or strike.Therewasalsoawarning:

Note that madide’sinvertedstructurepreventsmost spellwriters fromseeing this subtext;however, a spellwrightposessing mastery of thecomon langeuge mayglean the rune sequensesand hense visualize thesubtext.

That wouldn’t do; theguardshadcertainlymasteredthecommonlanguages.

The second spell shoneNuminous gold. Nicodemusrecognized the latere subtext—a favorite of MagisterShannon, who sometimesdemonstrated a love ofpractical jokes rare for agrand wizard. This spellformed a halo thatcontinuously showered light-bending runes on its wearer.

Latere-casters becameinvisible so long as theyremained still. Slowmovement made the airshimmer; rapid movementrevealed glimpses of thecaster’s legs or arms. Moreimportant, not even a grandwizard could glean itspresence.

“This subtext is trulywonderful,” Master Shannonhadoncemockinglylectured.“For when one packs a

friend’s shoes full of snow,one does want to be therewhenheputsthemon.”

Fear and guilt assailedNicodemus as he thought ofShannonimprisoned.

But with grimdetermination, he focused onrecovering the emerald andforcedhimselftoconsiderthelatere subtext. Itmightwork;he would have to moveslowly and be sure not tostandwheretheguardsmight

walk. However, it was verycomplex.

The third spell burnedwith the violet light of theIndex’s language. It waswritten in a terse, self-reflexive style and possessedabriefdescription:

Thewordsofsceadugangacover the body, allowingour authors to walkunseen in shadow but notbrightlight.Itdeadinsthe

soundoffootsteps.

Thiswas preciselywhatNicodemus needed. With aflash, the sceaduganga spellcrashedintohismind.

Having gotten what hesought, Nicodemus removedhis hand from the Index andfelt his mind drop back intohis skull. As before, thetransition frombook to brainmade his thoughts feelstrangelyconfined.

Nicodemus closed theIndex. On the gate, the twoguards were discussing anongoingbookworminfection.Apparently there weresupposed to be other guardson the front gate, but theprovosthadpulledthemawaytohelphunttheworms.

One of the stronghold’scats now prowled the otherside of the corridor.Nicodemus glared at thefeline,willing it not to come

hiswayandbypurringrevealhis presence. Another breezesetthetorchestoguttering.

After a long breath,Nicodemus turned his mindto the sceaduganga spell.Because the text had comefrom the corrupted Index, itwas already slightlymisspelled. And for thatreason, Nicodemusconcentrated on keeping hiscacographic mind fromfurther distorting the newly

learned spell. After anotherlongbreath, he set towritingthe subtext along his rightforearm.

Although each violetrune required a surprisingamountofenergy,writingthespell took only moments.When finished, thesceaduganga solidified into atransparent cylinder on hispalm.He frownedat his firstattempt in a new language.Mostlikelyitwasmisspelled.

He cast the text into the air,expecting it tocrashonto thefloor.

Butitdidnotfall.It shot upward and

smashed against the ceiling.“Fiery blood!” he whisperedas violet sentence fragmentssnowed about him. Hissecondattemptbehavedlikeaproper misspell andplummeted to the ground.Thethirdspellshotacrossthecorridor to strike the cat and

render it invisible. The ratswouldn’tlikethatatall.

The fourth spell crashedontothefloorlikethesecond,and the fifth deconstructedbefore leaving his hand.Nicodemus’s face grew hotwith frustration. He badlywanted to break somethingother than anothersceadugangasubtext.

Suddenly his keloidcame alive with pain.Clapping a hand onto the

scars,hediscoveredthat theywerealmostashotasboilingwater. This had happenedtwice before when he wasmaking his way to the frontgate. It made him worryabout the last thing theemerald had said: “Bewarethescar; itwillbetrayyou toFellwroth.”

What that meant,Nicodemuscouldn’t imagine.And he couldn’t waste timethinking about it now. He

needed to get out ofStarhaven.

Sohe took slowbreathsand waited for the scar tocool. When it did, he bentdownto inspect thedecayinghalvesofhis last twosubtextattempts.Bothspellshadsplitat the same point in theirprimary sequence.Undoubtedly, he had madethesamecacographicerrorinboth.

“Los damn my

cacography,” he hissed,fightinga freshwaveofself-hatred. “If only I had thatemerald!”

He forced himself tothink logically. Was there away to rewrite the spell toavoid the commands thatcontaineddifficultspellings?

He grunted. Perhapsthere was. But that wouldmean deliberately respelling,deliberately misspelling. Hiswhole lifehehadwagedwar

on his cacography. True,intentionally misspelling theshielding spell back in theIndex’s chamber hadincreased his control of thattext. But now he wasconsidering something moreegregious—willfullycomposingamisspell.

But thepresent situationafforded few options: hecould either try a respell orlurk around Starhaven untilthe sentinels or the golem

discoveredhim.So he made another

attempt at the subtext, thistime deliberately altering thefractious paragraph. Whenfinished, the respelled textgloweddeeppurple.

Wincing, Nicodemuscastthepalecylinderintotheair, where it floated andbegantospinfasterandfasteruntil it seemed as if itmightsplitapart.

But the misspelled

subtextdidnotbreak;ratheritcast out a sentence fromeither side of its body. Thewhirling lines coveredNicodemus’sfeetandwoveatextual sheet up his leg.Within moments, he wasenclosed from boot heel totop hair in light-bendingprose.The spell left two thinslits open for his eyes so hemight see out from thedisguisingwords.

Elation flushed through

Nicodemus.Slowly,hesteppedfrom

behindthetapestry.Hisbootsmade no sound on thecobblestones.Butashedrewnear a torch, the sentencesnearestthelightbegantofrayanddeconstruct.

This was strange; lightshouldn’t damage magicallanguage. He moved awayfrom the torch and fed morepurple sentences to thesubtext. The deconstruction

stopped and the spellregaineditsintegrity.

Carefully Nicodemusstepped through the gate andpast the guards. A nervoussmile began to curl his lips.Theguardscouldnotseehim;theycouldnothearhim.

It was a wonderfulfeeling.He had respelled theancient sceaduganga.Perhaps, one day, he wouldpublishhiscreationandnameittheshadowgangersubtext.

His smile grew as heslippedacrossthedrawbridgeand onto the mountain road.“Dear heaven, I’m free,” hewhispered as Starhaven’slofty towers came into view,blackagainstthestarrysky.

With a laugh, he turnedaway from the academy ofstrict wizardly language andknew that he was safe underhis disguise—safe under anepic of concealing, respelledprose.

CHAPTERThirty-oneNicodemus walked into thecoldautumnnight.

Windrushedthroughtheevergreensand tore leavesofscarlet and yellow from theaspens.The crisp air smelled

ofdampearth,moldy leaves.Before him a steepmountainroad curved down to thehamlet of Gray’s Crossing.Behind him rose Starhaven’sblacksilhouette.

Even thoughNicodemushad seldom left the academyandnevertraveledthisroadatnight, he noticed little of thedarkbeauty;hismindwastoodistractedbyrecentmemoriesandnewemotions.

At first he felt only

exhilaration. His cacographyhad helped him escape! Butthen he turned a bend andsaw a rotting log thatresembled a woman’s body,curledupandfacingaway.Ashiver ran down his body.Thetoppledtrunkgrewlargerin his vision, revealing palemushrooms scattered likewarts across the wood, theirrootseatingintotherot.

Devin’s half-crushedface flashed before his eyes.

He tried to think of theemerald,buthisfearandgriefwould not dissipate. Devinand Kyran were dead. Thedemon Typhon had turnedJohn into anunwittingkiller.Far worse, the monstrousFellwrothwasstillalive.Thedamage Kyran had done tothe metal golem was of noconsequence.Fellwrothmightalready be forming anotherbody.

Nicodemus closed his

eyes and again sought theemerald’simage,butagainhefailed. Fellwroth would keepcoming,nomatterhowmanytimes he escaped, no matterhow many golems hedeconstructed.

Andyet,whenthegolemhadgrabbedhisthroat,hehadheard the emerald’s voice ashis own childhood voice.Hehadlearnedthat thegemwasthe missing part of himself.He had learned that his

nightmares had containedvisions of Fellwroth’s livingbody.

But could thatknowledgedohimanygood?He wasn’t the Halcyon.Prophecy dictated that theHalcyonwould be born witha Braid-shaped keloid.Nicodemus’skeloidhadbeencreated after his birth, whenhis father had branded himwiththeemerald.

Worse, Nicodemus still

had no idea whereFellwroth’s true bodymightbe. True, he knew itwas lying in a cavernwith astanding stone…andinhabited by nightmareturtles?Itwasnonsensical.

His fear grew and thekeloid began to burn again.The scars grew so hot hefeared they might singe hishair. He paused to fan thebackofhisneck.

While he waited for the

keloid to cool, he pulled theSeedofFindingfromhisbelt-purse and tore off itsencircling root. As before,partoftheartifactmeltedandthenrecongealedon thebackof his hand as barklike skin.NowDeirdrecouldfindhim.

However, the Fool’sLadder had landed her onStarhaven’s eastern side. Shewould have to make a longhike around Starhaven to theroad Nicodemus now

traveled. Even if the druidhadsetoutatonce,shecouldnot findhimbeforemorning.Until then, he needed a safehidingplace.

Hestarteddowntheroadagain,hopingtoreachGray’sCrossingquickly.

Butthenightwasnotthesame; he was not the same.The forest loomed largerandblacker. In the blue moon’slight, once familiarmeadowsbecame otherworldly

landscapes. All around himlurked the loneliness of theroad.He shook his head andtried to push away thoughtsofKyranandDevin.

But thenightwasnot tobe denied; it had hisimagination as an ally.Everythingchanged.Astumptook on a lycanthrope’sshape; a leafless branchopened gnarled fingers andhung ready tograb; thewindin the trees began to talk of

Chthonicfootsteps.For most of his life,

Nicodemus had dreamed ofventuring into these woods,of battling monsters on thisvery road. But he neverguessed that he could feel soalone, or that it could be sodark.

And then thebluemoonslipped behind a cloud,leaving only the whitemoonin the sky. The world grewdarkerstill.

Every falling leaf madehim jump. Every snappingtwig conjured images oflurking horrors. He felt as ifhisheartwerebeatinganinchbehind his eyes. The roadseemedtoshake.Hedroppedthe Index and fell to hisknees.

Behind boughs andunder bushes, nightblueterrors grew legs and teeth;they slunk through the tallmeadowgrass and hid in the

shadows.Theybegantochantin croaking voices, tellingstories of how they haddrifted among the woods asimpalpable wraiths for manylong years. They chantedabouthowNicodemus’slong-awaited journey on the nightroad was making themstronger.

The night creaturescongregated at the forest’sedge. And when he lookedaway, they darted across the

road to the treeson theotherside. They went mostlyunseen,buteverysooftenheglimpsed a gnarled elbow ortwo shining violet eyes. Notwowerealike,andtheywereallaroundhim,mutteringandspittingtheirlowchant.

Now breathing hard,Nicodemusrealizedhewasinmortal danger. He realizedthat he could go back toStarhaven. He looked up atthe dark towers. If he

returned, the sentinels wouldimprison him. But what ofthat? Other people wouldpass him in the halls, and hewould know that the worldwas constant. He couldexplainaboutthegolems.Theacademy would protect him.Itwould give him a place tolaydownhis language in thetracksofliteraryconvention.

Still on his hands andknees, he turned to faceuphill.

All around, the terrorswhispered about their fearthat he would flee back toStarhaven and deprive themofafeeding.

An endless momentpassed as Nicodemuskneeled, adrift in a fantasticuniverse.

But then the image ofthe small emerald appearedbefore his eyes. At thatmoment, he decided toremain. He would rather die

tryingtofindthemissingpartofhimself.

The nightblue terrorsburst onto the road,moaningwith rapture. They circledhim: a nightmarish jamboreeof limbs, bellies, and teeth.He remained on his knees,frozenwithfear.

Some of the monsterswere strangely familiar—asmall eyeless dragon; a giantinsect with a human face; atroll’sthree-hornedhead.

Others were suchphantasmagoric unions oflimbsand finsand fangs thatthey were impossible toperceive in their entirety.Some of the monstersgrabbedathisclothes;othersran their claws through hishair.

But as the night terrorstouched him, Nicodemusbegan to sense their thoughtsand feelings. Somehow heknew that his choice to stay

ontheroadhadaffectedtheminwaystheydidnotrealize.

Just then the windbrought rhythmic hoof beatsup from the mountainside.The night terrors froze likestone carvings. Some putclaws to batlike ears. Nowthey could hear the four-beatsongofagallopinghorse.

Every monstershuddered; they knew whatwas coming up from thetown. They had felt the foul

thing riding down this samepathnotanhourprevious.

Suddenly andcompletely, the emotions intheir oily hearts transformed.The monsters changed theirminds. With split lips andforked tongues, theywhispered around fangs andtusks, tellingeachotherwhatmustbedone.

Fighting through hisparalyzing fear, Nicodemustried to crawl farther down

theroad.Butdreadplacedtooheavy a weight on his backand he collapsed. The keloidscaronhisneckburned.

Having reached adecision,thenightblueterrorsscooped up Nicodemus andcarried him into a roadsideditch.Theretheypiledontopof him likechildren rough-housing with their father.They were determined tocover his every inch withtheirdeep-blueskin.

Thehorsesongslowedtothetwo-beatrhythmofatrot.Realizing that he hadforgotten the Index on theroad, a three-horned trollscamperedout,pickedup thecodex with bony claws, anddove back into the pile ofmonsters just before a horseand rider came into viewaroundthebend.

Still paralyzed,Nicodemus lay under ablanket of phantasms, all of

which had become as still asdeath.Thoughawebbedhandcovered his right eye, hecouldstillseewithhisleft.

Four white horse legsappearedastheanimaltrottedto within five feet of wherehe lay. Two tattered bootsdroppedintoviewastheriderdis-mounted.

The newcomer spokewith a low, gruff voice: “Iknow you are near,Nicodemus Weal. Your

keloid calls out to me.” Theboots took halting stepsaroundthehorse.

Through terror’s haze,Nicodemus recognizedFellwroth’svoice.

“Moments ago thekeloid’stextsbecamediffuse.Something is interfering.Butstill, I knew I’d find you onthis road. You took yoursweet time, whelp. I had towait in the miserable townuntil I felt youcomingdown

themountainside.”Thebootslimpedupthe

road as Fellwroth searched.The monster inhaled with aslightwhistlingsound.

“Impressive, this spellthathidesyouandmasks thekeloid’s spells,” he growled.“It must be in a language Ihavenever encountered.Youmust have a new protector;we both know your retardedmind could never managesuchasubtext.”

Fellwroth now steppedinto the meadow on theroad’s opposite side.Nicodemus,numbwithterror,coulddonothingbutwatchasthe fiend’s cloaked backcameintoview.

Themonsterhaddonneda new white shroud, but helimped badly and his rightsleeve hung lifelessly at hisside.

This was the same irongolem Nicodemus had faced

inthecompluvium.Apparently finding

nothing in the grass,Fellwroth staggered back tothe horse. “This body hasknown too much abuse. Ihave only a few moments.Likely this golem will failbeforeIfindyou.”

The creature took inanother whistling breath.“You are out of Starhavennow, so the game haschanged. Your power is

greater than I’d supposed.Perhaps we can come to anagreement.” He paused foranother difficult breath.“Whelp, you now have achoice.Anditisvitalthatyoumaketherightone.”

The monster steppedstraight toward Nicodemus.“If you continue to run fromme,youwilldie.”

Theboots stoppednot afoot from the pile. “I wouldratheryou lived.That iswhy

Iwilltellyouhowtorecoverthe missing part of yourmind.”

FELLWROTHWASSOclosenowthat Nicodemus could hearsomething squeaking like arusty door hinge inside thegolem’sbody.Themonster’sheart?

“ItrustShannonhastoldyou about Language Prime,”Fellwroth said in a slow,metallicvoice.“Itrusthetold

you that it is the firstlanguage, the source of allmagic. But your old teachermight not have known thatLanguage Prime can be usedto change a living creature’sbodyandmind.”

The monster’s bootsshifted toward the meadow.“You should know yourfather was a demon-worshiper.Whenyouwereaninfant, Typhon gave yourfatheranemeraldwebrought

across the ocean from theancient kingdom ofAaraheuminest.Butthatisanarchaic name. The fools ofthis age have contracted thenametoAarahest.”

With a gravelly crunch,thebootspivotedbacktofaceNicodemus. “Your fatherused the emerald to cut intoyour mind. It stole a raretalentthatyouinheritedfromyour Imperial ancestry. Itstole your ability to spell

correctly in any language,evenLanguagePrime.”

The boots turneddownhill. “When I touchedyou,webothsawyourfatherdrawing your ability to spellinto the emerald. I had notrealized until that momentthat the emerald had scarredyou. If I had, I could haveused the keloid to identifyyou. But no matter. Nowanyone holding the emeraldgains the Language Prime

fluency that you were bornwith.”

Now the boots turneduphill. Apparently themonster had not given upsearching for him. “Butunfortunately, the gem losesstrength over time. So onceeveryfouryears,Typhonhadto replenish the emerald bytouchingittoyou.Thegemislosingstrengthnow.Itellyouthis so you will know howvaluableyoucouldbe tome.

IrewardthoseIvalue.”Themonsterpausedasif

to emphasize this last claimbeforecontinuing. “Whoyouwere and how to reach you,theoldmonsterhidfromme.AndwhenIkilledthedemon,I did so before learning howtofindyou.”

An eerie,metallic laughfilledthenightasthemonstermoved out of Nicodemus’sview. “And maybe that iswhattheemeraldwanted.The

gem looks after itself,Nicodemus.It longstoreturntoyou.Itisinsidious.Itsendsdreams to those near it; ittriestodeceiveitswielders.Itbetrayed Typhon. It showedmeinadreamhowtokillthedemonwhenhewastryingtoinfectaminordeity.”

Fellwroth’s footstepshalted.“Theemeraldisusingme to find its way back toyou.But itsdesire tobenearyounowbetraysyou.”

The golem laughedagain. “The keloid on yourneck is a by-product of thestone. It is not truly part ofyou. It grows out ofproportionofyourbody.Itisdisobedient like a cankercurse,andlikeacankeritcanforge magical language.WhenItouchedyou,thescarsensed that my living bodynow holds the gem. And sothe keloid began to forgeLanguage Prime spells. It

broadcasts them to revealyourlocationtotheemerald.”

Through the haze of histerror, Nicodemusremembered how the keloidhadbecomeunbearablyhot.

“I had hoped to followthe keloid’s signals to you,”Fellwroth added. “But thisstrange spell that is hidingyou from my eye is alsodiffusingthesignal.”

A few of the nightterrors covering Nicodemus

shifteduneasily.“But I can sense your

general proximity. I knowyou’re close enough to hearme. And I might find youyet.”

Gravelly footstepssoundedagain.“ButifIdon’tcatch you with this golem, Iwill with another. No matterwhere you run, the emeraldwill find you. It is part ofyou.”

Again came the eerie,

echoing laugh. “Fitting thatyou will always findyourself.”

The footsteps weregrowing louder. “So there isno use running, whelp. Youare one of us. Your mothertoo was a demon-worshiper.Typhon created you bybringing them together.Yourfamily is vital to theDisjunction.”

Themonstersniffedasifannoyed. “Ah, yes, youmust

understandaboutyourfamily.No doubt you know anImperial clan ruled theancient continent. No doubtyou know you are anImperial, one who possessesroyal characteristics.ButyoucannotknowthattheImperialfamily mastered LanguagePrime. Only those of fullImperial blood couldcomprehend and composeprimaltexts.SotheImperialsbred themselves carefully to

keep the talent. Whenhumanity fled across theocean, your family wasscattered. The blood ran thinandthetalentwaslost.”

Fellwroth’s boots cameback into Nicodemus’s viewas the golem hobbled backtowardhishorse.“Sincethen,there have been a fewotherslike you, gifted in LanguagePrime. Typhon has beenbreeding Imperials since heand I crossed the ocean two

hundred years ago. You areone of the products of thisbreeding.”

Fellwroth’s legswobbled, causing the nearbyhorse to shift its feet. “Whyare the demons breedingLanguage Primespellwrights? BecauseTyphon discovered how touse Language Prime tocompose a dragon.No doubtyou’ve heard what the firstdragonhasdone toTrillinon.

TyphonandIwrotethatwyrmusing your Language Primefluency via the emerald. Ittooktenlongyears.”

Fellwroth’s feetshuffledas if the golem was havingtrouble staying balanced.“But that dragon, being myfirstattempt,wasflawed.SoIset it loose on Trillinon toweaken humanity. Now ImustreplenishtheemeraldsoIcancomposeanotherdragonto be stronger and more

intelligent. When I have awyrmpowerfulenough,Iwillfly across the ocean to theancientcontinent.ThereIwillrevive Los and help him toinitiate the War ofDisjunction.”

Somewhere an owlhooted.

“When the demonsenslave humanity, they willwant captains among themen. If you serve me,Nicodemus, they will give

backthemissingpartofyourmind. Youwill be complete.You will know power,wealth, happiness beyondyourabilitytoimagine.”

When Fellwroth spokeagain, the words came outclipped, as if the creaturewere in pain. “So you seeyour choices. You can servemeandknowvastreward,oryoucanrun. Iwon’tkillyouwhen I catch you. I’ve neverwanted you dead. If you

perish, I cannot replenish theemerald.”

Theowlhootedagain.“Iwilldistortyourmind,

makeyoumoredisabledthanTyphon made that giant oaf.Youwillbeaslobberingfool.The emerald will replenishitselfmore slowly, but Iwillnothavetoworryaboutyourslippingfrommygrasp.Thathasbeenmygoalallalong—tofindyouandfurthercrippleyourmind.Butnowthatyou

are free in the world, I amwilling to bargain. Yourresourcefulness hasimpressedme.Joinme.”

Fellwroth drew anotherlong, whistling breath andwaitedasifforNicodemustocalloutanacceptance.

“No response? Perhapsthoughts of prophecy cloudyour thinking. Perhaps youthink fate will save you. Imust tell you then that thehuman prophecies are

nonsense. After the Exodus,humanity longed for thereturn of a full-bloodedImperial so profoundly theyfabricated these prophecies.Theymixed facts about yourfamily with legend andmyth.”

Fellwroth began tocough—it sounded likesomeonestrikingapotwithametalspoon.Whentheracketfinally ended, the creaturespokeagain.

“Some propheciespredict only one full-bloodedImperialwillarisetobecomea savior. The druidicnonsense about thePeregrineis an example. In the sameway, the highsmithsprophesied thecomingof theOriflamme, the hierophantsthe coming of the Cynosure.But other magical societiesimagine two Imperials willarise, one a savior, one adestroyer. Wizards are this

way with their rot about theHalcyon versus the StormPetrel.But it’s all drivel.Allpropheciesareequallyfalse.”

Again Fellwroth madetheclangingcough.

“The truth is that full-blood Imperials like you areonly tools. Tools that mightbe used to impede orempower the Disjunction.And you, Nicodemus, are atoolmadebydemons for theDisjunction.”

Nicodemus screwed hiseyes shut. He still felt dazedand numb. He couldunderstand everything themonsterwassaying,butnoneofitseemedreal.

Fellwrothwasmaking alow, echoing growl. “If yourun from me, you will facedangers about which youknownothing.”

Themonsterpausedasifconsideringsomething.“Onlya few human deities were

aware of Typhon’s presence.Thegreatgodsandgoddessesare too busy governing theirkingdoms to notice. But ahandfulof lesserdeitieshavediscovered Typhon’spresence and formed analliance to opposehim.Theycall themselves the Allianceof Divine Heretics, and theytoohavebeentryingtobreeda Language Primespellwright.Butnoneofyourrelatives have lived past

infancy.”Fellwroth laughed once.

“The ongoing war betweenthe Disjunction and theAlliance of Heretics is apatheticone.WeslaughterallImperials born to theAlliance, and they kill everyoneborntotheDisjunction…everyonebutyou,thatis.AndImustgiveTyphonhisdue;itwas brilliant to steal yourtalentratherthanraiseyoutouse it for us. And then he

disguised you as acacographer. Not in athousand years would theAlliance suspect a retardedboyofbeingourImperial.”

Fellwroth’s legs begantoquake.“I’mtellingyouthisbecause the instant theAlliance learns of yourexistence, they willassassinate you. Think on it:by killing you they woulddeprive the emerald of itspower and hence deprive us

ofourLanguagePrimeandsoour ability to compose aseconddragon.”

Themonster’s legs nowshook enough to make himstagger. “You are in moredanger than you realize. NodoubttheAllianceofHereticsisalreadyawareofyou.Whodo you think sent Deirdre,thatwould-be-druidofagirl?She will kill you the instantshehas theopportunity todosowithoutruiningthedruids’

standing at the convocation.Surely you must understandnow, whelp. I am your onlychanceat survival.Youmustjoinme.”

Suddenly Nicodemus’skeloidstartedtoburn.

The golem’s legs quittheir tremor. “I think…” themonster wheezed as hestarted to limp towardNicodemus. “I think I feelyourpresence.”

But walking proved too

difficult for Fellwroth; awhitehandsanktosteadythecreatureagainsttheground.

“If I could only seeyou,” Fellwroth grunted.“What is this mysteriouslanguagethatconcealsyou?”

Slowly Fellwrothmanaged to stand. Themonster’sbreathingwasmorelabored now. “Perhaps youhatetheDisjunctionsomuch,hatethosewhocreatedyousomuch, that you would

considersuicidetodepriveusoftheemerald.Itwon’tmakea difference. I have alreadyset the wheels in motion togive you a cousin. In time Iwill breed another Imperial.Do not sacrifice yourself fornothing.”

The monster shuffledcloser; his bootswere now afoot away. One of thenightblue terrors coveringNicodemuswhimpered.

“Nicodemus,” Fellwroth

wheezed, “bind yourself toour cause and you shall berewarded beyond yourimagination.Allyouneeddois return to Starhaven. I willcollectyouthere.”

The monster tookanother faltering half-step.His toe landed an inch fromNicodemus’sface.Twonightterrorscringed.

Fellwroth started to takeanother step, but a nightterror threw out a tentacle to

strike the golem’s shin. Themurderer faltered, stumbledbackwardand thenfell tohisknees.

A hood covered themonster’s face, but hisscarred left hand came up topress against amaggot-whitethroat.

“This golem fails,” hehissed. “I leave you,Nicodemus, with a choice.SurrendertomeinStarhavenand know godlike power, or

resistanddie.”Aviolentcoughwracked

themonster’schestandthrewhis head back. His hood slidoff to reveal a longmane ofpallid hair. Where thereshould have been smoothforehead shone a bar offlowing Numinous text. Hisskin was as white as paper.Thefeaturesofhishandsomefaceweredelicate—thin lips,asnubnose,wideeyes.

Another violent cough

wracked the creature and hefell forward,hischinstrikinggravel not four inches fromNicodemus’snose.

Patches of the golem’sskin began darkening intogray iron. The thing staredstraight at Nicodemus witheyes that had neither whitesclera nor dark pupil. Theywere everywhere blood-redfleckedwithblack.

With a violent shudder,thegolempulledhishandup

asiftostrikeoutwithaspell.Butanightterrorleaped

off Nicodemus and ontoFellwroth’s arm. It was thethree-horned troll. The squatcreature pinned the golem’sarmtothedirtroad.

Suddenly Nicodemusrealized that he had seen thetroll before. Many timesbefore.

Something was wrong.Horriblywrong.

Nicodemus’s heart beat

frantically. He struggled toescape the pile of nightterrors,butnowbrightorangeflecks flew across his vision.The ground seemed to spin.Hewasgoingtofaint.

All around him, thenight terrors beganwhispering, urging him tostay still so they could keephim hidden. Before himappeared the small, eyelessdragon with tentaclesgrowing from its chin. He

recognized this night terrortoo; it was called Tamelkan.He had given it that namewhen he was fourteen yearsold.

Since arriving atStarhaven, Nicodemus hadbeen imagining monsters toinfest the nearby forests.Inspired by countless booksof knightly romance, he haddreamed of venturing fromthe academy to confront hisinventedfoes.

Now,asimpossibleasitseemed, his dreams hadbecomereal.Thenightterrorsthat had hidden him fromFellwroth, the creatures thatnowheldhimdown,werethesame monsters he hadimaginedasaboy.

In a confused panic,Nicodemus thrashed harderandthrewofftwoofthebluemonsters. He staggered ontohis knees, but Tamelkanlunged at him. The dragon’s

tentacles wound around hishead.

Overcome by his owndark fantasy, Nicodemus fellbackward intounconsciousness.

CHAPTERThirty-twoWhen Nicodemus awoke, hewas floating through thenight-shadedforest.

High above, a breezewhispered through the leafycanopy and set the black

boughs swaying. A dappledwashofmoonlightebbedandflowedacrosstheforestfloor.

Remembering his nearcapture by Fellwroth,Nicodemussatupwithacry.Hemusthavefaintedafterthegolemhadexpired.

His panicked voiceseemed to shatter into ahundredpieces.Hefelltotheground, his bottom painfullyflatteningasnowberrybush.

All around him ran the

night terrors that had hiddenhim from Fellwroth. As heremembered, the creatureswere the same monsters hehadimaginedforhisboyhoodadventurefantasies.HerewasFael, the lycanthropic neo-demon; Tamelkan, theeyeless dragon with atentacledchin;insect-likeUrowith a human face andhooked hands; Garkex, thehornedfiretroll.

In his dreams, the

monsters had been massivecreatures. But theseblueskinned renditions wereminiature; even the mightyTamelkanwasno larger thanadeer.

Nicodemus rememberedthat the imaginarybeastshadpinnedhimdownontheroad.In fact just before he hadfainted, Tamelkan hadwrapped its tentacles aroundhishead.Butthenightterrorsdid not seem hostile now. In

fact,whenhewoke,theyhadbeen gently carrying himthroughtheforest.

Garkex—a stone-skinned,three-hornedfiretrollwith serrated tusks—scoldedthe other monsters in anunintelligible, squeaky voice.The troll was holding theIndexabovehishead.

The sight madeNicodemuswonder if he hadgone mad. What heremembered seemed like a

hallucination or a nightmare.Had he truly met Fellwrothand learned that his parentsweredemon-worshipers?

As he considered thisquestion, Garkex’s criesseemed to calm the othermonsters. They stopped theirflight to peer back atNicodemus.

Garkex continued hisunintelligible harangue.Slowly, like frightened dogs,the monsters returned. Some

were bowing, some loweringtheirmuzzlesoreye-stalks.

The firetroll plantedhimself directly beforeNicodemusandpresented theIndex.

Nicodemus shookhimself.No,hewasn’tcrazy;he truly had encounteredFellwroth, and he truly wasstaring at Garkex—hisfictionalchildhoodnemesis.

He took the Index fromthe diminutive troll and

huggedittohischest.Garkexbegan to lecture him—hishorns spitting minute orangeflameswhenhesqueakedoutmorevehementsyllables.

Nicodemus staredblankly at the monsters asthey lifted him up andrecommenced their journeythrough the forest. Hewondered if he should try toflee.

But if the night terrorshad wanted him dead, they

couldhavetornhimtopieceswhen he fainted. Or theymight simply have letFellwrothfindhim.

He decided to let themonsterscarryhim.

Astheywentamongthewidelyspacedtrees,speckledmoonlight passed over them.Their course brought thepartytoamountainsidecreek,which the monsters crossedwith impressive speed. ThenNicodemus found himself

being carried through awildernessofswordfernsthattickled his legs. Garkexchastised the vegetation forgettingintheirway.

When they passed intoanother patch of moonlight,Nicodemussawthecold turnhisbreathintopalejetsofair.

The monsters marchedthrough meadows, alongponds, and through densethickets. Scattered throughtheforestweredeadordying

trees.Watching this scenery,Nicodemus thought aboutwhatFellwrothhadtoldhim.

Could he believe thegolem?Coulditbetruethatademon had arranged hisbirth?

Nicodemus’s heart beatfaster. From the day he hadlearned that he was acacographer, everything hadseemed to be error. Lifewasn’t what it was“supposed” to be. Hewasn’t

supposed to be a source ofmisspelled, dangerouslanguage.Hewassupposedtobe the Halcyon, thewellspring of con-structive,healingtexts.

But now it seemed thathisdisability,hismonstrosity,was exactly what was meantto have happened. He camefrom a family of demon-worshipers.Hehadbeenbredtobeamonster.

It was possible that

Fellwrothhad lied.But someinstinct deep insideNicodemus knew that thegolem had been telling thetruth.

“I won’t be a demon’spuppet!”Nicodemusgrowled,clenching his hands. Thegolem had said that those ofImperialbloodcouldbetoolsused to assist or resist theDisjunction.

Well then, he wouldbecome a weapon for the

resistance.He closed his eyes and

imagined the Emerald ofArahest.Itsbrilliant,lacriformshape appeared before him.Here was his salvation. Hewould focus his every desireon recovering the gem. Andwhenhehaditback,hismindwould be complete. Then hecouldopposetheDisjunction.

Suddenly the keloidscars on his neck grew hot.“Fieryheaven!”heswore.

Fellwroth had said thatthekeloidswerebetrayinghislocation by broadcastingspells written in a languagehe couldn’t see. But thegolemhadalsosaidthatsomeforce was diffusing thesesamespells.Hesupposed thenight terrors now carryinghimweretheforceinterferingwith the keloids’ spells. Butdespite the diffusion,Fellwroth could stillapproximatehiswhereabouts.

Therewasnoescape.And there was the

dragon to think of. What ifFellwroth truly had used theemerald to create the dragonthatattackedTrillinon?CouldNicodemus continue to liveknowing his death woulddelay another such attack?Did he have a responsibilitytokillhimself?

No, he silently vowed,hewouldnotberuledbyfear.

He closed his eyes and

cleared his mind. The imageof the emerald returned,instantly, vividly. A warmtingling spread across hisface. Instinctively, he knewthen thatwhat Fellwroth hadsaid was true—the gem wasseekingtoreturntohim.

Thethoughtofregainingthe emerald made his heartrace.

“Calm yourself,” hewhispered, struggling tocontrol his roiling emotions.

Heneeded to think logically.His next step should be tofind Deirdre and learn whathecouldfromher.

Just then the monsterscarriedhimintoapinethicketso dense that they weresurrounded by completeblackness. Even middaysunlight would not penetratehere.

Garkex puffed smallflames from his horns. Theresultant light pierced the

gloom to reveal a small cliffface that extended in bothdirections. The night terrorstramped directly toward it asifitweren’tthere.Nicodemushadjustenoughtimetothrowhis arms up before theycrashedintotherockface.

Nothinghappened.When he lowered his

hands, Nicodemus saw thattheyhadpassedrightthroughthe small cliff face onto amoonlit promontory. He

swore and looked back. Therockwall had been a fiction,an ingeniously writtensubtext.

Garkexletoutascreech,and the night terrors gentlyset Nicodemus down on apatchofmoss.

The party now stood ona knoll that overlooked amoonlit clearing scatteredwith ivy-covered stonearches, low towers, andcrumblingwalls.

Nicodemus stared.Oncethismust have had been oneof Starhaven’soutlyingChthonic villages. He hadread of how the NeosolarLegionhaddestroyedallsuchsettlements during the SiegeofStarhaven.

Butwhyhad theseruinsbeenhiddenbyasubtext?

Garkex began talkingrapidly and gesticulating atNicodemus and the Index.The other monsters bowed.

SuddenlyGarkex’s right armdissolved into a cloud ofindigorunes.

“You’re constructs!”Nicodemus exclaimed.“WrittenintheIndex’spurplelanguage.”

Thefiretrollmarchedupto Nicodemus and held outhis right hand. TentativelyNicodemus placed his ownpalm on top of theconstruct’s. Garkex saidsomething softlyashe shook

his partially deconstructedarm.Aglowing sentence fellfrom the troll’s text. Theviolet words landed on theback of Nicodemus’s handandboreintohisskin.

He cried out and jerkedhishandback.

But the firetroll waswhispering softly andpointing to his arm. Inamazement, Nicodemusturnedhishandoverandsawthat the sentence had been

tattooedontohisskin.Nicodemus knew that

everymagicallanguagecouldinscribe itself into only onetype of medium. Thecommon and wizardlylanguages took only to paperorparchment.Druidssettheirhigher languages only intowood.Thehighsmithsetchedtheir spells only on metal.And apparently whoever hadcreated the Index’s violetlanguage had tattooed their

proseintolivingskin.Slowly Garkex

disintegrated into prose andwrote himself ontoNicodemus’s forearm. It wasunsettling, but painless, towatchthespellslipunderhisskin.

When it was finished,Nicodemus marveled at theflowing script now coilingdown his hand and forearm.Next Tamelkan, the eyelessdragon, appeared before him

and began to write herselfontoNicodemus’sotherarm.

And then all of themonsters were on him,disintegrating and tattooingthemselvesintohisskin.

“Wait,”Nicodemussaid,suddenly afraid. “Not somany;I…”Hisvoicedied.

It was over. Every lastone of the night terrors wasgone.

He stared down at hishands.Hehikeduphis robes

to look at his shins.He evenpeereddownhis collar at hischest. Everywhere he wasinscribedwithflowing,violettext.

“I imagined all of youformy boyhood dreams,” hesaid while examining thelanguage on his palms. “Sohow could I have writtenyou? I learned the Index’spurple language a few hoursago,butIdreamedupGarkexwhen my voice broke, Fael

and Tamelkan when I stillhadpimples.”

He shook his head.Maybe he actually had gonemad. “How could I havewrittenyou?”

A glow made him lookup.Floatingbeforehimwasapurplespell.

“Who cast that?”Nicodemus called, lookingaround for the spell’s author.“Who’sthere?”

The night was empty

savefortherubble,silentbutforthewindinthetrees.

The spell floated towardNicodemus. He raised hishandsandsteppedback.

But the spell stoppedandunfoldedintotwoparts.

Now curious,Nicodemuspeeredatthefirstsubspell. It was aninstructional text describinghow the purple languagecould encode for writtenlanguage.

Familiar with analogousprotocols that allowedwizards to conduct silentconversations in Numinous,Nicodemus quickly graspedhowthespellfunctioned.

The second part of thepurple spell seemed to be anencodedsentence.Nicodemusgrabbed it and applied thetranslation protocol. Theresulting line read, “It wasStarhavenwhowrotethem.”

Nicodemuspuzzledover

those words until heremembered staring at thetattoos on his hand andasking, “How could I havewrittenyou?”

Again fear joltedthrough him. “Who castthis?” he repeated and againspun around in a frightenedattempttofindthemysteriousspellwright.“Who’sthere?”

No sound came, but asNicodemus turned roundagain he discovered another

purple spell floating in theair.

Tentatively, he caughtthe paragraph and translatedit.

The indigo language yourefer to is calledWrixlan.It is our language formanipulating light andtext, much like yourNuminous. Wrixlanmetaspells fill Starhaven.Your mind sought out

Wrixlan because it iseugraphic. You dreamedof these creatures, andStarhaven’s metaspellssympathetically took theshape of your dreams.When your creaturesachieved enoughintelligence, the languagegoverning Starhavenperceivedthemasathreatand so banished them.That iswhy theconstructshated you so. You had

unknowinglyexiledthem.

“Who are you?”Nicodemus’s wide eyesdartedaboutbut sawnothingbut ruins and ivy vines.“Whereareyou?”

As before Nicodemusfound another Wrixlanparagraph floating behindhim. He grabbed andtranslatedit.

I see the products of your

adolescent purple prosehave forgiven you. Theycould have storedthemselves in your livingcodex. But they will drawmore strength from yourskin.Ihavebeentryingtoconvince them to bringyouhere.

Nicodemus shook hishead. “What do you want?Showyourself!”

This time he saw the

textual response form inmidair. It looked as if thecharacters were condensingfrommoonlight.Itread,

Iwantonlya small favor.I canoffermanyanswers.Youare in no danger;weare weak. We cannotaffect the physical worldand can affect the textualworldonlyslightly.

Nicodemus swallowed

hard, realizing what thismeant.“You’redead?”

The construct appearedfirst as a soft violet glowamong the ivy vines. Thentiny indigo sparks formed inthe air and began to swarm,slowly coa-lescing into legsandatorso.

As the construct movedtowardNicodemus,itbecamemore solid and took onshades of white, indigo, andgray. But its prose never

congealed completely.Nicodemuscouldseethroughtheconstruct to thecollapsedbuildingsontheotherside.

At first glance it mighthave been mistaken for ahuman child of eight or ten.Its spindly legs presentedknobby knees and wide feet.Its slight torso was coveredbyawhitetunicthataffordeda short sleeve for the rightarmonly.

The construct didn’t

seem to have a left arm.Butits right arm was long andgraceful, with a large elbowjoint and narrow forearm. Itssingle hand was wide, itsfingerslongandslender.

The spell was climbingtowardNicodemusonanivy-covered staircase. As itmoved, it leaned forward touseitselongatedrighthandasanextrafoot.

Nicodemussteppedbackas it reached the top of the

promontory.Itsskinwaspalegray, its long hair snowywhite.

Itseyeswereaswideasa man’s fist, their pupils slitvertically like a cat’s. Itsbeaklikenosebentoverasoftchin.

It smiled to reveal flatteethandthencastaWrixlansentence into the air. “Youare correct: we are dead.Welcome, spellwright, to ourfinalrestingplace.”Itbowed.

After taking a deepbreath, Nicodemus bowed towhat could only be aChthonicghost.

CHAPTERThirty-threeA sharp knock woke Amadiin her cot. For a confusedmoment she stared at thestark white walls of herStarhaven cell. In her dreamshehadbeenwrestlingagiant

bookworm. Her nowbandagedforearmached.

The knock came againandshestruggledupfromherpallet. Outside her windowtheskywasstillblack.“Whoknocks?”

“Kale,Magistra.”“Enter,”shecalledtoher

secretary and pulled on anightrobe.

The young Ixonianslippedintotheroom.

“Kale, I shudder to see

you. I can’t have slept morethan an hour. Has thebookworm infectionreturned?”

“No, Magistra.” Theman’s eyes were wide.“Another death, one of thecacographers.”

Amadi drew in a sharpbreath.“Shannonescaped?”

“No, he’s stillimprisoned beneath theSummerTower.Nicodemus’sfemale floormate, Devin

Dorshear, is dead. BothNicodemus and the big manthey call Simple John aremissing. Near midnight theyoung cacographers heardshouting.Untilaquarterhourago,theyweretoofrightenedtoleavetheirrooms.”

Amadi swore. “But thewards.Nooneshouldbeabletogetinoroutofthattower.”

Kale pressed a hand tohis mouth. “I take fullresponsibility, Magistra. I

was the one who suggestedwe leave the towerunguarded. It seemsShannonsomehow slippedNicodemusakeyto lift thewards.I takefullresponsibility.”

“Nonsense,” Amadisnapped. “I had thecommand.”Sheturnedtoherbed chest. “Rouse thesentinels.Alertalltheguards.Iwanta searchbegunbeforeI’m fully dressed. I’llpersonallygototheprovost’s

officers.”Kale nodded and turned

togo.“But Kale, I’ll first

examine the deadcacographer. I want two ofoursentinelsonhand.Wheredidthemurderhappen?”

The man paused at thedoorandlookedback.“DrumTower,topfloor.I’llsendtwospellwrights straight away.Nothing’s been touched…butthe body, Magistra, it’s…

gruesome.”

A QUARTER HOUR after beingawakened with news ofNicodemus’s disappearance,Amadi found herself in theDrum Tower frowning at adeadlesserwizard.

Thegirl’s facehadbeencrushed by blunt words. Apuddle of drying bloodsurrounded her body. “Thekiller was a clumsyspellwright,” Amadi said to

the sentinels behind her.“Must have used a leadshotspellorsomethingsimple.”

Amadi clenched herteeth.ShewasalmostcertainShannon was guilty of somefoul play. Surely the oldwizard was in the pay of amagically illiterate noble.Why else would he havehiddensomuchmoneyinhisquarters?Whyelsewouldhebe connected to thebookworminfestation?

However,nowitseemedshe was dealing with twomurderers. “A cacographerdid this,” she said.“Nicodemusorthebigone.”

She wondered ifNicodemus had killed NoraFinn at Shannon’s behest.“You there,” she said to oneof sentinels. “Go to theSummer Tower and rouseShannon. I need somequestionsanswered.”

With a nod, the man

ducked out of the commonroom.

“Anotherstrangethingisall this dust,” Amadigrumbled, nowpacing about.Mostly the powder wasscatteredacrosstheroom,butnext to thedoor layapileofthe stuff covered by whatlookedlikeawhitebedsheet.Even stranger, one cornerheld a small mound ofsplinters.

“You,” Amadi said to

the remaining sentinel, a tallwoman with gray hair.“Search the other DrumTower residences. Tellme ifyou find similar dust orsplintersinanyotherroom.”

As the woman hurriedthrough the door, Kaleappeared. He was chewinghis lower lip. A bad sign.“Whatisit,Kale?”

“Word from thelibrarians, Magistra. One ofStarhaven’s most valuable

artifactsismissing.”“Destroyed by a

bookworm?”sheasked.The secretary shook his

head. “It was in a securechamber and the MainLibrarywasneverinfested.”

Amadi closed her eyesand took a long breath. “Letme guess: either Shannon orNicodemus was the last onetousethisartifact.”

Kale nodded. “There’smore. The artifact is a

reference codex called theIndex; it can access all textstored in Starhaven. Andwhoever has the artifact haslookedupthetouchspell.”

“And how do we knowthis?”

“Everycopyofthetouchspell in the academy is nowmisspelled.”

Amadi frowned. “Byaccessing texts through thisartifacttheuserismisspellingthem?”

Kale nodded. “And allthe misspelled touch scrollsare infectious. They causemanuscriptstouchingthemtomisspell. An entirepedagogical library in theMarfil Tower has beendestroyed.”

“Nicodemus!” Amadigrowled.“If theboyaccessesa text in the Stacks or theMain Library, he coulddestroy all of Starhaven’sholdings.”

Kalenoddedagain.Amadi swore. “First the

bookworm infestation, nowthis. Chaos incarnate hascometoStarhaven.”

“Magistra…are yousaying—”

“Doyoudoubt it,Kale?Thinkofthedisorderthathasspread across Starhaven.Think of the murders, thedeaths, the corruption. Thinkof the scar—an Inconjunctbreaking the Braid. The boy

seems destined to spreadchaos.”

Kale tooka longbreath.“We cannot be certain thecounter-prophecy is comingtopass.”

“Cannot be certain, butwe now have enoughevidencethatwemustact.”

She made for the door.“Iwillquestionthelibrarians.I want to learn more aboutthis artifact. You will go tothe Erasmine Tower and tell

the onduty officers what hashappened. If we don’t catchtheboy,hismindwillrotthepages from our books as atumor rots flesh. They mustwaketheprovostandtellhimthatmost likelywe’ve foundtheStormPetrel.”

FELLWROTH, MORECOMFORTABLE now in a newclaygolem, stole through theforest south of Starhaven.Two hours until dawn. The

air was cold, the sky black.The strengthening windroaredthroughthewoods.

Roughly an hour ago,the signaling texts fromNicodemus’s keloid hadceased entirely. At the time,Fellwroth had still beenforming a newgolemand sohad missed the chance todetermine the boy’s locationmoreprecisely.

However, it was clearthat the last signal had come

fromsomewhereinthisforest—hence Fellwroth’s current,systematic combing of themountainside. Presently, hefollowed a deer trail into anelmthicket.Hehadhopedthekeloid’s signal texts wouldrecommence, but now itseemed the boy’s newprotector was blocking themindefinitely.

Here the wind wasproducinga continuous snowof falling leaves. Fellwroth

scowled; without anotherkeloid signal, his currentsearchwasunlikely to revealanything other than moreautumnalfoliage.

A fewhoursagohehadspoken to a subtextualizedNicodemus on the road toGray’s Crossing. Had hiswords convinced the boy?Likely not. If Nicodemusmeanttosurrender,thewhelpshould have returned toStarhaven by now, and none

of Fellwroth’s rewrittengargoyleshadreportedsuch.

Fellwroth snatched afalling leafoutof theairandwondered why Nicodemushadnotacceptedhisoffer.

Only two possibilitiessuggested themselves: first,threats against Nicodemus’slife might be insufficient towin the boy’s surrender; orsecond, thewhelpmight feelsafe now that he had aprotectortoblockthekeloid’s

signals.Fellwroth crushed the

leaf and considered whomight be concealingNicodemus. Not a deity; hewould have sensed anotherdivine presence by now.Norcould it be the girl druidactingalone.

Perhapsitdidnotmatterwho was hiding Nicodemus.Perhaps he could threatensomething other than theboy’slife.

He looked towardStarhaven.Thedarkelmtreesblockedeverythingfromviewbut the loftyErasmine Spire.A slow smile pulled on hispale lips as a plan formed inhismind.

Hewouldneedtousehistruebody,anditwouldtakeaday to move everything intoplace. Even so, the planwasperfect.

The leaves were fallingfaster now. Fellwroth

laughed.He knew of at leastone thing Nicodemus valuedmorethanhislife.

“YOUGAVEHIM access to theIndex?”Amadisquawked.

Shannon was sittingcalmlyonhisprisoncell cot.The guards had written aweblike censoring spellaround the old man’s head,blocking him from allmagical language. Now hisblindnesswouldbecomplete.

Though he must havebeen exhausted, the oldwizard wore a calmexpression. “Without myanti-golem spell, Nicodemuswouldhavebeenhelpless.”

“Magister, the provosthimself suspects Nicodemusis the Storm Petrel, thechampion of chaoticlanguage.Icanhavenomorestoriesofyourclay—”

Shannon learnedforward. ThickMagnus texts

kept his wrists and legsspellbound to the wall, buttherewasenoughslackonthefettering spells to makeAmadistepbackward.

“Do you find anythingstrangeintheDrumTower?”he asked. “Maybe not clay,butanyearthenmetal,graniteorsteelor—”

“Dust,” she saidautomatically. “There was asmaller mound of splinters,but dust was all about the

commonroomandespeciallyin a pile with a torn whitesheet.”

Shannon’s blank eyeswidened. “The arm I cut offthe clay golem had a whitesleeve.”

Amadi shook her head.“Magister,thistaleofgolemsistoomuchtoswallow.Textsfromtheancientcontinent?”

“Amadi,bynaminghimthe Storm Petrel, you admitthat the bonds holding the

demons to the ancientcontinent are loosening. Andyet you refuse to accept thepossibility that magic fromthe ancient continent hasalreadycrossedtheocean.”

Amadisaidnothing.“If you had guarded the

boy properly, none of thiswould have happened,”Shannon said sternly. “Theleastyoucandonowis—”

“Enough,” Amadisnapped.“Ididguardtheboy

properlygiventhebookworminfestation. You slipped himthe key needed to escape theDrum Tower. It is you whomust clear his name. Andthere’s only one way to dothat: help us find the boy.Magister, please. Help usrecovertheIndexandcapturetheStormPetrel.”

Hescowled.Amadi took a long

breath. Perhaps the old manwasright.Perhapssheshould

not have withdrawn theguardsfromtheDrumTower.If theprovostdiscoveredthatshehadwasted thechance tocontain Nicodemus, shemightsoonjoinShannoninaprisoncell.“Canyoufindtheboy?” she asked patiently.“Do you know where hemightbe?”

Heshookhishead.“If Idid, I wouldn’t take you tohim.Byinvokingthecounter-prophecy, you have ensured

that he cannot be safe inStarhaven. The provost islikely to censor magicalliteracy out of the boy theinstanthe’sfound.”

“But you must havetaught him a cipher for abroadcastspell.”

“If I did, I should neveruse it,” Shannon snapped.“Youcouldpretendtopardonme or even stage a prisonescape.You couldwatchmethen and see if I go to him.

ButIwillneverseekhimoutsolongasIhavetheslightestsuspicion that you arefollowingme.”

Amadibegantopacethetiny cell. “Why do youprotecttheboy?”

“Have you consideredthat he might truly be theHalcyon?”

“What under heavencould suggest that he is thechampion of order inlanguage?” she asked. “His

cacographic mind that isinfectingtheentirestrongholdwith misspells? His keloidthat symbolizes increasingchaos? The death and ruinthat follow him as a stormfollowsapetrelatsea?”

“Open your eyes,Amadi! A construct ofancient language wasmurdering my students oneby one to reach him. Whoelse could bring ancientlanguagetothiscontinentbut

ademon?”Amadipursedherlips.The old man continued.

“Amadi, it is this demonicconstruct that has led you tosuspect me wrongly. Ademonic construct that hasyou worrying about thecounter-prophecy when youshouldbeworryingaboutthetrueone.”

Amadi opened hermouth, but a sharp knock atthe cell door interrupted her.

“Enter,”shecalled.Thedoorswungwide to reveal one oftheguards,ashortmanwithacurlyredbeard.

“What is it?” Amadidemanded.

“Message from yoursecretary,” the guard repliedand looked down at a greenparagraphinhishands.

“Magistra,”heread,“thedruids Deirdre and Kyrancannot be found. The druidsoftheSilentBlightdelegation

claim no knowledge of theirdisappearance.” The guardlooked up. “It’s signed byMagisterKale.”

“Los’s fiery blood!”Amadiswore.“Whatelsecangowrong?”

CHAPTERThirty-fourAs Nicodemus followed theghostly Chthonic down intothe ruined village, hereviewedeverythingheknewaboutghostwriting.

He knew it was

something powerfulspellwrightsdidwhennearingdeath. He knew the processinvolvedanadvancedformofwhat Shannon had calledimpressing: a complexNuminousmatrixwaswrittenwithin a ghostwriter’s head;over time thematrix becamea magical copy of theghostwriter’smind.A textualbodywasthenwrittenaroundthis magical mind and neverallowed outside of the

author’s living body.Eventually, author and textbecameonebeing.

Wizards ghostwrote inNuminous, and the fewghostwriters Nicodemus hadseenglowedgoldenfromheeltohead.

Nicodemus also knewthat when ghostwriters died,theirghostslivedoninatext-preserving resting place.Starhaven’s ghosts dwelledbelow the stronghold in the

necropolis.Nicodemus also

remembered that there wereseveral types of misspelledghosts.A“ghast”wasaghostthatattackedothertextsorthespellwrights who tended thenecropolis. A “ghoul” was aghostthatrefusedtoleaveitsbody, often resulting in ahalf-animatedcorpse.

Fortunately, the ghostwalking ahead ofNicodemuswas not misspelled. Though

transparent, its image andtextual integrity seemeduncorrupted—ashockingfeatforprosethathadtobenearlyathousandyearsold.

Presently, Nicodemuswasfollowingtheghostdownasteep,crumblingstairwaytothe ruined Chthonic village.Above them a growingwindwas blustering through thetrees.

“Magister,” Nicodemussaid to the ghost as they

descended, “How should Iaddressyou?”

The Chthonic soulstopped to smile atNicodemus and hand himthree purple sentences. Theyread,“YoumaycallmeTulki.Inourlanguage,‘Tulki’isthemasculine form of the wordfor‘interpreter.’Inlife,Iwasan ambassador between ourpeopleandyourancestors.”

When Nicodemuslookedupfromthismessage,

he saw the ghost studyinghim with wide amber eyes.Tulki formed another twosentences in hisarm and heldthem out. “I am assumingyour ancestors were of theNeosolar Empire. You weartheblackrobes.”

After reading this,Nicodemushugged the Indexcloser to his chest. TheNeosolar Empire hadslaughtered the Chthonicswith the help of a young

NuminousOrder.“IwasbornSpirish,”hesaid.

Tulki nodded and wrotehis reply: “Yes, I realize theNeosolar Empire collapsedlongago.Iheardoncethatitwas modeled after the SolarEmpire on your ancientcontinent. I would like tohave learnedmore. But now,followme.”

The ghost’s silkenponytail flew over hisshoulder as he turned and

loped forward on all threelimbs. Nicodemus followedthe soul into the rubble andivy.

As they went, the ghosttossed a paragraph over hisshoulder. Nicodemus nearlyslippedashehurriedtocatchand read the passage. “Youshouldknowthatourmagicallanguages will be rough onyour skin. When thoseconstructs leave your body,theywill scorewelts on you.

Nothing permanent. That iswhy Chimera, our goddess,gavemypeoplesuchdelicateandpaleskin.Whenalive,wecould painlessly write andremove spells from our skin.Butthismadeourhidesweak.It was one reason why yourancestors eradicated us soeasily.”

Reading this madeNicodemusslowdown.

The ghost stopped andlooked back at Nicodemus

before tossing him a shorttext.“Don’tbealarmed;Iamnotangry.Iassumeyouareascholar as well. Aren’t youhereforresearch?”

After he finishedreading, Nicodemus lookedup.“Research?”

Tulki quickly offeredanotherparagraph.“Youareaeugrapher researchingeugraphic languages, no?Bothourlanguages—Wrixlanand Pithan—are eugraphic.

What else would bring youhere?Youhavealivingtomethereinyourhand.”

NicodemuslookedattheIndex.“Livingtome?”

Theghostfrownedasheproducedanotherreply.“ThatIndex’s parchment is keptalive by its First Languageprose. Maybe you don’tknow: our languages can bewritten only on living skin.Your constructs chose tostore themselves on your

bodyratherthanintheIndex;theywillbemuchstrongerforit. That is the beauty of ourlanguages: we canmake ourbodiestextual.”

Nicodemus looked fromthe Index to the ghost. “Idon’tunderstand.”

The ghost’s chest roseandfellinasilentsighbeforehe held out a reply: “Yourliving tome taught youWrixlan, one of ourlanguages,becauseyouarea

eugrapher,yes?”“Iamacacographer.”Tulki shook his head as

he wrote a response. Heflicked it to Nicodemus.“That iswhatour last visitorsaid so long ago. Butconsider that all eugraphersmisspell in the wizardlylanguages. They try to makethe spelling logical. Thatiswhy your mind is attractedto Wrixlan; it is logical andtherefore eugraphic. Do you

not spell more accurately inWrixlan?”

“I…I did respell asubtext,”Nicodemussaidandthen stopped as somethingoccurred to him. He lookedback at his translation of theghost’s message.Surprisingly, it seemed tohave no misspellings. True,his disability prevented himfrom recognizing manymisspelled words; however,when he translated in

Numinous, he produced somany errors that even hiscacographic mind couldidentify the resultingmisspellings.

“Celestial Canon,” hesworesoftly.“DoesthismeanI’mnotacacographerinyourpurplelanguage?”

Now smiling, the ghostformedareplyinhisarmandheld itout.“That’s right.Mypeoplehaveknownforalongtime that the condition you

call ‘cacography’ is amismatch between languageand mind. Wizardly spellingisarbitrary.Becauseyouarea cacographer, your mindrejects that arbitrariness. Infact, your mind is drawn tolanguages with logicalspellings, such as Wrixlan.That is why your dreamswrotetheconstructsthatnowscore your skin. And that iswhytheIndextaughtyouourlanguage. You are sure you

did not come here forresearch?”

After reading this,Nicodemus looked upnervously. “No, Magister,I’m not a researcher. But IwanttolearnmoreaboutwhyI’m not a cacographer in…”He let his voice trail off asTulki began to compose areply.

Theghostforgedseveralsentenceswithinhis forearm,stopped, erased two

sentences, edited a fewothers, and then continuedforging.

Nicodemus fidgetedimpatiently until Tulki heldout a completed response. Itread,“ThenImustapologize.When I found the delightfulnightterrorsyouhadwritten,Iwassuretheirauthorwouldone day discover a Wrixlantome and so learn to see hisown dark fantasies. Nearlythree hundred years ago we

were visited by anothereugrapher—a passionateyoung male. He wanted tolearn everything abouteugraphy.Helookedlikeyou.But, then again,most humanmales look alike to me.However, returning to mypoint,maybetenyearsago,Idiscoveredyourconstructs inthe forest and tried toconvince them to bring youhere if they ever found you.Butmostwereadamantabout

wanting to—pardon myfrankness—eatyou.”

“Eat me?” Nicodemuslaughedinsurprise.

Tulki nodded and heldout another paragraph.“Thankfullytheyledyouhereinstead. My apologies forwhatmightnowseemlikeanabduction.Butifyou’renotaresearcher…that changeseverything.NowIfearforthesixty-three other ghostsdwelling here. I had hoped

you might help us. Threecenturies have passed sincethat last eugrapher visited.He refreshed our texts inexchange for our teachings.Longbeforehim,wereceivedChthonic spellwrights fromtheHeavenTree.Butitseemsthe mountain homestead hasperished.”

Nicodemus’s eyeswidened. “The Heaven Treeis real? The Chthonicsescaped across the Spindle

Bridge?Isthatwhatitisusedfor?”

The ghost smiled. “Soyou are curious! Before Ianswer, I wonder if you willreplenish our spectral codex—the living book that holdsour ghostly texts. We simplyrequire the touch of aWrixlan spellwright. Inreturn, I will answer all thequestionsyoumayhave.”

Nicodemusthoughtforamoment. “A murderous

creaturecalledagolem—itissomething like a construct—is huntingme. Can you hideme?”

Tulki’ssmilefaded.Theghost formed a sentence inhispalmandstaredatitforamoment before tossing it toNicodemus.Itread,“Areyouacriminaloralegionary?”

“Neither,” Nicodemusreplied.

This time Tulki’sresponsecamequickly.“Then

I will not ask why it ischasing you. You may sharethat when you are ready.However, I must know howthis construct is trackingyou?”

Nicodemus touched thebackofhisneck.“There isacurse laid upon me thatbroadlycastsasignaltext.”

The ghost smiled again.“Then we can help. In thisplace lies our most powerfulliving tome. Translating its

name was difficult. The termthe legionaries chose was‘Bestiary.’ It is a great bookthat hides these ruins with avisual subtext, which yousurely already saw. TheBestiary also fills this placewithanancientmetaspellthatdeconstructs any magicalliteratureattemptingtoleave.So your curse’s signalingspell will not escape thisrestingplace.”

Nicodemus took a deep

breathinrelief.Tulkinoddedvigorously

as he presented anotherparagraph.“What’smore,anynon-Wrixlan construct willrapidly deconstruct if itentershere.Likelythisgolemwould suffer the same if itcamehere.Yournightterrorsunderstood how dangerousthis place is for constructs;that is why they inscribedthemselves on your skin assoonasyouarrived.Partsof

themareWrixlan,butmostlythey consist of Pithan—ourlanguage that affects themundane world, like yourMagnus. If you replenishourspectral codex, we shallhappily allow you to stay inthissanctuary.”

Nicodemus nodded.“Then we have anagreement.”

The ghost glowedbrighter as he smiled. “Mostwonderful. What shall I call

you?”“NicodemusWeal.”“Nicodemus Weal, you

might find it agreeable todwellwithusforalongtime.We have much to teach.Wouldyouliketolearnaboutourpeople?”

When Nicodemus saidhe would, the ghoststraightenedwithprofessorialpride. “Then follow me as Iexplain,” Tulki wrote andthen began to lope further

into the ruins on all threelimbs,pausingonlybrieflytocast another paragraph: “I’llstartwiththeHeavenTree;itdoes exist deep in themountains.There was abridge that led to it. But ourmetaspells and the blueskinconstructshavesinceblockedthe way. No human mayreachtheHeavenTreeValleynow.”

Nicodemus haddifficulty reading while

walking among the stones.The Chthonic, however, hadno trouble writing andnavigating the rubble. Theghost moved easily with histhin right arm acting as athirdleg.

“Did you lose your leftarm in the war against theNeosolar Empire?”Nicodemusaskedtentatively.

Tulki stood and lookedback with an amusedexpression. “No, no,” the

ghost wrote. “All our peoplehave only one ‘arm,’ as youcall it. Indeed, that was achiefreasonwhyourpeopleswenttowar.”

“But how could such a—”Hisvoicedied.

The ghost hadunbuttoned his tunic wherethe garment covered his leftshoulder.A long, ashen limbunfolded. A membrane ofskin stretched from shoulderto wrist. The four fingers

hung two or three feet long,and between them grew thesamemembranousskin.

Tulki formed a sentencein this sail of skin. Then theghost peeled the text off andcast the spell to Nicodemus.It read, “Translating ourword for this ‘arm’ isdifficult. Your closest wordmightbe‘palette.’”

Tulki formed anotherparagraph within themembranous skin and then

cast it to Nicodemus.“Appreciate that more skingives aWrixlan authormorewriting space. You black-robes carry books to holdmoretext.Butourbodiesareour texts. Long ago, ourancestors dwelled under themountains with thegreenskins and blueskins.Then the first Chthonic tribecreated our dialects. It wasthen that the goddessChimera helped shape our

bodies to escape the brutalunderworldoftheblueskins.”

“Blueskins?”Tulki took amoment to

composeareply.“Yourwordforthemis‘kobolds,’,andforgreenskins, ‘goblins.’ Theytoowriteontheirbodies.Buttheir hides are tough, theirdialects savage. They brandthemselves. Our dialectsrequire elegance. Ourgoddess used the FirstLanguagetoadaptourbodies

to our words. Our skinbecamesoftandamenable toPithan and Wrixlan; wewrotemoreandmoreonourleft arms, and so we neededmoreandmoreskin.”

Theghostnodded tohispalettebeforecastingthenextparagraph. “ThroughChimera’s First Language,our left arms grew intopalettes. You see why ourancestors thought each othermonstrous. A Chthonic born

withtwoarmswouldbelikeahumanbornwiththree.”

Nicodemus could onlynod.

Tulki looked to the skyandthentossedouttwoquicksentences: “Dawn is not far.We must go underground.”With that, he hurried furtherintotherubble.

Following as quickly ashe could, Nicodemus asked,“But what ofWrixlan beingeugraphic? Can it cure my

cacography in the wizardlylanguages?”

Without slowing, Tulkithrew a reply over oneshoulder.“No,butIdon’tseewhatthereisto‘cure,’asyousay.”

By the time Nicodemushad finished reading this,Tulki had ducked inside anancientbuilding thatstillhadmuch of its roof.Nicodemusfollowed and discovered thatinside the hovel a set of

narrow stairs led down intodarkness.

The ghost’s body beganto shed a soft, indigo light.“Mind your big feet,” hewarnedwithaquickspellandthen descended the stairs.“We hope you will stay withus and replenish our codexmanytimesovertheyears.Toremain hidden from theconstruct, you must stayundergroundduringtheday.”

“Why?” Nicodemus

asked while negotiating thetinysteps.

“Because bright light,especially sunlight,deconstructs Wrixlan. Yourancestors used this toslaughter us. By night, wepossessed spells as powerfulas any human text. But byday, we were defenseless.How we used to dread thedawnwhen the blood-hungrylegionarieswouldcome.”

Theyreachedthebottom

ofthestairsandnowstoodina rectangular cellar with alow ceiling and blank stonewalls.“Youmustloatheme,”Nicodemuswhispered.

Tulki smiled. “On thecontrary,NicodemusWeal, ifyou replenish our text, youwill become one of the fewhumans I have ever trulyliked.”

CHAPTERThirty-fiveThe ghost pointed to a smallstone vault and then tossedNicodemus a sentence. “Ourspectral codex is stored inthere.”

Nicodemus lifted the

vault’s lid and foundabook,nearlytheIndex’stwin,lyingatthebottom.

A glowing note fromTulki appeared next toNicodemus’s hand. It read,“Youneedonlyplaceahandon an open page. It mighthave a disorienting effect.Several hours may passwithout your noticing. Youmight see flashes from ourpast—thecodexalsocontainsahistoryofourpeople.”

Nicodemus lookedupatthe ghost. “Will it make mesick?”When theghost raisedhis eyebrows, he explainedhow touching the Index forthe first time made himvomit.

The ghost shook hishead. “Thatwas because theIndex forced Wrixlan intoyour mind. That will not bethecasehere.The Index isatome; this book is a simplecodex.However,whenthesky

lightens I must return to itspages. We Wrixlan ghostsnever express ourselvesoutside of a manuscriptduring the day. The risk ofexposureistoogreat.”

Nicodemusthoughtforamoment. “Before I begin,perhaps you could explainone more thing: youmentioned something calledtheFirstLanguage.”

Tulki wrote severalsentences but then scratched

hischinandbeganediting.Nicodemus tried not to

fidgetashewaited.When the response was

finished, Tulki held it outwhile looking Nicodemus inthe eye. It read, “The othereugrapherfromlongagoalsoasked about this. But I can’tsatisfymuchofyourcuriosity.I know the First Languagechanged our ancestors’bodies. I know FirstLanguage prose keeps our

livingbooksalive.ButthatisallIknow.OnlybyengagingaBestiarycouldonelearntheFirst Language. And onlyhigh priests were allowed toread a Bestiary in life. Weghosts won’t violate the oldways;noneofuswillengageourBestiary.”

Nicodemus thoughtabout this and then asked,“Andwhy call it aBestiary?Does the book describeanimals?”

The ghost shook hisheadandwrote,“Idon’tthinkso.Ithinkitwasaproblemoftranslation. The Bestiarycontains knowledge of theFirst Language. In fact, thecenterofanyChthoniccolonyisaBestiary.Ithastobethatway, because a Bestiaryhelped us change to surviveinanewrealm.”

“Andsotheseruinswereto be a new colony? That’showyoucamehere?”

Tulki wrote for amoment and then handedNicodemus two paragraphs.“Not quite. This place wasonlyatown,destroyedduringthe first siege. We ghostswere stranded here whenStarhaven finally fell. Whenthe legionaries breached thewalls, several Chthonicwarriors took our Bestiaryand dashed southward. TheyhopedtoreachtheIronWoodor the Grysome Mountains

and establish a new colony.They brought with them twospectral codices. One wasfilled with artistic andpriestlyghosts,theotherwithpolitical and scholarlyghosts. I was stored in thelatter.

“But the humans caughttheescapepartyatdawn.Theensuing battle destroyed thecodex holding the priestlyghosts. The living Chthonicswho survived the human

attack brought the Bestiaryand the remaining spectralcodex here to these ruins.After helping the Bestiary towrite the protecting subtextsandmetaspells,thelivingranfor the mountains and theHeaven Tree…they nevermadeit.”

Nicodemus paused for arespectful moment beforespeaking. “And is your FirstLanguage related toLanguagePrime?”

The text gave him aquizzicallook.

Nicodemus tried toexplain. “Language Prime isthe Creator’s language, thelanguage of the first words,thesourceofallmagic.”

The ghost frowned andheldoutafewsentences.“AsIsaid,Iamnopriest.ButIdoremember the NeosolarEmpire labeled the FirstLanguage as blasphemous.They said we were trying to

alter the Creator’s text orsomenonsense.Theyusedtheidea that we were distortingholy language to justify theirbloodlust.”

Nicodemusreadthisandthen said, “I must learnwhatever I can aboutLanguage Prime. Your FirstLanguagemightbesimilartoit.IstheBestiarynearby?”

Theghostlickedhislipsbeforenodding.

“Am I capable of

readingit?”Tulki wrote a response

and hesitantly held it out.“Yes…oneneedsonlyfluencyin Wrixlan to engage thetome…but I fear I cannot letyoudoso.”

“Your religion forbidsit?Isitdangerous?”

The Chthonic shook hishead. “There is a littledanger, but not much. Andthe old ways do not prohibithumans from reading it.But,

you see, we allowed the lasteugrapher to read theBestiary. After engaging thetext, he grew fractious. Hesoonleftandneverreturned.”

NowitwasNicodemus’sturntobepuzzled.“Whatdidhelearnfromthebook?”

The ghost cast a replyand then looked at his feet.“Hewouldnotsay.”

Nicodemus suddenlyunderstood. “You fear thatwhatever upset the previous

cacographer will upset meand I won’t replenish yourspectralcodex.”

“Please don’t be angry.Ifyoudonothelpus,wewilldeconstruct.”

“I see your dilemma.How about a trade? I willreplenishyourcodexnowandpromise to return in thefuture. In exchange, youwillletmeengagetheBestiary.”

The ghost peered intoNicodemus’s face and then

composed his script. “Yes,that could work. Let us talkmore after you refresh ourtext. But remember, if it isafter sunrisewhenyouwake,I will not be here. Wait fornight and do not build a fireor cast any harshilluminating text. I willreturn.”

“Agreed,” Nicodemussaid,andturnedtoregardthespectralcodexthatlaywithinits stone vault. Its brasswork

gleameddully.“Idothistodemonstrate

my good faith.” He openedthebookandplantedhishandontheopenpage.

EVERYTHING BLAZED WHITEand then faded into black.SuddenlyNicodemuswasnothimself. Nor was he in hisowntime.

He was a youngChthonic male pausing fromhis early evening spellwork.

His bare feet stood on thenewly built tower bridge. Itsstones were still warm fromthe summer sunlight. Helooked east. Before himstretchedthedustyexpanseoffelledtreesandrockpiles.

Soon they would buildtowers there aswell, and thecitywould grow even larger.Farther away stood themoonlit mountains. In themiddleof thesheerrockfacegaped a wide tunnel that ran

intothemountain.He remembered that

long ago his ancestors hadbuiltthattunneltoescapetheunderworld. But sometimes,blueskin raiders had comescreamingoutofthetunneltostealfood,tools,andfemales.His people had ledcounterstrikes down thetunnel to kill the offendingblueskins and take others asslaves.

But now a truce had

been made. Wards had beenwrittenwithinthecavemouthtorestrictpassage.Hispeoplehad filled the entrance withtheir metaspells, and theblueskins had matched thiswith thousands of theirdigging tortoise constructs.Nowonlyofficialdelegationscould pass between theupperworld and theunderworld.

In celebration of thistruce, his people were

decorating the rockface. Acarving of ivy leaves was torepresent his people’smetaspells because ivy, likehiskind,grewfromstonysoiland could climb to greatheights. A carving of atortoiseshellwastorepresenttheblueskin’swarconstructs.

The truce required bothhis people and the blueskinsto meet at the cave mouthevery year to renew theagreements of the peace.

Some of his people weredispleased with the truce;they wanted easier access totheHeavenTreehomestead.

But most were content,andtheyearlyrenewalof thetruce was a celebratedholiday.Someeven spokeofbuilding a bridge out to thetunnel.

However, a growingnumber of elders—rememberingthehorrorstheyhad seen before they left the

underworld—arguedthattheyshould abandon the HeavenTree and collapse the tunnel.Only this, they said, wouldend all contact with theblueskinsandsopermanentlystoptheraids.

Without warning theworld again dissolved intoblinding white light. For amoment Nicodemus washimself again…but theneverythingchanged.

HewasnowaChthonic

elder standing on a sunlitbridge in a completedStarhaven. Many years hadpassed. Before him stretchedtheSpindleBridge.Itreachedout from Starhaven to landagainstthesolidcliffface.Hecould see the ivypattern andthe tortoise pattern carvedintotherock.

Butthetunnelwasgone.The bridge ran into solidstone. He tried to rememberwhat had happened to the

tunnel but found his mindwas filled with terror. Heshifted his palette limbunderneath his tunic andlooked westward. Movingacross the oak savanna weretwo red squares, each amileinwidthandlength.

Sunlight glinted offhelmets and spear points.Thesewere theFifth and theNinth Neosolar Legions.TheyhadcometolaysiegetoStarhaven.

He pulled his palettecloser and cursed thesunlight. The hour had comeatlast.Inamatterofdays,heandallhispeoplewoulddie.

“Nicodemus!” someonecalled faintly.“Niiicooodeeemus!”

Abruptly Nicodemuswas himself again, standingin the small Chthonic cellar.HishandwashoveringabovethelivingcodexthatheldtheWrixlan ghosts. Tulki was

gone. Looking back, he sawsunlight shining on the stepsthat led up to the ruinedChthonic outpost. It wasmorning.

“Niiicooodeeemus!” Hisname came again from adistantfemalevoice.

Hishearttightened.Howhad she found him? He wassupposedtobehidden.

ThenherememberedtheSeed of Finding. The lastsignal text itwouldhavecast

would have been from justoutside the ruins. She musthave reached that spot andstartedcallingout.

“Niiicooodeeeeeemus!”sheyelledagain.

Deirdre!

CHAPTERThirty-sixNicodemus woke to seeDeirdre padding down thecellar stairs.A lone sunbeamhad slipped through thetatteredceilingtolandonthesteps. As the druid walked

through the light, the swordstrapped to her back glintedsolarwhite. Shewas holdingup the front of her robes tomake a basket; on the palecloth rested small pieces ofdarkness. Nicodemus pickeduptheIndexandwenttoher.

“Clear sky, cold andwindy,” she whispered asthey squatted by the nearbywall. “Reminds me of thebright autumn days in theHighlands.” She had folded

her legs so the nest ofblackberriessatinherlap.

NicodemussetdowntheIndex and watched withsingle-minded anticipation asher dark fingers extracted amound of berries andoverturned them into hiscuppedhands.

“John will need sometoo,”hesaid.

On the other side of thecellar,thebigmanwascurledup on Nicodemus’s cloak.

Getting him to sleep thatmorninghadbeenastruggle.

Shortly afterNicodemushadbroughtDeirdreandJohnback to the ruins, the bigman’switshadreturnedwithasquallofterrorandtears.Atfirst, he had screamed everytimeNicodemus had touchedhim.Buteventuallyhelettheyoungermanpullhimintoanembrace. Then John hadbegun to repeat the name“Devin…Devin…Devin…”

overandover.Nicodemus had wept

with him until exhaustionpulledthembothintosleep.

“I set several rabbitsnares,” Deirdre whispered,feeding herself a berrybetween words. “With luck,evening will see us withdinner.” She searchedNicodemus’sface.“Nowthatwe know more about theChthonics, have youdiscovered anything about

that dream you toldme of—the one of Fellwrothsurrounded by ivy andturtles? Any clue where themonster’struebodyisnow?”

Nicodemus shook hishead. “I thought the bodymust be in a cavewhere theSpindle Bridge meets themountain. There must besome connection to the ivyand hexagon patterns carvedintothemountainface.Butinthe Chthonic visions, I saw

that the cave into themountain haddisappearedafter the SpindleBridge was built. AndShannon probed the rockbefore the bridge and foundnothing.Theremustbe someother connection. It’sfrustrating.Ican’tconsulttheghostsagainuntiltonight.”

He popped a blackberryinto his mouth and stareddown at the tattoos thatcovered his hands and

forearms. It was strange tothink about Garkex and theother night terrors beingwrittenacrosshisbody.

Deirdre was stillstudying him. “The dreamsmight not matter. We’ll besafe when we reach mygoddess’sark.Whenwillyoube ready to run to Gray’sCrossing?”

Nicodemus paused, aberryathislips.“WhenImetthe golem, it was coming up

fromGray’sCrossing.”He had told Deirdre

about his strangedreams, hisencounterwithFellwroth,andhis dealings with theChthonic ghost. But he hadnot told her what Fellwrothhad said about the strugglebetween two factions—onedemonic, one divine—tobreed a Language Primespellwright.

“Fellwroth must bewatching Gray’s Crossing,”

he continued. “He mightanticipate our trying to reachyourgoddess’sark.”

Deirdre shook her head;her raven hair gleamed evenin the half-light. “A dozenarmeddevotees—twoofthemdruids—guardthestone.Andit’s well hidden; Fellwrothwouldn’tknowwhere to findit.”

Herwide eyeswidened;her dark cheeks flusheddarker.“Nicodemus,we

are so close now. Mygoddess can sense younearing. She longs to protectyou.”

Nicodemus put theblackberry in his mouth andchewed it slowly. “Deirdre,whoisyourgoddess?”

A soft smile curled herlips. “She is Boann of theHighlands, not a powerfuldeity, but awatergoddessofunsurpassedbeauty,adwellerof the secret brooks and

streams that flow among thebouldersandtheheather.”

Nicodemus thoughtaboutwhatFellwrothhadtoldhim. “Does she have manyImperials—those that looklikeus—inherservice?”

“Afew,”shesaid,eatinganother berry. “My familyhas done so for time out ofmind. In the Lowlands, mycousins serve her. But youmustunderstand that she isaDralish deity. The Lornish

occupy the Highlands still.Thoseofusholdingtotheoldwaysmusthide—”

Nicodemus interrupted.“Does she direct your familyas to whom they mightmarry?”

This made Deirdre’seyebrows sink. “We nevermarrywithoutherblessing.”

“Isshetryingtoproducea Language Primespellwright?”

“LanguagePrime?”

“Maybeshecalledit theFirst Language. Have youheardofthat?”

Deirdreonlyfrowned.“No, you haven’t. But

did your goddess know thatTyphon had crossed theocean? Has she beenstruggling against him forlong?”

“Nicodemus, what areyoudrivingat?”

He looked down.“Nothing. Only thinking

aloud.”Fellwroth had said that

those opposing theDisjunction—the Alliance ofDivine Heretics—would killNicodemus on sight. ButNicodemus distrusted themonster. If the Alliancewanted a Language Primespellwright so badly, theymight be willing to helpNicodemus recover themissing part of himself inreturnforhisservice.

For this reason,Nicodemus hoped thatDeirdre’s goddess was amember of the Alliance.ClearlyDeirdre did notwanthim dead; she could havebrokenhisnecklongago.

The problem was thatDeirdre didn’t seem to knowabout Language Prime orwhether her goddess was amemberofthisAlliance.

But then again, shemight know more than she

was letting on. Nicodemusneeded a way to learn moreabouther.

Suddenly the blackberryinhismouthbecamesour.Heknew what he had to do.“Deirdre,” he said softly,“Kyranisdead.”

She looked away. “Iknow.”Theroom’sfaintlightglowedonhersmoothcheeksand accentuated her youthfulappearance.

Nicodemus continued,

“He died fighting Fellwrothin the compluvium…savedmy life. He gave me thisscript.” Holding out hisemptyrighthand,Nicodemuspulled Kyran’s final spellfrom his chest with his left.“He asked that I give it toyou.”

Deirdre looked down athisrighthandandthenaway.“Read it to me,” shewhispered.

Nicodemus’s heart

began to strike. “I’d ratheryoutakeit.”

Again she looked at hisright hand and shook herhead.“Please,readittome.”

Asilentpause.“Deirdre,” Nicodemus

said gently, “you’reilliterate.”

She looked at him as ifhe had turned into a frog. “Ilearned to read fifty yearsbeforeyouwereborn.”

“Notmundanelanguage,

magical language. You can’tread even the commonmagical languages. You’renotadruid.”

She started to say onething and then stopped.Started to say another,stopped. “How did youknow?”shemanagedatlast.

“When I told you ofKyran’s spell, you looked atmyrighthand.”Henoddedtothe hand in question, whichhe had stretched out as if

offeringsomething.Shefrowned“And?”“I’m holding the text in

myleft.”

“THERE WERE OTHER clues,”Nicodemus added. “Yourdictioniswrong.Yourefertospells and text as ‘magic’—no spellwright would usesuch a general term. Younever unbuttoned yoursleeveswhenwewerefleeingStarhaven. You claimed to

wield a different kind ofmagic, but any kind ofspellwriting would requireyoutolookatyourarms.Andthen there’syourgreatsword.Amanofsixfeetwouldneedboth hands just to lift thatweapon.You toss it about asifitwereafeather.”

Deirdre closed her eyesandpressedaslenderhandtoher cheek. “Only the druidswere called to theconvocation. I couldn’t get

into Starhaven without thedisguise.”

Nicodemussaidnothing.She looked at the

stairwell. The sunbeam wasmoving up the steps. Maybethree hours had passed sincemidday. “I am Boann’savatar. Do you know whatthatmeans?”

“Theology was thoughttobewastedoncacographers.Ionlyknowwhattheysayinthestories.”

She nodded. “Deitiessometimes invest worthydevotees with portions oftheir souls. Just as golemscarry the spirits of theirauthors,we avatars carry thesoulsofourdeities.Ifwediebefore our divine souls candisengage, then part of thedivinity dies with us. Andthose who carry souls of thehigh gods and goddessesbecome the heroes of yourstories—warriors with

impenetrableskin,bardswithhypnoticvoices,andsoon.”

She smiled sadly.“Boann is nothing sopowerful. My gifts aresimple: I do not age, I healwithextraordinaryspeed,andforabrieftimeImaypossessthe strength of ten or elevenmen.”

Nicodemus wasconfused. “Why did youcomelookingforme?”

“What I said before is

true. Last spring, Boannordered me to attend theStarhaven convocationwhereI would find a ‘treasurewrappedinblack.’Youaskedif she knew of Typhon.Perhaps she did and didn’ttell me. Now that I think onit, she must have known thedemon had hidden you here.Whyelsesendme?”

Nicodemusglancedbackto make sure the Index stilllay behind him. “Deirdre, I

didn’t tell you everythingFellwroth told me.” Heexplained what he knewabout Language Prime andthe monster’s claim abouttwofactionsstrivingtobreeda Language Primespellwright.

Deirdrelistenedwithherhead restingagainst thewall.When he finished, she spokeina flat,exhaustedvoice.“Iftheydoexist, theAllianceofDivine Heretics is well

named. The belief that thereis no savior—noHalcyon forthewizards, noPeregrine forthe druids, no Cynosure forthehierophants—isperilouslyheretical. It denies allprophecies, and the highdeities use those propheciesto justify their ruleover theirkingdoms.Thehereticalgodswouldneed to remainhiddenand wage their war againsttheDisjunctioninsecret.”

She closed her eyes. “I

can’tsayifanyofthisistrueornot;norcanIsayifBoannis a party to this Alliance.”She paused. “Though hersending me here to rescueyoumakesitseemprobable.”

“But you’re her avatar;shouldn’t you know herintentions?”

Deirdre produced aquavering sigh. “I am indeedBoann’savatar.Heronlyone.But…a year ago, I lost herlove.”

Nicodemus hugged hisknees to his chest and saidnothing.

She took a long breath.“The savage LornishKingdomoccupiesmynativeHighlands. But there aremanyamonguswho fight torestoreourhome-landstothecivil forests of Dral. Nearlyforty years ago, I becameBoann’s avatar in thisstruggle.”

Shewasbreathingfaster

now, her cheeks flushing. “Iwasmarriedwhenshecalled.IhadtwosonsIloveddearly.But when the goddesscommanded me to go, I leftwithout hesitation. Yearslater, my husband died withnothing but hatred for me.ButyoumustunderstandhowperfectBoann’sloveis.”

The woman’s face hadgrown tense.Her eyes shonewith a light that Nicodemushadoncemistakenforsimple

excitement.She took the greatsword

from her back and set it onthe ground. “From time totime, Dralish druids sneakintotheHighlandstofightforour inde-pendence. Kyrancame to me two years ago.His nephew was a famousHighland brigand whoceaselessly attacked theLornish. The Highlanderscalled him the White Fox.The Lowlanders had worse

names for him and markedhis wife and sons for death.So Kyran came across theborder to smuggle hisnephew’s family into Dral.My goddess, hating Lornishrule,wasmorethanhappytohelp.”

Deirdre looked at thesteps again. “But the Paladinof Garwyn attacked duringour crossing into Dral. Imanaged to save Kyran andhisnephew,butnottherestof

the family. The paladinslaughteredthem.”

She shook her head. “ItookKyranandtheFoxbackto one of my clan’s secretholdings. Imanaged tosneakthe brigand back into Dral,but Kyran was too badlywounded. He stayed with usfor a year. Boann knewbut…” She swallowed.“Boann had forbidden me totakealover,and…”

Nicodemus made a soft

sound.“She discovered my

infidelity. Some part of memusthaveknownshewould.She withdrew much of hersoul from me. For anagonizing season,I wasmortal again. And thoughKyran and I ceased to belovers, Boann stayed away.He and I dedicated ourselvestowinningherforgiveness.”

Nicodemus touched herknee. “But he didn’t love

Boann;helovedyou.”She laughed

humorlessly. “Was it soobvious? Yes, he dedicatedhimselftohelpingmerecoverBoann’s affection eventhough it meant helping meforgetmyloveforhim.Itwasa selfless, stupid thing to do.In away, Iwas unfaithful tohimaswell.Itriedtoexplainthat the love he and I sharedwasflawed,human.”

The avatar wiped her

eyeswitha sleeve.“Howweused to argue. Torturedcircles, around and around.He claimed that he—unlikeBoann—would never punishmeorwithholdhis love.Thepoor fool. Likely, he wasright. It was frightening howwildlyhe lovedme.But…hecouldn’t understand thatperfectlovedoesexist.”

Nicodemuswithdrewhishand as he rememberedKyran’s death. The man’s

eyes had burnedwith agony.Nicodemus had thought thepainwasbornofthestomachwound.Nowhesawwhathadtruly tortured the druid.“Don’t be like me, boy,”Kyran had growled. “Beanything;bewild,be saintly,be wicked. Love all or lovenone,butdon’tbelikeme.”

Deirdrewasstilltalking.“After Kyran and I prayedand fasted, Boann called meback to her ark and invested

nearlyallofhersoulintome.But it has never again beenlikeitoncewas.Nowshenolonger trusts me. Now whenour wills diverge she…sendsme into seizures and takescontrolofmybody.”

The woman wiped hereyes again. “I should begrateful. Back in Starhaven,Fellwroth’s golem trappedme.Themonsterwouldhavekilled me if Boann hadn’tcontrolledmybodythrougha

seizure.And I am grateful…but sometimes I don’t knowwho I am. Sometimes I feelasifmyheartisnotmyown,asifIamonlyavesselforthedesiresofothers.”

Nicodemus leanedtowardher.“Andyoubelievethat if you bring me toBoann’s ark, she will trustyouagain?”

The lines aroundDeirdre’s eyes smoothed.“Yes.”

In her gaze Nicodemussawadesire so strong that ithad become emptiness. Shehad lost part of herself. Shewas disabled in love. Just ashewouldbe incompleteuntilhe regained his ability tospell, she would beincompleteuntil sheregainedherperfectlove.

“And so Kyran and Icame to Starhaven to atone,”shesaid.“Lastspring,Boannorderedus to join thedruidic

delegation that was passingthrough the Highlands. Webrought many of Boann’sdevotees and her ark. Theother druids, the ones wecouldn’t go to when fleeingStarhaven, are the truediplomats who came withconcerns about the SilentBlight.They do not trust us;theytoleratedusonlybecausethey could not refuse agoddess’srequest.”

The woman’s fingers

clenchedintofists.“Wemustgo to Boann as soon aspossible.”

Nicodemus frowned.“But Ihavequestions for theChthonics. I might learnsomethingmoreofLanguagePrime. Besides, Fellwrothmust be watching Gray’sCrossing.Wehavetowait—”

“No!” Deirdre’s sharpretort made Simple John stirinhissleep.

“No,”shecontinuedina

lowered voice. “If you don’tcome, Boann may send meintoanotherseizure.Shemayforceme todo things Idon’twant to.”Shewas lookingathimnowwitheyeswidewithfear.

Nicodemus felt hishands go cold. “You haven’tabducted me yet, Deirdre.You could have easily doneso.Yourgoddessmust knowitwouldbefoolish.Fellwrothwouldfindus.”

Deirdre pressed atrembling hand to her chin.“Before I met Kyran, I wassure of everything. ‘Deirdrewry-smile’ they called me.You must have seen itsometime.Iusedtowearthatsmilelikearmor.MyloveforBoann was so true that Ifound mortals—with theirdithering uncertainties—somehow amusing. But nowthe half-smile runs off myfacelikewater.”

“You wore that smilewhenImetyou.”

“I have embraced everysacrifice Boann required,”she continued, “leaving myhusband,mysons,thesocietyof other mortals. I did notmissthemsolongasIbaskedin her love. But now…nowthat Kyran has died becauseI…”

She squeezed her eyesshut. “And such horribledreams I have—dreams of

standing on a riverbank andbeing stabbed somehowby awolf with a man’s head andglowingredeyes.”

Nicodemus’s headbobbed back. “In aHighlandriver?”

Shenodded.Nicodemus spoke

excitedly. “Fellwroth killedTyphon in a Highland river,cut thedemonintofragmentswithsomekindofdisspellingwand. I saw it happen when

the golem touched me. Andon the road, Fellwroth saidTyphonwastryingtoinfectaminor deity. Perhaps it wasyourgoddess.”

Deirdre looked at him.“Then that must be how mygoddess knew of you. She isthe sovereign of Highlandrivers; she must have seenFellwroth betray his master.Somehow she must haveextracted knowledge of youfrom the dead demon. That

must be why she sends thevisions to me. She hasinvested somuchofher soulinmethatshecannotexpressherselfoutsideofherark.Shehas no direct way ofcommunicating with me,except by controlling”—shelookeddownatherlap—“thisbody.”

Again Nicodemusthought about how she hadbeen disabled by love. Hethought about Johnwho, out

oflove,hadsoughttoprotectNicodemus and who nowsuffered unimaginablybecause he had lovedDevin.He thought also about whatDeirdre had done to Kyranandwhat Kyran had done tohimself.

Gently,heplacedahandonDeirdre’sshoulder.“Whatyoudid,youdidoutoflove.”

She laughed cruelly.“Don’t be a romantic fool.There’s no force more

savage. My love for BoanndestroyedmyloveforKyran,then destroyed the manhimself.”

“Hechosehispath.”Again, the hard laugh.

“In that, then, he and Iwerealike;we loved toowell.Wealllovetoowell.”Sheclosedher eyes. “Will you readmeKyran’slastmessagenow?”

He looked down at thedimgreensentenceinhislefthand. It was so simple that

even his cacographic mindhad not misspelled thetranslation: “I loved youalways;Iloveyoustill.”

Hereaditaloud.Deirdre bent forward,

her chin on her chest. Againsheworethehalf-smile,butitno longer held wryamusement.Itpulledherfacedown into a gruesomemask.Sheshooksilently.

When Nicodemussqueezedherhand,shepulled

himintoanembrace.

HOURS LATER NICODEMUSwoke to find the sunbeamgonefromthesteps.Onlythefading light of dusk camedownthestairs.

They were—all three ofthem—sleeping against thefarwall.TheIndexlaybesideNicodemus, and John waslooking at him withfrightenedeyes.

“Nico,” the big man

whispered, “youknow itwaswhatTyphonmademedo?”

When Nicodemus saidthat he did, the big manclosed his eyes and let out alongbreath.

“Are you all right,John?”

The other man pressedhis lips together and shookhis head. “No,” he said astears came to his eyes.Nicodemus reached out andtook his hand. John said

nothing.In the silence,

Nicodemus could hear thewind whistling through thetrees.Somewherefaraway,arookcalled.

John studied him withwetbrowneyes.“Areyouallright,Nico?”

Nicodemus didn’t lookaway when his own tearscame.“No,”hesaid.“No.”

CHAPTERThirty-sevenOutside Shannon’s cell, amancriedoutasifdying.

The old wizard tried tohurry out of his bed but theMagnus chains wrappedaround his wrists jerked him

back.Hewasstillspellbound.Worse, the censoring

text locked around his mindkepthimfromseeingmagicallanguage and made theresulting blackness seem tospin.Hewastrulyblindnow.

The cry came again.Moving more slowly,Shannonputhislegsovertheside of the bed and arrangedhis robes.Hewould face theendwithdignity.

Athudsoundedfromthedirection of the door.He didnot flinch. The thud cameagain, accompanied by thecrack of breaking Magnussentences.

Shannonstraightenedhisdreadlocks, smoothed hisbeard. Another thud and thedoorgavewaywithametallicsqueal.

Silence, then theclickingof leatherbootheelsonstone.

“Rashofyoutocomeinyour true body,” Shannonsaid as calmly as he could.“The sentinels will know ofyour existence after you killme.”

“Kill you?” Fellwrothasked with amusement.Something stirred the airbesideShannon. “Nothing sosimple,Magister.Come.”

Suddenly Shannon wason his feet, hands stretchedout before him as Fellwroth

pulled him along by hischains.

“I’m no use to you,”Shannon called. “The boy’sgone. You’ll never find outwhoheisnowthat—”

“Nicodemus Weal is inthe forest south of here,”Fellwroth rasped. “Yes, Iknow his name. And, yes, Icouldflushhimoutofhiding.Butatbest thatwouldstartatime-consuming chase; atworst, it would kill the

whelp.” They were hurryingdown a long hallway. “Youwillcarryamessagetohim.”

They turned andsuddenly Shannon wasstumbling up stairs. “I don’tknow how to find him,” theold wizard said, fighting thedizziness caused by thecensoringtext.

“Magister, you’re amiserable liar,” Fellwrothrasped. “I’mgoing to releaseyou, and you’re going to

carry my message to theboy.”

Shannonshookhishead.“Even if I could find him, Iwould never do so.” Thestairs ended and againShannonwaswalkingdownahallway.

Fellwroth snorted. “Youinsult my understanding ofhuman motivation. I knowyou’d never go to him if Itrackedyou.Iwillnotfollow.Doubleback five timesover.

Romp around in the forestsall night looking for asubtextual tracker. You’llfind nothing. When you’resatisfied, takemymessage totheboy.”

Cold wind blew acrossShannon’sface.Theyhadleftthehallwayandwerewalkingintheopenair.

“The end game begins,”Fellwrothcroaked.“Itdoesn’tmatterthatthesentinelsknowof me. We play on a field

outside of Starhaven now.Should the wizards catchNicodemus and bring himback here, I would have notroublepullinghimfromtheirprisons. In fact, that’s mymessage to the boy: you andhe are to return to Starhavenand place yourselves in thesentinels’ custody. I will useasandgolemtoretrievebothof you the instant the black-robeshaveyou.”

“What makes you think

wewoulddosuchathing?”Fellwroth’s footsteps

began to produce woodenthuds. Shannon frowned.Couldtheybewalkingacrossthedrawbridge?

“You can’t feel it yet,Magister,” Fellwroth hissed,“butIhavelacedthemusclesaround your stomach with aLanguagePrimecursenamedcanker. It forces themusclesto forge dangerous amountsof text. But I’ve edited this

versiontoslowitsprogress.Icall it logorrhea.Itwon’tkillyouinanhourorevenaday.It will grow stronger andstronger until it bursts yourstomach. If fortunate, you’llsuccumbtofever.Ifunlucky,you will digest your ownentrails.”

Shannon could hear thewind rushing through thetrees.Somehowtheywereonthe dirt road outsideStarhaven. What had

happenedtotheguards?“I will die screaming

before I see Nicodemussubmit to you,” Shannongrowled.

“Tell the boy that onlythe Emerald of Arahest cancure the canker growing inyourgut.”

“I’ll tell him to run asfastashecan.”

Fellwroth grunted. “Ifthe boy runs, Iwill find himor he will die.” Themonster

pulledhimhardtotheright.Shannon’s boots left the

dirt road and began to swishthoughknee-highgrass.

“Tell Nicodemus that ifhesubmitstome,Iwillgranthim partial use of theemerald.Tell him Iwill cureyourcanker.”

Shannonshookhishead.“You’reafool.”

Thefootstepsinfrontofhim stopped. “Twenty pacesahead is a meadow where a

horse is tethered to a lowbranch. I’ve spellbound yourblueparrottoyoursaddle.”

“Azure,” Shannon saidinvoluntarily.

Fellwroth laughed. “Thesentinels had caged the birdin the stables with childishprose. Now go and tell thewhelpwhatIhavetoldyou.”

“I’llnever—”Two cold hands yanked

Shannon forward by thewrists and peeled the fetters

from his arms and legs. Theold wizard gasped as thehands tore the censoring textfrom his head. His mind,restoredtomagic,reeledwithshock.Itfeltasificyneedleswere scraping across everyinchofhisskin.

“Tell the boy!”Fellwroth snarled, givingShannonashove.

Theoldwizardstumbledbackward. His foot caughtandhefellontohisback.

Theonlysoundwasthatoffootfallsonpineneedles.

“I’ll die before I tellhim!” Shannon shouted afterthemonster.

Noreply.

“IT’SJUSTINhere,”theelderlysentinelsaid.

Amadi was standing inthehallwayofasmallstoragetower. Outside the eveningskywasbruisingpurple.

The gray-haired woman

standingbeforeAmadiwasaStarhavensentinel,notoneofher trusted Astrophellauthors. “Magistra,” Amadisaid, “I haven’t much time.The provost has demanded Iprepareareport—”

“One of my youngerridersfounditontheroadupfrom Gray’s Crossing,” thewomaninterrupted.“Itwasinthe ditch, so it’s notsurprisingnooneelsesawit.Unfortunately,whentherider

reported it, the guards didn’tbelievehim.”Theoldwomancast a short Numinouspasswordintothedoorbeforeher.

A frown creasedAmadi’s brow. “Didn’tbelievehimaboutwhat?”

The old sentinel shookherhead.“BestifIshowyou.I put it in here to preventrumors.”

Theywalkedintoaroomlit by candles.Ayoungmale

lesser wizard was staringwide-eyedatsomething largeanddarkonthefloor.

At first Amadi thoughttheobjectwasabody.Itwaslying stomach down. Its leftarm had been melted into athin rod. Small pools ofmetallic blood had frozenaround the thing’s shoulderandchest.

“Los in hell!” Amadiapproached it. The thing’sface was human but for the

rectangular window openingintoitsbrow.Shebentcloser.Theheadwashollow.

“Pure iron,” the womanbehind her said. “Took twowizards and a mule-drawncarttohaulituphere.”

“Shannon, it seems Ioweyouanapology,”Amadimurmured. “Monsters madeofclayandmetal.”

“Magistra Okeke!”Amadi turned back to thedoor. “Magistra!” It was

Kale.Amadi groaned. “Every

time I see you, Kale, I getmore horrible news. Sobeforeyoutellmesomethingelse, let’s take care of this.”She nodded to the ironcarcass. “I need three trustedsentinels to carry it up to theprovost’s grand hall. And Iwant Shannon awake andready to answer morequestions.”

“That’s just it,” Kale

panted.“Shannon’sgone.”“Gone?”“Someonetookhim.The

guardisdead.Thetextaboutthe cell was disspelled andthe door was knocked downfromtheoutside.”

Amadi’s mind camealive with questions. Whowould want to take Shannonfrom her? The golemmonster?Howwasshegoingtoexplainthistotheprovost?“Do we know where his

captor took him? Whatdirectiontheywent?”

Again Kale nodded.“Outthefrontgate.”

“How is that possible?”the gray-haired sentinelasked. “The front gate is toowellguarded.”

Kale’s frightened eyesturned to thewoman. “Manysentinels and guards werewounded fighting thebookworm infestation. Therest were spread out across

the stronghold, searching forNicodemus. There were noguards in the gate house andonly two before thedrawbridge.Botharedead.”

“Raise the alarm,”Amadicommanded.“Callthesearchers up from Gray’sCrossing and in from theforests. No one is to leaveStarhaven’s occupied towersand halls. And see that theslain guards are prepared foraproperburial.”

Kalenodded.“And tell the digger to

make another grave,” Amadiadded.“AfterI tellall this totheprovost,you’llhavetoputmeinit.”

CHAPTERThirty-eightRaindrops cut icy flecks oflife into Deirdre’s wind-numbed face. Billowingcloudsblanketedtheskysavefor a few rents that pouredcity-sizedsun-beamsontothe

Highlands.Deirdrewas laughing as

she galloped down theHighridge Road. To eitherside, the mountains droppedintodeepvalleys.Somedellswerecriss-crossedwith stonewalls and speckled withHighlandsheep.Ravenstherewere too, clouds of themflappingthroughthedarkskyor filling the few trees like aharvest of noisy, black-featheredfruit.

Topping the next ridge,Deirdrelookeddowntheroadto the watchtowers guardingthe entrance to Glengorm:one of her clan’s fortifiedhomesteads.

As she galloped,sunlightsweptacrosstheroadandglintedonherarmor.Theguards cheered as she torethroughtheopengates.

Down into the glen sheflew, barely noticing thefortified houses or the

wooden barricades meant tokeep livestock in andlycanthropes out. At thebottom of the glen lay anarrow lake. A small stonefort stood on a jetty thatextendedintothegraywater.

Deirdre did not rein inhermareuntil shewas in thefort’s stable yard. Herclansmeninthestallsshoutedjoyously. Others appeared atthewindows.

Deirdreswungdownand

threwher reins to thenearestboy. “Treat her well,” shesaid through a wry smile.“She’shadabitofarun.”

The men within earshotlaughed at herunderstatement.

She raised a fist andyelled, “The White Fox hasescapedtoDral!Confusiontothe Lornish Crown!” Themen echoed her cry at neardeafeningvolume.

She led another cheer

and thenhurried into the fortandupthreeflightsofnarrowwooden stairs. When shepushed thedoor open,Kyranwaspacingbythewindow.

His limp was lesspronounced now, but still hefavoredhis left leg, probablywould for the restofhis life.Hislonghairhungacrosshisshouldersinagoldencurtain.

Her wry smile reneweditself. “Only half a year agoPaladin Garwyn nearly cut

thatlimboff.”Shenoddedtohis bandaged right leg.“Perhaps you shouldn’t betroublingitso.”

Kyranturnedaround,hisbrown eyes alight withexpectation. “GreatSoul,”hesaid,sinkingtohisleftknee.

She closed thedoor andwent to him. His freshlyshavenfaceturneduptowardher. The scar below his earwaslittlemorethanaredlinenow.“Mycousin?”heasked.

“Did he make it safely toDral?”

Deirdre suppressed alaugh. “Always so serious,Kyran.TheWhiteFoxrunsinferalwoodstonight.Afistofrangersmetusattheriver.Ifthey can avoid thelycanthropes,theyshallreachKerreac in less than afortnight.”

ReliefdrewKyran’sthinlips intoadimpledsmile.Hetook her hand and bent over

it.“IswearonBridget’snamethat you have my undyinglove.”

His touch madeDeirdre’sheadfeelaslightassmoke.

There was nothing toindicate it, but sheknew thathe had meant “you” to beplural,toincludehergoddess.Her hands trembled as sheturnedhischinup.“Andyoushallhaveours.”

Hestoodandpressedhis

lips to hers. Her heartthrobbed to an irregularrhythm. She felt as if shewerehavinganaura.

She had thought of thisfor so long, known howforbidden it was. “From thefirst,”hewhispered, “I lovedyoualways.”

Laughing, she pulledhim closer and stopped hiswordswithhertongue.

Shecouldtellbyhiskissthat this time he had meant

the word “you” to besingular;his lovewasforheronly.

His arms closed aroundher.

“Do you loveme still?”she murmured into his neck.“Lovemeonly?”

“Yes.” His voice thebriefest susurration by herear. “I loved you always; Iloveyoustill.”

Her face tingled withwarmthasshepulledbackfar

enoughtokisshimagain.Slowly the world tilted

so that they lay facing eachother.Theroomdimmed.Herhands trembled badly. Hisface lost its bristles andbecameassmoothasaboy’s.Hislonggoldenhair,flowingallaboutthem,darkeneduntilit was as black as her own.Her hands clenched as anecstaticwarmthflusheddownherback.Silently,sheprayedshe would not fall into a

seizurenow.Her lover’s eyes

lightenedfromdarkbrowntodeep green. They were notKyran’seyes.

Shewas not falling intoa seizure but waking fromone.

Kyranwasdead.Withashriek,shethrew

outherarmsandturnedawayfromNicodemus.

DEIRDRE’S SHOVE TOSSED

Nicodemusintotheair.Arms flailing, he turned

a half-flip and landed on hisback.All theair rushed fromhislungs.

He tried to inhale butcouldn’t. Suddenly Deirdre,herdruidrobesstreakedwithdirt, was kneeling over himandapologizing.

Long airless momentspassed,eachoneanagonizingeternity. Deirdre took histattooed hands. “Are you

hurt?Whydidyoudothat?”At last Nicodemus’s

lungs expanded. “I didn’t doanything!” he panted. “Youweretheonewho—”

Hestopped.Only the faint light of

dusk came down the cellarstairs, but it was enough toilluminatehertears.

“What did I do?” sheasked in a shaky voice. “Itwas a seizure, Nicodemus;my goddess took control of

me. I don’t remember athing.”

Nicodemus’s throattightened. He glanced overand saw that John had sleptthroughtheirexchangesofar.Nervously, he turnedback toDeirdre. “You…you and Iwere talking about what weshould do next. You arguedthatweneedtoruntoGray’sCrossing and find Boann’sark. I thought it was toodangerous. By now the

sentinels will be looking forme.”

Deirdre shook her head.“Theark sits inan innat thetown’s edge. It won’t bedifficulttoreachundetected.”

Nicodemus sat up. Hishead throbbed where it hadstruck ground. “Deirdre, I’vestolen the Index. Everywizard south of Astrophellmust be editing their attackspells and forming witchhunts to find me. Listen,

Shannon gave me more thanenoughgold to seeus toDarortheCityofRain.Youmusthave allies in the Highlandswhocanhelpus.”

Deirdrewas shakingherhead. “Nicodemus, it doesn’tmatter where you run;without divine protectionFellwrothwillfindyou.”

Nicodemus winced ashis hand brushed his cheek.Shannon’s Magnus stitcheswere holding, but thewound

was still tender. “This iswhere the argument stoppedbefore. But you began tospeak of your goddess’sbeauty and then…” Helooked away. “And you toldme…”

“Nicodemus,” shewhispered, squeezing hishand,“whateverflatterycamefrom my mouth, it wasBoann’s. She knows howimportant you are; shewantstoprotectyou.”

Nicodemuslookedherinthe eye. “So she uses yourbodytomanipulateme?Thathardly sounds like a…Deirdre, I’m sorry. I didn’tmeanto…”

She dried her eyes.“Nicodemus, don’t opposeher will. My desires arenotmy own. She’ll control meagain. She’ll make meoverpower you and drag youtoherark.”

Nicodemus letgoof the

woman’s hand. “Don’tthreatenme,Deirdre.Iamnowizard, but I am aspellwright.”

She retook his hand.“Nicodemus, you might cutmetopieceswithyourwords,butBoann—”

“Letgoofme.”Hetriedtopryoffherfingers.

Her other hand clampedaround his tattooed wrist.“Don’t do this; you willlose.”

Nicodemusextemporized a commonlanguage constricting spellalonghis tongueandspat thesentencesaroundherelbows.

Surprised, Deirdreweakened her grip justenoughforNicodemustosliphis righthand free.He threwhisarmbackandwrotealongit a short Magnus club. Thetext most likely wasmisspelled and would breakafter a single stroke, but he

could deliver at least oneblow.

Meanwhile, Deirdreheaved with her greatstrength and snapped thesentenceswrappedaroundherelbow.

“Deirdre, stop, I’ve aspellinmy—”Hefellsilent.

She now held thegreatsword in her right hand.Theylockedeyes.

“Please,”shewhispered,hereyesfulloffear,“Icannot

yield.”“Then you will have to

—” He stopped as a wall offaint golden light washedthrough the cellar. Hejumped.

“Whatisit?”A second wall of light

flew through the cellar.Nicodemus dropped hisMagnus club and caught oneof the tiny Numinous wordsthat made up the strangelight.

Realization camewith asurge of excitement. “It’s abroadlycastspell!”Hebeganto translate the golden text.“It’slikeamagicalbeacon.”

Deirdre lowered thegreatsword. “But who wouldsendabeacontous?”

Nicodemus struggled tohis feet.“Wehave togo.Letgoofme.”Whenshedid,herantopickuptheIndex.

“Whathappened?”He grabbed her forearm

as if to pull her along. “I’llexplain as we go. Nowhurry!”

Astheyranupthestairs,Nicodemus looked down atthe translated word thatglowed faintly gold on hispalm. It read“nsohnannanhosn.”

DEIRDRE FROWNED. AGAINShannon doubled over andvomited nothing. AgainNicodemus went to his side

and held the old man’sdreadlocks back from hisface. The Index lay besidethem. Azure, perched on anearby rock pile, bobbed herheadnervously.

Deirdrewas sittingwithSimple John in front of theircampfire. Around themstretched the nighttimeChthonic ruins. The horsethatShannonhadbeenridingwas grazing somewhere outinthedark.

Abovethem,theforest’sbranches tossed in the coldautumn wind; they made asoftrushingsoundthatwasinsharp contrast to Shannon’sviolentretching.

“What’s happening?”she whispered to SimpleJohn.

The big man’s facepaled. “Magister’s throwingupbywords.Badwords.Toomanysmall,repeatedwords.”

TheyhadfoundShannon

in theforestnotanhourago;he had seemed healthy then.In fact, the old linguist hadlaunched into a story abouthisescapefromthesentinels.HekepturgingNicodemustoturn and flee from StarhavenandtraveltoanotherwizardlyacademycalledStarfallKeep.

Apparently, theStarhaven wizards thoughtNicodemus was the StormPetrel destroyer. Shannonthoughthecouldconvincethe

Starfall wizards otherwise.Nicodemus, overjoyed torecover his teacher, hadagreed.

As they trekked back tothe Chthonic ruins, the boyhad told Shannon ofeverything thathadhappenedsince they were separated.Deirdre had argued thatbeforesettingoutforStarfall,theyshouldfirstgotoGray’sCrossing to seek hergoddess’sprotection.

Herthinkingwassimple:Nicodemus’s keloid wouldallow Fellwroth to trackthem.Asaresult,theywouldnever reach Starfall KeepaliveunlesstheyremovedthecursefromNicodemus’sscar.Deirdre had no doubt thatBoann could do exactly that.Therefore, they had to go toGray’s Crossing. However,despite the logic of thisreasoning, neither man hadheededheradvice.

But now things hadchanged.

After returning to theChthonic ruins, they hadfound Simple John roastingskinned rabbits over a fire.The moment Shannon hadtouched food to his lips, hehadkeeledover tovomitoutnothing—just as he wasdoingnow.

Deirdre turned to John.“How is it that you can talknow when before you only

knewthreephrases?”The big man looked

down at his hands. “It wasTyphon’s curse. The demontiedsentencesaroundpartsofmy mind that use language,restricted them to the threephrases.”

“Forgiveme,Ididn’t—”HerapologywascutshortbyShannon’s renewed retching.“Nicodemus,” she asked,grateful for the excuse tochange subjects, “what’s

wrongwithShannon?”“Nothing’s wrong,” the

grand wizard panted whilesitting up. “It’s only aconsequence of having acensoringspellpeeledoffmyheadtooquickly.”

“No,” Nicodemus saidwithout taking his eyes fromthe old man. “It’s thenonsensical words comingout of his mouth that’s theproblem.”

Theoldwizardnarrowed

his blind eyes. His tonebecameironic.“Sowittywithyourdoublemeaning.”

Deirdre coughed. “Idon’tunderstand.”

“His story doesn’tmakesense,” Nicodemus answeredwithirritation.“Nocensoringspellplacedonhisheadcouldmake his stomach fill withMagnusbywords.”

Shannonclosedhiseyes.Deirdre could see how frailhewas.The oldman sighed.

“I shouldn’t have come. Iagonized over it for hours,backtracked again and againto make sure the monsterwasn’tfollowingme.Ihopedthe monster had lied aboutLanguage Prime and theinfecting curse. It wasn’t alie.”

The old man shook hishead. “In the end, I soughtyouout,Nicodemus,becauseI feared you might try torescue me. I only wanted to

send you away from thatcreature; I never guessed thelogorrhea would set in soquickly.”

Nicodemus touched thewizard’s shoulder. “Tell mewhat happened,” he saidfirmly.“Ideservethetruth.”

Theoldmanreachedoutwith his knobby hand.Nicodemus took it with hisown.“Nicodemus,itseemsasif you’ve aged fifty yearssincelastevening.”

“Magister,” John said,“weallhave.”

“Perhaps you’re right,John,” Shannon said. “Verywell, Nicodemus, I will tellyou.Butpromise to runwithme to Starfall Keep. Wecannot go back. We cannotsubmittothatmonster.”

When Nicodemusagreed, Shannon explainedhow Fellwroth—not in agolem,butinalivingbody—hadpulledhimfromhiscell,

and how the monster hadused the Emerald of ArahesttoinfecthimwithaLanguagePrimecursecalled logorrhea,which made him vomitwords.

“Magister!” Nicodemussaid when the wizardfinished. “You made mepromise something I didn’tunderstand. No, we will notrun to Starfall. That wouldtake until spring; you’d diebeforewegotthere.”

The old man sat upstraighter.“PerhapsFellwrothwas lying when he told youthatallhumanpropheciesarefalse. It is still possible thatyou are the Halcyon; thatpossibility forbids you fromforfeiting your life for mine.Besides, we dare not trustFellwroth. If we submit, themonster is likely to kill meanyway.”

Nicodemus shook hishead. “I won’t watch you

die.”“Selfishness,”thewizard

huffed. “Surrender and youempower the demons. Yourduty is to confound theDisjunction. And if thatmeans watching me contendwith the canker growing inmystomachyou—”

An idea bloomed inDeirdre’s mind. “Thismagical canker, is it like themundane cankers that clericsremovefromelderlybodies?”

All faces turned towardher. Shannon spoke. “Clericsare spellwrights that studymedicine. We wizardswouldn’tknow.”

A giddy warmth spreadacrossDeirdre’sface.“Boannfound a canker once on myback. She said they happenoften to avatars because welive so long. She said deitiesroutinelycutsuchgrowthsofftheiravatars.”

Shannon scowled. “But

what ails me is not onegrowth. I can see the runescoming from the cursedmuscles aroundmy stomach.Thecankerislacedallaroundthe organ. Boann could cutmyguts intobloodyragsandthere’d still bemore curse tocutout.”

Deirdrewas shakingherhead. “But she is a goddess!Youcan’t—”

Nicodemus interrupted.“Are you sure Boann would

healMagister?”“If you accept her

protection, she would doanything.”

Shannon objected. “Shecan’t help me, Nicodemus.Look at the runes appearingin my gut; you can see howdiffuse the canker is. Gray’sCrossingisfartoodangerous;we can’t risk the life of apossible Halcyon for that ofanoldman.”

“We can, Magister, and

if it comes to that we will.”Nicodemusstoodup.“First,Ineed to research somethinghere in these ruins. I mightyet learn something aboutLanguage Prime. But if Ican’t find a way to removeyour curse, we will go toGray’sCrossing.”

The old man scowledagain.“Don’tbefoolish.Youhavenoright to riskyourselfforme.”

“Magister, I do,”

Nicodemus retorted. “I’m acacographer,notachild.”Heturnedtowardtheruins.

“Los damn it,” Shannongrumbled, and struggled tohis feet. “Nicodemus, whereareyougoing?”

The boy didn’t lookback.“IntotheBestiary.”

CHAPTERThirty-nineNicodemus frowned atTulki’s spell. It read, “Thelast eugrapher was furiousafter engaging the Bestiary.Hiswordsbecameangryandillogical. He claimed the

Bestiary’s knowledge was acursetohim.”

When Nicodemuslooked up from this note, hefound the ghost fidgetingwithhislongwhiteponytail.

They were standingoutside a dome-shaped ruinovergrown by vines thatbristled with leathery brownleaves. Elsewhere theexpanse of half-collapsedwalls stretched out into thedark.

Behind Nicodemusstood his confusedcompanions. “What’s theghostwritingnow?”Shannonasked.

Because they lackedfluency in the Chthoniclanguages, neither Shannonnor John nor Deirdre couldseetheWrixlantext.

“The ghost is trying tochange my mind,”Nicodemus replied, stillstaring at Tulki. “He’s afraid

thebookwill upsetmeand Iwon’treturntoreplenishtheirspectraltexts.”

“Tell him,” Johnannounced haltingly, “youkeepyourword.”

Nicodemus nodded.“Theghostcanhearyou.”

Tulki stopped fidgetingto cast a reply: “But theremight be danger. It wastraumatic when the Indexengaged you, true? TheBestiary is a more powerful

tome.”“How did the ghost

respond?”Shannonasked.Tulki studied the old

wizard and gave Nicodemustwomoresentences:“Telltheolder one about the danger.Hewillhelpyousee.”

Nicodemus sniffed inannoyance. “He’sexaggerating the danger thetome might pose, todiscourageme.”

Tulki’s eyes widened.

“!” he flicked at Nicodemusbeforeadding,“Iamnot!”

Nicodemus raised asingle,incredulouseyebrow.

Tulkithrewhishandsupinexasperation.“Iforgothowinfuriating young malehumans can be. Very well,Nicodemus Weal, I have noevidence of great danger. Iam only concerned for yourwell-being.”

The cold wind slippeddown into the ruins and

stirredNicodemus’slonghair.“Andconcernedforyourownwell-being,”hesaid,pullingablack lock away from hiseyes.

The ghost folded hisarms. “The last eugrapherwas also this adamant. Areyou sure you are not hisdescendant?”

“Now what’shappening?”Deirdreasked.

“He’s telling me aboutthe last cacographer who

came through here aboutthreehundredyearsago.”

“Good,” Shannon said.“Learnasmuchabout thatasyoucan.”

Tulki studied Shannonand then cast a sentence:“Somethingiswrongwiththeelder’sbelly?”

Nicodemus changed thesubject. “Tellmemoreaboutthepreviouseugrapher.”

The ghost scratched hischin as he forged an answer.

“The boy was curious andinsistent. He looked like youand was thrilled to discoverhe did not misspell in ourlanguages. A whole autumnand winter he stayed,sleeping through day andstudyingatnight.Hebecamepaleandbeautifully tattooed.He wrote wonderfulconstructs,likeyours.”

Nicodemus nodded.“But then he learned abouttheBestiary?”

The ghost’s shouldersrose and fell in a noiselesssigh. “And then there wasnothing that would pleasehim but to engage it. Thereadingdidn’ttakemorethana moment. He touched thepages and then fell to theground. We asked what hadhappened and he began tolaugh. ‘Gibberish!’ he said.‘She showedme that I’m theerror. She showed me whatcacographytrulyis.’”

“What did he mean bythat?” Nicodemus said, hisheartbeginningtokick.

Tulki shrugged. “Weasked him, but the boy onlyshouted at us. He said thatthebookhadcursedhimwiththe knowledge of whatcacography truly was andwhat the Chthonic peopletruly were. ‘Gibberish!’ hekept yelling. ‘It’s allgibberish!’ We tried toreason with him but he

wouldn’t speak. He left thenext evening and neverreturned.”

Nicodemus swallowedwhen he finished reading.“What’s this about whatcacographytrulyis?Whatdidhelearn?”

“What’s the ghostwriting now?” Shannonasked.

“Magister,” Nicodemussnapped.“I’mtryingtoread.”

The old linguist

mumbledanapology.“Go on,” Nicodemus

insisted. “What did the otherboylearnaboutcacography?”

Again the ghostshrugged.“Hedidn’tsay.”

Nicodemus pressed hiscold right hand to hismouthand took a steadying breath.“Do you remember hisname?”

The ghost seemed toponder this. “I believe…” hecastbeforepausing.“Ibelieve

hisnamewasJamesBerr.”“Los in hell,”

Nicodemus swore under hisbreath. JamesBerr—theveryincarnation of malignantcacography!

Tulki’s amber eyesstudied Nicodemus. “He didlook much like you—blackhair, olive skin, green eyes.Was James Berr indeed oneofyourancestors?”

“No!”The ghost jumped.

“Forgive me. Have Ioffended?”

Nicodemus ignored theghost’squestions.“DidhetellyouwhyheleftStarhaven?”

The ghost shook hishead. “I’ve told youeverything.”

“Nicodemus, why areyouupset?”Deirdreasked.

Ignoringher,Nicodemuskept his eyes on Tulki. “Butwhat did the Bestiary teachhimabout cacography?What

did he mean, ‘It’s allgibberish’?”

Again, the ghost shookits head. “This is upsettingyou already. Nothing goodwill come of engaging theBestiary.”

Nicodemusshuthiseyesand took a long, quaveringbreath.

“Nicodemus, tell uswhat’s the matter.” Shannonsaid.

Nicodemus answered

without opening his eyes.“The ghost says reading theBestiarymightbedangerous.How dangerous, he doesn’tknow.Iwashiding this fromyou. I tell you now onlybecauseLoshimself couldn’tstop me from reading thebook.”

All three of his friendsexplodedintoquestions.

Nicodemus went on.“The last human to read theBestiary was a cacographer

like me. He learned theChthonic languages like me.Heevenlookedlikeme.Andby reading this tome, hediscovered something aboutthenatureofcacography.”

Nicodemus turned tofacehis friends.Thedappledmoonlight revealed threeworriedfigures.

“I’m terrified,” he saidbluntly. “I have much incommon with this ancientcacographer. I must know

whohetrulywasandwhathediscoveredintheBestiary.”

“But why?” Deirdreasked.

“BecauseImightbejustlikehim.”

Shannon spoke. “Andwhowasthisotherboy?”

“JamesBerr.”Both Shannon and John

flinched.A confusedDeirdrelookedfromonetotheother.No one spoke for amoment.Then Shannon said,

“Nicodemus, if there is evena slight danger, you mustn’t—”

“No, Magister,” Johninterrupted.“Hemust.”

Tulki led Nicodemus tothe vine-covered dome. Thethick brown leaves barelyswayed in the coldwind. ToNicodemus’s shock, he sawthat they were not leaves atall, but thick medallions ofleather.

A curtain of the strange

foliage parted to reveal aminiaturedoorway.“Iappealto you again,” Tulki wrote,stepping through.“Reconsider.”

Nicodemus duckedthrough the doorway into asmall,darkspace.“Icannot,”hesaid.

A rectangle of dullamber light glowed in thedarkness. As Nicodemusapproached, the lightgrewtoreveal that he was standing

notinaroom,butinabowerof leathery vines. The thickstems and leaves had woundthemselves into a tentlikeroof around the crumblingbuilding.

The floor was unevenand rough. On closerinspection, Nicodemusrealized that it was made ofthousands of roots. All ofthemrantotheroom’scenterandthengrewintosomethingresembling a tree stump

—“resembling”because afterrising two feet into theair, itgrew into a massive codex.Its brown leather cover wastextured like ash bark. Abraid of branches grew fromeachfacetoformaclasp.Thediffuse amber light wascomingfromthemanypages.

The sound of shufflingfeet filled the bower asShannon, John, and Deirdreenteredbehindhim.

Tulki handed

Nicodemus a note: “Moveslowly.”

The Bestiary’s glowbrightened as Nicodemusapproached. Silently, thefore-edge clasp unwove andthebookopenedwithacreak.Shafts of amber light spilledupward from the yellowingpages. Incandescent specksflew up from the spine likeembersfromafire.

“Becareful,Nico,”Johnsaid.Shannonsaidsomething

too,butNicodemuscouldnothear what over the rush ofblood inhis ears.Hepressedhis palm against one of theBestiary’s warm, luminouspages.

There was a pause.Nicodemus held his breathand waited for the sensationof flyingupward intoanightsky thathehadknownin theIndex.

But it did not come.Anotherpause.“Idon’t—”he

started to say before thegroundbelowhimdissolved.

Acryescapedhis throatas he plummeted down intoblackness.

CHAPTERFortyNicodemus fell into theBestiary, his mouth fillingwithwhatfeltlikewarm,thinoil. He gagged and thenaccidentally inhaled theslippery blackness. He was

drowning. Panic floodingthroughhismind,hebegantothrash.

But his mind could notdisengagefromthebook.

The liquid around himthickened, slowing his fall.With a heave, he pushed thefluid from his lungs andfoughttheurgetoinhale.Butinstinct soon forced him todrawthethinoilbackintohischest.

Slowly his thrashing

stopped.Hewasn’tdrowning;he was breathing darkness.Hislimbsfeltweightless.Hislonghairfloatedaroundhim.

Nearby,someswimmingthing made small waves offorce. “Another child oferror? A second chance?”saidarough,femininevoice.

Nicodemus’s heart beatfaster. “Who are you?” Hewas surprised that he couldspeak while breathing theliquiddark.

The thing repliedwithalow, purr-like laugh. Itsounded as if it was nowcirclinghim.

Nicodemusturnedabout,trying to see what he wasaddressing. “I’ve come tolearn about Language Prime.And to learn about the onewhocamebeforeme.”

Again the feline laugh.“I know what you seek,NicodemusWeal.As longasyou are within this tome, I

knowallyouknow.”He reached out in the

direction of the voice. “Whoareyou?”

A slippery somethingwound around his head andslid away so quickly that hedidnothavetimetoflinch.

“Iamthebeast.IamtheBestiary.Iamthetest-maker,the word-taker, the one whogivesthetrialbeforetherule,thepowerbeforethepurpose.IamasliverofChimera,who

was the goddess of allChimericalpeoples.”

“You’reaspell?”Low laughter replied.

“You might call me a spell.You might also call me afractional soul. When I wasmyself complete, Imade thisbook one of my avatars andplacedmyselfincompleteintoit. You may call meChimera.”

Nicodemus paused togatherhisfortitude.“Canyou

teach me what I want toknow?”

Again something silkywrapped around Nicodemus—thistimehisleftarm—andslipped away. “I can,”Chimera rumbled. “But onlyifyouaccepttheprice.Forifyou learn Language Prime,youcanneverunlearnit.”

“Andwhywouldthatbebad?WillIgoblind?”

AcurrentpushedagainstNicodemus’s back and sent

him floating forward.Afteramoment, Chimera spoke.“Quite the opposite fromgoing blind, you will seemore. You will see the truthabout the Creator’slanguage.”

“Is that what happenedto James Berr? You taughthimLanguage Prime, and helearned what cacographyreallyis?”

Chimera’s next wordcame from directly above.

“Yes.”Some of Nicodemus’s

hair floated intohis eyes.Hepulleditaway.“AndwhatofMagister Shannon’s curse?Will learning LanguagePrimeallowmetocurehim?”

“ItwouldshowyouhowShannon’s curse might beremoved. Whether you havetheskilltoremoveit,Icannotsay.”

Nicodemus could feelChimera swimming about

him more quickly. “Myenemies would keepknowledge from you,” sherumbled. “If you do learnLanguage Prime, you willgain the ability to confoundFellwroth and his demonmasters. But as in all things,theremust be an exchange. Iwould give you knowledge;you would give me yourhappiness.”

Nicodemus laughed.“That’s the trade: my

happiness for yourknowledge?”

Chimerahissed,“Yes.”“You wouldn’t be

getting much of a bargain. Ihaven’t much happiness togive.”

“Is that supposed beprofoundorcynical?”

Nicodemus shook hishead. “If I ignore anopportunity to removeShannon’scurse, Iwillneverknowhappinessagain.”

“You will trade yourhappiness for thechance,notthe certainty, of healingyourteacher?”

“Iwould.”Chimera made no

response.Nicodemus pursed his

lips. Was this a mistake?“How will you or LanguagePrime remove myhappiness?”

“By making youcompletely into theman you

arebecoming.”His head bobbed back.

“Who could be harmed bybecoming more thoroughlyhimself?”

“Whowouldn’tbe?”Nicodemus snorted

blackness through his nose.“Is that supposed to beprofoundorcynical?”

Chimeradidnotanswer.Nicodemus changed the

subject. “Howwillyou teachme Language Prime?Will it

belikewhentheIndexthrustitspurple languagedownmythroat?”

Chimera chuckled. “No,Fellwroth spoke truthfullyabout your family.TheSolarEmpirebredanunderstandingoftheCreator’slanguageintoImperials. Your ancestry hasprovided you with anuncanny and unconsciousknowledge of how to readand write Language Prime.James Berr also possessed

Imperialancestors.”Nicodemus’s throat

tightened. “I am related tohim?”

Chimera made a soundlike a yawn. “Berr would beyour distant cousin. He paidthe price and it broke him.Perhaps you are stronger.Will you learn the firstlanguage?”

Nicodemus took a longbreath of liquid black. “Iwill.”

THE DARKNESS LIT up withfouraquamarinecharacters.

“These are the fourrunes of Language Prime,”Chimerasaidbehindhim.

NicodemusglancedoverhisshouldertotrytoglimpseChimera but saw onlyblackness.Sohe turnedbackto the complex cyancharacters. All were three-dimensional. Two hadhexagonal structures; the

other two, pentagonalstructures. As the runesrotated slowly, Nicodemusrealized that he had instantlymemorized theireverydetail.He could already see howthey would fit together intolong,spiralingsentences.

“I’ve never learnedanything so quickly,” heremarkedinamazement.

Chimera spoke. “Youare not learning; you areawakening an ancestral

knowledge. And now that Ihave shown you the runes,your education is nearlycomplete.”

Nicodemus laughed, butwhen thehiddencreaturedidnotreply,herealizedthatshewas serious. “But I have noLanguage Prime vocabulary,no grammar.” He laughedagain. “I don’t even knowwhat kind of spells arewritteninLanguagePrime.”

Chimera’sreplycamein

a whisper. “Look at yourhands.”

Nicodemus did as hewastoldandthenjumped.Anaquamarine glow nowsuffused his fingers andpalms.

“Fiery blood! I’mcasting in Language Prime!”He brought his hands closertobesure.“Buttherunesareimpossibly small,” he said inamazement. “There mustbe…I don’t know a number

largeenoughtodescribehowmany runes theremust be inmypinkyalone.”

He pulled back hissleevesandthenpeereddownthe collar of his robes. Hisentire body was saturatedwith Language Prime. “Itdoesn’t makesense,” he said.“Theothermagicallanguageswe forge in ourmuscles, butthese runes are forming ineverybitofmybody.”

The darkness around

Nicodemus undulated asChimera’svoicedrewcloser.“That is because LanguagePrime runes are notcontrolled by your body.Theyareyourbody.”

“That makes no sense.And what is this place,anyway? Is this my real,physical body? Are youshowingmeillusion?”

“Only your mind iswithin my book. But themagical body I have given

you here will behave just asyour physical body does.When you leave the book,you will see that I am notdeceivingyou.”Suddenlyhervoicewaswhisperinganinchfrom his left ear. “Now lookintonature.”

Nicodemusturnedtoseeasquarewindowcut into thedarkness. On the other sidewas an image of the nearbynighttime forest. Much wasfamiliar: pine trees, sword

ferns, a young buck pickinghiswayamongthevegetationandrocks.

But most wondrously,the deer glowed faintly withcyan light. “He’s castingLanguage Prime!”Nicodemus said. “But that’simpossible. Only humanscan…unless he’s a familiarand…” His voice died as herealized that the ferns tooglowedwithLanguagePrimespells. Only the rocks were

devoidoftext.“This must be fantasy!”

hewhispered.“No, Nicodemus Weal,

what you saw before youlearned Language Prime wasillusion. Now see the worldwithneweyes.”

Just thenapaleemperormoth fluttered before thewindow.Adarktentacleshotout to encircle the moth anddrewitintotheblackness.

Nicodemus jerked back

in surprise. The liquiddarkness around him becameas thin as air. The windowinto the forestwinked out ofexistence.

The largemoth flutteredabout in a panic. Because ofthe dark, Nicodemus couldnot see the insect’s body;rather, he saw the LanguagePrime texts that saturated thecreature.

“I have pulled thismoth’smindintotheBestiary

and given it a magical bodythatwillbehaveexactlyasitsphysical counterpart would.Now hold out your hand,Nicodemus Weal, and seeintothelifeofthings.”

Nicodemus reached outand the moth fluttered abouthis arm for amoment beforealightingonhisthumb.

As the insect’s legsgrabbedholdofNicodemus’sskin, an ecstatic heat rushedthrough his body. He felt

dizzy,almostintoxicated.Histhoughtsbecameas lightandfar rangingas smoke tendrilscaught in the wind. Timeslowed; even the movementof his blood seemedsuspended.

Shining inhismindwasa text longer than any hepreviously could haveimagined. All the books inStarhaven could not haveheld half its length.The spell—though consisting of only

four runes—containedinnumerabletwists,turns,andself-referentialpassages.

But what shockedNicodemus most, whatspawned a mystical sense ofwonder,wasthecertaintythatthis text was the same thingasthemoth.

Nicodemus would havethought the spell beyondhuman comprehension if notfor the perfect knowledge ofitnowshininginhismind.

Itwastrue,then.Hewasan Imperial. He had beenbornwiththegifttoreadandcomprehendLanguagePrime.

The moth flapped itswings once. Nicodemuslooked again at the pale,delicate creature and felt itsendless, intricate beauty sokeenlythathisheartached.

To him the moth wasboth a living animal and apoem.

He tried to speak, tried

to explain the awe coursingthroughhisveinslikeadrug,butallhecouldmanagewasarapturouswhisper,“She’sthemostbeautifulspell.”

“Touch any living thingand you will find the samelanguage,”Chimera said in avoicethathadbecomealmostsing-song. “I could providefor you the prose within anoak leaf or a trout’s belly. Icouldshowyoutheminiaturecreatures that infect wounds.

In each you would findLanguagePrime.Thatiswhythis tome is called theBestiary.Itrevealsthateverybeastandeveryplantismadefrom the Creator’s language,fromtheCreator’sgodspell.”

Nicodemus understood.“Lifeismagicallanguage.”

SLOWLYNICODEMUS’STRANCEbegantodissipate.Heputhisfree hand to his brow as theimplications of his revelation

unfolded. “So, if life islanguage…then LanguagePrime spellwrights couldeditdiseases from the sick, orclosewoundsbycoordinatinga body’s healing, or rewritewheatplantstoproducemoregrain.”

Chimera respondedwithan amused sniff. “You seewhy the Solar Empire was aparadise. Under the rule ofthe Imperial family, thecontinentknewneitherplague

norfamine.”“Howdoyouknowthis,

Chimera?”She produced a long

hissingsigh.“Iwastheoldestandmostmalcontentgoddesson the ancient continent. Iwanted to do more with theoriginal languages. I wantedto rewrite a new breed ofhumanity. I thought that theEmpire’s use of LanguagePrimetoimprovethelifetheyknew, and not invent new

life,would leadultimately tostagnation. And when Loswas born, I knew I wascorrect.”

“You knew Los? Thefirstdemon?”

Again the sigh. “I knewhim before he rebelled. Iknew his plans forLanguagePrime.That iswhyI fled theancient continent. TheEmpire had forbidden mefromtextualexperimentation.SoItookmyfollowersacross

the ocean to this newcontinent.HereItransformedmy followers into theChimericalpeoples.”

Something occurred toNicodemus. “The Chthonicswereoncehuman?”

“Theywere.And so toowere the Kobolds, theGoblins, the Lycanthropes,the Pelagics, the Incultans,and toomanyothers.At firstthiscontinentwasaparadise,butthenmypeoplesbeganto

fight each other. In hopes ofgoverning them, I split mysoul and impressed its partsinto the many differentBestiaries. To each tribe Igave three books. But myefforts proved futile. Thedifferences between theChimerical peoples grew toogreat. When your ancestorscrossedtheocean,theyfoundmypeoplesdivided.”

She paused and made alowswishingsound.“Atfirst,

I hoped to repel your kind.Yourdeitieswereweak then.To escape the demonic hostandcrosstheocean,theyhadto slumber within their arks.Thismadethemforgetnearlyeverything they had known,including Language Prime.And your Imperial familywas scattered. But mypeoples, as divided as theywere, were no match forhumanity. Once yourancestors established a

foothold on this continent,they slaughtered mypeoples.”

Nicodemus consideredhiswords.“Chimera,whydoyougivemethisknowledge?Itisanextraordinarygift.”

She did not answer forsuch a long time thatNicodemus began to worrythat she had left. “I havegiven you the bitterest ofknowledge. This marks thebeginningofyoursuffering.”

“Whatdoyoumean?”“Think on the

consequences of learning theoriginallanguages.”

Nicodemus’s browfurrowed. “I will see a glowaround all living things.But…there’s something Idon’t understand. Whyhaven’t I or any otherspellwrightfeltasynaestheticreactiontoLanguagePrime?”

“The runes ofLanguagePrime are extremely weak.

They can affect little outsidea living body. No humansynaesthetic reaction issensitive enough to detectthem.” She paused. “Butyou’re not considering whatwill happen now that youknow the Creator’sLanguage. Think harder.Your mind rewrites nearbyeugraphic languages—that ishow your childhood dreamswrote the night terrors thatsaved you from Fellwroth.

Buttheoriginallanguagesarenot eugraphic. They arecacographic; their spellingsare redundant and illogical.What happens when youtouch text written in acacographiclanguage?”

Therealizationfeltlikeakick to the stomach. At firstNicodemuscouldn’t talk. Hisheartracedandhistonguefeltas if made of leather. “I…misspellthem.”

When Chimera spoke

again her voicewas low anddoleful. “Look at the moth.”A sphere of soft white lightappeared next toNicodemus’shand.

He lookedandcriedoutinterror.

She had once been adelicate creaturewith a furrybody, wide black eyes,feathery antennae. Hergossamer wings had oncebeen pale cream punctuatedwith iridescent eyelike

markings of yellow andblack.

But the animal onNicodemus’s fingerwas nowa bulbous, blackened corpse.Tiny, angry cankers ofnecrotic black bulged acrossher body like nightmareparasites.

Nicodemus cried outagain. With his newknowledge, he saw how hiscacographic mind hadrearranged the moth’s

LanguagePrimetext,causingpartsofherbodytogrowintothemonstrousswellings.

He snapped his handback and the deadmoth fell.The light winked out andNicodemus was againfloatingintotaldarkness.

“Those were cankercurses, weren’t they?”Nicodemus asked betweenfrantic breaths. “That’s whatFellwroth did to Magister,isn’t it? The monster

misspelled the LanguagePrimetextsinMagister’sgut,and they’re growing out ofcontrol.”

Chimera didn’t answer.She didn’t have to.He knewitwastrue.

“I will misspell anyliving creature I touch,” herealized aloud. “Mycacography will spawn errorinside their bodies. I willspread cankers everywhere Igo.” He felt as if he might

vomit.Chimera made a low

huffing sound. “Not all thechanges you make will leadto cankers. Many of thechanges youwill impart to aliving creature will have noeffect. Some will even bebeneficial. But now…” Shestoppedandmadethehuffingsound again. “Now you seethepriceIhaveexactedfromyou.”

“I do,”Nicodemus said,

pressing his hands to hisbelly.“YousaidImightlearnhow Shannon’s curse couldbe removed. You never saidthat I would be able toremoveit.”

“You still have hope.Presently the cankers arespreadabouthisstomachlikegauze. If you touch him andconcentrate, you mightaggregate the curse into adiscretemass—”

Nicodemus interrupted.

“—which Deirdre’s goddessmightthenremove.”Shannonmightyetbesaved.

“I can’t say that you’vecheated me,” he said after amoment. “This givesMagister a chance for life. Iwould have agreed to yourterms even if I had knownthat itwouldmakeme intoamonster.”

Asuddenideamadehimstart.“WhatifIrecoveredtheEmerald of Arahest from

Fellwroth?”The darkness undulated.

He could again feel herswimming around him. Shesaid,“Iwouldnotwantthat.”

“But if I regained myability to spell, I wouldn’tgive the canker curse toeveryone I touched. I couldbecome a Language Primespellwright like those of theSolar Empire. Chimera!Fellwroth said there is noHalcyon,butImightstilluse

my Language Prime againsttheDisjunction.”

The waves in thedarkness stopped. “If youregain that part of yourself,you will be useless to thestruggleagainstthedemons.”

“Howcanthatbe?”She began to circle

again. “Fellwroth wants tohide the full truth aboutprophecyfromyou.”

“The golem said all thepropheciesarefalse.”

“All the humanprophecies are false,” shecorrected. “And the golemspoke truly about that. Thegolem also told you that themembers of your family arepawns to be played byhumanity or the Disjunction.In that too, he spoke part ofthetruth.”

“What, then, is thewholetruth?”

“Humanity uses theword‘prophecy’as if itwere

synonymous with the word‘destiny.’Nothingisdestined.Prophecy is like rain fallingon a mountain. The watermustflowdown.Itmustfindits course in creeks andstreamsandrivers.Onemightcalculate where the waterwould flow in a staticworld.In an unchanging landscape,wemightsaythatthisdropisdestined to flow into thislake, this river flow into thisocean. But the world is

alwayschanging.”She paused to take in a

long, liquid breath. “Moreimportant, the powerful maythrow dams across rivers,may dig canals, may buildwaterwheels. And that isexactly what I have done toyou, Nicodemus. I havepushedyouintotheriverthatwill oppose the demons ofLos.Iwouldseeyoubecomeariver-king.”

The sickening dread

returned to Nicodemus. Hewas all too certain what shewould say next. “And whatmetaphorical river are youspeakingabout?”

“Youseethisworldasabattlefieldbetweenyourkindanddemonkind.Buthumans,gods, anddemonsare simplycurrents in a conflict of twolarger forces: that oflinguistic order and stasis,and that of linguistic errorand change. The wizards

worship order. They look tothe forces that flow towardincreasing order. They longforaHalcyon,ariver-kingofimmutable language. Theywanteverythingmadesmoothand calm. And they fear thePetrel—a river-king ofmutable language. Theacademy fears the stormandthechange thePetrelwillbring. The academy assumesthatunchanginglanguagewillfendoffthedemons.”

Nicodemus’shandswereno longer trembling; theywereclenchedinanger.“Andyou’vedecidedthatit’schaosanderrorthatwillopposethedemons? You’ve made meinto a champion of mutablelanguage?”

Chimera growled, “Lifeis mutable language,language that grows througherror. Without error inLanguage Prime we aredoomed. This is what I

showedJamesBerr:Ishowedhimthathecouldbecometheavatar of change, ofdisruption,oforiginality.”

“Originality?”Nicodemus asked throughgrindingteeth.“Bymakingusintomonsters?”

“That which is originalcreates a new origin. Thatwhich is original, bydefinition, must stray off thepreviously worn paths. Itmust wander; it must err.

Because of me, Nicodemus,you will generate mutablelanguage, you will becomemutagenic.”

Something hot pressedagainst Nicodemus’s back.“ALLTHAT ISCREATIVECOMES FROM ERROR!”Chimera’s voice boomed inhisear.

Hespunroundand triedto grab hold of her. “Damnyou!”hebawled.“Damnyou!You’ve made me into the

Storm Petrel! You’ve mademe into the monster!” Hisarmsflailedwildlybutstrucknothing.

“Youcallthatwhicherrsgrotesque?” Chimera askedfromadistance.“Youcalltheoriginal monstrous? Thenknow that you’ve alwaysbeen the monster. You’vealways been a cacographer.This isyourtruenature.ThiswasJamesBerr’struenature.Hetoorailedagainstit,andit

consumedhim.Willyoudenyyourownself?”

“I AM NO JAMESBERR!” Nicodemusbellowed. “I never will be. Iamnoforceoferror.Iwasn’tsupposed to be this way; Iwas cursed. I’ll recover theemerald.I’llcompletemyselfandbecometheHalcyon.”

Chimera’s responsecame as a low hiss. “Youmight yet wrest the EmeraldofArahest from the demons.

Thatwouldmake your life alie. You will never escapeyour past as a cacographer.Theemeraldwouldmakeyoua partial Halcyon. But knowthat there already is a trueHalcyon.”

“Impossible!”“Fellwroth told you of

the Alliance of DivineHeretics? The renegadedeities also trying to breed atrueImperial?”

Nicodemus clenched his

jaw.“Themonstertoldme.”“ThenknowtheAlliance

has given you a half sister,your mother’s other child.She’s only a child now, butshemayonedaybecome theHalcyon.Youneverwill.”

The rage burning inNicodemus exploded.Summoning all hisstrength,he filled his bodywith miles of sharpNuminous sentences andlashedout in thedirectionof

Chimera’svoice.He shrieked as the

incandescent sentenceuncoiled into the darkness.The words of anger burnedwithadazzlinggoldenlight.

And for a moment,outlinedagainst themundaneblackness, there shone acreature made of darknesstangible. Her endless bodyspread out, looping andbulging like a worm’s. Inplaces her skin shone slick

with black slime, in othersknobby branches covered inscales erupted from herserpentineflesh.

And then Nicodemus’smisspelled sentencescrumbled into a coruscationofgoldensparks.

Chimera’s next wordshit Nicodemus like thunder.“GO THEN AND DENYYOUR NATURE! SEEKYOUR EMERALD, YOURLAPIDARYLIE!”

SUDDENLY BACK IN his body,Nicodemus found himselffalling away from theBestiary.Tearsfilledhiseyesandhotpain tore throughhisthroat.

He was shoutingwordlessly.

His tailbone struckground and shot a jolt ofagony up his spine. He fellbackward and stared at theceiling.

“Nico!”exclaimedJohn.Suddenly the big man wasleaning over Nicodemus,bending down to grab hisshoulder.

“Don’t touch me!”Nicodemus bellowed,whipping his arm around tocast out a hasty sheet ofMagnus.

The spell flashed outintoaplateofsilverlightthatsmashed into John’s hand.Themisspelled text shattered

but not before breaking thebig man’s ring finger backuntilitsnapped.

John cried out as thespell sent him sprawlingbackward.

Nicodemus pushedhimself away from John.“STAYBACK!”heyelledatShannon andDeirdre as theysteppedtowardhim.

Hot tears blinded hiseyes.Mucuscoatedhisupperlip.

“No one touch me!” hebawled. “No one touch meeveragain!”

CHAPTERForty-oneNicodemus let go ofShannon,whoturnedawaytovomit Magnus bywords ontheground.

No one spoke as heretched. Azure reformed her

textual connection toShannon and then providedan image of Nicodemussquatting beside him. Thefirelightmadetheboy’sgreeneyes seem darker, morehaunted.

“Well?” The old wizardspat out a last bit of thediseasedlanguage.

“I consolidated thecanker into a single mass atthe top of your stomach,”Nicodemus said quietly.

“Since I dealt only with thattext,Icreatednonewcurses.But my touch has made thecankermoremalicious.”

Shannonlookeddownathis belly. Indeed, a smallstream of silver prose wasalready leaking into hisstomach.

Above them, the coldwind was blowing harderthroughthetrees.

“We must get you toBoann,” Nicodemus said

flatly. “Now she can cut outthe curse.” He looked atDeirdre.Shenodded.

“I still don’t like it,”Shannon grumbled. Hethought again about howNicodemus had come out ofthe Bestiary, weeping,terrified, and filled withrevelations about theprophecies and LanguagePrime. “What if Fellwroth iswaitingforus?”

“He might be,”

Nicodemus replied in anexhaustedvoice.“Butit’souronlyoptionnow.Chimerahasmade me the Storm Petrel,madememutagenic.”

He paused to close hiseyes. “I would sooner diethan stay this way. AlliancewithBoann ismyonlyhope.And she is your only hope,Magister. Only she can cutthiscankeroutofyou.”

“He’s right, Shannon,”Deirdre said from the other

sideofthecampfire.Nicodemusstood.“John,

areyouallright?”The big man was

crouched beside the fire,gingerly holding his righthand. Shannon had splintedthe broken finger with aMagnuspassage.“Yes,”Johnsaidslowly.“Iamfine.”

“John,Iamsorry.”The big man laughed.

“I’llsayitagain:I’mhappierwith a broken finger than I

would be with a cankercurse.”

Through Azure’s eyes,Shannonwatched an ivy leafshudder in thewind. “Verywell, if we’re determined togo dashing into danger, let’sdo it before it gets too late.I’m old and it’s nearing mybedtime.”

Noonelaughed.

BEFORE THEY LEFT the ruins,Nicodemus walked into the

woods.Makingwaterwashisexcuse.Butassoonashewasaway from the firelight, hecollapsed.

No tears came. Noexpression of agony twistedhis face. But his chest roseandfell,roseandfelluntilhisfingers and forearms tingled.Theworldbegantospin.

Regaining control, heslowed his breath until thetingling left his fingers. Hefelthollow.HewastheStorm

Petrel,themonster.The insistent wind

rushed through the trees.Beyondtheirleavesshonetheicylightofstars.

He stood and wandereduntilhefoundacreek.Tohiseyes, all living things nowradiated Language Prime’ssoft cyan light. This allowedhimtoseetheglowofseveraltiny fish swimming in theblackwater.

Hewroteanetofsimple

Magnussentencesanduseditto pull a fry from the water.Withthesilverysentences,heheld the tiny fish before hisfrowning face.Hedropped itintohisopenpalm.

The poor creatureflopped about in his palm.Nicodemus could feel thething’s Language Prime textchanging every time its coldscales touched his skin. Hecould feel the power of hisspellwriting accelerating the

changes.Inonlyafewmomentsa

shiny black growth bulgedout of the fry’s gills. “It’strue,” he mumbled, and hiseyesfilledwithtears.

Hekilledthefishwithaquick, clinching paragraphandwatchedasitscyanglowbegan to fade. It took a longtime.

At last he dropped thefryandburiedhis face inhishands.

Before him shone animageoftheemerald—small,dark, perfectly lacriform. Hetriedtofeelhisfearandangerand self-loathing. But hecould feel nothing. So heimagined the emotionsbecominglight.

He poured the light intothe emerald and watched itbegin to glow. More andmorehepoured into thegemuntilitshonewithabrilliancethat seemed to penetrate into

hisbody.Whentheyrecoveredthe

gemhewouldnolongerhaveto be afraid. He would nolonger need to feel rage orself-hatred. When theyrecovered themissingpartofhimself,hewouldceasetobeamonster.

THE FORESTED HILLS belowStarhaven descended in slowundulations for five or sixmiles to end in thewide oak

savanna.On the border between

foothills and grassland, theWesternmost Roadstretchedits dusty length from Dar inthenorthdowntotheCityofRaininthesouth.

By the timeNicodemus’s party emergedfromtheforesttostandonthehighway,allthreemoonshadrisen. The combined glowbathed the savanna in milkybluelight.

As he hugged the Indexto his chest, Nicodemussurveyed the few farms andoaks that dotted thelandscape. Several trees haddied and become wiryskeletons.

Saveforthehomesteads,waist-high savanna grasscoveredtheearthfromroad’sedge to distant horizon.Herethe wind transformed thegrassland into an ocean ofrollingwaves.

Deirdre took their onlyhorse and galloped ahead toscoutfordanger.

Thethreemenwalkedina close huddle, the windblowing color into theircheeks and tossingNicodemus’slongravenhair.Azure often ruffled herfeathers and issued low,plaintivesquawks.

Nicodemus’s keloidbegan to burn. Shannon hadwrapped the scars with

distorting Numinous spells.Nevertheless,hewatchedasasphere of Language Primeflew away from him in alldirections.Thebroadcastwasdiffuse;itwouldn’trevealhisprecise location toFellwroth.But itwould tell themonsterthathewasonthemove.

Thinking about thismadeNicodemus’sheartbeatfaster.Heclosedhiseyesandfocused on recovering theemerald—of transforming

himself from Petrel toHalcyon—until his icydeterminationreturned.

JustthenShannonhadtopause to vomit silverylogorrheabywords.

When they continuedtheir trek, Shannon showedhim how to write severalcommon language sentencesaround the Index so that itwould float in a slow circlearound the younger man’swaist.

“When wizards mustfight,” the old linguist saidgravely, “we float ourspellbookslikethis.”

Amomentlater,Deirdrereturned with auspiciousnews: there was no sign ofwizards in Gray’s Crossing.Shehad learned froma townwatchman that shortly aftersundown all the black-robeshadrunuptoStarhaven.

After another quarterhourwalking, the towncame

into view around a bend. Itwas not much to look at: ahuddle of round Lornishcottagesclusteredaroundtwoinns,asmithy,afuller,andasmall common. At thehamlet’s center sat theintersection of theWesternmost Road and thesmaller road that ran up toStarhaven. Most of theinhabitants were farmers orshop-keeperswhosold to thewizards.

WithDeirdreleadingtheway,thepartyhurriedofftheroad and into the trees.Cautiously, they picked theirway so as to emerge behindthe stables of a dilapidatedinnnamedtheWildCrabtree.

Deirdre hustled theminto the back of the buildingand up a flight of ricketystairs. Shannon wrote aflamefly spell and scatteredthe incandescent paragraphsaroundthepartysoastolight

theway.“The inn’s owner is a

Highlander,” Deirdrewhispered. “He rents the topfloor to Dralish smugglerswho buy weapons in Spiresand run them down to theHighland rebels. There’s asecret compartment in thefloor where they hide theblades.”

She stopped before adoor. “Be quiet now; I haveto let the other devotees of

Boannknowweare friends.”She knocked twice and thenfroze.

Herhandhadpushedthedoor open slightly. Inside itwasdarkandsilent.

“Careful,” Shannonwhispered, a sphericalMagnusspellappearinginhishand.

Deirdre drew thegreatswordfromherbackandthenpushed thedoorwide tolet the light from Shannon’s

flamefly spell fall into thedarkroom.

Peering past hershoulder, Nicodemus saw—sprawled across the floor—amotionlessbody.

THEREWEREEIGHTdeadmen,three women. Not a drop ofbloodonanyofthem.

Shannon found a slowlydeconstructing Numinousparagraph lodged behind theear of one victim.

“Fellwroth,” he said,inspectingthetext.“Attackedmaybetwentyhoursago.”

The three connectedrooms were spacious andsparsely furnished.Nicodemus walked into thefarthest room and noticed abowl of stew sitting on atable. “The monster tookthem by surprise,” he noted,looking at the fat congealingat the bowl’s edge. “No signofstruggle.”

Johnwenttoeachofthebodies and closed theirstaringeyes.

Meanwhile Nicodemusstudied the ceiling. With hisnew knowledge of theoriginal languages, he couldsee the cyan auras of rats asthey scurried among therafters.

Deirdre stood unmovingby thedoor.Her lipspressedwhite against each other. “Itmakes no sense,” she said.

“There’s no way Fellwrothcould have known the arkwashere.”

“Deirdre,” Shannon saidfrom across the room, “I amsorry for your loss. I don’tknowifyouknewthesesoulswell,but—”

“Boann’s ark ismissing,” she interjected. “Imustgetitback!”

Thegrandwizardlookedat her. “What does the arklooklike?Couldithavebeen

hidden?”“It is a standing stone,

six feet tall, two wide, twodeep. The edges are smooth.Itisawaterark—mostoftheyear it rests in one of theHighlandrivers sacred toBoann. Three parallel linesflowdown from its top; theysymbolizeherrivers.”

Nicodemus looked atDeirdre.Somethingabouttheark’s description stirred hismemory.

Deirdre began pacingaround the roomand lookingdown at the wooden floor.“There is a chance it washidden. The tavern’s ownerbuiltasecretcompartment inthe floor. The other devoteesmay have concealed the arkinit.”

She bent down andknocked on the woodenplanks.“Wehavetobequiet.But we can find thecompartment by listening for

anechoingknock.Oneofthedruidstoldmeso.”

Again something pulledatNicodemus’smemory.Hishands were wringing eachother. He glared at thetattooed things and willedthemtostop.

Both John and ShannonhadjoinedDeirdreinrappingsoftly on the floor. “If wecan’t find the ark,” Shannonsaid,“thenwehavenochoicebuttofleeforStarfallKeep.”

“I won’t leave mygoddess behind,” Deirdreinsisted.

Shannonshookhishead.“But if Fellwroth has stolenthe ark, it could beanywhere.”

The avatar continued toknock on the floor. “Then Iwill make Fellwroth tell mewhereitis.”

John was tapping thefloorbythewindow.

Shannon grunted in

annoyance. “Even if youcapturedagolem,themonsterwould simply disengage hisspirit.Andwehaven’tacluewhere Fellwroth’s true bodymightbe.”

“ThenIwillfindthetruebody,” Deirdre said whileknockingagain.

The old linguistgrimaced. “Deirdre, wemustgetNicodemustosafety.”

“We go nowhere,Magister,” Nicodemus said

coldly,“unlessit’s torecoverthe emerald or disspell yourcurse.”

Shannon folded hisarms. “It’s not enough that Imust die? You two want tojoinme?”

BeforeNicodemuscouldrespond, one of John’sknocks produced a hollowecho.

“Sweet heaven!”Nicodemus swore, taking astepbackward.Hiscoldfocus

was shattered. Now hisfrightenedmind teemed withmemories of his dreams: thedying nightmare turtles, thepale ivy, the body shroudedin white. He rememberedwalking on the SpindleBridge with Shannon, theirbootheelsclackingunusuallyloudlyonthebridgestone.

“Sweet heaven,” heswore again and grabbed theIndexfromthesentencesthathad been floating it around

hiswaist.Hesatheavilyinanemptychair.

Theotherswent to Johnand helped him hoist up atrapdoor.

“It’sempty,”NicodemusheardhimselfsayasDeirdre,John,andAzurepeereddownintothesecretcompartment.

Deirdre stared at him.“Howdidyouknow?”

Memories flashedthroughNicodemus’smindsoquicklytheymadehimdizzy.

“We’ll need adistraction.” His words werequick and anxious. He wastrying to speak as fast as hewas thinking. “With thesignal text from my keloiddiffused, he’ll never realizewe’re so near. We can slayhis living body. But thedistractionwillhave tomakehim use a golem and…whenthelivingbodyisdead,Icanuse the emerald to disspellMagister’s canker.OrBoann

might…but I’ll have theemerald.”

A wave of heat washedthrough his body. “I’ll havethe emerald.” He stood anddropped the Index back intoits floating orbit around hiswaist.“I’llbecomplete!”

All three of them werestaring at him now. “Whatunderheavenareyou talkingabout?”Shannonasked.

Nicodemus went to thefar window and removed its

paper screen. The roomlookedoutontheforest.Highabove the skyline, cutting ablack silhouette against thestars,stoodStarhaven’smanytowers.

“We can recover theemerald,”hesaid,“becauseIknow where to findFellwroth’s true, livingbody.”

NICODEMUSPURSEDHISlips.“Ishould have known when I

was replenishing the ghosts’book and saw through theyoung Chthonic’s eyes. Iknew the Chthonic’sthoughts; I knew that theChthonic people firstemergedfromtheunderworldupthere.”

He nodded out thewindow toward Starhaven.“They came out of a cavehigh up on the rockface. Ilearned that the Chthonicsprotectedthemselvesfromthe

attacks of an older race theycalledtheblueskinsbyfillingthecavemouthwithpowerfulmetaspells.Andtheblueskinsfilled the cave mouth withtortoise-likeconstructs.”

“But we know this,”Deirdre said. “You saw in alatervisionthattheChthonicshadcollapsedthecave.”

Nicodemus looked backat the avatar. “I saw that thecave was gone, but theChthonic whose eyes I was

seeing through never thoughtaboutthecave.Hismindwaspreoccupied by the humanarmy laying siege toStarhaven.”

“The cave wasn’tclosed?”Shannonasked.

Nicodemus shook hishead. “And Fellwroth’s truebody lies in that cave. In adream I saw ivy—representing the Chthonicmetaspell—and the turtles—representing the blueskin

constructs—attackingFellwroth’s body.They mustrepresent the ancient spellsstill resisting Fellwroth’sintrusionintothecave.”

Shannon made a low,disapproving sound. “Butweknow that Starhaven’sChthonic metaspells preventFellwroth from creating agolemwithinthestronghold’swalls.”

Nicodemus clenched hisfists. “But the cave isn’t

withinStarhaven’swalls.Thecave is filledwithmetaspellsmuch older than those inStarhaven.”

He turned to Deirdre.“Boann’s ark is also in thatcave. I saw it in my dreamstanding behind Fellwroth’sbodyinthesecondnightmare.I didn’t knowwhat itwas atthe time. But just now,Deirdre, when you describedit to me, I realized what itmustbe.”

“Sothecaveishidden?”John asked slowly. “Someancient spell opens themountain?”

Nicodemus shook hishead.“ThinkoftheSpindle’sshape. All other Chthonicbridgesare thinand flat.TheSpindle is as round as a treebough.Andwhenwewalkedon it, our footsteps echoed.Remember, Magister, theracket the sentinels madewhen marching toward us?

And, Deirdre, what did itsound like when the war-weight gargoyle walked ontheSpindle’slanding?”

She nodded. “Like adrum…like the sound wasmovingdownthebridge.”

“Exactly,” Nicodemussaid. “And in one of mynightmares, I was movingthroughatunnelthatendedinthechamberwithFellwroth’sbody. When I was goingdown that tunnel, Iheardmy

ownvoicetalkingtoMagisterabouttheChthoniccarvings.Iheard that voice pass aboveme.”

“So the Spindle Bridge—”Shannonstartedtosay.

“Isn’t a bridge at all,”Nicodemus finished. “It’s atunnel. The wizards haven’tfound anything in themountain face becausethey’re searching only therock in front of them. Don’tyou see? The tunnel covers

thecave’smouth.”Deirdre was nodding,

but Shannon and John stillworefrowns.

“Itmakesperfectsense,”Nicodemus insisted. “TheChthonic languagesdeconstruct in sunlight. Andwhile the Chthonic peoplecould tolerate sunlight, theirblueskinned ancestors couldnot.TheSpindleTunnelmusthave been a diplomaticstructure—a place where the

Chthonics could meet theblueskins in darkness.” Hesnatched the Index out of itsorbit.

“Here, I’ll find amundane text that…” Hebegan to undo the book’sclasp.

“No,no,”Shannon said.“I don’t doubt your logic; Isimply wonder what we dowiththeinformation.”

Deirdre spoke quickly.“Wedoexactlywhat theboy

suggested. We cut our wayinto the Spindle and tearFellwroth’s body to pieceswhilethefiend’smindisstillinthegolem.”

“Is the Fool’s Ladderstill in place?” Nicodemusasked. “Ifwe hike around tothe back of Starhaven, couldit takeusup to theSpindle’slanding?”

The grand wizardscowled. “It could, but thisplanistoodangerous.Whatif

Fellwroth is not in hisgolem?”

“Running wouldn’t besafer,” Nicodemus insisted.“Fellwroth can follow mebecause of my keloid scars.And, Magister, my dreamswere sent to me by theemerald. It wants to berescued.”

Shannonshookhishead.“Nicodemus, you and I arelinguists,notsentinels.”

Deirdrerestedahandon

Shannon’s shoulder. “Onlythis plan will rescue mygoddess’s ark. It is the onlyoneIwillaccept.”

Nicodemus closed hiseyes.“It is theonlyplan thatwillrecovertheemerald.”HeopenedhiseyesandstaredatShannon. “And it is the onlyplan that will disspell yourcurse.”

“Andme,”saidJohn.“ItistheonlyplanIwillaccept.”

All eyes turned to the

bigman.“For decades, I lived

under thedemon’scurse. If Ihave a chance to end thismonster, a chance forrevenge, I will accept noother.”

Shannon started to saysomethingbutthenstopped.

“Besides,” John saidslowly, “I think I know howtoreachFellwroth.”

Shannon drew in a longbreath and let it out through

his nose. “You know how toreachthemonster?”

“It depends, Magister,”Johnsaidwithasolemnstare.“IneedtoknowexactlywhatFellwroth said when he setyoufree.”

CHAPTERForty-twoIn a new clay golem,Fellwrothstoodonabalconynear the top of the ErasmineSpire.

A squat gargoylewith amonkey’s body and goat’s

head sat on the railing.Fellwroth had rewritten theconstruct tosiphonencryptedmessages from the wizards’colaboris spells. The agentsof the Disjunction had longagolearnedhowtotacktheirtexts onto wizardlycommunications.

So far the goat-facedgargoyle had performedperfectly. In Fellwroth’shands glowed several goldenpassages from other

important demon-worshipers.“Whenwerethesereceived?”

The gargoyle’s replywas slow and monotone.“Two hours past the dawnbell.”

There were severalemerging situations thatwouldsourwithoutattention.Dar in particular wasconcerning; the demon-worshipers there werebecoming increasinglyunresponsive. Likely they

werehidingsomething.“Reply to Dar,”

Fellwrothcommanded.“Theyare to expect my arrivalwithin a twelve night. Andtheyare—”

A rat gargoyle with adog’s ear growing from itsback scurried up the railing.Fellwroth smiled. “Mynewest creation, what haveyouoverheard?”

The stony canine earflattened against the rat’s

back. “Three sentinels cameto the gatehouse momentsago,” the small constructsqueaked. “They werepatrolling the road to Gray’sCrossing. They told theguards they have NicodemusWeal.”

Fellwroth’s lips curledinto a smile. This wasexpected. The emerald hadknownNicodemuswasonthemove. “Did they say wheretheyaretakinghim?”

“Tothestasisspellinthestables,” the rat replied.“Untilaprisoncellischosen.

Henodded.“Verygood.NowIwant—”

Anotherofthestoneratsscurried onto the ledge.“Noises in the Spindle,” itsqueaked.

“Whatkindofnoises?”Theratbegantowashits

whiskers. “Scraping noises.Grating noises. Like wemake.”

Fellwroth grunted inannoyance. “Remind me toedit your sensitivity. I don’twanttobenotifiedeverytimeyouoverheararat’snest.Butwe can deal with that in amoment.Fornow, all ofyoubacktoyourfunctions.IhaveaLanguagePrimespellwrightto collect.” With thatFellwroth let the clay golemdeconstruct.

Theworlddissolvedintoblackness as his spirit—

whichhadbeenanimatingthegolem—leaped into the airand then shot down toStarhaven’s Spirish Quarter.Though subtextualized,Fellwroth needed to avoideven the remotest chance ofdetection; without a body, aspirit was exceedinglyvulnerable.

Thespiritfloatedamongthetowerstodescendintoanabandoned alleyway. Earlierthat day, Fellwroth had

commanded a gargoyle toplaceabagofsandthere.

The spirit found thebaglying under several weather-worn boards. Inside the sacksat three golem scrolls. Thespirit slipped its narrowsentences into the sand andpulledthespellsfree.

The new body began asa speck of pain thatblossomed into a beatingheart, a breathing chest, ahead,twolegs,twoarms.The

bagsplitandwithalongsighspilled its excess sand ontothecobblestones.

Fellwrothstruggledtositup in the new, brittle body.Vision was always the lastsense a golem acquired. Atfirst theworld appeared onlyasfuzzyblotches.

ForthisreasonFellwrothalways placed a white cloakor sheet near the incarnationsite. It was vital to cover agolemwithclothwhileitwas

still fresh; otherwise bits ofthebodywouldruboffonthesurroundingenvironment.

With some fumbling,Fellwroth found the whitecloak. Old tattered boots satunderit.

Once his golem wasdressed, Fellwroth trotted offtoward the Spirish stables.Therewasnotimetolose.

His vision had returnedcompletely by the time theSpirish stables came into

view. The black-robed foolswere protecting the placewith only four guards—allmale, only one with a grandwizard’s hood. In one of thestalls gleamed a silveryMagnus column. That wouldbe the stasis spell holdingNicodemus.

Fellwroth wrote fourquick, subtextualized censorspells. “Hold, druid,” thehooded guard called uponseeing Fellwroth’s white

robes.“Thesestablesarenowoutofbounds,we’ve—”

Fellwroththrewacensorspellintotheman’sface.Thenetlike text dug into theman’s mind and set his eyesrollingbackashefainted.

The other three guardscalledout,butitwastoolate.Fellwroth caught them withtheremainingcensorspells.

“Nicodemus Weal,”Fellwroth said with a laugh,and stepped into the stables.

“You are not as foolish as Ithought.”

The stasis spellmanifested itselfasacolumnof slowly rising Magnuspassages that entrapped aman as firmly as tree sapimprisoned a bug; somethingNicodemus seemed to bediscovering. The upwardcurrent of sticky words hadlifted the boy four feet intothe air and was slowlyrotating him. Currently a

black-robed back facedFellwroth.

Fellwrothbegantowritea Numinous disspell downthesandgolem’srightleg.“Iwill edit you from the stasis,boy, so don’t squirm—” Hejerkedbackinshock.“You!”

Staring down with alopsided smirk was the bigmale cacographer whosemindTyphonhaddistorted.

“Whatismeantbythis?”Fellwrothgrowled.

The big man’s mouthquivered. “Siii…Simple Johnshow himself to northsentinels on road. T-th-theynever have seeNico, so theybelieveJohnwhenhesaysheis Nico.” The big manexhaledas if sayingsomuchexhaustedhim.

Fellwroth resisted theurge to grind the golem’ssandyteeth.“Don’twastemytime, oaf. If the sentinelscome before I have answers,

I’llripyouinhalf.”The cacographer started

tostutterandstruggle,butthestasis text kept the oafspellbound. Fellwroth waitedimpatiently forwhat felt likea quarter hour beforespeaking. “All right, calmdown.Iwon’thurtyouifyoutellmewhatIneedtoknow.”

Thebigmanswallowed.“Nnnn…Nico sends John asmessenger. Nnnn…Nicowants tohaveproof that red-

eyes man is…t-t-telling thetruth.ThenNico submit to…submit-t-t…tored-eyesman.”Theoafstoppedtopant.

Asoftcrunch inhis jawfilledthegolem’smouthwithsand.“Bloodanddamnation,”he cursed and spat the sandout. He had beenunconsciously grinding thegolem’s teeth.“Sowhatdoestheboywant?”

The oaf took a fewbreaths. “Red-eyesman is to

go t-t-to place in Gray’sTown…no, Gray’s Village…no,Gray’sCrowing…”

“Gray’s Crossing,”Fellwrothsnarled.“Hurry!”

The cacographernodded. “Red-eyes-man is tofind Mag-g-gister Shannonand is to fix broken personpart of Shhhh…Shannon.Nicowillbe—”

A ratlike gargoylescurried into the stable.“Fear!Fear!Tooktoolongto

reach you. Had to ask othergargoyles where to reachyou.”

Fellwroth glared at theconstruct. “What is it?Whatdidyouhear?”

“Fighting in theSpindle!” the thing yelped.“Our protections torn apart!Livingbodyunderthreat!”

Suddenly the stablesrang with loud, heartylaughter.

Fellwroth looked up at

the big man’s smiling face.“Fool! So willing to believein my disability? You trulythinkItalkthatslowly?”

A wordless, animalshriek escaped fromFellwroth’ssandythroat.Themonster lashed out with thehalf-written disspell. But theunfinished text was too dull.Itbouncedoffthestasisspell.Worse, the force of therebound snapped the sandarmoffattheshoulder.

“WEAL!” Fellwrothshrieked, “I’LL TEARYOURTHROATOUT FORTHIS,WEAL!”

Fellwroth wrenched hisspirit from the sand golemand sent it racing upwardtowardtheSpindleBridge.

FELLWROTH’S TRUE EYESsnappedopen to seeDeirdre.Her rustedgreatsword swungup above her head and thenflashed downward with all

herdivinemight.Fellwroth flinched, but

the blade came to a clanginghalt as it struck the Magnusshieldwrittenabovetheblacktable.

Light from a hundredflamefly paragraphsilluminated the cavern.Previously Fellwroth hadseen the place only in thedark.

Thelowceilingsparkledwithquartzchips.Thecavern

widenedonlyalittlewayintothe mountain. The floor wassmoothandgray.

Boann’sark—encasedinNuminous—stoodattheheadof the table. Farther into themountain, the caverndescendedintomyriadkoboldtunnels.Intheotherdirectionloomed the entrance to theSpindle’s tunnel. A patch ofstarry sky shone through aholethehumanshadtornintothetunnel’sroof.

With another screech,Deirdre’s greatsword crasheddown onto the textual shieldaboveFellwroth.Aplate-likeparagraph buckled under thestrain.

Suddenly the worldflashed full of golden light,and Fellwroth realized thatShannonwas standingbesideDeirdreanddashingdisspellsagainst the shield. The blueparrotsatontheoldlinguist’sshoulder.

More terrifying,Nicodemus—standing at thetable’s foot—was jamminghis fingers into the shield.Blurry rings of misspelledprose radiated out from thewhelp’stouch.

Fellwroth bellowed outhisrageandterror.Theattackhad almostworked. If the bigoaf had distracted him for afewmomentsmore, the threehumans would have brokenthrough his shield and slain

hisbody.But now his left hand

closedaroundtheEmeraldofArahest.Withaflashofheat,the gem bestowed the abilityto craft infinitely detailedprose without error. Whentouching the artifact, aspellwright did not fearmisspelling even whenextemporizing the mostcomplextext.

With a savage yawp, hepunched a fist of incendiary

Magnussentencesagainsttheprotective shield. The spellexploded outward withenough force to knock thethree humans onto theirbacks.

Fellwroth leaped off thetableandturned.

The avatar was the firstto attack. She launchedherself across the stone tableandthrustouthergreatsword.

Extemporizing throughthe emerald, Fellwrothwrote

afineMagnuslaceandcastitfromfloortoceiling.

Deirdre’s sword pointstuck into the mesh. Theblade snapped a singlesentence but then turned.Shockwidenedthegirl’seyesas a force invisible to hertwisted the sword out of herhands.Herbodycrashed intothemesh.The spell stretchedbut did not break. She fellawkwardlyontohershoulder.

Fellwroth wrote a thick

Magnus chain and tied itaroundherneck.

Gasping, the womangrabbed the spell andheavedagainst it. Only the divinestrength in her arms kept thetext from crushing her neck.But that strength would notlastlong.

The cave flashedbrighter.Fellwroth lookedupto see Shannon cast amany-bladed Numinous spell. Theparrot on the linguist’s

shoulderscreamed.Though impressivefora

human text, the spell posednorealthreat.Withawaveofhis hand, Fellwrothextemporized a spray ofNuminous disspells thatripped Shannon’s attack intofragments.

Shannon kneeled andslammed his fist against theground, casting a tundernspell. Like subterraneanlightning,thesilveryboltshot

throughthestonefloor.Itwasmeant to erupt into a geyserof crushing sentences. ButFellwrothstampedhisfootonthe incoming spell andshatteredthetextasifitweremadeofglass.

With a short laugh,Fellwroth wrote a thinMagnus net andwith awristflick cast the thing aroundShannon’s stomach. As thespell tightened, the wizardhadtoturnawaytovomitout

the logorrhea bywords thathadfilledhisbelly.

Through the emerald’spower, Fellwroth could seethat the canker curse in thewizard’s stomach hadconsolidated.Thatwould notdo. Fellwroth cast a net ofLanguage Prime thatscattered twentynewcankersthroughouttheoldman’sgut.

With another flick,Fellwroth cast a Numinouscensor spell around

Shannon’s brain. When thetext dug into the wizard’smind, the old man collapsedand left his parrot to flap inshortcircles.

Something struckFellwroth’s head. The worldspun for a moment but thenstopped, leaving only aringing in his left ear. Somekind of subtextualizedcensoring spell? Fellwrothturned to see Nicodemus’sfacetwistwithrage.Theboy

had written several whitesentences around an ancientcodexandwasusing themtofloat the open book besidehim.

The whelp must haveattemptedacensoringspellina language Fellwroth did notknow.“Sohereyouareinallyour glory, Nicodemus. Theheir to the Imperial familyand you’ve got nothing towritebutcacographicmush.”

Theboypulledbackhis

right fist as if to make asecond attempt. Amused,Fellwroth raised his palm,ready to disspell the boy’stextintononsense.

But no spell formed inNicodemus’s hand. The boylunged forward and slammedhis knuckles into Fellwroth’sjaw.

The brief contact withtheNicodemus’sskinshowedFellwroth a glimpse of theboy’s past—a beautiful

womanwithlongbrownhair,reading.

Not caring what privatememory was now flashingthrough Nicodemus’s mind,Fellwroth cast a voluminousMagnus wave that knockedthe boy back onto the stonetable. The boy’s spellbookstruck the tabletop and layopenbyhiship.

“There shall be nomore!” Fellwroth bellowed,and raised the emerald.

“Today, Nicodemus Weal,your mind shall besplintered.”

A wafer-thin Numinousparagraph grew from theemerald to become thethinnest of blades. Fellwrothstepped forward and swungthetextualsworddown.

Desperately, Nicodemuslurched backward but foundhishandsuselessontheslicktabletop.

Fellwroth’s arm flashed

through theair,butwhen theblade was an inch fromNicodemus’sbrow,ablastofcrimson light burst fromBoann’s ark and struckFellwroth’shand.

The blow was notstrong, but it was enough topry the emerald fromFellwroth’spalefingers.

Thegemdropped.The instant Fellwroth

lostcontactwiththeemerald,the Numinous blade

misspelled into dull sentencefragments that splashedharmlessly into Nicodemus’sface.

“No!” Fellwrothbellowed.

The green stone fellquietlyontotheboy’schest.

In that moment,Fellwroth recognized theemerald’s betrayal: it hadsomehow told Boann’s arkwhenandhowtopullitfree.

The boy’s hand flew up

tohischestandclosedaroundtheemerald.

ASAMADIANDKalehurriedtothe stables in the SpirishQuarter, the secretaryexplained about SimpleJohn’s appearance and thegolemattack.

To Amadi’s profoundrelief, two of the provost’sofficers—the rector and thedean of libraries—followedclose behind. They were

coming from a closedmeeting inwhichAmadihadtried to explain the events ofthe past two days to theprovost.Ithadnotgonewell.Blessedly,Kalehadsavedherwithurgentnews.

Bythetimetheyreachedthe stables, two of hersentinels had edited John outof the stasis spell. Thoughthey had censored the bigman, they had also sat himdownon a stool and brought

himacupofwater.“John,” Amadi said

when she stood before thecacographer. “Where areShannonandNicodemus?”

He pursed his lips andlooked at her with narrowedeyes. “You wouldn’tbelieve,”hesaidslowly.

“I know about thegolem,” she said curtly.“Blood of Los, but I knowabout thegolem!And Ihavea day, maybe two, to prove

that thecreatureexistsor theprovost will censor magicalliteracyoutofmymind.”

The big man thoughtabout this before nodding.“Nico and Magister havegone to attack the golem’sauthorintheSpindleBridge.”

Amadi took a longbreath. “That’s a long wayoff.Andformingapartywilltake time.” She stopped.“Yousaid‘in’thebridge?”

“Go there,” said John.

“You will see what I mean.Only…” He paused. “Onlytake all your spellwrights…andallyourstrongestwords.”

CHAPTERForty-threeNicodemus saw no dazzlingflash, felt no rush of power.Everythingseemedthesame.

And yet, somehow, heknewexactlywhattodo.Hisright hand tightened around

the emerald and his leftlandedontheopenedpageoftheIndex.

His mind flashed intothe Index’s starry sky tocollide with tirade—an epicNuminous-Magnus spellpossessing an aggressive andself-reflexivestyle.

A scriptorium of grandwizardswouldhaveneededayear to craft such a versatiletextwithouterror.

But when Nicodemus

forged within the emerald,perfectly formed sentencesexploded into his hand andspilled down his arm. In thenext heartbeat, he blazedfrom toe to tongue withviolentlanguage.

The spell’s dazzlingglare illuminated Fellwroth’swhite-robed figure. Thecreature’s hood had fallenduring the fight, andNicodemus looked on hisenemy’sface.

Limp white hair hungdown to Fellwroth’s thinshoulders. His pale skinshone with a dull sheen likemaggot’s flesh. His smoothjaw,hollowcheeks,andsnubnose seemed human butstrangelyasexual.

Between the creature’spalelipsopenedamawfilledwith a hundred quiveringtendons. His eyes gleamedred.His foreheadpresentedagolden rectangle of flowing

Numinoussentences.With a backhand slash,

Fellwroth cast a spray ofneedle-likedisspells.

But Nicodemus threwout both hands and cast histirade. The spell produced aNuminous sheet thatenveloped the disspells andthen discharged a Magnussphere. This latter passagesmashed into Fellwroth’schest and knocked themonstertotheground.

Nicodemus leaped upfrom the table and cast athousand filaments ofintertwined Numinous andMagnus.

Though sprawled on thefloor, Fellwroth thrust hisrighthandupwardtoproduceanothersprayofdisspells.

But Nicodemus’s tiradewastoocogent.Thefilamentsdarted through Fellwroth’sdisspellsandunwound.

The Magnus tirade

coiled around the creature’sbody,bindinghisarmstohisside and wrapping his legstogether. The Numinoustiradespunawebaround themonster’s mind, cutting himoff from all magicallanguage.

“Hold!”Fellwrothcried.“Iyield!”

NICODEMUS STOOD OVER hisspellbound foe expecting tofeel triumphant.But theonly

emotion he felt wasuncertainty.

Just what in theCreator’s name happenednow?

Though tirade’s glowhad faded, the remainingflameflyparagraphsprovidedample light. Nicodemuslooked around and sawDeirdre lying on the floor.She was struggling againstthe Magnus chainscontractingaroundherneck.

Nicodemus caught thetext between thumb andforefinger.Usingtheemerald,he gleaned the spell’sstructure and edited twopassages.Alinksnapped,andDeirdre yanked the thingfromherthroat.

Across the cavern,Shannon was lyingmotionless on the ground.Azure stood beside him,trying to pluck Fellwroth’scensoring text out of the old

man’smind.Nicodemusthoughtfora

moment and thenextemporized a vinelikeNuminousdisspell.Hecast itonto Shannon with anunderhand toss. The disspellgrew up the old man’s bodyand delicately removed thecensoringtext.

Groaning, Shannonbegantostir.

A smile crept acrossNicodemus’sfaceashisself-

doubtbegan to fade.Withoutthe emerald, he would havemisspelled sucha textwithinmoments.Hewaswholenow,complete.

“You cannot killme,” avoice rasped. “Without me,Shannonwilldie.”

Nicodemus turned backtoseeaspellboundFellwrothglaring at him with balefulredeyes.

“Only I can disspell theold wizard’s canker curses,”

thecreature rasped.“Ispreaddozens more throughout hisgut.Youneedme.OnlyIcanteach you how to removethem. Only I can teach youthe meaning of LanguagePrime. You will neverunderstand that life is madeofmagicaltextand—”

Nicodemus flicked aMagnus gag across themonster’smouth.

He went to Shannon.The old man was on his

hands and knees, vomitinganother glowing pool oflogorrhea bywords. Threadsof blood now coiled withinthesilverytext.

It seemed thatFellwrothhad told the truth aboutplanting more curses inShannon’sbody.

“No,” the old linguistsputtered while trying towaveNicodemusaway.“Findout about the Disjunction.Questionthemonster.”

Nicodemus scowled.“Magister,holdstill.Ihavetodisspellyourcurses.”

“Later,” Shannongrunted. “The sentinels willbe here soon. We must getFellwrothto—”

“Magister!” Nicodemussnapped. His voice was firmthough his hands had gonecoldwith fear. “Bequietandholdstill!”

The wizard sat on hishaunches. “Very well, but

hurry.Wedon’thavelong.”Nicodemushad to touch

the old man to disspell thecurses.But ashe reached forhis teacher’s cheek, his handfroze.Itwasshaking.

“I’m not the StormPetrel anymore,” hewhispered to himself. “Iwon’t curse him. I’m theHalcyonnow.”

Itwasn’tsupposedtobelikethis.Hehadtheemerald.His doubt and fear should

have vanished with hisdisability.

“IamtheHalcyonnow,”he assured himself andpressed his palm against histeacher’s cheek. The oldwizard drew in a sharpbreath.

Suddenly Nicodemuswas looking throughShannon’s skin and sinew totheoldman’sstomach.Itwasnotpinkfleshhesaw,butthecyan glow of the organ’s

Language Prime text. Fiveknobs stood out on theotherwiseregular folds.Theyglowed brighter than the restofthestomach.

Nicodemus set aboutdisspellingthecankers.Itwasdifficultwork; Fellwroth hadcruelly restructuredShannon’s Language Primeprose. Worse, the old manflinched every timeNicodemus made a majortextualchange.

“Is it done?” Shannonasked when Nicodemusremoved his hand. The painhadmadehis faceshinewithsweat.

“I disspelled the worsecurses around your stomach,but I saw smaller cankers onother organs. They’re notgrowingquickly.And Iwanttostudythemmorebefore—”

“Disspell them later,”Shannon saidwhile restoringAzure to her perch on his

shoulder. “We haven’t longbefore Starhaven realizeswe’rehereandcomesforus.”

Nicodemus helped histeacher stand. “Why do weneedtoworryabouttheotherwizards?”

Shannon took a step onunsteady legs. “When theprovost learnsthetruthaboutyou, Nicodemus, we’ll landin the largest embroilment inthe history of academicpolitics. If we want to avoid

becoming the provost’spolitical prisoners, we mustlearneverythingwecanfromthatmonster.”

Nicodemus turned tolook at Fellwroth, stillspellbound and lying on thefloor.

Deirdre had pickedherself up and gone toBoann’s ark. Fellwroth hadwritten a Numinous shieldaround the object, but theavatar had forced her arms

through the prose to lay herhandsagainstthestone.

The contact seemed tobe strengthening the ark; aredaurawasgrowingaroundthe stone and graduallydeconstructing Fellwroth’sNuminousshield.

“Monster, I’ll have thetruth from you.” Shannonlimped over to stand aboveFellwroth. “What do youknowabouttheDisjunction?”

Thecreatureglaredwith

bloody eyes. When Shannondisspelled the gag, the thinglaughed. “With what do youthreaten me, Magister?Torture? Death? Neither willwork. You, old goat, willnever have my obedience.”The bloody eyes swiveled toNicodemus. “But the boymight.”

Nicodemus frowned.“Whatareyouplayingat?”

Fellwrothgrinned.“Youmay not need me to disspell

the old man’s curses. But Icommand the forces of theDisjunction.LetmeliveandIwill put all the resources ofthedemon-worshipersatyourcommand.You can rule as anewemperor.”

“Don’t be stupid,”Nicodemus snapped. “I’dratherrotinhellthanbeyourally.”

The monster continuedtostareatNicodemus.“Thinkon it. You can’t go to the

wizards; they will neverovercome their belief thatyou’retheStormPetrel.Theywill imprisonandmanipulateyou.Andyoucan’t trust thatgirl dressed up like a druid;she betrayed me and willbetrayyou.”

Nicodemus’s heart grewcold.“Deirdrebetrayedyou?”he asked, remembering hisfirstencounterwithFellwrothin the Drum Tower. Themonster had acted surprised

whenDeirdrehadresisted.Fellwroth ignored this.

“Wedonothavetoservethedemons,Nicodemus.Youcanuse me to resist theDisjunction. Think of theopportunities.Icanshowyouhow to find the demon-worshiping cults. I can helpyou eliminate them ormanipulatethem.Nicodemus,if you want to protecthumanity, you cannot affordtodestroyme.”

Nicodemus looked atShannon.

TheoldlinguistbegantoscratchAzure’sneck.Hetooka long moment beforenodding.

“Verywell,”Nicodemussaid, turning back to themonster.“Tellmeeverythingyou know about theDisjunction.”

“TALK FAST,” SHANNON said.“The sentinels will be here

soon.HowdidTyphon crosstheocean?”

Fellwroth’s red eyesdarted between teacher andstudent. “I amneitherhumannoraconstruct, something inbetween. By combining dustwith demonic godspells, Lossoughttocreateanewracetoreplacehumanity.Iwastobethe first of the newmen.Hegave me life, but he nevercompleted me. ThePandemonium was away at

war on the coast, trying tostop the humans fromescaping across the ocean.They had left Mount Calaxemptybut for Los and myunfinished self. A party ofpowerful human avatarssurprised the arch-demon.Sacrificing their lives, theycombined their godspells todrainLosofallstrengthuntilhe became solid rock. I wasleft incomplete and forgotteninLos’smountainpalace.”

Fellwroth shifteduncomfortably beneath therestrainingMagnussentences.“Having no devotees, thedemons could not pursuehumanity across the ocean.And only Los knew how tobreaktheirbondstotheearthoftheancientcontinent.ButIampartoftheancientland—abeingmade fromgodspellsand dirt. Sowhen—centuriesafter Los’s demise—Typhoneus accidentally

discovered me, he knew Icouldbehisvesseltothenewworld. The demon implantedhimself inside of me, mademehis ark.Webuilt a crudeshipandsailedtothisland.”

“And why did youcross?” Shannon asked.“Wereyougoing to ferry thedemonsacrossonebyone?”

Fellwroth shook hishead. “Only an Imperial’sfluency in Language Primecan reanimate Los’s frozen

body, so we crossed theocean to breed one. Typhonhad reconstructed thegenealogy charts of theImperial blood-lines. That’show he created you,Nicodemus.Andoncewehadyour Language Primefluency,wesetaboutcreatinga dragon that could carry usback to the ancientcontinent.”

Nicodemus frowned.“Whynotsimplysailback?”

“Can’t be done,”Fellwroth replied. “Beingtrapped on the ancientcontinent has driven thedemons mad with bloodlust.Mindless, they stalk thesouthern shores and willdestroyanyapproachingship.TyphonandIescapedbysailonly because the demons didnot imagine it was possible.Now their fury is whetted;evenTyphonwouldnothavesurvivedalandingbyship.”

“So you need a dragonto fly over them?”Nicodemusasked.

The monster shook hishead.“Theflyinghelps,butitwouldn’t be sufficient. ThedragonIcompletedcouldfly,but the demons would havetorn it into pieces. A truedragon is more than wingsand scales. True dragons canchange the nature of amind;theymaketheirvictimsthinkunthinkablethoughts.”

Shannon exhaled. “Atrue dragon is a type ofquaternarycognitionspell?”

Fellwroth answeredwithout taking his eyes fromNicodemus. “Precisely. Onlya true dragon can travel pastthe demons toMount Calax.There we could reanimateLoswithyourability tospellinLanguagePrime.Loscouldthen tame the feral demonsand break their ties to theancient continent. Then the

War of Disjunction wouldbeginatlast.”

“So thenwhysendyourdragon toburn inTrillinon?”Shannon askedbeforelaughing dryly. “No, let meguess. You killed Typhonbefore the dragon wasfinished. When you tried tocomplete the wyrm on yourown, you failed to make itpowerful enough to get pastthe demons. So you sent thedragon against Trillinon to

causehavoc.”Fellwrothbaredhisteeth

atthegrandwizard.Shannonrespondedwith

a humorless smile. “So I amright. But tell me why youkilledTyphon.Whysabotageyourownplan?”

The monster hissed.“Typhonwas a fool.Theoldgoat was so bent uponreconstructing Los that hefailed to see that I am Los’slegacy. He jeopardized my

life for trifling matters. Sowhentheemeraldshowedmehowtokillhimintheriver,Idid so and stole part of thedemonic godspell. That’show I learned to manipulatedreams.”

“There are no moredemons on this continent,then?” Nicodemus raised hiseyebrows. “So to stop theDisjunction,allweneeddoiskillyou?”

“Not quite, boy.”

Fellwroth produced a toothysmile. “Typhon and Iestablished hidden cults inevery human kingdom, eachofwhichwillcontinue tryingto breed a true Imperial. Ifyouwant to prevent theWarofDisjunction,youwillneedme.Icanhelpyoudestroythecults or rule them. You canchoose to do either, but tohaveanyhopeofdiscoveringthem you must protect mefrom the wizards and from

that vile woman.” Fellwrothnodded to something behindNicodemus. “I won’t have abetrayernearme.”

Deirdreapproached.Hergreeneyesshonewithawildenergy. She had recoveredher goddess, her pure love.“How could I have betrayedyou, monster?” she asked.“When from the beginning Isought nothing but yourdeath?”

Something occurred to

Nicodemus. “Fellwroth, howdid you find Boann’s ark?Whybringithere?”

The creature laughedand looked at Deirdre. “Youmeanshedoesn’tknow?Herhussyofagoddessnevertoldher?”

Deirdre stepped besideNicodemus. “Hold yourtongue.” She leveled hergreatsword at the monster’shead.“OrI’llcutitout.”

“Nicodemus, Boann is

traitorous,” Fellwroth repliedhotly. “She wants to controlyou.”

Shannon steppedforward and pulledDeirdre’ssword arm down. “We needto handle this carefully,” hemuttered.

Fellwroth continued toglare at the woman. “Boannand I made an arrangement.The goddess agreed to servethe Disjunction if she couldbecomeapowerfuldemon.”

“You lie!” Deirdregrowled.

Shannon laid a hand onher shoulder. “Easy,” hemurmured.

Fellwroth laughed.“Stupid girl. You were theone who negotiated theagreement. You offered tocapture Nicodemus for mebecause I did not then knowhisidentity.”

Deirdre looked at hertwo companions. “Don’t

listen.He’stryingtotrickyouintodistrustingBoann.”

Nicodemus met hergaze. “Deirdre, how did heknow where Boann’s arkwas?”

Fellwroth was the onewho answered. “The girlbegged for her life when IcorneredherinthatChthonictower. She told me where Icouldfindthearkandhowtosurprise the druids protectingit. How else could I have

gottenitheresoquickly?”Deirdre shook her head.

“It’salie.”Nicodemus’s fingers

tightenedaroundtheemerald.Something was wrong. “Butwhy did you bring it here,Fellwroth? The spell thatknocked the emerald fromyour hand came from theark.”

The creature sneered indisgust. “Boann suggestedthat I bring the ark here to

reassuremeofherallegiance.IfIhadherark,shecouldnotbreakherwordandrunawaywithyou,Nicodemus.”

The monster sniffed indisdain. “Even though I wasfoolish enough to agree, Itookaprecaution:Isealedtheark with protective text. Itwas a strong shield, but oneshortspellcouldslip throughif the ark knew exactly howmy prose was written.Somehow the emerald

plucked thatknowledge frommy mind and fed it into thedeity inside the stone.Somehow the emerald toldthearkexactlywhentostrikeso that I would drop thestone.”

Nicodemus’s browfurrowed. “But Boannshouldn’t know about theemerald. Only you,Fellwroth, knew about theemerald. Well, you and…”He stopped himself from

saying“Typhon.”Cold terror spread

throughNicodemus.“Yousee,neitherthegirl

nor the goddess can betrusted.”Fellwrothinsisted.

“You can’t believe him,Nicodemus,” Deirdreinsisted, her chest heaving.“It’s been a year since IsinnedagainstBoann,andwearesoclosetoredeeming—”

“Deirdre, something’swrong,” Nicodemus

interrupted. “Listen, a yearagoFellwrothkilledTyphon.You started having seizuresjustafterthat.”

Deirdre shook her headagain. “We knew that,Nicodemus. We knew thatBoann saw Fellwroth killingthe demon. That’s how shelearned of you. That’s whyshesentmetorescueyou.”

“No, Deirdre,”Nicodemus said, taking acautious step closer. “We

don’t know that for fact;that’swhatwesuspected.Butwhat if it isn’t true? WhatifTyphon succeeded ininfectingBoannwhenhewasin her waters? You told usthatBoannkeptherarkintheHighlandrivers.”

Fellwroth’s crimsoneyes bulged. “Boanninhabited that river? Deirdresaid the goddess was of thecity.Nicodemus,quickly,wemust get away from the ark.

She’s not Boann’s avataranymore!”

Deirdre’sswordarmwastrembling.

Nicodemus begancomposing restrainingMagnussentences.

Fellwroth kept talking.“Nicodemus, Shannon, weneed to get away. There arefatesworsethandeath!She’snotBoann’savatar!WehavetoescapeTyphon!”

“Deirdre…” Shannon

startedtosay.But Deirdre, moving

with inhuman speed,slammed her elbow intoShannon’s face and thenthrust her blade intoFellwroth’sskull.

TheNuminousrectangleon the creature’s foreheadexploded and sent a wall offorce careening through thecavern.When the shockwavehit Nicodemus, everythingwentblack.

Thenhewaslyingonhisback staring at a torrent ofblazing Numinous prosestreaming from Fellwroth’scorpsetotheark.

Nicodemusextemporizedadisspellalonghis forearmand cast it at thetextualstream.

Buthis textcrumpled intheairandfell.

Numbing shock filledNicodemusashewatchedthedisspell shatter on the floor.

How could he havemisspelled?

He looked down at hishandsandfoundthemempty.

Theemeraldwasgone.

CHAPTERForty-fourA rumble shook the stairsunderAmadi’sfeet.

Slowly the sentinelspushed open the giant irondoors that led onto theSpindle Bridge’s landing.

Before her stretched themoonlit bridge and the darkmountains beyond. “Securethelanding,”sheordered.

The twelve sentinelswho had volunteered for theexpedition began to spreadout. They were all excellentspellwrights: tenwizards andtwo grand wizards. Threeborecaesurawands,anotheratundern wand. The restcarried spellbooks full ofwartexts.

Thedeanoflibrariesandthe rector had accompaniedthepartytoobserve.

Simple John steppedbeside her and pointed.“There!”

Amadi’s gaze followedhis finger to where theSpindle Bridge met themountainside.Aholeseemedto have been blasted in theSpindle. Out of it shone agoldenblaze.

The sentinels muttered.

Someone was casting apowerful Numinous spellfrominsidethemountain.

“Kale,” Amadi ordered,“stay herewith John and theprovost’sofficers.Therestofyou,advanceslowlyandkeepclosed ranks. Subdueanything dangerous, and killanythingnonhuman.”

DEIRDRESTOODFROZENinherthrust—legs bent, armsextended, hands locked

around the sword hilt.Fellwroth’s unmoving bodylaybeforeher.

When Nicodemus saidDeirdre’s name, her eyesmovedbutherbodyremainedasstiffasstone.

Shannon laybehindher,bleeding fromhisnoseandawoundonhisshoulder.Azurehaddisappeared.

Nicodemus went to thewizard and turned him over.He took care to touch only

theoldman’srobes,neverhisskin.Withouttheemerald,hewasonceagainthemutagenicStormPetrel.

Shannon looked up athimwithadazedexpression.“Fellwroth…isdead?”

“He is,” Nicodemuscroaked,crouchingbesidetheoldwizard.

“And Deirdre is…Typhon’savatar?”

“She didn’t know.”Nicodemus shoved his arm

underthewizard’sback.“Buthowdidyoufigure

it out?” Shannon gasped asNicodemustriedtolifthim.

“Magister, now is not—”

“No…”theoldmansaidbetween rapid breaths. “Youhavetotellme.”

Nicodemus grimaced.“Fellwroth cut Typhon inBoann’s river. After thatDeirdre started havingseizuresandseeingvisionsof

Fellwroth attacking Typhon.Somethingofthedemonmusthave infected Boann’s arkand later her avatar. Deirdredidn’t recognize the changebecause she thought it wasBoann’s punishment forhavinganaffairwithKyran.”

Only four flameflyparagraphs remained; theyhovered above Shannon,sheddingasmallpoolofwanincandescence.

Shannonshookhishead.

“Buthowdoyouknowthat?”“Fellwroth’s words,”

Nicodemus answered. “Thecreature was terrified thatTyphonwasafterus.”

Shannon inhaledsharplyasNicodemussathimup.

The younger mancontinued to explain as hedraped the old man’s armover his shoulder. “Typhonknew Fellwroth would haveto findmewhen the emeraldneeded replenishing. So he

pretended to be Boann andsentDeirdrehere.Shewastobringmeto theark; thatwayTyphon could invest his soulintomeanduseme todefeatFellwroth. But whenFellwroth caught Deirdrealone,thedemonchangedhisplan. He tricked Fellwrothintobringingthearkuphere,next to his real body,knowing that Fellwrothwouldbringmehere.”

The old wizard groaned

asNicodemushoistedhim tohisfeet.“Butwhy,”ShannonaskedasNicodemuswrappedhisarmaroundtheoldman’swaist, “did the demon wantyou in the same place asFellwrothandtheark?”

Nicodemus was nowhalf-walking,half-haulingthewizard toward the SpindleTunnel. “The demon knewthatifFellwrothdiedneartheark, he could steal thecreature’s power. So Typhon

waited for me to arrive, andthen cast a spell to tear theemerald from Fellwroth’shand and give it to me. HeknewIcoulddefeatFellwrothwhen the emerald completedmymind.Butnowhe’stakentheemeraldback.Ican’tfindit.”

Nicodemus stumbledand nearly fell. Warmthspreadacrosshischeeks.“Allthethingsthat’vehappenedinthepastfewdays,they’veall

beenpartofTyphon’splottokillFellwrothandrecovertheemerald.”

A slow clapping soundechoed through the cavern.Nicodemusstopped.

In the darkness beforetheSpindle’sentrancestoodaman—seven feet tall with asilkenmaneofredhairandabeardtomatch.

Two amused all-whiteeyes stared down atNicodemus. The

newcomer’sobsidianskinwasblack and glossy, making ithard to see his narrow noseand high cheeks. The broadmuscles on his torso bulgedas he clapped, and out fromhis back spread two longwings, checkered with redand black feathers. Aloincloth covered his groinbut not his thick, powerfullegs.

When the demon spoke,his voice rumbled.

“Impressive that youmanaged to understand somuch.” His calm laughtersounded like distant thunder.“Nicodemus Weal, you’vegrown.”

THE DEMON WORE a friendly,almost avuncular, grin.“You’ve gleaned my planalmost exactly, save for onething.”

“Typhon,” Nicodemussaidbreathlessly.

Thedemonnodded.“Setthe old one down. I’vecensoredhim.”

With a start Nicodemusrealized that Shannon hadgone slack in his arms.Careful not to touch the oldman’s skin, he laid the oldlinguistontheground.

“Have you ever seen adeity before?” Typhonrumbled,hischeckeredwingsfluttering.

Nicodemus shook his

head.The demon nodded

sympathetically. “It isoverwhelming for mostmortals. But my boy, I wantyou to overcome this. Iwantyoutothinkforme.Thinkofwhen Fellwroth discoveredyouandDeirdre in theDrumTower. What should I havedone?”

“You could have sentDeirdre into a fit,”Nicodemus said

automatically. “If she hadgiven me to Fellwroth, thecreaturewouldhave takenushererightaway.”

Typhon’s crimson beardsplit into a smile. “Correct.After Fellwroth captured theark, he enclosed it with aNuminous shield. I had notanticipated this. The spellalmost completely blockedmy control over Deirdre.That’s why she continued toexecute my previous

instructions—which were toseduce you and bring you toGray’sCrossing.”

The demon paused.“Nicodemus, it is the shameof theworldwe had tomeetthisway.Iamyourcreator.Ibrought your parentstogether, and I ensured thatyou would end up as aStarhavencacographer.”

The demon’s black lipsgrimaced. “It hasn’t been thebest home, I realize. For one

of your talents, being acacographer must have beendifficult. But the alternativewas to watch an Allianceassassin take you from me.”Heshivered. “And I couldn’twatchanotherofmyImperialboysdie.”

Nicodemusblinked.Thedemonwasstudying

him. “Fellwroth told you oftheAllianceofHeretics,yes?About the clandestine humandeities also trying to breed a

Language Prime spellwright?They have been murderingyour cousins forcenturies.And they will kill you in aheartbeat. That is why youmustletmeprotectyou.”

Nicodemus stoodparalyzed by shock. Thedemon’s tone was one ofgenuineconcern.

Typhon took a stepcloser. “We are so close toour goal now that we nolonger need to hide you in

wretched Starhaven. Join menow and you will help mecomposeanewdragon.WithFellwroth dead and theemerald restored to its fullpower, we will need onlysevenoreightyearstowriteanew wyrm. Then you willbecome the first dragon lord,a new kind of beinginvulnerable to theattacksoftheAlliance.”

This last startledNicodemus out of his

paralysis. “In a dream I wasyour dragon. I’d rather cutmyown throat thanhelpyoucreatesuchamonster.”

Typhon shook hismassivehead.“Youwerenotmy dragon; you wereFellwroth’s dragon. Thatslave turned my draft into aclichéd, fire-breathing lizard.Fellwroth never understoodwhat a true dragon is.Nicodemus, they are textsmore glorious than you can

now imagine. I could giveyou the spells needed tounderstand how gloriousdragonsareandhowgloriousyouandIshallbecome.”

Rather than answer,Nicodemuslookedaroundforan escape or a weapon. HesawonlyDeirdre, frozenstillasastatue.

“Shecan’thelpyouyet,”Typhon rumbled. “She ismyavatar now and possessesmost ofmy soul. Itwill take

timetowinherover,butyouandIwillwinher.”

WhenNicodemustookastepback,Typhonflickedhishandoutasifcastingaspell.Nicodemus flinched, butnothinghappened.

The demon frowned.“Curious,” he said. “Thecensoring text I just castaround yourmindmisspelledanddeconstructed.Doesyourcacography influencelanguageunknowntoyou?”

Nicodemus’smindfilledwith images of the nightterrors that had hidden himfrom Fellwroth. He tookanotherstepback.

Typhon flapped hiswingsonce.“Idonotwanttorestrain you. We are notenemies.”

He held out a massiveobsidian hand, in the centerof which sparkled theEmeraldofArahest.“WhenItrust you,you shall have this

back. You shall survive theWar of Disjunction and livewith Deirdre. You two willbecomethefirstdragonlords.From your children shallcome a race to replacehumanity. Demonkind willreward—”

“You crippled John!”Nicodemus heard himselfshout. “You crippled me!YouandIshallonlyandeverbeenemies!”

The demon sighed.

“Fathers and sons, authorsand texts, they often clashbefore reconciling. I amgoing to restrain you now. Ifyoustruggle—”

Typhon’s next wordswere drowned out by anearsplitting thunderclap. Abrilliant spray of Magnusflew up from the demon’sback to splash against theceiling. Someone had dasheda wartext against themaliciousdeity.

Nicodemus spun aroundand ran for the kobold cavesat the back of the cavern.Behindhim,MagistraAmadiOkeke’s voice rang out.There was a brief silence,whichwas broken by a blastofsoundsolowandloudthatitvibratedNicodemus’schestlikeadrum.

Helookedback.Typhonroaredatadozensentinelsasthey came swarming downfrom the Spindle Bridge. A

stormofsilverandgoldspellsflew from the spellwrights.Typhonpulledbackhiswingsand—

Nicodemus slammedinto something and suddenlywasonhisback.Groaning,hesat up. In front of him, hecouldfeelasolidbutinvisiblebarrier. His cheeks burnedhot. Typhon must have castsome textual wall at thecavern’send,andNicodemusmusthaverunstraightintoit.

Dazed, Nicodemuswondered how his mind hadunknowingly disspelled thecensoring text Typhon hadcastabouthimwhenhisbodyhadsmashedsopainfullyintothistext.

The barrier must havebeen written in a differentlanguage. One like theChthoniclanguages,thatusedlogical spellings. His mindquickly distorted thoselanguages with illogical

spellings. That would meanthat he could misspell thebarrieronlyslowly.

But slowly was betterthannotatall.Hepushedhishand into the barrier and felthis cacography begin tocorrupttheprose.

Another roar rolledthroughthecavern.

Nicodemus looked backto seeTyphon lunge forwardand grab a sentinel by therobes. With a one-handed

heave, the demon flung theman upward, crushing hisheadintothelowceiling.

On the cavern’s otherside, a sentinel lifted a silverhammer—a tundern wand—and struck it against theground. A subterraneanlightningbolt flewoutof theartifact and erupted beneathTyphon’s feet intoasprayofjaggedMagnussentencesandrockfragments.

But neither words nor

stone pierced the demon’sobsidian skin. With abackhandedlash,Typhoncasta bladeof red light that flewacross thecavernandcut thetundernwielderintwo.

The surviving sentinels,MagistraOkekeattheirfront,were retreating into thetunnel.

Nicodemusturnedtothetextual barrier before him. Itcontinued to shift under hishands but felt no weaker.

This was taking too long.He’d never break through intime.

“Nicodemus,” Typhonbellowed behind him. “Wemustgetyouawayfromhere.These humans will kill you.I’ve been imprisoned for toolong, and too much of mysoul is locked into Deirdre.I’mnot strongenough tokillthemallatonce.”

The five sentinels hadfallenfarbackintothetunnel.

Typhon raised a massivehand and struck the tunnelfloor.Aburstofglowing redstreamers erupted from thedemon’sfistandthenblasteddown.ThecaverntrembledaspartoftheSpindle’sfloorfellintoblackness.

With cries of shock, thesentinels ran deeper into thetunnel. Typhon cast anunseen spell that knockedfree another bit of the floor.Through the growing hole

Nicodemus could see themoonlitforestfarbelow.

A sentinel who had notretreated fast enough shoutedas the stones beneath himgaveway.Therewasasilverflash as he tried to textuallystophisfall—thennothing.

Typhonroared.Nicodemus’s head felt

light.Hislipswerenumb.Hecouldn’t deconstruct thebarrierfastenough.

One of the sentinels

threw a Numinous spell thatexploded against Typhon’sshoulder. The flash brieflyilluminated Shannon’sunmoving form. “Magister!”Nicodemus exclaimed. Hecould not leave Shannonbehind.

But how to retrieve theold man? Without theemerald he stood no chanceofinjuringthedemon.Ifonlyhe had time to write out asubtext to hide himself, he

could…“Fiery blood!” he swore

andpulledbackthesleevesofhis robes. “Of course.” Hebegan to pinch the Chthonicsentences tattooed on hisrighthand.

At first the sentenceswere recalcitrant and keptinscribing themselves backintohisskin.Butwitha furyof yanking, he managed todisengagethespell.

The Chthonic ghost had

warnedhimthatWrixlanandPithan sentenceswould scorehis skin. But even so,Nicodemus was shocked bythe searing agony thatconsumed his arms as thesentencesunwound.

Oncefreeofhisarm,thepurple language spun itselfintoGarkex,thefiretroll.

Previously the constructhad been no bigger than achild. Now the three-hornedspell stood six feet tall and

possessed arms so muscularthey bulged like flour sacksstuffedwithriverstones.

Initially Garkex wore agrumpy why-did-you-wake-meexpression,buttheinstantthe troll’s eyes fell uponTyphon they bulged withfear. With a snort, theconstruct scooped upNicodemusandbegan to tearthe other Wrixlan constructsfromhisskin.

Every inch of

Nicodemus’s arms andforearmsburnedwithpainasthe purple prose was rippedfromhim.Hefoughttheurgeto cry out as Garkex rolledhimoverandoverandpeeledoffmorefantasies.

After what felt like aninfinityofagony,thetrollsetNicodemusdown.

All of the night terrorsnowstoodaround them:Faelthe lycanthrope, Tamelkanthe eyeless dragon, Uro the

nightmare insect, and manyothers.Becausetheconstructshad absorbed some ofNicodemus’s strength bystoring themselves on hisskin,eachonehadgrown.

In the next instant thefantasies scooped upNicodemus, placed him onTamelkan’s back, andsurrounded him with theirconcealingdarkblueskin.

Typhon tossed a lastspell at the sentinels. The

Spindlehadnotfallen,butforfifty feet the tunnel’s bottomhadbeenrippedout.

“Nicodemus,theyarefarenough back,” the demoncalled. “They can’t hurt younow. Nicodemus?” He hadturned and was peering intothecavern.

“Magister Shannon,”Nicodemus whispered toGarkex.“Thebodythere.Weneedtoretrievethebodyandescape.”

Thetrollnodded.“Nicodemus, this is not

the time to hide,” Typhonrumbled. “Wizards arefinicky authors.” The demonbegan searching the cavern’snorthernedge.

The huddle of nightterrors—Nicodemussuspended in the middle—crept away in the oppositedirection.

“The wizards believe ina false prophecy and think

you are the Petrel,” Typhonsaid. “They’ll censorandkillyou.”

The pack of invisiblemonstersapproachedDeirdre.Most of her body was stillfrozen, but she hadmanagedto drop her sword. Her headhung forward and her chestheaved.

A sudden volley ofMagnusspells filled thecaveand smashed againstTyphon’s side. The sentinels

hadn’t given up. Roaringfuriously, the demon ran tothe cavern’s mouth to returntheattack.

Seizing the chance,Garkex darted out to grabShannon and slung the oldman over his shoulder.Withthe troll gone, Nicodemus’sleft shoulder had becomevisible. Typhon was stillpreoccupied by the sentinels,but Deirdre—standing notfive feet away—turned her

eyesonhim.Panic flashed hot in

Nicodemus’s mind. Howcomplete was Typhon’scontrol over her? For amoment he consideredattackinghertokeepherfromraisingthealarm.Buttheideadied almost as soon as itformed. Instead he pleadedwith his eyes and brought afinger up to his lips. Garkexreturned with Shannon andplopped the old man onto

Tamelkan’sback.Slowly Deirdre’s chest

filledwithairas ifshemightscream.

Nicodemus shook hisheadvehemently.

Her chest contracted.“Please,” she croaked, “killme.”

“PLEASE,” DEIRDREWHISPERED. “I hold most ofhissoul.”

Nicodemusfelthisblood

gocold.“Ican’t—”“Youmust,” she hissed.

“IfIdie,sowillhe.”The cavern shook again

with Typhon’s roar. A redglowgrewaroundthedemonand then flashed. All wassilent for amoment and thenadistantsentinelscreamed.

“Nicodemus,” Typhoncalled in an anxious voice.“More wizards will comesoon.”Thedemonhadturnedaround and was striding into

the cavern. “Wemust…” hisvoicediedashelookeddownto where Shannon had oncelain. “The old one,” herumbled.

“Please!” Deirdrewhispered.

Suddenly Nicodemushad to look away from anintense white blaze. It wasTyphon.Thedemonhadheldup his right hand to cast aspell that shed pure physicallight. It glared brighter than

sunshine.All around Nicodemus

the constructs screamed.Physical light deconstructedWrixlanandPithan,andeachof the night terrors waswritteninpurpleprose.

Typhon turned towardNicodemus. In the piercingblaze, the night terrors hadbecomevisible.Thedemon’sall-whiteeyesopenedwide.

Realizingthattheycouldhide no longer, Garkex

spoutedflamefromhishornsandchargedTyphon.

The other night terrorsfollowed, shrieking out acaterwaulingwarcry.

Nicodemusgrabbedholdof Shannon, just barelypulling the old man offTamelkan before the eyelessdragonchargedintobattle.

Typhon meet Garkexwith a blast of red light thatdeconstructed the construct’sleft arm. But with a brutal

right-handed slash, the trollraked his claws acrossTyphon’s cheekandknockedthedemon’sheadtooneside.The rest of the nightmaresrushed forward in a tide ofscales, tentacles, and talons.They bowled into the demonand knocked him onto hisback.

“Killme!”Deirdrecried.“His control over melessens.” Her arms had goneslack. She looked at

Nicodemus with wide,pleadingeyes.

“Deirdre, I c-can’tpossibly—”

“The blade,” she saidnoddingtothegreatswordshehaddropped.“Pickitup.”

The cavern blazedbrighterwithTyphon’swhitelight. Garkex bellowed asTyphon crushed the troll’schestwithablazing fist.Theother night terrors weredeconstructing as the light

frayed their exteriorsentences.

Nicodemus picked uptheswordandsteppedtowardthebrawl;hewouldratherdiewith a weapon in hand thanhideinacorner.

“For pity’s sake!”Deirdre pleaded. “Typhoncorruptedmygoddess.HeledmetoendangerKyran.Don’tlet me live to serve thedemon.”Tearsfilledhereyes.“He will twist my will. He

willmakemeoneofthem!”Nicodemus could not

move.Before him Typhon

leaped to his feet with adeafening roar. The demontore apart Fael, the nightterrorlycanthrope.Oilybloodnow seeped from smallwounds across the demon’shead and chest. OnlyTamelkan, the eyelessdragon,remained.

“Now!”Deirdrepleaded.

“Nicodemus, before it is toolate!”

Typhon lunged forwardandcaughtthesmalldragon’shead. With a quick twist ofthe torso the demon snappedthewyrm’sneckandthrewitaside.

Nicodemus raised hissword.

Typhon turned to him.“Nicodemus, stop. You willonlyharmyourself.”

“Nicodemus!” Deirdre

cried.“Ibegyou!”Typhon shook his head.

“Ihavechosenthetwoofyouto beget a new race after theWar of Disjunction. You areto know unparalleledhappiness. Youmust survivetogether!”

“Please,” Deirdrewhispered. Her tear-brightface shone with torment andlonging. Her trembling handdrewbackhercloaktorevealthe dirty white cloth above

her left breast. “Save me ifyoubearmeanylove.”

“No!” Typhon bellowedas Nicodemus thrust therusted blade throughDeirdre’sheart.

DEIRDRE CONVULSED. Herhands came up to grasp thesword.

Typhon howled, atorrent of crimson bloodspewing from his left breast.The demon fell to his knees,

wings flapping wildly, armstrembling.

Deirdre collapsed intoNicodemus’s arms. Theysank slowly to the floor. Shelooked up at him, strugglingfor breath. He could barelyseethroughhisowntears.

Without warning, amassive obsidian arm pulledthem apart and tossedNicodemus to the ground.TyphonliftedDeirdreupandpulled the sword from her

chest. He hugged her close.“No!” she gasped. “No!Nicodemus, help! He’shealing—”

The demon haddissolved into a dark cloudthat was imbuing itself intoDeirdre’sbody.

Confused relief floodedthrough Nicodemus. Deirdrewouldn’t die after all. Thedemon’sredandblackwingsnowgrewfromherback.Sheheld the greatsword in one

hand.Nicodemus struggled to

hisfeetandgrabbedherarm.Touching her sent a shockthrough his body and filledhis mind with a vision ofDeirdre as a girl runningthroughafieldofheather.Hesawherholdingachild.Thenhe was back in the present.She was holding him. Heronce green eyes were nowblackasonyx.

She began to whisper,

not with her own voice, butwithTyphon’s rumblingone.“Lord Severn, April, JamesBerr,” she whispered.“You’ve always been mine.The next dragon will makeyoumineagain.”

Nicodemus opened hismouthbutcouldnotspeak.

“Kill the beast!” awoman’svoicebellowedasaMagnus wartext shot overDeirdre’s head. SuddenlyMagistra Okeke and two

sentinels rushed into thecavern casting violentlanguageatDeirdre.

The sentinelsmust havemagically spanned thedistance from the fracturedSpindleTunneltothecavern.

With a shove, Deirdresent Nicodemus flying toslamagainst the cavernwall.Everything disappeared for amoment. Then he wasslouchedonthefloor.

Deirdre leveled her

greatsword at the sentinels.With blinding speed, shedodged around the spells tocharge the black-robes. Thefirst she slashed across thechest, the second across thethroat. But when she lungedfor Magistra Okeke, thewomanleapedbackintimetoavoidtheblade.

Another silver spellflashed through the cavernand knocked the sword fromDeirdre’s hands. One of the

sentinels remaining in theSpindle had renewed theattack.

With a cry, Deirdre ranfor the cavern’s entrance.Nicodemus struggled to hisfeetintimetoseeherleapoutintothetunnel.

He ran forwardandsawher drop out of the tunnel’sdecimated floor and spreadherwings.

She was too heavy tofly, but by flapping hard she

turned south and began aslow descent to the forest.Occasionallyherarmsswungout with the effort. Once,before shehad fallen too far,Nicodemus glimpsed in herhand the small, glintingemerald.

CHAPTERForty-fiveNicodemus watched untilDeirdre disappeared into theforestfarbelow.Thewindsethis longblackhair fluttering.The cold autumn nightsmelledofcomingrain.

“She will survive thedemon,” a soft voice saidbehindhim.

Nicodemusturnedtoseeashort,transparentfigurethatat first seemed tobeaghost.She stared at him with lapiseyes and pressed her widelips into a solemn line. Herhairwas not hair at all but aslow, white torrent: aminiature white river thattumbled down her back tosplash against her ankles.

Thick green robes floated allaboutherasifunderwater.

“Boann,” Nicodemussaid with a nod and abackwardstep.

“Whatisleftofher,”thefiguresaid,returningthenod.“I have escaped the prisonTyphon made for me in myown ark, but I am now tooweak to manifest myselfphysically.”

“CanyousaveDeirdre?”Nicodemus asked, taking

anotherstepaway.Thegoddesslookedpast

him to the forest in whichDeirdrehadvanished.

“No.” She studiedNicodemus.“Butonedayyoumight. I have watched you,NicodemusWeal. And whenDeirdre touched the ark, Ilearned all that she knew. IwouldswearontheCreator’snametoprotectandhelpyouin your struggle against thedemons. Do you know what

that means? For a deity toswear on the Creator’sname?”

Nicodemus had beenbacking away. Now hestopped.“Itmeansyouwouldbe bound to your oath, thatyoucouldneverbreakit.”

The young goddessnodded and held out hertransparent hand. “Will youexchangeoaths?Iwillpledgemyself to you if you pledgeyourselftofreeingDeirdre.”

Nicodemus studied thegoddess. Deities sometimesswore fealty to each other,but never to mortals. “Whywouldyouoffersuchathing?Being human, I could breakmyvow;youcouldnot.”

Boann’s hand did notwaver.“Iam littlemore thanawraithnow,unabletoaffectthe physical world. I willremain so until reunitedwithDeirdre.Unless you take meunder your protection,

Typhon’s followers will findmeandtearmeapart.”

Her voice grew urgent.“If you refuse, Deirdre willlanguish under the demon’scontrol.ItisonlythroughyouthatImightregainher.”

“Then I accept,”Nicodemus said firmly.Together they kneeled andswore on theCreator’s name—hetorescueDeirdre,shetoprotectandservehim.

Slowly they stood. She

nodded and sent herwaterfall-hair cascading overher shoulders. “The humandeities resisting Typhon callthemselves The Alliance ofDivine Heretics. My mother,the rain goddess Sian, is aHeretic.LongagoIsoughttojoin the Alliance, but theydeclined. They felt mypolitical involvement in theHighlands made me toovisible to the demon-worshipers.”

The goddess sighed.“And it seems they wereright.Myschemingsomehowalerted Typhon of myconnection to the Alliance.He sought to infect me inhopesofgainingaspyamonghis enemies. But Fellwrothattacked him during theinfection, and so the demonwon control of my ark butnever of me. In time, helearned to manipulateDeirdre, though she fought

himwithallherwill.”Boann shook her head.

“Because of Deirdre’sstrength,andyours,Fellwrothfailed to replace Typhon asthe leaderof theDisjunction.But now the demon is freeagain. If you accept myguidance, Nicodemus, I willhelp you convince theAlliance that we can helpfight the Disjunction. Willyouacceptmycounsel?”

Nicodemus looked

around the dark cavern.Nothing moved. In the otherdirection there was open airanddistantStarhaven.Sparksof gold and silver glinted inthe Spindle. Some ofMagistra Okeke’s sentinelshadsurvived.

“Goddess, I will,” hesaid. “I find myself withoutalliesordirection.”

A half-smile spreadacrossBoann’slips.

Nicodemus’s heart

ached. For a moment, sheseemed the very image ofDeirdre.

Thegoddessnodded.“Itwon’t be easy. The Alliancedeities,evenmyownmother,will distrust me now thatTyphon has invadedmy ark.Worse, the Alliance hasalready bred a LanguagePrime spellwright, your half-sister.NowthatFellwrothhasloosedadragononTrillinon,they know the Disjunction

also has a Language Primespellwright. Even now theyare sending out huntingparties to assassinate you,Nicodemus. Our task is toconvince them that you canaid the fight against theDisjunction despite your…cacography.”

Nausea filledNicodemus. He was again aStormPetrel—achampionoferror in language, unable totouch another living being

withoutmisspellingthelivinglanguageinsideit.

He closed his eyes andimagined the emerald. Hepictured his determination toend his disability as lightfallingintothegem.

“Come, Nicodemus,”Boann said, turning backtoward thecavern.“Wemustseetoyourteacher.”

“Shannon!” Nicodemusexclaimed.“Ishe—”

“He lives.” She pointed

to the old man lying on hisback. “I disspelled the textthe demon put around hismind. And I hid his birdduringthefight.”

Azure was next toShannon, nervously preeningthe old man’s silverydreadlocks. Boann reacheddown and pressed atransparent forefinger to thegrand wizard’s head. Hiswhite eyes opened.“Nicodemus?”hesaid.

“Here, Magister,”Nicodemus said, kneelingbesidehim.

The wizard sat up andmovedasiftotakehispupil’shand.

Nicodemus flinched.“You can’t touch me,Magister. I would misspellyourLanguagePrimetexts.”

The old linguist presseda hand to his temple. “Whathappened? My…” Azureclimbed up the wizard’s

sleeve to perch on hisshoulder.

Boann stood and spokeloudly, as if addressing anunseenaudience.“NicodemusWeal has defeated thecreature Fellwroth. He hasdiscovered his identity as atrue heir of the ancientImperial family. He haslearned the truth about theprophecies. He may possessthe powers of the StormPetrel, but he is not

predestined to serve theDisjunction. I, the rivergoddessBoann,havepledgedmyself to aid his struggleagainstthedemonTyphon.”

Though troubled by thegoddess’s sudden formality,Nicodemus was relieved tosee that Shannon’s nose andshoulderwoundshadstoppedbleeding. The old man wasmaking cooing sounds toAzure as he struggled to hisfeet.

“Nicodemus,” Boannwhispered. “Behind you liestheIndex.”

Nicodemus retrieved thebook.

The goddess faced thedark cavern. “How much ofthat did you overhear,sentinel?”

Out from the shadowsstepped Magistra AmadiOkeke.Abruisewasswellinguponherpaleforehead.“Allofit,goddess.”

Boann glared at thewomanwith crystalline eyes.“Then you realize, Magistra,that Nicodemus is not adestroyer?”

Amadi’s eyes widened.“Forgive me, goddess. Myunderstanding of prophecy isimperfect. When I takeNicodemus back toStarhaven, I will explain allthatIhaveseen.”

Boann laughed.“Nicodemus cannot return;

you kindled the fire ofcounter-prophecy. Thewizards now fear him toomuch.” The goddess’s eyesshonebrighter.

Amadi steppedbackward.“Butgoddess,I—”

“You must undo thedamage you have done. Youwill return to Starhaven andreport all that has happenedhere.Butyouwillnotseektocorrect the ErasmineProphecy or the counter-

prophecy. Rather, you willbecome our agent within theNuminousOrder.”

Amadi took a deepbreath.“Goddess,noonewillbelieve me. I must haveNicodemus and you toconfirmwhatIhaveseen.”

Boann tossed her longriver-hairandsentawaterfallsplashing down her back.“Fellwroth’s body will beyour evidence. You will saynothing of Deirdre. But you

will report that Nicodemusand Shannon died whenfighting Typhon. Say thedemonthrewthemoutof theSpindle;thatwillexplainwhytheir bodies won’t be found.Hopefully that will stop thesentinelsfrompursuingus,atleastforawhile.”

Amadi looked back atFellwroth’s body and thennodded. “As you say,goddess.”

“Magistra Okeke,”

Nicodemus said slowly,“what canyou tellmeof thecacographer Simple John?Doeshelive?”

The sentinel frowned.“He does. He was the onewhobroughtmehere.Welefthim on the Spindle Bridge’slanding.”

Nicodemus let out arelievedbreath.“Thewizardsmust not knowwhat Typhondidtohim.”

Amadi narrowed her

eyes.“Andwhatwasthat?”After describing how

Typhon’s godspell hadcrippled John’s mind,Nicodemus looked intoAmadi’s eyes and said, “Ifthe wizards found out, theywould suspect him of stillbeing under the demon’ssway.”

“I understand,Nicodemus,” said Amadi,pushingadreadlockfromherpale face. “I honor what the

man did to bring me here. Iwillkeephissecret.”

Nicodemus consideredher impassive expression,then nodded. “Thank you,Magistra.” He bowed hishead.“WillyoutellJohnIamsorry—”

“Nicodemus,” Boanninterruptedgently.“John,likeeveryone else, must believethat you and Shannon havedied.”

Nicodemus started to

object, but then he sawShannon. The oldman stoodjust behind the goddess,holding Azure. The grandwizardwasshakinghishead.

“Very well,” saidNicodemus,andbowedagainto Amadi. “Thank you,Magistra.”

Thesentinel’sdourgazesoftened.Shepointedoutintothe night. “I can see morespellwriting. The otherwizardswillbeheresoon.”

Nicodemus saw goldenlightintheSpindle’sremains.Thesentinelwasright.

“It is time to be gone,”the goddess announced.“Nicodemus, you must carrywhat is left of my ark.” Shegestured farther into themountain.

Nicodemus saw that theformerly massive standingstone had crumbled.Most ofit had become dust, but asingle chunk of rock, not

bigger than a cat, remained.Hewenttothenowminiaturearkandlifteditintohisarms.Three undulating lines werecarveddownitslength.

When Boann spokeagain her voice became soft,almost sing-song. “Come,Nicodemus, Shannon, wetravelintothemountains,intothekobold caves. I know thewaytoaprivatehaven.ThereweshallhealandmakereadytorescueDeirdreandrecover

theemerald.”“Butwherecanwego?”

asked Nicodemus. “Thewizardswillsearch thecavesregardless of what Magistratellsthem.”

The river goddesssmiled. “Where else can wego,” she asked, raising oneeyebrow,“buttoHeavenTreeValley?”

CHAPTERForty-sixThe party walked throughmost of the night. Thelabyrinthine kobold cavernsstretched before them. Somewere adorned withluminescent blue lichen.

Othershousedpoolsofwaterthat reflected the light ofShannon’sflameflyspells.

Theystoppedinaroundcavern near the surface. Afissureintheceilingrevealeda sliver of starry sky. Thickmoss made a bed for theweary spellwrights, butNicodemus’s sleep broughtonly nightmares of Deirdreconvulsing as Typhonwatched.

Inthelatemorning,they

pressed on. Nicodemusarguedthattheyshouldchaseafter Deirdre as soon aspossible.

At first his words metsilence. Then Boannexplainedwhytheycouldnot.Shewasweakandwouldnotgrow stronger until reunitedwith Deirdre. Shannon stillsuffered from their encounterwith Fellwroth; therewas notelling how his body wouldreact to the cankers still

seededinhisgut.“And you, Nicodemus,

are healthy but unprepared,”the goddess explained. “Wemust heal and build ourforces. You must train andstudy.”

“But for how long?” heasked.

“As long as is needed,”thegoddessreplied.

Shannon agreed.“Patience isnecessary.Thinkof the emerald. By touching

you,thegemregaineditsfullstrength. With it, Typhonwould be powerful beyondourcomprehension.But afterfouryearsawayfromyou,thegemwillloseitspower.Ifweremain hidden long enough,we deprive Typhon of hismostpowerfulweapon.”

Nicodemus objected.“But he might start anotherdragonspell.”

Shannon replied.“There’s no ‘might’ about it.

Hewillbeginanotherdragon,but he won’t complete thewyrm.Ashesaidwhentryingtowooyou,heneedssevenoreight years with thereplenished emerald. So longaswehidefromhim,hewillonlyhavefour.”

Sighing deeply,Nicodemus let himself beconvinced.

Three more days ofwalking passed. They livedoff spring water and

mushrooms Boann showedthem how to find. Twice thegoddess led them up to thesurface. Shannon castMagnus traps to pull troutfrom the streams.Boann andNicodemus searched thesparse alpine forests forautumnalnutsandberries.

Each night they sataround a campfire, but theynever found much to say.Nicodemusstoleintothedarkto study the magical

languagesoftheChthonics.Using the Index, he

taught himself Pithan. Apowerful language, itproduced luminous indigorunes that, like Magnus,could affect the physicalworld. Because of its logicalgrammar and spelling rules,Nicodemus’s cacography didnot impair his ability tospellwrite in Pithan. For thatreason he began tattooingwartextsallacrosshisbody.

Most nights this workkepthimuplate,whichsuitedhim;hissleepwasplaguedbybad dreams of Deirdre orDevin.

Often he woke with apain in his chest. It felt as ifhis beating heart werewrapped in stiff leather. Atsuchtimesheclosedhiseyesand thought of the emerald.Determinationanddiscipline,he decided, were the newguiding starsofhis life; they

would help him rescue themissingpartofhimself.Thenhe could free Deirdre, cureShannon.

At the beginning of thefifthday,Nicodemusrealizedthat his keloid scars had notcastaLanguagePrimetexttothe emerald since heencountered Typhon. Whenhe mentioned this to Boann,she nodded. “Whenimprisoned by Typhon Ilearnedthatyourscarsseekto

communicate with theemerald only when they arewithin fifty miles or so ofeach other. Fellwroth mighthave used that capability totrack you, had you fledStarhaven. But now that thatTyphonhastakenthegemfaraway, you needn’t worryaboutyourscarsbetrayinguswhile we are in the PinnacleMountains.”

Nicodemus scowled.“But that means, when we

pursue the demon, he willknowIamcoming.”

Boannnodded.“Might we cut out the

scars?”Boann shook her head

sadly. “Not without killingyou. When it was extractingyour ability to spell, theemerald made the scars toextenddownintoyourspine.”

Nicodemusshiveredandresisted theurge to touch theback of his neck. The party

continuedoninsilence.Attheendoftheseventh

day, they camped in a smallcavern with a sandy floor.Thatnight,Boannwokethemwith loud but calm words:“Shannon, Nicodemus, risequickly. Three kobolds havesmelled our fire. They are amile away and running fast.We don’t have long beforetheyattack.”

Instantly, Shannon wasonhis feet, forminga textual

connection withAzure andextemporizing powerfulMagnus spells. The campfireembersfilledtheplacewithashiftingredlight.

Nicodemus cast aShadowganger subtext onhimselfandwasabouttocastanother on Shannon whenthree humanoids burst intothecavern.

Loping on all fours, themuscled creatures movedwith shocking speed. Their

skinwassuchadeepshadeofblue it seemed darker thanblack. Their long blondponytails matched their widegolden eyes. Their blackclaws matched their jaggedblackteeth.

Shannon cast a blaze ofMagnusateachattacker.Twoof his wartexts found theirmark and detonated. Theblasts tossedonekobold intotheairandknockedtheotherflat. But the third monster

producedanax-likespellthatshonewithindigolight.Witha quick swing, the creatureburst Shannon’s wartext intosilversentencefragments.

Nicodemus’s heart wentcold. The monster was akoboldspellwright.

Bellowing, the creaturestood on his hind feet andrushed at Shannon. The oldman tried to cast anotherMagnus spell but dropped it.Nicodemus threw himself

forward and slammed hisshoulder into the monster’ship. They tumbled to theground. Then he was on thekobold, jamming his kneeintothemonster’sthroat.Thekobolddrewhis armbackasiftostrikewithhisclaws,butNicodemus pulled a dagger-like Pithan tattoo from hischest. The indigo spellilluminated the kobold’sgolden eyes now wide withterror. Nicodemus jammed

the spell into the monster’sshoulder and felt it piercemuscleandsinew.

Shrieking, the koboldthrashed violently enough toshove Nicodemus off. Theworld spun and thenNicodemus was lying on thesandyground.

The cavern echoed withhowls. Nicodemus pushedhimself up to see the koboldspellwright clawing at hismassive chest. Everywhere

the monster had touchedNicodemus, his blue skinbulged with black cankers.Beside the terrified monsterwere his two companions.Shannon’sMagnusspellshadcovered them with shortlacerations, but not killedthem.

Nicodemus stood andpulledalongtattooedwartextfrom his hip. The indigosentences folded themselvesinto a jagged broad sword

whose spikes danced likeflames.

All three kobolds fellperfectly silent and still. Thewrestling had dis-pelled partof Nicodemus’s subtext,makinghimvisibleonlyfromthe waist up. He took a steptoward the monsters andraisedhistextualsword.

The kobolds turned andsprintedaway.

“Kobolds haveprophecies as well,” Boann

observed when all was quietagain. “Theywill come backfor you, Nicodemus. Andwhen they do, I will haveworkforthem.”

Butthemonstersdidnotreturn thatnightoranyotherduringtheirjourney.

Threedays later, towardmidday, the party emergedfrom a tunnel to behold theHeavenTree.

FIVE MILES IN diameter and

almost perfectly circular,Heaven Tree Valley satwithin a tight ring ofmountains. Indeed the valleywalls were so steep that inmany places they becamesmall cliffs. Atop thesesudden drops stood grassyplateaus that were home tosmallherdsofwhitegoats.

On thevalley’s far side,a narrow stream tumbleddown, pausing in places toform pools and short

waterfalls.Alushcoveringoffernsgrewonthesurroundingrocks.

Thestreamflowedintoacrescent lake that lay alongthevalley’snorthernedge.

Giant roots—each asthick around as a Starhaventower—grew from the darkwaters to stretch toward thevalley’scenter.Allacrossthevalley floor the land heavedand bulged among the roots.Small stone walls wound

across the valley, enclosingemptyfieldsandruinedshadegardens.

Near the valley’sperimeter, stone houseswereclustered into homesteads.But the closer the buildingsstood to the valley’s center,the greater they became innumber and size.Around theHeaven Tree’s trunk stood asmallabandonedcitybristlingwithdiminutivetowers.

But it was the Heaven

Tree itself that mostimpressedtheeye.

Fromtopleaftotaproot,it was easily as tall as mostStarhaven towers. From thegreat trunkgrewsix limbs atvarying heights, all ofwhichhostedleafycanopiesthesizeof rainclouds. Save for thetwo at its zenith, eachmassiveboughreachedouttorestitsendonaplateauofthevalley’s steep walls. Aroundtheselandingsstoodtheruins

ofsmallvillages.Narrow bridges

connectedtheplateauvillagesto the boughs. And alongeach massive limb ran acobblestone road thattunneledintothetrunk.

High above them, thecold autumn wind wasblowing.Itsettheupper-mostcanopies to swaying and sofilled the valley with adappled wash of shiftingshadeandsunlight.

“So, Nicodemus Weal,”Boann asked, “do you thinkthis will make a sufficienthome?”

“Home?” He laughed.“It’sparadise.”

They hiked onto thenearest bough, whereexploration revealed that thetunnels carved into the trunkled down to the valley floor.There they found theovergrown gardens teemingwith rabbits and the lake

filledwith trout. In the smallcity, they claimed a sturdybuildingastheirnewhome.

The next day brought athunderstormthatswelledthestreamandfilledthelakewithmuddy mountain runoff. Fordays afterward, the HeavenTree’s leaves continueddripping fat raindrops acrossthevalley.

Most morningsNicodemusspentwithBoann.She lectured on history,

theology, and politics.Afternoons were for spellingdrills in the wizardlylanguages with Shannon.After dark, he studied theChthoniclanguagesalone.

Two fortnights passedslowly, and then autumndescended upon them with about of freezing rain. Thecold painted scarlet onto theHeaven Tree’s topmostleaves.

Shannon had not once

needed to vomit logorrheabywords. It seemed thatNicodemus had subdued theold man’s cankers with theemerald.

Asthedaysgrewcolder,the leaves farther and fartherdown the Heaven Treeblushed red. But few everfell.

It was a time of talkingand reflection. After theevening meal, NicodemusandShannonoftensatbefore

the fire, recounting SimpleJohn’sbraveryorgrievingforDevin.

With only threeoccupants,thevalleycouldbea lonely place. Lectures andconversations had a way ofexhausting themselves intosilence.

So on some autumnafternoons, Nicodemuswandered. He scaled everyinch of theHeavenTree andthe valley walls, discovering

private grottoes and coves.Helearnedtohuntrabbitsandgoats, learned to fish thelake’s dark waters. But henever learned to cook.Thosemeals he prepared drewShannon’s increasinglygraphic but good-naturedridicule.

Sometimesaftereveningstudy, Nicodemus wanderedthe green valley floor. Hewould think of Devin orKyran and grow glum, or of

Deirdre and grow impatient.Time passed as before,slowly.

Then, one chill night,Nicodemus woke to hearBoann calling his name.Outsidetheirhouse,hefoundthe goddess standing in themiddleofthecobbledstreet.

The three moons werefull. Their glow filteredthrough the great boughs tofill the valley in a diffuselight.

“Walkwithmedown tothelake,”thegoddesssaidinher calm, sing-song voice.Nicodemus followed her outofthesmallChthoniccityandinto a field of waist-highgrass. “Tonight,” she said, asthey walked, “you begin aneducation that neitherShannon nor I could giveyou.”

Nicodemussaidnothing.Theyreachedaraised,grassybankthatoverlookedthelake.

In themoonlight, the usuallylimpidpoolwaspurestblack.Boannturnedtohimandsaid,“When we leave this place,you will be in the greatestdangerthat—”

“Goddess,” Nicodemushissedandsankintoacrouch.“Holdverystill.Upahead,onthat rock, there’s asubtextualized koboldspellwright.Hisprose style isshoddy.” He crouched lowerinthetallgrass.Thefigurehe

could make out shone withdim violet sentences. Thekobold was crouched atop aboulder that overlooked thewater and, judging by hissilhouette, was looking theotherdirection.“Idon’tthinkhe’s seen us,” Nicodemuswhispered.

Boann did not move.“They call it warplay,” shesaidcalmly.“Itteachesyoungkobolds how to survive theirconstant tribal wars. I’m

telling you this because theybelieve you are the humanprophesied to restorekoboldstotheglorytheyknewbeforethe Neosolar Empiredestroyedtheirkingdoms.”

“Keep your voicedown,”Nicodemuswhisperedandpulledthetattooedattackspellfromhiship.Holdingitlow in the grass to hide itsshine,heletthetextfoldintoaflickeringbroadsword.

“Each night, they will

teach you a new lesson.Tonight’slesson,Ibelieve,isthe tactical importance of adecoy.”

Nicodemus froze andthen looked up at thegoddess.“Adeco—”

The charging kobold hithim from behind andwrapped two cloth-coveredarms around his chest. Theforce of the tackle knockedthe indigo sword fromNicodemus’s hands and

launched both of them intothe air. There was a horriblemoment of falling as thekobold bellowed out victory.Then they struck lake waterwith a jarring splash.Twisting violently,Nicodemus slammed his fistintowhatheassumedwasthemonster’s face and reachedfor a blasting spell he hadtattooeddownhisback.

BOANN WATCHED NICODEMUS

andthekoboldsplashintothelake.BesideherShannonandan ancient kobold chieftaindeconstructed their subtexts.Shannon cleared his throat.“Was it truly necessary todeceive theboy?At leastwecouldhave toldhim thatyouhad spoken with the koboldtribe.”

Boann shook her head.“Now he will never forgetthislesson.”

Shannon frowned as his

parrot eyed the water underwhich Nicodemus haddisappeared. “You are surethiswarplaywon’tkillhim?”

Just thenablastofwhatlooked like indigo fireerupted from the lake’ssurface. Because she was agoddess,Boann could see allmagical languages.Presently,she watched the shockwaveof Nicodemus’s spell blowwaterandthekoboldattackerhigh into the air.The yelling

humanoid landed on themuddybankwith a thud.Aninstant later, a sputteringNicodemus emerged in theshallows.Hewas stripped tothe waist and peeling awartextfromhisside.

“Yes, Magister, quitesureitwon’tkillhim,”Boannsaid dryly. “I’m moreconcernedhewill kill oneofhisinstructors.”

The chieftain sniffed indisdain. “Any kobold who

could be killed by a humannew to skinwriting, savior orno,deservestodie.”

Boann smiled tightly.“And how good isNicodemus in yourlanguages?”

The gnarled koboldscratched his beardless chin.“Considering he has beenskinwritingforonlyaseason,heisthebestIhaveseen.”

Shannonspokeup.“Andthat troubles me. His

disability in the wizardlylanguages is growing worse.He cannot control evensimplespellsnow.”

“Magister! Boann!”Nicodemus yelled from thewater. “Therearekoboldsallaround!” Two moresubtextualized kobolds werestalking the shore. Themonster he had thrown offwith the blast spell hadregainedhisfeet.

Boann called down to

Nicodemus. “Tonight, yourtask is to avoid capture. Ifyou can make it to sunrisewithout being tied up orkilledyouaredoingwell.”

The boy had coveredhimself with plates of violetlight, textual armor, sheguessed.He seemed about toanswerherwhen thekoboldscharged.

The chieftain nodded attheblast andcounter-blastoftextual battle. “This is

excellent.Nowweshallteachhim evasion and stealth. Inlate autumn we shall putwarriorsunderhischargeandteach him to lead. He willcompete in this year’s NewMoonWar.Thenother tribeswill witness his power andknowthatwehavefoundoursavioratlast.”

Shannon was scowling.“Thatwouldslowhistraininginthewizardlylanguagesanddelay his attempt to learn

moreabouthisnewLanguagePrimefluency.”

Boann waved thiscomment away. “Those canwait. After so much loss, hewill benefit from a taste ofsuccess and a chance tobecomealeader.”ShelookedatShannon.“Besides,ifheisto survive outside of thisvalley, he will need time forthe lessons of warplay tobecomeinstinct.”

Shannon narrowed his

white eyes. “So let us teachhim to survive, butwhy turnhim into some kind ofwarlord?”

“Not a warlord,” Boanncorrected,“butacommander.His half-sister is presentlybeing tutored by Trillinonishgenerals and Ixonianadmirals.She is theonewhowillleadhumanity’sforcesinthe War of Disjunction. Butbeforeshedoesthat,shemusttrack down and kill the

Language Prime spellwrightwhoenabledTyphontowritethe dragon that attackedTrillinon. I doubt she knowsthatshe is training tokillherhalf-brother.”

Just then the koboldsyelped asNicodemus cast anindigo shockwave thatknocked them over. Wastingno time, the boy sprintedaway down the lake shore.Thekoboldsstruggledtotheirfeet and hallooed a hunting

callastheyraninpursuit.“Compared to her

agents, these kobolds willseem mild as kittens. Anddon’t forget thatTyphonwillhaveahalf-completeddragonat hiscommand,” Boann saidtoShannon.“Wemustdothisto keep him alive longenoughtofightintheWarofDisjunction.”

Shannonpulledasilverydreadlock from his face.“Perhaps this training will

keephisbodyalive,butwhatwillitdotohissoul?”

Boann looked back tothe lake and thought aboutthis. “Shannon, my newfriend,” she said after amoment,“Idon’tknow.”

A DARK MOOD came overShannonaslifeintheHeavenTree Valley took on a new,more urgent rhythm. Eachmorning, Nicodemus camestumbling in, often bleeding

and always chattering aboutwhat he had learned inwarplay. One night it washow toscaleacitywallwithChthonic spells. Anothernightitwashowtooutflankahostileforceorhowtoattackanenemycamporsomeotherblood-mindedaction.

The boy also talkedabout his discovery thatkobolds could briefly touchhim. Their blue skins wereremarkably resilient to the

cankers his touch produced.The monsters could simplyrip them off withoutconsequences other thanminorbleeding.Thoughsuchcontact came only duringfighting,theboywasrelievedto touch another livingcreaturewithoutkillingit.

After describing thenight’s warplay, Nicodemuswould sleep until lateafternoon and then study thewizardly languages with

Shannon.But the boy’s

cacography was indeedgetting worse. The spellingdrills had no effect. Worse,when asked to compose anoriginal spell, the boywouldwrite a tattooed draft on hisforearm before attempting awizardlyversion.

Some days Shannondespaired of teaching andtook Nicodemus for longwalks around the valley. He

told the boy about hischildhood, of his diplomaticservice during the SpirishCivil War, of his disastrousloveandthelossofhiswife.

Nicodemus listenedcarefully. At times, toShannon’s surprise, he foundhimselfbeingconsoledbyhisstudent.Itgavehimahollowfeeling.

Worse, Shannon’s oldbody began to suffer fromboutsofseverefatigue.Often

his stomach hurt after mealsand sometimes he haddifficultyintheprivy.Asthedays got colder, he spentmoreandmore timesleepingbeforethefire.

One day, he felt tooweak even to walk withNicodemus.Theresultwasanargument: Nicodemusinsistedthathewouldsoonbestrong enough to pursueTyphon.Shannonhadrefusedto listen and pointed out that

Nicodemus’s preciousChthoniclanguagefunctionedonly in the dark and neitherTyphon nor his half-sister’sagents would do him thefavor of attacking only atnight.

Shannon tried toemphasize the importance oflearning to harness hisnewLanguage Prime fluency andusing the Index to researchTyphon. But Nicodemus hadonly stormed out of the

house, yelling that he wouldnotwatch Shannon diewhenthere was a chance he couldrecovertheemerald.

That evening, bothstudent and teacherapologized. But nothing wasresolved.

Shannon did knowmoments of happiness whenhe saw flashes of the boy hehadknownbackinStarhaven.Toward late autumn, duringone chill afternoon, snow

sifted down through theHeavenTree’sboughs.

ShannonandNicodemusset out to wage a snowballfight. Azure acted asShannon’seyes,andBoann—not being tangible enough topick up a snowball—judgedthecontest.Butsofewflakesmade it to the valley floorthatNicodemusandShannonsoon resorted to thetraditional Jejunus cursingmatch. Shannon, having a

linguist’s trove of dirtywords,easilywon.

ButtheflashesofboyishNicodemus grew rarer as hiswarplay training grew moreintense. He was befriendingthe kobolds, coming to trustthem in theway that soldierscame to trust one another. ItwasabondthatShannonhadneverknown.

Nicodemus talkedincessantlyoftheNewMoonWar: a ceremonial gathering

of all the kobold tribes. Onthe night when the threemoonsweredark,theywouldemergefromtheundergroundto occupy a plateau deep inthe Pinnacle Mountains. Theplateau had held the koboldcapital city before theNeosolarEmpiredestroyedit.

Each tribewould sendapartyof tenwarriors into theruins to hunt for a goldenbough that a kobold priesthad hidden. The party that

returnedwith the boughwontheir tribe theright toprotectfor theyear thecrownof thelastkoboldqueen.

Whenthewintersolsticeapproached, and the HeavenTree’sscarletleavesbegantofall, Nicodemus left with hiskobold warriors for the NewMoonWar.Boannwentwiththem, but Shannon had tostaybehind.Itwouldbehardenough, claimed the koboldchieftain,tobringonehuman

to the gathering. Two wouldbeimpossible.

Left alone, Shannonfoundhisdayspassedslowly.His appetite and energy hadimproved,buthesleptpoorlyand spent most hoursnervouslywalkingthevalley.

After the longestfortnight of Shannon’s life,the kobold party returnedwith Nicodemus on theirshoulders. He wore a jaggedgash on his jaw, a large

bandagearoundhischest,andan ancient band of steel onhishead.

He had won the NewMoon War and had broughthome fifty more koboldfollowers.

As luck would have it,NicodemusreturnedthenightbeforeMidwinter’sDay.Thekobolds held a feast aroundthebonfire.Shannonsatnexttothe boy during dinner. Hewanted to hear everything

about the New Moon War,but thekoboldskeptup sucha racket with their singinganddancingandboastingthatno communication waspossible. Two of theblueskins started to fightbefore Nicodemus stoppedthem with a barkedcommand.

Later thatnight itbeganto snow. Again few flakesmade it to the valley floor,but itwas enough to end the

feast. The kobolds all bowedtoNicodemusandretreatedtotheircaverns.

Shannontookhisstudentback into their house,checked on his wounds,which were not worrisome,and fell into a deep sleep ofrelief.

He awoke to a bitterlycold and dark morning withaninchofsnowonthevalleyfloor. While they ate,Nicodemusrecountedthewar

among thekobold ruins.Onekobold tribe had disbelievedthat Nicodemus was theprophesiedsavior.Theirpartyhad ambushed his during theNew Moon War. At firstNicodemus bragged of howhiswarriors had rebuffed theattack, then he grew solemnasheremembered theenemykobolds he had killed.Shannon made him retelleverythingtwice.

After they ate,

Nicodemus went back tosleep. He awoke when itstopped snowing in theafternoon. “It’s Midwinter’sDay,” he said, looking out awindow to the clearing skybeyond the Heaven Tree.“They’ll be celebrating backinStarhaven.”

Shannon agreed thattheywouldbe.“Doesn’tseemright that there’s so littlesnowonthisholiday.”

Nicodemus was silent

for a moment. “Maybe I’llhikeuptothetopmostcanopyand see the snow. There’s asmall Chthonic fortressamong the boughs. Itswatchtower has a splendidview.”

Shannonhadneverbeenup that high, but he did notthink he could keep up withthe younger man. He toldNicodemustogoalone.

WHEN NICODEMUS REACHED

the watchtower at the top ofthe Heaven Tree, he took inthe vast panorama of snowymountains. Far to the northstood the slim blacksilhouette of the EversongSpire.

The Chthonicwatchtowerhadlongagolostits roof and now a foot ofsnow covered the place. Hecleared off what had oncebeena table and settled in towatch what was left of the

year’s shortest day melt intodark.

When the setting sunbathed the world in aburgundy light, Shannon’sloud breaths sounded fromthestairs.

Nicodemus ran to helptheoldmanwiththelastfewsteps.“Magister,”hescolded,“youshouldhavetoldmeyouwere coming up. I wouldhavewalkedwithyou.”

“Then you would have

wasted your time walkingwithanoldman,”thewizardhuffed. Nicodemus helpedhimsit.

“Fiery blood, but I’mtired,” Shannon said, puttingAzure in his lap andsurrounding her with hiscloak. The parrot stuck herheadoutofhernewclothnestso she could continue seeingfor them both. “What awonderfulview!”theoldmansaidwithawrinkledsmile.

Far ahead of them, theErasmine Spire shone withthe sunset’s glow. GraduallyShannon’sbreathingslowed.

Acolaborisspelleruptedfrom theSpireand flewoverthe eastern horizon and intothecomingnight.

“A boy is trapped in anacademy,” Nicodemus saidsoftly. “He learns he isincomplete. He sees thosearound him suffer. For amoment he glimpses himself

entirely before he escapes.Butnomatterwherehegoes,no matter what he becomes,he will cause or witnesssuffering. Still, he wantsnothing more than to try toendthesuffering.”

Shannonsaidnothingfora while. “You know that Ihave begun to ghostwrite?”heasked.

“An impressing matrixshinesaboutyourheadwhenyou sleep,” Nicodemus said

without looking over. “Itshines in Azure’s mind aswell.Ithinkithassomethingto do with dreaming. Havethecankersgrownworse?”

To see them with hisLanguage Prime fluency,Nicodemus would have hadto touch the old man. Hedarednot.

Shannon took a longbreath.“No.Infact,I’vebeenfeeling better. I suppose thisimprovement is temporary.

There’s no way of telling. Ibelieve we will recover theemerald in time to cure thething growing in my gut.But…I don’t want to becaught unawares. I’mghostwriting…as aprecaution.”

Nicodemus nodded. “Itis a race, then, between mytrainingandyourdisease.IfIlose,youdie.”

Shannon sighed. “Thereis no race, Nicodemus. To

help fight the Disjunction,you must learn to controlyour Language Primefluency. You must do thatalone; I cannot teach it toyou.Andnow that the Indexis misspelled, only you canuse it to learn aboutTyphon.Thosetaskswill takeyears ifnotdecades.Leavethisvalleybeforethenandyouwon’tbeable to oppose the demons.You won’t even be able tosurvive.”

“Magister, the koboldssay I am the most powerfulspellwright they have everknown. And I command asmallarmyoftheirwarriors.”

The old man shook hishead. “Kobolds rarely leavetheir underworld. A koboldarmy would be helpless onthe war field. And,Nicodemus, your spells onlyfunction in the dark. Youmust continue to train in thewizardly languages. If you

run after Deirdre and theemeraldbefore then, itwon’ttake Typhon or your half-sisterlongbeforetheyrealizeyou’re powerless indaylight.”

“Iwon’twatchyoudie!”Nicodemus replied hotly. “IknowwhatImustdonow.”

Shannon opened hismouthasiftoobjectbutthenshook his head. They bothfellsilent.

Gradually the sun sank

below the horizon and thestars made their slow debut.Awindpickedup andbeganto sing its whistling songamongthebarebranches.

“Nicodemus, youhaven’t escaped Starhaven,”Shannon said. “You thinkyou’re out here. You thinkyour strength lies in yourChthonictextsorinyourskillas a commander. You thinkyou’reincompletewithouttheemerald. You can’t see that

your true strength is alreadyinsideofyou.Andthatmeansyou’re still in that academy.”He nodded toward the spire.“You’re still running fromgolems.”

Nicodemus pursed hislipsbutsaidnothing.

“You must realize thatyouarecompletenow.”

The young man shookhis head. “You are dying.Deirdre is enslaved. Thepurposeofmylifeistoregain

the emerald and end mydisability. Nothing will berightuntilthen.”

Shannon began toprotestbutthenstopped.

They sat together, insilence.

AN ICY WIND curled aroundNicodemus andShannon andflewawaynorth.

Itblusteredaboutonthewhite mountains and thensplititselfamongStarhaven’s

many towers. It howled overthe bridges and sprayed drysnow into the gargoyles astheypusheddriftsfromeavesand cleared ice from thegutters.

The wind circled theDrum Tower and rattled itspaper window screens.Simple John—now LesserWizard John of Starhaven—removedascreenand lookedintothenight.Hetookalongtremulous breath and again

thought about his deadfriends: Devin, Nicodemus,MagisterShannon.

Behind John someoneknocked, likely a youngcacographer. As the newMaster of the Drum Tower,John replaced the screen andturnedawayfromhissadnesstoseetothelittleone.

Outside, the windswirled away from theDrumTower before dropping intothe Spirish stable yard to

ruffle Amadi’s thick cloak.She was overseeing hersentinelsastheypreparedforthe long journey back to theNorth.

Though her expressionwas calm, her heart teemedwith fear and anticipation.Colaboris spells had carriedreports of Fellwroth andTyphon to the otheracademies. Not everyonebelievedthenews,butnoonedeniedits effect. Thoughts of

prophesywere nowon everywizard’s mind, politicalspeculations on everywizard’s lips. And now shewas returning to Astrophell,where the game of factionswas being played withmurderousintensity.

Insidethestable,sheputpolitics and prophesy asidelong enough to inspect everypack, saddle, and horse herparty would take on theirjourney. Then she dismissed

the sentinels and walkedalone into the snowy stableyardtolookupatthestars.

OncebackinAstrophell,shewould owe loyalty to nofaction. Alone, she wouldhave to navigate theinfighting and gatherinformation useful toShannon and Nicodemusonce theyemerged.Doingsowould undoubtedly incur thedistrust of every majorfaction.Theslightestmistake

couldkillher.Amadi smiled. In her

soul she loved nothing somuch as great purpose. Nowshecertainlyhadthat.

The icy wind grewstronger. Pulling her cloakmore tightly around hershoulders, Amadi started offto findherbedanddreamofAstrophell under the hotNorthernsun.

Above her, the windrushed out of Starhaven and

rolled down the foothills. Itpassed over the ruinedChthonic village and madetheghostslookupwithwide,amber eyes. They could notfeel cold, but they shiverednonetheless. They knew thatthe world was about tochange.

Onward the windtumbled,downthefoothillstotheWesternmostRoad.Thento thenorth it flew, travelingto warmer lands. Slowly the

landscape shed snowy whiteforlushgreen.Nowthewindturned westward, blowinglong waves through the tallsavannah grass until itcrossed a narrow caravanroadandcrestedaridge.Herestood a tall sandstonewatchtower.

Beside this fortificationcrouched Deirdre, her red-and-black wings fluttering inthewind.Beforeher,theroadran straight for five miles

before meeting the tan wallsofaSpirishcity.Even in thedim starlight, she could seethe city’s many tiled roofsandthewideoctahedraldomeofitstemple.

Slowly, Deirdre stood.Tears streamed down herface,andbloodrandownherarms. At her feet lay fourdeadcityguards.Typhonhadcompelledhertokillthem;hewanted thecity to receivenowarningofhisapproach.

The wind blew harder,scooping under Deirdre’swings and lifting her a fewinches off the ground.Involuntarily, she tightenedherfistaroundtheEmeraldofArahest. She had beenthroughthedeepsavannaandfought the beasts that livedthere. She had seen theunspeakable things TyphonhaddonetothosebeastswithLanguagePrime.

The wind lessened and

she sank until her bootstouched ground. Thenshestartedwalking.Afreshsurgeof tears coursed down herface. She was alreadygrieving for what Typhonwould force her to do in thecity.

From her contact withthe demon’s mind, she hadlearned about the newestLanguagePrimespellhehadbegun to write. That is whysheprayedthatneitherBoann

nor Nicodemus nor Shannontried to rescue her. If any ofthem did, they would face aspell thatnoneof themcouldtrulycomprehendorevensee.

They would face a truedragon.

EpilogueThelinguistfeltasifhewerechokingonhisownwords.

They were short,commonplace wordsoriginatingfromhisoldheart,makingitbeatfaster.HetookAzure out from under hiscloak.

Shehadbeensleepinginthe warmth and sent him a

testysentence.Seeingthroughhereyes,

the wizard stood and madehis way back toward thesteps. “I’ll start down now,”he said to his pupil. “Comehelpmewhenyou’reready.”

Nicodemusnodded.By the stairs, Shannon

found Boann watching him.“Didyouconvincehim?”thegoddessasked.

Shannon smiled sadlyand cast a few flamefly

paragraphs for light. “He’stoo impressed by his newabilities.” He paused. “Heneeds time to see that hehasn’t escaped hislimitations.” Through Azure,hewatchedNicodemus closehis eyes and lean into thewind.

“But his progress isunexpectedly quick,” thegoddess said. “Perhaps hemightberight?Perhapsthereisachancehewillbereadyin

timetosaveyou?”Shannon exhaled.

“There’s no telling, but Icertainlyhope…”Thestrangechoking sensation filled hischestagain.“Nicodemus,”hecalled,tokeepthefeelingsatbay. “I need your help afterall.”

The young man sprangupandcamerunning,concernpaintedacrosshisdarkface.

“Besides,there’sapotofstew waiting at home,”

Shannonsaidthroughasmile.“And you didn’t cook it, sothis time it won’t taste likeboiledhorsesweat.”

Nicodemus laughed andthen took Shannon’s arm,careful to prevent his skinfromtouchingtheoldman’s.

Suddenlytheoldlinguisthad to draw a sharp breathandlookaway.

“What is it, Magister?Doesithurt?”

“No, no,” Shannon said

as firmly as he could.“There’sa…”Hishandcameup to his neck. “A sensationhere…I can’t…I don’t knowifthere’sawordfor…”

Again he tried to namethe feeling.But thewords inhis heart mashed themselvesinto a small, spiny ball andjammed themselves into histhroat.

He was choking on ajagged mass of the words“loss” and “gratitude,”

“desperation” and “relief,”“fear”and“awe.”

He was choking on thesharp knowledge that hewasslowlydying.

“Maybe it’s heartburnfromdrinkingmyhorsesweatstew,”saidNicodemus.

Shannon laughed anddecidedthatthebestwordforthe strange emotion in hischestwas“love.”

Helookedathisstudent.The boy had become aman,

and in him Shannon saw aflickering potential that justmightgrowstrongenough togivetheworldhope.

Nicodemus looked backat Shannon. His young facewas lit by severalincandescentparagraphs.Thebright words had illuminatedhissmilewithsoftwhitelightand, by contrast, filled hisdark eyes with a joyful,sparklingblack.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTSWriting a novel is likeescaping a cocoon you spunwhenyouweresomeone lesswise.

That being so, acomplete list ofmy gratitudewould include everyone whohelpedmecometotermswithmy disability. However,listing all the teachers,

students, and friends whosupported me would makeSpellwright heavy enough toqualify as exerciseequipment. So if you’veopened this book because ofthenameonitsspine—ratherthan its title—know that youareappreciatedandloved.

MyparticulargratitudeIdedicate to those whosacrificedforandbelieved inSpellwright: to JamesFrenkel, for limitlesswisdom

and gallons of industrial-strength editorial elbowgrease; to Matt Bialer, fortaking a chance on a youngwriterandhelpinghimgrow;toToddLockwoodandIreneGallo,forthestunningcover;toTomDohertyandeveryoneat Tor, for their support; toStanfordMedical School andthe Medical ScholarsResearch Program, formaking my dual careerpossible;toTadWilliams,my

glabrous, fantasy-writing,YMCA-basketball JediMaster, whose fingerprintsare all over this story; toDaniel Abraham, for lunarphysics explanations andinspiring the concept of“quaternary thoughts” with acasual and brilliant commentover lunch; to TerraChalberg, friend andpublication guardian angelduringa trying time; toNinaNuangchamnong and Jessica

Weare, foul-weather-friendsand manuscript polishersextraordinaire;toDeanLauraKing—wherevershemightbe—for pulling me out of therabid premed wolf pack andteaching me to write andchase dreams; to JoshuaSpanogle, for friendship andadvice on the med student-novelist life; to SwaroopSamantandErinCashier, forfiery criticism and goldenpraise; to Asya Agulnik,

Deanna Hoak, KevanMoffett, Julia Manzerova,MarkDannenberg,Nicole C.Hastings,TomDuBois,AmyYu, Ming Cheah, andChristine Chang, for freshperspectives and wisdom; toKate Sargent, for sloggingthoughclunkyearlydrafts;toThe Wordspinners(Madeleine Robins, KevinAndrew Murphy, JaquelineSchumann, JeffWeitzel, andElizabeth Gilligan), for

fellowship and teaching mehow to talk shop; to AndreaPanchok-Berry, for readingthe first, very misspelleddraft; to Vicky Greenbaum,forearlyen-couragementandinspiration; and, with all ofmy love, to GenevieveJohansen, Louise Buck, andRandyCharlton,forbelievingin me and for being such awonderfulfamily.

ABOUTTHEAUTHORBlakeCharltonfirstovercamesevere dyslexia in the sixthgrade when he begansneaking fantasy and sciencefiction books into special-edstudy hall. Inspired, he wenton to graduate summa cumlaude and Phi Beta Kappa

from Yale University. Aftercollege, he worked as anEnglish teacher, a medicalwriter for UCSF andStanford, a tutor for thelearning disabled, and ajunior varsity football coach.Blakeiscurrentlyathird-yearmedical student at StanfordMedical School, where heteaches creative writing formedical students and hasreceivedafellowshiptowritefiction.Spellwrightishisfirst

novel. His hobbies includecycling, swimming,backpacking, and collectingjokes about dyslexia andprematurebaldness.

Visitwww.AuthorTracker.com forexclusiveinformationonyourfavoriteHarperCollinsauthor.

CopyrightHarperCollinsPublishers77–85FulhamPalaceRoad,Hammersmith,LondonW68JB

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Published by HarperVoyager Animprint of HarperCollinsPublishers2010FIRSTEDITION

First published in The USA by TorBooks2010

Copyright©BlakeCharlton2010

Blake Charlton asserts the moral rightto be identified as the author of thiswork

MapbyRhysDavies

A catalogue record for this book isavailablefromtheBritishLibrary

Thisnovelisentirelyaworkoffiction.The names, characters and incidentsportrayed in it are the work of theauthor’s imagination.Any resemblancetoactualpersons,livingordead,events

orlocalitiesisentirelycoincidental.

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EPubEdition©MARCH 2010 ISBN:978-0-007-36887-7

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