Spellwright (20 page)

Azure was riding on the wizard’s shoulder and using her eyes to see for him.

“Of course, Magis—”

A few inches ahead, the wall plummeted roughly seventy feet to the shaded impluvium: a deep rainwater reservoir that provided water to Starhaven’s inhabited quarters through a series of aqueducts. Beneath the surface lay massive valves and floodgates. Around them moved what Nicodemus first took to be bulbous gray fish, but then he realized they were the water gargoyles that operated the valves.

Beyond the impluvium stretched a mile-wide half-bowl of roofs, gables, and gutters that funneled rain down to the reservoir. This meta-structure, composed of the southeast quarter’s many different contiguous buildings, was known as the compluvium; and everywhere on it—squatting, stooping, or crawling—were the gutter gargoyles. The constructs were busy mucking leaves out of the aqueducts, scaring off birds, or mending leaky roofs.

“Amazing,” Nicodemus half-whispered.

“All of these gargoyles are controlled by a faction to which I once belonged,” Shannon explained, hurrying toward a spiral staircase on the wall’s opposite end. “If you or the Drum Tower is ever endangered, you must bring all the male cacographers here. That brute down by the Sataal Landing will obey your commands. You’re to bring the boys here to the compluvium and hide them; it’s a large place and the gargoyles know many secret nooks.”

Nicodemus swallowed. “Endangered by what? The murderer? The sentinels?”

“I’ll answer in a moment,” Shannon huffed. “First let’s be clear about what you are to do. Come.” They reached the spiral staircase and hurried down the narrow steps. Azure had to bob her head to keep a clear view of where they were going.

At the bottom of the stairs stood a gated tunnel leading into a building Nicodemus didn’t recognize.

Using a few Numinous passwords, Shannon opened the gate and pulled it wide. “If danger finds you even in the compluvium, lead the boys through here.” Azure whistled nervously as they stepped into the tunnel. “Watch your head.”

The tunnel proved to be both dark and long. But together master and apprentice trudged through ankle-deep water to another gate. Shannon sprang the lock and led Nicodemus onto a short walkway that faced the sheer rock face of the Pinnacle Mountains.

They had come onto Starhaven’s easternmost wall.

Shannon hurried along the walkway to the Spindle Bridge’s landing. Standing beside the bridge was another of the four-armed, hawk-headed gargoyles.

Shannon stopped before the gargoyle and turned to his apprentice. “You are to bring the boys to this construct. He guards a system of constructs and spells we call the Fool’s Ladder. It’s the only way out of Starhaven beside the front gate. If need be, you can escape into the forest and then lead the boys down to Gray’s Crossing.” He withdrew a pouch from his robes and tossed it to Nicodemus.

When the younger man caught the bag, it clinked. “Magister!” he exclaimed while peering inside. “There’s enough gold here to buy the whole town of Gray’s Crossing.”

“Hopefully there’s enough to buy escape or protection.”

“But shouldn’t I just find you if there’s danger?”

“There might not be time to find me.” He closed his blind eyes and rubbed them. “Besides, if you truly are in danger, it will be because I am dead.”

T
HE BLADE FLASHING
toward Deirdre’s throat was spotted with rust.

She leaped backward, gracefully finding new footing on the narrow steps. Her opponent’s crude white hood still covered his face. She wondered how the creature saw. She also wondered why he had risked an attack inside Starhaven, where he could not use magic.

The thing advanced with a backhand stroke. She met the blade with a parry of her right bar. The force of the creature’s blow nearly knocked thebar from her hand. The thing possessed strength that rivaled her own. She threw a quick overhand slash with her left bar.

The creature brought up his left arm in time to save his head.

The steel bar smashed into the thing’s forearm with enough force to crack a boulder. But there was no crunch of bone. The rod sank two inches into the arm and stuck.

The creature twisted away. In her shock, Deirdre lost her grip on the bar and it slid from her fingers. The monster lunged at her with another thrust.

Deirdre danced away but caught her heel and toppled backward onto the stairs. The creature raised the sword overhead; her bar was still stuck in his forearm.

Clay! she realized. The damned thing was made out of clay!

The greatsword flew downward. Deirdre rolled right and heard the weapon crash against the step beside her. When she looked up, the blade was again flashing toward her.

With both hands, she threw up her remaining bar. Steel met steel with a deafening clang. She kicked down, slamming her heel into the thing’s knee. Any blood-and-bone joint would have snapped, but she felt the creature’s flesh give.

The thing collapsed with a whistling shriek, but she could tell that the kick had not done lasting damage.

Somehow the creature had known she had no magic or blade. Being made of clay, the monster faced no danger from blunt weapons no matter how powerfully wielded. Only if she could find the author’s true body could she kill the creature.

Wasting no time renewing her attack, Deirdre struggled to her feet and ran up the stairs.

“D
EAD
?” N
ICODEMUS SAID
. “Magister, why would you be dead?”

“Follow me onto the Spindle Bridge,” Shannon said wearily. They walked side by side. The clicking of their boot heels on the bridge echoed loudly.

Far below them stretched the alpine forest; ahead, the sheer mountain face. As they went, Shannon related everything he knew about Nora Finn’s murder, his encounter with the inhuman murderer, Amadi’s suspicions, the counter-prophecy, and Eric’s and Adan’s deaths.

“Sweet heaven!” Nicodemus exclaimed, stopping. “Little Eric Everson with the long brown hair, he’s dead? Adan too?”

He hadn’t known either boy well, but their deaths still came as a shock.

“Magister! During my nap, I dreamt of a monster attacking a neophytein the glen.” He described the pale monster and then the cavern filled with the strange turtles.

Shannon made no immediate reply. A gust of cold wind set Nicodemus’s robes flapping and his hair fluttering. They were halfway across the bridge.

At last Shannon spoke: “This new nightmare—when you were both yourself and the figure on the table—also sounds to be a form of quaternary thought. What do you know about the levels of cognition?”

“Only that humans have tertiary cognition,” Nicodemus answered. “And that constructs can have secondary or primary cognition, which are like tertiary but with restrictions on what they can think or want or remember.”

“And quaternary?” Shannon asked.

Nicodemus hesitated. “Are thoughts that are unthinkable without certain texts cast about one’s mind.”

“Quite right, but do you know what that means?”

“Haven’t the faintest,” Nicodemus admitted with a laugh. “An unthinkable thought sounds like a silent noise or illuminating darkness.”

Shannon smiled. “But you’ve already thought unthinkable thoughts. In your nightmares, you thought as both yourself and as other creatures. That phenomenon, what we call shared consciousness, is the simplest form of quaternary cognition. At its most basic level, quaternary cognition involves thinking with at least two minds—one inside your head, another made of magical text.”

“So the murderer cast a spell on my sleeping mind that allowed me to think with that spell?”

“Yes, but perhaps it was not the murderer who cast it,” Shannon replied slowly. “Given what the villain told me, it’s likely he manipulated the dreams of Adan and Eric to lure them out of Starhaven’s walls. But your nightmares seem to warn rather than lure. The vision of the glen must have been a vision of poor Eric’s fate. The fiend wouldn’t want you to know how and where he’s attacking cacographers.”

“But then where are the dreams coming from?”

“We’ve no way of knowing,” Shannon said, scratching his beard. “But we might ask how the nightmares are related. You dreamed of the dragon attacking Trillinon and the murderer attacking Eric while both events were happening. Whoever or whatever is sending you these dreams wants you to know about these events. The dream-sender must want us to find a connection between them. Perhaps the murderer is connected to the dragon.”

“And what of the turtles underground?”

“That one is the strangest of all. Perhaps future dreams will reveal more.” Another gust of wind set the old man’s white dreadlocks swaying.

“But why send these dreams to me?” Nicodemus asked, his voice growing strained. “And Eric and Adan, what do their deaths…”

Shannon placed a hand on his shoulder. “It is horrifying, I know, but we’ve no time to panic or grieve. We have to think logically.”

The old man blew out a breath, his cheeks bulging. “We know the murderer seeks you so that you might replenish some artifact, an emerald. I’m unsure what he meant by ‘replenish,’ but I’m positive that he will attack the Drum Tower boys in an attempt to find you. We must protect you and the other cacographers. That’s why we’re here.”

“Magister, the druid spoke of a demon-worshiper being nearby. Perhaps we should consult her.”

“Not until we know more about her and the murderer.” The wizard grimaced. “And we know almost nothing for fact.”

Nicodemus blinked. “We know the murderer stole my ability to spell.”

“That is the druid’s explanation.”

A strange heat stirred in Nicodemus’s chest. “But you said the creature needs me to replenish some artifact. You said the monster claimed his master has been using a gem on me when I was sleeping. That must be why I’m a cacographer.”

Nicodemus’s hands began to tremble. That had to be it! He was being crippled by magic; therefore, he might yet be made whole by magic.

“Magister! If I could escape this creature, or maybe recover this gem, I would lose my cacography! Maybe I truly am the Halcyon.”

“Nicodemus, I do not like to hear you talk like this.”

“You think I’m the one of the counter-prophecy? The Storm Petrel?”

The wizard shook his head. “Given what has happened, you likely are connected to the prophecy in some way, but it is too early to say how you—”

“But in Magistra Finn’s library, the monster said the emerald gave him power in Language Prime. Magister, what is Language Prime?”

A golden Numinous arc leaped between Azure and Shannon. The parrot raised her head to examine Nicodemus.

“My boy, listen carefully. Language Prime is a very dangerous, very blasphemous idea. You must never mention it in public hearing.”

“But why?” Nicodemus asked. He had to make the old man see that he wasn’t supposed to be crippled.

“Only grand wizards may know of it.”

“But Magister, given the situation—”

The old man held up a hand. “You don’t need to convince me. But promise to keep what I am about to tell you in the strictest secrecy.”

Nicodemus swore on every demigod in the Celestial Canon.

With a solemn nod, the wizard began: “Perhaps you’ve learned that when time began, there was only lifeless dust. Into this barren world the Creator spoke the first words. These words were in Language Prime, the first magical language, the language from which all other languages come.”

Another gust of cold wind set Shannon’s silvery locks swaying again. “The first words created this living world and every creature upon it. Modern scholars believe that after that point Language Prime ceased to exist. But long ago, immediately after the Exodus, when the deities awoke on the new continent, they had no memory and little sense. Many claimed to know the Creator’s own language. Some claimed to speak directly to the Creator. In their efforts to master Language Prime and rule all of humanity, the awoken deities began the Blood Crusades. The resulting chaos and war nearly destroyed humanity. That is why the pursuit of Language Prime is deemed blasphemy.”

Shannon paused and took in a long breath. “That is why it is so easy for modern scholars to believe that Language Prime no longer exists. If they thought otherwise, it would spark religious wars that would destroy what peace the landfall kingdoms have known.”

Nicodemus nodded eagerly. “But you think differently, Magister? You believe Language Prime exists?”

“I don’t believe it exists; I know it does.”

“But how?”

Shannon pinched the bridge of his nose. “Because the last sight I ever saw—the image that burned all mundane vision from my eyes—was of two sentences written in Language Prime.”

D
EIRDRE MADE IT
halfway around the tower before something hit her from behind.

Pain exploded across her left shoulder and sent her sprawling onto the dusty floor. Next to her clattered the steel bar she had struck into the creature’s forearm. The thing must have thrown it.

She rolled over and regained her feet just in time to meet the creature’s overhead slash with her remaining bar. She countered with a quick thrust.

The creature, still wrapped in white, leaped back. His greatsword flicked out in a two-handed slash. Deirdre batted down the blade with the bar and stepped in to slam her elbow into the thing’s face.

Something that felt like a nose flattened under her blow.

The thing cried out and fell. A dust cloud exploded from under his back as he hit the floor.

Deirdre dove for the thing’s sword.

But the monster was still too quick; he squirmed back and away, holding the weapon above her short reach. With a hiss, the thing slashed with the sword across her side.

As the blade rasped against her rib bones, the world exploded into blackness. Deirdre leaped away onto her back. The creature tried to stand, but she kicked her boot toe into his neck. With a strangled cry, the thing toppled backward. Deirdre regained her feet and slammed the bar down on the creature’s shin.

She fled.

N
ICODEMUS BLINKED
. “You were blinded by Language Prime?”

The grand wizard rubbed his eyes wearily. “The story starts in Astrophell. I was a player in the game of factions then and a little arrogant. I fell in love with the magically illiterate grandniece of Astrophell’s provost. When I got her with child, we married in secret.”