Spellwright
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He said nothing.
“Before you tell Shannon,” the druid said coolly, “consider that he might, perhaps unknowingly, serve our enemy.”
Nicodemus started to protest, but she held up her hand. “And perhaps he does not. But men speak with loose tongues. Telling Shannon what I told you may start rumors. At present, your jailer doesn’t know that you are aware of him. Informing Shannon may alert him to your new knowledge. Informing Shannon may ignite a bloody struggle before Kyran and I are ready to defend you.”
Nicodemus frowned. “If Shannon were a demon-worshiper, he never would have left me alone with you.”
Deirdre cocked her head to one side. “You care for him.”
Nicodemus blinked.
Her infuriating half-smiled returned. “Game-piece Nicodemus, beware of Shannon. He is only a man. If he is your jailer, then he might be an imperfect one. Leaving you alone with me might have been simply a mistake.” She paused. “Don’t you wonder what caused those unusual cuts across his face?”
Nicodemus opened his mouth to defend the old man, but before the words came, muffled voices sounded at the door.
“They’re coming back.” Deirdre leaned forward and took his hand. “Nicodemus, if you remember anything, remember that the wizards are more than they seem. Shannon is more than he seems. We must get you to my goddess’s ark in Gray’s Crossing; you will be safe there. Until then, take this.”
From the folds of her robe, she withdrew a small sphere of polished wood and placed it in Nicodemus’s palm. A root wound around the object.
“It is called a Seed of Finding,” she said softly. “If you need me, break the root that encircles the Seed and I will come. I have another artifact that will allow me to find you so long as you are touching the Seed.”
She closed her hands around his and knelt. “By Bridget’s love,” she said, her green eyes fixed upon him, “I hereby pledge myself to the protection of Nicodemus Weal, our beloved Peregrine.”
CHAPTER Twelve
Nicodemus stared down at the wooden orb. It didn’t look like any seed he had ever known. A tingling warmth was spreading down his fingers. “Its power is quick,” he whispered.
Deirdre released his hand. “Keep it safe. Many wizards would pay their weight in gold for this spell.”
Nicodemus met her gaze. “If I gave this to a wizard so that he could study the druidic languages in it, and the other druids learned that you gave it to me—”
“—they would strangle me before our goddess’s altar. Just as the wizards jealously guard Numinous and Magnus, the druids guard the higher druidic languages.” She stood. “You see how I risk my life for you.”
Across the room the door latch chirped. Nicodemus stood and stuffed the druidic artifact into his belt-purse.
Deirdre stepped away from him as the door swung open to reveal an exhausted Shannon. Azure, perched on the wizard’s right hand, bobbed her head.
“My esteemed druid,” the grand wizard rumbled, “I have just heard a report that will harrow your soul. But might I have a moment with my apprentice first?”
“Of course,” Deirdre said with a bow.
“Nicodemus.” Shannon gestured to the door.
The younger man followed the grand wizard into the hallway.
When the door clicked shut behind him, Shannon held a gnarled forefinger to his lips and cast a miniature river of Numinous from his brow to Azure’s. The bird looked over the old man’s shoulder and down the dark hall. A responding sentence flew from bird to wizard.
It was then that Nicodemus noticed the sentinel, Magistra Amadi Okeke, standing partway down the hall. She half faced them while talking to a male sentinel whose long black hair was done up in an Ixonian bun.
Unexpectedly, Azure began to flap and screech. “Help me calm her down,” Shannon said. “She’s absorbed my anxiety about the news.”
Nicodemus stepped forward to stroke Azure’s dorsal feathers. Though she submitted to his reassuring fingers, the familiar continued to squawk. Shannon began cooing over the bird. “Ohhh, Azure, old friend, Azzzure…there now…Azzzure.”
Nicodemus frowned; usually Azure quieted when receiving such attention.
Suddenly he realized that Shannon wasn’t cooing at all; he was talking under his mother-bird impersonations. “Azure, ohhh…Amadi may be listening. No, don’t look at me…Azzzure, there now…that’s her private secretary she’s talking to; an Ixonian man named Kale.”
Azure wasn’t agitated; she was deliberately creating enough noise to drown out their conversation.
“If I tell you something shocking,” Shannon murmured, “can you keep your face blank?”
Nicodemus nodded slightly.
“Oh, there now, Azure. Did you know Magistra Nora Finn?”
“Yes, but I’ve spoken to her only a few times,” Nicodemus whispered.
“She was murdered last night.”
All the air seemed to be pulled out of Nicodemus’s lungs.
“There now, Azure, old friend. Don’t look surprised. Good. Oh Azzzzure. Keep your expression neutral; it gets worse. The sentinels suspect both you and me of killing Nora. Worse, I encountered the true murderer last night. I am almost certain the villain is hunting you. Oh, Azzzzure. Ohhhh…don’t breathe so fast; you’ll faint.”
The ground seemed to be tipping under Nicodemus’s boots. He had to work hard to slow his breath.
Shannon continued: “The murderer threatened to harm other cacographic boys. I’ve doubled the protective language around the Drum Tower and ordered that no cacographer is to leave Starhaven.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed. “Problem is the sentinels are investigating me for murder; they’ll distrust anything I say. If I ask them to protect the Drum Tower boys now, they will think it a ploy and refuse. However, I might be able to find some information that will force Magistra Okeke to…Nicodemus, are you all right?”
Nicodemus was breathing slower, but the world seemed to be slowly spinning. “Who’s the murderer?” he asked in a whisper.
Shannon pursed his lips. “A creature that is neither human nor construct. But we can’t discuss this while being watched. Two hours past midday, before our research, meet me in the compluvium. Do you know where that is?”
“Between the Sataal Landing and the Spindle Bridge.”
“Yes, Azure. Yes. That’s a good bird,” Shannon cooed, then lowered his voice again. “I’ll explain more in the compluvium. From now on, the sentinels will be watching you. Their presence will keep the murderer away, but if they decide you’re guilty of Nora’s murder, they’ll instantly conduct a witch trial.”
Nicodemus clenched his hands. To wizards, a “witch” was any spellwright who used prose for unlawful or malicious purposes. One of the duties entrusted to the sentinels was the formation of witch hunts and trials to bring such villains to justice. However, because the sentinels judged their own trials, those accused were often condemned to death whether or not they were guilty.
Shannon spoke again. “It will be hard, but you must appear innocent and calm. The sentinels will always be watching.”
“Magister, you remind me—when you went away, the druid had strange words for me.” He quickly related what Deirdre had told him.
Shannon chewed his lip for a moment. “I can’t say if Deirdre is correct about the curse or the keloid, but now I too suspect that you are tied to prophecy.”
“B-but the Provost himself thought I was branded.”
“We can’t discuss this now. Listen, there’s another reason you need to appear innocent. Magistra Okeke and other Astrophell delegates may belong to the counter-prophecy faction. All members of that faction believe an anti-Halcyon, a champion of chaos, will arise. If they ever decide that you could be this anti-Halcyon, you and I will be dead within an hour. We must convince them that you are a normal cacographer.”
“But how can—”
“Shhhh.” Shannon pretended to shush his familiar. “You mustn’t tell anyone—not another wizard, not John, and especially not Devin.”
Thinking of Devin’s tendency to gossip, Nicodemus agreed.
“Now, when Azure quiets, we must discuss the news from Trillinon; it’s what Amadi expects.”
On cue, the familiar ceased her screeching. Hooking her bill into a fold of Shannon’s robe, the bird hoisted herself onto the old man’s shoulder and began to preen the down on her back. “That’s a good bird,” Shannon announced. “Nicodemus, I’m afraid I have distressing news.”
The younger man glanced over Shannon’s shoulder at the sentinel; she had quit her conversation and now stood studying them.
“It seems a malevolent construct has beset Trillinon,” Shannon said. “Fire and death now reign in the city. Part of Astrophell has burned and many of our Northern wizards have died because of this monstrous spell.”
“What kind of spell?”
“One we do not comprehend.” Shannon frowned. “The reports, they speak of—” Azure plucked a feather from her back, a sign of extreme anxiety. “Azure!” the grand wizard scolded even as he cast several soothing sentences to the bird.
“What do the reports speak of, Magister?”
“Of a massive construct that tore into the Neosolar Palace and set the city aflame. They say the spell took the shape…” Shannon shook his head as if already disbelieving the words he was about to utter. “The shape of a red dragon.”
“ARE YOU ALL right?” Shannon asked.
Pressing a hand to his mouth, Nicodemus answered faintly. “Magister, last night I dreamed I was a dragon attacking a city. I didn’t know which city…certainly it was a Northern city…”
Shannon coughed. “Nicodemus, your face is very pale. Have you gotten enough sleep?”
“No, but—”
“I see you’re exhausted, and this news has clearly given you a fright.”
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