Spellwright (39 page)

“Celestial Canon,” he swore softly. “Does this mean I’m not a cacographer in your purple language?”

Now smiling, the ghost formed a reply in his arm and held it out. “
That’s right. My people have known for a long time that the condition you call ‘cacography’ is a mismatch between language and mind. Wizardly spelling is arbitrary. Because you are a cacographer, your mind rejects that arbitrariness. In fact, your mind is drawn to languages with logical spellings, such as Wrixlan. That is why your dreams wrote the constructs that now score your skin. And that is why the Index taught you our language. You are sure you did not come here for research?
”

After reading this, Nicodemus looked up nervously. “No, Magister, I’m not a researcher. But I want to learn more about why I’m not a cacographer in…” He let his voice trail off as Tulki began to compose a reply.

The ghost forged several sentences within his forearm, stopped, erased two sentences, edited a few others, and then continued forging.

Nicodemus fidgeted impatiently until Tulki held out a completed response. It read, “
Then I must apologize. When I found the delightful night terrors you had written, I was sure their author would one day discover a Wrixlan tome and so learn to see his own dark fantasies. Nearly three hundred years ago we were visited by another eugrapher—a passionate young male. He wanted to learn everything about eugraphy. He looked like you. But, then again, most human males look alike to me. However, returning to my point, maybe ten years ago, I discovered your constructs in the forest and tried to convince them to bring you here if they ever found you. But most were adamant about wanting to—pardon my frankness—eat you.
”

“Eat me?” Nicodemus laughed in surprise.

Tulki nodded and held out another paragraph. “
Thankfully they led you here instead. My apologies for what might now seem like an abduction. But if you’re not a researcher…that changes everything. Now I fear for the sixty-three other ghosts dwelling here. I had hoped you might help us. Three centuries have passed since that last eugrapher visited. He refreshed our texts in exchange for our teachings. Long before him, we received Chthonic spellwrights from the Heaven Tree. But it seems the mountain homestead has perished.
”

Nicodemus’s eyes widened. “The Heaven Tree is real? The Chthonics escaped across the Spindle Bridge? Is that what it is used for?”

The ghost smiled. “
So you are curious! Before I answer, I wonder if you will replenish our spectral codex—the living book that holds our ghostly texts. We simply require the touch of a Wrixlan spellwright. In return, I will answer all the questions you may have.
”

Nicodemus thought for a moment. “A murderous creature called a golem—it is something like a construct—is hunting me. Can you hide me?”

Tulki’s smile faded. The ghost formed a sentence in his palm and stared at it for a moment before tossing it to Nicodemus. It read, “
Are you a criminal or a legionary?
”

“Neither,” Nicodemus replied.

This time Tulki’s response came quickly. “
Then I will not ask why it is chasing you. You may share that when you are ready. However, I must know how this construct is tracking you?
”

Nicodemus touched the back of his neck. “There is a curse laid upon me that broadly casts a signal text.”

The ghost smiled again. “
Then we can help. In this place lies our most powerful living tome. Translating its name was difficult. The term the legionaries chose was ‘Bestiary.’ It is a great book that hides these ruins with a visual subtext, which you surely already saw. The Bestiary also fills this place with an ancient metaspell that deconstructs any magical literature attempting to leave. So your curse’s signaling spell will not escape this resting place.
”

Nicodemus took a deep breath in relief.

Tulki nodded vigorously as he presented another paragraph. “
What’s more, any non-Wrixlan construct will rapidly deconstruct if it enters here. Likely this golem would suffer the same if it came here. Your night terrors understood how dangerous this place is for constructs; that is why they inscribed themselves on your skin as soon as you arrived. Parts of them are Wrixlan, but mostly they consist of Pithan—our language that affects the mundane world, like your Magnus. If you replenish our spectral codex, we shall happily allow you to stay in this sanctuary.
”

Nicodemus nodded. “Then we have an agreement.”

The ghost glowed brighter as he smiled. “
Most wonderful. What shall I call you?
”

“Nicodemus Weal.”

“
Nicodemus Weal, you might find it agreeable to dwell with us for a long time. We have much to teach. Would you like to learn about our people?
”

When Nicodemus said he would, the ghost straightened with professorial pride. “
Then follow me as I explain,
” Tulki wrote and then began to lope further into the ruins on all three limbs, pausing only briefly to cast another paragraph: “
I’ll start with the Heaven Tree; it does exist deep in the mountains.There was a bridge that led to it. But our metaspells and the blueskin constructs have since blocked the way. No human may reach the Heaven Tree Valley now.
”

Nicodemus had difficulty reading while walking among the stones. The Chthonic, however, had no trouble writing and navigating the rubble. The ghost moved easily with his thin right arm acting as a third leg.

“Did you lose your left arm in the war against the Neosolar Empire?” Nicodemus asked tentatively.

Tulki stood and looked back with an amused expression. “No, no,” the ghost wrote. “
All our people have only one ‘arm,’ as you call it. Indeed, that was a chief reason why our peoples went to war.
”

“But how could such a—” His voice died.

The ghost had unbuttoned his tunic where the garment covered his left shoulder. A long, ashen limb unfolded. A membrane of skin stretched from shoulder to wrist. The four fingers hung two or three feet long, and between them grew the same membranous skin.

Tulki formed a sentence in this sail of skin. Then the ghost peeled the text off and cast the spell to Nicodemus. It read, “
Translating our word for this ‘arm’ is difficult. Your closest word might be ‘palette.
’”

Tulki formed another paragraph within the membranous skin and then cast it to Nicodemus. “
Appreciate that more skin gives a Wrixlan author more writing space. You black-robes carry books to hold more text. But our bodies are our texts. Long ago, our ancestors dwelled under the mountains with the greenskins and blueskins. Then the first Chthonic tribe created our dialects. It was then that the goddess Chimera helped shape our bodies to escape the brutal underworld of the blueskins.
”

“Blueskins?”

Tulki took a moment to compose a reply. “
Your word for them is ‘kobolds,’, and for greenskins, ‘goblins.’ They too write on their bodies. But their hides are tough, their dialects savage. They brand themselves. Our dialects require elegance. Our goddess used the First Language to adapt our bodies to our words. Our skin became soft and amenable to Pithan and Wrixlan; we wrote more and more on our left arms, and so we needed more and more skin.
”

The ghost nodded to his palette before casting the next paragraph. “
Through Chimera’s First Language, our left arms grew into palettes. You see why our ancestors thought each other monstrous. A Chthonic born with two arms would be like a human born with three.
”

Nicodemus could only nod.

Tulki looked to the sky and then tossed out two quick sentences: “
Dawn is not far. We must go underground.
” With that, he hurried further into the rubble.

Following as quickly as he could, Nicodemus asked, “But what ofWrixlan being eugraphic? Can it cure my cacography in the wizardly languages?”

Without slowing, Tulki threw a reply over one shoulder. “
No, but I don’t see what there is to ‘cure,’ as you say.
”

By the time Nicodemus had finished reading this, Tulki had ducked inside an ancient building that still had much of its roof. Nicodemus followed and discovered that inside the hovel a set of narrow stairs led down into darkness.

The ghost’s body began to shed a soft, indigo light. “
Mind your big feet,
” he warned with a quick spell and then descended the stairs. “
We hope you will stay with us and replenish our codex many times over the years. To remain hidden from the construct, you must stay underground during the day.
”

“Why?” Nicodemus asked while negotiating the tiny steps.

“
Because bright light, especially sunlight, deconstructs Wrixlan. Your ancestors used this to slaughter us. By night, we possessed spells as powerful as any human text. But by day, we were defenseless. How we used to dread the dawn when the blood-hungry legionaries would come.
”

They reached the bottom of the stairs and now stood in a rectangular cellar with a low ceiling and blank stone walls. “You must loathe me,” Nicodemus whispered.

Tulki smiled. “On
the contrary, Nicodemus Weal, if you replenish our text, you will become one of the few humans I have ever truly liked.
”

CHAPTER
Thirty-five

The ghost pointed to a small stone vault and then tossed Nicodemus a sentence. “
Our spectral codex is stored in there.
”

Nicodemus lifted the vault’s lid and found a book, nearly the Index’s twin, lying at the bottom.

A glowing note from Tulki appeared next to Nicodemus’s hand. It read, “
You need only place a hand on an open page. It might have a disorienting effect. Several hours may pass without your noticing. You might see flashes from our past—the codex also contains a history of our people.
”

Nicodemus looked up at the ghost. “Will it make me sick?” When the ghost raised his eyebrows, he explained how touching the Index for the first time made him vomit.

The ghost shook his head. “That
was because the Index forced Wrixlan into your mind. That will not be the case here. The Index is a tome; this book is a simple codex. However, when the sky lightens I must return to its pages. We Wrixlan ghosts never express ourselves outside of a manuscript during the day. The risk of exposure is too great.
”

Nicodemus thought for a moment. “Before I begin, perhaps you could explain one more thing: you mentioned something called the First Language.”

Tulki wrote several sentences but then scratched his chin and began editing.

Nicodemus tried not to fidget as he waited.

When the response was finished, Tulki held it out while looking Nicodemus in the eye. It read, “The
other eugrapher from long ago also asked about this. But I can’t satisfy much of your curiosity. I know the First Language changed our ancestors’ bodies. I know First Language prose keeps our living books alive. But that is all I know. Only by engaging a Bestiary could one learn the First Language. And only high priests were allowed to read a Bestiary in life. We ghosts won’t violate the old ways; none of us will engage our Bestiary.
”

Nicodemus thought about this and then asked, “And why call it a Bestiary? Does the book describe animals?”

The ghost shook his head and wrote, “
I don’t think so. I think it was aproblem of translation. The Bestiary contains knowledge of the First Language. In fact, the center of any Chthonic colony is a Bestiary. It has to be that way, because a Bestiary helped us change to survive in a new realm.
”

“And so these ruins were to be a new colony? That’s how you came here?”

Tulki wrote for a moment and then handed Nicodemus two paragraphs. “
Not quite. This place was only a town, destroyed during the first siege. We ghosts were stranded here when Starhaven finally fell. When the legionaries breached the walls, several Chthonic warriors took our Bestiary and dashed southward. They hoped to reach the Iron Wood or the Grysome Mountains and establish a new colony. They brought with them two spectral codices. One was filled with artistic and priestly ghosts, the other with political and scholarly ghosts. I was stored in the latter.

“
But the humans caught the escape party at dawn. The ensuing battle destroyed the codex holding the priestly ghosts. The living Chthonics who survived the human attack brought the Bestiary and the remaining spectral codex here to these ruins. After helping the Bestiary to write the protecting subtexts and metaspells, the living ran for the mountains and the Heaven Tree…they never made it.
”

Nicodemus paused for a respectful moment before speaking. “And is your First Language related to Language Prime?”

The text gave him a quizzical look.

Nicodemus tried to explain. “Language Prime is the Creator’s language, the language of the first words, the source of all magic.”

The ghost frowned and held out a few sentences. “
As I said, I am no priest. But I do remember the Neosolar Empire labeled the First Language as blasphemous. They said we were trying to alter the Creator’s text or some nonsense. They used the idea that we were distorting holy language to justify their bloodlust.
”

Nicodemus read this and then said, “I must learn whatever I can about Language Prime. Your First Language might be similar to it. Is the Bestiary nearby?”

The ghost licked his lips before nodding.

“Am I capable of reading it?”

Tulki wrote a response and hesitantly held it out. “Yes…one
needs only fluency in Wrixlan to engage the tome…but I fear I cannot let you do so
.”

“Your religion forbids it? Is it dangerous?”

The Chthonic shook his head. “
There is a little danger, but not much. And the old ways do not prohibit humans from reading it. But, you see, we allowed the last eugrapher to read the Bestiary. After engaging the text, he grew fractious. He soon left and never returned.
”