a return to the Fool’s Ladder; he was never going to escapeStarhaven through the front gate. To get past these guards he’d have to be invisible.
An idea grew in his mind.
Perhaps he could find an invisibility subtext so simple that he could repair any misspellings the corrupted Index might introduce into it.
He opened the book. At first he could not make sense of what he saw. It seemed to be the chapter of an old treatise, but why it had appeared was a mystery.
From Towards a Uniform Spelling by Gaius Rufeus
Many today argue that tolorence for alternative spellings encurages creativity. I conseed that for many texts there are a few alternative spellings that are not only functional but also superior to the conventional spelling. But the number of these fortunate mistakes is dwarfed by the number of alternative spellings (or we should call them misspellings) that are nonfunctional and, in certin cases, dangerous. If wizards are to survive as useful members of the Neosolar Empire then a standard for…
Nicodemus frowned. He had been thinking of subtexts, not spelling. The Index was supposed to provide information on whatever subject he wanted to find. He reached to turn the page but then stopped.
Maybe the Index was correct: he hadn’t been thinking about subtexts themselves; he had been wondering if he could manage to rewrite a subtext.
He reread the page. So what if a few misspells worked? He’d known that for years. He couldn’t deliberately misspell a subtext; the text might flay his face off.
Irritated, he flipped the page to shut the book up. The sheet he turned to contained a treatise on self-doubt and its effect on spellwriting. “I’m supposed to be reading you,” he half-whispered, half-growled.
The book didn’t answer.
Nicodemus planted a palm on the page and sent his mind flying up into the book’s starry sky of spells.
From the darkness, three comet-like subtexts approached, each presenting an explanation of its function.
The first glowed green. It was a long and common language spell named madide. According to its description, the subtext blurred the image of those who cast it, making them difficult to see or strike. There was also a warning:
Note that madide’s inverted structure prevents most spellwriters from seeing this subtext; however, a spellwright posessing mastery of the comon langeuge may glean the rune sequenses and hense visualize the subtext.
That wouldn’t do; the guards had certainly mastered the common languages.
The second spell shone Numinous gold. Nicodemus recognized the latere subtext—a favorite of Magister Shannon, who sometimes demonstrated a love of practical jokes rare for a grand wizard. This spell formed a halo that continuously showered light-bending runes on its wearer. Latere-casters became invisible so long as they remained still. Slow movement made the air shimmer; rapid movement revealed glimpses of the caster’s legs or arms. More important, not even a grand wizard could glean its presence.
“This subtext is truly wonderful,” Master Shannon had once mockingly lectured. “For when one packs a friend’s shoes full of snow, one does want to be there when he puts them on.”
Fear and guilt assailed Nicodemus as he thought of Shannon imprisoned.
But with grim determination, he focused on recovering the emerald and forced himself to consider the latere subtext. It might work; he would have to move slowly and be sure not to stand where the guards might walk. However, it was very complex.
The third spell burned with the violet light of the Index’s language. It was written in a terse, self-reflexive style and possessed a brief description:
The words of sceaduganga cover the body, allowing our authors to walk unseen in shadow but not bright light. It deadins the sound of footsteps.
This was precisely what Nicodemus needed. With a flash, the sceaduganga spell crashed into his mind.
Having gotten what he sought, Nicodemus removed his hand from the Index and felt his mind drop back into his skull. As before, the transition from book to brain made his thoughts feel strangely confined.
Nicodemus closed the Index. On the gate, the two guards were discussing an ongoing bookworm infection. Apparently there were supposed to be other guards on the front gate, but the provost had pulled them away to help hunt the worms.
One of the stronghold’s cats now prowled the other side of the corridor. Nicodemus glared at the feline, willing it not to come his way and by purring reveal his presence. Another breeze set the torches to guttering.
After a long breath, Nicodemus turned his mind to the sceaduganga spell. Because the text had come from the corrupted