you are the Halcyon; that possibility forbids you from forfeiting your life for mine. Besides, we dare not trust Fellwroth. If we submit, the monster is likely to kill me anyway.”
Nicodemus shook his head. “I won’t watch you die.”
“Selfishness,” the wizard huffed. “Surrender and you empower the demons. Your duty is to confound the Disjunction. And if that means watching me contend with the canker growing in my stomach you—”
An idea bloomed in Deirdre’s mind. “This magical canker, is it like the mundane cankers that clerics remove from elderly bodies?”
All faces turned toward her. Shannon spoke. “Clerics are spellwrights that study medicine. We wizards wouldn’t know.”
A giddy warmth spread across Deirdre’s face. “Boann found a canker once on my back. She said they happen often to avatars because we live so long. She said deities routinely cut such growths off their avatars.”
Shannon scowled. “But what ails me is not one growth. I can see the runes coming from the cursed muscles around my stomach. The canker is laced all around the organ. Boann could cut my guts into bloody rags and there’d still be more curse to cut out.”
Deirdre was shaking her head. “But she is a goddess! You can’t—”
Nicodemus interrupted. “Are you sure Boann would heal Magister?”
“If you accept her protection, she would do anything.”
Shannon objected. “She can’t help me, Nicodemus. Look at the runes appearing in my gut; you can see how diffuse the canker is. Gray’s Crossing is far too dangerous; we can’t risk the life of a possible Halcyon for that of an old man.”
“We can, Magister, and if it comes to that we will.” Nicodemus stood up. “First, I need to research something here in these ruins. I might yet learn something about Language Prime. But if I can’t find a way to remove your curse, we will go to Gray’s Crossing.”
The old man scowled again. “Don’t be foolish. You have no right to risk yourself for me.”
“Magister, I do,” Nicodemus retorted. “I’m a cacographer, not a child.” He turned toward the ruins.
“Los damn it,” Shannon grumbled, and struggled to his feet. “Nicodemus, where are you going?”
The boy didn’t look back. “Into the Bestiary.”
CHAPTER
Thirty-nine
Nicodemus frowned at Tulki’s spell. It read, “The last eugrapher was furious after engaging the Bestiary. His words became angry and illogical. He claimed the Bestiary’s knowledge was a curse to him.”
When Nicodemus looked up from this note, he found the ghost fidgeting with his long white ponytail.
They were standing outside a dome-shaped ruin overgrown by vines that bristled with leathery brown leaves. Elsewhere the expanse of half-collapsed walls stretched out into the dark.
Behind Nicodemus stood his confused companions. “What’s the ghost writing now?” Shannon asked.
Because they lacked fluency in the Chthonic languages, neither Shannon nor John nor Deirdre could see the Wrixlan text.
“The ghost is trying to change my mind,” Nicodemus replied, still staring at Tulki. “He’s afraid the book will upset me and I won’t return to replenish their spectral texts.”
“Tell him,” John announced haltingly, “you keep your word.”
Nicodemus nodded. “The ghost can hear you.”
Tulki stopped fidgeting to cast a reply: “But there might be danger. It was traumatic when the Index engaged you, true? The Bestiary is a more powerful tome.”
“How did the ghost respond?” Shannon asked.
Tulki studied the old wizard and gave Nicodemus two more sentences: “Tell the older one about the danger. He will help you see.”
Nicodemus sniffed in annoyance. “He’s exaggerating the danger the tome might pose, to discourage me.”
Tulki’s eyes widened. “!” he flicked at Nicodemus before adding, “I am not!”
Nicodemus raised a single, incredulous eyebrow.
Tulki threw his hands up in exasperation. “I forgot how infuriating young male humans can be. Very well, Nicodemus Weal, I have no evidence of great danger. I am only concerned for your well-being.”
The cold wind slipped down into the ruins and stirred Nicodemus’s longhair. “And concerned for your own well-being,” he said, pulling a black lock away from his eyes.
The ghost folded his arms. “The last eugrapher was also this adamant. Are you sure you are not his descendant?”
“Now what’s happening?” Deirdre asked.
“He’s telling me about the last cacographer who came through here about three hundred years ago.”
“Good,” Shannon said. “Learn as much about that as you can.”
Tulki studied Shannon and then cast a sentence: “Something is wrong with the elder’s belly?”
Nicodemus changed the subject. “Tell me more about the previous eugrapher.”
The ghost scratched his chin as he forged an answer. “The boy was curious and insistent. He looked like you and was thrilled to discover he did not