misspell in our languages. A whole autumn and winter he stayed, sleeping through day and studying at night. He became pale and beautifully tattooed. He wrote wonderful constructs, like yours.”
Nicodemus nodded. “But then he learned about the Bestiary?”
The ghost’s shoulders rose and fell in a noiseless sigh. “And then there was nothing that would please him but to engage it. The reading didn’t take more than a moment. He touched the pages and then fell to the ground. We asked what had happened and he began to laugh. ‘Gibberish!’ he said. ‘She showed me that I’m the error. She showed me what cacography truly is.’”
“What did he mean by that?” Nicodemus said, his heart beginning to kick.
Tulki shrugged. “We asked him, but the boy only shouted at us. He said that the book had cursed him with the knowledge of what cacography truly was and what the Chthonic people truly were. ‘Gibberish!’ he kept yelling. ‘It’s all gibberish!’ We tried to reason with him but he wouldn’t speak. He left the next evening and never returned.”
Nicodemus swallowed when he finished reading. “What’s this about what cacography truly is? What did he learn?”
“What’s the ghost writing now?” Shannon asked.
“Magister,” Nicodemus snapped. “I’m trying to read.”
The old linguist mumbled an apology.
“Go on,” Nicodemus insisted. “What did the other boy learn about cacography?”
Again the ghost shrugged. “He didn’t say.”
Nicodemus pressed his cold right hand to his mouth and took a steadying breath. “Do you remember his name?”
The ghost seemed to ponder this. “I believe…” he cast before pausing. “I believe his name was James Berr.”
“Los in hell,” Nicodemus swore under his breath. James Berr—the very incarnation of malignant cacography!
Tulki’s amber eyes studied Nicodemus. “He did look much like you—black hair, olive skin, green eyes. Was James Berr indeed one of your ancestors?”
“No!”
The ghost jumped. “Forgive me. Have I offended?”
Nicodemus ignored the ghost’s questions. “Did he tell you why he left Starhaven?”
The ghost shook his head. “I’ve told you everything.”
“Nicodemus, why are you upset?” Deirdre asked.
Ignoring her, Nicodemus kept his eyes on Tulki. “But what did the Bestiary teach him about cacography? What did he mean, ‘It’s all gibberish’?”
Again, the ghost shook its head. “This is upsetting you already. Nothing good will come of engaging the Bestiary.”
Nicodemus shut his eyes and took a long, quavering breath.
“Nicodemus, tell us what’s the matter.” Shannon said.
Nicodemus answered without opening his eyes. “The ghost says reading the Bestiary might be dangerous. How dangerous, he doesn’t know. I was hiding this from you. I tell you now only because Los himself couldn’t stop me from reading the book.”
All three of his friends exploded into questions.
Nicodemus went on. “The last human to read the Bestiary was a cacographer like me. He learned the Chthonic languages like me. He even looked like me. And by reading this tome, he discovered something about the nature of cacography.”
Nicodemus turned to face his friends. The dappled moonlight revealed three worried figures.
“I’m terrified,” he said bluntly. “I have much in common with this ancient cacographer. I must know who he truly was and what he discovered in the Bestiary.”
“But why?” Deirdre asked.
“Because I might be just like him.”
Shannon spoke. “And who was this other boy?”
“James Berr.”
Both Shannon and John flinched. A confused Deirdre looked from one to the other. No one spoke for a moment. Then Shannon said, “Nicodemus, if there is even a slight danger, you mustn’t—”
“No, Magister,” John interrupted. “He must.”
Tulki led Nicodemus to the vine-covered dome. The thick brown leaves barely swayed in the cold wind. To Nicodemus’s shock, he saw that they were not leaves at all, but thick medallions of leather.
A curtain of the strange foliage parted to reveal a miniature doorway. “I appeal to you again,” Tulki wrote, stepping through. “Reconsider.”
Nicodemus ducked through the doorway into a small, dark space. “I cannot,” he said.
A rectangle of dull amber light glowed in the darkness. As Nicodemus approached, the light grew to reveal that he was standing not in a room, but in a bower of leathery vines. The thick stems and leaves had wound themselves into a tentlike roof around the crumbling building.
The floor was uneven and rough. On closer inspection, Nicodemus realized that it was made of thousands of roots. All of them ran to the room’s center and then grew into something resembling a tree stump—“resembling” because after rising two feet into the air, it grew into a massive codex. Its brown leather cover was textured like ash bark. A braid of branches grew from each face to