Magister was a rising star in Astrophell, both in research and politics. He was also an oddity because his father came from Dral, but his mother from Trillinon. That’s why his names sound so different—Agwu Shannon. Anyway, his faction, The Sons of Ejindu, wanted the wizards to take a more active role in keeping any rogue spellwrights from joining the Spirish Civil War. Shannon was their Long Council speaker. And…” Devin lowered her voice. “And…he got the provost’s grandniece pregnant!”
Nicodemus looked dubious. “But spellwrights can’t conceive. We’re all sterile.”
Devin smiled at him. “Nico, sometimes I forget how young you are. That’s what we tell the acolytes. Together we’re all barren. No two spellwrights have ever conceived. But every so often, a spellwright and an illiterate produce a child.”
“Shannon got an illiterate pregnant!”
“Shhhh!” She swatted his shoulder. “Not so loud. Now you see why we authors swear off families. We would outlive them and have to watch them die. That’s why it was a huge scandal when Shannon got the provost’s grandniece with child.”
Nicodemus could only shake his head.
She continued, “So Shannon tried to hide the baby, but his opponents discovered the boy and started the scandal. The provost of Astrophell was furious and made Shannon Master of the Drum Tower in Starhaven. To get rid of him, you see.”
“And then?”
“No one knows exactly. Some say Magister did something desperate with his research, hoping a breakthrough would earn him forgiveness. Some say he’s blind because his research spell burned out his mundane vision. But whatever happened Magister ended up here at Starhaven. He couldn’t visit Astrophell for twenty years or so. By then his wife had died and his son was married. Magister tried to patch things up, but apparentlyhis son hated him for abandoning the family and denounced Magister in public.”
Nicodemus blew out a long breath.
“So Magister came back here and became a champion of cacographers.” Her wide eyes darted up for a moment. “He chooses one cacographic boy from every generation and tries to help him earn a hood. Before you it was Tomas Rylan. Tom lived with John and me. Magister helped him become a lesser wizard in Starfall Janitorial.”
Nicodemus felt his face burn. Had Shannon chosen him as an apprentice only because he wanted a new pet cripple?
Devin stirred the dregs of her stew. “From the moment you came to the Drum Tower, you were Magister’s favorite. We weren’t surprised when he moved you into the top floor with John and me years before you had earned it.”
“Oh” was all Nicodemus could bring himself to say.
Devin looked at him. “So that’s what Smallwood meant.”
Nicodemus’s mind reeled. Shannon had taken him as an apprentice only out of pity? He felt sick. “Thank you, Dev,” he said quietly.
“Nico, you shouldn’t hold it against Magister; he only wants to help.”
He stood. “I should go.”
Devin caught his hand and squeezed. “Nico, everyone loves you in the Drum Tower. John and I…Don’t feel bad.”
“I have to meet the old man in the compluvium.” He squeezed her hand in return. “I don’t want to be late.”
“Okay.”
He picked up his bowl and cup. “See you tonight,” he said and walked away.
CHAPTER
Eighteen
Six of Starhaven’s twenty eastern towers held the Sataal Landing more than four hundred feet above ground. Nicodemus tried not to think about the height as he walked eastward along the thin stone concourse. Every fifty feet or so, he climbed a few broad steps to the next plaza.
The surrounding towers and nearby mountains blocked direct sunlight from the landing for all but a few hours during the day. The Chthonics had once cultivated a shade garden here. Antiquarians wrote of tall mountain laurels and soil beds bursting with angel wings, fetterbush, and barronwort.
Now the soil beds nurtured only weeds and ivy. Moss bristled between the wall stones. Feral cats skulked about the place looking for fresh water. Nicodemus couldn’t see anyone following him but guessed a subtextualized sentinel was near.
As he ventured farther east, the towers crowded closer. At each new level, the plaza was smaller, the stairway narrower.
Finally the landing terminated in a small, mossy cloister. Nicodemus found his way blocked by the thirty-foot wall that ran between the abandoned Itan and Karkin Towers. A row of metal rungs climbed halfway up the wall to a narrow walkway. Voices echoed from above.
Nicodemus scaled the ladder and found its rungs spaced too closely for human comfort. The Chthonics must have had small hands, he decided. Or maybe small claws? Or perhaps they had