“To the Main Library,” Smallwood replied from behind his stack of scrolls. “Shannon, I thought you had told your apprentice about our research spell.”
Led by Nicodemus, the two grand wizards stepped out into the hallway. The sentinels followed close behind.
Shannon clicked his tongue in annoyance. “Timothy, it has been an unusual day. I haven’t had time.”
“There’s no need to be defensive, Agwu,” Smallwood said. “I was merely asking a question.”
The party reached the staircase and began negotiating the narrow steps.
“Well, Nicodemus and visitors from the North, let me explain,” Smallwood said with his usual professorial enthusiasm. “Years ago, Magister Shannon and I conceived of a research spell to visualize the texts surrounding the Index, but we didn’t receive permission to proceed until the other day, when—”
“Timothy,” Shannon interrupted, “Nicodemus doesn’t know what that artifact is, and you must remember to speak of it only in secure environments.”
“Quite right,” Smallwood said. “Forgive my forgetfulness. Nicodemus, would you cast a murmur spell so we may speak freely?”
Traditionally, apprentices cast any commonplace spells their wizards required. Shannon usually excused Nicodemus from this duty. Smallwood, in his typical fashion, had forgotten this fact.
With a deep breath, Nicodemus began forging the needed runes within his right forearm. Though written in a simple common language, the murmur spell called for complex sentence structures and an elaborate conclusion.
When finished, Nicodemus disliked his rendition, but there was nothing to do but cast it with another flick of his index finger.
Rather than expanding into a sound-deadening cloud, the glowing white misspell fell to the ground and shattered. The sentence fragments danced upon the floor stones like water beads on a hot skillet. Nicodemus’s cheeks flushed with shame. “My apologies, but I—”
“I believe an issue this sensitive requires a Magnus language text, perhaps a subrosa spell,” Shannon said. A grateful Nicodemus glanced back at the old man.
The party continued downward as Shannon wrote. The sentinels murmured among themselves. Then came the wet sound of Shannon spitting out the subrosa spell. Instantly a soundproof sphere of interlocking petals encased the group.
Smallwood cleared his throat. “So, Nicodemus, Magisters, as I was saying, we have many a codex in Starhaven but only one Index. To the naked eye, the Index seems a mundane book of usual size. But the spells coursing within its covers are extraordinary; they connect the Index to every scroll, book, and tome within Starhaven’s walls.”
Smallwood paused to shift the scrolls in his arms. “To search the Index for mundane text, all one need do is think of a subject and open the book. Simply pick up the codex intending to read about synaesthesia or magical advantage or whatever, and the artifact’s spells will reproduce all available information on the subject.”
Just then the party entered the Women’s Atrium, whose ceiling held mosaic depictions of famous female wizards. Nicodemus regarded the dog-like guardian spells that flanked the Main Library’s vaulted entrance.
The constructs’ Numinous bodies stood eight feet tall and possessed long canine fangs, muscular shoulders, and burning eyes. Thick, curly fur covered the creatures’ fearsome heads but not their sleek bodies. Under her gateward paw, each spell controlled a large Magnus ball.
As the party approached, the two constructs pulled back their lips, but Shannon calmly began casting them the necessary passwords.
Smallwood continued his lecture unfazed. “Conversely, to conduct a search for magical text with the Index, you simply lay a hand on any of theilluminated pages, and your mind is brought into contact with the book’s spells. Just thinking of what you are looking for will cause the book to list all known spells that fit your criteria. Once you select a spell—and here is the truly fantastic aspect—the book infuses knowledge of that text into your mind. So you see why the Index is so valuable: through it, a search that might have taken weeks is completed in moments.”
Appeased by the passwords, each guardian stretched her paws forward into a dog bow, signaling that the wizards could pass.
As they walked in, Nicodemus looked up into the splendor of the Main Library; he had seen it only a few times before. Beside him, a sentinel murmured amazement.
Floor upon floor of ornate wood paneling and leather-bound books stretched up far as the eye could see. On every level, arching windows allowed long shafts of sunlight to fall through the warm and dusty air. Almost impossibly far above them, a few wooden bridges spanned the library’s cavernous space.
On the ground floor, a two-story stone structure in the room’s center