incomplete theft of your ability to spell. For some reason he needs to renew the curse every four years.”
Nicodemus’s eyes widened. “The golem told Shannon that his master was replenishing an emerald.”
A sudden realization made him pause. “The demon must have used Magistra Finn and John to reach me when I was sleeping. The golem knew about Magistra Finn and tried to recruit her. But the golem must not have known about John.”
Abruptly emotion returned to Nicodemus in the form of stomach-twisting fear. “John said Typhon was accompanied by a ‘red-eyes-man’ named Fellwroth. That must be the golem’s author.”
“And that is why we must hurry,” Deirdre explained, pulling Nicodemus to his feet. “The demon must have tied some summoning magic to the spider creature. You said John was expecting this Fellwroth to come in response to the parchments. We must not be here when the creature arrives.”
“You’re right; we must flee.” Nicodemus pressed his hands to his mouth. “We have to—” He stopped.
Something was wrong.
“Deirdre, why didn’t you unbutton your sleeves for spellwriting?” he asked.
“The magic I use is different! No time to explain. Now, tell me, what do you need to bring?”
“The Index! I left it on the—” Nicodemus’s voice died as he turned toward the door and saw Devin’s body. “Devin,” he whispered.
Deirdre took his arm and turned him away. “Not now, Nicodemus. Youcan’t mourn now. Listen to me. We must get you down to Gray’s Crossing; there you’ll have my goddess’s protection. Then we can mourn, but now we must fly.”
“No,” he said, “we can’t, not without the other Drum Tower boys. They’re going with us. The golem is killing the male cacographers one by one. He doesn’t know that I’m the one he wants.”
“I didn’t know,” a soft, croaking voice said.
Deirdre and Nicodemus turned. Standing in the door frame was a hunched figure draped in white.
The stranger spoke again. “But I do now.”
DEIRDRE PULLED NICODEMUS behind her and drew her massive greatsword with one hand.
“There is no need for dramatics,” the creature sneered. “I can’t stay long.”
In the moonlight, Nicodemus could see little of the creature other than the white cloth covering his body. When he spoke, the air beneath his hood had become blurry.
Suddenly remembering the spell Shannon had written against the fiend, Nicodemus looked for his satchel. He wasn’t confident enough to extemporize Shannon’s new spell. But if he had the Index, he could refresh his knowledge of it. Maybe then he could attempt the spell.
But the book lay sprawled out on the other side of the common room, not seven feet from the golem.
“The promised arrival of Fellwroth,” Deirdre growled, raising her sword. “Villain, are you a lesser demon, or simply Typhon’s human lapdog?”
The creature laughed softly. “You know what I am, and you know I slew Typhoneus in your land more than a year ago. So let’s forgo the blandishments and move on to the exchange. I cannot take the boy now. I was running to that miserable little village. This pathetic golem was all I had available back here. I should have expected Typhon to plant some kind of guard on the boy.” The white robes shifted; the figure seemed to look around. “Who was it? The giant oaf or this broken-faced hussy?”
“I’ll rip your heart out!” Nicodemus snarled and stepped forward.
But Deirdre caught his hand. “Nicodemus, no,” she hissed. “If you have the chance, run.”
The golem wheezed a laugh. “Such courage, Nicodemus. It is good to finally learn your name.” The air below his pale hood again became blurry as if filled with a fine powder. He turned to Deirdre. “Does this mean you are refusing the exchange? It’s hard to imagine that you would be so stupid.”
“You make no sense, Fellwroth. The last time we met, I cleaved your head off. I’d be happy to do the same again.”
Nicodemus noticed the moonlight shifting along the back wall. Kyran! The subtextualized druid was sneaking up on the golem.
The creature laughed. “You have more audacity than brains, girl. Think about what you are doing. I have your rock, and with this dead hussy lying here”—he nodded to Devin’s body—“you can’t stay in Starhaven. The sentinels won’t hesitate to censor and bind you. They’ll leave you in a prison under some tower; reaching you and the boy then would be easier than picking apples.”
The golem drew a wheezing breath. “And if you venture outside of Starhaven’s walls, where I can spellwrite, you’ll face my full strength. You are trapped, so don’t be