Spellwright

Now smiling, the ghost formed a reply in his arm and held it out. “That’s right. My people have known for a long time that the condition you call ‘cacography’ is a mismatch between language and mind. Wizardly spelling is arbitrary. Because you are a cacographer, your mind rejects that arbitrariness. In fact, your mind is drawn to languages with logical spellings, such as Wrixlan. That is why your dreams wrote the constructs that now score your skin. And that is why the Index taught you our language. You are sure you did not come here for research?”

After reading this, Nicodemus looked up nervously. “No, Magister, I’m not a researcher. But I want to learn more about why I’m not a cacographer in…” He let his voice trail off as Tulki began to compose a reply.

The ghost forged several sentences within his forearm, stopped, erased two sentences, edited a few others, and then continued forging.

Nicodemus fidgeted impatiently until Tulki held out a completed response. It read, “Then I must apologize. When I found the delightful night terrors you had written, I was sure their author would one day discover a Wrixlan tome and so learn to see his own dark fantasies. Nearly three hundred years ago we were visited by another eugrapher-a passionate young male. He wanted to learn everything about eugraphy. He looked like you. But, then again, most human males look alike to me. However, returning to my point, maybe ten years ago, I discovered your constructs in the forest and tried to convince them to bring you here if they ever found you. But most were adamant about wanting to-pardon my frankness-eat you.”

“Eat me?” Nicodemus laughed in surprise.

Tulki nodded and held out another paragraph. “Thankfully they led you here instead. My apologies for what might now seem like an abduction. But if you’re not a researcher… that changes everything. Now I fear for the sixty-three other ghosts dwelling here. I had hoped you might help us. Three centuries have passed since that last eugrapher visited. He refreshed our texts in exchange for our teachings. Long before him, we received Chthonic spellwrights from the Heaven Tree. But it seems the mountain homestead has perished.”

Nicodemus’s eyes widened. “The Heaven Tree is real? The Chthonics escaped across the Spindle Bridge? Is that what it is used for?”

The ghost smiled. “So you are curious! Before I answer, I wonder if you will replenish our spectral codex-the living book that holds our ghostly texts. We simply require the touch of a Wrixlan spellwright. In return, I will answer all the questions you may have.”

Nicodemus thought for a moment. “A murderous creature called a golem-it is something like a construct-is hunting me. Can you hide me?”

Tulki’s smile faded. The ghost formed a sentence in his palm and stared at it for a moment before tossing it to Nicodemus. It read, “Are you a criminal or a legionary?”

“Neither,” Nicodemus replied.