Spellwright Part 40

Chimera made a sound like a yawn. "Berr would be your distant cousin. He paid the price and it broke him. Perhaps you are stronger. Will you learn the first language?"

Nicodemus took a long breath of liquid black. "I will."

THE DARKNESS LIT up with four aquamarine characters. up with four aquamarine characters.

"These are the four runes of Language Prime," Chimera said behind him.

Nicodemus glanced over his shoulder to try to glimpse Chimera but saw only blackness. So he turned back to the complex cyan characters. All were three-dimensional. Two had hexagonal structures; the other two, pentagonal structures. As the runes rotated slowly, Nicodemus realized that he had instantly memorized their every detail. He could already see how they would fit together into long, spiraling sentences.

"I've never learned anything so quickly," he remarked in amazement.

Chimera spoke. "You are not learning; you are awakening an ancestral knowledge. And now that I have shown you the runes, your education is nearly complete."

Nicodemus laughed, but when the hidden creature did not reply, he realized that she was serious. "But I have no Language Prime vocabulary, no grammar." He laughed again. "I don't even know what kind of spells are written in Language Prime."

Chimera's reply came in a whisper. "Look at your hands."

Nicodemus did as he was told and then jumped. An aquamarine glow now suffused his fingers and palms.

"Fiery blood! I'm casting in Language Prime!" He brought his hands closer to be sure. "But the runes are impossibly small," he said in amazement. "There must be...I don't know a number large enough to describe how many runes there must be in my pinky alone."

He pulled back his sleeves and then peered down the collar of his robes. His entire body was saturated with Language Prime. "It doesn't makesense," he said. "The other magical languages we forge in our muscles, but these runes are forming in every bit of my body."

The darkness around Nicodemus undulated as Chimera's voice drew closer. "That is because Language Prime runes are not controlled by your body. They are your body."

"That makes no sense. And what is this place, anyway? Is this my real, physical body? Are you showing me illusion?"

"Only your mind is within my book. But the magical body I have given you here will behave just as your physical body does. When you leave the book, you will see that I am not deceiving you." Suddenly her voice was whispering an inch from his left ear. "Now look into nature."

Nicodemus turned to see a square window cut into the darkness. On the other side was an image of the nearby nighttime forest. Much was familiar: pine trees, sword ferns, a young buck picking his way among the vegetation and rocks.

But most wondrously, the deer glowed faintly with cyan light. "He's casting Language Prime!" Nicodemus said. "But that's impossible. Only humans can...unless he's a familiar and..." His voice died as he realized that the ferns too glowed with Language Prime spells. Only the rocks were devoid of text.

"This must be fantasy!" he whispered.

"No, Nicodemus Weal, what you saw before you learned Language Prime was illusion. Now see the world with new eyes."

Just then a pale emperor moth fluttered before the window. A dark tentacle shot out to encircle the moth and drew it into the blackness.

Nicodemus jerked back in surprise. The liquid darkness around him became as thin as air. The window into the forest winked out of existence.

The large moth fluttered about in a panic. Because of the dark, Nicodemus could not see the insect's body; rather, he saw the Language Prime texts that saturated the creature.

"I have pulled this moth's mind into the Bestiary and given it a magical body that will behave exactly as its physical counterpart would. Now hold out your hand, Nicodemus Weal, and see into the life of things."

Nicodemus reached out and the moth fluttered about his arm for a moment before alighting on his thumb.

As the insect's legs grabbed hold of Nicodemus's skin, an ecstatic heat rushed through his body. He felt dizzy, almost intoxicated. His thoughts became as light and far ranging as smoke tendrils caught in the wind. Time slowed; even the movement of his blood seemed suspended.

Shining in his mind was a text longer than any he previously could have imagined. All the books in Starhaven could not have held half its length.The spell-though consisting of only four runes-contained innumerable twists, turns, and self-referential pa.s.sages.

But what shocked Nicodemus most, what sp.a.w.ned a mystical sense of wonder, was the certainty that this text was the same thing as the moth.

Nicodemus would have thought the spell beyond human comprehension if not for the perfect knowledge of it now shining in his mind.

It was true, then. He was an Imperial. He had been born with the gift to read and comprehend Language Prime.

The moth flapped its wings once. Nicodemus looked again at the pale, delicate creature and felt its endless, intricate beauty so keenly that his heart ached.

To him the moth was both a living animal and a poem.

He tried to speak, tried to explain the awe coursing through his veins like a drug, but all he could manage was a rapturous whisper, "She's the most beautiful spell."

"Touch any living thing and you will find the same language," Chimera said in a voice that had become almost sing-song. "I could provide for you the prose within an oak leaf or a trout's belly. I could show you the miniature creatures that infect wounds. In each you would find Language Prime. That is why this tome is called the Bestiary. It reveals that every beast and every plant is made from the Creator's language, from the Creator's G.o.dspell."

Nicodemus understood. "Life is magical language."

SLOWLY N NICODEMUS'S TRANCE began to dissipate. He put his free hand to his brow as the implications of his revelation unfolded. "So, if life is language...then Language Prime spellwrights could edit diseases from the sick, or close wounds by coordinating a body's healing, or rewrite wheat plants to produce more grain." began to dissipate. He put his free hand to his brow as the implications of his revelation unfolded. "So, if life is language...then Language Prime spellwrights could edit diseases from the sick, or close wounds by coordinating a body's healing, or rewrite wheat plants to produce more grain."

Chimera responded with an amused sniff. "You see why the Solar Empire was a paradise. Under the rule of the Imperial family, the continent knew neither plague nor famine."

"How do you know this, Chimera?"

She produced a long hissing sigh. "I was the oldest and most malcontent G.o.ddess on the ancient continent. I wanted to do more with the original languages. I wanted to rewrite a new breed of humanity. I thought that the Empire's use of Language Prime to improve the life they knew, and not invent new life, would lead ultimately to stagnation. And when Los was born, I knew I was correct."

"You knew Los? The first demon?"

Again the sigh. "I knew him before he rebelled. I knew his plans forLanguage Prime. That is why I fled the ancient continent. The Empire had forbidden me from textual experimentation. So I took my followers across the ocean to this new continent. Here I transformed my followers into the Chimerical peoples."

Something occurred to Nicodemus. "The Chthonics were once human?"

"They were. And so too were the Kobolds, the Goblins, the Lycanthropes, the Pelagics, the Incultans, and too many others. At first this continent was a paradise, but then my peoples began to fight each other. In hopes of governing them, I split my soul and impressed its parts into the many different Bestiaries. To each tribe I gave three books. But my efforts proved futile. The differences between the Chimerical peoples grew too great. When your ancestors crossed the ocean, they found my peoples divided."

She paused and made a low swishing sound. "At first, I hoped to repel your kind. Your deities were weak then. To escape the demonic host and cross the ocean, they had to slumber within their arks. This made them forget nearly everything they had known, including Language Prime. And your Imperial family was scattered. But my peoples, as divided as they were, were no match for humanity. Once your ancestors established a foothold on this continent, they slaughtered my peoples."

Nicodemus considered his words. "Chimera, why do you give me this knowledge? It is an extraordinary gift."

She did not answer for such a long time that Nicodemus began to worry that she had left. "I have given you the bitterest of knowledge. This marks the beginning of your suffering."

"What do you mean?"

"Think on the consequences of learning the original languages."

Nicodemus's brow furrowed. "I will see a glow around all living things. But...there's something I don't understand. Why haven't I or any other spellwright felt a synaesthetic reaction to Language Prime?"

"The runes of Language Prime are extremely weak. They can affect little outside a living body. No human synaesthetic reaction is sensitive enough to detect them." She paused. "But you're not considering what will happen now that you know the Creator's Language. Think harder. Your mind rewrites nearby eugraphic languages-that is how your childhood dreams wrote the night terrors that saved you from Fellwroth. But the original languages are not eugraphic. They are cacographic; their spellings are redundant and illogical. What happens when you touch text written in a cacographic language?"

The realization felt like a kick to the stomach. At first Nicodemuscouldn't talk. His heart raced and his tongue felt as if made of leather. "I...misspell them."

When Chimera spoke again her voice was low and doleful. "Look at the moth." A sphere of soft white light appeared next to Nicodemus's hand.

He looked and cried out in terror.

She had once been a delicate creature with a furry body, wide black eyes, feathery antennae. Her gossamer wings had once been pale cream punctuated with iridescent eyelike markings of yellow and black.

But the animal on Nicodemus's finger was now a bulbous, blackened corpse. Tiny, angry cankers of necrotic black bulged across her body like nightmare parasites.

Nicodemus cried out again. With his new knowledge, he saw how his cacographic mind had rearranged the moth's Language Prime text, causing parts of her body to grow into the monstrous swellings.

He snapped his hand back and the dead moth fell. The light winked out and Nicodemus was again floating in total darkness.

"Those were canker curses, weren't they?" Nicodemus asked between frantic breaths. "That's what Fellwroth did to Magister, isn't it? The monster misspelled the Language Prime texts in Magister's gut, and they're growing out of control."

Chimera didn't answer. She didn't have to. He knew it was true.

"I will misspell any living creature I touch," he realized aloud. "My cacography will sp.a.w.n error inside their bodies. I will spread cankers everywhere I go." He felt as if he might vomit.

Chimera made a low huffing sound. "Not all the changes you make will lead to cankers. Many of the changes you will impart to a living creature will have no effect. Some will even be beneficial. But now..." She stopped and made the huffing sound again. "Now you see the price I have exacted from you."

"I do," Nicodemus said, pressing his hands to his belly. "You said I might learn how Shannon's curse could be removed. You never said that I would be able to remove it."

"You still have hope. Presently the cankers are spread about his stomach like gauze. If you touch him and concentrate, you might aggregate the curse into a discrete ma.s.s-"

Nicodemus interrupted. "-which Deirdre's G.o.ddess might then remove." Shannon might yet be saved.

"I can't say that you've cheated me," he said after a moment. "This gives Magister a chance for life. I would have agreed to your terms even if I had known that it would make me into a monster."

A sudden idea made him start. "What if I recovered the Emerald of Arahest from Fellwroth?"

The darkness undulated. He could again feel her swimming around him. She said, "I would not want that."

"But if I regained my ability to spell, I wouldn't give the canker curse to everyone I touched. I could become a Language Prime spellwright like those of the Solar Empire. Chimera! Fellwroth said there is no Halcyon, but I might still use my Language Prime against the Disjunction."

The waves in the darkness stopped. "If you regain that part of yourself, you will be useless to the struggle against the demons."

"How can that be?"

She began to circle again. "Fellwroth wants to hide the full truth about prophecy from you."

"The golem said all the prophecies are false."

"All the human prophecies are false," she corrected. "And the golem spoke truly about that. The golem also told you that the members of your family are p.a.w.ns to be played by humanity or the Disjunction. In that too, he spoke part of the truth."

"What, then, is the whole truth?"

"Humanity uses the word 'prophecy' as if it were synonymous with the word 'destiny.' Nothing is destined. Prophecy is like rain falling on a mountain. The water must flow down. It must find its course in creeks and streams and rivers. One might calculate where the water would flow in a static world. In an unchanging landscape, we might say that this drop is destined to flow into this lake, this river flow into this ocean. But the world is always changing."

She paused to take in a long, liquid breath. "More important, the powerful may throw dams across rivers, may dig ca.n.a.ls, may build waterwheels. And that is exactly what I have done to you, Nicodemus. I have pushed you into the river that will oppose the demons of Los. I would see you become a river-king."

The sickening dread returned to Nicodemus. He was all too certain what she would say next. "And what metaphorical river are you speaking about?"

"You see this world as a battlefield between your kind and demonkind. But humans, G.o.ds, and demons are simply currents in a conflict of two larger forces: that of linguistic order and stasis, and that of linguistic error and change. The wizards worship order. They look to the forces that flow toward increasing order. They long for a Halcyon, a river-king of immutable language. They want everything made smooth and calm. And they fear the Petrel-a river-king of mutable language. The academy fears the storm andthe change the Petrel will bring. The academy a.s.sumes that unchanging language will fend off the demons."

Nicodemus's hands were no longer trembling; they were clenched in anger. "And you've decided that it's chaos and error that will oppose the demons? You've made me into a champion of mutable language?"

Chimera growled, "Life is mutable language, language that grows through error. Without error in Language Prime we are doomed. This is what I showed James Berr: I showed him that he could become the avatar of change, of disruption, of originality."

"Originality?" Nicodemus asked through grinding teeth. "By making us into monsters?"

"That which is original creates a new origin. That which is original, by definition, must stray off the previously worn paths. It must wander; it must err. Because of me, Nicodemus, you will generate mutable language, you will become mutagenic."

Something hot pressed against Nicodemus's back. "ALL THAT IS CREATIVE COMES FROM ERROR!" Chimera's voice boomed in his ear.

He spun round and tried to grab hold of her. "d.a.m.n you!" he bawled. "d.a.m.n you! You've made me into the Storm Petrel! You've made me into the monster!" His arms flailed wildly but struck nothing.

"You call that which errs grotesque?" Chimera asked from a distance. "You call the original monstrous? Then know that you've always been the monster. You've always been a cacographer. This is your true nature. This was James Berr's true nature. He too railed against it, and it consumed him. Will you deny your own self?"

"I AM NO JAMES BERR!" Nicodemus bellowed. "I never will be. I am no force of error. I wasn't supposed to be this way; I was cursed. I'll recover the emerald. I'll complete myself and become the Halcyon."

Chimera's response came as a low hiss. "You might yet wrest the Emerald of Arahest from the demons. That would make your life a lie. You will never escape your past as a cacographer. The emerald would make you a partial Halcyon. But know that there already is a true Halcyon."

"Impossible!"

"Fellwroth told you of the Alliance of Divine Heretics? The renegade deities also trying to breed a true Imperial?"

Nicodemus clenched his jaw. "The monster told me."

"Then know the Alliance has given you a half sister, your mother's other child. She's only a child now, but she may one day become the Halcyon. You never will."

The rage burning in Nicodemus exploded. Summoning all his strength,he filled his body with miles of sharp Numinous sentences and lashed out in the direction of Chimera's voice.

He shrieked as the incandescent sentence uncoiled into the darkness. The words of anger burned with a dazzling golden light.

And for a moment, outlined against the mundane blackness, there shone a creature made of darkness tangible. Her endless body spread out, looping and bulging like a worm's. In places her skin shone slick with black slime, in others k.n.o.bby branches covered in scales erupted from her serpentine flesh.

And then Nicodemus's misspelled sentences crumbled into a coruscation of golden sparks.

Chimera's next words. .h.i.t Nicodemus like thunder. "GO THEN AND DENY YOUR NATURE! SEEK YOUR EMERALD, YOUR LAPIDARY LIE!"