He sat down. “We would both get what we want.”

“I don’t take well to threats, Magister. I’m not your student any longer. You can’t possibly connect me to any faction. Besides, I have precious few sentinels available to me as it is. With the convocation in progress, the provost’s officers are stealing my every free author to look after our guests. But what you say does make some sense.” She paused. “Very well, I’ll place two guards before the Drum Tower at night and two to follow Nicodemus. But I’m also assigning two to follow you.”

Shannon suppressed a smile. “I shall welcome the protection. But we have to make sure the endangered boys don’t leave Starhaven. I’ll reemphasize my orders that cacographers are not to be let out of doors. You had best seal the Drum Tower at night and write protective wards on the doors and windows. I’ll need passwords in case I have to reach the students.”

Amadi nodded slowly. “Very well.”

Shannon sighed in relief. “Amadi, you’ll be glad you took my advice. Now I must go to my field research in the compluvium. Nicodemus will meet me there; I will lead your sentinels over from here. They can watch over us both. Later we’ve more research in the Main Library.”

Amadi leaned forward and spoke earnestly: “Magister, I will go to the Gimhurst Tower and search for Finn’s private library. But, as I have said, there is no direct evidence that either of the boys was murdered. Please keep an open mind about the counter-prophecy. Consider that Nicodemus might be the Storm Petrel.” She paused. “I suspect we are dealing with a force far more dire than a simple murderer.”

“Magistra,” he said, “I suspect the same thing.”

DEIRDRE CALMLY REGARDED Amadi. A moment ago, the woman had appeared at her chamber door and demanded an interview.

“What is your interest in Nicodemus Weal?” the sentinel asked, sitting on Kyran’s sleeping cot.

Deirdre sat on the opposite cot. She had expected the question. “As you observed, Amadi Okeke, I had hoped the boy might be the Peregrine safely delivered to me. But his keloid dashed my hopes.” It was not truly a lie-the keloid had dashed her hopes… that Nicodemus would be easily won over.

Amadi nodded distractedly. “Druid, does your Order know of a counter-prophecy?”

“I have never heard of such a thing.”

“The Erasmine Counter-Prophecy is not common knowledge, even among wizards. It predicts that a malevolent spellwright will arise to become the Halcyon’s opposite, a champion of chaos referred to as the Petrel or the Storm Petrel.”

“And this champion,” Deirdre asked, “might slay the Halcyon and help the demons invade our land?”

The sentinel nodded. “The counter-prophecy predicts that unless we can stop it, the Petrel will begin a corruption of all language. The demons will complete it.”

Deirdre willed her face to be calm. “And Nicodemus’s unusual scar and his misspelling makes you suspect that he might be this destroyer?”

Amadi took a slow breath. “Doubtless you’ve heard rumors about… unrest in Starhaven. We have noticed a number of dangerous misspells, a few accidents, but nothing that should concern you as a delegate. As a sentinel, my first concern is maintaining safety throughout the convocation. To that end, I entertain all theories of what might be causing these odd events.” She paused. “If the druids also know of a counter-prophecy and could identify Nicodemus as-”

“We do not believe in a counter-prophecy,” Deirdre interrupted.

“But perhaps those concerned with the Silent Blight might think differently? Should I speak to the other druidic delegates?”

Deirdre shook her head. “We do not believe in a counter-prophecy of any kind. And the druids are not at all certain the Blight is connected to prophecy. I fear we cannot help you.”

“I see. Thank you, druid, for your time.” Amadi stood and stepped toward the door.

Deirdre rose with her. “If there is any other way I can help, you have only to ask.”

Amadi paused by the threshold. “Perhaps…” she said, turning back. “I wonder if you could tell me… do the druids know of a construct that appears to be made of flesh, but once deconstructed becomes clay?”

The strength seemed to drain from Deirdre’s legs. “Have you encountered such a creature?” she asked in what she hoped was a tone of disbelief, not shock.

The sentinel was studying her face. “I surprise you. Don’t think me mad for asking such a question. Magister Shannon and I were debating if such a thing was possible.”

Deidre forced her lips to smile. “I do not think it mad to wonder such things. We must always seek new understandings.” She paused. “What if Nicodemus truly is the dangerous spellwright of your counter-prophecy?”

The sentinel shook her head. “There is no need to be alarmed. In less than a quarter hour, I will have two guards following the boy night and day. His tower will be textually sealed at night. The moment we have evidence that he is dangerous or connected to the counter-prophecy, we’ll censor his mind and lock him up in a cell below the Gate Towers.”

“Thank you for telling me.” Deirdre bowed.

Amadi returned the gesture and left. Slowly the sentinel’s footsteps faded down the hall.

“How much of that did you hear?” Deirdre asked.

“Enough,” Kyran said from behind her. “So it seems the black-robes have encountered the demon-worshiper you guessed was nearby. Do I need to explain about the creature turning from flesh to clay?”

She turned and saw his silhouette glimmer as he let the invisibility subtext deconstruct. “No, you bloody don’t.”

The subtext fell from Kyran’s head, revealing a stern expression. “We should take the boy now. Our goddess can protect him once we get him to the ark.”

Deirdre rubbed her eyes. “We can’t. You heard the sentinel; she’s placing guards around the boy.” The pressure on her eyelids caused floating orange-black splotches across her vision. “Ky, do you think we could find the author’s body, kill the demon-worshiper while the creature is sneaking about?”

“No. The true body could be anywhere.”

Deirdre swore. “And if Amadi Okeke gets it into her head that Nicodemus is this Petrel, she’ll censor him and send him to his death in that prison cell.”

“He wouldn’t be safe from the creature when locked up?”

She dropped her hands and gave him an exasperated look. “What would happen if you tied up a lamb and left it in the sheep pen?”

He grimaced. “The lycanthropes would come out of the woods.”

CHAPTER Seventeen

Nicodemus stared at the flecks of stew that spangled his emptied lunch bowl.

Midday sunlight was streaming into the refectory-a wide Lornish hall lined with tapestries and clear-glass windows. Above, broad rafters marched across the ceiling and provided hanging posts for the academy’s banners. Farther down the table, several librarians whispered about the horrible news from Trillinon.

Using his spoon, Nicodemus began to flatten the drops of congealing stew on the inside of his bowl. A mash of conflicting emotions seethed within his mind.

Half an hour before, he had hurried into the refectory, heart pounding. The nightmare had been as vivid as the previous night’s dragon dream. He had been sure it had also come from the murderer, but he couldn’t imagine why the villain would send him such strange visions.

He had mulled over the nightmare’s images while fetching his stew and finding a private space to sit. The more he thought about the dream, the more it seemed that the episodes of the neophyte and the turtles were incongruous. That had calmed him somewhat. Mundane nightmares were filled with nonsensical shifts. Perhaps the bizarre sequence meant that the dream was simply a dream.

Whatever the case, Nicodemus had told himself, Shannon would know what to do about it; there was no use in worrying now.