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 doglike 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 the illuminated 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 acted as a headquarters to the librarians who tended the books at all hours. A maze of waist-high reference shelves radiated out from this building and surrounded ordered ranks of long study tables. The hundred or so studying wizards filled the air with the sounds of turning pages and hushed conversations.
Smallwood lectured on. “Now, about the Index, there is tremendous demand for the thing. The Council on Artifact Use must approve every query to make sure the book is never endangered. It is a difficult job, especially considering that, even though we know how to use the Index, we don’t know what makes it work. Its operative spells are written in an unknown language.” The wizard laughed. “There is also the matter of private libraries. Because the Index can search any codex within Starhaven’s walls, many grand wizards who illegally keep private libraries worry that their secrets might be discovered by rivals using the Index.”
The party continued with Shannon and Smallwood in the lead, Nicodemus in the middle, and the four sentinels trailing behind.
They reached the library’s rear wall and ventured into one of the many alcoves. Nicodemus had never noticed this particular inlet before. It stretched on for at least a hundred yards and seemed like a long, book-lined cave.
“You see, Nicodemus,” Smallwood said as they walked, “our research spell seeks to learn how the text around the Index works, for clearly the artifact possesses some form of textual intelligence. It might tell us much about quaternary cognition-how certain spells allow us to think with text. Some speculate the Index might be a Chthonic creation.”
Just then the party came to the cavern’s end and beheld a guardian spell sleeping in front of a wide metal door. The golden construct’s massive head rested upon her spherical Magnus passage. Slowly a single canine eyelid rose to reveal a burning eye. Suddenly the construct was on all fours, growling fiercely. Shannon tossed a thick stack of passwords at it.
The guardian snapped the text out of the air as if it were a ham steak. After a long distrustful stare, it bowed. Behind the spell, the door swung open to reveal a windowless room with stone walls. At the chamber’s center, a marble podium held the Index.
Polished brown leather covered the book’s face. Two brass bands wrapped around its spine, securing themselves to the board with three steel studs apiece. A single brass fore-edge clasp held the book shut, and triangular steel tabs protected its corners. As Nicodemus drew closer, he saw innumerable sunbursts etched into the brass. There was no ornate boss upon the face or jewels encrusted in the metalwork, but still it was one of the handsomest books he had ever seen.
After putting down his stack of manuscripts, Smallwood began to undo the buttons that ran down his sleeves, all the while instructing the sentinels to unload their books onto the empty shelves that lined the walls.
Shannon had already unbuttoned his sleeves to reveal arms that constant spellwriting had kept muscular in spite of his age. “Our research spell is named traseus,” he explained to Nicodemus. “It’s a Numinous and Magnus hybrid designed to visualize the movement of the artifact’s language as it searches for a mundane text. The only problem is that traseus is an expansive spell; that is why we need your assistance.”
Nicodemus cringed as he slipped his arms out of his apprentice sleeves. If Shannon and Smallwood required more runes than the two could produce on their own, it was going to be an onerous task indeed. He looked back at the sentinels, who presently were suffering one of Smallwood’s lectures. “Might we ask them to help?” Nicodemus asked Shannon softly.
“As fully invested wizards they would be offended. Besides I’d rather have them lounging about. If they become bored they’re more likely to be distracted.” He cleared his throat meaningfully.
Nicodemus nodded. “And how much of the spell has been written?” Most often grand wizards wrote long research spells over several days, storing subspells in scrolls or books. Then, at casting, they would peel off the subspells and splice them together.
“None,” Shannon admitted. “We’ve only drawn up outlines.”
“And how many runes will we require?”
“Several hundred thousand in each language,” Shannon said with a sigh. “I’m sorry, my boy, but this might tire you.” He stepped closer, a green sentence conspicuously draped across his forearm.
Nicodemus took the common language spell and translated it: “Don’t forget; your to distract Smlwd and wtch-hntrs.”
Nicodemus whispered, “Yes, Magister. Do you have any ideas how to sidetrack them?”
The old man shook his head slightly. “Do you?”
Nicodemus’s heart beat faster. “Not yet.”