“Did he tell you the news from the North?” asked a tall girl with short black hair.
Nicodemus started to reply but then realized he did not know how much information he was supposed to share. He took in a breath and said, “I’m not sure if I’m allowed to tell you.”
“Or maybe you don’t know,” the brown-haired boy said in a tone so earnest it-just barely-diffused his confrontational words.
“Maybe I don’t,” Nicodemus admitted. “But you bring up an excellent point: I didn’t say if I actually had heard the news; my phrase simply suggested I had.”
The boy frowned.
“That might seem trivial, but it’s a good place to start when talking about spellwriting. Why might that be?”
Silence. More frowns.
“Why would I choose words that make it sound as if I know more than I do? Why might I want to use such self-aggrandizing language?”
“Because you can’t be a teacher without it?” the brown-haired boy asked snidely.
Though flushed with embarrassment, Nicodemus laughed. A few other students were smiling.
“Perhaps,” he admitted. “I was thinking more that such language encourages you to stop thinking about the news and start thinking about me, which would have helped focus you on the lecture material. Regardless, you must start thinking about such things now; if you are to become wizards, you must question how language is trying to manipulate you. What is it pushing you to assume? How is it distracting you?”
The boy raised his hand.
But this time Nicodemus grinned at him. “Put your hand down, lad. I’m not going to tell you if I actually did hear the news from the North. That was going to be your next question, wasn’t it?”
The boy nodded.
“Good lad. Persistence is spellwriting’s most important ingredient. What’s your name?”
“Derrick, Magister.”
Nicodemus widened his eyes. “Derrick Magister? You’re a wizard already?” A few of the students laughed.
The boy frowned. “I-”
Nicodemus put his hand to his mouth in mock surprise. “But you’re so young!” A few more students laughed.
“I meant you, Magister,” Derrick said in a tone heated enough that Nicodemus knew he should stop.
“Well, I’m flattered, Derrick. But as I mentioned, I’m only an apprentice.” He turned to the class. “This may be horrible for you, but today you’ll have to call someone over twenty by his first name!”
A few amused smiles.
“Let’s practice.” He pointed to the girl with short black hair. “Your name?”
“Ingrid.”
He pointed to himself. “My name?”
She opened her mouth but only blushed. Her neighbor leaned over, but Nicodemus rushed in. “No, no, you’re ruining the obnoxious-new-teacher effect.”
This won him a few more nervous laughs.
The smiling girl only grew redder.
“Nnnn…” he started for her. “Nnnnicooo…”
She continued experimentally, “Nicodermis?”
He squawked, “I sound like a skin disease.”
Genuine laugher.
“Sorry to pick on you, Ingrid, but it’s Nicodemus.” He turned to the class. “So, now all of you, my not-a-skin- disease-name is?”
As the class laughingly said his name, Nicodemus noticed the sunlight by the windows began to shimmer. “Well then, let’s start properly,” he said, moving toward the window. “This is a short lecture, and I’ll try to make it lively if…”
He paused. The shimmering air moved away from him. Warmth spread across his cheeks. Only with an effort could he stop his smile from wilting.
“… make it lively if you pay close attention.” He kept his tone casual even though he was now certain a subtextualized spellwright, most likely a sentinel, was in the room.
“So, how does one acquire magic language?” he asked, turning to the class. “Really it’s no different from learning a verbal or mathematical language. First, we learn the symbols. Verbal languages use letters, mathematical languages numbers, magical languages runes. However, anyone with a quill and an inkhorn can forge mundane text. Anyone with eyes can see mundane text. But to see or forge magical text, one must be born with a magically receptive mind.”
The boy with brown hair, Derrick, leaned over and whispered loudly to a friend.
Nicodemus walked toward the boys. “Note that when spellwrights speak of ‘literates,’ they are speaking of those who might achieve magical literacy. All of us in this room are literate; we are fortunate enough to be among the few born with magically sensitive minds.”
He stopped before Derrick, who was now forced to stop his whispering.
“Why are most humans born magically illiterate?” he asked rhetorically. “Some authors-sadly a few wizards among them-believe that the Creator has privileged spellwrights, that we are inherently better than the illiterates. Some authors feel we are meant to rule society. I will remind you-as Magister Shannon reminded me when I was a neophyte-that all of our parents are illiterate. Without illiterates we wouldn’t exist. Indeed, we owe them a great debt. We aren’t meant to rule, but to serve-”
Derrick spoke up. “I don’t understand. Why wouldn’t we exist?”
Nicodemus studied him. “Spellwrights can’t produce children. Moreover, the illiterate life is harder than ours.”
“I’m sorry, Nicodemus, but I still don’t understand.” Derrick’s tone seemed earnest, but the boys around him were snickering.
Nicodemus narrowed his eyes “What don’t you understand?”
“Why we can’t produce children.” This sponsored a wave of nervous tittering.
“Spellwrights are sterile,” Nicodemus answered, keeping the embarrassment from his expression only with supreme effort.
“You mean we’re clean?” Derrick asked, his voice cracking with amusement. His neighbors broke into open laugher.
“No, Derrick,” Nicodemus said, staring straight at the boy. If Derrick was going to force the issue, best to get it over with. “I mean that spellwrights can’t conceive children when they have sex.”
The room now rang with laughter. Nicodemus wondered if he could ever regain the class.
“Sex?” Derrick said with counterfeit shock and raised his hands to his cheeks. “Oh, my virgin ears!”
“Oh, your virgin everything else,” Nicodemus shot back in a deadpan tone.
The laughter rose to a crescendo. Derrick’s pale face flushed scarlet.
Nicodemus hurried to the front of the class. “So back to learning magical language. We’ve established that you all have literate minds. So armed, you can learn to forge runes within your muscles. And, as with any language, you will need to build a vocabulary and understand the grammar governing that vocabulary. After that, you will learn how to move the runes through your bodies, how to string them together in sentences, and finally how to cast them out into the world.”
The laughter had died, and now two dozen smiling faces were fixed on him. Encouraged, Nicodemus pressed on: “That is why you have attended anatomy lectures and why you will perform dissections. Learning the muscles and bones is especially important. You might want to wrap one paragraph around your humerus and another around your ulna, and so forth. Any questions?”
Derrick’s hand shot up.
Nicodemus rolled his eyes. “Let me rephrase: any questions about spellwriting?”
Smiling, the boy dropped his hand, producing another round of laughter.
Nicodemus nodded. “So then, let’s talk about different magical languages. Three are known to all magical societies and hence are known as the common languages. Jejunus is the first such language you will learn. Common
