Page 122 of The Spellreader and the Phoenix

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” Max confirmed.

They both tugged upward, and sure enough, the lid lifted as though there was no impediment.

Inside were unbound pieces of paper, square like the box. They had thick ink etched across them… in a completely incomprehensible array. They weren’t spells, just short, abstract lines.

Max pulled out one sheet and then another and another. The paper was old. It looked like it may have been handmade, although it was incredibly well-preserved, and Max assumed there’d been other spells on the box and/or the paper.

He turned the papers every which way and then handed a few to Rory, who looked at them with keen interest.

Max couldn’t deny feeling disappointed. He’d assumed there’d be important spells in here. He’d been ready to begin cataloguing, to marvel at something, and instead… abstract art?

And then Rory tilted his head, narrowing his eyes a little. He reached out and traced one edge of a page.

“This says 1.” He tapped another edge. “This says 2.”

Max blinked, frowned, and peered more closely at the papers.

“No, it doesn’t.”

Rory argued, “Yes, it does.” He considered for a moment. “I wonder if only mythical shifters can see it. Or birds. Birds have more cones in their eyes.”

“But you’re not a bird right now,” Max pointed out.

Rory shrugged. “I’m always a bird. Sometimes I also look like one.”

Max supposed that Rory did always talk like that. His eyes went back to the pages. More than one number on each page…

“Do any of them have numbers on all four edges?” he asked.

Rory took a quick look, and then confirmed in growing excitement. “Yes. What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking that they connect together. This one that only has it on two sides is a top corner. Or a bottom corner, I suppose, if we’ve got it upside down.”

Rory was grinning now, his enthusiasm infectious. “Can we put it together?”

Nothing was going to stop them, honestly. Except… they probably didn’t have room in here.

“We’re going to have to do it somewhere else,” Max told Rory.

“There’s a ballroom,” Rory suggested eagerly. “Mrs. Davenport said it hasn’t been used in years. So it’s big and empty!”

That did sound like the perfect place. Had Mr. Jones known what he had? Or was a house of this size simply able to provide whatever it was that they needed?

They put all the papers back, resealed the box, and tied it in its wrapping. Max hoped they weren’t going to be let down again, but he felt the need to be careful as well. This had been very well hidden, and maybe it hadn’t been for the world’s most annoying joke.

They were able to emerge into the library, and sure enough, no one was in there to prevent the secret panel from opening. Max would have to give some thought to how that would work if there were eventually more of them here actually cataloguing or using the books. The secret repository was the coolest, but it wasn’t necessarily practical when you weren’t a rich dude who owned everything and didn’t let people visit.

Well, that was a worry for another time.

For now, they needed the ballroom.

“I think it’s over here!” Rory told Max, practically skipping along the corridor in his excitement. “Mrs. Davenport mentioned it gets lots of southern light at the back of the house.”

Max had no idea when Rory had had this conversation, but it didn’t really surprise him that the man was making all these connections.

He followed in Rory’s wake, and after only three false turns and a point at which Max thought they were hopelessly lost, Rory opened yet another set of doors to reveal a cavernous room.