The Specter Key Read Online Free

still, though Bran knew she was alert, her golden beak darkening in the setting sun.
    Adi grabbed a hidden handle in the bookshelf, pulling the door open to reveal a long set of stairs. Everyone followed her up to the attic and her secret office.
    The air was rather comfortable, though tinged with the scent of wood. The television was muted; on-screen a reporter from the Mages Entertainment Channel 0 jabbered silently. To the left of Adi’s desk was a birdcage-shaped object covered with a blanket and to the right were boxes of tightly packed books on magic—all kept secret from the City of Dunce.
    Bran set the cash box on her desk, and they gathered around it. Polland produced a screwdriver, and Bran pushed it into the lock, expecting to break it open as quickly as the others in the vault, but this one wasn’t as simple.
    “A regular picklock, aren’t you, Bran?” Astara said, trying to lighten the room. He dug the screwdriver farther, giving the lock a sharp wrench. All eyes were on him, the air filled with anticipation.
    What if it’s nothing? he thought, but then the latch popped.
    “There,” he said, setting the screwdriver aside. He flipped the lid open and drew back so everyone could see.
    It was another box, made of thick brown wood, the dark grains of it stained and smoothed to a perfect shine. As Bran lifted it, he could feel there was something inside, sliding about. He turned it and saw that at every corner there was a brass fixture, and around the rim that joined the lid to the base, another length of flat brass, dull and etched with designs. Opposite the hinges was a thick clasp with a keyhole. Whatever this box was, it was ancient and captivating.
    Taped to the top was something very out of place—a folded scrap of paper, which Bran couldn’t help but peel off. When he did, the burned shape of a crescent moon, carved into the box’s surface, was revealed. It was the same shape as his mother’s necklace.
    “Odd…” he said, studying the mark and brushing his finger across it. It was very plain, but the black burn of the shape was so perfect, even to the points, as if seared by a master artist.
    “That is odd,” Adi agreed, her eyes filled with alarm. She knew the dark past behind Bran’s necklace. His fingers ran over where the lid was clasped. There was no key to be found.
    “I guess I’ll have to break this open, too,” Bran said, but Adi seized his hand.
    “Wait, Bran—this box is probably very old,” she said. “It might be better to leave it up to a professional lock picker.”
    Bran nodded slowly in agreement.
    “I’m on the job,” Polland said. He took Bran’s screwdriver and slid his cleaned goggles back on, which magnified his eyeballs like fish eyes. Then he set the box on his lap and inspected the lock closely in the light.
    “Look, Bran, there’s something written on that paper,” Astara said. In his haste, he hadn’t even taken the time to look at the sheet. She moved beside him as he carefully peeled it apart, revealing two words in smooth, crisp black handwriting.
    “Nigel Ten,” Bran read aloud, and he looked up. “Who is that, Adi?”
    She furrowed her brow. “I haven’t heard of any Tens living around here.”
    “Me neither,” Astara said, looking at the page curiously. Bran glanced at Polland, who was struggling with the lock. He had the screwdriver jammed into the latch and was gently trying to pry the lid apart. It didn’t budge, and all of a sudden an invisible force seemed to spit the screwdriver back at Polland, knocking him against the chair.
    “Bother! Stuck tight, that’s for sure,” Polland growled. “I’ve used every trick I know, too.”
    “What if I try magic?” Astara asked, and Polland perked up.
    “Wonderful idea,” he said. “I’m sure there’s a Netora magic to open the lock.”
    He slid out of the chair, sucking his sore thumb, then retrieved a thick book off the shelf behind Adi’s desk and paged through it rapidly until