The Specter Key Read Free Page B

stairs.
    “That would be Polland,” she said. “He’s working on disarming a gnome trap.”
    “By shooting at it?” Bran asked.
    “No, just disarming it.” Astara shrugged and pushed open the door, revealing a room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. There was a large fireplace at the far end; chairs and a sofa were neatly arranged in front of it. The fire was out, though sitting in the middle of the floor was something new: a row of bright orange traffic cones. They stood in a long line, ten of them, though three were in a very odd state. They looked as if they had gotten themselves turned inside out. A stench of gunpowder clung to the room, and a gentle cloud wafted in the air. As it rose to the ceiling, Bran spotted Polland lying in a heap in the corner. Adi was helping him to his feet as he spluttered curses under his breath.
    “Blasted bramble of gnome traps!” Polland spat, holding his tall red cap on his head with one hand. He wore a green shirt underneath a pair of dirty, brown overalls with black buttons, and a pair of thick goggles over his eyes; the lenses were coated by a dusty film. Polland was the size of a seven-year-old child, at most, but his thick beard and ruddy cheeks proved that he was one of the very things Dunce stood against: a gnome hiding within its own walls.
    “You got two yesterday without any trouble,” Adi consoled him. She looked up at Bran.
    “Hello, what a surprise,” she said.
    Polland pushed her hand off and dusted his clothes.
    “Gnome traps…disguised as traffic cones?” Bran questioned.
    “Another ghastly invention by the Decensitists, no less,” Polland grumbled. “You can’t even tell which are traffic cones and which are gnome traps.”
    “The Decensitists think that gnomes are so stupid,” Adi explained, “that the moment they see something reddish and cone shaped, they’ll immediately run forward and give it a hug.”
    “And then…” Polland grabbed a book off the shelf, aimed carefully, and threw it at the gnome trap. It hit against the side of the one closest to them, but instead of knocking it over, there was a pop like a pistol shot and blast of smoke. The gnome trap sprang up, inverting itself and swallowing the book in midair. Bran jumped.
    “What a poor fellow who should happen to fall into its clutches!” Polland said, lifting his goggles to reveal a patch of clean skin underneath. “Might very well pin his arms so he can’t escape even if he turns to stone!” He drew himself up proudly. “I’ve been practicing tactics of disarmament.”
    He reached down to the floor for a long stick that looked like a pool cue, held it out at arm’s length, biting his tongue as he did, and gave the top of the next cone a sharp thwack! The instant he cracked down the gnome trap gave a wobbly little jump but didn’t close and fell back to the ground like a limp rag doll.
    Polland rushed forward and seized it immediately. “Disarmed!” he announced. “Just whack the top, and it turns it off. Trick is to not hit the sides by accident…as I learned the hard way.”
    Bran laughed, imagining Polland flying across the living room, arms flailing. Adi noticed the box in his hands. “And what’s that you’ve got there?” she asked, stepping closer.
    “Read the name,” he said. He held up the box so Polland could read it as well. A dark mood fell over the entire room.
    “Where in the world did you find this, Bran?” Adi whispered.
    He told her about the vault and how he had come to her house to be safe before opening it.
    “Smart thing to do,” she muttered. “We’ll take it up to my office. Do you have a key for the box?”
    “I think a screwdriver will work fine,” Bran said with a hint of dryness. He followed Adi into a messy office, papers strewn about and the window uncovered, the last bits of sunlight poking through. This room, too, was littered with books, and also held a large cage on one wall that housed Adi’s crow, Ginolde. The crow was