Page 52 of The Spellreader and the Phoenix

Mr. Jones glared back. “Sometimes you have to be patient, young man. It takes time to be certain of things.”

Max gestured. “It looks like you’ve about expended all the time allotted to you!”

It was Peter’s turn to stiffen, and Rory said, “Wow. I see why the two of you always fought when you talked to one another. You’re very similar.”

They both glared at him, and Rory laughed. “Yes, yes, and now you’re both annoyed. Max, I’m sure Mr. Jones wasn’t testing you for fun. And Mr. Jones, Max really does have a lot of witches that he helps with spells. It matters to him that spells be accessible and that people get reliable information about those spells.”

“Will you look at a few spells for me?” Mr. Jones asked.

“Testing me again?” Max asked sourly. “Were the earlier tests not enough?”

“You have demonstrated the ability to send me spells that meet the parameters I have set, but I don’t know that you identified the spells.”

Max looked for a moment like he was going to lose his temper, but then he suddenly nodded. “They could have been already labeled by my mother, you mean, and I just sent you the results. Yes, that’s fair enough. Some of the work in the shop is certainly hers, or even my great-grandfather’s. Our goal has always been to make the knowledge accessible, and we aren’t about to get rid of the work of previous generations. What would you like me to look at?”

Mr. Jones gave a nod to Peter, who produced several sheets of paper from a locked drawer.

He set them down on a desk by the window, and Max went over to inspect them.

“The first is a fire spell. It is designed to burn only the item that it is directed at and nothing else. The undo spell doesn’t work for it, but it has a counter. Would you like me to say the counter word?”

Mr. Jones smiled. “No, thank you. That is acceptable.”

Max moved to the second spell, and after barely a glance, he declared, “This is not a spell.”

“No?” Mr. Jones asked.

Curious, Rory came over to look over Max’s shoulder. “It looks like a spell.”

Max nodded. “It does. But it’s not. I’m guessing it’s an effort of a witch who isn’t a Spellsmith, who tried to make a spell as so many do. Thankfully, this is one of the ones that simply isn’t.”

“What else could it be?” Rory asked, confused.

Max grimaced. “If someone who is not a Spellsmith takes a spell and makes a minor modification in the design, it usually breaks the spell, but it can sometimes… twist instead. It is no longer the original spell, but it wasn’t broken quite enough to fail entirely. Almost invariably, these twisted spells are harmful.”

Rory nodded. Ah, yes. He had heard of those, hadn’t he?

Max continued, “It’s why the Council bans the modification of spells, and the punishments are harsh. Most people know the dangers, but every once in a while, you get someone who decides that they’ve cracked the code or they think they’re just smarter than everyone else. Or they see a Spellsmith make an amendment and think that means they can mimic their addition and make their own. That’s just not how it works.”

“Very good,” Mr. Jones said. “Quite right, quite right. What about the last one?”

Max flipped to the third page, and then with a sound that was shockingly loud in the quiet room, he tore the page in half, then again and again.

Rory gaped at him.

“No,” Max said, glaring. “I don’t deal with spells like that.”

He jerked to his feet, strode across the room, and tossed the fragmented pieces into the fire.

Rory was still staring.

Mr. Jones demanded, “I thought you promoted knowledge and the sharing of spells?”

Max whirled on him, his expression angry. “That’s nonsense when it comes to spells that were created only to hurt people. Certain spells are dangerous, and they can be contained appropriately. They should not be shared, but there may be a use for them. But spells like that?” Max’s hand chopped through the air, and his voice was implacable. “There is absolutely no reason for those to exist, and preserving them only encourages someone to use them at some point. I’ll have no part in it.”

Mr. Jones, strangely, was smiling. “You’ll do.”

Ah. Another test, apparently.