“So you wanted some alone time with me?” Callan’s voice was completely even, but there was a glint in his eyes.
I took a pointed sip of hot toddy. “Yes, actually. I want to discuss some theories about the book.”
Callan raised an eyebrow. Behind us, the wind whisked thelibrary door closed, and there was a faint swirling sound that I knew was a light breeze creating a sound barrier around us.
He had been checking the library regularly for scouting plants, and so far had rooted out the only one he had found, placing it in a different portion of the academy.
“What’s on your mind?”
It was incredible how he could switch from mildly flirty casual-heartthrob Callan to strictly serious academic-heartthrob Callan.
“My field studies advisor said that when she visited the Louvre, she could sense theCompendium Floracantusbecause of the traces of magic it contains. Why do you think no one has sensed the magic of theVanished Compendiumyet?”
Callan contemplated my words. “It’s a good question and one I’ve thought about before. My best guess is that it’s being suppressed somehow.”
I frowned. That would throw a wrench in things. “Without the ability to sense it, it seems like it would be impossible to find.”
“It would, unless there was something that could serve as a tracking beacon,” Callan said casually, flipping one of the pages of a nearby book.
I sat up straighter.
He knew something.
“Spill.”
He studied my face for a moment, as if he wanted to drag out whatever reveal was coming. Finally, he said, “One line of inquiry has been into the quills that were used to write the books. Obviously, the books were penned before the printing press was widely available. There is evidence that suggests the magical botanists around that time connected their books to their quills. It helped them identify who the authors were in case anyone tried to steal another’s work. The quills would point in the direction of the book they authored.”
“They connected their quills to their books to avoid plagiarism?” I asked.
“Stealing art was a thing even back then, it seems.”
“So you’re saying that scholars think the quills that were used to write theCompendium Floracantusand the possibleVanished Compendiumare out there somewhere?”
“Not just somewhere. Many of the authors’ quills have been preserved over the years. They give off magical signatures like the one your field studies advisor mentioned. Most of them are still accessible. There’s even one that was said to have been used to pen the rumoredVanished Compendium.”
I sat up straighter. “Has anyone tried to use it?”
Callan leaned back in his seat and took a slow pull on his hot toddy. “The Root and Vine Society has attempted it multiple times over the years. By their accounts, it just spins around wildly and doesn’t point in a specific direction.”
My hope deflated like an underwater fiddle-leaf fig. “So it’s a dead end, then.”
“Maybe. Unless we learn why the quill spins, and how to make it stop.”
To console myself, I navigated to a section of theCompendium Floracantusthat referenced magic that tied things together. Getting my brain around how the quills operated might take the sting off the letdown.
Across the table from me, Callan fell into quiet research as well, both of us reading and sipping our drinks. By the time I neared the end of the section I was studying, a warm buzz was filling my brain. I heard Callan sigh and flip his book closed, and I prepared to call it a night.
Then my eyes snagged on a footnote. I read it once, twice, then jumped to my feet.
“Are you okay?” Callan asked, clearly startled. The loose waves on the top of his head had extra volume now, as if he’d been running his hands through them while he read.
“Read this.” I slid the book toward him and watched as his eyes began to scan the page. “The footnote,” I clarified.
Callan spoke aloud. “’The magic tying two objects together that was used during this period required a piece of every affinity power the botanist wielded. Because most botanists at the time are believed to have had every affinity power, modern botanists are unable to replicate this type ofFloracantus at the same level.’”
I waited with bated breath for Callan’s reaction.
“What am I not seeing?” Callan asked, clearly sensing the excitement in me.
