The Grimm Legacy by Polly Shulman Page A

the key. Well done, Elizabeth Rew! And now, I’m pleased to present you with the key to the Grimm Collection. Guard it with care and use it with wisdom.” Doc unclipped the binder clip from the exam and put it in my hand.
    “This is the key? A binder clip ?”
    “Exactly.”
    “But . . .” Well, I thought, Anjali’s key was a barrette. Why shouldn’t mine be a binder clip? “How does it work?” I asked.
    “Come downstairs and I’ll show you.”

    “. . . Let me in and all is well,” I sang, pressing my binder clip against the door that had so frustrated me only an hour before. Doc was impressed by how quickly I’d memorized the rhyme—and by how calmly I’d taken the news that the room was full of genuine magic. Naturally, I didn’t explain that I’d seen it already.
    I had more trouble with the exit tune, but I got it right after six or seven tries. My music teacher, Mr. Theodorus, would have been proud of me.
    “What if I forget the exit song? Will I get stuck here?” I asked, remembering my panic and hoping it wouldn’t show. “Doesn’t that violate all sorts of fire laws?”
    “Technically, I suppose. But if there’s a fire, the Grimm Collection is the place to be. As far as fires go, it’s the safest room in the entire repository—besides the Garden of Seasons, of course, if you can call that a room. You’ll see there are some pretty powerful objects down here, with powerful senses of self-preservation. And the guards we set on the door will keep out most natural threats.”
    As if on cue, the door opened from the outside. I jumped, but it was only Ms. Callender. She hugged me. “Congratulations, Elizabeth! See, I told you there was nothing to worry about, sweetie. Gumdrop? Go ahead, take two—you deserve it. Did Dr. Rust show you around?”
    “Not yet,” said Doc. “Want to help?”
    “Of course! Where should we start? Let’s see . . . Elizabeth, do you have a favorite fairy tale?”
    “Sure, lots of them. If I had to pick just one, though . . . I love ‘The Twelve Dancing Princesses.’”
    “Then you’re in luck. This way.”
    I followed Ms. Callender through the aisles to the shelves of shoes. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing nervously at the boots I’d just shelved. They were sitting right where I put them, looking dull and harmless.
    “There you go!” With a flourish of her hand, Ms. Callender pointed to the twelve pairs of shoes I’d wondered about, the ones with holes in their soles.
    “Those are the princesses’ shoes?”
    She nodded. “Twenty-four of their shoes, anyway.”
    “Can I touch?”
    “Go ahead.” She picked up a purple silk pump and handed it to me. “Here’s the twelfth princess’s pair.”
    The smell of magic was so strong in this room, and my nerves were so fluttery from everything that had happened, I couldn’t quite tell whether I was feeling my own excitement or actual magic. “Does it . . . I mean, is it . . .”
    “Is it what?”
    “Is it—you know—magical?”
    “No, not the shoes.”
    “Oh.” I was disappointed. Still, this wasn’t just any dancing shoe—it was the shoe that the youngest princess had worn to dance with the smart soldier who figured out how the princesses were sneaking out at night. Magic or not, that was pretty amazing.
    “You don’t have the soldier’s cloak here, do you?” I asked. “The cloak of invisibility that he used to follow the princesses to the dance?”
    Doc and Ms. Callender exchanged glances. “We’re not sure,” said Doc at last. “It’s supposed to be here, but nobody can find it.”
    “Did it get misshelved?”
    “I don’t know,” said Ms. Callender. “It might just be invisible.”
    “Oh. But you have other magical things, right?”
    “Yes, many.”
    “Could I see one?”
    “Of course,” said Doc. “Let’s see, what should I show you? . . . Do you remember ‘The Spirit in the Bottle’?”
    “Is that the one where the student lets the spirit out of the bottle, and