Alcatraz versus the Knights of Crystallia (15 page)

The point of these progr
ams, of course, is to be so bla
tantly awful and painful to watch that the children wish
they were back in school.
That way, when they have to get
up the next morning and do long division, they'll think:
W
ell, at least I'm not at ho
me watching that terrible after-
school special.

I include this explanation here for all of you in the Free
Kingdoms so that you'll understand what I'm about to say.
It's very important for you to understand that I don't want
this book to sound like an after-school special.

I let my fame go to my head.
The point of this book isn't
to show how that's bad, it's to show the truth about me as a
person.
To show what I'm capable of.
That first day in
Nalhalla, I think, says a lot about who I am.

I don't even
like
hooberstackers.

Deep within the innards of Keep
S
medry, we approached
a room with six guards standing out front.
They saluted
Grandpa
S
medry; he responded by wiggling his fingers at
them.
(He's like that sometimes.)

Inside, we discovered a group of people in black robes
who were polishing a large metal box.

"That's quite the box," I said.

"Isn't it, though?" Grandpa Smedry said, smiling.

"
S
houldn't we be summoning a dragon or something to
take us to Crystallia?"

"This will be faster," Grandpa Smedry said, waving
over one of the people in robes.
(Black robes are the Free
Kingdoms' equivalent of a white lab coat.
Black makes
way more sense
–
this
way, when the scientists blow
themselves up, at least the robes have a chance of being
salvageable.)

"Lord Smedry," the woman said.
"We've applied for a
Swap Time with Crystallia. E
verything will be ready for you
in about five minutes."

"Excellent, e
xcellent!" Grandpa Smedry said.
Then his
face fell.

"What?" I asked, alarmed.

"
Well, it's just that . . . we'r
e
early
. I'm not sure what to
think about that.
You must be having a bad influence on
me, my boy!"

"Sorry," I said. It was hard to contain my anxiety.
Why
hadn't I thought of going to help Bastille?
Would I arrive in
time to make a difference?
If a train left Nalhalla traveling
at 3.14 miles an hour and a train left Bermuda at 45 MHz,
what time does the soup have pancakes?

"Grandfather," I said as we waited.
"I saw my mother
today.
”

"Folsom mentioned that.
You showed great initiative in
following her."

"She's
got
to be up to something."

"Of course she is, lad.
Problem is, what?"

"You think it might be related to the treaty?"

Grandpa Smedry shook his head.
"Maybe.
Shasta's a
tricky one.
I don't see her working with
the W
ardens of the
S
tandard on one of their projects unless it were helping her
own goals.
Whatever those are."

That seemed to trouble him.
I turned back to the
robed men and women.
They were focused on large
chunks of glass that were affixed to the corners of the
metal box.

"What is that thing?" I asked.

"Hum?
Oh.
T
r
ansporter's Glass, lad!
Or, well, that's
Transporter's Glass at the corners of the box.
W
hen the
right time arrives
–
the
one we've scheduled wit
h the engi
neers at a similar box up in Crystallia
–
both
groups will
shine brightsand on those bits of glass.
Then the box will be
swapped with the one over in Crystallia."

"
S
wapped?" I said.
"You mean we'll get teleported
there?"

“Indeed! Fascinating technology. Your father helped develop it, you know.”

“He did?”

"Well, he was the first to discover what the sand did,"
Grandpa Smedry said.
“
We'd known that the sand had
Oculatory distortions; we didn't know what it did.
Your
father spent a number of
years researching it and discov
ered that this new sand could teleport things.
But it only
worked if two sets of Transporter's Glass were exposed to
brightsand at the same time, and if they were transporting
two items that were exactly the same size."

Brightsand.
It was the fuel of silimatic technology.
When
you expose other sands to brightsand's glowing light, they
do interesting things.
Some, for instance, start to float.
Others grow very heavy.

I could see enormous canisters in the corners of the
room, likely filled with brightsand.
The sides of the con
tainers could be pulled back, letting the light shine on the
Transporter's Glass.

"So," I said. "You had to send ahead to Crystallia and tell
them what time we were coming so that they could activate
their Transporter's Glass at the same time."

"Precisely!"

"What if someone else activated
their
brightsand at
exactly the same time that we do? Could we get teleported
there by accident?"

"I suppose," Grandpa Smedry said. "But they'd have to
be sending a box
exactly
the same size as this one.
Don't
worry, lad.
It would be virtually impossible for that kind of
error to happen!"

Virtually impossible.
The moment you read that,
you probably assumed that the error would
–
of
course
–
h
a
ppen
by the end of this book. You assumed
this because you've read far too many novels.
You make it
very difficult for us writers to spring proper surprises on
you because
–

LOOK
OVER THERE!

See, didn't work, did it?

"All right," one of the black-robed people said.
"Step
into the box and we'll begin!"

Still a little worried about a disaster that was "virtually"
impossible, I followed Grandpa
S
medry into the box.
It felt
a little like stepping into a large elevator.
The doors shut,
then immediately opened again.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"Wrong?" Grandpa Smedry said.
"Why if something
had gone wrong, we'd have been shredded to little pieces
and turned into piles of sludge!"

"
W
hat
?"

"Oh, did I forget to mention that part?" Grandpa
Smedry said.
"Like I said, virtually impossible.
Come on,
my boy we have to keep moving!
We're late!"

He scuttled out of t
he box, and I followed more cau
tiously.
We had, indeed, been teleported somewhere else.
It
had been so quick I hadn't even felt the change.

This new room we entered was made completely of
glass.
In fact, the entir
e
building around me seemed to be
made of glass.
I rem
embered the enormous glass mush
room I'd seen when flying into the city, with the crystalline
castle built atop of it.
It was a safe bet I was in Crystallia.
Of
course, there was also a pa
ir
of knights holding massive
swords made entirely from crystal standing at the doorway.
They were kind of a clue too.

The knights nodded to Grandp
a
Smedry, and he bustled
out of the room, and I followed hastily.
"We're really there?"
I asked.
“
Atop the mushroom?"

"Yes indeed
,”
Grandpa Smedry said.
"It's a
rare privilege
to be allowed into these halls.
Crystallia is forbidden to
outsiders."

"Really?"

Grandpa Smedry nodded.
"Like Smedrious, Crystallia
used to be a sovereign kingdom.
During the early days of
Nalhalla, Crystallia's queen married their ki
n
g and swore
her knights as protectors of their noble line.
It's actually
a rather romantic and dramatic story
–
one
I would
eagerly tell you, except for the fact that I recently forgot it
based on its being far too long and having not enough
decapitations."

“
A just reason for forgetting any story."

"
I
know
,”
Grandpa Smedry said.
“
Anyway, the treaty
that merged Nalhalla and Crystallia stipulated that the land
atop the mushroom become home to the knights, and is
off-limits to common citizens.
The order of knights also
retained the right to discipline and train its
m
embers, once
recruited, without interference from the outside."

"But aren't we here to interfere?"

"Of course we are!" Grandpa Smedry said, raising a
hand.
"That's the Smedry way!
We interfere with all kinds
of stuff!
But we're also Nalhallan nobility, which the knights
are sworn to protect and
–
most
important
–
not
kill for
trespassing."

"That's not a very comforting rationale for why we
might be safe here."

"Don't worry," Grandpa Smedry said happily.
"I've
tested this.
J
ust enjoy the view!"

It was tough.
Not that the view wasn't spectacular
–
we
were walking down a hallway constructed entirely from
glass blocks.
It was late aft
ernoon outside, and the translu
cent walls refracted the light of the sun, making the floor
sparkle.
I could see shado
ws of people moving through dis
tant hallways, distorting the light further.
It was as if the
castle were alive, and I could see the pulsing of its organs
within the walls around me.

It was quite breathtaking.
However, I was still dealing
with the fact that I'd betrayed Bastille, that I'd just risked
being turned into a pile of goo, and that the only thing
keeping me from being cut apart by a bunch of territorial
knights was my last name.

Beyond that, there was the sound.
It was a quiet ringing,
like a crystal vibrating in the distance.
It was soft, but it was
also one of those things that was very hard to un-notice
once you spotted it.

Grandpa Smedry obviously knew his way around
Crystallia, and soon we arrived at a chamber being
guarded by two knights.
The crystal doors were closed,
but I could vaguely make out the shapes of people on the
other side.

Grandpa Smedry walked over to open the door, but one
of the knights
raised his hand. "Y
ou are too late, Lord
Smedry," the man said.
"The judgment has begun."

"What?" Grandpa Smedry declared.
"I was told it
wouldn't happen for an hour yet!"

"It is happening now," the knight said.
As much as I like
the knights, they can be . . . well, blunt.
And stubborn.
And
really bad at taking jokes.
(
W
hich is why I feel I need to
mention page 40 again, just to annoy them.)

"Surely you can let us in," Grandpa Smedry said.
"We're
important witnesses in the case!"

"Sorry," the knight said.