Alcatraz versus the Knights of Crystallia (22 page)

"What?" she asked.

"Nice to see you're feeling better."

"I feel terrible," she s
napped, sliding on her dark sun
glasseslike Warrior's Lenses.
"I can barely concentrate, and
I've got this horrible buzzing in my ears.
Now shut up
and climb in the pig's butt."

I did as ordered, letting her pull me up.
Doing so was
harder for her than it would have been previously
–
being
disconnected from the Mindstone must have taken away
some of her abilities
–
but
she was still far stronger than
any thirteen-year-old girl had a right to be.
The
W
arrior's
Lenses probably helped; they're one of the few types
of Lenses that anyone can wear.

Bastille helped
S
ing up next as the prince rushed through
the glass pig
–
which
had a very nice, lush interior
–
calling
for his driver to turn around.

"
U
h, where are we going on our amazing adventure?"
the prince called.

Amazing adventure?
I
thought.
"To the palace," I called.
"We need to find my cousin Folsom."

"The palace?" the princ
e said, obviously disappointed –
for
him, at least, that was a fairly mundane location.
He
called out the order anyway.

The pig started to move again, tromping down the
street.
The pedestrians apparently knew to stay out of its
way, and despite its large size, it made very good time.
I sat
d
own on one of the regal red couches, and Bastille sat next
to me, exhaling and closing her eyes.

"Does it hurt?" I asked.

She shrugged.
She's good at the tough-girl act, but I
could tell that the severing still bothered her deeply.

"Why do we need Folsom?" she asked, eyes still closed,
obviously trying to distract me from asking after her.

"He'
ll
be with Himalaya," I said, then rea
li
zed that
Bastille had never met the Librarian. "She's a Librarian who
supposedly defected to our side six months back.
I don't
think she's to be trusted, though."

"Why?"

"Folsom stays suspiciously close to her," I said. "He
rarely lets her out of his sight
–
she's really a Librarian spy."

"Great," Bastille said.
“
And
we’re going to ask
her
for help?"

"She's our best bet," I said. "She is a fully trained
Librarian
–
if
anyone can sort through that mess in the
Royal Archive
s
–“

“Not a library!” Rikers called distantly from the front of the pig.

"
–
it
will be a Librarian.
Besides, maybe if she
is
a spy,
she'll know what the Librarians are looking fo
r
and we can
force it out of her."

"
S
o, your brilliant plan is to go to someone you suspect
of being our enemy, then bring her into the very place that
the Librarians are trying to break into."

"Er . . .yes."

“W
onderful.
W
hy do I feel that I'm going to end this
ridiculous fiasco wishing I'd just given up my knighthood
and become an accountant instead?"

I smiled.
It felt
good
to have Bastille back. It was hard for
me to feel too impressed by my own fame with her there
pointing out the holes in my plans.

"You don't really mean that, do you?" I asked.
“
About
quitting the knighthood?"

S
he sighed, opening her eyes.
"No.
As much as I hate to
admit it, my mother was right.
I'm not only good at this,
but I enjoy it."
S
he looked at
me
, meeting my eyes.
"
S
omebody set me up, Alcatraz.
I'm convinced of it.
They
wanted
me to fail
.”

"Your . . . mother was the one who voted most harshly
against your reinstatement."

Bastille nodded, and I could see that she was thinking
the same thing that I was.

"We have quite the parents, don't we?" I asked.
“
My
father ignores me; my mother married him just to get his
Ta
lent."

Marry a Smedry, and you got a T
a
lent.
Apparently, it
didn't matter if you w
ere a Smedry by blood or by mar
riage: A Smedry was a Smedry.
The only difference was that
in the case of a marriage, the spouse got their husband's or
wife's same T
a
lent.

"My parents aren't like that," Bastille said fiercely.
"They're good people.
My father is one of the most respected
and popular kings Nalhalla has ever known."

"Even if he is giving up on Mokia
,”
Sing said quietly
from his seat across from us.

"He
thinks
he's doing the best thing," Bastille said.
"Ho
w
would you like to have to decide whether to
end a war
–
and
save thousands of lives
–
or
keep
fighting?
He sees a chance for peace, and the people
want
peace."

“
My people want peace,"
S
ing said.
"But we want free
dom more."

Bastille fell silent.
“
Anyway,
”
she finally said, "assuming
my mother was the one to set me up, I can see exactly
why she'd do it.
S
he worries about showing favoritism
toward me.
S
he feels she needs to be extra hard on me,
which is why she'd send me on such a difficult mission.
To see if I failed, and therefo
re needed to go back into train
ing.
But she
does
care for me.
S
he just has strange ways of
showing it."

I sat back, thinking about my own parents.
P
erhaps
Bastille could come up with good motives for hers,
but they were a noble king and a brave knight.
W
hat did
I have? An egotistical rock-star scientist and an evil
Librarian who even other
Libraria
n
s
didn't seem to like
very much.

Attica and
S
hasta Smed
ry were not like Bastille's par
ents.
My mother didn't care about me
–
she'd married
only to get the T
a
lent.
And my father obviously didn
’
t want
to spend any time with me.

No wonder I turned out like I did. There is a saying
in the Free Kingdoms:
“
A cub'
s roar is an echo of the bear.”
It's a little bit like one we use in the Hushlands: "The apple
doesn't fall far from the tree."
(It figures that the Librarian
version would use apples instead of something cool, like
bears.)

I'm not sure if I ever had a chance to be anyth
i
ng but
the selfish jerk I became.
Despite Grandpa Smedry's chas
tisement, I still longed for the fleeting satisfaction of
fame.
It had been really nice to hear people talk about how
great I was.

My taste of fame sat i
n me like a corrupt seed, black
ened and putrid, waiting to sprout forth slimy dark vines.

"Alcatraz?" Bastille asked, elbowing me.

I blinked, realizing that I'd zoned out.
"Sorry," I
mumbled.

She nodded to the side.
Prince Rikers was approaching.
"I called ahead, and Folsom isn't at the palace," he said.

"He isn't?" I asked, surprised.

"No, the servants said that he and a woman looked over
the treaty, then left.
But never fear!
We can continue our
quest, for the servant said that we could find Folsom in the
Royal Garden
s
–“

"
No
t
a park," Sing said. "Or, er, never mind."

“- across the street.”

"A
ll
right," I said.
"What's he doing in the gardens?"

"
S
omething terribly exciting and important, I'd guess,"
Rikers said.
"Eldon, take notes!"

A servant in a scribe's robes appeared from a nearby
room, as if from nowhere, with a notepad. "Yes,
my
lord,"
the man said, scribbling.

"This will make an ex
cellent book," Rikers said, sit
ting down.

Bastille just rolled her eyes.

"So, wait," I said.
"You called ahead?
How'd you
do that?"

"Communicator's Glass," Rikers said.
"Lets you talk with
someone across a distance."

Communicator's Glass.
However, something about that
bothered me. I reached into my pocket, pulling out my
Lenses.
I'd once had a pai
r of Lenses that let
me
communi
cate across a distance.
I didn't have them anymore
–
I'd
given them back to Grandpa Smedry.
I did have the new set
of Disguiser's Lenses, though.
What about the power they
gave me?
If I was thinking about someone, I could make
myself look like them
. . . .

(By the way, yes, this is foreshadowing.
However, you'l
l
need to have read the
p
revious
two books in the series to figure out
what's going on
.
So
if
you haven’t read them,
then too bad for
y
ou!)

"Wait
,”
Bastille said, pointing at the Truthfinder's Lens
in my hand.
"Is that the one you found in the Library of
Alexandr
i
a?"

"Yeah.
Grandpa figured out that it's a Truthfinder's Lens
.
"

She perked up.
"Really?
Do you know how rare
those a
r
e?"

“W
ell . . . to be honest, I kind of wish that it could blow
things u
p
."

Bastille rolled her eyes.
"You wouldn't know a useful
Len
s if you cut your finger on it,
Smedry
.
"