Alcatraz Versus the Knights of Crystallia

  Who loved her.

  My Lenses were gone. My Talent was gone. I only had one thing left.

  I was a Smedry.

  "Folsom!" I screamed. "Do you love her?"

  "What?" he asked.

  "Do you love Himalaya?"

  "Of course I do! Please, don't let him kill her!"

  "Himalaya,” I demanded, "do you love him?"

  She nodded as the knife began to cut. It was enough.

  "Then I pronounce you married,” I said.

  Everyone froze for a moment. A short distance away, my mother turned and looked at us, suddenly alarmed. Fitzroy raised an eyebrow, his knife slightly bloodied. My theme music played faintly from the little book on the floor.

  "Well, that's touching,” Fitzroy said. "Now you can die as a married woman! I –“

  At that moment, Himalaya's fist took him in the face.

  The ropes that bound her fell to the ground, snapped and broken, as she leaped into the air and kicked the two thugs beside her. The men went down, unconscious, and Himalaya spun like a dancer toward the group standing behind. She cleared them all with a sweeping kick, delivered precisely, despite the fact that she seemed to have no idea what she was doing.

  Her face was determined, her eyes wide with rage; a little trickle of blood ran down her throat. She twisted and spun, fighting with a beautiful, uncoordinated rage, fully under the control of her brand-new Talent.

  She was now Himalaya Smedry. And, as everyone knows (and I believe I've pointed out to you), when you marry a Smedry, you get their Talent.

  I rolled to where Fitzroy had fallen. More important, where his knife had fallen. I kicked it across the floor to Bastille, who – being Bastille – caught it even though her hands (literally) were tied behind her back. In a second, she'd cut herself free. In another second, both Sing and I were free.

  Fitzroy sat up, holding his cheek, dazed. I grabbed the Disguiser's Lenses off his face, and he immediately shrank back to being spindly and freckled. "Sing, grab him and make for the archives room!"

  The hefty Mokian didn't need to hear that again. He easily tucked the squirming Fitzroy under his arm while Bastille attacked the thugs who were holding Folsom down, defeating them both. But then she wavered nauseously.

  "Get to the room, everyone!" I yelled as Himalaya kept the thugs at bay. Bastille nodded, wobbling as she helped the prince to his feet. Shasta watched from the side, yelling for the thugs to attack – but they were wary of engaging a Smedry Talent.

  After struggling for a second to get that band of glass off my arm – it wouldn't budge – I pulled open the drawer of the table and snatched the book my mother had stowed there.

  That left us with one major problem. We were right back where we'd been when I'd made us surrender. Retreating into the archives room wouldn't help if we remained surrounded by Librarians. We had to activate the swap. Unfortunately, there was no way I'd be able to reach those terminals. I figured I only had one chance.

  Folsom rushed past, grabbing the still-playing music book off the ground and snapping it closed so Himalaya could come out of her super-kung-fu-Librarian-chick trance. She froze midkick, looking dazed. She had dropped all the thugs around her. Folsom grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her into a kiss. Then he pulled her after the others.

  That only left me. I looked across the room at my mother, who met my eyes. She seemed rather self-confident, considering what had happened, and I figured that she figured that I couldn't escape. Go figure.

  I grabbed the pile of electrical cords off the ground and – pulling as hard as I could – yanked them out of their sockets in the machinery. Then I raced after my friends.

  Bastille waited at the door that led into the archives room. "What's that?" she said, pointing at the cords.

  "Our only chance," I replied, ducking into the room. She followed, then slammed the door – or, at least, what was left of it. It was pitch dark inside. I'd broken the lamps.

  I heard the breathing of my little group, shallow worried.

  "What now?" Sing whispered.

  I held the cords in my hands. I touched the tips with my fingers, then closed my eyes. This was a big gamble. Sure, I'd been able to make the music box work, but this was something completely different.

  I didn't have time to doubt myself. The Librarians would be upon us in a few moments. I held those cords, held my breath, and activated them like I would a pair of Oculator's Lenses.

  Immediately, something drained from me. My strength was sapped away, and I felt a shock of exhaustion – as if my body had decided to run a marathon when I wasn't looking. I dropped the cords, wobbling, and reached out to steady myself against Sing.

  "You're all dead, you know," Fitzroy sputtered in the darkness; he was still held – I assumed – under Sing's arm. "They'll burst in here in a second and then you're dead. What did you think? You're trapped! Sandless idiots!"

  I took a deep breath, righting myself. Then I pushed the door open.

  The blond Knight of Crystallia standing guard was still outside. "You all right?" she asked, peeking in. "What happened?" Behind her, I could see the stone stairwell of the Royal Archives, still packed with soldiers.

  "We're back!" Sing said. "How . . . ?"

  "You powered the glass," Bastille said, looking at me. "Like you did with Rikers's silimatic music box. You initiated a swap!"

  I nodded. At my feet, the cords to the Librarian machinery lay cut at the ends. Our swap had severed them where they'd poked through the door.

  "Shattering Glass, Smedry!" Bastille said. "How in the name of the first Sands did you do that?”

  "I don't know," I said, rushing out the doorway. “We can worry about it later. Right now, we've got to save Mokia.”

  CHAPTER 20

  Questions.

  We're at the end, and you probably have a few of them. If you've been paying attention closely, you probably have more than just "a few."

  You should probably have more than you do.

  I've tried to be honest, as honest as I can be. I haven't lied about anything important.

  But some of the people in the story . . . well, they're lying for certain.

  No matter how much you think you know, there is always more to learn. It all has to do with Librarians, knights, and, of course, fish sticks. Enjoy this next part. I'll see you in the Epilogue.

  “Aha!" I said, pulling not one but two pairs of Translator's Lenses from Fitzroy's jacket. The Dark Oculator himself lay tied up on the floor as we rode in the prince's giant glass pig. I'd told my soldiers to get some sort of equipment and dig to the corner of the archives room and remove the glass there, so that the Librarians couldn't swap the room back and steal any of the other books.

  "I still don't understand what happened," Sing said, sitting nervously as our vehicle plodded toward the palace.

  "Oculators can power glass," I said. "Like Lenses.”

  "Lenses are magic," Sing said. "That Transporter's Glass was technology."

  "The two are more similar than you think, Sing. In fact, I think all of these powers are connected. Do you remember what you said when you and I were hiding down there a few moments ago? The thing about your sister?”

  "Sure," Sing said. "I mentioned that I wished she'd been there, because she could have imitated one of the Librarians."

  "Which I could do with these," I said, holding up the pair of Disguiser's Lenses, which we'd retrieved from Fitzroy. "Sing, these work just like Australia's Talent does. If she falls asleep thinking about somebody, she wakes up looking just like them. Well, if I wear these and concentrate, I can do the same thing."

  "What are you saying, Alcatraz?" Folsom asked.

  "I'm not sure," I admitted. "It just seems suspicious to me. I mean, look at your Talent. It makes you a better warrior when you hear music, right?"

  He nodded.

  "Well, what do Bastille's Warrior's Lenses do?" I said. "They make her a better fighter. My uncle Kaz's Talent lets him tra
nsport people across great distances, which sounds an awful lot like what that Transporter's Glass did."

  "Yes," Sing said. "But what about your grandfather's Talent? It lets him arrive late to things, and there aren't Lenses that do that.”

  "There are lots of types of glass we don't know about," I said. I picked up one of the rings of Inhibitor's Glass, which we'd managed to get off our arms using a set of keys in Fitzroy's pocket. "You thought these were mythical."

  Sing fell silent, and I turned, watching through the translucent walls as we approached the palace. "I think this is all related," I said more softly. "The Smedry Talents, silimatic technology, Oculators . . . and whatever it is my mother is trying to accomplish. It's all connected."

  She didn't believe what she said about the Librarians ruling everything. She wasn't certain.

  She has different goals from the other Librarians. But what are they?

  I sighed, shaking my head, reaching over to pick up the book we'd brought from the archives. At least we had it, as well as both pairs of Translator's Lenses. I slipped the Lenses on, then glanced at the first page.

  Soups for everyone, it read. A guide to the best Greek and Incarna cooking.

  I froze. I flipped through the book anxiously, then took off the Lenses and tried the other pair. Both showed the same thing.

  This wasn't the same book.

  "What?" Sing asked. "Alcatraz, what is it?"

  "She switched books on us!" I said, frustrated. "This isn't the book on Incarna history – it’s the cookbook!" I'd seen her work with deft fingers before, when she'd snatched the Sands of Rashid right out from under my nose back in my room in the Hushlands. Plus, she had access to my father's Talent of losing things. It might be of help in hiding stuff.

  I slammed the book back down on the table. Around me, the rich, red-furnished room shook as the glass pig continued on its way.

  "That's not important right now," Bastille said in an exhausted voice. She sat on the couch beside Folsom and Himalaya, and she looked like she'd gotten even worse since we'd left the Librarians. Her eyes were unfocused, as if she'd been drugged, and she kept rubbing her temples.

  "We need to stop the treaty first,” she said. "Your mother can't do anything with that book as long as you have both pairs of Translator's Lenses."

  She was right. Mokia had to be our focus now. As the pig pulled up to the palace, I took a deep breath. "All right," I said. "You all know what to do?"

  Sing, Folsom, Himalaya, and Prince Rikers each nodded. We'd discussed our plan during the chapter break. (Neener, neener.)

  "The Librarians aren't likely to let this go smoothly,” I said, "but I doubt there will be much they can do with all of the soldiers and knights guarding the palace. However, they're Librarians, so be ready for anything."

  They nodded again. We prepared to go, and the door on the pig's butt opened. (I think that undermined our dramatic exit.) Bastille stood to go with us, wobbling on unsteady feet.

  "Uh, Bastille," I said. "I think you should wait here."

  She gave me a stiff glance – the kind that made me feel like I'd just been smacked across the face with a broom. I took that as her answer.

  "All right," I said with a sigh. “Let's go, then.”

  We marched out of the pig and up the steps. Prince Rikers called for guards immediately – I think he just liked the drama of having a full troop of soldiers with us. Indeed, our entrance into the hallway with the wall-hanging panes of glass was rather intimidating.

  The Knights of Crystallia standing at attention in the hallway saluted us as we passed, and I felt significantly more safe, knowing they were there.

  "Do you think your mother will have warned the others of what happened?" Sing whispered.

  "I doubt it," I said. "Mother's allies contacted She Who Cannot Be Named to gloat over having captured some valuable prisoners. You don't call to gloat over having lost those same prisoners. I think we'll surprise them.”

  "I hope so," Sing said as we approached the doors to the council room. We nodded to the pair of knights, and then I stepped aside.

  "Time for your big entrance, your Highness,” I said, gesturing for Prince Rikers.

  "Really?" he said. "I get to do it?"

  "Go ahead," I said.

  The prince dusted himself off. He smiled broadly, then strode through the doors into the chamber and bellowed in a loud voice, "In the name of all that is just, I demand these proceedings to be halted!"

  Down below, the monarchs sat around their table, a large document set out before them. King Dartmoor held a quill in his hand, poised to sign. We'd arrived just in the nick of time. (What the heck is a nick anyway?)

  The monarchs' table sat in the open area in the center of the room, between the two raised sets of bleacherlike seats that were filled with patrons. Knights of Crystallia stood in a ring around the bottom of the floor, between the people and the rulers. They were most concentrated, I noticed, near where the Librarians sat.

  She Who Cannot Be Named sat at the front of the Librarian group, pleasantly knitting an afghan.

  "What is this?" King Dartmoor asked as the rest of my team piled into the room.

  "The Librarians are lying to You, Father!" Rikers declared. "They tried to kidnap me!"

  "Why, that's the most distressing thing I've ever heard,” said She Who Cannot Be Named. (You know what? That name is really too hard to type all the time. From here on, I'm going to call her Swcbn.)

  My companions looked at me. I wore the Truthfinder’s spectacles, one eye closed to look through the single Lens. Unfortunately, Swcbn hadn't said anything that was false – she'd avoided doing so deliberately, I'm sure.

  "Father," Prince Rikers said, "We can provide proof of what happened!" He waved behind him, and the two knights we'd brought with us entered, carrying the tied and gagged Fitzroy. "This is a Librarian of the order of the Dark Oculators! He was involved in a plot to steal books from the Royal Archives –“

  "Mumf mu mumfmumf,” Fitzroy added.

  “– which turned into a plot to kidnap me, the royal heir!" Rikers continued.

  Rikers certainly did know how to get into a part. He didn't seem as much a buffoon now that he was in his element of the court.

  "Lady Librarian, “ King Dartmoor said, turning to Swcbn.

  "I'm . . . not sure what is happening,” she said. Another half-truth that didn't come out as a lie.

  "She does, Your Majesty," I declared, stepping up. "She ordered the death of Himalaya, who is now a member of the Smedry clan."

  That caused a stir.

  "Lady Librarian," the king said, red-bearded face growing very stern. "Is what he says true, or is it false?"

  "I'm not sure if you should be asking me, dear. It's quite –“

  “Answer the question!" the king bellowed. "Have Librarians been plotting to steal and kidnap from us while these very treaty hearings have been occurring?"

  The grandmotherly Librarian looked at me, and I could tell that she knew she was caught. "I think," she said, "that my team and I should be granted a short recess to discuss."

  "No recess!" the king said. "Either you answer as asked, or I'm tearing this treaty in half this instant."

  The elderly Librarian pursed her lips, then finally set down her knitting. "I will admit," she said, "that some other branches of the Librarians have been pursuing their own ends in the city. However, this is one of the main reasons we are signing this treaty – so that you can give my sect the authority it needs to stop the other sects from continuing this needless war!"

  “And the execution of my beloved?" Folsom demanded.

  "In my eyes, young man," Swcbn said, "that one is a traitor and a turncoat. How would your own laws treat someone who committed treason?"

  The room fell still. Where was my grandfather? His seat at the table was noticeably empty.

  "Considering this information," said King Dartmoor, "how many of you now vote against signing the treaty?”
br />   Five of the twelve monarchs raised their hands.

  “And I assume Smedry would still vote against the signing," Dartmoor said, "assuming he hadn't stormed out in anger. That leaves six against six. I am the deciding vote.”

  "Father," the prince called. "What would a hero do?”

  The king hesitated. Then, embarrassingly, he looked up at me. He stared me in the eyes. Then he ripped the treaty in two.

  "I find it telling," he declared to Swcbn, "that you cannot control your own people despite the importance of these talks! I find it disturbing that you would be willing to execute one of your own for joining a kingdom with which you claim you want to be friends. And, most of all, I find it disgusting what I nearly did. I want you Librarians out of my kingdom by midnight. These talks are at an end."

  The room exploded with sound. There were quite a number of cheers – many of these coming from the section where the Mokians, Australia included, were sitting. There were some boos, but mostly there was just a lot of excited chatter. Draulin approached from the ranks of knights, laying a hand on the king's shoulder and – in a rare moment of emotion – nodded. She actually thought that ripping up the treaty was a good idea.

  Maybe that meant she'd see Bastille's help in this entire mess as validation for restoring her daughter's knighthood. I glanced about for Bastille, but she wasn't to be found. Sing tapped my arm and pointed behind. I could see Bastille in the hallway, sitting in a chair, arms wrapped around herself, shivering. She'd lost her Warrior's Lenses back when we'd been captured, and I could see that her eyes were red and puffy.