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 Smedry, we approached a room with six guards standing out front. They saluted Grandpa Smedry; 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.
"Shouldn'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. Everything will be ready for you in about five minutes."
"Excellent, excellent!" Grandpa Smedry said. Then his face fell.
"What?" I asked, alarmed.
"Well, it's just that . . . we're 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 Wardens of the Standard 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. Transporter's Glass, lad! Or, well, that's Transporter's Glass at the corners of the box. When the right time arrives – the one we've scheduled with the engineers 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."
"Swapped?" 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 discovered 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 containers 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 – happen 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 Smedry 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!"
"What?"
"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 the box, and I followed more cautiously. 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 entire building around me seemed to be made of glass. I remembered the enormous glass mushroom 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 pair of knights holding massive swords made entirely from crystal standing at the doorway. They were kind of a clue too.
The knights nodded to Grandpa 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 king 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 members, 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. Just 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 afternoon outside, and the translucent walls refracted the light of the sun, making the floor sparkle. I could see shadows of people moving through distant 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 betraye
d 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. "You 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. (Which 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.
"We are also close personal friends of the knight involved."
“Sorry.”
"We also have very good teeth," Grandpa Smedry said, then smiled.
This seemed to confuse the knight. (Grandpa Smedry has that effect on people.) However, once again, the knight simply shook his head and said, "Sorry."
Grandpa Smedry stepped back, annoyed, and I felt a twist of despair. I'd failed to help Bastille after all she'd gone through for me. She should have known that she shouldn't rely on me.
"How are you feeling, lad?" Grandpa Smedry asked.
I shrugged.
“Annoyed?" he prompted.
"Yeah."
"Frustrated?"
"A bit."
"Bitter?"
"You're not helping."
"I know I'm not. Angry?"
I didn't answer. The truth was, I did feel angry. At myself, mostly. For partying with Rodrayo and his friends while Bastille was in trouble. For forgetting about Mokia and its problems. For letting my grandfather down. It hadn't been that long ago that I'd always assumed that I'd let everyone down. I'd pushed people away before they could abandon me.
But working with Grandpa Smedry and the others had made me begin to feel that I could lead a normal life. Maybe I didn't have to alienate everyone. Maybe I was capable of having friendships, of having family, of . . .
There was a slight cracking sound.
"Oops!" Grandpa Smedry said in a loud voice. "Looks like you've gone and upset the boy!"
I started, looking down, realizing that I'd let my Talent crack the glass beneath my feet. Twin spiderwebs of lines crept from my shoes, marring the otherwise perfect crystal. I blushed, embarrassed.
The knights had grown pale. "Impossible!" one said.
"This crystal is supposed to be unbreakable!" the other said.
"My grandson," Grandpa Smedry said proudly. “He has the breaking Talent you know. Upset him too much, and the entire floor could shatter. Actually, the entire castle could –“
"Get him out, then," one of the knights said, shooing me away like one might treat an unwanted puppy.
"What?" Grandpa Smedry said. “Antagonize him by throwing him out, and you could destroy the castle itself! We'll just have to see if he calms down. His Talent can be very unpredictable when he's emotional."
I could see what Grandpa Smedry was doing. I hesitated, then focused my power, trying to further crack the glass at my feet. It was an extremely foolhardy thing to do. That's what made it exactly the sort of plan Grandpa Smedry would come up with.
The spiderwebs at my feet grew larger. I steadied myself by touching the wall, and immediately created a ring of cracks around my hand.
"Wait!" one of the knights exclaimed. “I'll go in and ask if you can enter!"
Grandpa Smedry beamed. "What a nice fellow" he said, taking my arm, stopping me from breaking more. The knight opened the door, stepping inside.
*Did we really just blackmail a Knight of Crystallia?" I asked under my breath.
"Two of them, I believe," Grandpa Smedry said. “And it was really more 'intimidation' than it was 'blackmail.' Maybe with a twist of 'extortion.' It's always best to use the proper terminology!"
The knight returned, then – with a sigh – gestured for us to enter the chamber. We walked in eagerly.
And then Grandpa Smedry exploded.
CHAPTER 11
Okay, so he didn't really explode. I just wanted you to turn the page really fast.
You see, if you turn the pages quickly, you might rip one of them. If you do that, then – obviously – you'll want to go buy another copy of the book. Who wants one with a ripped page? Not you. You have refined tastes.
In fact, think of all the wonderful ways you can use this book. It will make an excellent coaster. You could also use it as building material. Or you could frame the pages as art. (After all, each page is a perfect work of art. Look at 56. Exquisite.)
Obviously, you need lots of copies. One isn't enough. Go buy more. Have you forgotten that you need to fight the Librarians?
Anyway, after getting done not exploding, Grandpa Smedry went into the chamber. I followed, expecting to find a courtroom. I was surprised to find only a simple wooden table with three knights sitting behind it. Bastille stood by the far wall, at attention, hands at her sides, staring straight ahead. The three knights at the table weren't even looking at her as they decided her punishment.
One of the knights was a masculine, burly man with an enormous chin. He was dangerous in an "I'm a knight, and I could totally kill you" sort of way.
Next to him was Bastille's mother, Draulin, who was dangerous in an "I'm Bastille's mother, and I could also kill you" sort of way.
The third one was an elderly, bearded knight who was dangerous in a "Stop playing your rap music so loud, you darn kids! Plus, I could kill you too" sort of way.
Judging by their expressions, they were not happy to see my grandfather and me. "Lord Smedry," the man with the chin said, "Why have you interrupted these proceedings? You know you have no authority here."
"If I let that stop me, I'd never have any fun!" Grandpa Smedry said.
"This is not about fun, Lord Smedry," Bastille's mother said. "It's about justice."
"Oh, and since when has it been 'just' to punish someone for things that were not their fault?"
"We are not looking at fault," said the aged knight. "If a knight is incapable of protecting his or her charges, then that knight must be removed from his or her station. It is not young Bastille's fault if we promoted her too quickly and –“
"You didn't promote her too quickly," I snapped. "Bastille is the most amazing knight in your ranks."
“And you know much about the knights in our ranks, young Smedry?" the aged knight asked.
He was right. I felt a little foolish – but then when has that ever stopped a Smedry?
"No," I admitted. "But I do know that Bastille has done a fantastic job of protecting my grandfather and me. She's an excellent soldier – I saw her go head-to-head with one of the Scrivener's Bones and hold her own with only a dagger. I've seen her take down two Librarian thugs before I could even finish blinking."
"She lost her sword," Draulin said.
"So?" I demanded.
"It's the symbol of a Knight of Crystallia," Big Chin said.
"Well, get her another sword, then!" I snapped.
"It's not that easy," the old knight explained. "The fact that a knight is not capable of caring for her sword is very disturbing. We need to maintain quality in the order for the good of all nobility."
I stepped forward. "Did she tell you how the sword broke?"
"She was fighting Alivened," Draulin said. "She rammed it in one of their chests, then she was hit and knocked aside. When the Alivened was killed by falling
through the floor, the sword was lost."
I glanced back at Bastille. She didn't meet my eyes.
"No," I said, looking back at them. "That's what happened, yes, but it's not what happened. It wasn't the fall, or even the death of the Alivened, and the sword wasn't just lost. It was destroyed. By me. My Talent."
The big-chinned knight gave a chuckle at that. "Lord Smedry," he said, "I understand that you are loyal and care for your friends, and I respect you for it. Good man! But you shouldn't make such wild exaggerations. Everyone knows that full Crystin shards are impervious to things like Oculator's Lenses and Smedry Talents!"
I stepped forward to the table. "Hand me your sword, then."
The knight started. "What?"
"Give it to me," I said, holding out a hand. "Let's see if it's impervious."
There was silence in the small glass chamber for a moment. The knight seemed incredulous. (Crystin don't let others hold their swords. Asking Big Chin to give me his was a little like asking the president to loan me his nuclear missile launching codes for the weekend.)
Still, backing down would make Big Chin look like he believed my claim. I could see the indecision in his eyes, his hand hovering toward the hilt of his weapon, as if to hand it over.
"Be careful, Archedis," Grandpa Smedry said quietly. "My grandson's Talent is not to be underestimated. The breaking Talent, by my estimation, hasn't been manifest this powerfully for centuries. Perhaps millennia."
The knight moved his hand away from the sword. "The breaking Talent," he said. "Well, perhaps it is possible for that to affect a Crystin sword."
Draulin pursed her lips, and I could tell that she wanted to object.