Still a little stunned, I did so.
‘I just got done speaking with Folsom and his lovely friend Himalaya,’ Grandpa Smedry said, pleasantly smiling, as if he hadn’t just smacked me in the face. ‘It seems that they think you are reckless!’
‘That’s a problem?’
‘Velcroed Verns, of course not! I was quite proud to hear that. Recklessness and boldness, great Smedry traits. Thing is, they said some other things about you – things they’d only admit after I pushed them on it.’
‘What things?’
‘That you’re self-centered. That you think you’re better than regular people, and that all you talk about is yourself. Now, this didn’t sound like the Alcatraz I knew. Not at all. So I came back here to investigate – and what did I find? A pile of Attica’s sycophants lounging about my castle, just like the old days.’
‘My father’s sycophants?’ I asked, glancing at the room a little down the hallway. ‘But they’re fans of mine! Not my father’s.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Yeah, they’ve read my books. They talk about them all the time.’
‘Alcatraz, lad,’ Grandpa Smedry said. ‘Have you read those books?’
‘Well, no.’
‘Then how the blazes do you know what’s in them?’
‘Well, I . . .’ This was frustrating. Didn’t I deserve to finally have someone looking up to me, respecting me? Praising me?
‘This is my fault,’ Grandpa Smedry said with a sigh. ‘Should have prepared you better for the kinds of people you’d find here. But, well, I thought you’d use the Truthfinder’s Lens.’
The Truthfinder’s Lens. I’d almost forgotten about it – it could tell me when people were lying. I pulled it free from my pocket, then glanced at Grandpa Smedry. He nodded back down the hallway, so hesitantly I stood up and took off my Oculator’s Lenses, walking down the hallway to the room.
I looked in, holding the Truthfinder’s Lens in front of my eye.
‘Alcatraz!’ Rodrayo said. ‘We’ve missed you!’ As he spoke, he seemed to spit mouthfuls of black beetles from his mouth. They squirmed and writhed, and I jumped backward, removing the Lens. The beetles vanished when I did so. I hesitantly replaced the Lens.
‘Alcatraz?’ Rodrayo asked. ‘What’s wrong? Come in, we want to hear more about your adventures.’
More beetles. I could only assume that meant he was lying.
‘Hey,’ said Jasson, ‘yeah. Those stories are fun!’
Lying.
‘There’s the greatest man in the city!’ another said, pointing at me.
Lying.
I stumbled away from the room, then fled back down the hallway. Grandpa Smedry waited for me, still sitting on the floor. ‘So,’ I said, sitting down next to him. ‘It’s all lies. Nobody really looks up to me.’
‘Lad, lad,’ Grandpa Smedry said, laying a hand on my shoulder. ‘They don’t know you. They only know the stories and the legends! Even that lot in there, useless though they tend to be, have their good points. But everyone is going to assume that because they’ve heard so much about you, they know you.’
They were wise words. Prophetic, in a way. Ever since I left the Hushlands, I’ve felt like every person who looked at me saw someone different, and I wasn’t any of them. My reputation only grew more daunting after the events at the Library of Congress and the Spire of the World.
‘It’s not easy to be famous,’ Grandpa Smedry said. ‘We all deal with it differently. Your father gluts himself on his fame, then flees from it. I tried for years to teach him to keep his ego in check, but I fear I have failed.’
‘I thought . . .’ I said, looking down. ‘I thought if he heard people talking about how wonderful I was, he might actually look at me once in a while.’
Grandpa Smedry fell silent. ‘Ah, lad,’ he finally said. ‘Your father is . . . well, he is what he is. We just have to do our best to love him. But I worry that the fame will do to you what it’s done to him. That’s why I was so excited that you found that Truthfinder’s Lens.’
‘I thought it was for me to use on the Librarians.’
‘Ha!’ Grandpa Smedry said. ‘Well, it could be of some use against them – but a clever Librarian agent will know not to say any direct lies, lest they get caught in them.’
‘Oh,’ I said, putting the Truthfinder’s Lens away.
‘Anyway, you look better, lad! Did the old family remedy work? We can try again if you want . . .’
‘No, I feel much better,’ I said, holding up my hands. ‘Thanks, I guess. Though it was nice to feel like I had friends.’
‘You do have friends! Even if you are kind of ignoring them at the moment.’
‘Ignoring them?’ I said. ‘I haven’t been ignoring anyone.’
‘Oh? And where’s Bastille?’
‘She ran off on me,’ I said. ‘To be with the other knights.’
Grandpa Smedry snorted. ‘To go on trial, you mean.’
‘An unfair trial,’ I spat. ‘She didn’t break her sword – it was my fault.’
‘Hum, yes,’ Grandpa Smedry said. ‘If only there were someone willing to speak on her behalf.’
‘Wait,’ I said. ‘I can do that?’
‘What did I tell you about being a Smedry, lad?’
‘That we could marry people,’ I said, ‘and arrest people, and . . .’ And that we could demand a right to testify in legal cases.
I stood up, shocked. ‘I’ve been an idiot!’
‘I prefer the term “nigglenut”,’ Grandpa Smedry said. ‘Though that’s probably because I just made it up and feel a certain paternal sense toward it.’ He smiled, winking.
‘Is there still time?’ I asked. ‘Before her trial, I mean?’
‘It’s been going on all afternoon,’ Grandpa Smedry said, pulling out an hourglass. ‘And they’re probably almost ready to render judgment. Getting there in time will be tricky. Limping Lowrys, if only we could teleport there via use of a magical glass box sitting in the basement of this very castle!’
He paused. ‘Oh, wait, we can!’ He leaped to his feet. ‘Let’s go! We’re late!’
10
There’s a dreadful form of torture in the Hushlands, devised by the Librarians. Though this is supposed to be a book for all ages, I feel that it’s time to confront this disturbing and cruel practice. Somebody has to be brave enough to shine a light on it.
That’s right. It’s time to talk about after-school specials.
After-school specials are a type of television programming that the Librarians put on right when children get home from school. The specials are usually about some kid who is struggling with a nonsensical problem like bullying, peer pressure, or gerbil snorting. We see the kid’s life, his struggles, his problems – and then the show provides a nice, simple solution to tie everything up by the end.
The point of these programs, of course, is to be so blatantly 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: Well, at least I’m not at home 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 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 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 ope
n 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.
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