Alcatraz Versus The Evil Librarians Part 7

"He's quite capable, though," Grandpa Smedry said. He's a language specialist who focuses on Hushlander dialects."

"So," I said, holding up a finger. "Let me get this straight. Our strike team consists of a loony old man, and anthropologist, a grad student, and two kids."

Grandpa Smedry and Sing nodded happily. Bastille, leaning against the library wall a short distance away, gave me a flat stare. "You see what I have to work with?"

I nodded, beginning to understand where she might have gotten such a grumpy att.i.tude.

"Oh, don't be like that," Grandpa Smedry said. He walked over, putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me aside. "Here, lad, I've got some things I want to give you."

Grandpa Smedry pulled open his tuxedo jacket and removed two pairs of spectacles. "You'll recognize these," he said, holding up a yellow-tinted pair. "I used them back when I first picked you up from the house. They're fairly easy Lenses to wield if you can already do readings like you did on the library building, you should be able to use these."

I accepted the gla.s.ses, then covertly tried them on. At first, nothing changed but then I thought I saw something. Footsteps, in various colors, fading slowly on the ground around me.

"Tracks," I said with surprise, watching as Sing wandered over to another gutter, leaving a trail of blue footprints on the concrete behind him.

"Indeed, lad," Grandpa Smedry said. "The better you know a person, the longer the footprints will remain visible. Once we get inside, we'll split up you and I are the only Oculators in the group, and so we're the only ones who will be able to sense where the sands are. But the inside of a library can be deceptively large. Sometimes the stacks form mazes, and it's easy to get lost. If you lose your way, you can use these Tracker's Lenses to retrace our footprints. Also, you can probably track me down, if necessary."

I glanced down. Grandpa Smedry's footprints glowed a blazing white, like little bursts of flame on the ground. I could easily see the trail of white back to Grandpa Smedry's black car, still parked across the street.

"Thanks," I said, still feeling a little apprehensive as I removed and pocket the Tracker's Lenses.

"You'll do fine, lad," Grandpa Smedry said, picking up a second pair of gla.s.ses. "Remember, this is your your inheritance we're searching for. You lost it, and you'll have to get it back. I can't hold your hand forever." inheritance we're searching for. You lost it, and you'll have to get it back. I can't hold your hand forever."

I felt like noting that I had seen very little hand-holding in this adventure so far. I didn't really know what was going on, didn't quite trust my sanity anymore, and wasn't even convinced that I wanted my inheritance back. Grandpa Smedry, however, didn't give me an opportunity to complain. He held up the second pair of gla.s.ses they had mostly clear Lenses, with a little dot of red at the center of each one.

"These," he said, handing the Lenses to me, "are one of the most powerful pairs of Oculatory Lenses I possess. However, they're also one of the easiest to use, which is why I'm loaning them to you."

I eyed the gla.s.ses. "What do they do?"

"You can use them for many purposes," Grandpa Smedry said. "Once you switch them on you just have to concentrate a bit to do that they'll begin gathering the light around you, then direct it out in concentrated beams."

"You mean, like a laser?" I asked.

"Yes," Grandpa Smedry said. "These are very very dangerous, Alcatraz. I don't carry many offensive Lenses, but I've found these too useful to leave behind. However, let me warn you if there really is a Dark Oculator in there, he'll be able to sense when you activate these. Only use the Firebringer's Lenses in an emergency!" dangerous, Alcatraz. I don't carry many offensive Lenses, but I've found these too useful to leave behind. However, let me warn you if there really is a Dark Oculator in there, he'll be able to sense when you activate these. Only use the Firebringer's Lenses in an emergency!"

Don't get too worried this isn't the sort of story in which emergencies occur. Yes, it is highly unlikely that you will ever see those Firebringer's Lenses activated. So don't get your hopes up.

I accepted the Firebringer's Lenses from my grandfather and they immediately started glowing.

"Cavorting Cards!" Grandpa Smedry yelped, dodging to the side as the Lenses blasted a pair of intensely hot beams into the ground just in front of my feet. I hopped backward in shock, nearly dropping the Lenses in surprise.

Grandpa Smedry grabbed the Lenses from behind, deactivating them. The scent of melted tar rose in the air, and I blinked, my vision marked by two bright afterimages of light.

"Well, well," Grandpa Smedry said. "I told told you they were easy to use." He glanced up at the building. "We should be too far away for that to have been sensed...." you they were easy to use." He glanced up at the building. "We should be too far away for that to have been sensed...."

Great, I thought. As my vision cleared, I could see Bastille rolling her eyes.

Sing waddled over, raising his sungla.s.ses and inspecting the three-foot-wide disk of blackened, half-melted concrete. "Nice shot," he noted. "I think it's dead now."

I blushed, but Grandpa Smedry just laughed. "Here," he said, slipping a small velvet bag around the Firebringer's Lenses. He pulled the drawstring tight at the top. "This should keep them safe. Now, with these Lenses and your Talent, you should be able to handle pretty much anything the Librarians throw at you!"

I accepted the gla.s.ses back, and fortunately they didn't go off. Now, as I was telling you previously, these Lenses will probably never never get used in this story. You'll be lucky if you ever get to see them fired. Again. get used in this story. You'll be lucky if you ever get to see them fired. Again.

"Grandfather," I said quietly, eyeing Bastille, then stepping aside again with Grandpa Smedry. "I'm not sure that I can do this."

"Nonsense, lad! You're a Smedry!"

"But I didn't even know I was until earlier today," I said. "Or... well, I didn't know what being a Smedry meant. I don't think... well, I'm just not ready."

"What makes you say that?" Grandpa Smedry asked.

"I tried to use my Talent earlier," I said. "To stop Bastille from smacking me with her purse. It didn't work. And that wasn't the first time sometimes I just can't make things break. And when I don't don't want them to break, they usually do anyway." want them to break, they usually do anyway."

"Your Talent is still wild," Grandpa Smedry said. "You haven't practiced it enough. Being a Smedry isn't just about having a Talent, it's about finding out how to use use that Talent. A clever person can make anything turn to his advantage, no matter how much a disadvantage it may seem at first. that Talent. A clever person can make anything turn to his advantage, no matter how much a disadvantage it may seem at first.

"No Smedry Talent is completely controllable. However, if you practice enough, you'll begin to get a grasp on it. Eventually, you'll be able to make things break not just when and where you want, by also how how you want." you want."

"I...," I said, still uncertain.

"This doesn't sound like you, Alcatraz," Grandpa Smedry said. "Where's that spark of spirit that stubbornness that you're always tossing about?"

I frowned. "How do you know what I'm like? You only just met me."

"Oh? You think I've left you in Librarian hands all this time, never checking in on you?"

Of course he checked on me, I thought. I thought. Bastille mentioned something about that. Bastille mentioned something about that. "But you don't know me," I said. "I mean, you didn't even know what my Talent was." "But you don't know me," I said. "I mean, you didn't even know what my Talent was."

"I suspected, lad," Grandpa Smedry said. "But I'll admit I usually got to your foster homes after after you'd moved somewhere else. Still, I've been watching over you, in my own way." you'd moved somewhere else. Still, I've been watching over you, in my own way."

"If that's the case," I said, "then why "

"Why did I leave you to the foster homes?" Grandpa Smedry asked. "I'm not that great a parent. A boy needs somebody who can arrive on time to his birthdays and ball games. Besides, there were... reasons for letting you grow up in this world."

That didn't seem like much of an explanation to me, but Grandpa didn't look like he'd say more. So, I just sighed. "I just can't help feeling like I won't be much help in this fight. I don't know how to use my Talent, or these Lenses. Maybe I should get a gun or a sword or something."

Grandpa Smedry smiled. "Ah lad. This war we're fighting it isn't about guns, or even about swords."

"What is it about then? Sand?"

"Information," Grandpa Smedry said. "That's the real power in this world. That man who held a gun on us earlier he had power over you. Why?"

"Because he was going to shoot me," I said.

"Because you thought thought he could shoot you," Grandpa Smedry said, raising a finger. "But he had no power over me, because I he could shoot you," Grandpa Smedry said, raising a finger. "But he had no power over me, because I knew knew that he couldn't hurt me. And when he realized that..." that he couldn't hurt me. And when he realized that..."

"He ran away," I said slowly.

"Information. The Librarians control the information information in this city in this whole country. They control what gets read, what gets seen, and what gets learned. Because of that, they have power. Well, we're going to break that power, you and I. But first, we need those sands." in this city in this whole country. They control what gets read, what gets seen, and what gets learned. Because of that, they have power. Well, we're going to break that power, you and I. But first, we need those sands."

"Grandpa," I said. "You have to have some some kind of idea what the sands do. You came to get them from me, after all. Didn't you have a plan to use them?" kind of idea what the sands do. You came to get them from me, after all. Didn't you have a plan to use them?"

"Pestering Pullmans, of course I did! I was going to smelt them into Lenses, just like the Librarians are probably doing now. Your father, lad he was a sandhunter. He spent all his time searching out new and powerful types of sand, gathering the grains together, crafting Lenses like n.o.body had seen before. The Sands of Ras.h.i.+d were he crowning achievement. His greatest discovery." Grandpa Smedry's voice grew even quieter. "He was convinced they had something to do with where the Smedry family gained its Talents in the first place. The Sands of Ras.h.i.+d are a key, somehow, to understanding the power and origin or our entire family. Can you understand, perhaps, why the Librarians might want them?"

I nodded slowly. "The Talents."

"Indeed, lad. The Talents. If they could find a way to arm their agents with Talents like ours, then the Free Kingdoms could very well be doomed. Smedry powers are a large part of what has kept the Librarians at bay for so long. But we're losing. The land you call Australia was lost to us only a few decades back absorbed and added to the Hushlands. Now Sing's homeland has almost fallen. They've already taken some of the outlying Mokian islands the places you call Hawaii, Tonga, Samoa and added them to the Hushlands. I fear it will only be a few years before Mokia itself falls."

He paused, then shook his head, looking just a little bit distant as he continued. "Either the Free Kingdoms are going to fall and everything will become Hushlands or we're going to find a way to break the Librarians' power. The Smedry Talents, and the secrets these sands will reveal, are key to the next stage of the war. Things are changing... things have have to change. We can't just keep fighting and losing ground. That's why your father spent so much of his life gathering those sands. He felt it was time to go on the offensive." to change. We can't just keep fighting and losing ground. That's why your father spent so much of his life gathering those sands. He felt it was time to go on the offensive."

I felt a stab of anxiety, a question surfacing that I wasn't certain I wanted to know the answer to. Finally, I couldn't keep it down. "Is he still alive, Grandpa?"

"I don't know," he said, looking back at me. "I honestly don't know."

The comment hung in the air. Grandpa Smedry placed a hand on my shoulder. "Alive or not, Attica Smedry was a great man, Alcatraz. An amazing man. And he, like you, was no warrior. We are Oculators. Our weapon is information information. Keep your eyes, and your mind, open. You'll do just fine."

I nodded slowly.

"Good lad, good lad. Ah, here's Quentin."

The short, tuxedo-wearing man slipped quickly out of the library's front doors. "Five Librarians in the main lobby," he said quietly. "Three behind the checkout desk, two in the stacks. Their patterns are right on schedule with what we've seen from them before. The entrance to the employee corridors is on the far south side. It isn't guarded right now, though a Librarian pa.s.ses to check on it every few minutes or so."

"All right, then," Grandpa Smedry said. "In we go!"

Chapter 7

I seem to recall that last year a Free Kingdoms biographer wrote an article claiming I had spent my childhood performing a "deep infiltration" of Library lands. I guess in his mind, playing video games counted as a "deep infiltration."

I hope you Free Kingdomers aren't too too put out to discover that dragons didn't come and bow to me at my birth. I wasn't tutored by the spirits of my dead Smedry ancestors, nor did I kill my first Librarian by slitting his throat with his own library card. put out to discover that dragons didn't come and bow to me at my birth. I wasn't tutored by the spirits of my dead Smedry ancestors, nor did I kill my first Librarian by slitting his throat with his own library card.

This is the real me, the troubled boy who grew into an even more troubled young man. Now, I'm not a terrible person. I'm just not a particularly nice one either. If you'd been tied to altars, nearly eaten by walking romance novels, and thrown off a gla.s.s pillar taller than Mt. Everest, you might have turned out a little like me yourself.

Sing tripped.

Now, I've seen a lot of people trip in my lifetime. I've seen people stumble, tumble, and misstep. I once saw my foster brother fall down the stairs (not my fault) and I also saw a local bully belly flop when his diving board broke beneath him (I plead the Fifth on that one).

I have never, however, seen a trip quite so... well executed as the one Sing performed in the library lobby that day. The hefty Mokian quite convincingly stumbled on the welcome mat just inside the doors. He cried out, hopping on one foot a teetering, lumbering mound with the kinetic energy of a collapsing building.

People scattered. Children cried, clutching picture books about aardvarks in their terrified fingers. A Librarian raised her hand in warning.

With a weird mixture of skillful grace and a mad lack of control, Sing fell over a comfortable reading chair and collided with a ma.s.sive bookshelf. Those shelves you may know are usually bolted to the floor. That didn't matter. When confronted with a three-hundred-and-fifty-pound Mokian missile, iron bends.

And the bookshelf fell.

Books flew in the air. Pages fluttered. Metal groaned.

"Now's our chance," Grandpa Smedry said. He dashed forward, just one more body in the flurry of lobby activity.

The rest of us followed, scooting past the horrified Librarians. Grandpa Smedry led us behind the children's section, through the media section, and to a pair of shabby doors at the back marked EMPLOYEES ONLY EMPLOYEES ONLY.

"Put your Oculator's Lenses back on, lad," Grandpa Smedry said, sliding on his reddish pair.

I did so as well, and through those Lenses I could see a certain faint glow around the doors. Not a white or black glow, like I'd seen before. But instead... a bluish one. The power was focused on a square in the wall. On closer inspection, I could see that that section of the wall was inset with a small square of gla.s.s.

"A Hushlander handprint scanner," Grandpa Smedry said. "Kind of like Recognizer's Gla.s.s. How quaint. All right lad, it's your turn."

I gulped quietly, feeling nervous both because of the Librarians so near and because everyone was counting on me. I reached out and pressed my hand against the door. There was a hum from the gla.s.s panel, but I ignored it. Instead I focused on myself.

I'd always known, instinctively, about my power. I'd always had it, but I'd rarely tried to control it specifically. Now I focused on it, and I felt a tingle like the shock that comes from touching a battery to your tongue pulse out of my chest and down my arm.

There was a crack from the door as the lock snapped. "Masterfully done, lad!" Grand Smedry said. "Masterfully done indeed."

I shrugged, feeling proud. "Doors have always been my specialty."

Quentin quickly pushed open the door and waved everyone through. Grandpa Smedry's eyes twinkled as he pa.s.sed me. "I've always always wanted to do this," he whispered. wanted to do this," he whispered.

I could hear Bastille grumbling something under her breath as she joined us in the hallway, Sing's bag of guns slung over her shoulder. Quentin held the door open for a moment longer, and finally a puffing Sing rounded the bookshelves and joined us.

"Sorry," he said. "One of the female patrons insisted on wrapping my ankle for me." Indeed, his sandal-shod right foot now bore a support bandage.

Quentin closed the door, then checked the handle, twisting it a few times. "Coconuts, the pain don't hurt," he said, then paused. "Sorry," he said, flus.h.i.+ng. "Sometimes the gibberish comes out when I don't want it to. Anyway, the lock is still broken it will be suspicious next time someone comes through here."

"Can't be helped," Grandpa Smedry said, pulling out what appeared to be two small hourgla.s.ses. He gave them each a tap, and the sand started flowing. He handed one to me. The sand continued to flow at the same rate no matter which way I turned the device. Nifty, Nifty, I thought. I'd always wanted a magical hourgla.s.s. I thought. I'd always wanted a magical hourgla.s.s.

Well, not really. But if I'd known known that there were such things as magical hourgla.s.ses, I'd have wanted one. Who wouldn't? I should note, however, that the Free Kingdomers would be offended by my calling the hourgla.s.s magical. They have very strange feelings on what counts as magical and what doesn't. For instance, Oculatory powers and Smedry Talents are considered a form of magic to most Free Kingdomers, since they are things that can only be performed or used by a few select people. The hourgla.s.ses, like the silimatic cars, Sing's gla.s.ses, or Bastille's jacket, can be used by anyone. That makes those things "technology" in Free Kingdomer speak. that there were such things as magical hourgla.s.ses, I'd have wanted one. Who wouldn't? I should note, however, that the Free Kingdomers would be offended by my calling the hourgla.s.s magical. They have very strange feelings on what counts as magical and what doesn't. For instance, Oculatory powers and Smedry Talents are considered a form of magic to most Free Kingdomers, since they are things that can only be performed or used by a few select people. The hourgla.s.ses, like the silimatic cars, Sing's gla.s.ses, or Bastille's jacket, can be used by anyone. That makes those things "technology" in Free Kingdomer speak.

It's confusing, I know. However, you're probably smart enough to figure it out. And if you aren't, then I shall likely call you an insulting name. (Wait for Chapter Fifteen.) "We'll meet here in one hour," Grandpa Smedry said. "Any longer than that, and we'll be getting close to closing time. When that happens, all those Librarians out on patrol will return to check in and we'll be in serious trouble. Quentin is with me Sing and Bastille, go with Alcatraz."

"But " Bastille said.

"No," Grandpa Smedry interrupted. "You're going with him, Bastille. I order you to."

"I'm your your Crystin," she objected. Crystin," she objected.

"True," Grandpa Smedry said. "But you're sworn to protect all all Smedrys, especially Oculators. The lad will need your help more than I will." Smedrys, especially Oculators. The lad will need your help more than I will."

Bastille huffed quietly but made no further objections. As for myself, I wasn't really sure whether to be annoyed or glad.

"You three inspect this floor, then move up to the second one," Grandpa Smedry said quietly. "Quentin and I will take the top floor."

"But," Bastille said, "that's where the Dark Oculator is!"