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Grandpa Smedry shook his head. “Those sands will be forged into Lenses before the day is out. Our only chance—the world’s only chance—is to get them before that happens.”
I nodded slowly. “Then I’m going,” I said. “You can’t leave me behind.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Grandpa Smedry said. Then he glanced up at the wall where I had broken it. “You do that?”
I nodded again.
“Nagging Nixes! You really do have quite the skill for breaking things,” Grandpa Smedry said. “Must have been hard for you when you were younger.”
I shrugged.
“What kinds of things can you break?” Grandpa Smedry asked.
“All kinds of things,” I said. “Doors, electronics, tables. Once I broke a chicken.”
“A chicken?”
I nodded. “It was on a field trip. I got … kind of frustrated, and I picked up a chicken. When I put it down, it immediately lost all of its feathers, and from then on refused to eat anything but cat food.”
“Breaking living things…” Grandpa Smedry mumbled to himself. “Extraordinary. Untamed, yes, but extraordinary nonetheless…”
I pointed at the building, hoping to change the subject. “It’s a glass box.”
“Yes,” Grandpa Smedry said. “Expander’s Glass—if you make space inside of it, you can push out the walls inside without pushing out the walls on the outside.”
“That’s impossible. It disobeys the laws of physics.” (We Hushlanders pay a lot of attention to physics.)
“That’s just Librarian talk,” Grandpa Smedry said. “You’ve got a lot to learn, lad. Come on, we need to get moving. We’re late!”
I allowed myself to be led away, past the three bullet holes in the siding. “They missed,” I said, almost to myself. “It’s a good thing that man had such bad aim.”
Grandpa Smedry laughed. “Bad aim! He didn’t have a chance of hitting me. I arrived late to every shot. Your Talent can do some great things, my boy, but it’s not the only powerful ability around! I’ve been arriving late to my own death since before you were born. In fact, once I was so late to an appointment that I got there before I left!”
I paused, trying to work through that last statement, but Grandpa Smedry waved me on. We rounded the building. Quentin and Sing stood with one of the station attendants, talking quietly. Sing had a good dozen different guns strapped to his body. He wore two holsters on each leg, one holster around each upper arm, and one underneath each arm. These were complemented by a couple of Uzis tucked into his sash, and what looked like a shotgun tied to his back as if it were a sword.
“Oh, dear,” Grandpa Smedry said. “He’s not supposed to show them off like that, is he?”
“Um, no,” I said.
“Could we peace bond them, you think?”
“I don’t know what that is,” I said, “but I doubt it would help.” Still, after getting shot at, the sight of Sing with all those weapons did make me feel a little more comfortable. Until I realized that, if we were going to be bringing an arsenal like that, what would our enemies have?
“Ah, well,” Grandpa Smedry said. “I already told him he could bring them. We can hide them in a bag or something. They’re really not that dangerous—it’s not like he’s got a sword or something. Anyway, we need to get moving, we’re—”
“—late,” I said. “Yes, I know.”
“Good, then let’s—”
At this point, you should be very annoyed with people getting interrupted mid-sentence. I assure you that I feel the same way. In fact, I think—
A silver sports car screeched into the parking lot. Its windows were tinted the deepest black—even the windshield—and it had a sleek, ominous design, the make and model of which I couldn’t quite place. It was like every spy car I’d ever seen melded into one.
The door burst open, and a girl—about my age—jumped out. Her hair was silvery, matching the car’s paint, and she wore fashionable black slacks and silver jacket, and carried a black handbag.
She appeared to be very, very angry.
“Smedry!” she snapped, swatting her purse at Sing as he moved too slowly to get out of her way.
“What?” I asked, jumping back slightly.
“Not you, lad,” Grandpa Smedry said with a sigh. “She means me.”
“What?” I asked. “What did you do?”
“Nothing much,” Grandpa Smedry said. “I just kind of left her behind. That’s Bastille, lad. She’s our team’s knight.”
If I’d had any sense, I’d have run away right then.
Chapter
5
At this point, perhaps you Hushlanders are beginning to doubt the truth of this narrative. You have seen several odd and inexplicable things happen. (Though let me warn you that the story so far has actually been quite tame. Just wait until we get to the part with the talking dinosaurs.) Some readers might even think that I’m making this story up. You might think that everything in this book is dreamy silliness.
Nothing could be further from the truth.
This book is serious. Terribly serious. Your skepticism results from a lifetime of training in the Librarians’ school system, where you were taught all kinds of lies. Indeed, you’d probably never even heard of the Smedrys, despite the fact that they are the most famous family of Oculators in the entire world. In most parts of the Free Kingdoms, being a Smedry is considered equivalent to being nobility.
(If you wish to perform a fun test, next time you are in history class, ask your teacher about the Smedrys. If your teacher is a Librarian spy, he or she will get red-faced and give you a detention. If, on the other hand, your teacher is innocent, he or she will simply be confused, then likely give you a detention.)
Remember, despite the fact that this book is being sold as a “fantasy” novel, you must take all of the things it says extremely seriously, as they are quite important, are in no way silly, and always make sense.
Rutabaga.
“That is a knight?” I asked, pointing at the silver-haired girl.
“Unfortunately,” Grandpa Smedry said.
“But, she’s a girl!” I said.
“Yes,” Grandpa Smedry said. “And a very dangerous one, I might add. She was sent to protect me.”
“Sent?” I said. “Who sent her, then?” And is she supposed to protect you from Librarians, or from yourself?
Bastille stalked right up to Grandpa Smedry, placed her hands on her hips, and glared at him. “I’d stab you with something if I didn’t know that you’d arrive too late to get hurt.”
“Bastille, my dear,” Grandpa Smedry said. “How pleasant. Of course I didn’t mean to leave you behind. You see, I was running late, and I needed to go—”
Bastille held up a hand to silence Grandpa, then glared at me. “Who is he?”
“My grandson,” Grandpa Smedry said. “Alcatraz.”
“Another Smedry?” she asked. “I have to try to protect four of you now?”
“Bastille, dear,” Grandpa Smedry said. “No need to get upset. He won’t be much trouble. Will you, Alcatraz?”
“Uh … no,” I said. That was, of course, an absolute lie. But would you have said anything different?
Bastille narrowed her eyes. “Somehow I doubt that. What are you planning, old man?”
“Nothing to worry about,” Grandpa Smedry said. “Just a little infiltration.”
“Of?” Bastille asked.
“The downtown library,” Grandpa Smedry said, then smiled innocently.
“What?” Bastille said. “Honestly, can’t I even leave you alone for half a day? Shattering Glass! What would make you want to infiltrate that place?”
“They have the Sands of Rashid,” Grandpa Smedry said.
“So? We’ve got plenty of sand.”
“These sands are very important,” Grandpa Smedry said. “It’s an Oculator sort of thing.”
Bastille’s expression darkened a bit at that comment. She threw her hands int
o the air. “Whatever,” she said. “I assume we’re late.”
“Very,” Grandpa Smedry said.
“Fine.” She stabbed a finger at me; I barely suppressed a tense jump. “You, get in my car. You can fill me in on the mission. We’ll meet you there, old man.”
“Lovely,” Grandpa Smedry said, looking relieved.
“I—” I began.
“Must I remind you, Alcatraz,” Grandpa Smedry said, “that you shouldn’t swear? Now, we’re late! Get moving!”
I paused. “Swear?” I said. However, my confusion gave Grandpa Smedry a perfect chance to escape, and I caught sight of the man’s eyes twinkling as he jumped into his car, Quentin and Sing joining him.
