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We passed the lip of the hole and continued on. I threw up my hands in front of my face as we approached the ceiling. With the Lenses no longer jetting, gravity slowed us. We crested the blast a few inches from the ceiling, then began to plummet downward again.
"Now, kick!" Bastille said, twisting and putting both of her feet against my chest.
"Wha –“ I began, but Bastille kicked, throwing me to the side and pushing herself the other direction.
We hit the ground on either side of the pit. I rolled, then came to a rest, staring upward. The room spun around me.
We were free. I sat up, holding my head. Across the pit, Bastille was smiling as she jumped to her feet. “I can’t believe that actually worked!"
"You kicked me!" I said with a groan.
"Well, I owed it to you," she said. "Remember, you kicked me back in the Dragonaut. I didn't want you to feel like I didn't return the feeling."
I grimaced. This, by the way, is a pretty good metaphor for my entire relationship with Bastille. I’m thinking of writing a book on the concept. Kicking Your Friends for Fun and Profit.
Suddenly, something occurred to me. “My Lenses!” They lay in shattered pieces on the ground beside the pit. I'd dropped them as I hit. I stood up and rushed over, but it was no use. There wasn't enough of them left to use.
"Gather up the pieces," Bastille said. "They can be reforged."
I sighed. "Yeah, I suppose. This means we’re going to have to face Kiliman without them."
Bastille fell silent.
I don't have any offensive Lenses, and Bastille’s only got a close-to-broken dagger. How are we going to fight that creature?
I brushed the pieces of glass into a pouch, then put it into one of my Lens Pockets.
"We're free,” Bastille said, "but we still don't really know what to do. In fact, we don't even know how to get to Kiliman.”
"We'll find a way,” I said, standing up.
She looked at me, then – surprisingly – nodded. “All right, then, what do we do?"
"We –“
Suddenly, Australia rushed back into the room. She was puffing from exertion. “All right, I found your rope!"
She held up an empty hand.
"Uh, thanks," I said. "Is the rope imaginary, then?"
"No, silly," she said, laughing. She picked something up between two fingers. "Look!"
"Trip wire," Bastille said.
"Is that what it is?" Australia said. "I just found it on the ground over there."
"And how exactly were you going to use that to get us out of the pit?" I asked. "I doubt it's long enough, and even if it is, it would never have held our weight."
Australia cocked her head. "That's why you wanted rope?"
"Sure," I said. "So that we could climb out of the pit."
"But, you're already out of the pit."
“We are now," I said with exasperation. “But we weren’t at the time. I wanted you to find rope so that we could climb it."
"Oh!" Australia said. “Well, you should have said so, then!"
I stood, stupefied. "You know what, never mind,” I said, taking the length of trip wire. I was about to stuff it in my pocket, then paused, looking at it.
"What?" Bastille asked.
I smiled.
"You have an idea?"
I nodded.
"What is it?"
"Tell you in a minute," I said. "First, we have to figure out how to get to the center of the Library.”
We all looked at one another.
"I've been wandering through the hallways all day,” Australia said. "With those ghost things offering me books at every turn. I keep explaining that I hate reading, but they don't listen. If I hadn't run across your footprints, Alcatraz, I'd still be lost!"
"Footprints!" I said. “Australia, can you see Kaz's footprints?"
“Of course." She tapped the yellow Lenses, my Tracker's Lenses, which she was still wearing.
"Follow them!"
She nodded, then led us from the room. Only a few feet down the hallway, however, she stopped.
"What?" I asked.
"They end here."
His Talent, I realized. It's jumping him about the Library, Ieading him to the center. We'll never be able to track him.
"That's it, then," Bastille said, beginning to sound depressed again. "We'll never get there in time."
"No," I said. "If I'm in charge, then we're not going to give up."
She looked taken aback. Then, she nodded. “All right. What do we do?"
I stood for a moment, thinking. There had to be a way. Information, lad, Grandpa Smedry's voice seemed to return to me. More powerful than any sword or gun . . .
I looked up sharply. "Australia, can you follow my footprints back the way I originally came, before I entered that room with the pit?"
"Sure," she said.
"Do it, then."
She led us through cagelike chambers and corridors. In a few minutes, we left the dungeon section of the Library and entered the section with the bookshelves. The gold bars I'd discarded on the ground proved that we were back where we'd started. I, of course, piled the bars into Bastille's pack.
No, not because of some great plan to use them. I just figured that if I survived all this, I'd want some gold. (I don't know if you realize this, but you can totally buy stuff with it.)
"Great," Bastille said. "We're back here. I don't mean to question you, O Great Leader, but we were lost when we were here too. We still don't know which way to go."
I reached into a pocket, then pulled out the Discerner’s Lenses. I put them on, then looked at the bookshelves. I smiled.
"What?" Bastille asked.
"They hold every book ever written, right?"
"That's what the Curators claim."
“So, they would have gathered them chronologically. When a new book comes out, the Curators get a copy, then put it on their shelves."
"So?"
"That means," I said, "that the newer books are going to be at the outer edges of the Library. The older the books get, the closer we'll get to the center. That's the place where they would have put their first books."
Bastille opened her mouth slightly, then her eyes widened as she understood. “Alcatraz, that's brilliant!"
"Must have been that bump to the head," I said, then pointed down the hallway. "That way. The books get older as they move down the row that direction."
Bastille and Australia nodded, and we were off.
CHAPTER 18
We're almost at the end of the second book. Hopefully, you've enjoyed the ride. I'm certain you know more about the world now than you did when you began.
In fact, you've probably learned all you need to. You know about the Librarian conspiracy, and you know that I'm a liar. Everything I wanted to do has been accomplished. I suppose I can just end the book right here.
Thanks for reading.
The end.
Oh, so that's not good enough for you, eh? Demanding today, are we?
All right, fine. I'll finish it for you. But, not because I'm a nice guy. I'll do it because I can't wait to see the look on your face when Bastille dies. (You didn't forget about that part, did you? I'll bet you think I'm lying. However, I promise you that I'm not. She really dies. You'll see.)
Bastille, Australia, and I raced through the Library hallways. We'd passed through the rooms with books and were up to the ones with scrolls. These too were arranged by age. We were close. I could feel it.
That worried me. Bastille's mother was dying, and Kaz was likely in serious danger. We had little hope in fighting Kiliman. We were outmatched and outmaneuvered, and we were charging right into the enemy's hands.
However, I figured that it wasn't a good idea to explain to the others how bad things seemed. I was determined to keep a "stiff upper lip," even if I didn't really understand what that meant. (Though it does sound vaguely uncomfortable.)
“All right," I said. "We have to beat th
is guy. What are our resources?" That sounded like the kind of thing a leader would say.
"One cracked dagger," Bastille said. "Probably won't survive another hit from those Frostbringer's Lenses."
