AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I blinked in surprise. It hadn't really hurt, but it had been unexpected. "What was that?" I asked.
"I smacked you,” said Grandpa Smedry. Then, in a slightly lower tone, he added, "It's an old family remedy."
"For what?"
"Being a nigglenut," said Grandpa Smedry. He sighed, sitting down on the hallway carpeting. "Sit down, lad."
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!"
CHAPTER 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.
