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HOPEFULLY, THIS TIME THERE WOULD BE FEWER LIBRARIAN HIJINKS. (THOSE WACKY LIBRARIANS AND THEIR HIJINKS.)
THERE WAS A LARGE NUMBER OF REPORTER TYPES WAITING IN THE REACHES OF THE ROOM, ANTICIPATING MY FATHER’S ANNOUNCEMENT. AS I’D COME TO LEARN, ANYTHING INVOLVING THE SMEDRY FAMILY WAS NEWS TO THE FREE KINGDOMERS. THIS NEWS, HOWEVER, WAS EVEN MORE IMPORTANT.
THE LAST TIME MY FATHER HAD HELD A SESSION LIKE THIS, HE’D ANNOUNCED THAT HE HAD DISCOVERED A WAY TO COLLECT THE SANDS OF RASHID. THE TIME BEFORE THAT, HE’D EXPLAINED THAT HE’D BROKEN THE SECRET OF TRANSPORTER’S GLASS. PEOPLE WERE EXPECTING A LOT FROM THIS SPEECH.
I COULDN’T HELP BUT FEEL THAT IT WAS ALL JUST A LITTLE . . . BAD FOR MY FATHER’S EGO. I MEAN, A CIRCUS? WHO GETS A CIRCUS THROWN FOR THEM?
I GLANCED AT BASTILLE. “YOU DEALT WITH THIS KIND OF STUFF MOST OF YOUR CHILDHOOD, DIDN’T YOU?”
“THIS KIND OF STUFF?” SHE ASKED.
“FAME. NOTORIETY. PEOPLE PAYING ATTENTION TO EVERYTHING YOU DO.”
SHE NODDED.
“SO HOW DID YOU DEAL WITH IT?” I ASKED. “AND NOT LET IT RUIN YOU?”
“HOW DO YOU KNOW IT DIDN’T RUIN ME?” SHE ASKED. “AREN’T PRINCESSES SUPPOSED TO BE NICE AND SWEET AND STUFF LIKE THAT? WEAR PINK DRESSES AND TIARAS?”
“WELL . . .”
“PINK DRESSES,” BASTILLE SAID, HER EYES NARROWING. “SOMEONE GAVE ME A PINK DRESS ONCE. I BURNED IT.”
AH, I THOUGHT. THAT’S RIGHT; I FORGOT. BASTILLE GOT AROUND FAME’S TOUCH BY BEING A FREAKING PSYCHOPATH.
“YOU’LL LEARN, LAD,” GRANDPA SMEDRY SAID FROM BEHIND ME. “IT MIGHT TAKE SOME TIME, BUT YOU’LL FIGURE IT OUT.”
“MY FATHER NEVER DID,” I SAID.
GRANDPA SMEDRY HESITATED. “OH, WELL, I DON’T KNOW ABOUT THAT. I THINK HE DID, FOR A WHILE. BACK AROUND THE TIME HE GOT MARRIED. I JUST THINK HE FORGOT.”
AROUND THE TIME HE GOT MARRIED. THE WORDS MADE ME THINK OF FOLSOM AND HIMALAYA. WE’D SAVED THEM SEATS, BUT THEY WERE LATE. AS I LOOKED AROUND, I CAUGHT A GLANCE OF THEM WORKING THEIR WAY THROUGH THE CROWD. GRANDPA SMEDRY WAVED ENTHUSIASTICALLY, THOUGH THEY’D OBVIOUSLY ALREADY SEEN US.
BUT THEN, THAT’S GRANDPA.
“SORRY,” FOLSOM SAID AS HE AND HIS NEW WIFE SEATED THEMSELVES. “GETTING SOME LAST-MINUTE PACKING DONE.”
“YOU STILL DETERMINED TO GO THROUGH WITH THIS?” GRANDPA SMEDRY ASKED.
HIMALAYA NODDED. “WE’RE MOVING TO THE HUSHLANDS. I THINK . . . WELL, THERE ISN’T MUCH I CAN DO FOR MY FELLOW LIBRARIANS HERE.”
“WE’LL START AN UNDERGROUND RESISTANCE FOR GOOD LIBRARIANS,” FOLSOM SAID.
“LYBRIARIANS,” HIMALAYA SAID. “I’VE ALREADY BEGUN WORKING ON A PAMPHLET!”
SHE PULLED OUT A SHEET OF PAPER. TEN STEPS TO BEING LESS EVIL, IT READ. A HELPFUL GUIDE FOR THOSE WHO WANT TO TAKE THE “LIE” OUT OF “LIEBRARIAN.”
“THAT’S . . . JUST GREAT,” I SAID. I WASN’T CERTAIN HOW ELSE TO RESPOND. FORTUNATELY FOR ME, MY FATHER CHOSE THAT MOMENT TO MAKE HIS ENTRANCE – WHICH WAS PARTICULARLY GOOD, SINCE THIS SCENE WAS STARTING TO FEEL A LITTLE LONG ANYWAY.
THE MONARCHS SAT BEHIND A LONG TABLE FACING A RAISED PODIUM. WE ALL GREW QUIET AS MY FATHER APPROACHED, WEARING DARK ROBES TO MARK HIM AS A SCIENTIST. THE CROWD HUSHED.
“AS YOU MAY HAVE HEARD,” HE SAID, HIS VOICE CARRYING THROUGH THE ROOM, “I HAVE RECENTLY RETURNED FROM THE LIBRARY OF ALEXANDRIA. I SPENT SOME TIME AS A CURATOR, ESCAPING THEIR CLUTCHES WITH MY SOUL INTACT BY THE MEANS OF SOME CLEVER PLANNING.”
“YEAH,” BASTILLE MUTTERED, “CLEVER PLANNING, AND SOME UNDESERVED HELP.” SING, WHO SAT IN FRONT OF US, GAVE HER A DISAPPROVING LOOK.
“THE PURPOSE OF ALL THIS,” MY FATHER CONTINUED, “WAS TO GAIN ACCESS TO THE FABLED TEXTS COLLECTED AND CONTROLLED BY THE CURATORS OF ALEXANDRIA. HAVING MANAGED TO CREATE A PAIR OF TRANSLATOR’S LENSES FROM THE SANDS OF RASHID –“
THIS CAUSED A RIPPLE OF DISCUSSION IN THE CROWD.
“– I WAS ABLE TO READ TEXTS IN THE FORGOTTEN LANGUAGE,” MY FATHER CONTINUED. “I WAS TAKEN BY THE CURATORS AND TRANSFORMED INTO ONE OF THEM, BUT STILL RETAINED ENOUGH FREE WILL TO SNEAK THE LENSES FROM MY POSSESSIONS AND USE THEM TO READ. THIS ALLOWED ME TO SPEND WEEKS STUDYING THE MOST VALUABLE CONTENTS OF THE LIBRARY.”
HE STOPPED, LEANING FORWARD ON THE PODIUM, SMILING WINNINGLY. HE CERTAINLY DID HAVE A CHARM ABOUT HIM, WHEN HE WANTED TO IMPRESS PEOPLE.
IN THAT MOMENT, LOOKING AT THAT SMILE, I COULD SWEAR THAT I’D SEEN HIM SOMEWHERE, LONG BEFORE MY VISIT TO THE LIBRARY OF ALEXANDRIA.
“WHAT I DID,” MY FATHER CONTINUED, WAS DANGEROUS; SOME MAY EVEN CALL IT BRASH. I COULDN’T KNOW THAT I’D HAVE ENOUGH FREEDOM AS A CURATOR TO STUDY THE TEXTS, NOR COULD I COUNT ON THE FACT THAT I’D BE ABLE TO USE MY LENSES TO READ THE FORGOTTEN LANGUAGE.”
HE PAUSED FOR DRAMATIC EFFECT. “BUT I DID IT ANYWAY. FOR THAT IS THE SMEDRY WAY.”
“HE STOLE THAT LINE FROM ME, BY THE WAY,” GRANDPA SMEDRY WHISPERED TO US.
MY FATHER CONTINUED. “I’VE SPENT THE LAST TWO WEEKS WRITING DOWN THE THINGS I MEMORIZED WHILE I WAS A CURATOR. SECRETS LOST IN TIME, MYSTERIES KNOWN ONLY TO THE INCARNA. I’VE ANALYZED THEM, AND AM THE ONLY MAN TO READ AND UNDERSTAND THEIR WORKS FOR OVER TWO MILLENNIA.”
HE LOOKED OVER THE CROWD. “THROUGH THIS,” HE SAID, “I HAVE DISCOVERED THE METHOD BY WHICH THE SMEDRY TALENTS WERE CREATED AND GIVEN TO MY FAMILY.”
WHAT? I THOUGHT, SHOCKED.
“IMPOSSIBLE,” BASTILLE SAID, AND THE CROWD AROUND US BEGAN TO SPEAK ANIMATEDLY.
I GLANCED AT MY GRANDFATHER. THOUGH THE OLD MAN IS USUALLY WACKIER THAN A PENGUIN-WRANGLING EXPEDITION TO FLORIDA, OCCASIONALLY I CATCH A HINT OF WISDOM IN HIS FACE. HE HAS A DEPTH THAT HE DOESN’T OFTEN SHOW.
HE TURNED TOWARD ME, MEETING MY EYES, AND I COULD TELL THAT HE WAS WORRIED. VERY WORRIED.
“I ANTICIPATE GREAT THINGS FROM THIS,” MY FATHER SAID, HUSHING THE CROWD. “WITH A LITTLE MORE RESEARCH, I BELIEVE I CAN DISCOVER HOW TO GIVE TALENTS TO ORDINARY PEOPLE. I IMAGINE A WORLD, NOT SO DISTANT IN THE FUTURE, WHERE EVERYONE HAS A SMEDRY TALENT.”
AND THEN HE WAS DONE. HE RETREATED FROM THE PODIUM, STEPPING DOWN TO SPEAK WITH THE MONARCHS. THE ROOM, OF COURSE, GREW LOUD WITH DISCUSSIONS. I FOUND MYSELF STANDING, PUSHING MY WAY DOWN TO THE FLOOR OF THE ROOM. I APPROACHED THE MONARCHS, AND THE KNIGHTS STANDING GUARD THERE LET ME PASS.
“. . . NEED ACCESS TO THE ROYAL ARCHIVES,” MY FATHER WAS SAYING TO THE MONARCHS.
“NOT A LIBRARY,” I FOUND MYSELF WHISPERING.
MY FATHER DIDN’T NOTICE ME. “THERE ARE SOME BOOKS THERE I BELIEVE WOULD BE OF USE TO MY INVESTIGATIONS, NOW THAT I’VE RECOVERED MY TRANSLATOR’S LENSES. ONE VOLUME, IN PARTICULAR, WAS CONSPICUOUSLY MISSING FROM THE LIBRARY OF ALEXANDRIA – THE CURATORS CLAIMED THEIR COPY HAD BEEN BURNED IN A VERY STRANGE ACCIDENT. FORTUNATELY, I BELIEVE THERE MAY BE ANOTHER ONE HERE.”
“IT’S GONE,” I SAID, MY VOICE SOFT IN THE ROOM’S BUZZING VOICES.
ATTICA TURNED TO ME, AS DID SEVERAL OF THE MONARCHS. “WHAT IS THAT SON?” MY FATHER ASKED.
“DIDN’T YOU PAY ATTENTION AT ALL TO WHAT HAPPENED LAST WEEK?” I DEMANDED. “MOTHER HAS THE BOOK. THE ONE YOU WANT. SHE STOLE IT FROM THE ARCHIVES.”
MY FATHER HESITATED, THEN NODDED TO THE MONARCHS. “EXCUSE US.” HE PULLED ME ASIDE. “NOW, WHAT IS THIS?”
“SHE STOLE IT,” I SAID. “THE BOOK YOU WANT, THE ONE WRITTEN BY THE SCRIBE OF ALCATRAZ THE FIRST. SHE TOOK IT FROM THE ARCHIVES. THAT’S WHAT THE ENTIRE MESS LAST WEEK WAS ABOUT!”
“I THOUGHT THAT WAS AN ASSASSINATION ATTEMPT ON THE MONARCHS,” HE SAID.
“THAT WAS ONLY PART OF IT. I SENT YOU A MESSAGE IN THE MIDDLE OF IT, ASKING YOU TO COME HELP US PROTECT THE ARCHIVES, BUT YOU COMPLETELY IGNORED IT!”
HE WAVED AN INDIFFERENT HAND. “I WAS OCCUPIED WITH GREATER THINGS. YOU MUST BE MISTAKEN – I’LL LOOK THROUGH THE ARCHIVES AND –“
“I LOOKED ALREADY,” I SAID. “I’VE LOOKED AT THE TITLE OF EVERY SINGLE BOOK IN THERE THAT WAS WRITTE
N IN THE FORGOTTEN LANGUAGE. THEY’RE ALL COOKBOOKS OR LEDGERS OR THINGS. EXCEPT THAT ONE MY MOTHER TOOK.”
“AND YOU LET HER STEAL IT?” MY FATHER DEMANDED INDIGNANTLY.
LET HER. I TOOK A DEEP BREATH. (AND, NEXT TIME YOU THINK YOUR PARENTS ARE FRUSTRATING, MIGHT I INVITE YOU TO READ THIS PASSAGE THROUGH ONE MORE TIME?)
