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“How crazy?”
“Way crazy.”
“I’m sold. What is it?”
“I need you to dive down the hole we made into the Highbrary,” I said. “Himalaya and Folsom are in here with a team of soldiers, and they’re trapped. I want you to land Penguinator, pick them up, then escape.”
“You’re right,” he said. “That is crazy. I’ll do it.”
“Once they’re aboard, retreat.”
“And you?”
“I’ve got another way out,” I lied.
I didn’t want more people dying because of the stupid things I’d said to the monarchs. Grandpa, Dif, and I would have to find our own way out. Smedrys always escaped from these kinds of scrapes, right?
“Any news on bringing the Talents back?” Kaz asked.
“Not yet.”
“Pity. I keep feeling like I can almost get my Talent working.…” He signed off, and I texted him Himalaya’s number, then sent a text to Himalaya too, telling her to prepare for Kaz’s arrival. Using technology again was pretty weird; I kept expecting the phone to melt in my fingers or talk back to me or something.
My mother and Dif slowed ahead of me. Could they power glass too? I wanted to test the theory, but I dithered, wondering what would happen if I gave Mother this information.
The authenticator, I thought. It was going haywire in her hands, without me touching it. She might be interfering with the glass that runs it.
More questions. Feeling exhausted and confused, I joined the other two at a set of metal doors. The lights on the sides of the entrance glowed green. We could enter.
If we really wanted to. That was questionable, since as the doors opened, I could see that most of the floor inside was missing.
Yes, missing. The only thing resembling a floor was the long walkway leading from our doorway to a platform in the center of the room. That platform had a hut on it, like the archives out in the main chamber. I could see bookshelves within.
Other than that, the room was a pit. A familiar wub-wub-wub came from below. There was no ceiling, just a long dark opening like there had been in the other ventilation shaft. Wind rushed from the open tunnel above, getting sucked downward by those fans to be pushed throughout the entire Highbrary.
“Fans,” I said. “They built the Forgotten Language archive above a pit of doom?”
“Librarians,” my mother said, “share more with Smedrys than either would like to admit. Both will bend over backward to accommodate sheer dramatic effect.”
I shivered, but there was nothing to do but cross that walkway. At least it looked more sturdy than the rope bridge had been. My mother led, with me next, and Dif in the rear. There weren’t any handrails, and though the walkway was a good four or five feet wide, I felt like it was a tightrope—wind tossing my hair and clothing, each step threatening to topple me down into those fan blades.
Never was I so happy to enter a library as I was to step off that walkway and into the room of that little hut, where—fortunately—the wind was far less severe. The place seemed empty of people. It was lit by electric lights on the walls and stocked with hundreds of texts in the Forgotten Language, many of which were scrolls.
“Empty,” Dif said, hands on his hips. “Weren’t we supposed to find your father here?”
“Oh, he’s here,” I said.
“Where?” my mother asked.
“He has Disguiser’s Lenses on.”
“Haven’t you been paying attention?” my mother demanded. “The Highbrary has precautions in place against things like that. Anyone using Lenses to imitate someone else will glow.”
“Oh, I know,” I said. “Attica is counting on that, as it helps the disguise. Isn’t that right, Father?”
Something moved beside a bookcase, coming out from a hiding place. A ghostly figure, glowing, spectral clothing hanging in tatters. It was wearing a monocle.
One of the undead Curators, the Librarians who haunted Alexandria. Or someone dressed like one.
“How did you guess?” the ghost said, using my father’s voice.
Chapter
18
“The Librarians are afraid of a ghost,” I said to him. “Specifically one of the Alexandrian types. And who better to imitate one of them than the only man who joined their ranks, then escaped? Besides, if Librarian defenses are going to make you glow, why not incorporate that into your disguise?” I shrugged. Made sense to me.
“Well done,” my father said, the ghostly image vanishing—replaced by his normal form. Attica Smedry was a tall, handsome man with too much smile to him. He wore a pair of Lenses and had on a stylish Free Kingdoms outfit that—in my opinion—looked a lot like pajamas.
When my father and I had been together in Nalhalla, he’d been quick to endear himself to everyone he considered important.
I hadn’t been included.
Perhaps that’s the fable of these books. You, reader, may have a beef* with your parents, but chances are they’re not anywhere near as bad as mine. At least your mother doesn’t belong to an evil cult that has conquered half the world, and at least your father isn’t inadvertently trying to destroy the other half.
“It … is a good disguise, Attica,” my mother said. “Librarians who saw it would wonder, ‘Why is one of the Curators of Alexandria floating around our halls?’ instead of wondering if you’re a spy. They spent their time trying to solve the wrong puzzle. By standing out, your true motives became invisible. It’s brilliant, as usual.”
“Thank you,” my father said.
Mother reached into the pocket of her jacket and took out a handgun.
“Mother!” I cried out. “The rules! Your promise!”
“Promises mean nothing,” she said, “when the fate of a planet is on the line.”
“This is an old argument, Shasta,” my father said, raising his hands to the sides. “One I’m bored of hearing. It won’t destroy the world; it will simply destroy the Librarians.”
“Smedry Talents?” she said. “In the hands of everyone?”
“Equality,” my father said.
“Fame for you.”
“Don’t be petty,” my father snapped. “This will break Biblioden’s control. The Librarians want to pretend the world is ‘normal’ and ‘straightforward’? They want to ignore the Free Kingdoms? Well, let them ignore this. A Talent for every person!”
“Insanity.”
“Inevitability,” he said. “You can’t stop it, not even if you kill me. Someone will crack this eventually. It might as well be me.”
“It always comes back to your ego,” she said, raising the gun. I felt a spike of alarm. “Everything always comes down to that.”
My father met her eyes. “He’s returned, you know.”
My mother didn’t speak.
“Biblioden,” my father said. “He has reappeared. I suspect he knew his plots needed centuries to grow, and so he found a way to put himself to sleep and wait, giving his kingdom time to expand. Now that the victory is within his grasp—the end of the Free Kingdoms—he has returned to deliver the killing blow. Well, I’ll give the people a weapon to fight against him. Let’s see how the Librarians do when every person they try to dominate has the Breaking Talent!”
“You’re mad,” my mother whispered. Though she held the gun steady, I could see a tear on her cheek.
“Mother!” I repeated. “Mother!”
She glanced at me.
“You promised,” I said. “I talk to him first.”
“He won’t change, Alcatraz. He never changes.”
“But do you really want to pull that trigger without knowing?” I asked. “Without giving him one more chance?”
My mother hesitated, then sighed and lowered her gun.
A beam of light shot from my father’s right eye and smashed into her, tossing her backward. She hit the floor, unconscious, and the gun skidded from her fingers toward the doorway.
“Mother!” I screamed, rushing to her side.
“Oh, don’t worry,” my father said, chuckling. “It’s only a Concussor’s Lens. She’ll wake up with a headache in a few hours, knowing I bested her yet again. She’s used to that by now, I do suspect.”
