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“He’s a loon,” Kaz said.
“He’s family.”
“So is Shasta, Pop.”
My mother sniffed from the back of the room, turning a page in another book she’d pulled out from somewhere.
“How’s he related?” I asked. I still hadn’t quite figured out the family tree.
“My uncle’s son,” Grandpa said. “His family was part of a deep infiltration in the Hushlands for decades; the Librarians eventually found them, but he escaped. He’s got a powerful Talent—or rather he had one, before your intervention. Look, Kaz, Dif has spent a lifetime in the Hushlands. And he’s nearby, at the Worldspire, doing research.”
“I know,” Kaz grumbled. “He has this annoying habit of calling me and telling me all about what he’s had for breakfast.”
“Excellent!” Grandpa said. “We’ll swing by and pick him up.”
The Worldspire? I slipped into Grandpa’s seat as he wandered off to find the facilities.* The Worldspire was where Crystin knights, like Bastille and Draulin, got the gemstones that gave them superhuman powers. The things were stuck in the back of their necks and did some other weird stuff too, connecting them all together. I’m not sure exactly what it all means—the third book was a bit confusing to me in that regard.
Kaz, muttering under his breath, used the dashboard to give this Dif fellow a call. The voice on the other side was energetic and high-pitched. Kaz had the volume way down, so I couldn’t hear much, but it seemed like Dif was very excited to be invited on the mission.
Reluctantly, Kaz adjusted the controls and turned Penguinator’s flight path a few degrees. Grandpa, who had returned by this point, patted him on the shoulder. “I’m going to go get our Lenses ready,” he then said to me. “I’ve packed quite the arsenal for us. Come down to my room once you’ve met Cousin Dif, and I can go over them for you.”
It wasn’t long before I caught sight of the Worldspire jutting up out of the ocean ahead. When I’d first seen it months ago, it had been very distant. I’d thought it looked like a tower, and I was close to right—but it was more an enormous crystal. It reminded me of Bastille’s sword, except in the shape of a very thin mountain.
I hadn’t expected it to be populated, but as we drew closer I could see a city built at its base and wooden scaffolding wrapping up, up, up and around the entire thing.
“For studying it?” I asked, pointing.
Kaz nodded. “The Worldspire is one of the world’s great mysteries. Though the Crystin don’t talk about their stones much, their powers ultimately come from a chunk of that spire. You know that odd ringing you get in your ears sometimes?”
“Yeah?”
“That happens when someone taps the Worldspire on its tip. Tap it, and a random number of people all throughout the world will get a ringing sensation.”
“Huh.”
“That’s not the only thing,” Kaz said. “Cold chills? Because a wind blows on the Worldspire. Unexplained headache? Something struck the spire. What happens to the spire is transferred to a random number of people, different ones each time.”
“That’s … kind of creepy.”
“Well, it’s certainly odd. We’re all connected somehow, and that crystal is in the center of it.”
Now, if you’ve been paying attention to what I’ve been writing in these books up until this point, you might have recognized that conversation as foreshadowing. Well done! Except you’re wrong.
Oh, this would be foreshadowing if my autobiography were going to go beyond this final book. But it’s not.* Besides, you don’t need me to tell you what happened there. Even in the Hushlands, events involving the Worldspire would have been hard to ignore. Go ask your parents. They lived through it.
If, when you ask them, your parents act like they don’t know what you’re talking about, one of three things is going on.
1. Your parents are Librarian spies. (Whereupon you should eat some of their cookies as a sign of rebellion against Librarian oppression.)
2. Your parents had their minds wiped by a Librarian memory-erasing toad. (The most likely answer. This often leaves the person a little absentminded as a side effect, so you should be able to swipe a cookie without them noticing.)
3. Your parents are just dumb. (If that’s the case, have a cookie to console yourself. I’m sure it’s not hereditary or anything. Also, stop chewing on that phone case. It’s not a cookie.)
Penguinator approached the Worldspire. And didn’t slow down.
“Uh…” I said. I hadn’t realized exactly how fast we were going. “Shouldn’t we…”
“In too much of a hurry to stop,” Kaz said, pulling a glass lever. “See that cage over there?”
A large metal cage had been set out, hanging from a pole that extended from some scaffolding around the Worldspire. I barely had time to spot it before we zipped past. Penguinator shook. A second later the Worldspire was a large shadow retreating behind us, visible reflected through the glass walls.
“I extended a hook on a rope,” Kaz explained, moving the lever again. “Hit the cage and pulled it along. Maybe.”
“I’m not even going to ask about things like sudden acceleration, whiplash, or the laws of conservation of momentum.”
“Good,” Kaz said. “You’re learning.”
Free Kingdomers have this habit of pretending the laws of physics don’t exist. For the most part it works, as evidenced by the arrival of Dif. He burst into the cockpit, bucktoothed and grinning, a man in his fifties wearing suspenders, a bow tie, and enough plaid to outfit an entire Scottish clan.*
“An infiltration!” Dif exclaimed. “With Kaz and Leavenworth, two of my favorite people!” He whooped, then ran over and hugged Kaz around the back of the chair.
Kaz groaned softly; he looked like he’d eaten a fish stick.
“And Cousin Alcatraz himself!” Dif said, standing upright and spinning on me. I raised my hands to prevent a hug.
I got one anyway.
“Uh, hi,” I said from the embrace. “What’s your Talent, Cousin Dif?” I’d learned this was the proper way to introduce oneself to a member of the family.
I expected something relating to making people uncomfortable, like Aunt Pattywagon. Instead, Dif pulled back and, with a big grin, said, “I’m really forgetful!”
“Librarian memory-erasing toad?” I asked.
“No, not at all!” Dif said. “For me it’s natural.”
“It’s a quite powerful Talent,” Kaz said grudgingly. “It can affect everyone aro
und him. Only three people in the history of the Smedry line have had it.”
“Cool,” I said, smiling as Dif nodded. I didn’t get what made Kaz so uptight about the guy. Yes, he was … enthusiastic, but so were most Smedrys. “Like you can make people forget that you were spotted, and things like that?”
“I have no idea,” Dif said, grinning.
“Every time he uses his Talent, everyone immediately forgets about it,” Kaz explained.
“That sounds inconvenient.”
Dif shrugged. “Like breaking things by accident? Or getting lost when you don’t intend to?”
I nodded. It wouldn’t be a Smedry Talent without bizarre side effects. “But … how do you know what your Talent can do if you can’t remember using it?”
“It comes to me when I need it. Like this morning. I can’t remember at all what happened to me right after breakfast! Means my Talent engaged.”
“This morning?” Kaz asked. “Your Talent worked?”
“Sure did,” Dif said. He looked from Kaz to me. “Is … that a problem?”
“Not a problem,” Kaz said, rubbing his chin, “but maybe a clue. Eh, Al?”
I nodded slowly. It might mean the Talents were still working sporadically … or maybe Dif had been far enough away that his Talent never got broken. Or maybe he was simply forgetful by nature, and his Talent had nothing to do with what had happened this morning. I had no way to tell; I’d have to watch him and see if it happened again.
“I should go see what Lenses Grandpa has for me,” I said.
“Great!” Dif said. “That’ll be awesowambastic!”
“… What?” I asked.
“Awesowambastic!” Dif said. “It’s a word I just made up. It means exactly as awesome as we all are!” He grabbed me with one arm in a buddylike side hug. “Smedrys, am I right?”
“Okay, sure,” I said, extricating myself.
“Be quick if you can, Al,” Kaz said, reading some numbers on his glass control panel. “We’ve got under a half hour before we hit the Librarian defenses outside Washington, DC.”
