Alcatraz Versus the Scrivener's Bones

Australia, it read.

I don’t know if I’ll be there at the pickup point. Something has come up that requires my attention. Kindly fetch my grandson for me as planned, and take him to Nalhalla. I will meet up with you when I can.

Leavenworth Smedry

Outside, we rose into the clouds. The vehicle really seemed to be picking up speed.

“So, we’re going to Nalhalla?” I asked, glancing back at Bastille’s mother.

“As long as that’s what you command,” the woman said. Her tone implied it was really the only choice.

“I guess it is, then,” I said, feeling a slight disappointment, the reason for which I couldn’t pin down.

“You should go to your quarters, Lord Smedry,” Draulin said. “You can rest there; it will take several hours to journey across the ocean to Nalhalla.”

“Very well,” I said, rising.

“I will lead you,” Draulin said.

“Nonsense,” I said, glancing at Bastille. “Have the squire do it.”

“As you command,” the knight said, nodding her head at Bastille. I walked from the cockpit, Bastille trailing behind, then waited until the door slid closed. Through its glass, I could see Draulin turn and stand, still at parade rest, facing out the eyeball of the dragon.

I turned to Bastille. “What’s that all about?”

Her face reddened. “Just what she said, Smedry. Come on. I’ll take you to your room.”

“Oh, don’t get like that with me,” I said, rushing to catch up. “You lose one sword, and they bust you back to squire? That doesn’t make any sense.”

Bastille flushed even more deeply. “My mother is a very brave and well-respected Knight of Crystallia. She always does what is best for the order and never acts without careful thought.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Bastille glanced down. “Look, I told you when I lost my sword that I would be in trouble. Well, see, I’m in trouble. I’ll deal with it. I don’t need your pity.”

“It isn’t pity! It’s annoyance.” I eyed her. “What aren’t you telling me, Bastille?”

Bastille muttered something about Smedrys but otherwise gave no response. She stalked through the glass corridors, leading me toward—I assumed—my cabin.

As I walked, however, I grew more and more displeased with events. Grandpa Smedry must have discovered something, otherwise he wouldn’t have missed the pickup, and I hated feeling like I was being left out of important things.

Now, this is a stupid way to feel, if you think about it. I was always being left out of important things. At that very moment, there were thousands of people doing very important things all across the world—everything from getting married to jumping out windows—and I wasn’t a part of any of it. The truth is, even the most important people get left out of most things that happen in the world.

But I was still annoyed. As I walked, I realized I still had on my Courier’s Lenses. They were very limited in range, but maybe Grandfather was close by.

I activated the Lenses. Grandfather? I thought, focusing. Grandfather, are you there?

Nothing. I sighed. It had been a long shot anyway. I didn’t really—

A very faint image appeared in front of me. Alcatraz? a distant voice said.

Grandfather? I thought, growing excited. Yes, it’s me!

Flustered Farlands! How did you contact me across such a distance? The voice was so weak that I could barely hear it, even though it was speaking directly into my mind.

Grandfather, where are you?

The voice said something, but was too soft to hear. I focused harder, closing my eyes. Grandfather!

Alcatraz! I think I’ve found your father. He came here. I’m sure of it!

Where, Grandfather? I asked.

The voice was growing even fainter. The Library …

Grandfather! What library?

Library … of Alexandria …

And then he was gone. I concentrated, but the voice didn’t come back. Finally I sighed, opening my eyes.

“You all right, Smedry?” Bastille asked, giving me a strange look.

“The Library of Alexandria,” I said. “Where is it?”

Bastille eyed me. “Um, in Alexandria?”

Right. “Where is that?”

“Egypt.”

“Like, the real Egypt? My Egypt?”

Bastille shrugged. “Yeah, I think so. Why?”

I glanced back toward the cockpit.

“No,” Bastille said, folding her arms. “Alcatraz, I know what you’re thinking. We’re not going there.”

“Why not?”

“The Library of Alexandria is extremely dangerous. Even ordinary Librarians are scared to go into it. Nobody in their right mind ever visits that place.”

“That sounds about right,” I said. “Because Grandpa Smedry is there right now.”

“How would you know something like that?”

I tapped my Lenses.