Alcatraz Versus the Scrivener's Bones

“They wouldn’t work at such a distance.”

“They did. I just talked to him. He’s there, Bastille.” And … he thinks my father is too.

That gave me a twist in my stomach. I’d grown up assuming that both of my parents were dead. Now I was beginning to think that both were actually alive. My mother was a Librarian and worked for the wrong side. I wasn’t entirely sure I wanted to know what my father was like.

No. That’s wrong. I really wanted to know what my father was like. Except I was afraid of it at the same time.

I glanced back at Bastille.

“You’re sure he’s there?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Shattering Glass,” she muttered. “Last time we tried something like this, you almost got killed, your grandfather got tortured, and I lost my sword. Do we really want to go through that again?”

“What if he’s in trouble?”

“He’s always in trouble,” Bastille said.

We fell silent. Then, both of us turned and rushed back to the cockpit.

Chapter 3

I’d like to make something clear. I have been unfair to you. That is to be expected, liar that I am.

In the first book of this series, I made some sweeping generalizations about Librarians, many of which are not completely true.

However, I didn’t take the time to explain that they’re not the only kind of Librarians. You may, therefore, have assumed that all Librarians are evil cultists who want to take over the world, enslave humanity, and sacrifice people on their altars.

This is completely untrue. Not all Librarians are evil cultists. Some Librarians are instead vengeful undead who want to suck out your soul.

I’m glad we cleared that up.

“You want to do what?” Bastille’s mother demanded.

“Fly to the Library of Alexandria,” I said.

“Out of the question, my lord. We can’t possibly do that.”

“We have to,” I said.

Australia turned toward me, leaving one hand on the glowing glass square that allowed her, somehow, to pilot Dragonaut. “Alcatraz, why would you want to go to Alexandria? It’s not a very friendly place.”

“Grandpa Smedry is there,” I said. “That means we need to go too.”

“He didn’t say he was going to Egypt,” Australia said, glancing again at the crumpled note that he’d sent.

“The Library of Alexandria is one of the most dangerous places in the Hushlands, Lord Smedry,” Draulin continued. “Most ordinary Librarians will only kill or imprison you. The Curators of Alexandria, however, will steal your soul. I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to be placed in such danger.”

The tall, armored woman still stood with her arms behind her back. She kept her silver hair long but in a utilitarian ponytail, and she did not meet my eyes, but instead stared directly forward.

Now, I’d like to point out that what I did next was completely logical. Really. There’s a law of the universe—unfamiliar to most people in the Hushlands but quite commonly known to Free Kingdoms scientists. It is called the Law of Inevitable Occurrence.

In layman’s terms, this law states that some things simply have to happen. If there’s a red button on a console with the words don’t push taped above it, someone will push it. If there’s a gun hanging conspicuously above Chekhov’s fireplace, someone is going to end up shooting it (probably at Nietzsche).

And if there’s a stern woman telling you what to do—yet at the same time calling you “my lord”—you’re going to simply have to figure out how far you can push her.

“Jump up and down on one foot,” I said, pointing at Draulin.

“Excuse me?” she asked, flushing.

“Do it. That’s an order.”

And she did, looking rather annoyed.

“You can stop,” I said.

She did so. “Would you mind telling me what that was about, Lord Smedry?”

“Well, I wanted to figure out if you’d do what I commanded.”

“Of course I will,” Draulin said. “As the oldest child of Attica Smedry, you are the heir to the pure Smedry line. You outrank both your cousin and your uncle, which means you are in command of this vessel.”

“Wonderful,” I said. “So that means I can decide where we go, right?”

Bastille’s mother fell silent. “Well,” she finally said, “that is technically true, my lord. However, I have been charged with safely bringing you back to Nalhalla. Asking me to take you to such a dangerous location would be foolhardy, and—”

“Yeah, that’s just spiffy,” I said. “Australia, let’s get going. I want to be in Egypt as soon as possible.”

Bastille’s mother closed her mouth, growing even more red in the face. Australia only shrugged and reached over to put her hand on another glass square. “Um, take us to the Library of Alexandria,” she said.

The giant glass dragon shifted slightly, beginning to undulate in a different direction, six wings flapping in succession.

“That’s it?” I asked.

Australia nodded. “It’ll still take us a few hours to get there, though. We’ll fly up over the pole and down into the Middle East, rather than out toward Nalhalla.”