Alcatraz Versus the Scrivener's Bones

“You think?” Bastille asked flatly. “The trick is, I can’t scout ahead. Not if you’re leading us with your Talent.”

“We’ll just have to be more cautious then,” Kaz said. I looked down at the tripwire, thinking about the danger. We couldn’t afford to stumble into every one of those we came across. Who knew if we’d even be able to think of a way out of the next one?

“Kaz, Bastille, wait a second.” I reached into a pocket, pulling out my Lenses. I left the Windstormer’s Lenses alone and put on the Discerner’s Lenses—the ones that Grandpa Smedry had left for me up above.

Immediately, everything around me began to give off a faint glow, indicating how old it was. I looked down. Sure enough, the tripwire glowed far lighter than the stones or the scrolls around it. It was newer than the original construction of the building. I looked up, smiling. “I think I’ve found a way around the problem.”

“Are those Discerner’s Lenses?” Bastille asked.

I nodded.

“Where in the sands did you get a pair of those?”

“Grandpa Smedry left them for me,” I said. “Outside, along with a note.” I frowned, glancing at the Curators. “Speaking of which, didn’t you say you’d return the writings you took from me?”

The creatures glanced at one another. Then, one of them approached, betraying a sullen look. The apparition bent down and set some things on the ground: copies of my tags, the wrapper that had been taken from me, and Grandpa Smedry’s note. There were also copies of the money I’d given them—they were perfect replicas, except that they were colorless.

Great, I thought. But I probably didn’t need that anymore anyway. I stooped down to gather the things, which all glowed brightly, since they all had been created brand-new. Bastille took the note, looked it over with a frown, then handed it to Kaz.

“So, your father really is down here somewhere,” she said.

“Looks like it.”

“And … the Curators claim he already gave up his soul.”

I fell silent. They gave back my papers when I asked, I thought, and they keep trying to get us to agree to give away our souls, but they don’t take them by force. They’re bound by rules.

I should have realized this earlier. You see, everything is bound by rules. Society has laws, as does nature, as do people. Many of society’s rules have to do with expectations—which I’ll talk about later—and therefore can be bent. A lot of nature’s laws, however, are hard-set.

There are many more of these than you might expect. In fact, there are even natural laws relating to this book, my favorite of which is known as the Law of Pure Awesomeness. This law simply states that any book I write is awesome. I’m sorry, but it’s a fact.

Who am I to argue with science?

“You,” I said, looking toward a Curator. “Your kind have laws, don’t they?”

The Curator paused. “Yes,” it finally said. “Do you want to read them? I can give you a book that explains them in detail.”

“No,” I said. “No, I don’t want to read about them. I want to hear about them. From you.”

The Curator frowned.

“You have to tell me, don’t you?” I said, smiling.

“It is my privilege to do so,” the creature said. Then it began to smile. “Of course, I am going to have to tell them to you in their original language.”

“We are impressed that you speak ancient Greek,” another said. “You are one who came to us prepared. There are few that do that these days.”

“But,” another whispered, “we doubt that you know how to speak Elder Faxdarian.”

Speak ancient Greek … I thought, confused. Then it occurred to me. They don’t know about my Translator’s Lenses! They think that because I understood them back at the beginning, I must have known the language.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I said casually, swapping my Discerner’s Lenses back for my Translator’s Lenses. “Try me.”

“Ha,” one of them said in a very odd, strange language—it consisted mostly of spitting sounds. Like always, the Translator’s Lenses let me hear the words in English. “The fool thinks he knows our language.”

“Give him the rules then,” another hissed.

“First rule,” said the one in front of me. “If anyone enters our domain bearing writing, we may separate them from their group and demand the writing be given to us. If they resist, we may take the writing, but we must return copies. We may hold these back for one hour but, unless the items are requested, can keep them from then on.

“Second rule, we may take the souls of those who enter, but we can do so only if the souls are offered freely and lawfully. Souls may be coerced, but not forced.