Alcatraz Versus the Scrivener's Bones

I brushed the pieces of glass into a pouch, then put it into one of my Lens pockets.

“We’re free,” Bastille said, “but we still don’t really know what to do. In fact, we don’t even know how to get to Kiliman.”

“We’ll find a way,” I said, standing up.

She looked at me, then—surprisingly—nodded. “All right then, what do we do?”

“We—”

Suddenly, Australia rushed back into the room. She was puffing from exertion. “All right, I found your rope!”

She held up an empty hand.

“Uh, thanks,” I said. “Is the rope imaginary?”

“No, silly,” she said, laughing. She picked something up between two fingers. “Look!”

“Tripwire,” Bastille said.

“Is that what it is?” Australia said. “I just found it on the ground over there.”

“And how exactly were you going to use that to get us out of the pit?” I asked. “I doubt it’s long enough, and even if it is, it would never have held our weight.”

Australia cocked her head. “That’s why you wanted rope?”

“Sure,” I said. “So that we could climb out of the pit.”

“But you’re already out of the pit.”

“We are now,” I said with exasperation. “But we weren’t at the time. I wanted you to find rope so that we could climb it.”

“Oh!” Australia said. “Well, you should have said so then!”

I stood, stupefied. “You know what, never mind,” I said, taking the length of tripwire. I was about to stuff it in my pocket, then paused, looking at it.

“What?” Bastille asked.

I smiled.

“You have an idea?”

I nodded.

“What is it?”

“Tell you in a minute,” I said. “First, we have to figure out how to get to the center of the library.”

We all looked at one another.

“I’ve been wandering through the hallways all day,” Australia said. “With those ghost things offering me books at every turn. I keep explaining that I hate reading, but they don’t listen. If I hadn’t run across your footprints, Alcatraz, I’d still be lost!”

“Footprints!” I said. “Australia, can you see Kaz’s footprints?”

“Of course.” She tapped the yellow Lenses, my Tracker’s Lenses, which she was still wearing.

“Follow them!”

She nodded, then led us from the room. Only a few feet down the hallway, however, she stopped.

“What?” I asked.

“They end here.”

His Talent, I realized. It’s jumping him about the library, leading him to the center. We’ll never be able to track him.

“That’s it, then,” Bastille said, beginning to sound depressed again. “We’ll never get there in time.”

“No,” I said. “If I’m in charge, then we’re not going to give up.”

She looked taken aback. Then she nodded. “All right. What do we do?”

I stood for a moment, thinking. There had to be a way. Information, lad. Grandpa Smedry’s voice seemed to return to me. More powerful than any sword or gun …

I looked up sharply. “Australia, can you follow my footprints back the way I originally came, before I entered that room with the pit?”

“Sure,” she said.

“Do it, then.”

She led us through cagelike chambers and corridors. In a few minutes, we left the dungeon section of the library and entered the section with the bookshelves. The gold bars I’d discarded on the ground proved that we were back where we’d started. I piled the bars into Bastille’s pack.

No, not because of some great plan to use them. I just figured that if I survived all this, I’d want some gold. (I don’t know if you realize this, but you can totally buy stuff with it.)

“Great,” Bastille said. “We’re back here. I don’t mean to question you, O Great Leader, but we were lost when we were here too. We still don’t know which way to go.”

I reached into a pocket, then pulled out the Discerner’s Lenses. I put them on, then looked at the bookshelves. I smiled.

“What?” Bastille asked.

“They hold every book ever written, right?”

“That’s what the Curators claim.”

“So, they would have gathered them chronologically. When a new book comes out, the Curators get a copy, then put it on their shelves.”

“So?”

“That means,” I said, “that the newer books are going to be at the outer edges of the library. The older the books get, the closer we’ll get to the center. That’s the place where they would have put their first books.”

Bastille opened her mouth slightly, then her eyes widened as she understood. “Alcatraz, that’s brilliant!”

“Must have been that bump to the head,” I said, then pointed down the hallway. “That way. The books get older as they move down the row that direction.”

Bastille and Australia nodded, and we were off.

Chapter 18

We’re almost at the end of the second book. Hopefully you’ve enjoyed the ride. I’m certain you know more about the world now than you did when you began.

In fact, you’ve probably learned all you need to. You know about the Librarian conspiracy, and you know that I’m a liar. Everything I wanted to do has been accomplished. I suppose I can just end the book right here.

Thanks for reading.

The end.

Oh, so that’s not good enough for you, eh? Demanding today, are we?