Alcatraz Versus the Knights of Crystallia

Sing fell silent, and I turned, watching through the translucent walls as we approached the palace. “I think this is all related,” I said more softly. “The Smedry Talents, silimatic technology, Oculators … and whatever it is my mother is trying to accomplish. It’s all connected.”

She didn’t believe what she said about the Librarians ruling everything. She wasn’t certain.

She has different goals from the other Librarians. But what are they?

I sighed, shaking my head, and reached over to pick up the book we’d brought from the archives. At least we had it, as well as both pairs of Translator’s Lenses. I slipped the Lenses on, then glanced at the first page.

Soups for everyone, it read. A guide to the best Greek and Incarna cooking.

I froze. I flipped through the book anxiously, then took off the Lenses and tried the other pair. Both showed the same thing.

This wasn’t the right book.

“What?” Sing asked. “Alcatraz, what is it?”

“She switched books on us!” I said, frustrated. “This isn’t the book on Incarna history—it’s the cookbook!” I’d seen her work with deft fingers before, when she’d snatched the Sands of Rashid right out from under my nose back in my room in the Hushlands. Plus she had access to my father’s Talent of losing things. It might be of help in hiding stuff.

I slammed the book back down on the table. Around me, the rich, red-furnished room shook as the glass pig continued on its way.

“That’s not important right now,” Bastille said in an exhausted voice. She sat on the couch beside Folsom and Himalaya, and she looked like she’d gotten even worse since we’d left the Librarians. Her eyes were unfocused, as if she’d been drugged, and she kept rubbing her temples.

“We need to stop the treaty first,” she said. “Your mother can’t do anything with that book as long as you have both pairs of Translator’s Lenses.”

She was right. Mokia had to be our focus now. As the pig pulled up to the palace, I took a deep breath. “All right,” I said. “You all know what to do?”

Sing, Folsom, Himalaya, and Prince Rikers each nodded. We’d discussed our plan during the chapter break. (Neener neener.)

“The Librarians aren’t likely to let this go smoothly,” I said, “but I doubt there will be much they can do with all of the soldiers and knights guarding the palace. However, they’re Librarians, so be ready for anything.”

They nodded again. We prepared to go, and the door on the pig’s butt opened. (I think that undermined our dramatic exit.) Bastille stood to go with us, wobbling on unsteady feet.

“Uh, Bastille,” I said. “I think you should wait here.”

She gave me a stiff glance—the kind that made me feel like I’d just been smacked across the face with a broom. I took that as her answer.

“All right,” I said with a sigh. “Let’s go, then.”

We marched out of the pig and up the steps. Prince Rikers called for guards immediately—I think he just liked the drama of having a full troop of soldiers with us. Indeed, our entrance into the hallway with the wall-hanging panes of glass was rather intimidating.

The Knights of Crystallia standing at attention in the hallway saluted us as we passed, and I felt significantly more safe knowing they were there.

“Do you think your mother will have warned the others of what happened?” Sing whispered.

“I doubt it,” I said. “Mother’s allies contacted She Who Cannot Be Named to gloat over having captured some valuable prisoners. You don’t call to gloat over having lost those same prisoners. I think we’ll surprise them.”

“I hope so,” Sing said as we approached the doors to the council room. We nodded to the pair of knights, and then I stepped aside.

“Time for your big entrance, Your Highness,” I said, gesturing for Prince Rikers.

“Really?” he said. “I get to do it?”

“Go ahead,” I said.

The prince dusted himself off. He smiled broadly, then strode through the doors into the chamber and bellowed in a loud voice, “In the name of all that is just, I demand these proceedings to be halted!”

Down below, the monarchs sat around their table, a large document set out before them. King Dartmoor held a quill in his hand, poised to sign. We’d arrived in the nick of time. (What the heck is a nick anyway?)

The monarchs’ table sat in the open area in the center of the room, between the two raised sets of seats that were filled with patrons. Knights of Crystallia stood in a ring around the floor, between the people and the rulers. They were most concentrated, I noticed, near where the Librarians sat.

She Who Cannot Be Named sat at the front of the Librarian group, pleasantly knitting an afghan.

“What is this?” King Dartmoor asked as the rest of my team piled into the room.

“The Librarians are lying to you, Father!” Rikers declared. “They tried to kidnap me!”