Alcatraz Versus the Knights of Crystallia

“Why, that’s the most distressing thing I’ve ever heard,” said She Who Cannot Be Named. (You know what? That name is really too hard to type all the time. From here on, I’m going to call her Swcbn.)

My companions looked at me. I wore the Truthfinder’s spectacles, one eye closed to look through the single Lens. Unfortunately, Swcbn hadn’t said anything that was false—she’d avoided doing so deliberately, I’m sure.

“Father,” Prince Rikers said, “we can provide proof of what happened!” He waved behind him, and the two knights we’d brought with us entered, carrying the tied and gagged Fitzroy. “This is a Librarian of the Order of the Dark Oculators! He was involved in a plot to steal books from the Royal Archives—”

“Mumf mu mumfmumf,” Fitzroy added.

“—which turned into a plot to kidnap me, the royal heir!” Rikers continued.

Rikers certainly did know how to get into a part. He didn’t seem as much a buffoon now that he was in his element of the court.

“Lady Librarian,” King Dartmoor said, turning to Swcbn.

“I’m … not sure what is happening,” she said. Another half-truth that didn’t come out as lie.

“She does, Your Majesty,” I declared, stepping up. “She ordered the death of Himalaya, who is now a member of the Smedry clan.”

That caused a stir.

“Lady Librarian,” the king said, red-bearded face growing very stern. “Is what he says true, or is it false?”

“I’m not sure if you should be asking me, dear. It’s quite—”

“Answer the question!” the king bellowed. “Have Librarians been plotting to kidnap and steal from us while these very treaty hearings have been occurring?”

The grandmotherly Librarian looked at me, and I could tell that she knew she was caught. “I think,” she said, “that my team and I should be granted a short recess to discuss.”

“No recess!” the king said. “Either you answer as asked, or I’m tearing this treaty in half this instant.”

The elderly Librarian pursed her lips, then finally set down her knitting. “I will admit,” she said, “that some other branches of the Librarians have been pursuing their own ends in the city. However, this is one of the main reasons we are signing this treaty—so that you can give my sect the authority it needs to stop the other sects from continuing this needless war!”

“And the execution of my beloved?” Folsom demanded.

“In my eyes, young man,” Swcbn said, “that one is a traitor and a turncoat. How would your own laws treat someone who committed treason?”

The room fell still. Where was my grandfather? His seat at the table was noticeably empty.

“Considering this information,” said King Dartmoor, “how many of you now vote against signing the treaty?”

Five of the twelve monarchs raised their hands.

“And I assume Smedry would still vote against the signing,” Dartmoor said, “if he hadn’t stormed out in anger. That leaves six against six. I am the deciding vote.”

“Father,” the prince called. “What would a hero do?”

The king hesitated. Then, embarrassingly, he looked up at me. He stared me in the eyes. Then he ripped the treaty in two.

“I find it telling,” he declared to Swcbn, “that you cannot control your own people despite the importance of these talks! I find it disturbing that you would be willing to execute one of your own for joining a kingdom with which you claim you want to be friends. And most of all, I find it disgusting what I nearly did. I want you Librarians out of my kingdom by midnight. These talks are at an end.”

The room exploded with sound. There were quite a number of cheers—many of these coming from the section where the Mokians, Australia included, were sitting. There were some boos, but mostly there was just a lot of excited chatter. Draulin approached from the ranks of knights, laying a hand on the king’s shoulder, and—in a rare moment of emotion—nodded. She actually thought that ripping up the treaty was a good idea.

Maybe that meant she’d see Bastille’s help in this mess as validation for restoring her daughter’s knighthood. I glanced about for Bastille, but she wasn’t to be found. Sing tapped my arm and pointed behind. I could see Bastille in the hallway, sitting in a chair, arms wrapped around herself, shivering. She’d lost her Warrior’s Lenses back when we’d been captured, and I could see that her eyes were red and puffy.

My first instinct was to go to her, but something made me hesitate. Swcbn didn’t seem particularly disturbed by these events. She’d turned back to her knitting. That bothered me.

“Socrates,” I whispered.

“What’s that, Alcatraz?” Sing asked.

“This guy I learned about in school,” I said. “He was one of those annoying types who always asked questions.”

“Okay…” Sing said.

Something was wrong. I began asking questions that should have worried me long before this.

Why was the most powerful Librarian in all of the Hushlands here to negotiate a treaty that the monarchs had already decided to sign?

Why wasn’t she concerned at being surrounded by her enemies, capable of being captured and imprisoned at a moment’s notice?