Alcatraz Versus the Scrivener's Bones

Ms. Fletcher—or Shasta, or whatever her name was—had worked as my personal caseworker during my years as a foster child in the Hushlands. She’d always treated me harshly, never giving me a hint that she was, in truth, my biological mother. Did she have something to do with the twisted, half-human Scrivener’s Bone that was hunting me? How had she known about my father’s trip to Alexandria? And what would she do if she found me here?

Something glowed on the ground in front of us, slightly brighter than the stones around it.

“Stop,” I said, causing Bastille and Kaz to freeze. “Tripwire, right there.”

Bastille knelt down. “So there is,” she said, sounding impressed.

We carefully made our way over it, then continued on. During our last hour of walking, we’d left behind the hallways filled with scrolls. More and more frequently, we were passing hallways filled with bookshelves. These books were still and musty, with cracking leather-bound covers, but they were obviously newer than the scrolls.

Every book ever written. Was there, somewhere in here, a room filled with paperback romance novels? The thought was amusing to me, but I wasn’t sure why. The Curators claimed to collect knowledge. It didn’t matter to them what kinds of stories or facts the books contained—they would gather it all, store it, and keep it safe. Until someone wanted to trade their soul for it.

I felt very sorry for the person who was tricked into giving up their soul for a bad romance novel.

We kept moving. Theoretically Kaz’s Talent was leading us toward Australia, but it seemed to me like we were walking aimlessly. Considering the nature of his Talent, that was probably a good sign.

“Kaz,” I said. “Did you know my mother?”

The short man eyed me. “Sure did. She was … well, is … my sister-in-law.”

“They never divorced?”

Kaz shook his head. “I’m not sure what happened—they had a falling-out, obviously. Your father gave you away to be cared for in foster homes, and your mother took up a position watching over you.” He paused, then shook his head. “We were all there at your naming, Al. That was the day when your father pronounced the Sands of Rashid upon you as your inheritance. We’re still not sure how he got them to you at the right time, in the right place.”

“Oracle’s Lenses,” I said.

“He has a pair of those?”

I nodded.

“Walnuts! The prophets in Ventat are supposed to have the only pair in existence. I wonder where Attica found some.”

I shrugged. “He mentioned them in the letter he sent me.”

Kaz nodded thoughtfully. “Well, your father disappeared a few days after pronouncing your blessing, so I guess there wasn’t time for a divorce. Your mother could ask for one, but she really has no motivation to do so. After all, she’d lose her Talent.”

“What?”

“Her Talent, Al,” Kaz said. “She’s a Smedry now.”

“Only by marriage.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Kaz said. “The spouse of a Smedry gains their husband’s or wife’s same Talent as soon as the marriage is official.”

I’d assumed that Talents were genetic—that they were passed on from parents to children, kind of the same way that skin color or hair color was. But this meant they were something different. That seemed important.

Some things do make more sense now, I thought. Grandpa Smedry said he’d worried that my mother had only married my father for his Talent. I’d assumed that she’d been enthralled with the Talent, much as someone might marry a rock star for his guitar skillz. However, that didn’t sound like my mother.

She’d wanted a Talent. “So, my mother’s Talent is…”

“Losing things,” Kaz said. “Just like your father’s.” He smiled, eyes twinkling. “I don’t think she’s ever figured out how to use it properly. She’s a Librarian—she believes in order, lists, and catalogues. To use a Talent, you have to be able to let yourself be out of control for a while.”

I nodded. “What did you think? When he married her, I mean.”

“I thought he was an idiot,” Kaz said. “And I told him so, as is the solemn duty of younger brothers. He married her anyway, the stubborn hazelnut.”

About what I expected, I thought.

“But, Attica seemed to love her,” Kaz continued with a sigh. “And to be perfectly honest, she wasn’t as bad as many Librarians. For a while it seemed like they might actually make things work. Then … it fell apart. Right around the time you were born.”

I frowned. “But she was a Librarian agent all along, right? She only wanted to get Father’s Talent.”

“Some still think that’s the case. She really did seem to care for him, though. I … well, I just don’t know.”

“She had to be faking,” I said stubbornly.

“If you say so,” Kaz said. “I think you may be letting your preconceptions cloud your thinking.”

I shook my head. “No. I don’t do that.”