“Will these Hushlander transmission devices work inside the Highbrary?”
“They should.”
“Excellent. We will be in touch. Be careful up here, Lord Kazan. Do not forget you carry my daughter in this ship.”
“I’ll try not to get us blown up,” Kaz said.
It took a few more minutes—as one might expect—before my grandfather decided to join us. Being late wasn’t only his Smedry Talent, it was a way of life. He finally trotted in, carrying a roll of cloth, and grinned at Draulin. “It really is just like old times!”
“Are you going to sink this city too?” Draulin asked him.
“That happened one time,” Grandpa said. “And everyone got out. Mostly.” He began distributing pieces of cloth.
I took mine with a frown. It was about the size of a towel, and was thin and white. What was this?
Grandpa pulled open the wide bay door on the side of Penguinator. Wind whipped at us, loud enough that I could barely hear Kaz say, “I’ll steer us through that smoke Alcatraz spotted earlier. That would be a great place to jump, as you’ll be hidden from anyone watching.”
“Yes,” I began, “but—”
“A great place to jump?” Dif said. “Out we go then!”
And he shoved me right out the door.
Chapter
Frog
You may have noticed the odd numbering of chapters in this book. Then again, maybe you haven’t noticed. I mean, we both know you aren’t exactly the sharpest sword in the armory. If you were the smart type, you’d be doing something more productive with your time than reading this book. Like, say, swimming with hungry alligators or eating thumbtacks.
We’ll pretend for now that you noticed the chapter names. Good for you. Here, have a cookie.
No, it’s not a dog biscuit. Why would you think I’d try to give you a dog biscuit? Simply because they were on sale.
As I plummeted to my death, I at least got to check off “Jump out of a giant flying glass penguin without a parachute” from my list of things to accomplish in life.*
Granted, I didn’t want to check “die” off my list just yet. This left me in a difficult spot. And then another. And then another. (You see, I kept moving and leaving one spot for the next, as will happen when you’re plummeting at high velocity through the air.)
Fortunately, I had barely enough time to wrap myself in the towel-like length of cloth Grandpa had given me. Then I crashed into the ground.
And bounced.
You see, glassweave cloth can be very helpful for not dying. It had saved Bastille on numerous occasions, and this time it saved me. I was left with a very broken sheet of cloth—cracked like glass—but I survived. Dif plowed into the ground beside me, then Grandpa, my mother, and finally Draulin. We’re Smedrys (well, most of us), and so diving face-first into danger is both our primary method of attack and our backup plan.
Overhead, Penguinator blasted away, and a few Librarian jets chased after it. I hoped the pilots hadn’t seen us make the drop-off, though that hope was a flimsy one. We’d gone too early because of Dif’s interference; the line of smoke I’d seen earlier was still several streets off.
“Well, that was fun,” Grandpa said as he climbed to his feet. “Anyone dead?”
“Does my pride count?” Draulin asked, dusting herself off.
“I don’t think so,” Grandpa said. “I killed that years ago. Dif, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but shoving my grandson out of planes is usually my job. So next time, kindly refrain until I give the word.”
“Sorry, sir,” Dif said, looking abashed.
“Now then,” Grandpa said, “suggestions on what to do next?”
“Run?” Shasta asked.
“Well, I don’t really need the exercise right now, as—”
The building beside us exploded. Troops wearing bow ties and sweater vests barreled around a corner farther down the street, carrying guns.
“Ah,” Grandpa said. “So our hasty drop was spotted, was it? That’s disappointing. I think—”
“Run!” I said, towing him after me as we all scrambled around a corner. Several of the Librarians started firing, but we managed to get out of their line of sight.
“This way to the Highbrary,” Shasta said, turning down a street.
“No,” I said, turning the opposite direction. “This way.” I barreled forward, and fortunately the others joined me, though Shasta complained vociferously.
I ran us through a little garden between two large buildings with ancient-looking stonework. The streets here were wide, yet desolate. I didn’t see a soul—other than the Librarians chasing us—until I stumbled upon a group of terrified people huddled in a small touristy shop.
It was a shock to see people in normal clothing. A clash between my old life and my new one. I was actually back in the Hushlands. America. Nearby a cracked doorway looked in on a convenience store, where a television on the counter was playing to a group of worried people. I slowed here.
Inside, the television displayed a reporter holding a stack of papers, with a blurry picture of the DC area on the screen beside him. “… Nobody knows the nature of the invaders, though some eyewitnesses claim to have seen strange, baffling technology.…”
I started running again as Draulin passed, hauling me after her. Shattering Glass … how must all this look to the common people? A crazy assault out of nowhere? A defending army nobody recognized? The Librarians ruled in secret.
Or they had. Cleaning all of this up would take a whole lot of memory toads. That brought a smile to my lips—one that was quite nearly ripped clean off as a Librarian mortar exploded on the street.
I was thrown to the ground, but as a hail of bullets came from our pursuers, I found Draulin standing crouched between me and the Librarians, arm raised before her face, her glassweave dress and gloves blocking the fire.
Funny thing about Knights of Crystallia—they complain all the time about us Smedrys getting into danger, yet they seem attracted to danger like a novelist to bad puns.*
“Go!” Draulin ordered.
I went.
“This sure is exciting!” Cousin Dif said, glancing over his shoulder as I ran past him to lead the way again. He seemed completely unrepentant, considering that we’d only been spotted because he’d forced us to jump early.
“Where are we going?” Shasta demanded as we lurched around a corner, passing an abandoned cart full of T-shirts and miniature flags.
I pointed ahead, hoping that my gut instinct was right. I had seen something down here, hadn’t I? Someone fighting back? Because if I was wrong, we were likely dead.
But no … that was a barricade, formed out of wooden furniture—most of it desks with lots of little drawers. People hid behind the sides and top of the barricade, though I couldn’t make out any details.
It didn’t matter. If they were fighting, then they were on our side. I led the others toward th
e barricade, Librarians on our tail. Just a little farther and …
One of the people on the barricade stood up. He wore a bow tie, a sweater vest, and horn-rimmed glasses.
A Librarian.
I stumbled to a halt.
A Librarian.
Whoever had been fighting back—if indeed anyone ever had been—the Librarians had already gotten to them. That meant I’d put my family directly between two enemy forces. No place to run—the road dead-ended at the barricade, with buildings burning to either side.
Everyone pulled to a stop around me, Grandpa with Lenses out, Draulin clutching her sword—her swanky evening gown riddled with cracked bullet marks.
The Librarians behind us had nearly caught up.
“Now,” Grandpa said, his voice tense, “would be an excellent time for the Talents to return, don’t you think, Alcatraz? Very dramatic.”
“I don’t … I don’t know how.…”
“Try,” Grandpa said. “You are the focus of the bloodline, lad. You have the Talent in its most pure form. That’s why you were able to break it.”
“I don’t fix things, Grandpa,” I whispered. “I only break them.”
“Try,” he repeated.
I didn’t even know where to start. Unbreak the Talents? Grandpa might as well have told me to breathe underwater, count from one to a sasquatch, or write a book without making fun of anyone. How did I manipulate the Talents?
I tried flexing, then thinking really hard. Nothing happened of course, though I did think for a moment that I saw something. Reflected in the glass of a broken window nearby—a storefront. That window reflected a version of me, except wrong. A translucent, shadowy version of me.
The Bane of Incarna, they had written in the tomb of Alcatraz the First. That which twists, that which corrupts, and that which destroys.