"Um," I said, glancing at my grandfather. He indicated that I should keep talking. “Anyway, I've come to speak at this trial, as is my right as a member of the Smedry clan."
"I believe you have been doing that already,” Draulin said flatly. (Sometimes I can see where Bastille gets her snark.)
"Yes, well," I continued, "I want to vouch for Bastille's skill and cleverness. Without her intervention, both Grandpa Smedry and I would be dead. You probably would be too, Draulin. Let's not forget that you were captured by the very Librarian that Bastille defeated."
"I saw you defeat that Librarian, Lord Smedry," Draulin said. "Not my daughter."
"We did it together,” I said. "As part of a plan we came up with as a team. You got your sword back only because Bastille and I retrieved it for you."
"Yes," said the elderly knight. "But then, that is part of the problem."
"It is?" I said. "Wounding Draulin's pride caused that much trouble?"
Draulin blushed – I felt pleased, though a little ashamed, for getting such a reaction out of her.
"It's more than that,” Big Chin – Archedis – said. "Bastille held her mother's sword."
"She didn't have much choice," I said. "She was trying to save my life, and that of her mother – not to mention my father's life by association. Besides, she only picked it up for a short time."
"Regardless," Archedis said. "Bastille's use of the sword . . . interfered with it. It is more than tradition that keeps us from letting others hold our weapons."
"Wait," I said. "Does this have to do with those crystals in your necks?"
The three knights shared a look.
"We don't discuss these kinds of things with outsiders," the elderly knight said.
"I'm not an outsider," I said. "I'm a Smedry. Besides, I know most of it already." There were three kinds of Crystin shards – the ones that they made into swords, the ones they implanted in Crystin necks, and a third one Bastille hadn't wanted to talk about.
"You bond to those neck crystals," I said, pointing. "You bond to the swords too, don't you? Is that what this is all about? When Bastille picked up her mother's sword to fight Kilimanjaro, it interfered with the bond?"
"That's not all this is about," the oldest knight said. "This is much bigger than that. What Bastille did in fighting with her mother's sword showed recklessness – just like losing her own sword did."
"So?" I demanded.
"So?" Draulin asked. "Young Lord Smedry, we are an order founded on the principle of keeping people like yourself alive. The kings, nobility, and particularly Smedrys of the Free Kingdoms seem to seek their own deaths with regularity. In order to protect them, the Knights of Crystallia must be constant and coolheaded."
"With all due respect, young Lord Smedry," the aged knight said, "it is our job to counteract your foolhardy nature, not encourage it. Bastille is not yet right for knighthood."
"Look,” I said. "Somebody decided that she was worthy of being a knight. Maybe we should talk to them?"
"We are them," Archedis said. "We three elevated Bastille to knighthood six months ago, and are also the ones who chose her first assignment. That is why we are the ones who must face the sad task of stripping her knighthood from her. I believe it is time for us to vote.
"But –“
"Lord Smedry," Draulin said curtly. "You have had your say, and we suffered you. Have you anything more to say that will productively add to this argument?"
They all regarded me. "Would calling them idiots be productive?" I asked, turning toward my grandfather.
"Doubtful,” he said, smiling. "You could try 'nigglenut,' since I bet they don't know the meaning. That probably wouldn't help much either."
"Then I'm done," I said, feeling even more annoyed than when I'd first entered the room.
"Draulin, your vote?" the aged knight – obviously in charge – said.
"I vote to strip knighthood from her," Draulin said. “And sever her from the Mindstone for one week to remove her taint from Crystin blades that do not belong to her."
"Archedis?" the elderly knight asked.
"The young Smedry's speech has moved me," the large-chinned knight said. "Perhaps we have been hasty. I vote to suspend knighthood, but not remove it. Bastille's taint of another's sword must be cleansed, but I believe one week to be too harsh. One day should suffice."
I didn't really know what that last part meant, but the big knight earned a few points in my book for his kindness.
"Then it is up to me," the aged knight said. "I will take the middle road. Bastille, we strip your knighthood from you, but will have another hearing in one week to reevaluate. You are to be severed from the Mindstone for two days. Both punishments are effective immediately. Report to the chamber of the Mindstone."
I glanced back at Bastille. Somehow I felt that decision wasn't in our favor. Bastille continued to stare straight ahead, but I could see lines of tension – even fear – in her face.
I won't let this happen! I thought, enraged. I gathered my Talent. They couldn't take her. I could stop them. I'd show them what it was like when my Talent broke their swords and –
“Alcatraz, lad,” Grandpa Smedry said softly. "Privileges, such as our ability to visit Crystallia, are retained when they are not abused. I believe we have pushed our friends as far as they will go."
I glanced at him. Sometimes there was a surprising depth of wisdom in those eyes of his.
"Let it go, Alatraz,” he said. "We'll find another way to fight this."
The knights had stood and were making their way from the room, likely eager to get away from my grandfather and me. I watched, helpless, as Bastille followed them. She shot me a glance as she left and whispered a single word. "Thanks."
Thanks, I thought. Thanks for what? For failing?
I was, of course, feeling guilty. Guilt, you may know, is a rare emotion that is much like an elevator made of Jell-O. (Both will let you down quite abruptly.)
"Come, lad," Grandpa Smedry said, taking my arm.
"We failed," I said.
"Hardly! They were ready to strip her knighthood completely. At least we've got a chance for her to get it back. You did well."
“A chance to get it back," I said, frowning. "But if the same people are going to vote again in a week, then what good have we done? They'll just vote to strip her knighthood completely."
"Unless we show them she deserves it,” Grandpa said. "By, say, stopping the Librarians from getting that treaty signed and taking over Mokia?"
Mokia was important. But even if we could do what he said, and even if we could get Bastille involved, how was fighting a political battle going to prove anything to do with knighthood?
"What's a Mindstone?" I asked as we walked back to the Transporter chamber.
"Well,” Grandpa Smedry said, "You're not supposed to know about that. Which, of course, makes it all the more fun to tell you. There are three kinds of Crystin shards."
"I know," I interjected. "They make swords from one type."
"Right," Grandpa Smedry said. "Those are special in that they're very resilient to Oculatory powers and things like Smedry Talents, which lets the Knights of Crystallia fight Dark Oculators. The second type of shards are the ones in their necks – the Fleshstones, they call them."
"Those give them powers,” I said. "Make them better soldiers. But what's the third one?"
"The Mindstone," Grandpa Smedry said. "It is said to be a shard from the Worldspire itself, a single crystal that connects all the other Crystin shards. Even I don't know for certain what it does, but I think it connects all Crystin together letting them draw upon the strength of other knights."
"And they're going to cut Bastille off from it," I said. "Maybe that will be a good thing. She'll be more her own person."
Grandpa Smedry eyed me. "The Mindstone doesn't make the knights all have a single mind, lad. It lets them share skills. If one of them knows how to do something, they all get a fraction
of a tad of an iota better at that same thing."
We entered the room with the box, then stepped inside it; apparently, Grandpa Smedry had left instructions for the boxes to be swapped every ten minutes until we returned.
"Grandfather," I said. "My Talent. Is it as dangerous as you said back there?"
He didn't reply.
"In the tomb of Alcatraz the First," I said as the doors to our box closed, "the writing on the walls spoke of the breaking Talent. The writing . . . called it the 'Dark Talent' and implied it had caused the fall of the entire Incarna civilization."
"Others have held the breaking Talent, lad," Grandpa Smedry said. "None of them caused any civilizations to fall! Though they did knock down a wall or two."
His attempt at mirth seemed forced. I opened my mouth to ask more, but the doors to the box opened. Standing directly outside was Folsom Smedry in his red robes, Himalaya at his side.
"Lord Smedry!" Folsom said, looking relieved. "Finally!"