Alcatraz versus the Knights of Crystallia (12 page)

Book five.
So there.

"So who is this person we're following?"
Folsom asked,
pulling the cotton from his ears as we left the prince's
castle.

"My
mother
,
"
I
said
curtly,
glancing
about.
A carriage
was leaving, and I caught a glance of my mother's face in it.
"There.
Let's go."

"Wait," Folsom said.
"That's
Shasta Smedry
?"

I nodded.

He whistled.
"This could get dangerous."

"There's more," Himalaya said, catching up to us.
"If
what I heard in there is true, then
She Who Cannot Be
Named
is going to be arriving in the city soon."

"Wait, who?" I asked.

"I just told you," Himalaya said.
"
She Who Cannot Be
Named
.
The Librarians aren't satisfied with how the treaty
negotiations are proceeding, so they decided to bring in a
heavy hitter."

"That's bad," Folsom said.

"She Who Cannot Be Named?" I asked.
"Why can't we
say her name?
Because it might draw the attention of evil
powers?
Because we're afraid of her?
Because her name has
become a curse upon the world?"

"Don't be silly,”
Himalaya said.
"We
don’t say her name
because nobody can pronounce it."

"Kangech . . ." Folsom tried.
Kangenchenug . . . K
agenchachsa . . .

"She Who Cannot Be
Named,” Himalaya finished. “It’s ea
sier."

"Either way
,”
Folsom
said
, "
W
e should report back to
Lord Smedry – this is go
ing to get very dangerous,
very quickly.”

I snorted.
"It's no more dangerous than when I testified
against the Acrophobic English Teachers of Poughkeepsie!"

"Uh, you didn't actually do that, Alcatra
z,”
he pointed
out.
"That was in one of the books Rikers wrote."

I froze.
That's right.
I'd been talking about it with the
prince, but that didn't change the fact that it hadn't ever
actually happened.

It
also
didn't change the fact that Shasta's carriage was
quickly disappearing.
"Look," I said, pointing.
"My grand
father put you in charge of watching the Librarians in the
city.
Now you're going to let one of the most infamous ones
get away without following?"

"Hum," he said. "Good point."

We rushed down the steps and toward the carriages. I
picked a likely one, then hopped up into it.
"I'm comman
deering this vehicle!" I said.

"Very well, Lord Smedry," said the driver.

I hadn't expected it to
be that easy. You should remem
ber that we Smedrys are legal officers of the government in
Nalhalla.
We're able to commandeer pretty much anything
we want.
(Only doughnuts are outside our reach, as per the
Doughnut Exemption act of the eighth century. Fortunately,
doughnuts don't exist in the Free Kingdoms, so the law
doesn't get used much.)

F
olsom and Him
alaya climbed into the carriage after
me, and I pointed at Shasta's disappearing vehicle.
"Follow
that carriage!" I said in a dramatic voice.

And so, the driver did.
Now, I don't know if you've ever
been in a city carriage before, but they travel at, like, two
miles an hour
–
particularly
during afternoon traffic.
After
my rather dramatic and hero
ic (if I do say so myself) proc
lamation, things took a decidedly slow turn as our driver
guided the horses out onto the street, then clopped along
behind Shasta's vehicle.
I felt more like I was out on a casual
evening drive than part of a high-speed chase.

I sat down. "Not very exciting, is it?"

"I'll admit, I was expecting more," Folsom said.

At that moment, we passed a street performer playing a
lute on the side of the road. Himalaya reached for Folso
m
,
but it was too late.
My cousin stood
u
p in a quick motion,
then jumped up onto the back of the carriage and began
doing expert kung fu moves.

"Gak!" I said, diving for the floor as a karate chop
nar
rowly missed my head.
"Folsom, what are you doing?"

"It's his Talent," Himalaya said, scrambling down beside
me.
"He's a bad dancer!
The moment he hears music, he
gets like this. It –“

We passed the street performer and Folsom froze mid-swing, his foot mere inches from my face.
"Oh
,”
he said,
"terribly sorry about that, Alcatraz.
My T
a
lent can be a bit
difficult at times."

“
A bit difficult" is an understatement.
Fo
lsom once wan
dered into a ballroom dance competition.
He not only
managed to trip every single person in the room but he
also ended up stuf
fing one of the judges in a tub
a.
I
f you're
wondering, yes, that's why Himalaya had filled Folsom's
ears with cotton before letting him enter the party room.
It's also why Folsom had removed the theme music glass
from his copy of
Alcatraz Smedry and the Mechanic's
Wrench
.

"Alcatraz!" Himalaya said, pointing as we seated ourselves again.

I spun, realizing that my mother's carriage had stopped
at an intersection, and our carriage was pulling up right
beside hers. "Gak!" I said. "Driver, what are you doing?"

The driver turned, confused. "Following that car
r
iage,
like you said."

"Well, don't let them
know
that we're following them!" I
said.
"Haven't you ever seen any superspy movies?"

"What's a movie?" the driver asked, followed by,
“
And . . . what's a superspy?"

I didn't have time t
o explain. I waved for Himalaya
and Folsom to duck.
However, there just wasn't enough
room
–
one
of us would have to sit up.
Would my mother
recognize Folso
m
,
a
famous Smedry?
What about Himalaya,
a rebel Librarian?
We were all conspicuous.

"Can't you two do something to hide us?" Himalaya
hissed.
"You know, magic powers and all that."

"I could beat up her horse, if we had music," Folsom
said thoughtfully.

Himalaya glanced at me, worried, and it wasn't until
that moment that I remembered that I was an Oculator.

Oculator.
Lens-wielder.
I had magic glasses, including
the ones my grandfather had given me earlier.
I cursed,
pulling out the purple ones he'd called Disguiser's Lenses.
He'd told me to think of something, then look at someone,
and I would appear to be that thing.
I slid the Lenses
on and focused.

Himalaya yelped. "You look like an old man!"

"Lord Smedry?" Folsom asked, confused.

That wouldn't do.
Shasta would recognize Grandpa
Smedry for sure.
I threw myself up into the seat and thought
of someone else.
My sixth-grade teacher, Mr. Mann.
I
remembered, at the last minute, to picture him wearing a
tunic like he was from the Free Kingdoms. Then I looked
over at my mother, sitting in the next carriage.

She glanced at me.
My heart thumped in my chest.
(Hearts tend to do that.
Unless you're a zombie.
More on
those later.)

My mother's eyes passed over me without showing any
signs of recognition.
I breat
hed a sigh of relief as the car
riages started again.

Using the Disguiser's Lenses was more difficult than any
others I'd used before.
I got a jolt if my shape changed
forms, and that happened whenever I let my mind wander.
I had to remain focused to maintain the illusion.

As we continued, I felt embarrassed at taking so long to
remember the Disguiser's Lenses.
Bastille often chastised
me for forgetting that I was an Oculator, and she was right.
I still wasn't that used to my powers, as you will see later.

(You'll notice that I often mention ideas I'm going to
explain later in the book.
Sometimes I do this because it
makes nice foreshadowing.
Other times, I'm just trying to
annoy you.
I'll let you decide which is which.)

"Do either of you recognize where we are?" I asked as
the carriage "chase" continued.

"We're approach
ing the king's palace, I think,”
Folsom
said.
"Look, you can see the tips of the towers."

I followed his gesture and saw the white peaks of the
palace.
On the other side o
f the street, we passed an enor
mous rectangular building that read
in big letters
ROYAL ARCHIVES (NOT A LIBRARY)
on the front.
We turned, then
rolled past a line of castles on the back side of the street.
My
mother's carriage turned as if to round the block again.
Something seemed wrong.

"Driver, catch up to the carriage up there," I said.

"Indecisive today, aren't we?" the driver asked with a
sigh.
At the next intersection, we rolled
up beside the car
riage, and I looked over at my mother.

Only, she wasn't there. The carriage held someone who
looked a little like her, but wasn't the same woman.

"Shattering Glass!" I cursed.

"What?" Folsom asked, peeking up over the lip of
the carriage.

"She gave us the slip," I said.

“
Are you sure that's not her?" Folsom asked.

"
U
m, yeah.
T
r
ust me."
I might not have known she was
my mother at the time, but "Ms. Fletcher" had watched
over me for most of my childhood.

"Maybe she's using Lenses, like you
,”
Himalaya said.

"She's not an Oculator," I replied.
"I don't know if she
knew she was being followed, but she somehow got out of
that car
r
iage when we weren't looking."

The other two got up off the floor, sitting again.
I eyed
Himalaya.
Had she somehow tipped off my mother that we
were following?

"
S
hasta Smedry," Himalaya said.
"I
s she a relative of
yours, then?"

"Alcatraz's mother," Folsom said, nodding.