Alcatraz versus the Scrivener's Bones (14 page)

"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 thought
fully. "Well, your father disap
peared just a few days after pronouncing your blessing, so
I guess there just 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 T
a
lent."

"
W
hat
?"

"Her T
a
lent, 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
s
ame T
a
lent as soon as the
marriage is official."

I'd assumed that T
a
lents 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.

That does make some things make more sense
,
I thought.
Grandpa
S
medry 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 skill
s
.
However, that didn't
sound like my mother.

She'd wanted a T
a
lent. "So, my mother's T
a
lent is . . ."

"Losing things," Kaz said. "
J
ust like your father's."
He smiled, eyes twinkling
. "I don't think she's ever fig
ured out how to use it properly. She's a Librarian
–
she
believes in order, lists, and catalogues. To use a T
a
lent, you
just 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 though
t he was an idio
t,”
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
h
onest, 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? Sh
e just wanted to get Father's Ta
lent."

"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 preconcepti
o
ns cloud
y
our
thinking."

I shook my head. "No. I don't do that."

"Oh, you don't?" Kaz said, amused. "Well then, let's try
something. Why don't you tell me about your grandfather;
pretend I don't know anything about him, and you want
to describe him to me."

"Okay," I said slowly. "Grandpa Smedry is a brilliant
O
culator who is a little bit zany, but who is one of the Free
Kingdom's most important figures. He has the T
a
lent to
arrive late to things."

"Great," Kaz said. "Now tell me about Bastille."

I eyed her, and she shot me a threatening glance. "
U
h,
Bastille is a Crystin. I think
that's about all I can say with
out her throwing something at me."

"Good enough. Australia?"

I shrugged. "She seems a bit scatterbrained, but is
a good person. She's an Oculator and has a Smedry
Ta
lent."

"Oka
y," Kaz said. "Now talk about me."

“
Wel
l, you're a short person who –“

"Stop," Kaz said.

I did so, shooting him a questioning glance.

"Why is it," Kaz said, "that with the others, the first
thing you described about
them was their job or their per
sonality? Yet, with me, the first thing you mentioned was
my height?"

"I ...uh..."

Kaz laughed. "I'm not trying to trap
y
ou, kid. But,
maybe you see why I get
so annoyed sometimes. The trou
ble wit
h being different is that people
start defining you by
what
you are instead of by
who
you
a
r
e
."

I fell silent.

"Your mother is a Librarian," Kaz said. "
Be
cause of that,
we tend t
o think of her as a Librarian first, and
a person
second. Our knowledge of her as a Librarian
clouds every
thing else."

"She's not a good person, Kaz
,”
I sai
d
.
“She
offered to
sell me to a Dark Oculator."

"Did she?" Kaz asked. "What exactly did sh
e
s
a
y?"

I thought back to the time when Bastill
e
, Sing, and I
had been hiding in the library, listening to Ms. Fletcher
speak with Blackburn.
“
Actually," I said, "she didn't say
anything. It was the Dark Oculator who said something
like,
‘
You'd sell the boy too
, wouldn't you? You impress me.’
And she just shrugged or nodded or something."

"So," Kaz said, "she
didn't
offer to sell you out."

"She didn't contradict Blackburn."

Kaz shook his head. "S
hasta has her own agenda, kid. I
don't think any of us can
p
resume to understand exactly
what she's up to. Your father saw something in her. I still
think he's a fool for marrying her, but for a Librarian, she
wasn't too bad."

I wasn't convinced. My bias against Librarians wasn't
the only thing making me distrust
S
hasta.
She had con
sistently berated me as a child, saying I was worthless. (I
now know she had been trying to get me to stop using my
Talent, for fear it would expose me to those who were
searching for the Sands.)
Either way, she'd been my mother
all that time, and she hadn't ever given me even a hint of
confirmation.

Though . . . she had stayed with me, always, watching
over me.

I pushed that thought aside.
S
he didn't deserve credit
for that
–
she'd just been hoping for the chance to grab
the sands of Rashid. The very day they arrived, she showed
up and swiped them.

". . . don't know,
Kaz
,”
Bastille was saying.
"
I
think that
the main reason people think of your height first is because
of that ridiculous List of yours."

"My List is
not
ridiculous," Kaz said with a huff. "It's
very scientific."

"Oh?" Bastille asked. "Didn't you claim that
'short peo
ple are better because it takes them longer to walk places,
therefore they get more exercise'?"

"That
one has been clinically proven.” Kaz said, point
ing at her.

"It does seem a bit of a stretch," I said, smiling.

"You forget Reason number one," he said. "'Don't argue
with the short person.'
He's always right."

Bastille snorted. "It's a good thing you don't claim short
people are more humble."

Kaz fell silent. "That's
Reason two thirty-six," he mut
tered quietly. "I just haven't mentioned that one yet."

Bastille shot me a glance through her sunglasses, and I
could tell she was rolling her eyes. However, even though
I didn't believe Kaz abo
ut my mother, I thought his com
ments about how to treat people were valid.

Who we are - meaning, the person we become by doing
things
–
which
–
incidentally
–
is actually a function of
who we are – for example, I’ve become an Oculator – which is quite fun – but doing things that relate to Oculators – not who we can be – is more important – actually – than what we look like.

For instance, the fact that I use lots of dashes in my
writing is part of what makes me,
m
e. I'd rather be known
by this
–
since it's cool
–
than by the fact that I have a big
nose.
W
hich I don't.
W
hy are you looking at me like that?

"Wait!" I said, holding out a hand.

Bastille froze.

"Trip wire," I said, heart pounding. Her foot hovered
just a few inches from it.

S
he backed away, and Kaz squatted down.
“W
ell done,
kid. It's a good thing you have those Lenses."

"Yeah," I said, taking them off and cleaning them. I
guess." I still wished I had a weapon instead of another pair
of Lenses that showed me random stuff.
W
ouldn't a sword
have been equally useful?

O
f course, I might think that just because I really like
swords. Give me the chance, and I'd probably
cut my wed
ding cake with one.

I did have to admit, though, that I'd made pretty good
use of the Discerner's Lenses.
M
a
yb
e
I'd discounted them
t
oo quickly at first. I cleaned m
y Lenses, feeling an odd
sensation from inside. It was slight, a little like indigestion,
but less foody.

I shook my head and put the Discerner's Lenses back
on, then guided the other t
wo over the trip wire. As I did,
I
noticed something interesting. "There's a second trip wire
just a few feet ahead."

"They're getting more cl
ever," Bastille said. "They fig
ured we'd see this one, but hoped we'd feel safe once we
passed it
–
then go right on and trip the second."

I nodded, glancing at the Curators floating behind. I
noticed that the odd sensation was getting stronger. It was
hard to explain. It wasn't really a sick feeling. More like a
slight itch on my emotions.

"We need to find Australia quickly, Kaz
,”
Bastille said.
"Is it supposed to take this long?"