Alcatraz versus the Scrivener's Bones (25 page)

A thin wire, nearly invisi
ble. It stretched from the spec
tacles to a place across the room.
The place where I'd been
kneeling by the wall a moment before.

The place where I'd tied the other end of the trip wire
to one of the scrolls.

Kiliman caught the Lenses.
The trip wire pulled taut.
The scroll popped off of its shelf, falling
t
o the ground.

The Librarian monster's eyes opened wide, and his
mouth gaped in shock.
The
Tr
anslator's Lenses fell to the
ground in front of him.

Immediately, the C
urators surrounded Kiliman. "You
have taken a book!" one cried.

"No!" Kiliman said, stepping back.
"It was an accident!"

"You signed no contract
another said, skull face smiling. "Yet you took a book.”

"Your soul is ours.”

“NO!”

I shuddered at the pain in that voice.
Kiliman reached
toward me, furious, but it was too late. A fire grew from
nothing at his feet.
It burned around him, and he screamed
again.

"You will fall, Smedry!
The Librarians will have your
blood!
It will be spilt on an altar to make the very Lenses
we'll use to destroy your kingdoms, break that which you
love, and enslave those who follow you.
Y
o
u may have
beaten me,
but you will fall
!
"

I shivered. The fires consumed Kili
m
an, and I had to
shield my eyes against the bright light.

And then, it was gone.
I blinked, clearing the after
image from my eyes, and saw a new Curator
–
one
with
only half of a skull
–
hovering
where Kili
m
an ha
d
stood.
A group of discarded nuts, bolts, gears, a
nd
springs were
scattered on the ground.

The half-skull Curator hovered over to th
e
si
de
of the
room, carefully replacing the scroll that ha
d
been
pulled
free.
I ignored it; there were mor
e important things to w
orry about.

"Bastille!" I said, r
ushing over to he
r.
The
re was blood
on her lips, and she seemed so bruised and batt
ered
.
I knelt
beside her.

She groaned softly. I gulped.

"Nice trick," she whispered. "With the trip wire."

"Thanks."

She coughed, then spit up some blood.

By the first sands
,
I thought with a sudden stab of fear.
No.
This can't be happening
!

"Bastille, I . . ."
I suddenly found tears in my eyes.
"I
wasn't fast enou
gh or smart enough. I'm sorry.”

"What are you blathering about?"

I blinked.
"Well,
y
ou look kind of bad, and . . ."

"
S
hut up and help me to my feet," she said, stumbling
to her knees.

I stared at her.

"
W
hat?" she said.
"It's not like I'm dying or anything.
I just broke a few ribs and bit my tongue.
S
hattering
Glass,
S
medry, do you have to be so melodramatic all
the time?"

W
ith that, she stretched, grimaced, and stumbled over
to pick up the fallen Crystin sword.

I got to my feet, feeling relieved and a little foolish.
I
went over and carefully untied the T
r
anslator's Lenses from
the trip wire, then slid them into their pocket, where they
belonged.
To the side, I could see Kaz peek into the room,
apparently having returned from depositing Draulin and
Australia somewhere safe.
He smiled broadly when he saw
me and Bastille, then rushed into the room.

“
Alcatraz, kid, I can
't believe you're still alive!”

"I know," I said.
"I thought for sure one of us was going
to die.
You know, if I ever write my memoirs, this section is
going to seem really boring because nobody was na
rra
tively dynamic enou
g
h to get themselves killed."

Bastille
snorted, joining us, holding one
of
h
e
r ar
m
s
close to her side.
"That's real inspiring, Smed
ry."

"You're the one who stopped following the p
lan," I said.

"What?
Kiliman was faster than you.
H
ow e
xactly
were you planning to keep him from chasing y
o
u
down
as
you ran?"

"I'm . . . not sure," I admitted.

Kaz just laughed.
"What happened to Kilima
n
a
n
yway?"

I pointed toward the Curator with half of a sk
u
ll.
"
He
's
doing a little bit of soul-
s
earching," I said.
"You c
ould say
that watching
over these books is his
soul
re
sponsibility
now. He'll probably enjoy the
soul
-itary lifestyl
e
."

"Can I hit him?" Bastille asked flatly.

I smiled, then noticed something on th
e ground
.
I
picked it up
– a
single, yellow Lens.

"What's that?"

"T
r
acker's Lens," I said.
"Kiliman's.
It had
b
een in the
pouch with Draulin's Fleshstone."

“
My mother," Bastille said. "How is she?"

"
I
'm fine," Draulin's voice said.
W
e spun to find her
standing beside a sheepish Austra
l
ia in
the doo
rway.

"Fine" was a stretch - Draulin still looked pale, like
someone who had been sick for far too
long.
Y
et, her step
was steady as she walked into the room and joined us.

"Lord
S
medry," she said, going down on one knee.
“I’
ve
failed you."

"Nonsense
,
" I said.

"The Librarian of the
Scrivener’
s Bones captured
me," she said.
"I was caught in a trap, tied up, and he was
able to take me without any trouble.
I have shamed my
order."

I rolled my eyes.
"The rest of us got caught in C
urator
traps too.
W
e were just lucky enough to wiggle out of them
before Kiliman found us.”

Draulin still bowed her head.
O
n the back of her neck,
I caught sight of a sparkling crystal - her Fleshstone,
replaced.

"Get up and stop apologizing,"
I said.
“I’
m serious.
Y
ou
did well.
You forced a confrontation with Kiliman, and we
won that confrontation.
S
o, consider yourself part of our
victory."

Draulin stood up, though she didn't appear appeased.
She fell into her traditional parade-rest stance, looking
straight ahead.
"As you wish, Lord Smedry."

"Mother," Bastille said.

Draulin looked down.

"Here," Bastille said, holding up the Crystin blade.

I blinked in shock. For some reason, I'd been expecting
Bastille to keep that.

Draulin hesitated for a moment, then took the sword.

"Thank you," she said, then sheathed it on her back. "What
are your plans now, Lord Smedry?"

"
I
'm . . . not sure yet
,”
I said.

"Then I will set up a perimeter around this room."
Draulin bowed to me, then walked over to the entrance
and took up a guard position.
Bastille moved toward the
other entrance, but I grabbed her arm.

"That woman should be begging for your forgiveness."

"Why?" Bastille asked.

"You're in so much trouble because you lost your
sword," I said. "Well, Draulin didn't do much better now,
did she?"

"But she got hers back."

"So?"

"So, she didn't break it.”

"Only because of us.”

"No," Bastille said, "because of
y
ou
, Alcatraz.
Kiliman
defeated
me
just like the Alivened in the downtown
Library did. You had to save me both times."

“I
.
. .”

Bastille carefully r
emoved my hand from her arm. “I
appreciate it, Smedry.
I really do.
I'd be dead several times
over if it wasn't for you."

W
ith that, she walked away.
Never before had a thank-
you seemed so despondent to my ears.

Things aren't going to get fixed that easily
, I thought.
Bastille still considers herself a failure.

W
e're going to have to do something about that
.

"You going to destroy that, kid?" Kaz asked.

I glanced down, realizing that I still had Kiliman's
Tracker's Lens in my fingers.

"It's very Dark
O
culary," Kaz said, rubbing his chin.

"Blood-f
orged Lenses are bad business.”

"
W
e should destroy it, then," I said.
“
At least turn it over
to someone who kno
ws what to do with it. I . . .”

I trailed off. (Obviously.)

"What?" Kaz asked.

I didn't answer.
I'd caught something through the
Tr
acker's Lens.
I held it up to my eye and was surprised to
see fo
otprints on the ground. There we
re lots of them, of
course.
Mine, Bastille's, even Kili
m
a
n
's
–
though
those
were fading quickly, since I didn't know hi
m
well.
More
important, however, I saw three sets of f
oo
tprints that were
very distinct.
All led toward a small,
inconspicuous
door
on the far side of the room.

One set of footprints was Grandpa S
medr
y's.
Another
set of yellowish black ones belonged to
my mother
.
The
final set, a blazing red-white, was un
d
oubt
ed
ly that of my
father. All went through the doorway,
but there were
no
sets leading back out.