I stood awkwardly for some time. The others crowded around me, looking through the mirror, waiting. Finally, Grandpa returned with several people dressed in full plate armor. One was Draulin, Bastille’s mother. The other two were older-looking men.
‘Alcatraz, tell them where you are,’ Grandpa Smedry said from somewhere to the side.
‘I’m in Tuki Tuki,’ I said.
‘You should leave there immediately,’ Draulin said sternly. ‘It is not safe, Lord Smedry.’
‘Yes, I know,’ I said. ‘But you know us Smedrys. Crazy, without any regard for our own safety!’
One of the knights frowned. ‘This does indeed offer the proof the elder Lord Smedry promised,’ he said.
‘I sense we are being manipulated,’ the other said, shaking his head. ‘I do not like the feel of it.’
Draulin remained quiet during the conversation. She seemed to be studying me carefully with those dark eyes of hers.
A thought occurred to me. They needed motivation to come help. Making a snap judgment, I turned the hand mirror around, shining it on Mallo. ‘Guess who’s here with me?’ I said to the knights.
Mallo looked shocked. ‘Alcatraz! What are you doing?’
‘Trust me,’ I said.
‘It’s a Mokian warrior,’ one of the knights said. ‘I feel for his plight, but the rules of our order are—’
‘Wait,’ Draulin’s voice said suddenly. There was a silence, followed by her saying, ‘Your . . . Majesty?’
Mallo sighed visibly, shooting me a glare. ‘Yes, it is I.’
‘You are supposed to be safe!’
‘I will not abandon my people,’ Mallo said.
I spun the mirror around. ‘So, it’s not just a couple of foolish Smedrys, but the Mokian royal line who are in danger here. You should . . .’
The image of the glass started to grow turbulent, ripples moving through it. I frowned, shaking the mirror.
‘. . . can’t . . . what . . . doing . . .’ Draulin’s voice said. ‘What . . .?’
‘I can’t see you either,’ I said to them.
The others in the room crowded around. I lowered the mirror so all could see.
‘That doesn’t look good,’ Kaz said, rubbing his chin.
‘This was supposed to last at least twenty days,’ Mallo said. ‘We—’
‘General Mallo!’ a voice cried. We turned as a young Mokian girl ran up the front steps to the palace and entered the main chamber.
‘What is it?’ Mallo asked, turning sharply.
‘The Librarian army,’ the girl said. ‘They’re doing something, something big. You should come see.’
1010
Okay, I can’t help myself. I’ve written three and a half books. I held my tongue. (Figuratively, unlike that guy back in Act V.) But I’m about to burst.
It is time to talk about religion in the Hushlands.
You Free Kingdomers may be confused by Hushlander religions. After all, they are all so very different, and their followers are all so very good at yelling at one another loudly that it’s hard to tell what any of them are saying. However, should you infiltrate Librarian nations and need to imitate a Hushlander, you’ll probably need to join one of their religions to blend in. Therefore, I’ve prepared this handy guide.
Religions, in the Hushlands, are basically about food.
That’s right, food. In following one religion or another, you end up boycotting certain foods. If you become Hindu, for instance, you give up beef. Mormons give up alcohol and coffee. Catholics can eat pretty much whatever they want, but have to give up the stuff they like the most for one month a year, while Muslims give up all food during the daytime hours of Ramadan.
So which religion is the best? Well, it depends. In my cultivated opinion, I’d suggest Judaism.
But that’s because I prefer the path of yeast resistance.
We stood atop the wooden palisade wall of Tuki Tuki watching the gigantic Librarian robots drive large, glowing rods into the ground. They shone blue in the night and were as tall as buildings. They illuminated the Librarian war camp, which was far more active now. Men and women had been awakened and were collecting their weapons and forming up battle lines.
‘What are they?’ Angola asked.
‘They look like some kind of glass device,’ Aydee said.
‘No,’ Kaz said. He stood atop a step stool and looked out at the Librarian camp, rubbing his chin. ‘This war is being led by the Order of the Shattered Lens.’
‘Who?’ I asked.
Bastille rolled her eyes at my ignorance.
‘The Shattered Lens is a Librarian sect, Al,’ Kaz said. He was a scholar of Talents, Oculatory Distortions, and – by extension – Librarians. ‘You’ve met the Dark Oculators, the Scrivener’s Bones, and the Wardens of the Standard. Well, the Shattered Lens is the last of them. And probably the largest. The other orders accept, even use, silimatic technology and Oculatory Lenses. These guys, though . . .’
‘They don’t?’ I asked.
‘They hate all forms of glass.’ Kaz said. ‘They take Biblioden’s teaching very literally. He didn’t like anything “strange” like magic or silimatics. Most of the orders interpret his teachings as meaning “Lenses and glasses need to be controlled very carefully, so only the important can use them.” Those Librarians hide the truth from most Hushlanders, but have no qualms about using Free Kingdomer technology and ideas when they can benefit from them.
‘The Order of the Shattered Lens is different. Very different. They feel that Lenses and silimatic glasses should never be used, not even by Librarians. They think Free Kingdom technology is evil and disgusting.’
I nodded slowly. ‘So those piles of glass we passed while running into the city?’
‘They hold glass-breakings,’ Angola said softly. ‘They gather together in groups and smash pieces of glass. Even regular glass, with no kind of Oculatory or silimatic abilities. It’s symbolic to them.’
‘The other Librarians let them run the wars,’ Kaz added. ‘Partially, I suspect, to keep them away. There will be trouble within the Librarian ranks if the Free Kingdoms ever do fall. The Order of the Shattered Lens works with the Dark Oculators and the Scrivener’s Bones for now. There’s a bigger enemy to fight. But once we’re gone, there will likely be civil war as the orders struggle for dominance.’
‘Civil war across the entire world,’ Bastille said softly, nodding. ‘The four Librarian sects using people as their pawns. The Shattered Lens trying to hunt down and kill Dark Oculators, the Wardens of the Standard trying to manipulate things with coolheaded politics, the Scrivener’s Bones working for whomever will pay them the most . . .’
We fell silent. That army outside was large; I glanced back at the city. There didn’t seem to be many Mokian soldiers. Perhaps five or six thousand, both men and women. The Librarians had easily four times that number, and they are armed with futuristic guns. The enormous robots continued their work, planting the rods in the ground. They were making a ring of them, encircling the city.
Faced by such daunting numbers, I finally began to realize what I’d gotten myself into. And that’s when I invented the term stoopidanated, meaning ‘about as stoopid as Alcatraz Smedry, the day he snuck into Tuki Tuki just in time to be there when it got overwhelmed by Librarians.’
It’s a very specific word, I know. Odd how many times I’ve been able to use it in my life.
‘So the rods aren’t glass,’ I said. ‘What are they, then?’
‘Plastic,’ Bastille guessed. ‘Some sort of glass-disrupting technology? That might be what’s making the Communicator’s Glass stop working.’
‘Might just be for light, though,’ Aydee said. ‘Look. Those rods are bright enough that the Librarians can move about as if it were day. They look like they’re getting ready to attack.’ She shrank down a little bit on her stool, as if to hide behind the wall.
Something occurred to me. I pulled the Courier’s Lenses out of my pocket and slid them on.
Now, it might seem odd to you Hushlanders that we had so many different ways of talking to one another over a distance. But if you think about it, this makes sense. How many different ways do we have in the Hushlands? Telephone, fax, telegraph, VoIP, e-mail, regular mail, radio, shouting really loud, bottles with notes in them, texting, blimps with advertisements on them, skywriting, voodoo boards, smoke signals, etc.
Communicating with one another is a basic human need. And communicating with people far away is an even more basic human need, because that way we can make fun of people and they can’t kick us in the face.
By the way, have I mentioned how ugly that shirt is? Yeah. Next time, please try to dress up a little bit when you read my books. Someone might see you, and I have a reputation to maintain.
I concentrated, feeding power into my Lenses, questing out for my grandfather. His face appeared in front of me, but it was fuzzy and indistinct.
Alcatraz, lad! Grandpa said. I was hoping you’d use the Courier’s Lenses. What’s happening? Why doesn’t the Communicator’s Glass work?
‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘The Librarians are doing something outside the city – planting these glowing rods in the ground. That might have something to do with it.’
Even as I spoke, one of the robots placed another of the rods. When it did, my grandfather’s form fuzzed even more.
‘Grandpa,’ I said urgently. ‘Did we convince the knights?’
Think . . . enough . . . help . . . Grandpa said, his voice cutting in and out. They know . . . king still . . . save His Majesty . . . ‘I can’t understand you!’ I said. Another robot raised a rod into the air, preparing to place it.
I raised my hands to the side of the glasses, focusing everything I had into the Lenses. I strained, teeth gritted. Shockingly, the glass started to glow, forcing me to close my eyes as they blazed alight. My grandfather’s voice, once weak, surged back, audible again.
. . . Luring Lovecrafts, what a mess! I said I’ve nearly got them persuaded. I’ll bring them, lad, and anyone else I can get to come. We’ll be there. Hold out until morning! Can you hear me, Alcatraz? Morning’s first light. Er. Well, no, I’ll be late. And that’s been done before. But morning’s second light, for certain. By third light at the latest, I promise!
The robot planted the rod. My grandfather’s voice fuzzed again, and I tried another surge of power, but I’d pushed it too far. My Talent slipped through, mixing with my Oculatory power. I had trouble keeping the two separate; they were like two brightly different colors of paint, mixing and churning inside of me. Use one, and some of the other always wanted to come along.
The Talent surged through my hands before I realized what I was doing, and the frames of the Lenses shattered, dropping the bits of glass off my eyes. I caught them clumsily. Unfortunately, after feeling that resistance, I knew that they wouldn’t work again – not as long as those Librarian rods were interfering. I reluctantly slipped the Lenses back in my pocket.