Alcatraz vs. the Shattered Lens (5 page)

Change.

It's important to change. I, for instance, change my underwear every day. Hopefully you do too. If you don't, please stay downwind.

Change is frightening. Few of us ever want things to change. (Well, things other than underwear.) But change is also fascinating - in fact, it's necessary. Just ask Heraclitus.

Heraclitus was a funny little Greek man best known for letting his brother do all of the hard work, for calling people odd names, and for writing lyrics for Disney songs about two thousand years too early for them to be sung. He was quite an expert on change, even going so far as to change from
alive
to
dead
after smearing cow dung on his face. (Er, yes, that last part is true, I'm afraid.)

Heraclitus is the first person we know of to ever gripe about how often things change. In fact, he went so far as to guess that you can never touch the same object twice - because everything and everybody changes so quickly, any object you touch will change into something else before you touch it again.

I suppose that this is true. We're all made of cells, and those are bouncing around, breaking off, dying, changing. If nothing could change, then we wouldn't be able to think, grow, or even breathe. What would be the point? We'd all be about as dynamic as a pile of rocks. (Though, as I think about it, even that pile of rocks is changing moment by moment, as the winds blow and break off atoms.)

So . . . I guess what Heraclitus was saying is that your underpants are always changing, and
technically
you now have on a different pair than you did when you began reading this chapter. So I guess you
don't
have to change them every day.

Sweet! Thanks, philosophy!

I whistled in amazement, hanging upside down from the tree. "Wow! That was
quite
the trip! Aydee, you're a fantastic pilot."

"Thanks!" Aydee said, hanging nearby.

"I mean, I thought thirty-seven chapters' worth of flying would be boring,” I said. "But that was probably the most exciting thing I've been a part of since Grandpa showed up on my doorstep six months ago!”

“I particularly enjoyed the fight with the giant half squid, half wombat," Bastille said.

"You really showed him something!” I said.

"Thanks! I didn't realize he'd be so interested in my stamp collection."

"Yeah, I didn't realize you'd taken so many pictures of people's faces you'd stamped on!”

"Personally," Kaz said, untangling himself from the bushes below, "I preferred the part where we flew up into space."

"We should have done that in book two," Bastille said.

"Then that cover would have made sense."

"There were so many exciting things on this trip,” I said, still swinging in the vines. "It's tough to pick just one as my favorite."

Kaz dusted himself off looking up at me. “Reason number eighty-two why it's better to be a short person: when you plummet to your doom, you don’t fall as far as tall people."

"What?" I said. "Of course you do!”

"Nonsense," Kaz said. "Maybe our
feet
fall as far as yours, but our heads have less distance to fall. So it's less dangerous for us on average."

"I don't think it works that way," Bastille said.

Kaz shrugged. "Anyway, Al, if you ever write your autobiography you’re going to have a real tough time writing out that trip here. I mean . . . words just won't be able to describe how perfectly
awesome
it was."

"I'm sure I'll think of something," I said, letting Bastille help me untangle myself from the vines. I dropped awkwardly to the ground beside Kaz, and then Bastille went to help Aydee get down.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Just outside of Tuki Tuki, by my guess," Kaz said. "I'm certain that rock that knocked down the
Colorfly
was thrown by a Librarian machine. I'll go scout for a moment. Wait here."

Kaz moved off into the bushes, pulling out his machete. He didn't - thankfully - engage his Talent. I made sure to keep an eye on him as he walked out toward the sunlit ridge in the near distance. We were in a dense, tropical jungle arrayed with a large number of flowers hanging from vines, sprouting from trees, and blooming at our feet. Insects buzzed around, moving from flower to flower, and didn't seem to have any interest in me or the others.

The flight had taken a long time, but it had seemed to pass remarkably quickly, considering how busy we’d been with wombats, outer space, and stamp collections. It seemed like just a few moments ago that we'd left Nalhalla, yet now here we were, hours of flying later, in Mokia. In fact, those chapters were so fast, so quick, so exciting, it almost feels like I skipped writing them.

Good thing I didn't, though. That would have been pretty stoopid of me, eh?

Aydee sighed as Bastille helped her down. “I’m going to miss that ship."

"You know," I said, "that's the third time I’ve been up in one of those glass ships, and it's
also
the third time I’ve crash-landed. I'm beginning to think that they aren’t very safe.”

"Of course there
couldn't
be another explanation,” Bastille said dryly.

"What do you mean?”

"I've flown in them hundreds of times,” Bastille said. “And the only three times
I've
crash-landed, I’ve been flying with you."

“Oh,” I said, scratching my head.

"I'm going to have to travel with you more often, cousin!" Aydee said. "I
never
get shot down when I fly on my own!"

It appeared that Aydee had inherited the characteristic Smedry sense of adventure. I eyed my diminutive cousin. We hadn't had much of a chance to talk, despite the lengthy flight - we'd had to spend too much time dodging war koalas while building a new lighthouse for underprivileged children. (You might want to reread Chapters Five through Forty-One to relive the adventure of it all.)

I reached out to her. "I don't believe I've properly introduced myself. I'm Alcatraz.”

“Aydee Ecks," she said energetically. "Is it true you have the Breaking Talent?"

"The one and only,” I said. "It's not everything it's cracked up to be."

“No," Bastille added, "
everything else
is what it cracks up.”

"What's your Talent?" I asked Aydee, shooting a dry look at Bastille.

"I'm really bad at math!" she proclaimed.

By now I was getting used to Smedry Talents. I'd met family members who were magically bad at dancing, others who were great at looking ugly in the morning. Being bad at math . . . well, that just seemed to fit right in. "Congratulations," I said. "That sounds useful.”

Aydee beamed.

Kaz came traipsing back a few moments later, his pack slung on his shoulder. "Yup," he said, “we’re here. The capital city is just a short hike down that direction, but there’s a full Librarian blockade set up around the place.”

"Great," I said.

The others looked to me, expecting me to take the lead. Partially because of my lineage, but also because I’d organized this trip. It was still odd to be in charge, but I’d taken the lead a number of times now. Though it had originally bothered me, I was getting used to it. (Kind of how listening to really loud music a lot will slowly make your hearing worse.)

"All right," I said, kneeling down. “Let’s go over our resources. Bastille, what do you have?”

"Sword," she said, patting the sheath at her side. “Dagger. Warrior's Lenses. Glassweave outfit." Her militaristic trousers and jacket were made of a special kind of defensive glass; they could take a pounding and leave her unharmed.

She pulled her stylish sunglasses out of her pocket and put them on. They'd enhance her physical abilities.

"Kaz?"

"I've got a pair of Warrior's Lenses too," he said. He patted his pack. "I've got my sling to throw rocks, and some standard gear. Rope, a couple of throwing knives, a grappling hook, flares, and snacks."

"Snacks?"

"Pop taught me never to rescue a near-doomed allied kingdom on an empty stomach."

"Wise man, my grandfather," I said. “Aydee, what do you have?"

“A bubbly, infectious personality!" she said. “And a cute flower in my hair."

"Excellent." I fished around in my pocket. "I've got my standard Oculator's Lenses,” I said, "along with my Translator's Lenses and one Truthfinder's Lens." The former had been given to me by my father; the latter I'd discovered in the tomb of Alcatraz the First. Neither were very powerful in battle, but they could be useful in other ways.

As I fished in the pockets of my jacket, I was shocked to discover something else. A pouch that hadn’t been there before, at least not in the morning when I'd gotten dressed. I pulled it out, frowning, then undid the laces at the top.

Inside were two pairs of Lenses. They glowed powerfully to my eyes, as I was wearing my Oculator's Lenses.

I took the new Lenses out. One had a baby blue tint to them. I'd used these before; they were called Courier’s Lenses. The other Lenses had a green-and-purple tint.

“Wow," Bastille said, snatching the second pair from my hand, holding them up. "Alcatraz, where did you get
these
?"

"I have no idea," I said, looking inside the pouch. There appeared to be a little note tucked into it. “What are they?”

"Bestower's Lenses," she said, sounding just a bit awed. "They're very powerful."

I got the note out, unfolding it.
You called me once with a set of Courier's Lenses when you weren’t supposed to be able to, the note said. Give it a try again.

It was signed Grandpa Smedry.

I hesitated, then pulled off my Oculator's Lenses and put on the Courier's Lenses. They were supposed to be able to work over only short distances, but I was discovering that there were a lot of things about Lenses and silimatic glass that didn’t work the way everyone said they did.

I concentrated, doing something I'd only recently learned to do, giving extra power to the Lenses. Static fuzzed in my ears. And then, an image of Grandpa Smedry's face appeared in front of me, hovering in the air. It was faintly translucent.

Ha
! Grandpa's voice said in my ears.
Alcatraz, my boy, you really
can
do it
!

"Yeah," I said. The others gave me odd looks, but I tapped the glasses.

You found the Lenses, I presume
? Grandpa asked.

“I did," I replied. "How'd you get them into my pocket?"

Oh, I've been known to practice a little sleight of hand in my day, my boy, he said. I'd been meaning to give you those Lenses for some time. Make good use of them. I'm sure dear Bastille can tell you how to use them. Ha! The lass seems to know more about my Lenses sometimes than I do! Are you in
Mokia yet?

"We've arrived at Tuki Tuki," I said. "I've got Kaz with me, and my cousin Aydee."

Excellent, lad, excellent. I'm working on the knights. I’ve almost got them in agreement to come with me to “rescue” you. But they're not convinced that you're in danger. They think that you tricked them and didn't really fly to Moki - you just acted like it to try to get them to go join the war.

"Wow," I said. “As I think about it, that might have been a pretty good idea."

Except for the fact that we'll need to prove to them where you are, Grandpa said. Your cousin Aydee was in town dropping off a bit of Communicator's Glass. The other piece is in the palace, with Bastille's sister, the queen. If you can contact the Mokian embassy in
Nalha
l
la
through it, that will prove that you're there in Mokia. They won't take my word on it with the Courier's Lenses, but if you contact the embassy, the knights will have no choice but to come defend you.

"All right," I said.

This will be dangerous, lad, Grandpa said. I don t want you getting hurt.

"But that's the Smedry way!" I said, imitating him.

Ha! Well, so it is. But surviving is also the Smedry way. Get in, contact the embassy, and then lay low. Don't go fight on the
battlefield
yourself. Understand?

"Clear as glass," I said.

What kind of glass?
Grandpa asked.

"The transparent kind," I said. "I'll let you know once we're inside."

Good lad.

His face vanished, and I felt an overwhelming fatigue. I stumbled over to a moss-covered stone and sat down, exhausted.

"Alcatraz,” Bastille said, "was your grandfather still in Nalhalla?"

I nodded.

"But . . . you shouldn't be able to . . ."

"I know, Bastille," I said. "That's probably why I'm so tired. Impossible things are really rough to do, you know."

She looked troubled.

"Hey!" Kaz exclaimed suddenly, looking through his pack. "I forgot that I stuffed these in here." He pulled out some colored teddy bears.

“Oh!" Aydee said, squealing and running over to snatch them up.

“Aydee!" I said, standing. "Wait! Those are grenades!"

"I know,” she said enthusiastically. "I
love
grenades!"

Yes, she's a Smedry all right.

"How many do you have?" I asked.

"One of each of the main three kinds," Kaz said.

"So, six?" Aydee said.

"Uh," I said. “Actually, one plus one plus one is . . ." I trailed off as, suddenly, Aydee was holding not three, but
six
bears.

"One plus one plus one," she proclaimed. "Six, right?"

I blinked.
She’s
bad at math
. . . Her Talent, it appears, had
forced
the world to match her powers of addition.

"Don't correct her, Al," Kaz said, chuckling. “At least not when her bad math is in our favor. Nice work, Aydee."

"But what did I do?" she said, confused, handing back the exploding bears.

"Nothing,” Kaz said, tucking the bears in his pack.

Aydee was young enough that she hadn't learned to control her Talent yet - and I couldn't really blame her for that, since I barely had mine under control myself. Her Talent would be hard to control anyway, since she could only make mathematical miracles when she legitimately calculated wrong in her head.

"Alcatraz, are you all right?" Bastille asked.

I nodded, still feeling tired but forcing myself to my feet. "Come on. I want to see what we’re up against.”

Kaz led the way over to the ridge. We walked up to it, looking out of the jungle over a daunting sight.

Beneath us, the forest had been trampled to the ground. The black tents of an enormous army were pitched amid the stumps of trees, and the smoke of a hundred fires rose into the sky. The army encircled a small hilltop city made entirely of wooden huts, with a wooden-stake wall around the outside. It looked small and fragile, but it had some kind of shield around it - a bubble of glass, like a translucent dome. That glass was cracked and broken in several places.

The army was bad enough. However, the things that stood behind it were even more daunting - three enormous robots dressed like Librarians, holding enormous swords on their shoulders.

"Giant robots," I said. "They have
giant robots
.”

"Er, yes," Kaz said. "That's what threw the rock at us."

“Why didn't anyone shattering
tell
me they had giant robots!"

The others shrugged.

"Maybe we're fighting for the wrong side," I said.

"We're fighting for what is right,” Kaz said.