Makes it remember things that it might have otherwise thought unimportant.
Grandpa Smedry was going to die. Bastille was going to die. Sing was going to die. And strangely, at that very moment I noticed the lantern that still stood on a pole at the center of the room. The lantern holder … it looked something like a rutabaga.
Rutabaga, I thought. I’ve heard that word recently. Rutabaga … fire over the inheritance!
I scrambled forward. Blackburn spun. I threw myself toward the Lenses of Rashid—but I didn’t grab them. I grabbed a Lens sitting next to them.
The Firebringer’s Lens.
Blackburn’s foot came down on my arm. I cried out, dropping the Lens, and a pair of Librarian soldiers quickly grabbed me. They yanked me to my feet and pulled me backward, one holding each of my arms.
Blackburn shook his head. From the corner of my eye, I could barely make out a Librarian finally tackling Bastille. She struggled, but three others helped him hold her.
“My, my, my,” Blackburn said. “And here you all are, captured again.” He looked over at Grandpa Smedry, but the old man was obviously no threat. Grandpa Smedry was dazed, his leg bleeding, his face puffing up from bruises he’d apparently been putting off since his torture.
Blackburn bent down, picking up the Firebringer’s Lens. “A Firebringer’s Lens,” he said. “You should have known better than to try and use one of these against me, boy. I’m far more powerful than you.”
Blackburn turned the Lens over in his fingers. “I’m glad you brought me one, however. There weren’t any in my collection—they’re quite rare.” Then he picked up the Lenses of Rashid. “And these. Supposedly the most powerful Lenses ever forged. Didn’t your son spend his entire life gathering the sands to make these, old Smedry?”
Grandpa Smedry didn’t answer.
“What a waste,” Blackburn said, shaking his head. Then he raised the Firebringer’s Lens to his eye. “Now, we’re going to do this one more time. You are going to start answering my questions, old man. You’re going to tell me the secrets of your order, and you’re going to help me conquer the rest of the Free Kingdoms.”
Blackburn smiled. “If you don’t, I’m going to kill every one of your friends.” He looked around the room. My companions stood, held by Librarian thugs. Only Bastille still struggled—Sing and Quentin looked like they had been punched a few times in the stomach to keep them quiet.
“No,” Blackburn said, “not one of the Smedrys. Your blasted Talents are too protective. Let’s start with the girl.” He smiled, focusing his single eye on Bastille.
“No!” Grandpa Smedry said. “Ask your questions, monster!”
“Not yet, Smedry,” Blackburn said. “I have to kill one of them first, you see. Then you will understand how serious all of this is.”
The Firebringer’s Lens began to glow.
“NO!” Grandpa Smedry screamed.
The Firebringer’s Lens fired …
… directly back into Blackburn’s eye.
Taking advantage of the moment, I twisted with a sudden motion, raising my hands and grabbing the arms of my captors. I sent out shocks of Talent and felt bones snap beneath my fingers. My captors cried out, jumping back and cradling broken limbs. Blackburn dropped the Lenses of Rashid and fell to his knees, and the Firebringer’s Lens tumbled to the ground, leaving a smoking socket behind. He screamed in pain.
I stepped toward the now powerless Dark Oculator. “When I grabbed the Firebringer’s Lens, Blackburn, I wasn’t trying to use it on you,” I said. “You see, I only needed to touch it for a moment—just long enough to break it.
“It shoots backward now.”
Chapter
19
I apologize for that last chapter. It was far too deep and ponderous. At this rate, it won’t be long before this story stops speaking of evil Librarians, and instead turns into a terribly boring tale about a lawyer who defends unjustly accused field hands.
What do mockingbirds have to do with that anyway?
I scooped up the Firebringer’s Lens, spinning toward the thugs who still held my grandfather. The Librarians looked down at the fallen Oculator, then back up at me. I raised the Lens.
The two men dashed away. In the fury of the moment, I didn’t even realize that I’d finally been able to pick up the Lens without it going off.
Grandpa Smedry slumped back against the wall in exhaustion. However, he smiled at me. “Well done, lad. Well done. You’re a Smedry for certain!”
The other thugs in the room backed away, towing their hostages.
“There are two of us now,” Grandpa Smedry said, righting himself, staring down the Librarians. “And your Oculator has fallen. Do you really want to make us mad?”
There was a moment of hesitance, and Bastille seized it. She swung up and slammed her feet into the back of the Librarian in front of her. Then she pulled herself free from her surprised captors.
The other thugs dropped Quentin and Sing, then dashed away. Bastille chased after them, cursing and kicking at one as he rushed out the door. But she let him go, grumbling quietly as she turned to make certain Sing and Quentin were all right. Both seemed well enough.
Blackburn groaned. Grandpa Smedry shook his head, looking down at the Dark Oculator.
“Should we … do something with him?” I asked.
“He’s no threat now, lad,” Grandpa Smedry said. “An Oculator without eyes is about as dangerous as a little girl.”
“Excuse me?” Bastille huffed, rolling over one of the Librarian thugs that she’d knocked out before. She pulled off his sword belt and tied it around her waist.
“I apologize, dear,” Grandpa Smedry said in his tired voice. “It was just a figure of speech. Sing, would you do me a favor?”
Sing rushed over, steadying Grandpa Smedry. “Ah, very nice,” Grandpa Smedry said. “Quentin, gather up any unbroken Lenses you can find. Bastille, be a dear and watch for danger at the door—there are others in this library who won’t be as easily intimidated as those thugs.”
“And me?” I asked.
Grandpa Smedry smiled. “You, lad, should recover your inheritance.”
I turned, noticing the glasses that still lay on the ground. I walked over, picking them up. “Blackburn seemed disappointed in these.”
“Blackburn was a man who focused only on one kind of power,” Grandpa Smedry said. “For a man whose abilities depended on seeing, he was remarkably shortsighted.”
“So … what do these do?” I asked.
“Try them on,” Grandpa Smedry suggested.
I took off my Oculator’s Lenses and put on the Rashid Lenses instead. I couldn’t see any difference—no release of power, no amazing revelations.
“What am I looking for?” I asked.
“Quentin,” Grandpa Smedry said, turning toward the small grad student. “What do you think?”
“I really wouldn’t know,” Quentin said. “The legends are all so contradictory.”
I started. “Hey! I understood him!”
“That’s impossible,” Quentin said, still gathering Lenses off the ground. “I have my Talent on. I’m gibberish for the whole day.”
“Actually, you’re not,” I said. “And you weren’t truly gibberish those other times either. Did you know that your Talent can predict the future?”
Quentin’s jaw dropped. “You can understand me?”
“That’s what I just said. Thanks for the hint about the rutabaga, by the way.”
Quentin turned toward Grandpa Smedry, who was smiling. “No, Quentin,” Grandpa Smedry said. “I still can’t understand you.”
I stood, shocked. What in the world…?
Then I turned, rushing over to Sing’s gym bag, which lay on the side of the room. I unzipped it, digging through the ammunition to find a particular object: the book I’d swiped from the Forgotten Language room.
I opened it up to the first page. The mechanics of forging a Truthfinder’s Lens are complex, it read, bu
t can be understood by one who takes the proper time to study.
I looked up, staring over at Grandpa Smedry. The old man smiled. “There are a lot of different theories about what the Sands of Rashid do, lad. Your father, however, believed in a specific theory. Translator’s Lenses, they were once called—they gave the power to read, or understand, any language, tongue, or code.”