"Okay."
Grandpa Smedry fished in one of the pockets of his tuxedo jacket. "Here, you might want this back." He held out a single Lens with no coloring or tint to it. It glowed radiantly to my Oculator's eyes, more powerfully than any I'd ever seen except for the Translator's Lenses.
I'd almost forgotten about it. I'd discovered the Lens in the Library of Alexandria at the tomb of Alcatraz the First, but hadn't been able to determine what it did. I'd given it over to my grandfather for inspection.
"Did you figure out what it does?" I asked, taking it from him.
He nodded eagerly. "There were lots of tests I had to do. I meant to tell you yesterday but, well . . ."
"You're late."
"Exactly!" Grandpa Smedry said. “Anyway, this is a very useful Lens. Useful indeed. Almost mythical. Couldn't believe it myself, had to test the thing three times before I was convinced."
I grew excited, imagining the Lens summoning the spirits of the dead to fight at my side. Or, instead, perhaps it would make people explode in a wave of red smoke if I focused it on them. Red smoke rocks.
"So what does it do?"
"It allows you to see when someone is telling the truth."
That wasn't exactly what I'd been expecting.
"Yes," Grandpa Smedry said. “A Truthfinder's Lens. I never thought I'd hold one myself. Quite remarkable!"
"I . . . don't suppose it makes people explode when they tell lies?"
“Afraid not, lad."
"No red smoke?”
"No red smoke."
I sighed and tucked the Lens away anyway. It did seem useful, though after discovering it hidden in the tomb, I'd really been hoping for some kind of weapon.
"Don't look so glum, lad," Grandpa Smedry said. "I don't think you understand the gem you hold in your pocket. That Lens could prove extremely useful to you over the next few days. Keep it close."
I nodded. "I don't suppose you have another pair of Firebringer's Lenses you could loan me?"
He chuckled. "Didn't do enough damage with the last pair, eh? I don't have any more of those, but . . . here, let me see." He fished around inside his tuxedo jacket again. “Ah!” he said, whipping out a pair of Lenses. They glowed with a modest light and had a violet tint.
That's right, violet. I wondered if the people who forge Oculatory Lenses try to make us all look like pansies, or if that was just accidental.
"What are they?" I asked.
"Disguiser's Lenses," Grandpa Smedry said. "Put them on, focus on the image of someone in your head, and the Lenses will disguise you to look like that person."
It seemed pretty cool. I took the Lenses appreciatively. "Can they make me look like other things? Like, say, a rock?"
"I guess," Grandpa Smedry said. "Though that rock would have to be wearing glasses. The Lenses appear in any disguise you use."
That made them less powerful, but I figured I'd come up with a way to use them. "Thanks," I said.
"I might have some other offensive Lenses I can dig up later when I get back to the keep" Grandpa Smedry said." I suspect that we'll deliberate here for another two or three hours before adjourning until the vote this evening. It's about ten right now; let's meet back at Keep Smedry in three hours to share information, all right?"
"All right."
Grandpa Smedry winked at me. "See you this afternoon, then. If you break anything important, be sure to blame it on Draulin! It'll be good for her."
I nodded, and we parted ways.
CHAPTER 5
It's time for me to talk about someone other than myself. Please don't be too heartbroken; once in a while, we need to discuss somebody who is not quite as charming, intelligent, or impressive as I am.
That's right, it's time to talk about you.
Occasionally, while infiltrating the Hushlands, I run across enterprising young people who want to resist Librarian control of their country. You ask me what you can do to fight. Well, I have three answers for you.
First, make sure you buy lots and lots and lots of copies of my books. There are plenty of uses for them (I'll discuss this in a bit) and for every one you buy, we donate money to the Alcatraz Smedry Wildlife Fund for Buying Alcatraz Smedry Cool Stuff.
The second thing you can do isn't quite as awesome, but it's still good. You can read.
Librarians control their world via information. Grandpa Smedry says that information is a far better weapon than any sword or Oculatory Lens, and I'm beginning to think he might be right. (Though the kitten chain saw I discussed in book two is a close second.)
The best way to fight the Librarians is to read a lot of books. Everything you can get your hands on. Then do the third thing I'm going to tell you about.
Buy lots of copies of my books.
Oh, wait. Did I already mention that? Well, then, there are four things you can do. But this intro is already too long. I'll tell you about the last one later. Know, however, that it involves popcorn.
"Okay," I said, turning to Bastille. "How do I find this Folsom guy?"
"I don't know," she said flatly, pointing. "Maybe ask his mom, who is standing right there?"
Oh, right, I thought. Quentin's brother, that makes Pattywagon his mother.
She was talking animatedly (which is how she always talks) with Sing. I waved to Bastille, but she hesitated.
"What?" I asked.
"My mission is officially over," she said, grimacing and glancing toward Draulin. "I need to report at Crystallia." Draulin had made her way toward the exit of the room, and she was regarding Bastille in that way of hers that was somehow both insistent and patient.
"What about your father?" I said, glancing in the direction he and Grandpa Smedry had disappeared. "He barely got time to see you two."
"The kingdom takes precedence over everything else."
That sounded like a rehearsed line to me. Probably something Bastille had heard a lot when growing up.
"Okay'' I said. "Well, uh, I'll see you, then."
“Yeah.”
I braced myself for another hug (known in the in
dustry as a "teenage boy forced reboot") but she just stood there, then cursed under her breath and hurried out after her mother. I was left trying to figure out just when things between us had grown so awkward.
(I was tempted to think back on all the good times we had spent together. Bastille smacking me in the face with her handbag. Bastille kicking me in the chest. Bastille making fun of something dumb I'd said. I would probably have a good case for abuse if I hadn't also (1) broken her sword, (2) kicked her first, and (3) been so awesome.)
Feeling strangely abandoned, I stepped up to my aunt Patty.
"You done being affectionate with the young knight there?" she asked me. "Cute thing, isn't she?"
"What's this?" Sing said. "Did I miss something?"
"Urk!" I said, blushing. "No, nothing!"
"I'm sure," Patty said, winking at me.
"Look, I need to find your son Folsom!"
"Hum. Whatcha need him for?"
"Important Smedry business."
*Well, it's a good thing I'm an important Smedry, then, isn't it!"
She had me there. "Grandpa wants me to ask about what the Librarians have been doing in town since he left."
"Well, why didn't you say so?" Patty said.
"Because . . . well, I . . ."
"Slowness of thought," Patty said consolingly. "It's okay, hon. Your father isn't all that bright either. Well, let's go find Folsom, then! See ya, Sing!"
I reached for Sing, hoping he wouldn't abandon me to this awful woman, but he had already turned to go with some other people, and Patty had me by the arm.