Read Alcatraz versus the Evil Librarians Online
Authors: Brandon Sanderson
Alcatraz versus the Evil Librarians (21 page)
Roy handed me over to her. She grabbed me in a tight embrace.
“When the caseworker called,” Roy said, “asking where you’d gone… well, we assumed you’d run off for good, kiddo.”
“You didn’t get into trouble, did you?” Joan asked, looking at me sternly.
I shrugged. “I don’t know. I knocked down two floors, one wall, and a few doors, I think. Nothing too bad.”
Joan and Roy shared a look, then smiled, and took me in.
Hours later, after giving them some reasonable lies about where I’d been, after having a good meal, and after accepting their pleas that I stay with them for at least a little while longer, I walked up to my room.
I sat down on my bed, trying to think through the things that had happened to me. Oddly, I didn’t find the Librarians, the Alivened, or the Lenses to be the most strange of the recent events. The strangest things to me were the changes I saw in myself.
I
cared
. And it had all happened because of a simple package in the mail…
My head snapped up. There, sitting on my desk, was the empty box, beside its brown wrapper. I stood and walked across the room. I flattened out the packaging noting the stamp that I’d investigated, the address written in faded ink… and the scribbles up the side of the paper. The ones I’d assumed had come from someone trying to get the ink in his pen to flow.
With trembling hands, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Translator’s Lenses – the Lenses of Rashid. I slipped them on. The scribble immediately changed into legible words.
Son,
Congratulations! If you can read this, then you have managed to craft Lenses of Rashid from the sands I sent you. I knew you’d be able to do it!
I must tell you that I am afraid. I fear that I’ve stumbled on something powerful – something more important, and more dangerous, than any of us expected. The Lenses of Rashid were only the beginning! The Forgotten Language leads to clues, stories, legends about the Smedry Talents and –
Well, I can’t say more here. By the time you get this package, much time will have passed. Thirteen years. Perhaps I’ll have solved the problem by then, but I suspect not. The Lenses that let me see where you will be living at age thirteen have also given me a warning that my task will not be done by then. But I can only see vaguely into the future – the Oracle’s Lenses are far from perfect! What I see makes me even more worried.
Once I have confirmation that this box reached you without being intercepted, I will send you further information. I have the other set of Rashid Lenses – with them, I can write in the Forgotten Language, and only you will be able to read my messages.
For now, simply know that I’m proud of you, and that I love you.
Your father,
Attica Smedry
I put the paper down, stunned. It was at that moment that I heard a rapping on my window. Instead of a raven outside, however, I saw the mustached face of Grandpa Smedry.
I frowned, walking over and opening the window. Grandpa Smedry stood on a ladder that appeared to have extended from the back of his little black automobile.
“Grandpa?” I asked. “What are you doing here?”
“What?” he asked. “I came for you, as promised.”
“As promised?” I asked. “But you only left me a few hours ago.”
“Yes, yes,” Grandpa Smedry said. “I know, I’m late. Come on, lad! We’ve got work to do. Are you packed yet?”
Grandpa Smedry began to climb back down the ladder.
“Wait,” I said, sticking my head out the window. “Packed? I thought I was staying here with Joan and Roy!”
“What?” Grandpa Smedry said, looking back up. “Edible Eddings, boy! This city is crawling with Librarians. It was dangerous enough to give you a chance to come back and say good-bye!”
“But you said I had to spend some time with them!”
“A few hours, lad,” Grandpa Smedry said, “to apologize for the trouble you’d given them. What did you expect? That I’d leave you here all summer, in the exact place where your enemies know where to look? With people that aren’t even your family? In a place you don’t really like, and that is depressing normal compared to the world you’ve grown to love? Doesn’t that sound a little stupid and contrived to you?”
I raised my hand to my head. “Yeah,” I noted, “now that you mention it, who
would
do something silly like that? Let me go get my things and write a note to Joan and Roy. Oh, and you have to see what’s written on this package!”
I rushed back into the room, pulling out a gym bag to begin packing. Outside, I heard Grandpa Smedry’s car hum quietly to life.
I smiled. Everything felt right. Weird, true, but
right
.
It was about time.
SO, THAT’S HOW IT BEGAN. NOT AS SPECTACULAR AS SOME HAVE CLAIMED, I KNOW, BUT IT FELT INCREDIBLE ENOUGH TO ME AT THE TIME.
NOW, I’LL BE THE FIRST TO ADMIT THAT THOSE FIRST COUPLE OF DAYS HAD A PROFOUND EFFECT ON ME, SHAKING ME SLIGHTLY OUT OF THE SELF-INDULGENT REBELLIOUSNESS THAT I HAD FALLEN INTO. THE THING IS, IF I COULD GO BACK, I’D STILL TELL MYSELF NOT TO GO WITH GRANDPA SMEDRY ON THAT STRANGE, UNFORTUNATE DAY.
THE THINGS I LEARNED DURING THAT FIRST INFILTRATION – TRUST, SELF-CONFIDENCE, BRAVERY – MIGHT SEEM GOOD AT FIRST GLANCE. HOWEVER, THE CHANGES I EXPERIENCED WERE JUST SETTING ME UP FOR MY EVENTUAL FALL. YOU’LL SEE WHAT I MEAN.
FOR NOW, I HOPE THIS NARRATIVE WAS ENOUGH TO SHOW THAT EVEN SUPPOSED HEROES HAVE FLAWS. LET THIS BE YOUR WARNING – I’M NOT THE PERSON THAT YOU THINK I AM. YOU’LL SEE.
WITH REGRET,
ALCATRAZ SMEDRY
And so, untold millions screamed out in pain, and then were suddenly silenced. I hope you’re happy.
(This last was included for anyone who skipped forward to read the last page of the book. For the rest of you – the ones who reached the last page in the proper, honorable, and Smedry-approved manner – those untold millions are cheering in praise of your honesty.
They’ll probably throw you a party.)
“Brandon Sanderson” is the pen name of Alcatraz Smedry. His Hushlander editor forced him to use a pseudonym, since these memoirs are being published as fiction.
Alcatraz actually knows a person named Brandon Sanderson. That man, however, is a fantasy writer, and is therefore prone to useless bouts of delusion in literary form. Alcatraz has it on good authority that Brandon Sanderson is actually illiterate and dictates his thick, overly long fantasy tomes to his potted plant, Count Duku.
It is widely assumed that Brandon went mad several years ago, but few people can tell because his writing is so strange anyway. He spends his time going to science fiction movies, eating popcorn and goat cheese (separately), and trying to warn people about the dangers of the Great Kitten Conspiracy.
He’s had his library card revoked on seventeen different occasions.
Thanks to my agents, Joshua Bilmes (who single-handedly transformed this manuscript from being a whimsical idea into a full-blown super-project) and Steve Mancino, who exceeded my expectations wildly in finding the book a home.
And, speaking of that home, Anica Rissi – my editor at Scholastic – took fantastic care of this book, helping make it the best book possible. Her tireless work is well appreciated, and the same goes for all of the wonderful people over at Scholastic.
As for alpha readers, I’d like to thank Stacy Whitman, Heather Kirby, Kristina Kugler, Peter and Karen Ahlstrom, Kaylynn ZoBell, Isaac Thegn Skarstedt, Ethan S
k
arstedt
, Leif Ethan Skarstedt, Benjamin R. Olsen, Matisse Hales, Lauren Sanderson, Alan Layton, Janette Layton, Nathan Hatfield, Krista Olsen, C. Lee Player, Eric J. Ehlers, and Emily Sanderson. Special thanks to my grandmother, Beth Sanderson, for suggestion this project.
Also, I’d like to give a special acknowledgment to Janci Patterson who worked tirelessly to slay the typ
o
demons in this manuscript. (Not that I didn’t manage to sneak a few more in afterward.)
Finally, a thanks to all of the evil librarians out there. It’s partially their fault that I ended up being a writer instead of something useful, like a plumber o
r
a foghorn repair technician. It’s poetic justice that I would now use my nefarious talent to expos
e
you all for what you really are.
Brandon Sanderson