Grandpa Smedry shook his head. “Those sands will be forged into Lenses before the day is out. Our only chance – the world’s only chance – is to get them before that happens.”
I nodded slowly. “Then I’m going,” I said. “You can’t leave me behind.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Grandpa Smedry said. Then he glanced up at the wall where I had broken it. “You do that?”
I nodded again.
“Nagging Nixes! You really do have quite the skill for breaking things,” Grandpa Smedry said. “Must have been hard for you when you were younger.”
I shrugged.
“What kinds of things can you break?” Grandpa Smedry asked.
“All kinds of things,” I said. “Doors, electronics, tables. Once I broke a chicken.”
“A chicken?”
I nodded. “It was on a field trip. I got… kind of frustrated, and I picked up a chicken. When I put it down, it immediately lost all of its feathers, and from then on refused to eat anything but cat food.”
“Breaking living things…” Grandpa Smedry mumbled to himself. “Extraordinary. Untamed, yes, but extraordinary nonetheless…”
I pointed at the building, hoping to change the subject. “It’s a glass box.”
“Yes,” Grandpa Smedry said. “Expander’s Glass – if you make space inside of it, you can push out the walls inside without pushing out the walls on the outside.”
“That’s impossible. It disobeys the laws of physics.” (We Hushlanders pay a lot of attention to physics.)
“That’s just Librarian talk,” Grandpa Smedry said. “You’ve got a lot to learn, lad. Come on, we need to get moving. We’re late!”
I allowed myself to be led away, past the three bullet holes in the siding. “They missed,” I said, almost to myself. “It’s a good thing that man had such bad aim.”
Grandpa Smedry laughed. “Bad aim! He didn’t have a chance of hitting me. I arrived late to every shot. Your Talent can do some great things, my boy, but it’s not the only powerful ability around! I’ve been arriving late to my own death since before you were born. In fact, once I was so late to an appointment that I got there before I left!”
I paused, trying to work through that last statement, but Grandpa Smedry waved me on. We rounded the building. Quentin and Sing stood with one of the station attendants, talking quietly. Sing had a good dozen different guns strapped to his body. He wore two holsters on each leg, one holster around each upper arm, and one underneath each arm. These were complemented by a couple of uzis tucked into his sash, and what looked like a shotgun tied to his back in kind of swordlike fashion.
“Oh, dear,” Grandpa Smedry said. “He’s not supposed to show them off like that, is he?”
“Um, no,” I said.
Could we peace bond them, you think?”
“I don’t know what that is,” I said, “but I doubt it would help.” Still, after getting shot at, the sight of Sing with all those weapons did make me feel a little more comfortable. Until I realized that, if we were going to be bringing an arsenal like that, what would our enemies have?
“Ah, well,” Grandpa Smedry said. “I already told him he could bring them. We can hide them in a bag or something. They’re really not that dangerous – it’s not like he’s got a sword or something. Anyway, we need to get moving, we’re –“
“-- late,” I said. “Yes, I know.”
“Good, then let’s –“
At this point, you should be very annoyed with people getting interrupted midsentence. I assure you that I feel the same way. In fact, I think –
A silver sports car screeched into the parking lot. Its windows were tinted the deepest black – even the windshield – and it had a sleek, ominous design, the make and model of which I couldn’t quite place. It was like every spy car I’d ever seen melded into one.
The door burst open, and a girl – about my age – jumped out. Her hair was silvery, matching the car’s paint, and she wore a fashionable black skirt and silver jacket, and carried a black handbag.
She appeared to be very, very angry.
“Smedry!” she snapped, swatting her purse at Sing as he moved too slowly to get out of her way.