“One guard,” Bastille said. “Warrior.”
I nodded, then took a deep breath and walked up to the front of the cell. I put one hand on the bars and activated my Talent.
Or, at least, I tried to. Nothing happened.
Bastille snorted. “It won’t work, Smedry. Those bars are made from Reinforcer’s Glass. Things like Smedry Talents and Oculator powers won’t affect them.”
“Oh,” I said, lowering my hand.
“What did you expect to do anyway?” she snapped. “Save us? What about the soldier out there? What about the Dark Oculator, who is in the room next door?”
“I didn’t think – “
“No. No, you Smedrys never think! You make all this talk about ‘seeing’ and ‘information,’ but you never do anything useful. You don’t plan, you just go. And you drag the rest of us along with you!”
Shy spun and walked as far from me as she could, then sat down on the floor, not looking at me.
I stood silent, a little stupefied.
“Don’t mind her, Alcatraz,” Sing said quietly, joining me at the front of the cell. “She’s just a little angry with herself for letting us get caught.”
“It wasn’t her fault,” I said. “It was mine.”
It was mine. Not words I’d often said. I was a little surprised to hear them come out of my mouth.
“Actually,” Sing said, “it’s really not any of our fault. You were right to suggest following Blackburn – he was probably our best chance of finding the sands. But, well, this is how things turned out.”
Sing sighed, running his hand along one of the bars. I reached out and felt one too, noting now that Bastille had been right – the bar didn’t quite feel like iron. It was too smooth.
“There were a few Smedrys who could have gotten through these bars, Reinforcer’s Glass or no,” Sing said. “Ah, to have a Talent like that…”
“I think your Talent is pretty useful,” I said. “It saved us down below, and that stumble you did to create a distraction was great. I’ve never seen anything so amazing!”
Sing smiled. “I know you’re just saying that. But I appreciate it anyway.”
We stood quietly for a moment, and I found myself feeling frustrated, and more than a little guilty. Despite what Sing had said, I felt responsible for getting us captured. Slowly, the real weight of what was going on began to press against me.
I’d been imprisoned by the type of people who sent armed gunmen to collect young boys from their homes – people who included a man so evil, he left dark footprints burning on the ground. Blackburn obviously could have killed me if he’d wanted. That meant he had kept me alive for a reason. And I was growing more and more certain I didn’t want to know what that reason was.
It had been a long time since I’d felt true dread. I’d learned over the years to be a bit callous – I’d had to, with my foster parents abandoning me so often. In that moment, however, dread pushed through my shell.
Bastille was still sulking in the back, so I glanced at Sing, looking for some sort of comfort. “Sing? Our ancestors – could you tell me about some of them?”
“What would you like to know?”
I shrugged.
“Well,” Sing said, rubbing his chin. “There was Libby Smedry – she was quite the capable one. I’ve often wished to have a Talent half as grand as hers.”
“And it was?”
“She could get impossible amounts of water on the floor when she did the dishes,” Sing said, sighing slightly. “She single-handedly ended the drought in Kalbeeze during the fourth-third century – and she did it while keeping all their dishware sparkling clean!”
He smiled wistfully. “Also, I suppose everyone knows about Alcatraz Smedry the Seventh – he would be about sixteen generations removed from you. The Librarians weren’t around then, but Dark Oculators were. Alcatraz Seven had the Talent to make annoying noises at inappropriate times. He defeated enemy after enemy – you see, he distracted the Dark Oculators so much that they couldn’t concentrate hard enough to work their Lenses!”
Sing sighed. “Thinking about those kinds of Talents always makes tripping seem so bland.”
“Breaking things isn’t all that great either,” I said.