“Out,” Ms. Fletcher said, motioning with her hand. “We’ll find you another foster family and things can go back to the way they were.”
“That hardly seems compelling,” I said.
“Alcatraz,” Ms. Fletcher said flatly. “You’re in a Librarian dungeon, and you have Oculator blood. If you aren’t careful, you’ll end up as a sacrifice. I’d be a little more friendly if I were you – I’m likely the only ally you’ll find in this place.”
This was, of course, the first time I ever heard about a ceremony involving sacrificial Oculators. I dismissed the comment as an idle threat.
Foolish, foolish Alcatraz.
“If you’re the best ally I have, Ms. Fletcher,” I said, “then I’m in serious trouble.”
“That sounded just a little bit snide, Alcatraz,” Sing said helpfully. “You may want to back off a little.”
“Thank you Sing,” I said, still watching Ms. Fletcher, my eyes narrowed.
“I can get you out, Alcatraz,” Ms. Fletcher said. “don’t make me do something we’d both regret. I’ve watched over you for years, haven’t I? You can trust me.”
Watched over you for years… “Yes,” I said. “Yes, you have watched over me. And every time a family abandoned me, you told me I was useless. It was like you wanted me to feel abandoned and unimportant.” I met her eyes. “That’s it, isn’t it? You were worried that I’d learn what it meant to be a Smedry. That’s why you always treated me like you did. You needed me to be insecure, so that I would trust you – and distrust my Talent.”
Ms. Fletcher looked away. “Look, let’s just make a deal. Let me get you out, and we can forget about the past for now.”
“And these others?” I asked, nodding toward Sing and Bastille. “If I go free, what happens to them?”
“What do you care?” Ms. Fletcher asked, looking back at me.
I folded my arms.
“You have changed,” Ms. Fletcher said. “And not for the better, I’d say. Is this the same boy who burned down a kitchen yesterday? Since when did you start caring about the people around you?”
The answer to that question was actually “About five minutes ago.” However, I didn’t intend to share that information with Ms. Fletcher.
“Okay,” I said. “We’ll have an exchange. You want to know where the old man is? Well, I want to know some things too. Answer my questions, and I’ll answer yours.”
“Fine,” Ms. Fletcher said, folding her arms.
Businesslike as always, I thought. “How did you know about the Sands of Rashid?”
Ms. Fletcher waved an indifferent hand. “Your parents promised them to you at your birth. It’s a custom – to pronounce an inheritance upon a newborn and deliver it on the child’s thirteenth birthday. Everyone knew that you were supposed to get those sands. Some of us are a little surprised that they actually made their way to you, but we were happy to see them nonetheless.”
“Did you know my parents, then?”
“Of course,” Ms. Fletcher said. “Actually, I studied under them. I thought they might be able to train me to be an Oculator.”
I snorted. “That’s not something you can learn.”
“Yes, well,” Ms. Fletcher said, looking a little flustered, “I was young.”
“Did you kill them?” I asked, teeth gritted.
Ms. Fletcher laughed a flat, lifeless laugh. “Of course not. Do I look like a killer?”
“You send a man with a gun after me.”
“That was a mistake,” Ms. Fletcher said. “Besides, your parents were Smedrys. They would be even harder to kill than you.”
“And why do you want Grandpa Smedry?” I asked.
“No, I think I’ve answered enough questions,” Ms. Fletcher said. “Now fulfill your end of the bargain. Where is the old man?”