I’m not sure if I ever had a chance to be anything but the selfish jerk I became. Despite Grandpa Smedry’s chastisement, I still longed for the fleeting satisfaction of fame. It had been really nice to hear people talk about how great I was.
My taste of fame sat in me like a corrupt seed, blackened and putrid, waiting to sprout forth slimy dark vines.
‘Alcatraz?’ Bastille asked, elbowing me.
I blinked, realizing that I’d zoned out. ‘Sorry,’ I mumbled.
She nodded to the side. Prince Rikers was approaching. ‘I called ahead, and Folsom isn’t at the palace,’ he said.
‘He isn’t?’ I asked, surprised.
‘No, the servants said that he and a woman looked over the treaty, then left. But never fear! We can continue our quest, for the servant said that we could find Folsom in the Royal Gardens—’
‘Not a park,’ Sing said. ‘Or, er, never mind.’
‘—across the street.’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘What’s he doing in the gardens?’
‘Something terribly exciting and important, I’d guess,’ Rikers said. ‘Eldon, take notes!’
A servant in a scribe’s robes appeared from a nearby room, as if from nowhere, with a notepad. ‘Yes, my lord,’ the man said, scribbling.
‘This will make an excellent book,’ Rikers said, sitting down.
Bastille just rolled her eyes.
‘So, wait,’ I said. ‘You called ahead? How’d you do that?’
‘Communicator’s Glass,’ Rikers said. ‘Lets you talk with someone across a distance.’
Communicator’s Glass. However, something about that bothered me. I reached into my pocket, pulling out my Lenses. I’d once had a pair of Lenses that let me communicate across a distance. I didn’t have them anymore – I’d given them back to Grandpa Smedry. I did have the new set of Disguiser’s Lenses, though. What about the power they gave me? If I was thinking about someone, I could make myself look like them . . .
(By the way, yes, this is foreshadowing. However, you’ll need to have read the previous two books in the series to figure out what’s going on. So if you haven’t read them, then too bad for you!)
‘Wait,’ Bastille said, pointing at the Truthfinder’s Lens in my hand. ‘Is that the one you found in the Library of Alexandria?’
‘Yeah. Grandpa figured out that it’s a Truthfinder’s Lens.’
She perked up. ‘Really? Do you know how rare those are?’
‘Well . . . to be honest, I kind of wish that it could blow things up.’
Bastille rolled her eyes. ‘You wouldn’t know a useful Lens if you cut your finger on it, Smedry.’
She had a point. ‘You know a lot more about Lenses than I do, Bastille,’ I admitted. ‘But I think there’s something odd about all of this. Smedry Talents, the Oculator’s Lenses, brightsand . . . it’s all connected.’
She eyed me. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Here, let me show you.’ I tucked my Lenses away, standing up and scanning the chamber, looking for a likely candidate. On one wall, there was a small shelf with some glass equipment on it. ‘Your Highness, what’s that?’
Prince Rikers turned. ‘Ah! My new silimatic phonograph! Haven’t hooked it up yet, though.’
‘Perfect,’ I said, walking over and picking up the glass box; it was about the size of a briefcase.
‘That won’t work, Alcatraz,’ the prince said. ‘It needs a silimatic power plate or some brightsand to—’
I channeled power into the glass. Not breaking power from my Talent, but the same ‘power’ I used to activate Lenses. Early on, I had simply needed to touch Lenses to power them; now I was learning to control myself so that I didn’t activate them unintentionally.