‘Look, she could still be a spy. Why, maybe she’s seducing Folsom to get at his secrets!’
‘Seductions don’t look so cutesy,’ Bastille said as we approached their blanket. ‘Anyway, there’s a simple method to find out. Pull out that Truthfinder’s Lens.’
Hey, that’s a good idea, I thought. I fumbled, pulling out the Lens and looking through it toward the Librarian.
Bastille marched right up to the blanket. ‘You’re Himalaya?’ she asked.
‘Why, yes,’ the Librarian said. As I looked through the Lens, her breath seemed to glow like a white cloud. I assumed that meant she was telling the truth.
‘Are you a Librarian spy?’ Bastille asked. (She’s like that, blunter than a rock and twice as ornery.)
‘What?’ Himalaya said. ‘No, of course not!’
Her breath was white.
I turned to Bastille. ‘Grandpa Smedry warned that Librarians were good at saying half-truths, which might get them around my Truthfinder’s Lens.’
‘Are you saying half-truths?’ Bastille said. ‘Are you trying to fool that Lens, trick us, seduce this man, or do anything like that?’
‘No, no, no,’ Himalaya said, blushing.
Bastille looked at me.
‘Her breath is white,’ I said. ‘If she’s lying, she’s doing a really great job of it.’
‘Good enough for me,’ Bastille said, pointing. ‘You two, get in the pig. We’re on a tight schedule.’
They jumped to their feet, not even asking questions.
When Bastille gets that tone in her voice, you do what she says. For the first time, I realized where Bastille’s ability to order people about might have come from. She was a princess – she’d probably spent her entire childhood giving commands.
By the First Sands, I thought. She’s a princess.
‘All right,’ Bastille said. ‘We’ve got your Librarian, Smedry. Let’s hope she can actually help.’
We headed back to the pig, and I eyed the setting sun. Not much time left. This next part was going to have to go quickly. (I suggest you take a deep breath.)
15
Humans are funny things. From what I’ve seen, the more we agree with someone, the more we like listening to them. I’ve come up with a theory. I call it the macaroni and cheese philosophy of discourse.
I love macaroni and cheese. It’s amazing. If they serve food in heaven, I’m certain mac and cheese graces each and every table. If someone wants to sit and talk to me about how good mac and cheese is, I’ll talk to them for hours. However, if they want to talk about fish sticks, I generally stuff them in a cannon and launch them in the general direction of Norway.
That’s the wrong reaction. I know what mac and cheese tastes like. Wouldn’t it be more useful for me to talk to someone who likes something else? Maybe understanding what other people like about fish sticks could help me understand how they think.
A lot of the world doesn’t think this way. In fact, a lot of people think that if they like mac and cheese rather than fish sticks, the best thing to do is ban fish sticks.
That would be a tragedy. If we let people do things like this, eventually we’d end up with only one thing to eat. And it probably wouldn’t be mac and cheese or fish sticks. It’d probably be something that none of us likes to eat.
You want to be a better person? Go listen to someone you disagree with. Don’t argue with them, just listen. It’s remarkable what interesting things people will say if you take the time to not be a jerk.
We dashed from the giant glass pig like deployed soldiers, then stormed up the steps to the Royal Archives. (Go ahead, say it with me. I know you want to.)
Not a library.
Bastille in her Warrior’s Lenses was the fastest, of course, but Folsom and Himalaya kept up. Sing was in the rear, right beside . . .
‘Prince Rikers?’ I said, freezing in place. I’d assumed that the prince would remain with his vehicle.