‘Yeah, whatever,’ Bastille said, leaning against the window and looking down. ‘I guess I’m resigned to my punishment.’
Not this again, I thought, worried. After losing her sword and being reprimanded by her mother, Bastille had gone through a serious funk. The worst part was that it was my fault. She’d lost her sword because I’d broken it while trying to fight off some sentient romance novels. Her mother seemed determined to prove that one mistake made Bastille completely unworthy to be a knight.
‘Oh, don’t look at me like that,’ Bastille snapped. ‘Shattering Glass! Just because I’m resigned to my punishment doesn’t mean I’m giving up completely. I still intend to find out who set me up like this.’
‘You’re sure someone did?’
She nodded, eyes narrowing as she grew decidedly vengeful. I was happy that, for once, her wrath didn’t seem directed at me.
‘The more I’ve thought about it,’ she said, ‘the more the things you said the other week make sense. Why did they assign a freshly knighted girl – on such a dangerous mission? Somebody in Crystallia wanted me to fail – someone was jealous of how fast I’d achieved knighthood, or wanted to embarrass my mother, or simply wanted to prove that I couldn’t succeed.’
‘That doesn’t sound very honorable,’ I noted. ‘A Knight of Crystallia wouldn’t do something like that, would they?’
‘I . . . don’t know,’ Bastille said, glancing toward her mother.
‘I find it hard to believe,’ I said, though I didn’t completely believe that. You see, jealousy is an awful lot like farting. Neither is something you like to imagine a brave knight being involved in, but the truth is, knights are just people. They get jealous, they make mistakes, and – yes – they break wind. (Though, of course, knights never use the term ‘break wind.’ They prefer the term ‘bang the cymbals.’ Guess that’s what they get for wearing so much armor.)
Draulin stood at the back of the room, and – for once – wasn’t standing in a stiff ‘parade rest’ stance. Instead, she was polishing her enormous crystal sword. Bastille suspected her mother had been the one to set her up, as Draulin was one of the knights who gave out assignments. But why would she send her own daughter on a mission that was obviously too hard for her?
‘Something is wrong,’ Bastille said.
‘You mean, aside from the fact that our flying hawk mysteriously exploded?’
She waved an indifferent hand. ‘The Librarians did that.’
‘They did?’
‘Of course,’ Bastille said. ‘They have an ambassador in town and we’re going to stop them from taking over Mokia. Hence, they tried to kill us. Once the Librarians try to blow you up a few dozen times, you get used to it.’
‘Are we sure it was them?’ I asked. ‘One of the rooms exploded, you said. Whose?’
‘My mother’s,’ Bastille replied. ‘We think it might have been from some Detonator’s Glass slipped into her pack before she left Nalhalla. She carried that pack all the way through the Library of Alexandria, and it was set to go off when she got back in range of the city.’
‘Wow. Elaborate.’
‘That’s the Librarians. Anyway, something is bothering my mother. I can tell.’
‘Maybe she’s feeling bad for punishing you so harshly.’
Bastille snorted. ‘Not likely. This is something else, something about the sword . . .’
She trailed off and didn’t seem to have anything else to add. A few moments later, Grandpa Smedry waved me toward him. ‘Alcatraz!’ he said. ‘Come listen to this!’
My grandfather was sitting with Sing on the couches. I walked over and sat down next to my grandfather, noting how comfortable the couch was. I hadn’t seen any other dragons like this one crawling across the walls of the city, so I assumed that the ride was a special privilege.
‘Sing, tell my grandson what you’ve been telling me,’ Grandpa Smedry said.
‘Well, here’s the thing,’ Sing said, leaning forward. ‘This ambassador sent by the Librarians, she’s from the Wardens of the Standard.’
‘Who?’ I asked.
‘It’s one of the Librarian sects,’ Sing explained. ‘Blackburn was from the Order of the Dark Oculators, while the assassin you faced in the Library of Alexandria was from the Order of the Scrivener’s Bones. The Wardens of the Standard have always claimed to be the most kindly of the Librarians.’
‘Kindly Librarians? That seems like an oxymoron.’
‘It’s also an act,’ Grandpa Smedry said. ‘The whole order is founded on the idea of looking innocent; they’re really the deadliest snakes in the lot. The Wardens maintain most of the Hushlander libraries. They pretend that because they’re only a bunch of bureaucrats, they’re not dangerous like the Dark Oculators or the Order of the Shattered Lens.’
‘Well, act or not,’ Sing replied, ‘they’re the only Librarians who have ever made any kind of effort to work with the Free Kingdoms, rather than just trying to conquer us. This ambassador has convinced the Council of Kings that she is serious.’