Bastille glanced down. ‘Look, I told you when I lost my sword that I would be in trouble. Well, see, I’m in trouble. I’ll deal with it. I don’t need your pity.’
‘It isn’t pity! It’s annoyance.’ I eyed her. ‘What aren’t you telling me, Bastille?’
Bastille muttered something about Smedries but otherwise gave no response. She stalked through the glass corridors, leading me toward – I assumed – my cabin.
As I walked, however, I grew more and more displeased with events. Grandpa Smedry must have discovered something, otherwise he wouldn’t have missed the pickup, and I hated feeling like I was being left out of important things.
Now, this is a stupid way to feel, if you think about it. I was always being left out of important things. At that very moment, there were thousands of people doing very important things all across the world – everything from getting married to jumping out windows – and I wasn’t a part of any of it. The truth is, even the most important people get left out of most things that happen in the world.
But I was still annoyed. As I walked, I realized I still had on my Courier’s Lenses. They were very limited in range, but maybe Grandfather was close by.
I activated the Lenses. Grandfather? I thought, focusing. Grandfather, are you there?
Nothing. I sighed. It had been a long shot anyway. I didn’t really—
A very faint image appeared in front of me. Alcatraz? a distant voice said.
Grandfather? I thought, growing excited. Yes, it’s me!
Flustered Farlands! How did you contact me across such a distance? The voice was so weak that I could barely hear it, even though it was speaking directly into my mind.
Grandfather, where are you?
The voice said something, but was too soft to hear. I focused harder, closing my eyes. Grandfather!
Alcatraz! I think I’ve found your father. He came here. I’m sure of it!
Where, Grandfather? I asked.
The voice was growing even fainter. The Library . . .
Grandfather! What Library?
Library . . . of Alexandria . . .
And then he was gone. I concentrated, but the voice didn’t come back. Finally, I sighed, opening my eyes.
‘You all right, Smedry?’ Bastille asked, giving me a strange look.
‘The Library of Alexandria,’ I said. ‘Where is it?’
Bastille eyed me. ‘Um, in Alexandria?’
Right. ‘Where is that?’
‘Egypt.’
‘Like, the real Egypt? My Egypt?’
Bastille shrugged. ‘Yeah, I think so. Why?’
I glanced back toward the cockpit.
‘No,’ Bastille said, folding her arms. ‘Alcatraz, I know what you’re thinking. We’re not going there.’
‘Why not?’
‘The Library of Alexandria is extremely dangerous. Even regular Librarians are scared to go into it. Nobody in their right mind ever visits that place.’