‘You’re a Smedry,’ she said. ‘That’s different. Now do you want to learn the rest of these grenades or not?’
‘That depends. What are they going to do to me?’
She eyed me, then grumbled something and turned away.
I blinked. I’d gotten used to Bastille’s moods by now, but this seemed irregular even for her. ‘Bastille?’
She walked over to the far side of the room, tapping a section of glass, making the wall turn translucent. The Royal Weapons Testing Facility was a tall, multitowered castle on the far side of Nalhalla City. Our vantage point gave us a great view of the capital.
‘Bastille?’ I asked again, walking up to her.
She said, arms folded, ‘I shouldn’t be berating you like this.’
‘How should you be berating me, then?’
‘Not at all. I’m sorry, Alcatraz.’
I blinked. An apology. From Bastille? ‘The war really is bothering you, isn’t it? Mokia?’
‘Yeah. I just wish there were more to do. More that we could do.’
I nodded, understanding. My escape from the Hushlands had snowballed into the rescue of my father from the Library of Alexandria, and following that we’d gotten sucked into stopping Nalhalla from signing a treaty with the Librarians. Now, finally, things had settled down. And not surprisingly, other people – people with more experience than Bastille and me – had taken over doing the most important tasks. I was a Smedry and she a full Knight of Crystallia, but we were both only thirteen. Even in the Free Kingdoms – where people didn’t pay as much attention to age – that meant something.
Bastille had been rushed through training during her childhood and had obtained knighthood at a very young age. The others of her order expected her to do a lot of practice and training to make up for earlier lapses. She spent half of every day seeing to her duties in Crystallia.
Generally, I spent my days in Nalhalla learning. Fortunately, this was a whole lot more interesting than school had been back home. I was trained in things like using Oculatory Lenses, conducting negotiations, and using Free Kingdomer weapons. Being a Smedry – I was coming to learn – was like being a mix of secret agent, special forces commando, diplomat, general, and cheese taster.
I won’t lie. It was shatteringly cool. Instead of sitting around all day writing biology papers or listening to Mr Layton from algebra class extol the virtues of complex factoring, I got to throw teddy bear grenades and jump off buildings. It was really fun at the start.
Okay, it was really fun the WHOLE TIME.
But there was something missing. Before, though I’d been stumbling along without knowing what I was doing, we’d been involved in important events. Now we were just . . . well, kids. And that was annoying.
‘Something needs to happen,’ I said. ‘Something exciting.’ We looked out the window expectantly.
A bluebird flew by. It didn’t, however, explode. Nor did it turn out to be a secret Librarian ninja bird. In fact, despite my dramatic proclamation, nothing at all interesting happened. And nothing interesting will happen for the next three chapters.
Sorry. I’m afraid this is going to be a rather boring book. Take a deep breath. The worst part is coming next.
6
Whew! Those were some boring chapters, weren’t they? I know you really didn’t want to hear – in intricate detail – about the workings of the Nalhallan sewer systems. Nor did you care to get a scholarly explanation of the original Nalhallan alphabet and how the letters are based on logographic representations of ancient Cabafloo. And, of course, that vibrant, excruciatingly specific description of what it’s like to get your stomach pumped probably made you feel sick.
Don’t worry, though. These scenes are extremely important to Chapter Thirty-Seven of the novel. Without Chapters Three, Four and Five, you would be completely lost when we get to a later point in the book. It’s for your own good that I included them. You’ll thank me later.
‘Wait,’ I said, pointing out through the clear glass wall of the grenade testing room. ‘I recognize that bird.’
Not the bluebird. The giant glass bird rising from the city a short distance away. It was called the Hawkwind, and it had carried me on my first trip to Nalhalla. It was about the size of a small airplane and was constructed completely of beautiful translucent glass.
Now, some of you Hushlanders might wonder how I could recognize that particular vessel among all of those that were flying in and out of Nalhalla. That’s because in the Hushlands, the Librarians make sure all vehicles look the same. All airplanes of a certain size look identical. Most cars pretty much look the same: trucks look like every other truck, sedans look like very other sedan. They let you change the color. Whoopee.
The Librarians claim it has to be this way, giving some gobbledygook about manufacturing costs or assembly lines. Those, of course, are lies. The real reason everything looks the same has to be with one simple concept: underpants.
I’ll explain later.
The Free Kingdoms don’t follow Hushlander ways of thinking. When they build something, they like to make it distinctive and original. Even an idiot, like me, could tell the difference between any two vehicles from a distance.
‘The Hawkwind,’ Bastille said, nodding as the glass bird flapped its way into the sky, turning westward. ‘Isn’t that the ship your father was outfitting for his secret mission?’