Free Kingdomer magic and technology have their own kind of logic. Take the glass bird. It was driven by something called a silimatic engine, which used different types of sands and glass to propel it. Smedry Talents and Oculator powers were called “magic” in the Free Kingdoms, since only special people could use them. Something that could be used by anyone—such as the silimatic engine or the boots on my feet—was called technology.
The longer I spent with people from the Free Kingdoms, the less I bought that distinction. “Grandfather,” I said, “did I ever tell you that I managed to power a pair of Grappler’s Glass boots just by touching them?”
“Hum?” Grandpa Smedry said. “What’s that?”
“I gave a pair of these boots an extra boost of power,” I said. “Just by touching them … as if I could act like some kind of battery or energy source.”
My grandfather was silent.
“What if that’s what we do with the Lenses?” I said, tapping the spectacles on my face. “What if being an Oculator isn’t as limited as we think it is? What if we can affect all kinds of glass?”
“You sound like your father, lad,” Grandpa Smedry said. “He has a theory relating to exactly what you’re talking about.”
My father. I glanced upward. Then I turned back to Grandpa Smedry and focused on his pair of Windstormer’s Lenses that kept the wind at bay.
“Windstormer’s Lenses,” I said. “I … broke the other pair you gave me.”
“Ha!” Grandpa Smedry said. “That’s not surprising at all, lad. Your Talent is quite powerful.”
My Talent—my Smedry Talent—was the magical ability to break things. Every Smedry has a Talent, even those who are only Smedrys by marriage. My grandfather’s Talent was the ability to arrive late to appointments.
The Talents were both blessings and curses. My grandfather’s Talent, for instance, was quite useful when he arrived late to things like bullets or tax day. But he’d also arrived too late to stop the Librarians from stealing my inheritance.
Grandpa Smedry fell uncharacteristically silent as he stared out over the ocean, which seemed to hang above us. West. Toward Nalhalla, my homeland, though I’d never once set foot upon its soil.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Hum? Wrong? Nothing’s wrong! Why, we rescued your father from the Curators of Alexandria! You showed a very Smedry-like keenness of mind, I must say. Very well done! We’ve been victorious!”
“Except for the fact that my mother now has a pair of Translator’s Lenses,” I said.
“Ah yes. There is that.”
The Sands of Rashid, which had started this entire mess, had been forged into Lenses that could translate any language. My father had somehow collected the Sands of Rashid, then he’d split them and sent half to me, enough to forge a single pair of spectacles. He’d made another pair for himself. After the fiasco at the Library of Alexandria, my mother had managed to steal his pair. (I still had mine, fortunately.)
Her theft meant that if she had access to an Oculator, she could read the Forgotten Language and understand the secrets of the ancient Incarna people. She could read about their technological and magical marvels, discovering advanced weapons. This was a problem. You see, my mother was a Librarian.
“What are we going to do?” I asked.
“I’m not sure,” Grandpa Smedry said. “But I intend to speak with the Council of Kings. They should have something to say on this, yes indeed.” He perked up. “Anyway, there’s no use worrying about it at the moment! Surely you didn’t come all the way down here just because you wanted to hear doom and gloom from your favorite grandfather!”
I almost replied that he was my only grandfather. Then I thought for a moment about what having only one grandfather would imply. Ew.
“Actually,” I said, looking up toward Hawkwind, “I wanted to ask you about my father.”
“What about him, lad?”
“Has he always been so…”
“Distracted?”
I nodded.
Grandpa Smedry sighed. “Your father is a very driven man, Alcatraz. You know that I disapprove of the way he left you to be raised in the Hushlands … but, well, he has accomplished some great things in his life. Scholars have been trying to crack the Forgotten Language for millennia! I was convinced that it couldn’t be done. Beyond that, I don’t think any Smedry has mastered their Talent as well as he has.”
Through the glass above, I could see shadows and shapes—our companions. My father was there, a man I’d spent my entire childhood wondering about. I’d expected him to be a little more … well, excited to see me.
Even if he had abandoned me in the first place.
Grandpa Smedry rested his hand on my shoulder. “Ah, don’t look so glum. Amazing Abrahams, lad! You’re about to visit Nalhalla for the first time! We’ll work this all out eventually. Sit back and rest for a bit. You’ve had a busy few months.”
“How close are we anyway?” I asked. We’d been flying for the better part of the morning. That was after we’d spent two weeks camped outside the Library of Alexandria, waiting for my uncle Kaz to make his way to Nalhalla and send a ship back to pick us up. (He and Grandpa Smedry had agreed that it would be faster for Kaz to go by himself. Like the rest of us, Kaz’s Talent—which is the ability to get lost in very spectacular ways—can be unpredictable.)
“Not too far, I’d say,” Grandpa Smedry said, pointing. “Not far at all…”
I turned to look across the waters, and there it was. A distant continent just coming into view. I took a step forward, squinting from my upside-down vantage. There was a city built along the coast of the continent, rising boldly in the early light.
“Castles,” I whispered as we approached. “It’s filled with castles?”
There were dozens of them, perhaps hundreds. The entire city was made of castles, reaching toward the sky, lofty towers and delicate spires. Flags flapping from the very tips. Each castle had a different design and shape, and a majestic city wall surrounded them all.
Three structures dominated the rest. One was a black castle on the far south side of the city. Its sides were sheer and tall, and it had a powerful feel to it, like a mountain. Or a really big stone bodybuilder. In the middle of the city there was a strange white castle that looked something like a pyramid with towers and parapets. It flew an enormous, brilliant red flag that I could make out even from a distance.
On the far north side of the city, to my right, was the oddest structure of all. It appeared to be a gigantic crystalline mushroom. It was at least a hundred feet tall and twice as wide. It sprouted from the city, its bell top throwing a huge shadow over a bunch of smaller castles. Atop the mushroom sat a more traditional-looking castle that sparkled in the sunlight, as if constructed entirely from glass.
“Crystallia?” I asked, pointing.
“Yes indeed!” Grandpa Smedry said.
Crystallia, home of the Knights of Crystallia, sworn protectors of the Smedry clan and the royalty of the Free Kingdoms. I glanced back up at Hawkwind. Bastille waited inside, still under condemnation for having lost her sword back in the Hushlands. Her homecoming would not be as pleasant as mine would be.
But … well, I couldn’t focus on that at the moment. I was coming home. I wish I could explain to you how it felt to finally see Nalhalla. It wasn’t a crazy sense of excitement or glee—it was far more peaceful. Imagine what it’s like to wake up in the morning, refreshed and alert after a remarkably good sleep.