“… need access to the Royal Archives,” my father was saying to the monarchs.
“Not a library,” I found myself whispering.
My father didn’t notice me. “There are some books there I believe would be of use to my investigations, now that I’ve recovered my Translator’s Lenses. One volume in particular was conspicuously missing from the Library of Alexandria—the Curators claimed their copy had been burned in a very strange accident. Fortunately, I believe there may be another one here.”
“It’s gone,” I said, my voice soft in the room’s buzzing conversations.
Attica turned to me, as did several of the monarchs. “What is that, son?” my father asked.
“Didn’t you pay attention at all to what happened last week?” I demanded. “Mother has the book. The one you want. She stole it from the archives.”
My father hesitated, then nodded to the monarchs. “Excuse us.” He pulled me aside. “Now, what is this?”
“She stole it,” I said. “The book you want, the one written by the scribe of Alcatraz the First. She took it from the archives. That’s what the entire mess last week was about!”
“I thought that was an assassination attempt on the monarchs,” he said.
“That was only part of it. I sent you a message in the middle of it, asking you to come help us protect the archives, but you completely ignored it!”
He waved an indifferent hand. “I was occupied with greater things. You must be mistaken—I’ll look through the archives and—”
“I looked already,” I said. “I’ve looked at the title of every single book in there that was written in the Forgotten Language. They’re all cookbooks or ledgers or things. Except that one my mother took.”
“And you let her steal it?” my father demanded indignantly.
Let her. I took a deep breath. (And next time you think your parents are frustrating, might I invite you to read through this passage one more time?)
“I believe,” a new voice said, “that young Alcatraz did everything he could to stop the aforementioned theft.”
My father turned to see King Dartmoor, wearing his crown and blue-gold robes, standing behind him. The king nodded to me. “Prince Rikers has spoken at length of the event, Attica. I expect there will be a novel forthcoming.”
Wonderful, I thought.
“Well,” my father said, “I guess … well, this changes everything.…”
“What is this about giving everyone Talents, Attica?” the king asked. “Is that really wise? From what I hear, Smedry Talents can be very unpredictable.”
“We can control them,” my father said, waving another indifferent hand. “You know how the people dream of having our powers. Well, I will be the one to make those dreams become a reality.”
So that was what it was about. My father sealing his legacy. Being the hero who made everyone capable of having a Talent.
But if everyone had a Smedry Talent … then, well, what would that mean for us? We wouldn’t be the only ones with Talents anymore. That made me feel a little sick.
Yes, I know it’s selfish, but that’s how I felt. I think this is perhaps the capstone of this book. After all I’d been through, after all the fighting to help the Free Kingdoms, I was still selfish enough to want to keep the Talents for myself.
Because the Talents were what made us special, weren’t they?
“I will have to think on this more,” my father said. “It appears that we’ll have to search out that book. Even if it means confronting … her.”
He nodded to the kings, then walked away. He put on a smiling face when he met with the press, but I could tell that he was bothered. The disappearance of that book had fouled up his plans.
Well, I thought, he should have paid better attention!
I knew it was silly, but I couldn’t help feeling that I’d let him down. That this was my fault. I tried to shake myself out of it and walked back to my grandfather and the others.
Had my parents been like Folsom and Himalaya once? Bright, loving, full of excitement? If so, what had gone wrong? Himalaya was a Librarian and Folsom was a Smedry. Were they doomed to the same fate as my parents?
And Smedry Talents for everyone. My mind drifted back to the words I’d read on the wall of the tomb of Alcatraz the First.
Our desires have brought us low. We sought to touch the powers of eternity, then draw them down upon ourselves. But we brought with them something we did not intend.…
The Bane of Incarna. That which twists, that which corrupts, and that which destroys.
The Dark Talent.
Wherever my father went on his quest to discover how to “make” Smedry Talents, I determined that I would follow after him. I would watch and make certain he didn’t do anything too rash.
I had to be ready to stop him, if need be.
The Last Pages
Alcatraz walks onto the stage. He smiles at the audience, looking right into the camera.
“Hello,” he says. “And welcome to the after-book special. I’m your host, Alcatraz Smedry.”
“And I’m Bastille Dartmoor,” Bastille says, joining Alcatraz on the stage.
Alcatraz nods. “We’re here to talk to you about a pernicious evil that is plaguing today’s youth. A terrible, awful habit that is destroying them from the inside out.”
Bastille looks at the camera. “He’s talking, of course, about skipping to the ends of books and reading the last pages first.”
“We call it ‘Last-Paging,’” Alcatraz says. “You may think it doesn’t involve you or your friends, but studies show that there has been a 4,000.024 percent increase in Last-Paging during the past seven minutes alone.”
“That’s right, Alcatraz,” Bastille says. “And did you know that Last-Paging is the largest cause of cancer in domesticated fruit bats?”
“Really?”
“Yes indeed. Also, Last-Paging makes you lose sleep, grow hair in funny places, and can decrease your ability to play Halo by forty-five percent.”
“Wow,” Alcatraz says. “Why would anyone do it?”
“We’re not certain. We only know that it happens, and that this terrible disease isn’t fully understood. Fortunately, we’ve taken actions to combat it.”
“Such as putting terrible after-book specials at the backs of books to make people feel sick?” Alcatraz asks helpfully.
“That’s right,” Bastille says. “Stay away from Last-Paging, kids! Remember, the more you know…”
“… the more you can forget tomorrow!” Alcatraz says. “Good night, folks. And be sure to join us for next week’s after-book special, where we expose the dangers of gerbil snorting!”
Author’s Afterword
No, we’re not done yet. Be patient. We’ve only had three endings so far; we can stand another one. Both of my other books had afterwords, so this one will too. (And if we need to send someone to Valinor to justify this last ending, let me know. I’m not going to marry Rosie, though.)
Anyway, there you have it. My first visit to Nalhalla, my first experience with fame. You’ve seen the actions of a hero and the actions of a fool—and you know that both hero and fool are the same person.
I know I said that this was the book where you’d see me fail—and, in a way, I did fail. I let my mother escape with the Incarna text. However, I realize this wasn’t as big a failure as you might have been expecting.