“That’s different,” I said.
“Is it?”
I paused to think about it. “I don’t know,” I finally said. “But don’t you get tired of being short?”
“Don’t you get tired of being tall?”
“I…” It was tough to come up with an answer to that one. I really wasn’t all that tall—barely five feet, now that I’d launched into my teens. Still, I was tall compared with him.
“Now, personally,” Kaz continued, “I think you tall people are really missing out. Why, the entire world would be a better place if you were all shorter.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“You look doubtful,” Kaz said, smiling. “Obviously you need to be introduced to The List!”
“The List?”
From behind, I heard Australia sigh. “Don’t encourage him, Alcatraz.”
“Hush, you!” Kaz said, eyeing Australia and eliciting a bit of an eep from her. “The List is a time-tested and scientifically researched collection of facts that prove that short people are better off than tall ones.”
He glanced at me. “Confused?”
I nodded.
“Slowness of thought,” he said. “A common ailment of tall people. Reason number forty-seven: Tall people’s heads are in a thinner atmosphere than those of short people, so the tall people get less oxygen. That makes it so that their brains don’t work quite as well.”
With that, he chopped his way through the edge of the forest and walked out into a clearing. I stopped in the path, then glanced at Australia.
“We’re not sure if he’s serious or not,” she whispered. “But he really does keep that list of his.”
After getting a glare from Bastille for pausing for so long, I rushed out into the clearing with Kaz. I was surprised to see that the jungle broke a little farther out, giving us a view of …
“Paris?” I asked in shock. “That’s the Eiffel Tower!”
“Ah, is that what that is?” Kaz asked, scribbling something on a notepad. “Great! We’re back in the Hushlands. Not as badly lost as I thought.”
“But…” I said. “We were on another continent! How did we cross the ocean?”
“We’re lost, kid,” Kaz said, as if that explained everything. “Anyway, I’ll get us where we need to be. Always trust the short person to know his way! Reason number twenty-eight: Short people can find things easier and follow trails better because they’re closer to the ground.”
I stood, nearly dumbfounded. “But … there aren’t any jungles near Paris!”
“He gets lost,” Bastille said, walking up to me, “in some very incredible ways.”
“I think this is the strangest Talent I’ve ever seen,” I said. “And that’s saying a lot.”
She shrugged. “Didn’t yours break a chicken once?”
“Good point.”
Kaz led us back to the trees, cutting us a half pathway. “So, your Talent can take you anywhere!” I said to the short man.
He shrugged. “Why do you think I was on Dragonaut? In case things went wrong, I was to get you and your grandfather out of the Hushlands.”
“Why even send the ship, then? You could have come got me on your own!”
He snorted. “I have to know what to look for, Al. I have to have a destination. Australia had to come so that we could use Lenses to contact you, and we figured it was a good idea to bring a Knight of Crystallia for protection. Besides, my Talent can be a little … unpredictable.”
“I think they all can,” I said.
He chuckled. “Well, that’s the truth. Just hope you never have to see Australia right after she’s gotten up in the morning. Anyway, we figured that rather than taking a chance on my Talent—which has occasionally gotten me lost for weeks—we should bring the ship.”
“So … wait,” I said. “We could be walking like this for weeks?”
“Maybe,” Kaz said, parting some fronds, looking out. I peeked through beside him. What looked like a desert was sprawling out beyond us. He rubbed his chin in thought. “Walnuts,” he swore. “We’re a bit off track.” He let the fronds fall back into place and we continued walking.
Several weeks. My grandfather could be in danger. In fact, knowing Grandpa Smedry, he most definitely was in danger. Yet I couldn’t get to him because I was traipsing through the jungle, occasionally peering out through another clearing at …
“Dodger Stadium?” I asked. “I know there aren’t any jungles there!”
“Must be up past the nosebleed seats,” Kaz said, taking another turn, leading us in a different direction. It was already growing light, and dawn would soon arrive.
As we started again, Draulin marched up beside me. “Lord Alcatraz? Might I have a moment of your time?”
I nodded slowly. Being called “lord” was still a little unsettling to me. What was required of me? Was I expected to sip tea and behead people? (If so, I certainly hoped I wouldn’t need to do both at the same time.)
What did it mean to be called “lord”? I’ll assume you’ve never had the honor, since I doubt any of you happen to be British royalty. (And if by chance you are, then let me say, “Hello, Your Majesty! Welcome to my stupid book. Can I borrow some cash?”)
It seemed that the Free Kingdomers had unrealistic expectations of me. I wasn’t normally the type to doubt myself, but I’d rarely had a chance to be a leader. The more others started to look to me, the more I began to worry. What if I failed them?
“My lord,” Draulin said. “I feel the need to apologize. I spoke quite out of turn to you while we were fighting atop Dragonaut.”
“It’s all right,” I said, shaking myself out of my moment of self-doubt. “We were in a tense situation.”
“No, there is no excuse.”
“Really,” I said. “Anyone could have gotten snappish in a predicament like that.”
“My lord,” she said sternly, “a Knight of Crystallia isn’t just ‘anyone.’ More is expected of us—not only in action, but in attitude as well. We don’t just respect men of your station, we respect and serve all people. We must always strive to be the best, for the reputation of the entire order depends on it.”
Bastille was walking right behind us. For some reason, I got the feeling that Draulin was preaching less to me and more to her daughter. It seemed backhanded.
“Please,” Draulin continued. “I would be more at peace if you would chastise me.”
“Uh … okay,” I said. (How does one scold a Knight of Crystallia some twenty years your senior? “Bad knight”? “Go straight to bed without polishing your sword”?)
“Consider yourself chastised,” I said instead.
“Thank you.”
“Aha!” Kaz called.
The line paused. Sunlight was beginning to peek through the canopy of leaves. Ahead, Kaz was looking out through some bushes. He flashed us a smile, then cut the bushes away with a swipe of the machete.
“I knew I’d find my way!” he said, gesturing out. I looked for the first time at the great Library of Alexandria—a place so entrenched in lore and mythology that I’d been taught about it even in Hushlander schools. One of the most dangerous buildings on the planet.
It was a one-room hut.
Chapter
7
I am a fish.
No, really. I am. I have fins, a tail, scales. I swim about, doing fishy things. This isn’t a metaphor or a joke, but a real and honest fact. I am a fish.