‘Yes, but . . . well, I mean . . .’
‘It’s over, Smedry,’ she said. ‘We’re beaten. Kaz has probably already arrived at the center of the Library and given up those Lenses. Chances are, Kiliman will just take him captive and let my mother die.’
‘Maybe we can still find a way out. And go help.’
Bastille didn’t seem to be listening. She simply sat down, arms folded across her knees, staring at the wall. ‘They really are right about me,’ she whispered. ‘I never deserved to be a knight.’
‘What?’ I asked, squatting down beside her. ‘Bastille, that’s nonsense.’
‘I’ve only done two real operations. This one and the infiltration back in your hometown. Both times I ended up trapped, unable to do anything. I’m useless.’
‘We all got trapped,’ I said. ‘Your mother didn’t fare much better.’
She ignored this, still shaking her head. ‘Useless. You had to save me from those ropes, and then you had to save me again when we were covered in tar. That’s not even counting the time you saved me from falling out the side of the Dragonaut.’
‘You saved me too,’ I said. ‘Remember the coins? If it wasn’t for you, I’d be floating around with burning eyes, offering illicit books to people as if I were a drug dealer looking for a new victim.’
(Hey, kids? Want a taste of Dickens? It’s awesome, man. Come on. First chapters of Hard Times are free. I know you’ll be back for Tale of Two Cities later.)
‘That was different,’ Bastille said.
‘No, it wasn’t. Look, you saved my life – not only that, but without you, I wouldn’t know what half these Lenses are supposed to do.’
She looked up at me, brow furled. ‘You’re doing it again.’
‘What?’
‘Encouraging people. Like you did with Australia, like you’ve done with all of us this entire trip. What is it about you, Smedry? You don’t want to make any decisions, but you take it upon yourself to encourage us all anyway?’
I fell silent. How had that happened? This conversation had been about her, and suddenly she’d thrown it back in my face. (I’ve found that throwing things in people’s faces – words, conversations, knives – is one of Bastille’s specialties.)
I looked toward the light flickering faintly in the room above. It seemed haunting and inviting, and as I watched it, I realized something about myself. While I hated being trapped because I worried about what might happen to Kaz and Draulin, there was a larger cause of my frustration.
I wanted to be helping. I didn’t want to be left out. I wanted to be in charge. Leaving things to others was tough for me.
‘I do want to be a leader, Bastille,’ I whispered.
She rustled, turning to look at me.
‘I think all people, in their hearts, want to be heroes,’ I continued. ‘But, the ones who want it most are the outcasts. The boys who sit in the backs of rooms, always laughed at because they’re different, because they stand out, because . . . they break things.’
I wondered if Kaz understood that there were more ways than one to be abnormal. Everyone was strange in some way – everyone had weaknesses that could be mocked. I did know how he felt. I’d felt it too.
I didn’t want to go back.
‘Yes, I want to be a hero,’ I said. ‘Yes, I want to be the one leader. I used to sit and dream of being the one that people looked to. Of being the one who could fix things, rather than break them.’
‘Well, you have it,’ she said. ‘You’re the heir to the Smedry line. You’re in charge.’
‘I know. And that terrifies me.’
She regarded me. She’d taken off her Warrior’s Lenses, and I could see the light from above reflecting in her solemn eyes.
I sat down, shaking my head. ‘I don’t know what to do, Bastille. Being the kid who’s always in trouble didn’t exactly prepare me for this. How do I decide whether or not to trade my most powerful weapon to save someone’s life? I feel like . . . like I’m drowning. Like I’m swimming in water over my head and can’t ever reach the top.
‘I guess that’s why I keep saying I don’t want to lead. Because I know if people pay too much attention to me, they’ll realize that I’m doing a terrible job.’ I grimaced. ‘Just like I am now. You and I captured, your mother dying, Kaz walking into danger, and Australia – who knows where she is.’
I fell silent, feeling even more foolish now that I’d explained it. Yet, oddly, Bastille didn’t laugh at me.
‘I don’t think you’re doing a terrible job, Alcatraz,’ she said. ‘Being in charge is hard. If everything goes well, then nobody pays attention. Yet, if something goes wrong, you’re always to blame. I think you’ve done fine. You just need to be a little bit more sure of yourself.’
I shrugged. ‘Maybe. What do you know of it, anyway?’
‘I . . .’
I glanced at her, the tone in her voice making me curious. Some things about Bastille had never added up, in my estimation. She seemed to know too much. True, she’d said that she’d wanted to be an Oculator, but that didn’t give me enough of an explanation. There was more.
‘You do know about it,’ I said.
Now it was her turn to shrug. ‘A little bit.’
I cocked my head.
‘Haven’t you noticed?’ she asked, looking at me. ‘My mother doesn’t have a prison name.’
‘So?’
‘So, I do.’
I scratched my head.
‘You really don’t know anything, do you?’ she asked.
I snorted. ‘Well, excuse me for being raised on a completely different continent from you people. What are you talking about?’
‘You are named Alcatraz after Alcatraz the First,’ Bastille said. ‘The Smedries use names like that a lot, names from their heritage. The Librarians, then, have tried to discredit those names by using them for prisons.’
‘You’re not a Smedry,’ I said, ‘but you have a prison name too.’
‘Yes, but my family is also . . . traditional. They tend to use famous names over and over again, just like your family does. That’s not something that common people do.’
I blinked.
Bastille rolled her eyes. ‘My father’s a nobleman, Smedry,’ she said. ‘That’s what I’m trying to tell you. I have a traditional name because I’m his daughter. My full name is Bastille Vianitelle the Ninth.’
‘Ah, right.’ It’s sort of like what rich people, kings, and popes do in the Hushlands – they reuse old names, then just add a number.
‘I grew up with everyone expecting me to be a leader,’ she said. ‘Only, I’m not very well suited to it. Not like you.’
‘I’m not well suited to it!’
She snorted. ‘You are good with people, Smedry. Me, I don’t want to lead people. They kind of annoy me.’
‘You should have become a novelist.’
‘Don’t like the hours,’ she said. ‘Anyway, I can tell you that growing up learning how to lead doesn’t make any difference. A lifetime of training only makes you understand just how inadequate you are.’
We fell silent.
‘So . . . what happened?’ I asked. ‘How did you end up as a Crystin?’
‘My mother,’ Bastille said. ‘She’s not noble, but she is a Crystin. She always pushed me to become a Knight of Crystallia, saying that my father didn’t need another useless daughter hanging about. I tried to prove her wrong, but I’m too well-bred to do something simple, like become a baker or a carpenter.’
‘So you tried to become an Oculator.’
She nodded. ‘I didn’t tell anyone. I’d heard that Oculatory power was genetic, of course, but I intended to prove everyone wrong. I’d be the first Oculator in my line, then my mother and father would be impressed.
‘Well, you know how that turned out. So, I just joined the Crystin, like my mother had always said I should. I had to give up my title and my money. Now I’m realizing just how foolish that decision was. I make an even worse Crystin than I did an Oculator.’
She sighed, folding her arms again. ‘The thing is, I thought – for a while – that I would be good at it. I made knight faster than anyone ever had. Then, I was immediately sent out to protect the Old Smedry – which was one of the most dangerous, difficult assignments the knights had. I still don’t know why they picked that as my first job. It’s never made sense.’
‘It’s almost like they were setting you up to fail.’
She sat for a moment. ‘I never thought about it that way. Why would anyone do such a thing?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But, you have to admit, it does sound suspicious. Maybe someone in charge of giving the assignments was jealous of how quickly you made it to knight, and wanted to see you fall.’
‘At the cost, maybe, of the Old Smedry’s life?’
I shrugged. ‘People do strange things sometimes, Bastille.’
‘I still find it hard to believe,’ she said. ‘Besides, my mother was part of the group that makes those assignments.’
‘She seems like a hard one to please.’
Bastille snorted. ‘That’s an understatement. I made knight, and all she could say was, “Make certain you live up to the honor.” I think she was expecting me to bungle my first job – maybe that’s why she came to get me herself.’
I didn’t reply, but somehow I knew we were thinking the same thing. Bastille’s own mother couldn’t have been the one to set her up to fail, could she? That seemed a stretch. Of course, my mother had stolen my inheritance, then sold me out to the Librarians. So, maybe Bastille and I were a well-matched pair.
I sat with my back against the wall, looking up, and my mind turned away from Bastille’s problems and back to what I’d said earlier. It had felt good to get the thoughts out. It had helped me, finally, sort out how I felt. A few months back, I would have settled for simply being normal. Now I knew that being a Smedry meant something. The more time I spent filling that role, the more I wanted to do it well. To justify the name I bore, and live up to what my grandfather and the others expected of me.
Perhaps you find that ironic. There I was, deciding bravely that I would take upon myself the mantle that had been quite randomly thrust upon me. Now, here I am, writing my memoirs, trying as hard as I can to throw off that very same mantle.
I wanted to be famous. That should, in itself, be enough to make you worried. Never trust a man who wants to be a hero. We’ll talk about this more in the next book.
‘We’re quite the pair, aren’t we?’ Bastille asked, smiling for the first time I’d seen since we fell down the shaft.
I smiled back. ‘Yeah. Why is it that my best soul-searching moments always come when I’m trapped?’
‘Sounds like you should be imprisoned more often.’