Part 3 (2/2)

”I don't destroy,” I said quietly.

”Why, then?” Grandpa Smedry said.

I shrugged. What was he implying? Did he think I liked liked messing things up all the time? Did he think I liked being forced to move every few months? It seemed that every time I came to love someone, they decided that my Talent was just too much to handle. messing things up all the time? Did he think I liked being forced to move every few months? It seemed that every time I came to love someone, they decided that my Talent was just too much to handle.

I felt a stab of loneliness but shoved it down.

”Ah,” Grandpa Smedry said. ”You won't answer, I see. But I can still wonder, can't I? Why would a boy do such damage to the homes of such kind people? It seems like a perversion of his Talent. Yes, indeed...”

I said nothing. Grandpa Smedry just smiled at me, then straightened his bow tie and checked his wrist.w.a.tch. ”Garbled Greens! We're late. Sing! Quentin!”

”We're ready, Uncle!” a voice called from down the hallway.

”Ah, good,” Grandpa Smedry said. ”Come, my boy. Let me introduce you to your cousins!”

Chapter 4

Hushlanders, I'd like to take this opportunity to commend you for reading this book. I realize the difficulty you must have gone through to obtain it after all, no Librarian is likely to recommend it, considering the secrets it exposes about their kind.

Actually, my experience has been that people generally don't recommend this kind of book at all. It is far too interesting. Perhaps you have had other kinds of books recommended to you. Perhaps, even, you have been given books by friends, parents, or teachers, then told that these books are the type you ”have to read.” Those books are invariably described as ”important” which, in my experience, pretty much means that they're boring. (Words like meaningful meaningful and and thoughtful thoughtful are other good clues.) are other good clues.) If there is a boy in these kinds of books, he will not go on an adventure to fight against Librarians, paper monsters, and one-eyed Dark Oculators. In fact, the lad will not go on an adventure or fight against anything at all. Instead, his dog will die. Or, in some cases, his mother will die. If it's a really really meaningful book, both his dog meaningful book, both his dog and and his mother will die. (Apparently, most writers have something against dogs and mothers.) his mother will die. (Apparently, most writers have something against dogs and mothers.) Neither my mother nor my dog dies in this book. I'm rather tired of those types of stories. In my opinion, such fantastical, unrealistic books books in which boys live on mountains, families work on farms, or anyone has anything anything to do with the Great Depression have a tendency to rot the brain. To combat such silliness, I've written the volume you now hold a solid, true account. Hopefully, it will help anchor you in reality. to do with the Great Depression have a tendency to rot the brain. To combat such silliness, I've written the volume you now hold a solid, true account. Hopefully, it will help anchor you in reality.

So, when people try to give you some book with a s.h.i.+ny round award on the cover, be kind and gracious, but tell them that you don't read ”fantasy,” because you prefer stories that are real. Then come back here and continue your research on the cult of evil Librarians who secretly rule the world.

”This,” Grandpa Smedry proclaimed, pointing to Sing, ”is your cousin Sing Sing Smedry. He's a specialist in ancient weapons.”

Sing nodded modestly. He had exchanged his tunic for what appeared to be a formal kimono though he still wore his dark sungla.s.ses. The kimono was of a very rich dark blue silk and, though it fit him quite well, there was something... wrong about the entire presentation. More than just the fact that the kimono itself wasn't something a regular person in America wore. Sing's chest parted the front of the silk, and the loose garment hung tied about the waist with a large sash tucked beneath his ma.s.sive stomach.

”Uh, nice to meet you Sing... Sing,” I said.

”You can just call my Sing,” the large man replied.

”Ask him what his Talent is,” Grandpa whispered.

”Oh,” I said. ”Um, what's your Talent, Sing?”

”I can trip and fall to the ground,” Sing said.

I blinked. ”That's a Talent?” a Talent?”

”It's not as grand as some, I know,” Sing said, ”but it serves me well.”

”And the kimono?” I asked ”I come from a different kingdom than your grandfather,” Sing said. ”I am from Mokia, while your grandfather and Quentin are from Melerand.”

”Okay,” I said. ”But what difference does that make?”

”It means I have to wear a different disguise from the rest of you,” Sing explained. ”That way, I won't stand out as much. If I look like a foreigner to America, people will ignore me.”

I paused. ”Whatever,” I finally said.

”It makes perfect sense,” Grandpa Smedry said. ”Trust me. We've researched this.” He turned and pointed to the other man. ”Now, this is your cousin Quentin Smedry.” Short and wiry, Quentin wore a sharp tuxedo like that of Grandpa Smedry, complete with a red carnation on the lapel. He had dark brown hair, pale skin, and freckles. Like Sing, he looked to be about thirty years old.

”Well met, young Oculator,” Quentin said from behind his dark sungla.s.ses.

”And what is your Talent?” I dutifully asked.

”I can say things that make absolutely no sense whatsoever.”

”I thought everyone here had that Talent,” I noted.

n.o.body laughed. Free Kingdomers never get my jokes.

”He's also really sneaky,” Grandpa Smedry said.

Quentin nodded.

”Great,” I said. ”So, are both of you... Oculators?”

”Oh, goodness no,” Sing said. ”We're cousins to the Smedry family, not members of the direct line.”

”Didn't you notice the gla.s.ses?” Grandpa Smedry asked. ”They're wearing Warrior's Lenses, one of the only kinds of Lenses that a non-Oculator can use.”

”Um, yes,” I said. ”Actually, I did notice the gla.s.ses. I... noticed the tuxedos too. Is there a reason you dress like that? If we go out like this, we'll kind of stand out, right?”

”Maybe the young lord has a point,” Sing said, rubbing his chin.

Lord? I thought. I had no idea what to make of that. I thought. I had no idea what to make of that.

”Should we get Alcatraz a disguise too, Lord Smedry?” Quentin asked my grandfather.

”No, no,” Grandpa Smedry said. ”He isn't supposed to wear a suit at his age. At least, I don't think...”

”I'm fine,” I said quickly.

The collection of Smedrys nodded.

Now, many of you Hushlanders may be scoffing at the disguises used by the Smedry group. Before you pa.s.s judgment on them, realize that they were somewhat out of their element. Imagine if you were suddenly thrust into a different culture, with very little knowledge of its customs or fas.h.i.+ons. Would you know the difference between a Rounsfield tunic and a Larkian tunic? Would you be able to distinguish when to wear a batoled and when to wear a carfoo? Would you even know where where you wrap a Carlflogian wickerstrap? No? Well, that's because I just made all of those items up. But you didn't know that, did you? you wrap a Carlflogian wickerstrap? No? Well, that's because I just made all of those items up. But you didn't know that, did you?

Therefore, my point is proven. All things considered, I think the Smedrys did quite well. I've seen other infiltration teams ones without without Grandpa Smedry, who is widely held as the Free Kingdoms' foremost expert on American culture and society. The last group that tried an infiltration without him ended up trying to sneak into the Federal Reserve Bank disguised as potted plants. Grandpa Smedry, who is widely held as the Free Kingdoms' foremost expert on American culture and society. The last group that tried an infiltration without him ended up trying to sneak into the Federal Reserve Bank disguised as potted plants.

They got watered.

”Are we ready, then?” Grandpa Smedry said. ”My grandson will be leading this infiltration. Our target is the central downtown library.”

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