The Scrivener's Bones (Alcatraz, #2)

by Brandon Sanderson

I am a liar.

9/13/2016 first read of Alcatraz 2

Librarians. LIE-brarians.

It was a head taller than the others, and one of its arms was several feet longer than the other. Its head was misshapen. Perhaps inhuman. Most definitely dangerous.

My weight must have told those above that I was aboard, because the ladder suddenly jerked upward, towing me with it and ripping me free from whatever force had been holding me back. I felt the pressure lighten, and glancing down, I let out a relieved breath.

It’s because of people like you that we authors have to clog our second books with all kinds of explanations. We have to, essentially, invent the wheel again—or at least renew our patent.

Flying above me was an enormous glass dragon.

Besides, I like wearing a glassweave jacket, and this uniform has one.”

You’re Bastille’s mother?” I asked. “I am indeed, Lord Smedry,”

“Australia Smedry!” she said, hopping out of her chair and rushing over to give me a hug. “Your cousin, silly! Sing’s sister.”

“Gak!”

“I can wake up in the morning looking incredibly ugly!”

“Your uncle,” Australia said. “Your father’s brother. He was just here.… Must have wandered off again.”

“You should not address her, Lord Smedry,” Bastille’s mother said. “She’s only here acting as my squire, and is currently beneath your notice.”

“Squire Bastille has been stripped of her rank, Lord Smedry,” Bastille’s mother said. “You should address all of your questions to me, as I will be acting as your Knight of Crystallia from now on.”

I should note here that Bastille’s mother—Draulin—is by no means as stiff and boring a person as she might at first seem. I have it on good authority that once, about ten years ago, she was heard to laugh, though some still claim it was a particularly nasty sneeze.

“Squire Bastille has not executed her duty in a manner befitting one who carries the title Knight of Crystallia,” Draulin continued. “She performed in a sloppy, embarrassing manner that endangered not one, but both Oculators under her protection. She allowed herself to be captured. She allowed a member of the Council of Kings to be tortured by a Dark Oculator. And, on top of all of that, she lost her bonded Crystin sword.”

Bastille glanced down. “Look, I told you when I lost my sword that I would be in trouble. Well, see, I’m in trouble. I’ll deal with it. I don’t need your pity.” “It isn’t pity! It’s annoyance.” I eyed her. “What aren’t you telling me, Bastille?”

Alcatraz! I think I’ve found your father. He came here. I’m sure of it!

The voice was growing even fainter. The Library … Grandfather! What library? Library … of Alexandria …

My mother was a Librarian and worked for the wrong side.

“Raise a finger, then,” Kaz said, walking down the beach toward us. I won’t say which one she raised.

LOL

I’ve spoken to them at length about this. If it makes you feel better, Bastille dies by the end of this book. Oh, you didn’t want to hear that? I’m sorry. You’ll simply have to forget that I wrote it. There are several convenient ways to do that. I hear hitting yourself on the head with a blunt object can be very effective. You should try using one of Brandon Sanderson’s fantasy novels. They’re big enough, and goodness knows that’s really the only useful thing to do with them.

lol

“You can use Lenses, but you also have some limited power over silimatic glass, what we call ‘technology.’”

The biggest problem is, the adults have one of the most effective recruitment strategies in the world. Give them enough time, and they’ll turn any kid into one of them.

lol

Regardless, I had grown into the habit of pushing people away as soon as I got to know them—abandoning them before they could abandon me. It had been tough to realize what I was doing, but I was already starting to change.

Kaz chuckled, slicing off a couple of fronds. “Look, it’s all right. I’m used to this. But I want you to understand that I don’t need to be cured.”

“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.”

“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.”

“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.”

hope you never have to see Australia right after she’s gotten up in the morning.

“Dodger Stadium?” I asked. “I know there aren’t any jungles there!” “Must be up past the nosebleed seats,”

Was I expected to sip tea and behead people?

there is a reference to lords beheading people in words of radiance by Shallan on page 506 Kindle

“My lord,” Draulin said. “I feel the need to apologize. I spoke quite out of turn to

“Consider yourself chastised,” I said instead.

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.

I am a fish. More on this later.

Look up the name Draulin on your favorite search engine. You won’t get many results, and the ones you do get will probably be typos, not prisons. (Though, the two are related in that they are both things I tend to be affiliated with far too often.) Either way, there’s no prison named Draulin, though there is one named Bastille.

“I command her to speak,” I said. “It means there’s interference of some sort,” Bastille said quickly.

You kind of have a leader’s flair about you, Smedry.”

“It fired a Frostbringer’s Lens. I thought only Oculators could activate things like that.”

“You saw my mother,” she grumbled. “I’m not supposed to talk about things like that.” “Why?” “Because I’m not an Oculator.” “I’m not a pigeon either,” I said. “But I can talk about feathers if I want.” She eyed me. “That’s a really bad metaphor, Smedry.”

“I’m good at those kind.”

you are no David Charleston though

“Metal face,” she said. “Was it wearing a mask?” I shook my head. “The face was made out of bits of metal. I saw the creature before, on the airfield.

“Voidstormer’s Lenses,” she said absently. “The opposite of those Windstormer’s Lenses you have.”

Windstormer’s Lenses were my only real offensive Lenses. Besides them, I only had my Oculator’s Lenses, my Courier’s Lenses, and—of course—my Translator’s Lenses.

Al's lens collection

“More so now,” she said. “You remember that Oculator you fought in the library?” “Blackburn? Sure.”

“he belonged to a sect of Librarians known as the Dark Oculators. There are other sects, though—four, I think—and they don’t get along very well. Each sect wants to be in charge of the whole organization.”

“One of the Scrivener’s Bones,” she said. “It’s the smallest sect. Other Librarians tend to avoid the Scrivener’s Bones except when they need them, because they have … odd habits.”

“Just what I said,” Bastille whispered. “They’re part Alivened. Twisted half human, half monster.”

Scrivener's Bones librarians are a small sect that are part alivened lol

“There’s a way to make a Lens that anyone can use,” she whispered very quietly. “There is?” I asked. “Well, why in the world don’t we have more of those?” Bastille glanced to the side. “Because, idiot,” she hissed. “You have to sacrifice an Oculator and use his blood to forge one.”