wear a mustache, though. Might confuse yourself."
Unfortunately, Bastille wasn't there. Once again, I found myself annoyed, and once again, I found myself annoyed at myself for being annoyed, which probably annoys you. I know it annoys my editor.
"It's a fictionalized account, of course," Folsom said about the book. "Most scholars know that you didn't do any of these things. However, you're such a pa rt of the cul tural unconsciousness that stories about you are quite popular."
The cultural what ? I thought, bemused. People were writing books about me! Or, at least, books with me as the hero. That seemed pretty darn cool, even if the facts were sketchy.
"That's the kind of thing they think happens in the Hushlands," Himalaya said, smiling at me, still playing idly with the mints. "Epic battles with the Librarians using strange Hushlander technology. It's all very romanticized and exaggerated."
"Fantasy novels," Aunt Patty said, shaking her head. “ Ah, well. Rot your brain if you want. You're old enough that I can't tell you what to do, though I'm glad you kicked that bed-wetting habit before you moved out!"
"Thanks, Mother," Folsom said, blushing. "That's . . . well, that's really nice. We should –“ He cut off, glancing at Himalaya. "Um, you're doing it again."
The former Librarian froze, then looked down at the mints in front of her. "Oh, bother!"
"What?" I asked.
"She was classif y ing them," Folsom said, pointing at the mints. "Organizing them by shape, size, and... it appears, color as well."
The mints sat in a neat little row, color coordinated and arranged by size. "It's just so hard to kick the habit," Himalaya said with frustration. "Yesterday, I found myself cataloging the tiles on my bathroom floor, counting the number of each color and the number of chipped ones. I can't seem to stop!"
"You'll beat it eventually," Folsom said.
"I hope so," she said with a sigh.
"Well," Aunt Patty said, standing. "I've got to get back to the court discussion. Folsom should be able to give you the information you want, Al catraz .”
We bid farewell, and Aunt Patty made her way from the room – though not before pointing out to the owner that he really ought to do something about his bad haircut.
"What information is it you wanted?" Folsom asked.
I eyed Himalaya, trying to decide just what I wanted to say in front of her.
"Don't worry,” Folsom said. "She's completely trust worthy."
If that's the case, then why does she need a guard to watch o v er her ? I didn't b u y that Folsom was needed to accustom her to life in the Free Kingdoms – not after six months. U nfortunately, there didn't seem to be any getting around talking with her there, so I decided to explain. I didn't think I'd be revealing anything t oo sensitive.
"My grandfather and I would like a report on Librarian activities here in the city," I said. "I understand you're the one to come to about that sort of thing."
"Well, I do have a good time keeping an eye on Librarians ,” Folsom said with a smile. "What do you want to know?"
I didn't honestly know, as I was still kind of unused to this hero stuff. Whatever the Librarians had been up to lately probably had something to with their current attempt to conquer Mokia, but I didn't know what specifi cally to look for.
“ Anything that seems suspicious," I said, trying to sound suave for my fans, in case any of them were eavesdropping. (Being awesome is hard work.)
"Well, let's see," Folsom said. "This treaty mess started about six months back, when a contingent from the Wardens of the Standard showed u p in the city, claiming they wanted to set up an embassy. The king was suspicious, but after years of trying hard to get the Librarians to engage in peace talks, he couldn't really turn them down."
"Six months?" I asked. That would be a little bit after Grandpa Smedry left for the Hushlands to check in on me. It was also about the length of time a frozen burrito would stay in the freezer
A. L. Jackson
Peggy A. Edelheit
Mordecai Richler
Olivia Ryan
Rachel Hawkins
Kate Kaynak
Jess Bentley, Natasha Wessex
Linda Goodnight
Rachel Vail
Tara Brown