Read Online Alcatraz versus the Scrivener's Bones by Brandon Sanderson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Brandon Sanderson
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the jacket itself – along with his trousers – were made of heavyweight, rugged material. He came across looking like some cross between Indiana Jones and a British gentleman.
“We ready?” he asked.
“Almost,” I said, finally pulling off the boots with the Grappler’s Glass on them. “Any way to turn these off?” I hel d up the boot, critically eyeing the bottom, which was now stuck with shards of glass and – not surprisingly – sand.
“For most people there is no way,” Draulin said, sitting on a piece of the wreckage, then taking off her armored boots. She pulled out a few pieces of specially shaped glass and slid them into place. “We simply cover them with plates like these, so the boots stick to those instead.”
I nodded. The plates in question had soles and heels on the bottom, and probably felt just like regular shoes.
You, however, are an Oculator,” she said.
“What does that have to do with it?”
“Oculators aren’t like regular people, Alcatraz,” Australia said, smiling. Her head had stopped bleeding, and she’d tied a bandage to it. A pink one. I had no idea where she had found it.
“Indeed, my lord,” Draulin said. “You can use the Lenses, but you also have some limited power over silimatic glass, what we call ‘technology.’”
“You mean, like the engine?” I asked, slipping on my Oculator’s Lenses.
Draulin nodded. “Try deactivating the boots like you would Lenses.”
I did so, touching them. Surprisingly, the sand and glass dropped free, the boots becoming inert.
“Those boots had been given a silimatic charge,” Australia explained. “Kind of like batteries you use in the Hushlands. The boots will run out eventually. Until then, an Oculator can turn them off and on.”
“One of the great mysteries of our age,” Draulin said, he r boots replaced. The way she sa id it indicated that she really didn’t care how or why things worked, only that they did.
Me, I was more curious. I’d been told several times about Free Kingdomer technology. It seemed a simple distinction to me. Magic was that sort of thing that only worked for certain people, while technology – often called silimatics – worked for anyone. Australia had been able to fly the Dragonaut , but so had Kaz. It was technology.
But what I had just learned seemed to indicate that there was a relationship between this technology of theirs and Oculatory powers. However, the conversation reminded me of something else. I didn’t have any idea if we were closer to Alexandria now than we had been before, but it seemed a good idea to try contacting my grandfather again.
I slipped on the Courier’s Lenses and concentrated. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get anything out of them. I left them on just in case, then stuffed the Grappler’s Glass boots into one of the packs.
I slung it over my shoulder; however, Bastille took it from me. I shot her frown.
“Sorry,” she said. “My mother’s orders.”
“You don’t need to carry anything, Lord Smedry,” Draulin said, hefting another pack. “Let Squire Bastille do it.”
“I can carry my own pack, Draulin,” I snapped.
“Oh?” she asked. “And if we get attacked, do you not need to be ready and agile so that you can use your Lenses to defend us?” She turned away from me. “Squire Bastille is good at carrying things. Allow her to do this – it will let her be useful and make her feel a sense of accomplishment.”
Bastille flushed. I opened my mouth to argue some more, but Bastille shot me a glance that quieted me.
Fine, I thought. We all looked toward Kaz, ready to go. “Onward then!” the short man said, taking off across the sand up toward the trees.
CHAPTER 6
Adults are not idiots.
Often, in books such as this one, the opposite impression is given. Adults in these stories will either (a) get captured, (b) disappear conspicuously when there is trouble, or (c) refuse to help.
(I’m not sure what authors have against adults,
“We ready?” he asked.
“Almost,” I said, finally pulling off the boots with the Grappler’s Glass on them. “Any way to turn these off?” I hel d up the boot, critically eyeing the bottom, which was now stuck with shards of glass and – not surprisingly – sand.
“For most people there is no way,” Draulin said, sitting on a piece of the wreckage, then taking off her armored boots. She pulled out a few pieces of specially shaped glass and slid them into place. “We simply cover them with plates like these, so the boots stick to those instead.”
I nodded. The plates in question had soles and heels on the bottom, and probably felt just like regular shoes.
You, however, are an Oculator,” she said.
“What does that have to do with it?”
“Oculators aren’t like regular people, Alcatraz,” Australia said, smiling. Her head had stopped bleeding, and she’d tied a bandage to it. A pink one. I had no idea where she had found it.
“Indeed, my lord,” Draulin said. “You can use the Lenses, but you also have some limited power over silimatic glass, what we call ‘technology.’”
“You mean, like the engine?” I asked, slipping on my Oculator’s Lenses.
Draulin nodded. “Try deactivating the boots like you would Lenses.”
I did so, touching them. Surprisingly, the sand and glass dropped free, the boots becoming inert.
“Those boots had been given a silimatic charge,” Australia explained. “Kind of like batteries you use in the Hushlands. The boots will run out eventually. Until then, an Oculator can turn them off and on.”
“One of the great mysteries of our age,” Draulin said, he r boots replaced. The way she sa id it indicated that she really didn’t care how or why things worked, only that they did.
Me, I was more curious. I’d been told several times about Free Kingdomer technology. It seemed a simple distinction to me. Magic was that sort of thing that only worked for certain people, while technology – often called silimatics – worked for anyone. Australia had been able to fly the Dragonaut , but so had Kaz. It was technology.
But what I had just learned seemed to indicate that there was a relationship between this technology of theirs and Oculatory powers. However, the conversation reminded me of something else. I didn’t have any idea if we were closer to Alexandria now than we had been before, but it seemed a good idea to try contacting my grandfather again.
I slipped on the Courier’s Lenses and concentrated. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to get anything out of them. I left them on just in case, then stuffed the Grappler’s Glass boots into one of the packs.
I slung it over my shoulder; however, Bastille took it from me. I shot her frown.
“Sorry,” she said. “My mother’s orders.”
“You don’t need to carry anything, Lord Smedry,” Draulin said, hefting another pack. “Let Squire Bastille do it.”
“I can carry my own pack, Draulin,” I snapped.
“Oh?” she asked. “And if we get attacked, do you not need to be ready and agile so that you can use your Lenses to defend us?” She turned away from me. “Squire Bastille is good at carrying things. Allow her to do this – it will let her be useful and make her feel a sense of accomplishment.”
Bastille flushed. I opened my mouth to argue some more, but Bastille shot me a glance that quieted me.
Fine, I thought. We all looked toward Kaz, ready to go. “Onward then!” the short man said, taking off across the sand up toward the trees.
CHAPTER 6
Adults are not idiots.
Often, in books such as this one, the opposite impression is given. Adults in these stories will either (a) get captured, (b) disappear conspicuously when there is trouble, or (c) refuse to help.
(I’m not sure what authors have against adults,
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