Alcatraz Versus the Evil Librarians

the silimatic cars, Sing’s glasses, or Bastille’s jacket, can be used by anyone. That makes those things “technology” in Free Kingdomer speak.
    It’s confusing, I know. However, you’re probably smart enough to figure it out. And if you aren’t, then I shall likely call you an insulting name. (Wait for Chapter Fifteen.)
    “We’ll meet here in one hour,” Grandpa Smedry said. “Any longer than that, and we’ll be getting close to closing time. When that happens, all those Librarians out on patrol will return to check in – and we’ll be in serious trouble. Quentin is with me – Sing and Bastille, go with Alcatraz.”
    “But – “ Bastille said.
    “No,” Grandpa Smedry interrupted. “You’re going with him, Bastille. I order you to.”
    “I’m your Crystin,” she objected.
    “True,” Grandpa Smedry said. “But you’re sworn to protect all Smedrys, especially Oculators. The lad will need your help more than I will.”
    Bastille huffed quietly but made no further objections. As for myself, I wasn’t really sure whether to be annoyed or glad.
    “You three inspect this floor, then move up to the second one,” Grandpa Smedry said quietly. “Quentin and I will take the top floor.”
    “But,” Bastille said, “that’s where the Dark Oculator is!”
    “That’s where his lair is,” Grandpa Smedry corrected. “That aura glows so brightly because he spends so much time there. You might be able to notice the Dark Oculator’s own aura if he’s nearby, Alcatraz, but it won’t give you much advance warning. Stay quiet and unseen, all right?”
    I nodded slowly.
    Grandpa Smedry stepped a little closer, speaking quietly. “If you do run into him, lad, make certain you keep those Oculator’s Lenses on. They can protect you from an enemy’s Lenses, if you use them right.”
    “How… how do I manage that?” I asked.
    “It takes time to practice, lad,” Grandpa Smedry said. “Time we don’t have! But, well, it probably won’t come to that. Just… try to stay away from any rooms that shine black, okay?”
    I nodded again.
    “Well, then!” Grandpa Smedry said to the whole group. “The Librarians will have to spend ages cleaning up that mess in the lobby. Hopefully, they won’t even notice the door until we’re gone. One hour! Quickly, now. We’re late!”
    With that, Grandpa Smedry spun to the left and began walking down the empty white hallway. Quentin waved good-bye. “Rutabaga, fire over the inheritance!” he said, then rushed after the elderly Oculator.
    Sing and Bastille turned to me. It… looks like I’m in charge, I thought with surprise.
    This was a strange realization. Yes, yes, I know – Grandpa Smedry had already said that I would have to lead my group. I shouldn’t have been surprised to find myself in this situation. The truth is, however, that I was never the sort of person that people put in charge. Those kinds of duties generally go to the types of boys and girls who deliver apples, answer questions, and smile a lot. Leadership duties do not generally go to boys whose desks collapse, who are often accused of playing pranks by removing the doorknobs of school bathrooms, and who once unwittingly made a friend’s pants fall down while he was writing on the chalkboard.
    I never did manage to get that stunt to work again.
    “Um, I guess we go this way,” I said, pointing down the hallway.
    “You think?” Bastille asked flatly, handing Sing his gym bag of guns. She pulled a pair of sunglasses – Warrior’s Lenses, as the others called them – out of her jacket packet and slipped them on. Then she took off, walking down the hallway, handbag flipped around her shoulder.
    If I ordered her to go back and follow Grandpa instead, I wonder if she’d go… I decided that she probably wouldn’t.
    “Say, Alcatraz,” Sing said as we followed Bastille. “What do you suppose this little wrap on my ankle means?”
    I frowned, glancing down. “The bandage?”
    “Oh,” Sing said. “Is that what it is? First aid, it is called, correct?”
    “Yes,” I said. “Why else would someone wrap your ankle like that?”
    Sing glanced down, obviously trying to inspect the ankle bandage while still walking. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said, “I thought maybe it was some preliminary courtship ritual…” He trailed off, looking toward me hopefully.
    “No,” I said. “Not a chance.”
    “That’s sad,” Sing said. “She was pretty.”
    “Is that the sort of