Alcatraz Versus the Evil Librarians

Talent is pretty useful,” I said. “It saved us down below, and that stumble you did to create a distraction was great. I’ve never seen anything so amazing!”
    Sing smiled. “I know you’re just saying that. But I appreciate it anyway.”
    We stood quietly for a moment, and I found myself feeling frustrated, and more than a little guilty. Despite what Sing had said, I felt responsible for getting us captured. Slowly, the real weight of what was going on began to press against me.
    I’d been imprisoned by the type of people who sent armed gunmen to collect young boys from their homes – people who included a man so evil, he left dark footprints burning on the ground. Blackburn obviously could have killed me if he’d wanted. That meant he had kept me alive for a reason. And I was growing more and more certain I didn’t want to know what that reason was.
    It had been a long time since I’d felt true dread. I’d learned over the years to be a bit callous – I’d had to, with my foster parents abandoning me so often. In that moment, however, dread pushed through my shell.
    Bastille was still sulking in the back, so I glanced at Sing, looking for some sort of comfort. “Sing? Our ancestors – could you tell me about some of them?”
    “What would you like to know?”
    I shrugged.
    “Well,” Sing said, rubbing his chin. “There was Libby Smedry – she was quite the capable one. I’ve often wished to have a Talent half as grand as hers.”
    “And it was?”
    “She could get impossible amounts of water on the floor when she did the dishes,” Sing said, sighing slightly. “She single-handedly ended the drought in Kalbeeze during the fourth-third century – and she did it while keeping all their dishware sparkling clean!”
    He smiled wistfully. “Also, I suppose everyone knows about Alcatraz Smedry the Seventh – he would be about sixteen generations removed from you. The Librarians weren’t around then, but Dark Oculators were. Alcatraz Seven had the Talent to make annoying noises at inappropriate times. He defeated enemy after enemy – you see, he distracted the Dark Oculators so much that they couldn’t concentrate hard enough to work their Lenses!”
    Sing sighed. “Thinking about those kinds of Talents always makes tripping seem so bland.”
    “Breaking things isn’t all that great either,” I said.
    “No, Alcatraz. Breaking things – now that’s a real Talent. One of the great old talents, talked about in the legends. I know I shouldn’t really complain about my power – I should be happy to have anything. But you… it would be a true shame to speak ill of a Talent like that. And it couldn’t have been given to a better Smedry.
    A better Smedry…
    Sing smiled at me encouragingly, and glanced away. I’m getting too attached to him, I thought. To all of them – Grandpa Smedry, Sing, even Bastille.
    “Come on,” Sing said. “Don’t look so glum.”
    “You don’t really know me, Sing,” I found myself saying. “I’m not a good person.”
    “Nonsense!” Sing said.
    I leaned against the bars of the cell, glancing out – not that there was much to look at. A simple stone wall stood across from the cell. “You don’t know the things I’ve done, Sing. The… breaking. The pain I’ve brought to good people – people who just wanted to give me a home.”
    Sing shrugged. “Actually, Alcatraz, Grandpa Smedry spoke of you sometimes. He talked about the… mishaps that happened around you. He said he thought it might be related to your Talent, and turns out it was. Not your fault at all!”
    Why did you burn down your foster parents’ kitchen? Grandpa Smedry had asked. It seems like a perversion of your Talent… .
    “No,” I said. “It was my fault, Sing. I didn’t break simple, ordinary things. I broke the things that were the most valuable to people who cared for me. I made them hate me. On purpose.”
    “No,” Sing said. “No, that doesn’t sound like something a Smedry could do.”
    “Every family has its black sheep, Sing,” I said. “I’m a… broken Smedry. Maybe that’s why the Dark Oculator didn’t kill me. Maybe he knows that I’m not noble like the rest of you. Maybe he knows that he might be able to pull me to his side. Perhaps I’d be better there.”
    Sing fell silent. I waited for him to look horrified or betrayed.
    After a few moments, Sing raised a hand and put it on my shoulder. “You’re still my cousin. Even if you’ve done bad