Alcatraz Versus the Evil Librarians

She glanced at me, and I could see something in her eyes. Relief, even a bit of gratitude. It wasn’t an apology – but from Bastille, it was virtually the same thing. I took it for what it was worth.
    Bastille left the cell and stopped down beside the unconscious Librarian. She pulled off his sunglasses, removed the tape – which was apparently there just for show – then slipped the glasses on her own face. After that, she grabbed the guard by one arm and pulled him into the cell. She quickly patted him down, pulling out a wallet and a dagger as Sing and I left the cell. Then she closed the door, using the glass sphere to lock it again.
    She grinned and held up the sphere to me. “Would you mind?”
    I smiled as well, then reached out with one finger and touched the sphere. It shattered.
    She dug in the wallet for a moment. “Nothing useful in here,” she noted. “Except maybe this.” She pulled out a small card.
    “A library card?” I asked.
    “What else?” she said. I took it from her fingers, turning it over.
    “Hey, they’re gone,” Sing said. He was peeking into the room beside the dungeon, the one where Grandpa Smedry, Ms. Fletcher, and the Dark Oculator had gone.
    Bastille and I joined him. The room was indeed empty, except for our possessions, which had been carefully set out on a table.
    “Thank the First Sands,” Bastille said with relief, tossing aside the guard’s sword in favor of her handbag. “I was worried that I’d be stuck with those common weapons. I’d almost rather have had some guns.”
    “Now, that’s not very nice,” Sing said, waddling forward to inspect his guns, which sat on the table beside the gym bag.
    I joined the two of them at the table as Bastille replaced her silver jacket. “There, Smedry,” she said. My three pairs of glasses sat on the table. I grabbed the Oculator’s Lenses eagerly, slipping them on.
    Of course, nothing really changed . And yet, it did. Even though I wasn’t used to wearing glasses, I found myself comforted to feel their weight on my face. I grabbed the other two pairs, the Firebringer’s Lenses still inside their small pouch.
    “We have to move quickly,” Bastille said.
    Sing nodded, checking the clip on a handgun. He tucked several uzis into the front of his kimono belt, threw on four separate handgun holsters, then strapped the shotgun onto his back. He soon looked like some bizarre fat Rambo samurai.
    “We have to find the room where they took your grandfather,” Bastille said.
    “No problem,” I said, slipping off my Oculator’s Lenses, then putting on the Tracker’s Lenses. Though Blackburn’s footprints had disappeared, Grandpa Smedry’s prints blazed a fiery white, still present. They led out the door on the far side of the room. Ms. Fletcher’s diverged from them, heading in a different direction.
    We’ll have to worry about her later, I thought, nodding toward the other two. Sing slung the gym bag over his shoulder – it was still filled with ammunition – and we set off, moving quickly out after Grandpa Smedry’s footprints.
    And so, I managed to escape from my first dungeon. Determination can actually take you quite far – though, admittedly, you sometimes have to rely on the thirteen-year-old girl to knock out the guards.

Chapter 14
    You’re very clever. You noticed a problem.
    In the last chapter, Sing, Bastille, and I escaped from prison, then immediately rushed off to save Grandpa Smedry. But, of course, Grandpa Smedry was being tortured by the very same man who had captured Sing and Bastille and me in the first place.
    That meant we were in vaguely the same position as before. How did we intend to defeat a master Oculator – a dark, powerful man with more experience than all of us combined? Well, the answer is simple.
    While imprisoned, we had gained a newfound wisdom. We came to a greater understanding of the world around us and of our place in it. We gained insight regarding our…
    Oh, all right. None of us paused to think about what we were doing. In our defense, we were a little bit flustered at the time. Plus, two of us were Smedrys.
    That ought to explain it.
    “This way,” I said, pointing down another castlelike corridor, following Grandpa Smedry’s footprints. And as we ran, something occurred to me. (No, not the fact that we were running after the man who had so easily captured us previously. Something else.)
    “These corridors look familiar,” I said.
    “That’s because all