Alcatraz Versus the Evil Librarians

in his chair.
    “Alcatraz, lad!” Grandpa Smedry said. “You’re late!”
    I smiled, rushing to the table. Bastille saw to Quentin, cutting the ropes that tied him to the chair.
    “The manacles on my wrists are made of Enforcer’s Glass, lad,” Grandpa Smedry said. “You’ll never break it. Quickly, you have to leave! The Dark Oculator sensed you using the Firebringer’s Lens!”
    I know,” I said. “That was intentional. We distracted him with the Lens, then came in to get you.”
    “You did?” Grandpa Smedry said. “Whooping Williams, lad, that’s brilliant!”
    “Thank you,” I said, placing two hands against the wood of the table. Then I closed my eyes and channeled a blast of Talent into it. Fortunately, it wasn’t warded as well as the door had been, even if the manacles were. Nails sprang free, boards separated, and legs fell off. Grandpa Smedry collapsed in the middle of it, crying out in surprise. Sing quickly rushed over to help him to his feet.
    “Muttering Modesitts,” Grandpa Smedry said quietly, looking at the remnants of the table. The manacles and their chains now hung freely from his wrists and ankles, for the other ends had been affixed to the now-defunct table. Grandpa Smedry looked up at me. “That’s some Talent, lad. Some Talent indeed…”
    Quentin walked over, rubbing his wrists. He had a few budding bruises on his face, but otherwise looked unharmed. “Churches,” he said. “Lead, very small rocks, and ducks.”
    I frowned.
    “Oh, he won’t be able to say anything normal for the rest of the day,” Grandpa Smedry said. “Sing, my boy, would you help me with…” He nodded downward, toward his leg – which, I now noticed, was still impaled by the torturing knife.
    “Grandpa!” I said with concern as Sing reached down gingerly and pulled the knife free.
    There was no blood.
    “Don’t worry, lad,” Grandpa Smedry said. “I’ll arrive late to that wound.”
    I frowned. “How long can you keep that up?”
    “It depends,” Grandpa Smedry said, accepting his tuxedo shirt from Sing. He put it on, then began doing up the front. “Arriving late to wounds requires a bit of effort – holding this one back, along with all the pains Blackburn gave me with his Torture’s Lenses, is already fatiguing. I can hold on for a little while longer, but I’ll have to start letting the pain through eventually.”
    Indeed, Grandpa Smedry looked far less spry now that he had earlier in the day. The torture might not have broken him, but it had certainly produced an effect.
    “Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Grandpa Smedry said. “I can arrive at the pain in small, manageable amounts, once we’re free. Bastille, dear, any luck?”
    I turned. Bastille had apparently done a quick search of the room’s tables and cabinets. She looked up from the last one and shook her head. “If he took you Lenses, he didn’t stash them in here, old man.”
    “Ah, well,” Grandpa Smedry said. “Good work anyway, dear.”
    “I only searched the room,” she said, slamming the door, “because I was so furious at you for getting yourself captured. I figured that if I walked over to help you, I’d end up punching you instead. That didn’t seem fair in your weakened state.”
    Grandpa Smedry raised a hand, whispering to me, “This would probably be a bad time to remind her that she got captured too, eh?”
    “My capture was a different Smedry’s fault,” Bastille snapped, flushing. “And that doesn’t matter. We need to get out of here before that Dark Oculator comes back.”
    “Agreed,” Grandpa Smedry said. “Follow me – I know the way to a stairwell up.”
    “ Up? ” Bastille asked incredulously.
    “Of course,” Grandpa Smedry said. “We came for the Sands of Rashid – and we’re not leaving until we have them!”
    “But they know we’re here,” Bastille said. “The entire library is on alert!”
    “Yes,” Grandpa Smedry said. “But we know where the sands are.”
    “We do?” I asked.
    Grandpa Smedry nodded. “You don’t think Quentin and I got ourselves captured for nothing, do you? We got close to the sands, lad. Very close.”
    “But?” Bastille asked, folding her arms.
    Grandpa Smedry blushed slightly. “Snarer’s Glass. Blackburn has that room so well trapped that it’s a wonder he doesn’t catch himself every time he walks into it.”
    “And how are we going to get past the traps now, then?” Bastille asked.
    “Oh, we won’t have