Alcatraz Versus the Evil Librarians

you. That shows real promise, lad.”
    I looked over at the Sheldons’ house again. “You’ll… come for me, won’t you?”
    “Of course I will, lad!”
    I took a deep breath. “All right, then. Do you want to take the Translator’s Lenses with you?”
    “They’re your inheritance, lad. It wouldn’t be right. You keep them.”
    I nodded. Grandpa Smedry smiled, then reached over to give me a hug. I held on tight – tighter than I’d probably intended.
    Grandfather, cousins, perhaps even my father, I thought. I have family.
    Finally, I let go, then got out of the car. I looked up at the house again. I’ve always had family, I thought. Not always the Sheldons, but someone. People willing to give me a home. I guess it’s about time I admitted that.
    I closed the door, then looked in through the window.
    “Don’t break anything!” Grandpa Smedry said.
    “Just come for me,” I said. “Don’t be late.”
    “Me?” Grandpa Smedry asked. “Late?”
    Then he rapped on the dash of the car, and it began to hum. I watched it pull away, watched it until it was gone. Then I walked up the street to the house. I paused on the doorstep. I could still faintly smell smoke.
    I knocked on the door. Roy opened it. He stood, stupefied, for a moment. Then he yelled in surprise, grabbing me in a hug. “Joan!” he cried.
    She rushed around the corner. “Alcatraz?”
    Roy handed me over to her. She grabbed me in a tight embrace.
    “When the caseworker called,” Roy said, “asking where you’d gone… well, we assumed you’d run off for good, kiddo.”
    “You didn’t get into trouble, did you?” Joan asked, looking at me sternly.
    I shrugged. “I don’t know. I knocked down two floors, one wall, and a few doors, I think. Nothing too bad.”
    Joan and Roy shared a look, then smiled, and took me in.
    Hours later, after giving them some reasonable lies about where I’d been, after having a good meal, and after accepting their pleas that I stay with them for at least a little while longer, I walked up to my room.
    I sat down on my bed, trying to think through the things that had happened to me. Oddly, I didn’t find the Librarians, the Alivened, or the Lenses to be the most strange of the recent events. The strangest things to me were the changes I saw in myself.
    I cared . And it had all happened because of a simple package in the mail…
    My head snapped up. There, sitting on my desk, was the empty box, beside its brown wrapper. I stood and walked across the room. I flattened out the packaging noting the stamp that I’d investigated, the address written in faded ink… and the scribbles up the side of the paper. The ones I’d assumed had come from someone trying to get the ink in his pen to flow.
    With trembling hands, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the Translator’s Lenses – the Lenses of Rashid. I slipped them on. The scribble immediately changed into legible words.

Son,
    Congratulations! If you can read this, then you have managed to craft Lenses of Rashid from the sands I sent you. I knew you’d be able to do it!
    I must tell you that I am afraid. I fear that I’ve stumbled on something powerful – something more important, and more dangerous, than any of us expected. The Lenses of Rashid were only the beginning! The Forgotten Language leads to clues, stories, legends about the Smedry Talents and –
    Well, I can’t say more here. By the time you get this package, much time will have passed. Thirteen years. Perhaps I’ll have solved the problem by then, but I suspect not. The Lenses that let me see where you will be living at age thirteen have also given me a warning that my task will not be done by then. But I can only see vaguely into the future – the Oracle’s Lenses are far from perfect! What I see makes me even more worried.
    Once I have confirmation that this box reached you without being intercepted, I will send you further information. I have the other set of Rashid Lenses – with them, I can write in the Forgotten Language, and only you will be able to read my messages.
    For now, simply know that I’m proud of you, and that I love you.
    Your father,
    Attica Smedry
    I put the paper down, stunned. It was at that moment that I heard a rapping on my window. Instead of a raven outside, however, I saw the mustached face of Grandpa Smedry.
    I frowned, walking over and opening the window. Grandpa Smedry stood on a ladder that appeared to have extended from the back of his little