Okay, I can’t help myself. I’ve written three and a half books. I held my tongue. (Figuratively, unlike that guy back in Act V.) But I’m about to burst.
It is time to talk about religion in the Hushlands.
You Free Kingdomers may be confused by Hushlander religions. After all, they are all so very different, and their followers are all so very good at yelling at one another loudly that it’s hard to tell what any of them are saying. However, should you infiltrate Librarian nations and need to imitate a Hushlander, you’ll probably need to join one of their religions to blend in. Therefore, I’ve prepared this handy guide.
Religions, in the Hushlands, are basically about food.
That’s right, food. In following one religion or another, you end up boycotting certain foods. If you become Hindu, for instance, you give up beef. Mormons give up alcohol and coffee. Catholics can eat pretty much whatever they want, but have to give up the stuff they like the most for one month a year, while Muslims give up all food during the daytime hours of Ramadan.
So which religion is the best? Well, it depends. In my cultivated opinion, I’d suggest Judaism.
But that’s because I prefer the path of yeast resistance.
We stood atop the wooden palisade wall of Tuki Tuki watching the gigantic Librarian robots drive large, glowing rods into the ground. They shone blue in the night and were as tall as buildings. They illuminated the Librarian war camp, which was far more active now. Men and women had been awakened and were collecting their weapons and forming up battle lines.
‘What are they?’ Angola asked.
‘They look like some kind of glass device,’ Aydee said.
‘No,’ Kaz said. He stood atop a step stool and looked out at the Librarian camp, rubbing his chin. ‘This war is being led by the Order of the Shattered Lens.’
‘Who?’ I asked.
Bastille rolled her eyes at my ignorance.
‘The Shattered Lens is a Librarian sect, Al,’ Kaz said. He was a scholar of Talents, Oculatory Distortions, and – by extension – Librarians. ‘You’ve met the Dark Oculators, the Scrivener’s Bones, and the Wardens of the Standard. Well, the Shattered Lens is the last of them. And probably the largest. The other orders accept, even use, silimatic technology and Oculatory Lenses. These guys, though . . .’
‘They don’t?’ I asked.
‘They hate all forms of glass.’ Kaz said. ‘They take Biblioden’s teaching very literally. He didn’t like anything “strange” like magic or silimatics. Most of the orders interpret his teachings as meaning “Lenses and glasses need to be controlled very carefully, so only the important can use them.” Those Librarians hide the truth from most Hushlanders, but have no qualms about using Free Kingdomer technology and ideas when they can benefit from them.
‘The Order of the Shattered Lens is different. Very different. They feel that Lenses and silimatic glasses should never be used, not even by Librarians. They think Free Kingdom technology is evil and disgusting.’
I nodded slowly. ‘So those piles of glass we passed while running into the city?’
‘They hold glass-breakings,’ Angola said softly. ‘They gather together in groups and smash pieces of glass. Even regular glass, with no kind of Oculatory or silimatic abilities. It’s symbolic to them.’
‘The other Librarians let them run the wars,’ Kaz added. ‘Partially, I suspect, to keep them away. There will be trouble within the Librarian ranks if the Free Kingdoms ever do fall. The Order of the Shattered Lens works with the Dark Oculators and the Scrivener’s Bones for now. There’s a bigger enemy to fight. But once we’re gone, there will likely be civil war as the orders struggle for dominance.’
‘Civil war across the entire world,’ Bastille said softly, nodding. ‘The four Librarian sects using people as their pawns. The Shattered Lens trying to hunt down and kill Dark Oculators, the Wardens of the Standard trying to manipulate things with coolheaded politics, the Scrivener’s Bones working for whomever will pay them the most . . .’
We fell silent. That army outside was large; I glanced back at the city. There didn’t seem to be many Mokian soldiers. Perhaps five or six thousand, both men and women. The Librarians had easily four times that number, and they are armed with futuristic guns. The enormous robots continued their work, planting the rods in the ground. They were making a ring of them, encircling the city.
Faced by such daunting numbers, I finally began to realize what I’d gotten myself into. And that’s when I invented the term stoopidanated, meaning ‘about as stoopid as Alcatraz Smedry, the day he snuck into Tuki Tuki just in time to be there when it got overwhelmed by Librarians.’
It’s a very specific word, I know. Odd how many times I’ve been able to use it in my life.
‘So the rods aren’t glass,’ I said. ‘What are they, then?’
‘Plastic,’ Bastille guessed. ‘Some sort of glass-disrupting technology? That might be what’s making the Communicator’s Glass stop working.’
‘Might just be for light, though,’ Aydee said. ‘Look. Those rods are bright enough that the Librarians can move about as if it were day. They look like they’re getting ready to attack.’ She shrank down a little bit on her stool, as if to hide behind the wall.
Something occurred to me. I pulled the Courier’s Lenses out of my pocket and slid them on.
Now, it might seem odd to you Hushlanders that we had so many different ways of talking to one another over a distance. But if you think about it, this makes sense. How many different ways do we have in the Hushlands? Telephone, fax, telegraph, VoIP, e-mail, regular mail, radio, shouting really loud, bottles with notes in them, texting, blimps with advertisements on them, skywriting, voodoo boards, smoke signals, etc.
Communicating with one another is a basic human need. And communicating with people far away is an even more basic human need, because that way we can make fun of people and they can’t kick us in the face.
By the way, have I mentioned how ugly that shirt is? Yeah. Next time, please try to dress up a little bit when you read my books. Someone might see you, and I have a reputation to maintain.
I concentrated, feeding power into my Lenses, questing out for my grandfather. His face appeared in front of me, but it was fuzzy and indistinct.
Alcatraz, lad! Grandpa said. I was hoping you’d use the Courier’s Lenses. What’s happening? Why doesn’t the Communicator’s Glass work?
‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘The Librarians are doing something outside the city – planting these glowing rods in the ground. That might have something to do with it.’
Even as I spoke, one of the robots placed another of the rods. When it did, my grandfather’s form fuzzed even more.
‘Grandpa,’ I said urgently. ‘Did we convince the knights?’
Think . . . enough . . . help . . . Grandpa said, his voice cutting in and out. They know . . . king still . . . save His Majesty . . . ‘I can’t understand you!’ I said. Another robot raised a rod into the air, preparing to place it.
I raised my hands to the side of the glasses, focusing everything I had into the Lenses. I strained, teeth gritted. Shockingly, the glass started to glow, forcing me to close my eyes as they blazed alight. My grandfather’s voice, once weak, surged back, audible again.
. . . Luring Lovecrafts, what a mess! I said I’ve nearly got them persuaded. I’ll bring them, lad, and anyone else I can get to come. We’ll be there. Hold out until morning! Can you hear me, Alcatraz? Morning’s first light. Er. Well, no, I’ll be late. And that’s been done before. But morning’s second light, for certain. By third light at the latest, I promise!
The robot planted the rod. My grandfather’s voice fuzzed again, and I tried another surge of power, but I’d pushed it too far. My Talent slipped through, mixing with my Oculatory power. I had trouble keeping the two separate; they were like two brightly different colors of paint, mixing and churning inside of me. Use one, and some of the other always wanted to come along.
The Talent surged through my hands before I realized what I was doing, and the frames of the Lenses shattered, dropping the bits of glass off my eyes. I caught them clumsily. Unfortunately, after feeling that resistance, I knew that they wouldn’t work again – not as long as those Librarian rods were interfering. I reluctantly slipped the Lenses back in my pocket.
‘What did he say?’ Aydee asked, anxious.
‘He’s coming,’ I replied. ‘With the Knights of Crystallia.’
‘When?’ Bastille asked.
‘Well . . . he wasn’t really that specific . . .’ I grimaced. ‘He said dawn. Probably.’
‘Probably?’ Mallo said. ‘Young Smedry, I’m not certain I can stake the lives of my people on a “probably.”’
‘My grandfather is reliable,’ I said. ‘He’s never let me down.’
‘Except when he arrived too late to get the Sands of Rashid before the Librarians,’ Bastille added. ‘Or . . . well, when he arrived too late to stop your mother from stealing the Translator’s Lenses from the Library of Alexandria. Or when he was too late to—’
‘Thanks, Bastille,’ I said flatly. ‘Real helpful.’
‘I think we’re all aware of my father’s Talent,’ Kaz said, stepping up beside me. ‘But I know Leavenworth Smedry better than anyone else, now that Mom’s dead. If my pop says he’ll be here with help, you can count on him. He might be a tad late, but he’ll make up for it with style.’
‘Style will not protect my people from Librarian weapons,’ Mallo said, shaking his head. ‘Your help is appreciated, but your promises are flimsy.’
‘Please,’ I said. ‘Your Majesty, you’ve got to give us a chance. At least give it until morning. What do you have to lose by sleeping on it?’
‘There will be no sleeping,’ Mallo said nodding. ‘Look.’
I followed the gesture. Outside the walls, the large robots had finished planting the rods into the ground. Now they were walking over to a large pile of boulders that sat just outside of the camp.
‘Our period of rest has ended,’ Mallo said grimly. ‘They demanded our surrender, and since I’ve sent back no word, it seems they are going to resume their assaults. I had assumed they would wait until it was light to do so, but you know what they say about assumptions.’
‘If you’re going to make a donkey joke,’ I noted, ‘I did that already.’
Mallo frowned at me. ‘No, I was going to quote an ancient Mokian proverb, revered and honored by our people over six centuries of use.’
‘Oh,’ I said, embarrassed. ‘Um, sorry. How does it go?’
‘“Don’t make assumptions, idiot,”’ Mallo quoted with a reverent voice. ‘Nice proverb.’
‘Mokian philosophers like to get to the point,’ Mallo said.
‘Either way, if we are going to surrender, we need to do it now. Those terrible machines of theirs will be throwing rocks soon, and the Defender’s Glass will not last much longer against the assault.’
‘If you give up,’ Bastille said, ‘that is the end of Mokia.’
‘Please,’ I said. ‘Give us more time. Wait just a little longer!’
‘Husband,’ Angola said, laying a hand on his arm, ‘most of our people would rather die than be taken by the Librarians.’
‘Yes,’ Mallo said, ‘but sometimes you need to protect people even when they do not wish it. Our warriors think only of honor. But I must consider the future, and what is best for all of our people.’
King Mallo’s face adopted a thoughtful expression. He folded a pair of beefy arms, one of his soldiers holding his spear for him. He stared out over the top of the wooden wall, looking at the Librarian forces.
Now, perhaps some of you reading might be thinking of Mallo as a coward for even considering surrender. That’s great. Next time you’re in charge of the lives of thousands of people, you can make decisions quickly if you want. But Mallo wanted to think.
It all comes back to change. Nothing stays the same, not even kingdoms. Sometimes you have to accept that.
Sometimes, though, things change too quickly for you to even think about it. What happened next is still a blur in my mind. We were standing on the wall, waiting for Mallo to make his decision. And then Librarians were there.
Apparently, they came up through a tunnel they dug that opened just inside the wall. I didn’t see that. I just saw a group of bow-tied figures, charging at us along the wall, wielding guns that shot balls of light.
Kaz vanished, his Talent making him get lost.
In the blink of an eye, three Mokian soldiers were standing in front of Aydee where there had been only two, her Talent instantly bringing a man from across the wall forward to defend her.
My Talent broke a few guns, though several of the Librarians had bows, and they fired those. Bastille, moving in a blur, had her sword out in a heartbeat and was cutting arrows from the air.
Seriously. She cut them out of the air. Never play baseball against a Crystin.
The Mokian soldiers began to fight, leveling their spears, which also shot out glowing bursts of light.
It was all over in a few seconds. I was the only one who didn’t move. I had no training with real combat or war – I was just a stoopid kid who had gotten himself in over his head. By the time I thought to yelp in fear and duck, the skirmish was over, the assassins defeated.
Smoke rose in the air. Men fell still.
I glanced down, checking to make certain all of my important limbs were still attached. ‘Wow,’ I said.
Bastille stood in front of me, sword out, eyes narrow. She’d probably just saved my life. ‘You see, Your Majesty,’ I said.
‘You can’t trust the Librarians! If you give up, they will just . . .’
I trailed off, only then noticing something. Mallo wasn’t standing beside me, where he had been before. I searched around desperately, and found the king lying on the wall, his body covering that of his wife, whom he’d jumped to protect. Neither of them was moving.
Warriors called out in shock, moving their king and queen. Others called for help. In a daze, I turned, seeing the bodies of the Librarian assassins.
This was actually war. People were actually dying. Suddenly all of this didn’t seem very funny any longer. Unfortunately, fate had a pretty good joke waiting for me in the very near future.
‘They’re alive,’ Bastille said, kneeling with the soldiers beside the king and queen. ‘They’re still breathing. They don’t look to have been hurt, even.’
‘The Librarian weapons,’ one of the Mokians said, ‘will often knock people unconscious. They’re trying to conquer Mokia but don’t want to exterminate us. They want to rule over us. So they use guns that put us into comas.’
Another of the men nodded. ‘We know of no cure – our stunner blasts work differently and have their own antidote. Those wounded can only be awakened by the Librarians, once the war is over. They’ll wake us up in small, controllable batches, and brainwash us to forget our freedom.’
‘I’ve heard of this,’ Kaz said, kneeling down beside the king. When had Kaz come back? ‘They did it when conquering other kingdoms too. Brutally effective tactic – if they knock us into comas, we still have to feed and care for those wounded, which drains our resources. Makes it easier to crack us. Far more effective than just killing.’
One of the soldiers nodded. ‘We have thousands of wounded who are sleeping like this. Of course, many of the Librarians lie comatose from our stun-spears as well. The antidote for one does not work on victims of the other.’
We stood back as a Mokian doctor approached. Surprisingly, he was dressed in a white lab coat and spectacles. He carried a large piece of glass, which he held up, using it to inspect the king and queen. ‘No internal wounds. Just Librarian Sleep.’
‘I would have expected a witch doctor,’ I said quietly to Kaz.
‘Why?’ Kaz said. ‘The king’s not a witch, and neither’s the queen.’
‘Take them to their chambers,’ the doctor said, standing. ‘And place double guards on them! If the Librarians know they’re down, they’ll want to kidnap them.’
Several soldiers nodded. Others, however, stood up, looking around with confusion. Outside, the Librarian robots began to hurl their boulders. One smashed against the glass covering, making the entire city seem to shake.
‘Who is in charge now?’ I asked, looking around.
‘The captain of the watch fell earlier today,’ one of the soldiers said. ‘And the last remaining field general before him.’
‘The princess rules,’ another said. ‘But she’s outside the city.’
‘The Council of Kings will need to ratify a succession,’ another said. ‘There’s no official king until then. Acting king would be the highest person of peerage in the city.’
The group fell silent.
‘Which means?’ I asked.
‘By the Spire itself,’ Bastille whispered, eyes opening wide. ‘It can’t be. No . . .’
All eyes turned toward me.
‘Wait,’ I said, nervous. ‘What?’
‘The Smedry Clan is peerage,’ Bastille said, ‘accepted as lords and ladies in all nations belonging to the Council of Kings. Your family gained that right when they abdicated; all recognized that the Smedry Talents could have led you to conquer the Free Kingdoms. But because of that, a direct heir to the Smedry line ranks equal with a duke in most kingdoms. Including Nalhalla and Mokia.’
‘And a duke is . . .?’ I asked.
‘Just under a prince,’ Aydee said.
The warriors all fell to one knee before me. ‘What are your wishes, Your Majesty?’ one of them said.
‘Aw, pelicans,’ Kaz swore.