Bastille vs. The Evil Librarians by Sanderson Brandon & Patterson Janci

Author:Sanderson, Brandon & Patterson, Janci [Sanderson, Brandon & Patterson, Janci]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Young Adult, Humour, Adventure, Childrens
ISBN: 9781250811066
Amazon: 1250811066
Goodreads: 59808314
Publisher: Starscape
Published: 2022-09-20T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter

10

I feel it’s important to mention here that my efforts to get Alcatraz to do something in Chapter Eight were not because of some kind of mystical “he’s the Chosen One”–type nonsense. That’s the sort of thing you’d find in a silly fantasy novel, and not in a completely true account of actual events like this.

I had faith in Alcatraz because he’d proven to me that he deserved that faith. Yes, he was a drooling nitwit at the moment, but being a nitwit had never held him back in the past. The drooling part was a bonus feature, like discovering that your sword came with an extra sheath to better match different outfits. We could use him to water potted plants now, for example.

Anyway, I trusted him. He was the one who had heard the Scrivener’s plans, had read Attica’s notes—even just a little bit. If anyone could figure a way out of this mess, it would be him. And I came to that conclusion on my own.

There’s no such thing as a Chosen One. Only people who are put in difficult situations and do their best.

I stared down at Alcatraz. I can’t say I was surprised, and I also can’t say I was angry. Not because I wasn’t, but because I’m angry so often that I’m running out of new ways to describe it. Hang on, let me check my thesaurus.

I felt apoplectic with wrath. Cha-ching!

“Idiot,” I said. “That’s not helping.”

“I’m sorry, Bastille,” Alcatraz said. “But if this is my chance to redeem myself for—”

“Being eaten first is not redemption!” I yelled at him. “Being eaten first is stupid!”

“It’s actually pretty cowardly,” said the Gak. “Because the person who gets eaten second has to watch.”

Alcatraz’s face fell, like he truly thought he needed to volunteer to watch me be eaten in order to not be a total failure at life.

Shattering Glass. We did not have time for this.

“Fine,” I said. “Enjoy him. I hope he tastes delicious.” I turned, picked up my sword and the briefcase of Lenses, and marched down the beach, hissing at Alcatraz to stall. I heard the grass rustling as the Gak advanced on him.

At the very least, this particular Gak seemed to enjoy toying with its prey before doing that thing my editor says is far too dark for this book. But in the interest of journalism, I feel I must tell you that Gaks have a habit of

Well, there. Now you know.

Alcatraz did, at least, seem motivated to stall. “Are you interested in astrawnomy?” he asked the Gak. “I don’t want to strawng-arm you into anything, but I feel that if we don’t adequately get to know each other, it might lead to catastrawphy.”

I stomped toward the Dragonaut, scanning the craft for anything that might have been left behind. A drinking straw, perhaps. A hat made out of straw. Australia had been on board, and she has very strange taste in clothes.

If anything like that had been left behind, the Gak had long since removed it.

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