Free Alcatraz versus the Knights of Crystallia by Brandon Sanderson Page B

plain boring. This is a story about evil Librarians, Teleporting Glass, and sword fights. It's not a book about dumb parties. So, instead, I'm just going to summ ar i ze what happened next:
    Person one: "Alcatraz, you're so awesome!”
    Me: "Yes, I know I am."
    The prince: "I always knew he was. Have you read my latest book?”
    Person two: "Alcatraz, you are more awesome even than yourself."
    Me: "Thank you. I think."
    The prince: "He's my buddy, you know. I write books about him."
    This went on for the better part of an hour or so. Only, it wasn't boring for me at the time. I enjoyed it immensely. People were paying attention to me, telling me about how wonderful I was. I actually started to believe I was the Alcatraz from Rikers's stories. It became a little hard to focus on why I'd come to the party in the first place. Mokia could wait, right? It was i mportant that I get to know peo ple, right?
    Eventually, Prince Rikers brought me to the lounge, chatting about how they'd managed to make his books play music. In the lounge, people sat in comfortable chairs, mak ing small talk while they sipped exotic drinks. We passed a large group of partygoers laughing together, and they seemed focused on someone I couldn't see.
    Another celebrity , I thought. I should be gracious to them – I wouldn't want them to get jealous of how much more popular I am than they are .
    W e approached the group. P rince Rikers said, “ And, of course, you already know this next person."
    "I do?" I asked, surprised. The figure in the middle of the crowd of people turned toward me.
    It was my father.
    I stopped in place. The two of us looked at each other. My f ather had a large group of peopl e doting on him, and most of them – I noticed – were attractive young women. The types who wore gowns that were missing large chunks of cloth on the back or on the sides.
    "Attica!" the prince said. "I must say, your son is proving to be quite a popular addition to the party!"
    " O f course he is," my father said, taking a sip of his drink. "He's my son, after all."
    The way he said it bothered me. It was as if he implied that all of my fame and notoriety were simply because of him. He smiled at me – one of those fake smiles you see on T V – then turned away and said something witty. The women twittered adoringly.
    That completely ruined my morning. W hen the prince tried to pull me away to meet some more of his friends, I complained of a headache and asked if I could sit down. I soon found myself in a dim corner of the lounge, sitting in a plush chair. The soft, whisperlike sounds of the crystal music floated over the buzz of chattering people. I sipped some fruit juice.
    What right did my father have to act so dismissive of me? Hadn't I been the one to save his life? I'd grown up inside the Hushlands, oppressed by the Librarians, all because he wasn't responsible enough to take care of me.
    Of all the people in the room, shouldn't he be the one who was most proud of me?
    I should probably say something to lighten the tone here, but I find it hard. The truth was that I didn't feel like laughin g , and I don't really think you should either. (If you must, you can imagine the butler in his underpants again.)
    "Alcatraz?" a voice asked. "Can we join you?"
    I looked up to find Folsom and Himalaya being held back by the servant left to guard me. I waved for him to let them pass, and they took seats near me.
    "Nice party ,” Folsom said in an overly loud voice. "I give it four out of five wineglasses, though the finger food only rates a one and a half."
    I made no comment.
    "Did you find what you were looking for?" Folsom asked in a loud voice. His ears were still stuffed with cotton for some reason.
    Had I found what I was looking for? What had I been looking for? Librarians , I thought. That's right . "I didn't see any Librarians around."
    "What do you mean?" Himalaya said. "They're all over the place."
    They were? "Er . . . I me an, I didn't see them