Free Alcatraz versus the Scrivener's Bones by Brandon Sanderson Page A

they have in the Free Kingdoms, they would have been able to cure dwarfism by now.”
    “They haven’t been able to cure stupidity, either,” he said. “So I guess we won’t be able to help you.”
    I blushed. “I… didn’t mean…”
    Kaz chuckled, slicing off a couple of fronds. “Look, it’s all right. I’m used to this. I just want you to understand that I don’t need to be cured .”
    “But…,” I said, trying hard to express what I felt without being offensive, “isn’t being short like you a genetic disease?”
    “Genetic, yes,” Kaz said. “But is it disease just because it’s different? I mean, you’re an Oculator; that’s genetic too. Would you like to be cured?”
    “That’s different,” I said.
    “Is it?”
    I paused to think about it. “I don’t know,” I finally said. “But don’t you get tired of being short?”
    “Don’t you get tired of being tall?”
    “I…” It was tough to come up with an a n swer to that one. I really wasn’t all that tall – barely five feet, now that I’d launched into my teens. Still, I was tall compared with him.
    “Now, personally,” Kaz continued, “I think you tall people are really missing out. “Why the entire world would be a better place if you were all shorter.”
    I raised an eyebrow.
    “You look doubtful,” Kaz said, smiling. “Obviously you need to be introduced to The List!”
    “The List?”
    From behind, I heard Australia sigh. “Don’t encourage him, Alcatraz.”
    “Hush, you!” Kaz said, eyeing Australia and eliciting a bit of an eep from her. “The List is a time-tested and scientifically researched collection of facts that prove that short people are better off than tall ones.”
    He glanced at me. “Confused?”
    I nodded.
    “Slowness of thought,” he said. “A common ailment of tall people. Reason number forty-seven: Tall people’s heads are in a thinner atmosphere than those of short people, so the tall people get less oxygen. That makes it so that their brains don’t work quite as well.”
    With that, he chopped his way through the edge of the forest and walked out into a clearing. I stopped in the path, then glanced at Australia.
    “We’re not sure if he’s serious or not,” she whispered. “But, he really does keep that List of his.”
    After getting a glare from Bastille for pausing for so long, I rushed out into the clearing with Kaz. I was surprised to see that the jungle broke just a little further out, giving us a view of...
    “Paris?” I asked in shock. “That’s the Eiffel Tower!”
    “Ah, is that what that is?” Kaz asked, scribbling something on a notepad. “Great! We’re back in the Hushlands. Not as badly lost as I thought.”
    “But…,” I said. “We were on another continent! How did we cross the ocean?”
    “We’re lost, kid,” Kaz said, as if that explained everything. “Anyway, I’ll get us where we need to be. Always trust the short person to know his way! Reason number twenty-eight: Short people can find things easier and follow trails better because they’re closer to the ground.”
    I stood, nearly dumbfounded. “But… there aren’t any jungles near Paris!”
    “He gets lost,” Bastille said, walking up to me, “in some very incredible ways.”
    “I think this is the strangest Talent I’ve ever seen,” I said. “And that’s saying a lot.”
    She shrugged. “Didn’t yours break a chicken once?”
    “Good point.”
    Kaz led us back to the trees, cutting us a half pathway. “So your Talent can take you anywhere!” I said to the short man.
    He shrugged. “Why do you think I was on the Dragonaut ? In case things went wrong, I was to get you and your grandfather out of the Hushlands.”
    “Why even send the ship, then? You could have come got me on your own!”
    He snorted. “I have to know what to look for, Al. I have to have a destination. Australia had to come so that we could use Lenses to contact you, and we figured it was a good idea to bring