Free Alcatraz by Brandon Sanderson Page B

emergency!’
    Don’t get too worried – this isn’t the sort of story in which emergencies occur. Yes, it is highly unlikely that you will ever see those Firebringer’s Lenses activated. So don’t get your hopes up.
    I accepted the Firebringer’s Lenses from my grandfather and they immediately started glowing.
    ‘Cavorting Cards!’ Grandpa Smedry yelped, dodging to the side as the Lenses blasted a pair of intensely hot beams into the ground just in front of my feet. I hopped backward in shock, nearly dropping the Lenses in surprise.
    Grandpa Smedry grabbed the Lenses from behind, deactivating them. The scent of melted tar rose in the air, and I blinked, my vision marked by two bright afterimages of light.
    ‘Well, well,’ Grandpa Smedry said. ‘I told you they were easy to use.’ He glanced up at the building. ‘We should be too far away for that to have been sensed . . .’
    Great , I thought. As my vision cleared, I could see Bastille rolling her eyes.
    Sing waddled over, raising his sunglasses and inspecting the three-foot-wide disk of blackened, half-melted concrete. ‘Nice shot,’ he noted. ‘I think it’s dead now.’
    I blushed, but Grandpa Smedry just laughed. ‘Here,’ he said, slipping a small velvet bag around the Firebringer’s Lenses. He pulled the drawstring tight at the top. ‘This should keep them safe. Now, with these Lenses and your Talent, you should be able to handle pretty much anything the Librarians throw at you!’
    I accepted the glasses back, and fortunately they didn’t go off. Now, as I was telling you previously, these Lenses will probably never get used in this story. You’ll be lucky if you ever get to see them fired. Again.
    ‘Grandfather,’ I said quietly, eyeing Bastille, then stepping aside again with Grandpa Smedry. ‘I’m not sure that I can do this.’
    ‘Nonsense, lad! You’re a Smedry!’
    ‘But I didn’t even know I was until earlier today,’ I said. ‘Or . . . well, I didn’t know what being a Smedry meant. I don’t think . . . well, I’m just not ready.’
    ‘What makes you say that?’ Grandpa Smedry asked.
    ‘I tried to use my Talent earlier,’ I said. ‘To stop Bastille from smacking me with her purse. It didn’t work. And that wasn’t the first time – sometimes I just can’t make things break. And when I don’t want them to break, they usually do anyway.’
    ‘Your Talent is still wild,’ Grandpa Smedry said. ‘You haven’t practiced it enough. Being a Smedry isn’t just about having a Talent, it’s about finding out how to use that Talent. A clever person can make anything turn to his advantage, no matter how much a disadvantage it may seem at first.
    ‘No Smedry Talent is completely controllable. However, if you practice enough, you’ll begin to get a grasp on it. Eventually, you’ll be able to make things break not just when and where you want, but also how you want.’
    ‘I . . .’ I said, still uncertain.
    ‘This doesn’t sound like you, Alcatraz,’ Grandpa Smedry said. ‘Where’s that spark of spirit – that stubbornness – that you’re always tossing about?’
    I frowned. ‘How do you know what I’m like? You only just met me.’
    ‘Oh? You think I’ve left you in Librarian hands all this time, never checking in on you?’
    Of course he checked on me , I thought. Bastille mentioned something about that . ‘But you don’t know me,’ I said. ‘I mean, you didn’t even know what my Talent was.’
    ‘I suspected, lad,’ Grandpa Smedry said. ‘But I’ll admit – I usually got to your foster homes after you’d moved somewhere else. Still, I’ve been watching over you, in my own way.’
    ‘If that’s the case,’ I said, ‘then why—’
    ‘Why did I leave you to the foster homes?’ Grandpa Smedry asked. ‘I’m not that great a parent. A boy needs somebody who can arrive on time to his birthdays and ball games. Besides, there were . . . reasons for letting you grow up in this world.’
    That