Free Alcatraz Versus the Evil Librarians by Brandon Sanderson

hideout.”
    “And the third thing we have going for us?”
    Grandpa Smedry smiled. “Nobody would expect us to try something like this! It’s completely insane.”
    Great , I thought.
    “Now,” he said, “you might want to take off those Oculator’s Lenses – they’re the only thing that makes you distinctive right now.”
    I quickly did so.
    “Quentin will stay in the lobby and inner stacks for a good five minutes or so – watching for any signs of unusual patterns in Librarian movement or security – meaning we have a little bit of time here. Try to wait without looking suspicious.”
    I nodded, and Grandpa Smedry wandered over to peek through another window. I lounged with my back against a lamp pole, trying not to break it. It was hard to remain still, considering my anxiety. As I thought about it, the three things Grandpa said we had going for us didn’t seem to provide much of an advantage at all. I tried to calm my nerves.
    A few minutes later, a clink sounded behind me as Sing set down his gym bag of weaponry. I jumped slightly, eyeing the bag – I wasn’t really that fond of the idea of having my toes shot off by an “ancient” weapon.
    “Alcatraz,” Sing said. “Your grandfather tells me that you grew up raised by Hushlander parents!”
    “Um, yes,” I said slowly.
    “Wonderful!” Sing said. “Tell me, tell me. What is the significance of this ?” He proffered something small and yellow which he had likely found in the gutter.
    “Uh, it’s just a bottle cap,” I said.
    “Yes,” Sing said, peering at it through his sunglasses, “I’m aware of your primitive liquid beverage packaging methods. But look, see here. What’s this on the underneath ?”
    I accepted the bottle cap. On the underside, I could see printed the words YOU ARE NOT A WINNER.
    “See what it says?” Sing asked, pointing with a chubby finger. “Is it common for Hushlanders to print insults on their foodstuffs? What is the purpose of this advertising campaign? Is it to make the consumer feel less secure, so they purchase more highly caffeinated drinks?”
    “It’s just a contest,” I said. “Some of the bottles are winners, some aren’t.”
    Sing frowned. “Why would a bottle want to win a prize? In fact, how do bottles even go about claiming prizes? Have they been Alivened? Don’t your people understand that Alivening things is dark Oculary?”
    I rolled my eyes. “It’s not Oculary, Sing. If you open the bottle and the cap says you’re a winner, then you can claim a prize.”
    “Oh.” He seemed a bit disappointed. Still, he carefully tucked the cap inside a pouch at his waist.
    “Why do you care about that anyway?” I asked. “Aren’t you an ancient weapons expert?”
    “Yes, well,” Sing said, “an ancient weapons expert, and an ancient clothing expert, and an ancient cultures expert.”
    “He’s an anthropologist, lad,” Grandpa Smedry said from beside the library window. “One of the most famous ones at the Mokian Royal University. That’s why he’s part of the team.”
    “Wait,” I said. “He’s a professor?”
    “Of course,” Grandpa Smedry said. “Who else would be able to work those blasted guns? The civilized world hasn’t used such things for centuries! We figured that we should have someone who can use them – swords might be more effective, but nobody carries them in the Hushlands. It’s better to have at least one person on the team who understands and can use local weapons, just to be sure.”
    Sing nodded eagerly. “But don’t worry,” he said. “I may not be a soldier, but I’ve practiced with the weapons quite a bit. I’ve… never shot at something moving before, but how difficult can it be?”
    I stood quietly, then turned to Grandpa Smedry. “And what about Quentin? Is he a professor too?”
    Sing laughed. “No, no. He’s just a graduate student.”
    “He’s quite capable, though,” Grandpa Smedry said. He’s a language specialist who focuses on