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

then stopped. I glanced at the corner, where the footprints had lead, then walked over and fished around in the dirt.
    There, covered by small leaves and placed in a little hollow in the ground, was a small velvet pouch. I pulled it open and to my surprise found a pair of Lenses inside, along with the note.
    Alcatraz! It read.
    I was too late to stop your father from going down into the Library. I fear for the worst! He’s always been the curious type and might be foolish enough to exchange his soul for information. I’m only a few days behind him, but the Library of Alexandria is a terrible maze of passages and corridors. I’m hoping that I’ll be able to find him and stop him before he does anything foolish.
    I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you in the airport. This seemed more important. Besides, I have the feeling you can handle things on your own.
    If you’re reading this, then you didn’t go to Nalhalla like you should have. Ha! I knew you wouldn’t. You’re a Smedry! I’ve left you a pair of Discerner’s Lenses, which should be of use to you. They’ll let you tell how old something is, just by looking at it.
    Try not to break anything too valuable if you come down below. The Curators can be a rather unpleasant bunch. Comes from being dead, I suppose. Don’t let them trick you into taking one of their books.
    Love,
    Grandpa Smedry
    P.S. If that crazy son of mine Kazan is there, smack him on the head for me.
    I lowered the note, then pulled out the Lenses. I quickly swapped them on, then glanced about the hut. They put a glow about anything I focused on – a kind of whitish shine, like you might get from sunlight reflecting off of something very pale. Except the shine was different for different objects. Most of the boards in the hut were actually downright dull, while the velvet pouch in my hand was rather bright.
    Age , I thought. They tell me how old something is – the boards were created and put there long ago. The pouch was made recently.
    I frowned myself. Why couldn’t he have left to me another pair of Firebringer’s Lenses? True, I’d broken the first pair – but that sort of thing tended to happen a lot around me.
    The thing is, Grandpa Smedry tended to place little value on offensive Lenses. He thought information was a far better weapon.
    Personally, I felt that being able to shoot superheated beams of light from your eyes was far more useful than being able to tell how old something was. But, I figured I would take what I was given.
    I left the hut, walking over to the others, who were talking about Australia’s discovery. They looked up as I approached, waiting for me again, like they had before.
    Waiting for leadership.
    Why look to me ? I thought with annoyance. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’ t even want to be in charge.
    “Lord Smedry,” Draulin said, “Should we wait for your grandfather, or should we go in after him?”
    I glanced down at the pouch and was annoyed to find that the strings had unraveled as I was walking. My Talent, acting up again. “I don’t know,” I said.
    The others looked at one another. That hadn’t been the response they’d been expecting.
    Grandpa Smedry obviously wanted me to lead the group into the Library. But what if I gave the order to go down below, and something went wrong? What if someone got hurt or got captured? Wouldn’t that be my fault?
    But, what if my father and Grandpa Smedry really needed help?
    That’s the problem with being a leader. It’s all about choices – and choices are never very much fun. If someone gives you a candy bar, you’re excited. But, if someone offers you two different candy bars and tells you that you can have only one, what then? Whichever one you take, you’ll feel that you missed out on the other one.
    And I like candy bars. What about when you have to choose between two terrible things? Did I wait, or lead my group down into danger? That was like having to choose to either eat a tarantula or a