Alcatraz vs. the Shattered Lens by Brandon Sanderson

please try to dress up a little bit when you read my books. Someone might see you and I have a reputation to maintain.
    I concentrated, feeding power into my Lenses, questing out for my grandfather. His face appeared in front of me, but it was fuzzy and indistinct.
    Alcatraz, lad! Grandpa said. I was hoping you'd use the Courier's Lenses. What's happening? Why doesn't the Communicator's Glass work?
    “I don t know,” I replied. "The Librarians are doing something outside the city - planting these glowing rods in the ground. That might have something to do with it.”
    Even as I spoke, one of the robots placed another of the rods. When it did, my grandfather's form fuzzed even more.
    "Grandpa," I said urgently. "Did we convince the knights?"
    Think . . . enough . . . he l p . . . Grandpa said, his voice cutting in and out. They know . . . king sti l l . . . save His Majesty . . .
    "I can't understand you!" I said. Another robot raised a rod into the air, preparing to place it.
    I raised my hands to the side of the glasses, focusing everything I had into the Lenses. I strained, teeth gritted. Shockingly, the glass started to glow, forcing me to close my eyes as they blazed alight. My grandfather’s voice, once weak, surged back, audible again.
    . . . Luring Lovecrafts, what a mess! I said I’ ve nearly got them persuaded. I' l l bring them, l ad, and anyone e l se I can get to come. We'l l be there. Hold out until morning! C an you hear me, Alcatr az? Morning's first light. Er. W e l l, no, I’ll be late. And that's been done befo re. But morning’ s second l ight, for certain. By third light at the latest. I promise!
    The robot planted the rod. My grandfather’s voice fuzzed again, and I tried another surge of power, but I’d pushed it too far. My Talent slipped through, mixing with my Oculatory power. I had trouble keeping the two separate; they were like two brightly different colors of paint, mixing and churning inside of me. Use one, and some of the other always wanted to come along.
    The Talent surged through my hands before I realized what I was doing, and the frames of the Lenses shattered, dropping the bits of glass off my eyes. I caught them clumsily. Unfortunately, after feeling that resistance, I knew that they wouldn't work again - not as long as those Librarian rods were interfering. I reluctantly slipped the Lenses back in my pocket.
    "What did he say?" Aydee asked, anxious.
    "He's coming," I replied. "With the Knights of Crystallia."
    "When?" Bastille asked.
    "Well . . . he wasn't really that specific. . . ." I grimaced. "He said dawn. Probably.”
    "Probably?" Mallo said. "Young Smedry, I'm not certain I can stake the lives of my people on a 'probably.'"
    "My grandfather is reliable,” I said. "He's never let me down."
    "Except when he arrived too late to get the Sands of Rashid before the Librarians," Bastille added. "Or . . . well, when he arrived too late to stop your mother from stealing the Translator's Lenses from the Library of Alexandria. Or when he was too late to –”
    "Thanks, Bastille," I said flatly. “Real helpful."
    "I think we're all aware of my father’s Talent,” Kaz said, stepping up beside me. "But I know Leavenworth Smedry better than anyone else, now that Mom's dead. If my pop says he'll be here with help, you can count on him. He might be a tad late, but he'll make up for it with style.”
    "Style will not protect my people from Librarian weapons," Mallo said, shaking his head. "Your help is appreciated, but your promises are flimsy."
    "Please," I said. "Your Majesty, you've got to give us a chance. At least give it until morning. What do you have to lose by sleeping on it?"
    "There will be no sleeping," Mallo said, nodding. “Look.”
    I followed the gesture. Outside the walls, the large robots had finished planting the rods into the ground. Now they were walking over to a large pile of boulders that sat just outside of the camp.
    "Our period of rest has ended,” Mallo