Crystal Doors #3: Sky Realm (No. 3) (8 page)

“I bet it’s not greater than the Cogitarium in Elantya,” Vic said a bit defensively.

“It is not a competition,” Lyssandra pointed out.

The Vizier tugged his braided beard. “Indeed not. The library here may not be greater, but it is far different. In fact, young lady,” he said with a nod toward Tiaret, “I believe you will be interested to learn that we keep a copy of the Great Epic from Afirik that is current at all times.”

Tiaret smiled with genuine delight. “In that case, I believe I have some chapters to add.”

With a swirl of his multicolored robe, Jabir said, “Come with me,” and led them back down the tower stairs.

CONSTRUCTED FROM SMOOTH IVORY stone in the shape of a twenty-pointed starburst, the Grand Library of Irrakesh had long arched galleries radiating from a domed central hub. Each branching gallery terminated in a colonnaded veranda. The library floors were inlaid with crystals and marble arranged in complex geometric patterns that, according to Jabir, indicated the subject of the information stored in that area.

The Grand Library of Irrakesh was a technological marvel, filled with books and scrolls, all arranged according to a precise numeric system and stored on shelf after shelf that rotated in an intricate system of noiseless gears and pulleys that could bring any bookshelf down to eye level depending on which text was needed. Unlike the Cogitarium, in this library there was no need for skrits to deliver scrolls. Carrier moths fluttered in the central crystalline dome, enjoying the bright sunlight.

After hours of research beside a beautiful mosaic-tiled fountain filled with cool drinking water, the Vizier called a halt to the intense studying. “I believe we now know what we must. All of my reading indicates that your individual skills will be revealed through conscious or unconscious action before they are needed.

“In fact, many of you may have already exhibited your skills without realizing it.”

“Meaning?” Vic said.

Tiaret tapped her quarterstaff on her leather-clad foot so as to avoid making noise in the library and said, “I am already aware of my skill. I learned on the way here that I can immediately shut a crystal door at will.”

The Vizier looked impressed. “That could be quite a useful defense against enemies invading from another world.”

“But the rest of us don’t really know what our gifts are,” Vic said.

As the cousins described how they had come to be in Elantya and what they had done since arriving, the Vizier became excited. “So although Sage Pierce is a Key, he did not send you through the original sealed crystal door that led from Earth to Elantya?”

“Our mothers broke the seal on the door years ago,” Gwen said.

Vic added, “And Dad followed us through the original door to Elantya just recently. But no, that’s not the one we came through.”

“Then I believe,” Jabir said, “that one of you has a power that no sage or Vizier has possessed in five thousand years: creating a new crystal door where none existed before.”

“Oh, but we didn’t create it. Uncle Cap set up crystals and made calculations,” Gwen said.

“Right,” Vic agreed, waving his hands like a magician. “If one of us had that kind of skill, then all we’d have to do is kind of think hard about it and hey — Open, Sesame — the door would appear. We know that —” Vic’s jaw dropped. For there, behind the trickling fountain, a giant crystalline arch had appeared, glittering like a kaleidoscope of pastel glass shards. And through that arch flew a heavy spear. It passed over their heads and harmlessly struck a wall. Several arrows whizzed through the archway and with reflexes born of their special
zy’oah
training, Gwen and Vic ducked out of the way.

A pair of warriors with raised spears and axes charged through the arch and surveyed the chamber with greedy eyes. Then, with shouts and beckoning motions they stepped back through, as if planning to bring others with them.

Tiaret jumped to her feet, quarterstaff upraised, and the arch disappeared. “I closed it,” she said unnecessarily.

“What
was
that place?” Lyssandra asked, her eyes wide. “They were saying something like, ‘Come quickly.’”

“Did you create that door, Taz?” Gwen asked. “It wasn’t me.”

Vic thought back to what had happened. “I . . . it wasn’t conscious. I was just saying how it would have to work — and it just did.”

Gwen shuddered. “Well, I sure hope you learn to control it better than that. It’s a lucky thing Tiaret was here.”

“I believe our gifts are meant to be used together,” the warrior girl said.

“All the more reason not to split up our Key Ring,” Vic pointed out.

“I believe the Prince will find a way to discharge his duties — all of them,” the Vizier said. “Just as the rest of you will very soon learn your gifts.”

“Um, maybe gifts later, food now.” Vic’s stomach rumbled. “Suddenly I’m starved.”

Tiaret nodded. “I am quite hungry, as well.”

“Huh!” Vic said. “Who knew that using magic — even unconsciously — could take so much out of you?”

9

ON THE DAY OF the scheduled diplomatic meeting with King Raathun and the aeglors, the city of Irrakesh floated across the skies and stopped over a densely forested valley. Unlike the area from which Irrakesh had been uprooted, Azric had not cursed this part of the world. The enormous floating city drifted lower, controlled somehow by Viziers working their air magic.

Vic rushed from one balcony to another, looking down. For two days they had wandered across the empty sky, looking down at a cracked brown desert and a few dry lake beds. During the night, though, they had arrived at an entirely different terrain.

As Irrakesh settled into its new location in the sky, dropping close to the treetops, Vic looked down to see that the forest was not composed of normal trees. Rather than stiff and sturdy trunks, the trees rose on thick, fleshy ribbons of blue-green vegetation held aloft by lighter-than-air bladders, natural helium balloons that lifted the heavy growths high into the sky where flat, ribbonlike leaves spread out to form a canopy.

Vic was reminded of a waving kelp forest under the water, the thick doolya weed that had given them an underwater hiding place when he and his friends were running from the merlons. He saw rounded structures built into the leaves and the thick, fleshy stalks — wooden houses that looked like makeshift nests.

Sharif came to Vic’s side out in the warm open air; sapphire blue pennants flapped in the breeze above the balcony. Piri bobbed faithfully along beside him.

“Friend Viccus, the court tailor has provided new clothes for you. We are about to meet representatives of the aeglors, and I would be honored if you would wear princely garb. Gwenya, Tiaretya, and Lyssandra are already dressing themselves in appropriate raiment.”

Vic picked up a billowing shirt of shimmering aquamarine fabric. “Hey, this is almost the color of my eyes.”

“That was intentional, Viccus.”

Vic held up puffy pantaloons, pointed shoes, and a gold sash. “I’m going to look like Ali Baba.”

“You will look like a noble prince,” Sharif corrected. “Was this Ali Baba a great prince in your world?”

“No . . . he was a thief.”

Sharif snorted. “Then let us hope you look more distinguished than Ali Baba.”

After the young man left, Vic dressed as best he could, but the awkward fittings were confusing to him. Two servants fussed over him, adjusting the folds of light green cloth, cinching the sash a bit tighter, then shaking their heads in disappointment. Apparently he had put the pointed shoes on the wrong feet — something to do with the pattern of embroidery on the side, he was given to understand — but even when he switched them, he couldn’t tell any difference. Nevertheless, the servants pronounced him ready. . . .

As Irrakesh cast a great shadow down upon the ribbony canopy of the kelptree forest, Vic noticed a flurry of activity, people moving about, sprinting along the supple leaves and branches. They seemed to be carrying something large and curved on their backs. Then a dozen of the strange-looking men bounced on the flexible leaves and jumped upward, using them like diving boards on a swimming pool. The dark things on their backs were not packs, but revealed themselves to be large brown-feathered wings! Like great condors, they flapped together and winged up into the sky.

Gwen rushed to the balcony. “Taz, did you see it? Do you see them down there?”

“They must be the aeglors. They remind me of barbarian angels.” Then he did a double take as he glanced at his cousin. “Wow. What happened to you?”

“Just a minor wardrobe change,” she said, turning in a slow pirouette. Her head was draped with beautiful scarves that were violet like her eyes. Golden bangles dangled from her sleeves and wrists and waist.

“You look like a princess from the Arabian nights. Even better than that I-Dream-of-Jeannie outfit you wore for Guise Night.”

“Don’t you dare make any cracks about belly dancing,” Gwen said, although he knew she had always wanted to try it. He and his father had often gone with Gwen to a local Moroccan restaurant, where they sat on cushions on the floor, ate exotic food with their fingers, and watched beautiful belly dancers perform. Gwen punched his shoulder. “You look like Ali Baba yourself.”

He sniffed and lifted his chin. “I do not. Ali Baba was a thief, and I have it on the best authority that
I
look like a prince.”

Hundreds of aeglors flew up from their forest city, past the rugged and rocky underbelly of Irrakesh, diving and soaring in the sky. Their wingspans were very wide. Shirtless and very well muscled, all of the men carried clubs and swords at their waists.

“The aeglors do look like good fighters,” he said. “I’d rather have them on our side than attacking us.”

“The question is, what are the terodax like?” Gwen said.

In the sky above he heard loud, shrill cries, like the screams of vultures, but he realized it was the aeglors singing some kind of noble battle cry. With a flurry of heavy wings, they all descended toward the palace. Hundreds of aeglors circled, then settled down onto the numerous balconies and roof tops like a flock of crows. One bare-chested and thick-bearded man was larger than the others; his wingspan was truly majestic. Just from appearances, Vic suspected that this was probably Raathun, their leader.

Gongs sounded. Bugles blasted notes from the tall towers of Irrakesh. Tiaret and Lyssandra came into Vic’s room, calling for him and Gwen. “We are summoned to the Sultan’s main court. Sharif wants us there for the diplomatic ceremony.”

Vic took one last glance down at the ribbony, floating forest of blue-green kelptrees where the aeglors made their homes, then he looked up at his friends and was momentarily stunned. Although he couldn’t remember ever seeing Tiaret in anything other than her animal skins, today she wore crimson scarves tucked into her waistband all around, so that the scarves formed a kind of filmy skirt. Another scarf fastened to her shoulder straps rippled behind her like a gauzy superhero’s cape.

Lyssandra was dressed in a sheer outfit similar to Gwen’s, but in a rich emerald green. The diaphanous material flowed with her every movement.

“You, uh . . .” He cleared his throat and started again. “You all look amazing.”

Lyssandra blushed. “Would you do us the honor of escorting us to the throne room?”

“You bet!” Vic grinned. “I wouldn’t want to miss this for anything.”

10

HIS FATHER’S THRONE ROOM was just as Sharif remembered it, and today the Sultan demanded that his only surviving son stand at his right hand beside Jabir. The only weapon in the chamber was the Sultan’s heavy, curved ceremonial sword, leaning against the back of the throne.

Looking out across the courtiers and the audience in the great chamber, Sharif felt tired and apprehensive. Earlier, he had tried to present his case to his father in private. Not only had the Sultan brushed aside Sharif’s explanation of the Key Ring, Azric’s plan to invade the worlds, and his son’s need to assist Elantya, the dying man had insisted on taking a higher-than-usual dose of the preservative medicine that kept the poison at bay in his body. Although the ruler wanted to appear healthy as he signed his treaty with the aeglors, Sharif’s father betrayed his anxiety by constantly fidgeting with the jewel-encrusted flute he kept tucked into the sash at his waist. Before Hashim’s death, the Sultan had often played the flute for his children.

Sharif felt uncomfortable, too, because today he wore princely garb of the finest silks in cream and purple and red and gold. Instead of having his friends beside him, he stood on display for all to see while Vic, Gwen, Tiaret, and Lyssandra, who had just entered looking out of breath, watched from the back of the room. Piri had almost been banished from the throne room as an unnecessary distraction, but Sharif had put his foot down and his father had finally agreed to let the nymph djinni hover hidden behind the Prince’s back.

Just then a commotion went up at the back of the room as half a dozen aeglors entered the chamber and, with wings spread wide, marched six abreast toward the throne. Sharif was shocked to see that the largest, most majestic of the aeglors carried a short sword in a sheath at his side. People scattered out of the way, and the aeglors strode up the stairs onto the dais. From the corner of his eye, Sharif could see Tiaret raise the “walking stick” he had given her as she prepared to defend her friend if necessary. Because his people had not trusted the aeglors as long as he could remember, Sharif found he was not averse to being prepared. He was grateful to know his friends were here if trouble should arise.