Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book (24 page)

“I hate this,” said Manitou with a sigh. “But go ahead and give us the good news first.”

Iznogud smiled, revealing an impressive, if slightly yellowed, set of teeth.

“Your friend was bitten by a golden t'sil,” he explained. “When it paralyzed him, its stinger made this small golden mark in his flesh.”

With a claw, he pointed to a tiny spot on Cal's neck.

“So, the good news is that no other t'sil will bite your friend. That mark protects him. The bad news is that golden t'sil are the most virulent of the worms. There's no antidote against them!”

“But the merchant said . . .” stammered the blue gnome, his heart in his mouth.

“What the merchant told you was nonsense. Either because he didn't know, or he didn't care. Golden t'sil are
never
used on slaves. We only use them in cases of vengeance, or when we're executing someone and want to make sure they don't survive. So I'm very sorry, but there's nothing we can do for you.

“Oh, one more thing. Golden t'sil reproduce faster than other parasite worms. So you probably don't have more than a few minutes to live, young man. And if you'd kindly go die somewhere else, I'd appreciate it. This place is enough of a mess as it is.”

Before they could protest, he signaled the guards to escort them out.

Tara was so furious she felt like blowing up the place—a project the living stone approved enthusiastically.

After considering the idea for a few seconds and seeing her hands start to glow from the rush of magic, Tara decided to calm down before she lost all control of her power.

And destroyed the building.

Not to mention the city and part of the continent.

Sparrow had tears in her eyes, and she wasn't alone. “Oh, Cal, what are we going to do?”

Cal didn't answer. He was pale and his eyes were empty.

“We're gonna turn this town upside down and find the antidote!” shouted Fafnir. She'd kept quiet during the exchange, and it had taken all her restraint not to sink her axe into the arrogant Salterian's head.

“Fafnir's right,” said Fabrice, who'd been feeling terribly guilty since the incident with Barune. “We'll split up into groups and use our crystal balls to communicate. That way we can cover more ground.”

Though she was weeping, Tara again had the momentary thought that she was overlooking something.

Cal pulled himself together and said, “No, we aren't. I want to go back to Lancovit. I want to be with my mother and father when I die.”

His voice broke on the last word, and Tara thought her own heart would break. Robin put an affectionate arm around her.

“But you—” Fabrice protested.

“Fabrice, I only have a few minutes to live,” said Cal with dignity. “And stop feeling bad. You and Barune aren't to blame. This is my fate, that's all. Let's go now. I don't have much time left.”

With heavy hearts, they followed him out. The walk to the embassy cheated them of time they no longer had. They rematerialized directly in the Living Castle. Cal appeared in his real identity, having decided there was no point in disguising himself. Shyblossomonthebankofaclearstream, the tall one-eyed steward, sensed that something terrible was happening and gestured to them to step out of the Transfer Circle. The guards raised their spears. Seeing the group's look of desperation led them not to ask any questions. Cal radiated so much maturity and sober dignity that they instinctively saluted.

“We need to see Master Chem,” said Manitou quickly. “Is he here?”

“Yes, Master Duncan,” answered the steward. “He's in his office, recovering from his concussion. The shaman advised him not to use any portals for the time being.”

“Shoot,” murmured the dog. “I'd forgotten that Tara knocked him out. Well, let's go. We don't have a second to lose.”

“Can you also alert my parents?” asked Cal. “Tell them that I've been hurt and don't have long to live. I want them here so they can say goodbye to me.”

The Cyclops was very surprised, because the young thief looked fit as a fiddle. But he agreed without arguing.

As they hesitated at the entrance to Master Chem's office-cave, the little stone dragon guard challenged them.

“Stop right there!” he roared. “Identify yourselves, or get lost!”

“Wow! He doesn't seem in a very good mood,” whispered Fabrice.

“Now, now, is that any way to greet visitors?” the stone unicorn, Chem's other office guard, said kindly. “Just because thieves broke into the office is no reason for you to be rude to everybody.”

The little dragon sniffed contemptuously without answering. They gave him their identities and he crossed through the wall to alert Master Chem.

The roar that could be heard through said wall made them tremble. “By my pile of gold! Get those wretches in here right away!”

The stone dragon came back looking very pleased with himself.

“You may go in,” he announced. “I think my master is quite eager to see you.”

Cal was so wrapped up in his troubles that he was the only one among them who didn't dread the confrontation. The others were feeling shaky around the knees and had a heart rate much too high for comfort.

When the stone wall disappeared they could see the dragon stretched out on a big pile of gold and jewels. From the flames he was spouting, he seemed furious.

Chem opened his great jaws to bellow at them, but Cal was faster.

“I've been bitten by a golden t'sil,” he said. “If you don't have the antidote or a cure for me in the next few minutes, I'm going to . . . I'm going to die.”

His voice broke and he staggered.

The astonished dragon closed his jaws with a loud snap. Then he got up, cast a spell, and shape-shifted back into old Master Chem.

“Show me,” he ordered, all thought of punishment forgotten.

Cal lifted his hair to show the t'sil's mark. Chem quizzed him about the circumstances of the infection and the time that had passed since then. They saw the old wizard go pale when he realized how many days Cal had been carrying the t'sil eggs.

“We have to isolate you,” he said quickly. “As soon as the t'sil emerge from your body, they'll jump onto the nearest thing that moves. I'm very sorry, but we don't have any choice.”

Before Cal could protest he cast a spell, enveloping the boy in a plastic bubble that let air, light, and sound through, but not matter.

“Chem!” protested Manitou. “Isn't there anything we can do?”

The dragon turned on him furiously.

“If you hadn't decided to go off to save the world all by yourselves, then yes, I could've saved him!” he thundered, as the Lab backed away. “But with
The Forbidden Book
stolen, I don't have the spell I need to destroy the t'sil without killing Cal!”

“The Forbidden Book?”
cried Tara. “We have it! It's in Smallcountry!”

The dragon wasted no time on questions.

“So get a move on!” he roared. “Why are you still here? Bring me that book right away!”

Tara grabbed the gnome king by the collar and rushed out of the office so fast she almost hit the wall. The castle, which didn't like people running in its hallways because it tickled, quivered with indignation, but Tara raced along, ignoring Buglul's demand to be put down. Gallant flew behind her at top speed.

She was gasping when she reached the Transfer Portal Room, where a majestic matron with two giggling, fidgety babies was waiting for the portal to be available. Tara didn't mess around. Ignoring the matron and the Cyclops's outraged cries she shoved them aside, took their place in the middle of the room, and screamed, “Smallcountry!”

The moment she reached the land of the blue gnomes, she restored Gallant to his normal size and leaped on his back. They reached the Throne Room in minutes. Before Tara could toss him off, the gnome king slipped down from the pegasus and ordered his arachnes to give him
The Forbidden Book.
Then he jumped onto Gallant's back. The magnificent stallion beat all speed records racing back to the portal. Once at the Living Castle they flew directly from the Portal Room to Chem's office.

When they entered, they were greeted by a terrible scene.

Under his father, mother, the dragon, and his friends' horrified eyes, Cal was rolling on the ground, tortured by the itching of the worms that were eating him alive.

D
uring the transfer from Smallcountry, The Forbidden Book almost seemed to struggle in Tara's grasp. She quickly handed it to Master Chem, praying that they weren't too late. Touching the book as little as possible, the old wizard set it on his desk and started turning pages at top speed.

Suddenly Manitou's voice broke through Cal's groaning. “There's something I don't understand. They should have come out long ago.”

Cal's mother and father, eyes wide and faces wet with tears, stared at him in dismay.

“I mean the t'sil worms,” he explained. “It usually takes them just a few seconds to emerge from their host's body. And here . . . nothing!”

“Of course!” Tara's yell made them all jump. “They aren't going to come out! That's the thing I wasn't able to remember!”

She turned feverishly to the gnome king.

“That merchant of yours—he told you that t'sil never infect dead bodies, right?”

Buglul blinked in surprise, then answered: “Er, that is right. If the heart of the infected organism is not beating, the eggs die immediately for lack of oxygen.”

“And that's exactly what happened to us!” she exulted. “We died! Grandpa, after the Inanimus and the Destructus hit us, you said it took Master Chem four minutes to get back to his office and that he was just barely able to save us, right?”

“Right,” said Manitou, who was beginning to understand. “But your hearts . . . your hearts hadn't been beating since Robin and Fafnir carried you out of the Book Room.”

“That was the thing that was always in the back of my mind!” said Tara. “The eggs couldn't survive. The itching Cal is feeling now is probably caused by his body getting rid of them.”

“Good grief, couldn't you have thought of this sooner?” cried Fabrice, who had to sit down because his legs were shaking so hard. “My own heart is going to fail if I get another scare like that.”

Robin, Sparrow, and Fafnir burst out laughing, soon followed by everyone else. They had come so close to disaster that the laughter had a slightly hysterical edge, and they pounded each other on the back in congratulations. The friendly tap that Fafnir gave Fabrice practically knocked his lungs out. After that, he kept a safe distance from her for the rest of the celebration.

Cal, who was still being driven crazy by the itching, finally opened an eye. He felt tense and a bit annoyed.

“Could I have a little peace and quiet so I can die?” he grumbled. “What's all the racket about?”

“I have good news and bad news,” said Robin with a smile, seizing the occasion.

“Oh no, not again!”

“The good news is that you're not going to die,” continued the jubilant half-elf. “The bad news is that we're going to have to continue putting up with you.”

At that, Cal opened his other eye. “I'm not going to die?”

“No, you already did that.”

Catching Cal by surprise wasn't easy, but this time it was a complete success. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and growled: “Well, if this is heaven, I'm going to have a little chat with the owner. Because you don't look at all like an angel.”

He suddenly caught on. “Hey, wait a minute! It's true, I already died once! So the eggs—”

He wasn't able to continue. Master Chem had canceled the isolation bubble and his mother and father were burying him with hugs. They were shouting, “Good Lord, Cal, don't you ever do something like this again!” and, “I was so frightened, Cal! Never, ever, again—okay?” When his tousled head eventually emerged, he looked a little embarrassed.

Wiping away her tears of joy, Cal's mother spoke: “I don't understand everything about your adventures, but you're all right, and that's the main thing. What's supposed to happen now?”

“Er, we can't tell you everything, Mom; it's a little complicated,” said Cal, feeling a little awkward. “But when it's all done I promise you'll get the whole story.”

Cal's mother said nothing, but from the way she looked at him, Tara got the idea that the story better be worthwhile. She hadn't much liked the t'sil trick, but her sharp political instincts told her that the friends needed to talk without anyone else around. When she was sure that everything really was fine, she made Cal promise to stop by later and then went home with her husband.

As soon as they left, Fafnir told Master Chem about her partial possession by the Ravager. He had heard something about the story, but he hadn't been part of the group that imprisoned the Ravager on the Island of Black Roses five thousand years earlier, so it was hard for him to gauge the danger. He offered to research the best way to help Fafnir.

“Very well,” he said. “Now that I'm up to date on your initiatives, I'm going to put the book back in place and—”

“No!” cried Tara in alarm. “As Cal explained, we absolutely must consult the Judge of Souls in the demonic world. And we need The Forbidden Book to gain access to Limbo.”

“Don't you think you've done enough harebrained things already?”

“Oh, cut it out, Chem!” snapped Manitou. “The only reason you're complaining is that you would've liked to be with us. We all know that you dragons fear boredom more than anything. So don't give me your offended patriarch nonsense. Tara's right. Cal can't remain a fugitive all his life. We have to prove he's innocent. And the only way to do that is to go to Limbo.”