Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book (25 page)

His argument torpedoed, the dragon shrugged.

“Give me a day or so to think about it,” he said. “The bump on my head still hurts, and I need to weigh the pros and cons of the idea.”

Hearing Chem mention that unfortunate incident made Tara grimace, but she didn't comment. At least he hadn't said no; he said he would think about it.

With a gesture to her friends, they quietly left the office.

“Whew, I'm exhausted!” said Sparrow. “Now that we've saved the world, and Cal's hide while we were at it, could we get a little sleep?”

The Living Castle obligingly added two rooms to Tara's suite. She, Fafnir, and Sparrow decided to sleep in one of them, so it provided two beds. Cal, Robin, and Fabrice chose a room with three beds. Manitou settled for the deep pile carpet.

For his part, Glul Buglul first checked to made sure that the young spellbinders didn't require his particular skills. (They turned down his idea of stealing The Forbidden Book from Master Chem, in case the wizard's answer was no.) He then explained that his kingdom needed him and left, after assuring them of his support for any enterprise that required digging or tunneling.

After a big dinner, the young friends gathered in the suite's living room before going to bed.

Robin had remembered their strange nighttime meeting with the bloody vampyr and went to see his father, the head of Lancovit's secret services. He now returned with incredible news.

“They've imprisoned Master Dragosh!” Robin said.

“No!” cried Fabrice. “You're kidding!”

“Nope. Dragosh was the only vampyr in Travia when the man we saw in the alley was killed. He's refused to open his mind to the Truth Tellers to establish his innocence, so he's been locked up. Nuts, isn't it?”

Manitou found this very surprising.

“No vampyr would ever drink human blood,” he said. “It makes them crazy and cuts their life expectancy in half. They can't ever go out in sunlight without being burned to a crisp. Which means it would be easy to determine if Dragosh is guilty: just expose him to sunlight. If he burns, there won't be any doubt.”

“That's the strangest part,” said Robin. “He refuses to expose himself. He says that while he's in prison he can't hurt anybody, so he doesn't want to be released.”

Tara just shook her head. She was so tired she couldn't think straight. Cal, who kept furiously scratching himself, was looking just as tired.

“Listen, I don't know about you, but I'm beat,” Tara said. “We can talk about all this when I've slept. Okay?”

Nobody argued, and within a few minutes, Fafnir's and Sparrow's snores were punctuating a dreamless sleep.

When Tara awoke many hours later, she spent a few moments fighting the canopy bed for her sheets, which it kept trying to tuck in. She needed to shake up her little gray cells, and especially to try to understand what was going on with her. Ever since Cal had been jailed, she'd had the distinct impression that she was being controlled somehow. An invisible puppet master was pulling the strings, and instead of acting, all she was doing was reacting. After half an hour of intense cogitation, Tara had untangled some of the threads. She didn't reach a final conclusion, but she was beginning to discern a pattern. And she didn't like what she saw.

Eventually, she sighed and got out of bed. In the bathroom she waved at the mermaid singing on the rock in her vast bathtub. The hairbrush flew over to untangle her hair, then the shower heads hovered around spraying her while the soap and the sponge energetically scrubbed her. The accessories' agitation had the effect of soothing her, and Tara relaxed. She slipped into the warm water, listening to the mermaid's melancholy song.

Well, no point worrying about all this for the time being. Their first goal was to establish Cal innocence in the empress and the victim's parents' eyes. Then they had to rid Fafnir of her inconvenient host. Finally, Tara could look for—no, hunt down—whoever was trying to kill her and make him stop ruining her life.

One thing Tara enjoyed in this world was that being a teenager didn't mean being powerless. Against her enemy, Tara had a lot of power, though she always had to examine her conscience before using it, because of the blood oath. She'd never wanted to risk hurting her grandmother.

While Tara was soaking and pondering, Master Chem was also going over recent events in his office. What a pleasure this all is, he thought.

Dragons love unexpected developments. Once they had dealt with the demons' terrible threat to the universe, they'd been bored stiff. The adrenaline rush of danger, the anguish of defeat, the powerful thrill of victory—they missed all that.

The dragons had compensated by becoming deeply involved in the lives of OtherWorld's peoples. Politics was fascinating; something was always happening. For the dragons, who risked dying of boredom, any kind of action was necessary. Even wars, deadly as they are, were welcome. But that was something no one else could ever know. If the day came when the human and nonhuman peoples realized they were being manipulated, the dragons—for all their power—wouldn't be able to stand up to their anger.

Which was why the dragon conclave refused to participate in a special training exercise to increase one small group of spellbinders' powers. They feared, correctly, that their students might become more powerful than they were.

Obviously, Chem had disobeyed them.

And just as obviously, events had blown up in his face. Those spellbinders became the monstrous Bloodgraves, forged a pact with the demons, and tried to conquer OtherWorld and the rest of the universe.

Tara was Chem's favorite human. The little spellbinder had no idea what plans he had in store for her. She was probably the one he had been waiting centuries to find.

She had to like him. Chem had to become like the father she never had. He would do everything that was required for that. Once again he chuckled, rubbing his claws with joy. The years ahead would be completely fascinating!

By the time Tara and her friends entered Chem's office, they had rehearsed all the arguments they had to convince him. But that turned out to be completely unnecessary.

The dragon master greeted them with startling cheerfulness. “Good morning, good morning! Ready to take a little trip to Limbo?”

This left them flat-footed with astonishment, which made the big saurian chuckle. “What's the matter, cat got your tongue? No cries of enthusiasm? No jumps for joy? No, ‘Thank you, thank you, oh wise High Wizard, for letting us risk our lives in those disgusting realms'? I'm very disappointed.”

“Does this . . . does this mean you agree?” stammered Tara, who was having trouble believing her ears.

“Not only do I agree, but I'm coming with you!”

Manitou looked at him suspiciously. “You didn't seem especially convinced yesterday. What made you change your mind?”

“Ah, you're as stubborn as a mule. If I said no, you would just pester me to death. Besides, without me along the demons would tear you to pieces. That's messy, and it has consequences. So, I'd rather be there to protect you. Otherwise, you wouldn't stand a chance.”

“Thanks,” said Cal, who'd been apprehensive about the trip. “Your help will be very valuable.”

“You can thank me when we get back. So, what exactly was your plan?”

“We have to appear before the statue of the Limbo Judge,” said Sparrow. “He'll summon the dead boy's manes. We'll explain that Cal wasn't the one who caused his death. The Judge will confirm this, and we'll record his judgment with a taludi. With any luck, the boy will finger the real culprit this time. The Demon King played a dirty trick on Tara by infecting her with demonic magic on our last visit, so we thought we would transform ourselves so the demons wouldn't recognize us.”

“Hmm, not bad,” rumbled Chem. “Since I'm more powerful than you, I'll take charge of your transformation. And I have some experience with demons. I know what they like and what they don't. Manitou, you can keep your dog shape. You weren't with us on our last visit, so the demons don't know you. But the rest of you will have to leave your familiars behind.”

Barune trumpeted indignantly, and the old dragon frowned.

“That mammoth isn't going to do anything stupid in my office while I'm away, will he?” he asked, sounding anxious.

“I'll give him some red bananas and let him out in the park,” said Fabrice. “He'll be good. At least I hope so.”

Robin looked bothered. “I don't suppose I can bring my bow, can I?”

“No, any more than Fafnir can bring her axe. Your weapons are too recognizable.”

“The bow's not going to like that.”

“See, that's the problem with magical weapons,” said Fafnir. “When I put my axe down someplace, it stays there. I bet you'll have to negotiate with your little stick. It's ridiculous!”

The half-elf nodded his white head with its odd black streaks, but didn't answer. The dwarf was right, unfortunately. Robin could already hear the bow's outraged mental protests.

“I don't know how long we're going to be away,” said the dragon. “In fact, I hope it's as short a time as possible. All right, take off your clothes.”

“I beg your pardon?” asked Sparrow, suddenly blushing.

“I have to transform your bodies, and spellbinder robes aren't very common in Limbo,” Chem patiently explained. “You'll have to change their color and pattern so they fit your new shapes. So just keep your underwear on while I transform you.”

Fafnir looked at him strangely. “What underwear? I just have my shirt and my pants. I've never understood why you need to cover yourself with so many layers of clothes, anyway.”

“Oh, all right,” said the embarrassed dragon. “I'll make do.”

The transformation experience wasn't very pleasant. When spellbinders want to change their appearance, they usually cast a light spell that doesn't involve major morphological modifications. In this case, the dragon had to add lots of extra fangs, eyes, legs, and tentacles. The results were pretty striking.

Tara shrank to an irregular ball dotted with dark purple blotches and covered with tentacles. When she put her robe on, it first strained to adapt to the new shape and then, to her great surprise, turned into a mustard yellow jacket and Bermuda shorts. Robin, whose head looked like a big asparagus, was now black and white all over and had acquired an extra mouth and a half-dozen legs. Knowing how touchy Fafnir could be, Chem had been cautious with her. He merely turned her skin a handsome gray, gave her a long tail with a stinger, and sprinkled her head with hissing snakes. Overall, it was quite exotic. (The dwarf complained loudly, though, when the tail burst through her fancy red leather pants.)

Fabrice was given a set of sharp chitinous insect arms, and eight spider legs. Cal grew to the size of a powerful demon with leathery skin and the ears and trunk of an elephant, which Barune found very unsettling. Sparrow looked like a half-peeled zucchini married to a snail. Manitou was allowed to keep his dog body, but the dragon added fifty eyes to it. Chem himself grew two extra heads, shrank to a quarter of his size, and traded his scaly skin for that of a slimy slug.

It was a total success.

They couldn't carry weapons to Demonic Limbo, but the dragon outfitted them with enough sharp claws and fangs to cut to ribbons anyone who bothered them. Tiny ribbons.

The first trouble came when Fabrice and Robin tried to walk. Their extra legs got tangled up, and the boys promptly tripped and crashed to the floor.

“Good grief, couldn't you remove a couple of these legs?” groused Fabrice, pushing Barune aside, who was licking his face with delight. “I'll never learn to use them all at the same time.”

“You've got to practice!” said the dragon severely. “Our disguises must be perfect. One slip-up and we're dead.”

“That's a pretty compelling argument,” said Robin, who was trying to untangle his limbs. “Let's see if they work this way . . .”

Two chairs and a table became the innocent victims of their uncontrolled lurching, but the boys eventually managed to remain upright. The dragon taught them all how to use their various appendages. Fafnir's tail proved particularly lethal, which delighted her.

After a couple hours of practice they were more or less comfortable in their new bodies.

“Good; now for the details,” said Chem. “I can maintain these new appearances for several days, if needed. The bodies are perfectly adapted to Limbo, and of course much stronger than your normal ones. But maintaining your disguises this way reduces my magical capacities a lot. So, if we have to fight or defend ourselves, be prepared to revert to your initial shape, which, I remind you, is much more vulnerable. So please, don't try anything fancy.

“Let's go over the etiquette rules for life in the infernal worlds. Politeness aside, it's wise to let a bigger demon go ahead of you. Be respectful of the strong and contemptuous of the weak. Don't be surprised, shout, or get upset if you see one demon devouring another. Those people are complete cannibals. We'll be in a group, so they shouldn't bother us. But stick together, and don't ever leave my side. Got that?”

Now looking a bit pale, the friends nodded silently.

“I made a mistake last time by transporting you to Limbo mentally but not physically,” Chem continued. “This time everything should work fine. Step inside this circle of powdered gambole I just drew, and close your eyes.”

They obeyed, but Chem spoke again: “Manitou!”

“What?”

“I said close your eyes!”

“You think it's easy?” grumbled the dog, who was struggling to close his four dozen eyes all at the same time.

He finally managed, and the dragon cried, “Sparidam!”

The next instant, they were in Limbo.

They rematerialized in a city swarming with demons. Which was logical, since it was a demonic city, though that didn't make it any more pleasant.