Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book (4 page)

Tara carefully packed her gold immuta-credits as well as her magic map. This was the extraordinary map she had originally bought for Isabella, but kept for herself when it turned out to be incredibly useful.
Too bad,
thought Tara.
I'll get Grandma something else on OtherWorld.

For his part, Robin put the green twig of the living tree in one of his pockets. A gift from the grateful tree, it had the power to make any plant sprout and grow in seconds. Fabrice took a half-dozen cartoons and comic books. He explained to his surprised friends that he had trouble falling asleep without reading, but found OtherWorld books too exciting for his taste.

The young spellbinders then slipped away to the stables to get Gallant, who was waiting for them. Robin changed the pegasus into a large dog, which made the handsome white stallion speechless with indignation.

It only took them a few minutes to walk over to Besois-Giron Castle. Busy with his rosebushes, Igor the gardener only gave them a distracted wave. When they pushed the large entry door open, it creaked, startling them.

“Wait for me here,” whispered Fabrice when they were inside. “I'll go get the Transfer Room keys from the office.”

“I thought your father always carried them in his pocket,” murmured Tara.

“He does, but there's an extra copy, just in case. It'll only take me a minute.”

Just to be on the safe side, Tara and Robin hid behind the suits of armor lining the castle's black-and-white tiled entryway. Tara felt torn between a deep concern about Cal and regret at leaving her mother, with whom she had so recently been reunited. She didn't like magic, which kept intruding in her life willy-nilly. She had no faith in OtherWorld justice and hated the idea of having to go back there. But to help Cal, she was prepared to confront all the demons of Limbo.

Standing beside Tara and looking at her out of the corner of his eye, Robin felt awkward and agitated. He admired her long blond hair, with that distinctive white forelock, and her unusual deep blue eyes. She was so beautiful; it sometimes made him catch his breath.

“What if this is all a trap?” he whispered. “Magister knows it's hard to get to you on Earth. Suppose he's concocted this whole business as a way of luring you to OtherWorld?”

“I thought of that,” Tara somberly replied, absentmindedly grabbing her white strand and chewing on it. “But what choice do we have? Trap or no trap, we can't leave Cal all alone.”

“You're probably right. But let's keep our eyes peeled.”

While they were talking, Fabrice was upstairs on the third floor, sweating bullets. His plan had hit a snag.

The spare keys were in his father's office all right. The problem was, so was his father.

Standing behind the half-open door, Fabrice took a deep breath and recited: “By Somnolus, please catch some z's, so you won't hear me take the keys.”

Because magic is so much weaker on Earth, Fabrice's father didn't get sleepy right away. The boy waited, annoyed at the idea that he might have to ask his friends for help. But then his father's eyelids began to droop. He rubbed his eyes, let his head slump, and started snoring.

So far so good. Now Fabrice had to get the keys. How he wished Cal were with him. The little thief would have searched the room three times while Fabrice was mustering all his courage to take a single step.

Tiptoeing as quietly as possible, he headed toward the desk. To his dismay, the drawer squeaked loudly enough to wake the dead.

Forget it,
he thought.
I'll leave the drawer open and just hold my breath and cross my fingers.

Teeth clenched, Fabrice picked up the keys, silently cursing when they clinked. In two steps he was at the door, when he suddenly heard a loud voice behind him.

“Don't set the beam down over there! Put it here!”

Fabrice whipped around, his heart in his mouth. His father's eyes were still closed and he was waving his arms. He was dreaming.

When a swarm of black butterflies started dancing in front of his eyes, Fabrice realized he was about to pass out. He took a deep breath and heaved a sigh of relief. Then he quietly closed the door and raced downstairs to his friends.

“Okay, I got them. Let's go!” he said.

“You're white as a sheet,” remarked Robin tactlessly. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah. Everything's totally peachy spectacular!” he replied weakly. “I just cast a spell on my own father and nearly had a heart attack. Let's hope he never finds out, otherwise I'm going to be grounded for the next fifty years!”

It only took them a few minutes to climb the tower. The large Transfer Portal Room was empty, guarded only by the brightly colored tapestries that represented OtherWorld's five races: human spellbinders, giants, elves, Lilliputian fairies, and unicorns.

The kids and their familiars went to stand in the center of the room. Fabrice took the transfer scepter from an alcove and set it on the tapestry with the matching pattern, then joined his friends. The scepter hummed, and a bright white glow lit them up. Rays of blue, yellow, red, and green light shot from the other tapestries, creating a miniature rainbow. Fabrice was about to shout out their destination when he suddenly choked, leaving the words unsaid.

The door to the room had just opened!

The transfer stopped immediately and the light faded. Rigid with fear, the spellbinders watched as a black dog padded into the room.

“Great-grandpa?” cried Tara in astonishment. “What are you doing here?”

“Tara, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me Great-grandpa,” said the Labrador, sounding miffed. “It makes me feel a hundred years old. Call me Grandpa or Manitou.”

“How about Popsicle?” asked Tara, who couldn't resist. “Popsicle would be nice, wouldn't it? And you didn't answer my question.”

“Popsicle is totally unacceptable,” he said firmly. “Pops is about as far as you can go. As to why I'm here, I knew you were up to something stupid, so I followed you. And I'm coming too. At least you'll have a cautious adult along, which might save you from spending the rest of your days on bread and water when Isabella and Selena realize what you're up to. Besides, I want to be far away when your grandmother notices you're gone. I've got sensitive ears.”

“Grandpa, I
adore
you!” said Tara.

Manitou gave her a wolfish smile and went to join the others in the center of the room. Fabrice launched the transfer again. When the four beams of light hit them, he shouted: “Omois, Tingapore Imperial Palace!”

Their image wavered, and in the next instant, they vanished.

When they appeared in Omois, they were greeted by a thicket of razor-sharp spears. The imperial guards hadn't been warned of this unexpected arrival and, following their habit of skewering first and asking questions later, very nearly brought the travelers' lives to an early end.

Fortunately, Head Palace Housekeeper Kali was there. She shouted, and the guards' spears froze.

“Unannounced arrivals are not authorized,” she snapped, waving her six arms. “You're lucky that I was in the Transfer Room, otherwise . . .”

She didn't specify what that “otherwise” was, but Fabrice shivered.

Tara stepped forward, calmly ignoring the guards' baleful stares.

“I am Tara'tylanhnem Duncan,” she announced graciously. “The empress requested our presence to help shed light on the death of one of her subjects in an uncontrolled vortex. We were supposed to come with High Wizard Chemnashaovirodaintrachivu, but were delayed.”

Tara looked as cool as a cucumber, but inside she was shaking like a leaf. She desperately hoped the Kali would swallow her story.

To her great relief, Kali smiled, then bowed deferentially.

“I will immediately send word of your belated arrival to the empress and emperor. Damien, one of our apprentice spellbinders, will accompany you to your suite.”

The boy with shiny black hair who had been so hostile to them during their previous visit to Omois bowed in turn. Since learning that their friend Sparrow was able to turn into a monstrous beast ten feet tall—and was royalty to boot—Damien had become the most courteous and attentive of guides.

The Omois Imperial Palace hadn't changed; it was as extravagantly dazzling as ever. People with sensitive eyes were well advised to wear sunglasses, so as not to be blinded. Jewel-studded gold statues stood everywhere, bathed in beams of light; valuable carpets were scattered underfoot; yellow and green marble streaked with opalescent mother of pearl made the walls look like flowing rivers. Elegant pieces of furniture wandered around, rushing over to anyone who felt like sitting or lying down.

Suddenly, Tara cried out. An aged spellbinder had let himself fall to the floor in front of them. An armchair popped out of nowhere and materialized under his bony posterior just in time to cushion his fall. The man pulled out an ornate pen, and a one-legged table hopped over lickety-split to stand before him. A sheet of parchment appeared and he started dictating. Hearing his words, the pen displayed a pair of little arms, stretched, yawned deeply, and began to write.

Okay, got it,
thought Tara.
When somebody falls, don't react. It's completely normal.

All the same, she found herself catching her breath when courtiers would suddenly sit down in midair and have an armchair sprint over on its little wooden legs to catch them.

But it was when they reached the interior palace gardens that they fully appreciated the empress's unusual taste in decor. They were about to cross a vast park—more a jungle than a park, actually—when Fabrice suddenly screamed, making them jump. A monstrous foot had crashed down in front of him, followed by a pair of sharp-toothed jaws that seemed to have him in mind. He backed away in terror to escape the monster that was trying to swallow him, but Damien merely smiled.

“Don't be afraid,” he reassured them. “The drago-tyrannosauruses can't harm you. When we entered the jungle, we automatically activated force-field bubbles. The animals can see us, but they can't get to us.”

Fabrice looked up at the enormous saurian drooling onto the protective bubble and trying in vain to pierce it.

“I hate this!” he screamed. “Whenever there's some huge, hungry thing around, why does it always go after me? I want out of here before the whole security system breaks down.”

“There's no risk of that,” answered Damien.

“Yeah, right!” snapped Fabrice. “It's like they said in
Jurassic Park:
that there is nothing to be scared about, just a power malfunction. Get me out of here!”

Damien obeyed, but his perplexed look suggested he had serious doubts about Fabrice's mental stability.

The group then entered a kind of gigantic aquarium where fish in water bubbles floated among the furniture and plants. Tara felt the empress had gone a bit far when she found herself nose to nose with what looked very much like a whale—except that it must have gotten a bad sunburn, because it was bright red.

The next hall made them feel they had stepped into a refrigerator. In a glacial landscape, large furry balls were browsing on the frozen white grass. A snowstorm was raging, and they advanced with difficulty. In the crevasses, animals that looked like lobsters waved their claws, waiting for one of the fur balls to fall in. Piles of bones at the bottom showed that this must happen often enough.

The empress had apparently decided to recreate all of OtherWorld's environments inside her palace, complete with their fauna and flora.

Purple ifrits were busy everywhere. These minor demons from Limbo couldn't harm OtherWorld peoples, which is why they were allowed to remain on the planet. In Omois they cleaned and guarded the Imperial Palace, directed Tingapore's insane traffic, and served as messengers. Within a few centuries they had become essential to the empire's life and workings. Tara, who had awful memories of her passage through Limbo, kept well away from them.

When the group reached their suite of rooms, Damien formally introduced them to the door. It opened an eye, a mouth appeared and greeted them very politely, and an arm turned the handle. They went in and, when Damien left, heaved a collective sigh of relief.

Seeing them, Sparrow and Sheeba jumped to their feet. “Tara! What are you doing here? I thought your grandmother forbade you from coming to OtherWorld.”

“We couldn't abandon Cal,” said Tara, stroking Sheeba. “And let's say we didn't exactly ask her permission. It seemed more important to come to try to help. How is he doing?”

“I don't know. We were separated as soon as we got here. I'm waiting to be called to testify.”

Robin looked around the room disapprovingly.

“Good grief!” he said, waving an arm at the suite's sumptuous decor. “A quarter of all this would be enough to sustain an entire village in Selenda. It's almost indecent!”

The half-elf had a point. The luxurious room was immaculately white, with everything in it shading from silver to the purest opalescent: beautiful albino snaptooth furs from Gandis, silver arachne silk curtains, woven kalorna fiber carpets, and crystal OtherWorld statues. The only touch of color was a magnificent bouquet of red flowers with waving petals that gave off a sweet scent.

The suite had four bedrooms around a large central living room. In an alcove, perches and bedding awaited the familiars. Gallant let Tara know that he wanted his wings, and he flapped them with pleasure when she transformed him back into a pegasus. Then he settled next to her and laid his light head on her knees so she could scratch him between the ears.

Manitou jumped onto a sofa that was so soft he almost sank out of sight.

“All we can do now is to follow Sparrow's example, and wait,” he said. But do you think we could order something to eat in the meantime? It's been ages since I've had fried kalornas, kraken tentacles, or manuril shoots. Not to mention brrraaa chops, roast leg of mooouuu with fines herbs, slurp juice, yellow string beans from the Meus plains, and—”