Tara Duncan and the Spellbinders

by Princess Sophie Audouin-Mamikonian

  The last dresses were hanging themselves up when Tara’s magic malfunctioned. It happened just as Sparrow came into the room, and she found herself buried in clothes. The ones that had already been put away shot out onto the bed, the furniture, and into the bathroom. A number of socks dangled from the chandelier, completely out of reach. Tara’s sneakers landed on top of the dresser.

  Sparrow fought free of the clothes wrapped around her head, then helped an embarrassed Tara put them away. She even levitated to retrieve the socks from the chandelier and the sneakers atop the dresser.

  “I don’t get it!” said Tara in annoyance. “I didn’t activate my magic!”

  “I know the feeling,” said Sparrow sympathetically. “I’ve had that same kind of frustration.”

  Tara’s eyes widened. “You mean that you too—”

  “No, no!” interrupted Sparrow. “My gift has never been as powerful as yours. I meant my stuttering problem. Sometimes just when I thought I’d whipped it, it came back worse than ever. But this time it’s gone for good. I’m sure you’ll be able control your gift is well.”

  “I dunno,” said Tara as her shoulders slumped. “There are times when I think I was a lot happier before I was a spellbinder. I had two good friends, Fabrice and Betty, and I went to a normal school with normal kids. This stupid magic has caused me nothing but problems, and I hate what’s happening to me. I have furious and violent feelings sometimes—deadly, even.”

  “You’re exaggerating,” said Sparrow firmly.

  “What?”

  “You’re always complaining. Don’t you realize that Angelica would give all her fancy duds to have a quarter of your gift? That without magic, Gallant would never have chosen you? That you have good friends here too—not just me and Cal, but also Robin, who really likes you? Yet here you are, whining that three of your lousy socks won’t obey you. I think you’re very unfair!”

  Having shy little Sparrow lecture her left Tara speechless. Then she smiled ruefully.

  “About that sock, I can’t seem to find its mate. And you’re probably right, but—”

  “What do you mean, ‘probably’? I am right. Period. And you know it as well as I do. So quit whimpering, and let’s instead figure out how to spy on Master Dragosh, so we can find out what he did with Fabrice.”

  “Not Master Dragosh. Master Chem.”

  Sparrow almost dropped the dress she was hanging up.

  “What? Master Chem? You suspect him of being a Bloodgrave?”

  “No,” said Tara with a smile. “I suspect Master Chem of using my healing situation to set a trap for whoever kidnapped Fabrice!”

  “Who’s setting a trap?” asked Cal, who had just come in.

  The two girls nodded meaningfully toward Robin, who was right behind him, and Cal changed the subject.

  “By the way, do you know when we’re going into Tingapore? I’m anxious to see the town.”

  “First, the high wizards are going to deal with Tara’s situation” said Robin, who knew the schedule for their stay. “If all goes well, she’ll be cured tomorrow morning. Lady Auxia suggested that we then visit the empress’s summer palace and the market bazaar, then come back here. The Omoisians have also arranged a visit to their amusement park. Apparently they cast an anti-vomit spell before you go on Death Mountain or the Endless Tunnel.”

  The two boys’ eyes shone with enthusiasm.

  “Mmmm, if you don’t mind, Sparrow and I will wait and see what shape you’re in when you come back before we go,” said Tara.

  Though she didn’t show it, Tara was feeling more and more worried. What if the wizards couldn’t cure her? Worse, did she really want to be cured? She sometimes marveled at the strength of her power, and sometimes she feared it.

  Robin knew Tingapore very well, because his father had been stationed at the Lancovian embassy in Omois. He was a pleasant boy, cheerful and straightforward, and got along with Cal very well. He often had them in stitches with his descriptions of the Omoisian court, whose etiquette was very strict.

  When you met the empress and the emperor at an audience, he said, you were supposed to bow three times, cross the quarter-mile across the throne room in a dignified way, and only speak when spoken to. Moreover, you could only answer, “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty,” or “No, Your Imperial Majesty.”

  “So what do you say if they ask you how old you are?” wondered Cal. “Anyway, Master Chemnashaovirodaintrachivu isn’t just a spellbinder, he’s one of the high wizards on the OtherWorld High Council. He shouldn’t have to bow to anybody.”

  “That may be, but it doesn’t excuse him from court etiquette,” said Robin. “In fact, it applies to him in spades.”

  Then he very casually asked, “Speaking of high wizards, why are you all watching Master Dragosh so closely?”

  His question was met with complete silence.

  Then Cal asked cautiously, “What makes you think we are?”

  “Oh, nothing special—except that your familiars are constantly on his heels, that you watch him as if he’d swallowed the canary, the cat, and the cage, and that he dislikes Tara to a degree remarkable for a more or less normal master.”

  “And what exactly are you up to every night, prowling the Castle hallways?” Cal shot back

  Robin gave a tight smile.

  “Ah, I didn’t realize you’d noticed. I’ve a small problem. I suffer from claustrophobia.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a fear of being in tight spaces. So when I start to feel the walls closing in on me, I go sleep in the forest. I have a special authorization that allows me to go out without triggering the alarms.”

  “In the forest, at night?” asked Sparrow with a shiver. “Aren’t you afraid?”

  “No, not at all. To me, the forest is a friend.”

  The three friends looked at each other in perplexity. Should they share their suspicions with Robin? Together, they turned to Tara.

  She took a deep breath and spoke: “We’re watching Dragosh because he was outside the dormitory door just before Fabrice disappeared.”

  Robin’s eyes widened. “How do you know that?”

  They decided to tell him at least part of the story. When they were done, Robin looked very thoughtful.

  “That seems very odd,” he said. “A traitor tries never to be noticed. He has to keep to the shadows and remain undercover so he can carry out his plans. Revealing himself would blow his cover. He’d be of no further use to whoever was running him. I think we should be looking elsewhere. The guilty party is often someone you don’t suspect.”

  Tara agreed. She’d read enough books where the criminal turned out to be the last person she suspected. And speaking of suspicions, she thought Robin’s language had a strangely military flavor.

  But Cal didn’t like having his hunches challenged.

  “So you have experience in this kind of situation?”

  Robin looked up and Tara felt he was about to say something, but he kept quiet.

  “You don’t, do you?” continued Cal. “Any more than the rest of us. Master Dragosh’s attitude is suspicious. When Deria caught him near our room, he sounded very embarrassed. And what about the conversation we overheard before that, huh? Isn’t that a clue? Besides, he was around when the other apprentices were kidnapped last year.”

  Robin looked thoughtful. “To catch the culprit we have to discover his motive.”

  “You’re right,” agreed Sparrow. “What’s the common denominator? What do all those apprentices have in common? Cal, you were there last year. Any ideas?”

  “Not a one. They were all very different. There was a girl, Brida, who was quite gifted. A boy, Erik. A somewhat arrogant elf, T’ane. And a dwarf girl, Fafnir. After the disappearances, Hymlia, which sends its dwarves afflicted with magic to the Castle, and Selenda, the elf country, both announced that they were temporarily keeping their citizens home to avoid problems.”

  Tara found this very interesting.


  “Are you saying that only humans were affected?”

  “Not exactly. More that the ones who served high wizards were special targets. Master Chem didn’t say so, but I heard my parents talking about it. Lots of young spellbinders have disappeared all over OtherWorld, and nobody knows what happened to them.”

  “In that case, we have to figure out what connects the disappearances,” said Tara. “Cal, you know the apprentices better than we do; can you try to learn as much as you can about each one who disap-peared? Robin, you’re familiar with Tingapore; talk to people here and find out if there were also disappearances from the Imperial Palace. Sparrow, you move around easily and you’re discreet; see if you can listen to what the high wizards are talking about.”

  “And what do you plan to do?” asked Cal.

  “I’m going to wait here until you give me all your information,” she said, and took a deep breath. “Then I’ll go confront Master Chem.”

  “Well, I’m happy to leave you that part of the plan,” said Sparrow, who was terrified of the dragon wizard. “Anyway, I just heard the dinner gong.” At Omois, gongs rang the hours. “So let’s go eat, gang!”

  Cal grinned at the thought.

  An ifrit, whose purple body ended in a spiral instead of legs, was patiently hovering outside their door and led them to the banquet hall.

  They discreetly made their way to their table. A sumptuous dinner was already laid out, with enormous golden trays and fine porcelain dishes. Cal and Robin looked hungrily at the feast awaiting them. Many dishes were set on . . . nothing. The food floated in the air right above the table.

  Tara soon discovered that appearances didn’t necessarily match reality. She helped herself to some very ordinary-looking white rice, and it set her mouth on fire for half an hour. After gulping a gallon of water, she began to watch what the others ate and cautiously followed suit.

  The dishes tasted strange; not bad, just unusual. The sauces were spicy and though the vegetables looked familiar—beans, grains, and root vegetables—they had very different tastes and smells. A kind of string bean tasted like an unlikely combination of broccoli and banana; a yellow tomato like cauliflower with sardines; and the red oyster plants like peaches in honey.

  They also got Boom Bars, the candies Cal liked so much. When Tara put one in her mouth, it first melted and then exploded, releasing all its flavors. She also saw Soothsuckers, odd blue and white, frog-shaped lollipops that contained a secret message. When you licked away the frog’s stomach or back, a message appeared that told your fortune.

  To Tara, the magic sucker announced: “Your anxiety is high because danger is nigh.” She frowned; that wasn’t exactly breaking news. Cal’s Soothsucker told him he would be wrong. Robin’s said that he would reveal himself, which he seemed to find alarming. Sparrow cautiously declined to try one.

  All the Soothsuckers were the same color, so you didn’t know what flavor you were getting until you tried it. Tara experimented successively with orange steak, almond cherry, chocolate camembert, lemon breaded fish, red chili plum, and pepper apple. The problem, of course, was that you had to eat the whole thing if you wanted to get the magic sentence.

  Cal told her that the lollipops were the creation of the P’abo, imps who loved to play tricks. They had been inspired by the Eastern Valley centaurs, who had gotten into the habit of licking the backs of blue-and-white frogs called Pllops. They were extremely poisonous for the other races, but their venom gave centaurs pleasant dreams and sometimes visions of the future.

  Tara loved Tzinpaf, a sparkling apple cola with a hint of lemon. But she hated Barbrapo, an acrid yellow fermented drink that gave her the shakes.

  While they were eating, Tara accidentally knocked a basket of dinner rolls off the table, and Robin surprised her by catching the falling rolls before they could hit the floor. She seemed to remember seeing someone else display such unnatural speed, but after a moment’s thought, forgot the incident.

  The banquet ended with an array of stuffed chocolates—a universal treat, apparently. Then a beautiful dark-haired woman stood up to speak. It was Lady Auxia, high wizard of the Omois High Council and the empress’ cousin.

  “My dear friends, allow me to welcome you to Tingapore!”

  A burst of applause from the high wizards interrupted her. She nodded graciously, then continued: “As we do whenever you visit us, we put our entire infrastructure at your disposal. But there is a new development this year, or rather an exception. Our dear empress and emperor have agreed to lend the high wizards of Lancovit our skills to cure a young spellbinder who is suffering from demonic magic. Once her case is treated, our beloved rulers have asked that the Lancovit apprentices be presented to them. This is unique in the annals of the Palace and worthy of note. Their Imperial Majesties are paying you a great honor.”

  A murmur of surprise greeted this statement, but Cal—who was deciding whether to eat a ninth chocolate stuffed with bitter orange—noticed that the Omoisian apprentices near them didn’t seem surprised.

  “Their Imperial Majesties would also like to see a demonstration of skills by the leading apprentices from each palace. Selections will take place tomorrow as soon as our young guest is cured. Thank you for your attention.” She sat down.

  Tara turned to Damien, who was deep in conversation with Angelica.

  “Excuse me, do you have a common room, like in Travia?”

  Interrupted in mid-sentence, he answered with ill grace. “No, none of our rooms are common. However, we have a Discussarium!”

  “Ooooh, you’re so lucky!” purred Angelica. “A real Discussarium! I’d love to see it.”

  Damien bowed to her—they must all have backaches, thought Tara, from bowing right and left all the time—and said, “It would be my pleasure to take you there, beautiful Angelica!”

  Cal rolled his eyes, and chirped, “Oooooh, lovely Tara, would you accord me the favor of your presence and accompany my unworthy self to the Discussarium?”

  “I’ll be happy to,” answered Tara, stifling a giggle. “What’s a Discussarium?”

  Damien glared at Cal. “It’s a place where we hold discussions and inform ourselves,” he said loftily. “But it would be best if I showed you. Follow me!”

  Cal leaped theatrically to his feet, yanked Tara’s chair out so fast she almost fell on her face, then bowed and said: “Kindly rest your dainty hand on my manly arm and we’ll follow our gay companion along the mysterious meanders of this ancient Palace!”

  Contemptuously ignoring the Travia apprentices’ jibes, Damien led the way, with Angelica close on his heels.

  “Please forgive them,” she said through gritted teeth. “They’re immature, second-rate spellbinders. Our poor masters are forced to admit practically anyone these last few years.”

  “I understand,” Damien answered quite seriously. “But if that boy continues to provoke me I might forget the rule and teach him some manners.”

  “The rule?”

  “Lady Auxia, our high wizard, has forbidden us from fighting duels with you.”

  “Duels?” Angelica didn’t understand. “What do you mean, duels?”

  “If our honor is defied or insulted, we issue a challenge. We aren’t allowed to issue deadly challenges, of course”—Damien’s tone suggested this was something he quite regretted—“but we can inflict enough pain that the loser will remember it for a long time.”

  Angelica seemed to find the notion fascinating.

  “Really? You’re allowed to fight with magic? That’s unbelievable!”

  “Why unbelievable?” asked Damien, surprised. “Aren’t you allowed to?”

  Angelica shook her head.

  “No, of course not! It’s absolutely forbidden.”

  “Then what do you do when somebody threatens you? You train under real-life circumstances, don’t you?”

  Angelica glanced behind her, but the others were too close for her to be able to say what she had in mind. So she simply slipped her a
rm under Damien’s, to his delight, and murmured: “Our customs are very different from yours. We can talk about all this in the Discussarium. I have lots of questions to ask you about these . . . duels.”

  The Discussarium was a large hall full of many small tables, with chairs around them. The hall was very crowded—and totally silent.

  Tara could see people arguing and waving their arms, but to her astonishment, she couldn’t hear them.

  “This is a Discussarium,” said Damien, who found Tara’s surprise gratifying. “Come along; I’ll demonstrate.”

  To Angelica’s great annoyance, Damien showed Tara to a seat, grumbled when Cal plopped down next to her, and then sat down himself. He was followed by Sparrow, Robin, Carole, and Sil, a fat Omois apprentice who brought a supply of chocolates, as if he was afraid he might run out.

  Damien then announced loudly, “We are in place.”

  A sphere of silence immediately isolated them from all the other groups.

  “There you go,” he said, smiling brightly. “Now I’ll show you what we do when we disagree about some subject. Let me think . . .

  He thought for a moment and then said, “I’ve got it! How well do you know Lancovit history—specifically the story of King Tarien the Beast and Queen Beauty? It happened about three hundred OtherWorld years ago.”

  Tara pricked up her ears. Beauty and the Beast? Like on the Throne Room tapestry?

  “They had a son and a daughter. Do you know the daughter’s name?” asked Damien, in a tone that suggested he didn’t think they could answer such an easy question.

  “Isabella!”

  Sparrow’s prompt answer took him aback.

  “Very good. But let’s say I disagree, and I claim that the name of their daughter was Katiane, say.”

  He raised his voice and spoke: “Voice?” A resonant voice answered, seemingly from nowhere: “Apprentice Damien?”

  “What was the name of the daughter of Their Majesties Tarien and Beauty, in Travia, capital of Lancovit, in the thirtieth century, please?”