“I think the Bloodgraves want to turn us against our parents,” said Tara with a frown. “The high wizards will be taken by surprise if their own children attack them, and won’t have time to defend themselves. As a plan, it’s both subtle and smart. So we’ve got to escape this place as quickly as possible and warn the high wizards. By the way, why did it take you so long to join me in the magic shop?”
“That was Angelica’s fault!” snapped Cal, shooting a dirty look at the girl sulking in a corner. “Just when you ran into the store, we realized that she was following us and very furious. She rushed in after you, gave you that enormous slap . . . and after that, it’s all a bit fuzzy. You launched the tornado of the century right in the poor merchant’s shop, Deria and Dragosh showed up and decided to fight OtherWorld War One over again, and
Fabrice was practically rolling on the floor laughing.
“Man, how I’ve missed you guys! I didn’t understand all of what you just said, but I get the feeling things have been pretty lively after I left. Not like here.”
“Oh really?” asked Robin. “Why?”
“The apprentice Bloodgraves all think they’re super-accomplished,” said Fabrice with exasperation. “‘Check out my powers, I’m hot stuff ’ sort of thing. And we’re given lots of tests where we have to practice fooling nonspells and manipulating them with illusions. I hate that garbage. Oh and they’re brainwashing us to convince us that the nonspells are supposed be our slaves. It’s totally lame. Can you imagine me telling my dad that he’s going to be my slave? He’d knock my block off before the words were even out of my mouth! And the worst of it, not a single person here understands my riddles!”
“What, you mean we’re supposed to work too?” asked a horrified Cal, who’d picked up on only that part. “Here I was about to say that the only good thing about being kidnapped is that at least you don’t have to do anything. Know what? I suddenly feel a powerful urge to punch someone.”
“Hey, don’t look at me like that,” protested Fabrice.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t have you in mind,” said Cal with a faint grin. “You’re much too fat for me to punch. I’m not at all sure I’d win.”
“Fat, me?” protested the athletic Fabrice. “What do you mean, fat?”
“Come on, boys, cut it out!” said Sparrow. “What were you telling us about this place, Fabrice?”
“It’s a kind of laboratory,” he answered, scowling at Cal. “We’re constantly being given aptitude tests. And what’s drilled into our heads is contempt for the races that don’t practice magic—and even some that do, for that matter. Almost all the Bloodgraves here look down at me because my parents are nonspells. And to answer the two unspoken questions on your minds: no, I haven’t undergone any kind of initiation, and no, you can’t escape from here. I tried twice, but it can’t be done.”
“Oh yeah, why not?” asked Cal, who was naturally drawn to the idea of escape.
“The place is a real fortress. I have no idea what country we’re in, but the building is surrounded by grounds and high walls. Levitation spells don’t work outside. And there are chatrixes roaming the grounds at night.”
“Chatrixes outside?” exclaimed Sparrow. “They must be crazy!”
“I hate to interrupt,” interrupted Tara, “but what’s a chatrix?”
“They’re monsters,” answered Sparrow somberly. “They look like the giant hyenas that lived on Earth in prehistoric times. Their fur is completely black, so you can’t see them at night. They can tear your leg off with a single bite. Plus, their saliva is poisonous. If you get bitten but manage to escape, you’ll die within two hours, and they’ll feast on your carcass. Finally, they’re immune to all offensive magic, which makes them pretty fearsome enemies for spellbinders.”
Tara shuddered, but said, “Well, we’ll just avoid crossing the grounds.” “It isn’t that simple,” said Fabrice. “There’s no other way out.”
Fabrice then told them about his arrival with Manitou and how enraged the Bloodgrave master had been when he realized they’d kidnapped the wrong person. He was about to describe a typical day in the Fortress when Cal and Blondin’s stomachs rumbled simultaneously, which made everybody smile.
“All right, I get it,” said Fabrice with a chuckle. “Come on and eat, and I’ll introduce you to the others.”
They followed him to a big dining hall where a lot of people were eating breakfast. Hairy things with lots of teeth were running here and there, and Tara recognized Magister’s Mud Eaters. She scanned the room, but nobody there looked like her mother. She felt her heart sink. Was she really in the Gray Fortress, the place where Selena Duncan was imprisoned?
They were waited on by nonspells, men and women who wore short black robes with rope belts, and necklaces around their necks. The spellbinders noticed that the nonspells seemed terrified. They never raised their eyes, and the Bloodgraves treated them as if they really were slaves.
“Wow, is it breakfast time already?” exclaimed Cal. “Now I understand why I’m so hungry. How long were we unconscious?”
“No idea,” answered Fabrice. “I was just told a few minutes ago to go to the infirmary. That’s all I know.”
“Rats! I was hoping to figure out what country we were in by the time difference,” said Sparrow.
Tara looked over the huge, almost silent dining hall. “Doesn’t the architecture give you a clue? On Earth, countries’ architectural styles vary a lot.”
“Hey, that’s a thought,” said Sparrow. “How would you describe the Fortress, Fabrice?”
“Well for one thing, it’s big,” Fabrice said, sitting down with a mug of hot chocolate. “The door lintels are very high, and there are passages going every which way, as if the Fortress had been built by enormous rabbits. There isn’t any magic in the walls, and you open the doors using handles. No tapestries, no declaration, no nothing. It’s big, drafty, and depressing.”
“I’ve never seen this speckled gray stone before,” observed Robin.
“But I have!” exclaimed Sparrow, who was just now noticing the rock walls. “We’re in a fortress that belonged to a giant.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m reasonably sure. I’ve seen this stone before, in Gandis. It’s spellblock, so called because it blocks magic. That hides it from spellbinders’ eyes, which kind of makes the Fortress invisible. And I think it belonged to a giant because that stone is also the only ones that giants don’t eat, so they use it for building.”
Tara was wide-eyed. “Eat? You mean they eat rocks?”
“Yes, they do. Giants eat stone, which is why they live in the Gandis Mountains. Dwarves mine precious minerals in the same mountains, and they sell their mine tailings to the giants. There’s a lot of business between the two peoples.”
“What do the giants sell them?” asked Tara, who found this very interesting.
“Some of the metal pieces that the dwarves create require more strength than they have, so the giants forge them for the dwarves. They also pay with immuta-credits, like everyone else on OtherWorld.”
“Hmpf! Dwarves can forge anything they create!” came a loud voice near them. “Dwarves are just as strong as giants. That story about our needing the giants’ strength was cooked up to make the giants think we need them. After all, they’re our best customers. We have to flatter them a little.”
The five friends turned toward the person who had spoken, and Tara made a mental note to never contradict her. She was a dwarf and about as wide as she was tall. Massive biceps seemed about to snap the gold bracelets on her upper arms, which were displayed not in a gray robe like theirs, but a sleeveless jerkin. Her shoulders were so square that you could’ve balanced two trays of glasses on them. She gave off an extraordinary sense of energy and density.
The dwarf ’s reddish beard was braided with pretty ribbons, and a dark line on her lower lids accentuated beautiful gray-green eyes. A thick mane of hair, also braided with ribbons, practical
ly reached the floor. The overall effect was striking and pretty exotic.
Fabrice said cheerfully, “This is Fafnir, a dwarf from the Hymlia Mountains who was kidnapped last year.”
“Of course I was. I was the best of the apprentices, and those nasty Bloodgraves only kidnap the best.”
“Well, we’re going to bring the average down,” Cal predicted, “because we’re here by accident.”
The dwarf ’s beautiful eyes narrowed.
“How so?”
“Well, originally, we—ow!”
“It’s a long story,” said Robin laconically, who had just kicked Cal under the table.
Sparrow was looking at the dwarf with intense curiosity, and shyly spoke up: “Let me introduce us to you. I’m Gloria Daavil, princess of Lancovit, but I prefer to be called Sparrow. This is Caliban Dal Salan, known as Cal; Robin M’angil (Tara was startled; she hadn’t paid any attention to Robin’s last name before, but it certainly sounded familiar); and finally, Tara Duncan. The girl over there who is deliberately not looking at us is Angelica Brandaud. Please forgive my asking, but isn’t your being here pretty unusual?”
“You’re telling me,” the dwarf sighed as she pushed away the remains of the enormous fowl (turkey? ostrich?) she’d been eating for breakfast. “When my fellow dwarves realized I had spellbinder gifts, they banished me. You know how much we dwarves hate magic, and the fact that I was still so young didn’t make any difference. And me, not even 250 yet, imagine!”
“I can see that,” said Sparrow sympathetically, pointing to her beard. “You haven’t shaved it yet, which means that you’re still a minor, right?”
“Yeah, that’s right,” Fafnir said gloomily. “And if I don’t get rid of this blasted magic and join the others for my Exordium ceremony in a few days, I’ll be banished for life.”
Her eyes full of compassion, Sparrow didn’t know what to say in the face of such obvious distress. The Exordium ceremony is very important to dwarves. At it, young dwarves have to deliver a speech to be accepted as adults and respected members of their clan. Dwarves hate magic, and if one of them suffers from it, they immediately become outcasts. That’s why so few dwarves become high wizards, which is too bad, because their magic is often very powerful.
“But then why were you an apprentice spellbinder at Travia Castle?”
The dwarf ’s answer shocked them.
“I was looking for a way to get rid of my magic!”
“But you can’t do that!” exclaimed Sparrow. “It’s like having brown hair or a big nose. You can try changing it, but the results are just temporary.”
“Not true, as it turns out. When the Bloodgraves kidnapped me, I was desperate, because in a year of working at the Castle for Lady Sirella, I hadn’t learned anything that made me think I could rid myself of magic. No document or manuscript mentioned it. The only reason I’ve stayed here is because these creeps have a library that’s even bigger than the one at Lancovit. It’s especially good on forbidden spells and potions. And last week I learned something that gave me hope again.”
“What was that?” asked Robin, now completely fascinated.
The dwarf lowered her voice.
“There’s a plant called Rosa annihulus that grows in the Swamps of Desolation in southern Gandis. All the spellbinders who know about it are scared of it. It’s a black rose whose juice can completely eradicate magic. You just boil the petals, swallow the brew, and
Cal didn’t understand. “If dwarves hate magic so much, why didn’t you just pretend to be ‘normal’?”
Fafnir frowned.
“Dwarves are honest. We can’t tell lies.” (Cal blanched at that. To not be able to tell lies? How awful!) “Well, not to each other anyway,” she said, correcting herself. “And merchant dwarves have special dispensations. So when my parents discovered my gift, they immediately told the Council about it.”
Since she was being honest, Fafnir added, “I might have been tempted to pretend. But my blasted magic isn’t controllable. Just throw anything sharp or threatening in my direction and
Even Tara, who didn’t especially like magic, couldn’t help but shudder at the idea of struggling so hard to get rid of it, and in such a drastic way. “So what are you going to do?” she asked.
“I’m gonna get out of here, find that silly plant, and go home.”
“But what about the chatrixes?” asked Fabrice.
“Hmpf! I’m a dwarf,” sniffed Fafnir contemptuously. “If I decide I’m getting out of here, nothing’s gonna stop me!”
“But that’s crazy,” Fabrice objected. “You’ll never make it! There are way too many of them. And if a chatrix bites you, all you can do is go back to the Fortress to get the antidote, otherwise it’s bye-bye!”
“Look, they already tried to make me undergo their blasted Initiation,” she said, shrugging her muscular shoulders. “It didn’t work, and they were furious. So I’m not going to let a bunch of little doggies keep me from leaving.”
Fafnir was about to go on when she suddenly stopped, as if listening to something. Then she abruptly stood up and said, “May your hammer ring clear.”
Without hesitating, Sparrow gave the polite answer: “May your anvil resound.”
The dwarf left without another word.
Very surprised, the five friends watched her walk away. Tara frowned, thinking about the dwarf ’s odd behavior. Fafnir had suddenly fallen silent and left the table. Why?
Suddenly she got an idea. “Fabrice, what time do the tests begin?”
“There aren’t any this morning, just this afternoon. Why?”
“Listen, I have to check on something. Do we have our own rooms?”
“We have individual rooms,” he explained. Anticipating Tara’s next question, he added resentfully, “But getting together in one is forbidden. If we want to talk, we have to go to the common room.”
“Hm, I see.” Tara stared at Fabrice so appraisingly that it started to make him uneasy. The others watched as she thoughtfully chewed her forelock. Then she took a deep breath and spoke: “Listen, Fabrice, there are a couple of things that Cal, Robin, Sparrow, and I have to take care of. Why don’t you go to that common room and we’ll join you there in a few minutes? Just tell us how to get there.”
Fabrice frowned, curious and annoyed at being excluded. The other three looked at Tara, baffled.
“It’s easy,” he said, pointing at the stairs leading up from the dining hall. “Go to the first floor, where the bedrooms are. The common room is just beyond the library. I’ll see you there.”
He stood up with dignity and walked off, closely followed by Angelica, who was probably hoping to enlist him as an ally.
Tara leaned close to her other friends and murmured: “I’m going to need your knowledge. Does a spell exist that lets you listen in on a conversation without the people being aware of it?”
“Oh, sure,” said Cal, “the Indiscreetus. Thieves often use it to get information. Why?”
“And how do you protect yourself against it?”
“With a Shieldus, which keeps anybody from listening.”
“Hm, that won’t work, then. If we cast a Shieldus, the Bloodgraves will realize we know they’re trying to listen to us. We need something else.”
Cal, Robin, and Sparrow were staring at her.
Then Tara very distinctly said, “And then Angelica sent Kimi at me to get revenge.”
“Beg pardon?” asked Sparrow.
“What?” said Cal and Robin together.
“Do you remember the spell that Master Chem cast on us?” whispered Tara, glancing at the other tables carefully.
“The one that keeps us from talking about the Omois incident? Sure, why?”
“Master Chem said that if anybody was listening to us, the spell would keep us from talking. Which means that as long as we’re able to say, ‘And then Angelica sent Kimi at me to get revenge,’ that means nobody is listening. And if we can’t speak, it means that somebody is.”
“Well, I’ll be darned,” said Cal admiringly. “I would’ve never thought of that! But there’s going to be a problem with Fabrice. He’s not going to understand if we try to get rid of him each time we want to talk.”
“Listen, I think Fafnir wants to escape from here, and I suspect she has a plan that’s a lot better than what she said. I want to escape too, and as soon as possible. So let’s not worry about hurting Fabrice’s feelings. We’ll explain when we are all out of here, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am!” snapped Cal, with a sort of military bow.
“No, that’s not okay at all,” said Robin. “I’d hoped it wouldn’t come down to this, but I don’t have a choice. I’m going to have to tell you the truth about myself as well. ‘And then Angelica sent Kimi at me to get revenge.’ I’m not just Master Den’Maril’s apprentice. I’m also T’andilus M’angil’s son.”
“The secret services head!” whispered Sparrow.
“Of course! That’s where I’d heard that name!” exclaimed Tara. “I’ve been wondering for a while now. When I was on Earth with Chem, he said something about your father. When I accidentally transformed your robes with the Decorus, Sparrow’s robe displayed scepters and crowns, and if I remember right, yours got covered with elf symbols. And the dinner rolls! Nobody could have caught them! ‘And then Angelica sent Kimi at me to get revenge.’ But you’re not an elf.”
“A very pertinent remark,” said an amused Robin. “And you’re right; I really panicked when you redecorated my robe. If anyone had figured out why elfin warriors were battling across my robe, I was toast. Your deductions are really smart, except for the business about dinner rolls. I don’t get that.”
“Try to remember. During the lunch at the Omois Imperial Palace, I handed you a basket of rolls, but I dropped it,” said Tara, blushing a little. “And you caught them before they hit the ground. I remember thinking that wasn’t normal; nobody could’ve moved so fast. But then I forgot about it.”
Tara Duncan and the Spellbinders Page 26
