Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book

by HRH Princess Sophie Audouin-Mamikonian

  “They’re telepaths,” Sparrow said with a shiver. “They can read our minds, but they never developed vocal cords. So the compensators receive the Tellers’ brain waves and speak for them. They’re the only ones who can do that, in fact.”

  Tara frowned. “But if the compensators are the only ones who can communicate with them, how can you be sure they’re telling the truth?”

  “The Tellers may be mute, but they are not deaf!” said the gnome with great dignity. “If one of us shaded the truth, they would hear it immediately.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you,” said Tara, who had been thinking out loud. “It’s just that everything is so different on your world. And I’m very worried about my friend.”

  “If he is innocent of the crime the empire has charged him with, he is in no danger,” explained the gnome. “However, to better understand the situation, I will need your testimony. Do I have your permission to take your depositions?”

  This made Fabrice uncomfortable. He had seen plenty of movies on Earth where the friendly cop asks witnesses if he can interview them, and the next thing they know, the witnesses are behind bars. He opened his mouth to refuse, but Tara beat him to the punch.

  “Of course you can,” she said. “We all saw what happened, and we’ll tell you everything.”

  The gnome pulled out a small box with two large ears that seemed to be listening very carefully. One after another, the friends described the boy’s tragic death, or at least as much of it as they could. Master Chem hadn’t lifted the Informatus spell he’d cast on them, so they weren’t able to talk about Angelica’s plot against Tara.

  When they were finished, Buglul bowed.

  “The case seems simple to me,” he said. “If the Truth Tellers confirm your story, the worst the defendant faces will be a reprimand for distracting the apprentices. The real guilty party is whoever transformed the vortex and thereby caused the boy’s death. You did say that the counter-spell seemed to come from the area where the high wizards were standing. Is that correct?”

  “Yes,” said Robin. “It was very clear. Some sort of dark power countering all our efforts. That power is what killed the boy!”

  “Thank you,” said the gnome, bowing again as he folded the two ears and put the box in his pocket. “You will be summoned in a few minutes for the start of the trial.”

  Fabrice was impressed. No doubt about it—telepathy was pretty darn practical. “My first retransmits image and sound,” he muttered to himself. “My second is a kind of road, my third is the biblical you, and my whole is a very useful faculty.”

  “I’m guessing tele and path,” said Tara, “but I’m stumped on the third.”

  “Thee,” said Fabrice. “Tele + path + thee = telepathy.” He paused, then asked, “So, what do we do while we’re waiting?”

  “Nothing, I’m afraid,” said Tara. “The imperial guards are pretty well armed, so we can’t really stroll around without permission.”

  But as it turned out, they didn’t have long to wait. A purple ifrit came and led them through the lush interior gardens to the Double Throne Room, where the empress and the emperor were waiting.

  The impressive hall was so big one practically had to pack a lunch just to get across it. On the wall were colorful frescoes of unicorns leaping, imps picking flowers chided by fairy dragonflies, and giants munching on hills. In short, a lot was going on.

  There was gold everywhere, of course. The gold animal sculptures were so beautiful—they almost seemed alive. A gorgeous crystal and gold pegasus—Tara’s gift to the two sovereigns on her previous visit—stood center stage, a sign of their gratitude toward the young spellbinder.

  A number of crystalists were observing everyone carefully. These were OtherWorld’s journalists, easy to recognize because of the littlewinged cameras, called scoops, that always hovered around them. Tara was surprised to note that many of the female spellbinders had copied the empress’s distinctive white forelock in their hair. So much the better, she thought. The Empress of Omois didn’t know that Tara was actually her niece, and it hadn’t occurred to Tara to hide her telltale white forelock.

  Few courtiers seemed interested in the trial, but the high wizards of Omois and Lancovit were out in force, floating around the twin thrones under the direction of Lady Auxia, a brown-haired high wizard who was the empress’s cousin and the palace administrator. To Tara’s great surprise, Master Chem had brought a whole contingent from Lancovit: Master Dragosh, the vampyr; Lady Boudiou; the elf Master Den’maril; Lady Sirella, a mermaid floating gracefully in her water bubble; the cahmboum Master Patin; Master Sardoin; and Master Chanfrein. The only Lancovit wizards missing were Lady Kalibris, whose administrative duties probably kept her back at the Living Castle, and the medical shaman, Master Night Bird.

  Tara shuddered to see the vampyr, whose fangs always looked ready to bite her. And she gulped when Master Chem spotted her. The old dragon looked angry enough to turn them into toads.

  But when Tara turned her attention to Empress Lisbeth’tylanhnem, she was so dazzled by the young woman’s beauty that she forgot the vampyr and the dragon. The first time Tara saw the empress, her incredible mass of hair had been red. This time, it was its natural color and flowed like a golden river down to the matching sandals on her tiny feet, its magnificence highlighted by a single white forelock. Enveloped in this silky stream and wearing a cream-colored robe studded by jewels in the pattern of the imperial emblem, Empress Lisbeth’tylanhnem literally glowed. Her milky skin was highlighted by a touch of pink on her cheeks and red on her scarlet lips. Beneath the heavy gold crown sparkled a pair of large, deep blue eyes. Taken as a whole, the picture was almost too perfect, and Tara wondered if the empress used magic to enhance her natural beauty.

  Seated next to her on a matching throne, under the hundred-eyed purple peacock, Emperor Sandor was wearing a plain steel half breastplate inlaid with gold. His blond hair was woven in a braid that lay across one broad shoulder. He looked bored to death, but sat up when he saw the four friends and the dog, his interest piqued.

  The granite-faced majordomo asked for their names and titles, and announced them: “Her Royal Highness Princess Gloria Daavil, called Sparrow. High Wizard Manitou Duncan. Apprentice Spellbinder Tara’tylanhnem Duncan, called Tara. Apprentice Spellbinder Robin M’angil. Apprentice Spellbinder Fabrice Besois-Giron. The princess, the high wizard, and the spellbinders are here in response to your Imperial Majesties’ summons in the matter of the defendant, Caliban Dal Salan.”

  The empress’s eyes widened when she heard Tara’s full name. At their first meeting, she had been surprised by the name, which was normally reserved for the imperial family. But she had forgotten about it when the vortex raged out of control and nearly destroyed her palace. The emperor, however, was now alert and paying Tara his full attention.

  Master Chem and the empress opened their mouths to speak, but Sandor beat them to it.

  “Tell me, child, how do you happen to have such a distinctive name?” he asked in a well-modulated purr. “Are you aware that it is normally forbidden to have the same last name as the empress?”

  In coming to Omois, Tara knew that she might face the problem of being the legitimate heir to the empire—well, the secret heir, anyway. And from the look on Master Chem’s face, he clearly didn’t want her revealing this little detail in the middle of Cal’s trial.

  Let’s see if a diversion will get me out of this fix, she thought.

  “Oh, really? I’m terribly sorry,” she said, ducking the issue. “We came here to support our friend Cal, who has been unjustly accused of the boy’s death. Since we all witnessed the event and I closed the vortex (may as well remind him that she was the one who saved the palace from destruction), it seemed essential that we give our testimony.”

  “I see,” murmured the emperor in a vaguely malevolent tone. “Have you come to claim the imperial favor that my half-sister granted you, so you can save the guilty party?”

&
nbsp; This time Master Chem spoke up.

  “What do you mean, guilty party?” he exploded. “The boy’s death was an accident, as you know perfectly well. We only came to prove Caliban’s good faith. I suspect there’s a malicious plot behind all this, and I plan to uncover it, believe me!”

  Chem was so furious that he began to hiccup, to the point where a worried Lady Boudiou started pounding him on the back. Despite her efforts, the old wizard’s face turned an interesting eggplant color.

  Empress Lisbeth was about to turn her attention back to Tara when the little crowd suddenly screamed in terror. Under their horrified eyes Master Chem had begun to swell. He grew larger and larger, and sharp claws grew from his fingertips, a white mane replaced his hair, his skin became covered with blue and silver scales, a spiny crest shredded his robe, and huge fangs burst from his throat. Within seconds, a magnificent and imposing dragon stood where the old wizard had been. With an excited zoom the buzzing scoops rushed to transmit the images to their crystalists.

  “Hic!” The huge blue dragon hiccupped and belched a blast of fire that just missed the highly inflammable wooden ceiling.

  As diversions go, Tara thought to herself, this one takes the prize!

  The emperor was slack-jawed for a moment until he remembered that he was the empire’s military chief, after all, and bravely drew his sword. Next to him, the guard captain brandished his own swords, but looked no more confident. From the corner of his eye he noticed the scoops filming him, so he tightened his grip on his weapons, trying to look martial.

  “Stop that!” the empress raged at the guards who were trying to pull her to safety. “Unhand me!”

  In a fury, she went to stand in front of the dragon, hands planted on her hips.

  “Master Chemnashaovirodaintrachivu!”

  “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty, hic!” he rumbled.

  “This is an insult to our court! You will immediately shapeshift back, or I will have you thrown in prison for outrage to our person.”

  The dragon bowed graciously, bringing his terrifying muzzle down level with the angry young woman’s face.

  “Very well, Your Imperial Majesty. I hear, hic!, and I obey.”

  “Good,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “And stop that huffing and puffing! You reek of sulfur, and it stinks!”

  The dragon began to shrink and its fangs disappeared, as did its scales. Soon the old wizard was again standing in front of them, wearing a robe that he barely had time to conjure, so as not to wind up naked in front of the empress. She glared at him for a moment, then turned back to Tara.

  “Very well. So, what were we saying before we were so rudely interrupted?”

  “That you were going to give us permission to help our friend Caliban?” suggested Tara, displaying her sweetest smile.

  The emperor opened his mouth, and Tara sensed that he might be about to ship them right home, but the empress spoke first.

  “Of course you can assist your friend, child. That’s why we requested your presence. We will summon the Truth Tellers immediately, and then we can get back to this name business.”

  Maybe the emperor could be fooled, but the empress was too clever not to have noticed that Tara had carefully avoided answering her.

  The four friends respectfully bowed to the sovereigns and were awkwardly imitated by Manitou, Sheeba, and even Gallant, whose body wasn’t really designed for bowing. Then they stepped aside, leaving room for Cal and the telepaths.

  The Truth Tellers appeared a few moments later and Fabrice whistled with surprise. They didn’t have any mouths! Their bright, intelligent eyes lit on people and things with interest and patience. Wrapped in long white tunics, they moved slowly, gliding gracefully over the ground. Their heads were covered with big black helmets that ended in a point at the back.

  Glul Buglul, the gnome, followed them, accompanied by Cal, Blondin, and Angelica. Tara was startled to see the tall brunette, having completely forgotten that she had also been charged. As she passed, Angelica shot Tara a look of hatred.

  Well, there never was much friendship between them to begin with.

  A fat, balding man and a skinny woman whose hair was much too black to be natural accompanied Angelica, whispering advice and suggestions. Given their haughty and scornful looks, they were probably her parents. Cal was accompanied by a slim, nervous-looking man and a pretty woman with gray eyes, who carefully observed everything around her. Tara knew that Cal’s mother was a licensed thief, a kind of super spy in the Lancovit government. From the way she was studying the hall, Tara felt she had already spotted all the emergency exits, estimated the number of guards, and had chosen several ways to eliminate any possible opponents.

  Angelica’s parents went to stand next to Master Dragosh and Cal’s parents near Master Sardoin.

  Facing them on a floating silver disc stood a man with a woman who was weeping into a handkerchief: the unfortunate parents of the boy who’d been sucked into the vortex.

  Under the scoops’ watchful lenses, everyone stood, sat, lay down, floated, or hovered, and the trial began.

  Master Buglul recited the facts. How during the apprentices’ competition two candidates had opened a Transfer Portal. How a loud scream had broken the young spellbinders’ concentration, causing them to lose control of their magic. How for some reason the vortex grew to enormous size and swallowed a familiar—Angelica’s flying lizard Kimi—and Brandis T’al Miga Ab Chantu, one of the boys who had materialized the portal. Finally, how a charge of murder had been brought by the boy’s parents. As soon as the gnome was finished, he gestured to the Tellers. Leaving Angelica aside for the time being, they formed a circle around Cal, who was very pale and seemed to be having trouble breathing. A heavy silence fell on the hall, intermittently broken by Master Chem’s persistent hiccups.

  Manitou stirred restlessly. As the Truth Tellers began their work, the dog felt a sort of mental tendril brushing his brain. It was completely abnormal, and he knew he should be concerned, since the Tellers were probing only Cal, but a heavy lethargy clouded his mind. The tendril continued to probe and press, its pressure now extending to his entire body—including his bladder.

  The uncomfortable feeling roused him and promptly ended the mental investigation. The Lab shook his silky black head and looked around the hall.

  Raising a leg and peeing on one of the thrones in the middle of the trial probably isn’t a great idea, Manitou thought. Better to find some place more appropriate. He discreetly backed toward a door and went out.

  Once in the hallway, he raced to the part of the interior park reserved for this kind of urgent business and gave a silent sigh as he relieved himself on a big tree. He’d felt the pressure lift the moment he left the hall, which also seemed odd. If he’d had eyebrows, he would’ve frowned.

  The Lab had just finished when he heard approaching footsteps. His dog nose recognized the person’s scent.

  “Fabrice! What are you doing here?”

  “I saw you go out, and I was concerned,” said the boy. “Are you all right?”

  “Yes and no. I think a Truth Teller decided to take a little trip around inside my head, and it wasn’t especially pleasant. What happened while I was away?”

  Fabrice didn’t know enough about OtherWorld to grasp the implications of what Manitou had just revealed.

  “Nothing much,” he said with a sigh. “They’re just standing around Cal wide-eyed, shaking their heads, that’s all.”

  “Hmm, that’s very strange. Normally it would’ve all be over in a few minutes. Let’s go back inside. I have to speak with Chem.”

  Coming around a grove of trees, they were startled to see two spellbinders in conversation near an exit door. That in itself was nothing unusual, but where their faces should have been there was just a shiny space. And they were wearing gray!

  “Oh my god!” whispered Fabrice. “Bloodgraves!” He shrank back into the trees, well aware that he was no match for Magister’s evil minions.

/>   From where Fabrice and Manitou were standing, they could overhear what the two spellbinders were saying.

  “The master’s plan worked perfectly!” said the first with a chortle. “That stupid Chem raced here to protect Caliban Dal Salan, leaving the Forbidden Book unguarded. Magister will have no problem seizing it!”

  “With the demonic spells it contains, the dragons will never be able to resist us. They’ll soon bow before our power!”

  “Oh no!” groaned Manitou. “Bloodgraves in Omois! That takes the cake! So, was it Magister who managed to get Cal charged in order to draw us here? Now I really have to talk to Chem!”

  The moment the Bloodgraves left, Manitou rushed to the Double Throne Room, with Fabrice hot on his heels. They found the hall in total pandemonium. People were yelling and shouting and making a terrific din.

  “That’s enough!” thundered Xandiar, the captain of the guards. “Let the gnome speak!”

  A tense silence fell, and everyone could see Buglul swallow hard.

  “As I was telling Their Imperial Majesties and this honorable assembly,” he announced solemnly, “we are facing an unprecedented situation. Our Truth Tellers are unable to read this young spellbinder’s thoughts!”

  “Why does everyone look so worried?” whispered Fabrice in surprise.

  “Because if the Tellers have lost their power,” answered Manitou gravely, “it could mean the end of OtherWorld!”

  CHAPTER 3

  THE TRUTH TELLERS

  The empress’s clear voice cut through the stunned silence. “This is ridiculous! Just because we’re having a problem with this spellbinder doesn’t mean there’s a problem with everyone. Xandiar!”

  “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty?” said the guard captain, bowing.

  “Go stand in the middle of the Truth Tellers. We’re going to have a test.”

  “Me, Your Majesty?” he stammered.

  Empress Lisbeth’tylanhnem sighed and rubbed her head. “You’re the only Xandiar around here, as far as I know. So yes, I mean you!”