While the guard captain was gloomily contemplating his prison’s few remaining occupied cells, Tara was crawling along on her elbows, feeling unpleasantly like an earthworm.
The four friends, their familiars, and Manitou had been trying to get some rest after Xandiar’s exhausting attempts to extract a confession when the gnomes showed up. Warned by a mysterious sixth sense that something was trying to break into her cell, Tara smashed a chair, grabbed two of the legs, and got ready to fight for her life. One gnome only avoided being clobbered by a chair leg when he quickly hissed, “We are here on Caliban Dal Salan’s behalf!” thus saving all their lives.
But when the gnomes explained the deal they had made with Cal, Tara got so angry, they all backed away from her. Even now, in the tunnel, they tried to keep as far from her as possible.
For their part, Fabrice and Barune hadn’t been especially upset and were happy enough to follow the gnomes who had awakened them. Sparrow, still in beast shape, had nearly eaten two of them before she understood what was happening. And Robin initially looked with dismay at the two gnomes he’d knocked out before realizing that they weren’t enemies. His feeling of guilt evaporated when he learned what the little blue creatures had done to Cal, and he contemptuously left the two wounded gnomes in their fellows’ care. Awakened with a start, Manitou had promptly followed the gnomes and was threatening to bite them if they didn’t lead him to Cal immediately.
The gnomes were terribly disappointed not to be able to take Angelica with them, but she wasn’t in her cell—a fact Tara regretted not one bit.
The gnomes dug so quickly that their various escape routes soon merged. Before long, the friends found themselves in the main gallery, stiff and out of breath, but free.
Their reunion with Cal was tearful, but he laughed long and hard when he learned how they had been locked up and then freed by the gnomes.
“Lord, how I would have liked to have been a fly on the wall then,” he said, “just to see the look on Xandiar’s face! His escape-proof prison leaks like a sieve!”
Having wiped away their tears of laughter, they settled down to discuss the situation.
“First thing we’ve got to do, is to get rid of those horrible t’sil eggs,” said Tara with a shudder.
“But we can’t let that wizard get hold of The Forbidden Book,” Manitou objected. “That could endanger the entire balance of OtherWorld. Cal still has two more days before the t’sil hatch. I suggest we first make a little trip to Lancovit to retrieve the book and put it someplace safe where the gnomes won’t find it. Then we’ll try to deliver their wives and children.”
“If Magister really is behind all this, I can’t confront him directly,” said Tara. “He’s much too powerful. We were very lucky last time. We’ll have to try and locate his hidden portal and plan an escape route when we know that lunatic is busy somewhere else.”
“Obviously, it would be disastrous if he captured you,” said Manitou. “So, are we all agreed? Lancovit and the book first, and the prisoners and the antidote next. What do you think of that plan, Cal?”
“Well, I’d like to say no,” the thief answered candidly, practically feeling his skin twitching, “but between the t’sil and the chance of a demon invasion, there really isn’t much choice. So it’s okay by me. The quicker we carry out the mission, the sooner I’ll get the antidote.”
“I’m ready too,” said Robin. “Let’s go fetch the book, then save Cal.”
“In the meantime,” Manitou continued, “our only problem is how to explain to our little blue friends why we have to make a stop at Lancovit before coming back to help them.”
“Are gnomes skilled at magic?” asked Fabrice, turning his attention from Barune for a moment.
“Not particularly,” answered Cal. “They use spells, but ones they’ve bought, not created. I haven’t been able to adjust their shower, and their towels almost rubbed my skin off. Why do you ask?”
Fabrice explained: “If they’re as ignorant as I am, they probably wouldn’t know whether you needed magic tools to do your work, would they? And if the Truth Tellers can’t read your mind, you can say anything at all. That you absolutely have to go to Lancovit to get your thief tools, say. And that without them you won’t be able to find the hidden portal.”
“Fabrice, that’s brilliant!” said Cal admiringly. “I only wish you could bring yourself to pay a little more attention once and a while.”
“The link with Barune is so strong, I can’t always tell his feelings from mine,” said Fabrice, chewing on his lip. “He’s having trouble getting used to being miniaturized. So, I’m sorry if I seem a little distracted these days.”
Cal rolled his eyes. “That’s fine. If it makes you forget your awful riddles, you can be as distracted as you like.”
“I understand,” said Tara with a smile. “It was like that for me in the beginning too, being unable to be away from Gallant. You’ll see—the link gradually gets less compelling with time.”
What do you mean, less compelling? asked the pegasus mentally, who hated being away from Tara as much as ever. She soothed him, stroking the soft hairs between his ears. She realized that she hadn’t paid Gallant much attention in the last few days. All right, as soon as we’re done with this new crisis, I’ll spend a whole week petting and pampering you.
When Glul Buglul was told that his guests wanted to go to Lancovit, he objected. He was sure they were planning some trick to save Cal without making use of the antidote.
The little thief answered icily that he wasn’t in the habit of working without his tools. He was the professional, he said, and if the gnome wanted to do the job instead of him, then he should just say so.
Tara almost took pity on poor Buglul until the latter demanded they leave a hostage behind. That made her angry enough to grind the gnome into hamburger, but Fabrice intervened.
“It’s all right,” he said. “It won’t take all of us to get Cal’s tools. I’m not good for much right now, so why don’t I stay here as a hostage with Barune? A fruit and vegetable diet is perfect for him. We’ll just wait for you.”
Despite his offer, Tara knew that Fabrice regretted seeing them go. He had already missed out on their earlier adventures when Magister kidnapped him by mistake, and now it was happening again. That said, he did look so absorbed by the little mammoth that leaving him behind wasn’t necessarily a bad idea. His being distracted in the middle of a raid could be a problem.
The gnomes’ Transfer Portal wasn’t far. Buglul offered them arachnes and spalenditals to ride there, but Tara preferred to restore Gallant to his normal size. She, Cal, and Robin flew on the pegasus behind Buglul, who had requisitioned a dragonfly. Sparrow ran along beside them in her beast shape with Sheeba, Manitou, and Blondin.
Once at the portal, Buglul again tried to pump them for information. “How long will it take to retrieve your tools, Apprentice Spellbinder Caliban Dal Salan?”
“Between two and twenty-six hours, depending on how many people are around. I’m still a fugitive, after all. I have to keep a low profile.”
The gnome nodded. “I understand. You still have enough time. The t’sil will not be active for another two and a half days.”
Cal shuddered and said nothing.
“Where will we arrive?” asked Robin prudently. “It probably wouldn’t be a great idea to materialize right in front of the Living Castle guards.”
“No, of course not, and we thought of that,” said the gnome. “You will arrive at our Travia embassy. From there you will have to get to the castle on your own. We will be waiting for you here—and so will your friend.”
That is a threat that’s hard to ignore, thought Tara. But they really did plan to come back, so she had no reason to be anxious. Well, almost none.
The gnome opened the door to the Transfer Room, and the moment they stepped in, the five tapestries representing unicorns, spellbinders, fairies, giants, and elves began to glow, forming a shining halo around them. The g
nome put the scepter in place and quickly stepped out. Sparrow cried “Lancovit embassy!” the rainbow touched the little group, and they were instantly transported.
A place where they landed put them face-to-face with rows of sharp, chitinous legs. The embassy Transfer Portal guards were enormous praying mantises, who watched impassively as the humans materialized. The mantises were an attractive light green and had huge, spiked forelegs. One of them, displaying the Smallcountry emblem of a bird and an arachne on its abdomen, waved them forward. Their throats tight, the friends filed past ranks of mantises whose large, multifaceted eyes gazed at them with interest. Sparrow held her breath until they were out of the Transfer Room.
A gnome was waiting for them.
“Welcome to our Travia embassy,” he said, bowing. “I am Bulul Bulbul, Smallcountry ambassador extraordinary plenipotentiary. Would you like us to escort you to the place where Apprentice Spellbinder Caliban Dal Salan has his tools?”
“No thanks, Your Excellency, that won’t be necessary,” Cal said politely. “We’ll meet you back here in a little while.”
“We are at your disposal at any time, day or night. Do not hesitate to rouse us. We have been instructed to assist you in any way we can.”
“Thanks, Excellency. We’ll be sure to do that if it proves necessary.”
Leaving the embassy, Tara was glad to see Travia’s beautifullycolored houses again. Workmen had decorated and painted every wall in the city with bright, cheerful frescoes. Gleaming roofs stood out against the sky, which Tara suddenly realized was striped. Astonishingly, the celestial dome above them displayed green, purple, yellow, and blue stripes.
Sparrow glanced up and sighed. “Aunt Titania has been launching new public works again, I see! Pay no attention, Tara. The urge comes over her every so often. She likes to change the color of the sky from time to time, because she thinks blue or black is a little too conventional.”
Cal gave the sky a dubious glance. Then he took a deep breath and relaxed. “Wow! It’s nice to be home. I didn’t realize how nervous I’ve been. Let’s go to my house. The guards took all my daggers and other weapons, and I feel naked without them.”
Unlike her friends, Sparrow was feeling very tense. The first time she’d picked up The Forbidden Book, it seemed almost to writhe in her hands, as if it were alive. This had been so unsettling that she forgot to crawl on her way out, and one of the fire snakes scorched her hair, coming within an inch of killing her. She shivered at the memory. And to think she was now going to have to do that again!
The Travia streets were crowded. Lilliputian fairies flitted here and there, carrying messages, flowers, or pollen. A group of little children on tethers were practicing floating behind a female spellbinder in a blue dress. Tara smiled. It almost looked as if the woman was carrying a big bouquet of children. Trumpets blared whenever a pedestrian took off or landed. Like scoops, the trumpets had wings and carefully watched the busy crowds to warn of takeoffs and landings. The overall effect was deafening. Some spellbinders were riding pegasi, but Tara was surprised to also see one mounted on a large winged bull; people gave its sharp, gleaming horns a wide berth.
As in Tingapore, the city’s merchants had hundreds of items for sale. The stands were heaped high with fruits and vegetables, some of which looked unhappy to be there. Delicious southern cantaloops grumbled in their cages. Freshly picked kalornas waved bewildered eye-petals. A kraken that clearly didn’t want to wind up on a skewer was trying to climb out of its tank to strangle the krakenmonger. The P’abo imps in the next stall complained loudly about getting splashed. They sold colorful candies, including their famous Soothsucker lollipops. Animated by magic spells, the goodies marched up and down the trays, commanded by bottles of Tzinpaf.
Farther on, two elves were selling bows and arrows next to a dwarf’s stall. Robin’s weapons had also been confiscated at Omois, and like Cal, he felt naked without them, so he went over to buy a bow. The ones on display had taut bowstrings and were delicately carved from handsome brown wood. Spotting the black streaks in Robin’s white hair, one of the elves muttered something and laughed sarcastically. Tara didn’t hear what the elf said but the tone was insulting, and she saw Robin stiffen. His status as a half-elf apparently wasn’t going unnoticed.
Racists, thought Tara. Even though the universe’s races are clearly all equal. Her grandmother knew how to deal with such people, and Tara decided to copy her attitude. She took out her immuta-cred purse and walked over. Thanks to Sparrow’s language spell, she understood the elves’ musical inflections perfectly.
“Well, Robin, do these little shopkeepers have anything halfway decent?” she said contemptuously in perfect Elvish. “I don’t see why you’re bothering. Let’s go spend our money with people who know real work!”
“Well said, miss!” roared the dwarf. “Come, see what I’ve got. My axes and swords are worth any of those spindly toy weapons.”
The second elf, who was about to turn Robin away, glared at the dwarf. “We sell the best bows in OtherWorld,” he said in honeyed accents.
“Oh, really?” snapped Tara. “Not that I can see.”
Robin swallowed hard.
“Eh, take it easy,” he whispered, aghast. “My countrymen can be pretty touchy, and I don’t think I can handle two of them at once.”
Tara refused to back off. She and the elf were too busy staring each other down. Her anger was so intense that the living stone sensed it, and her hands began to pulse with blue light. The elf must have felt the girl’s power because he suddenly blinked and bowed.
“The weapons here may not suit you,” he said smoothly. “But I think we have something that would be more appropriate for your rank, my lady.”
At a sign, the other elf stepped behind a glittering curtain and emerged with a carved wooden case. He opened it reverently, revealing an extraordinary-looking bow. As white as whaloon milk, it was inlaid with iridescent wood from the Hymlia Mountains. Runes underlined in gold and silver gleamed on the bow’s body, and its upper and lower limbs glittered like diamonds. The grip was royal brrraaa horn inlaid with emeralds.
The bow was magnificent—and from the way Robin, Cal, and Sparrow were staring at it, unique.
“This is the bow of Lillandril Steel-Heart, one of our most famous women warriors,” the elf proudly announced, pleased with the impression he’d made. “It was created for her, and it has been searching for a new master ever since her death two thousand years ago. But I must warn you: If you touch the bow and are not the person for whom it is destined, you will be badly burned.”
“I know the legend of Lillandril’s bow, and I also know that it would never accept a half-elf,” said Robin with a shrug, “So, don’t play games with me. I’ll buy a regular bow. That one over there would suit me just fine,” he said, pointing.
Tara could feel Robin’s sadness, and it pained her. And then she got an idea. A magic thing, eh? Let’s see if my stone can lend a hand.
Living stone, she called mentally. Can you feel the magic in the bow before me?
Bow? The stone had no idea what a bow was, of course.
Sorry. Look at the picture in my mind. Through Tara’s eyes, the living stone could see the bow in its case.
Hmpf, not powerful, the stone whispered, mentally gauging the shiny weapon. Not like me! But I understand when it talks.
Ask it if it is bored.
A bit surprised, the living stone complied.
Yes, bored, she said with a sigh. Like me before beautiful Tara, pretty Tara, came search me under black roses.
Perfect, thought Tara, smiling at the extravagant compliments. Tell the bow that the next person to touch it will give it more adventures than it ever had with Lillandril. And that it must not burn him.
After a few seconds, the stone replied. Lillandril put spell. Little bow not able to lift spell all alone.
Really? You mean it burns everyone? That it actually can’t choose a new master?
Yes. Lilla
ndril put spell just to protect bow. Only she can touch it. But pfft!—sudden death.
In an ambush?
Fish bone, the bow answered through the stone. Lodge in throat. Drop dead. But just before big battle, so elves say she die fighting. Fish bone less glorious.
Tara repressed a mental chuckle.
I see. Living stone, can you neutralize the spell?
Hmpf, answered the stone with a touch of contempt. You give your magic to help?
I give, confirmed Tara.
Then easy!
The living stone seized Tara’s power and combined it with her own. An invisible tendril discreetly reached out and probed the bow, then withdrew.
Done! the voice in Tara’s mind shouted with satisfaction.
“Robin?” said Tara aloud.
“Yes?”
“Pick up the bow.”
“But—”
“Don’t argue, just pick it up. Trust me.”
With a mocking smile, the elf held the case out to him. Robin hesitantly reached in and touched the bow’s grip. When nothing happened, he seized the bow and took it from the case.
The elf’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “By Jeduril and Brandmaril, it didn’t burn him! That’s impossible!”
Robin’s grin was so wide, it practically took up all his face.
“It’s fantastic,” he said in a tone of wonder, gently stroking the gleaming wood. “So powerful and yet so light!”
The two elves had lost all their arrogance and were now looking at Robin as if he had grown a second head. Then, with a visible effort, they pulled themselves together.
“With arrows, the bow costs a thousand gold immuta-credits,” one announced.
Yikes! A thousand credits! Tara had all of forty-five in her purse. Disappointment was sweeping over her when Sparrow stepped forward.
“Hold on a second!” she shouted. “I know the legend of Lillandril’s magic bow too. And I know that the legend says the bow can’t be sold, only given to the person brave enough to seize it. Which is what my friend just did. So don’t try to jerk us around, or I’ll complain to the High Council of Elves.”
Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book Page 11
