Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book

by HRH Princess Sophie Audouin-Mamikonian

  But they didn’t get ten yards when seemingly from nowhere, a covey of giggling and blushing women, teenagers, and little girls emerged and again started following them.

  Cal picked up the pace.

  The crowd sped up.

  Cal walked even faster.

  So did they.

  “Hey, why are we running?” asked Fabrice, who, with Barune, was having trouble keeping up.

  “We’re running,” muttered Cal through gritted teeth, “because I’ve become so handsome that all the women in the country have decided to pursue me.”

  “Gee, I think that’s kind of nice.”

  “Well, I don’t,” said Cal in a tone that was melodious, but final.

  The Living Castle decided to lend its friend a hand and created a violent storm in the hallways, which slowed the pursuers. The female courtiers were plastered against the walls, but the spellbinders used magic to free themselves.

  The group arrived at the Transfer Portal out of breath, and in Cal’s case, disheveled—but still elegant!

  Luckily for them, the Cyclops couldn’t be bribed. He categorically refused to tell the gaggle of smitten spellbinders where the incredible apparition had transferred to. Then he sighed. That guy was too handsome to be real, he thought sadly. Why can’t I have girl Cyclopes chasing after me like that?

  The five friends, their familiars, and Manitou rematerialized at Tingapore in a palace that was completely black. The marble walls, the gold statues, the imperial guards’ uniforms—everything was black. Lady Kali, the head of housekeeping, greeted them graciously, draped in a long dress that was . . . terribly black.

  “Have you come for the Dilution?” she asked, wringing her six hands. “What a terrible misfortune! To break one’s neck in the prime of life. There wasn’t a thing our shamans could do. The ceremony is tomorrow afternoon. Damien will show you to your rooms. The empress warned us that you would be coming, and we’ve kept your suite available in spite of the crowds.”

  Now the group was completely at a loss. Who had died? And how did the empress know they were coming? Also, Tara and Fabrice didn’t have the slightest idea what a Dilution was.

  Suddenly a figure they immediately recognized appeared in front of them. Prince Bandiou! The empress’s uncle, whom Fafnir had destroyed.

  Sparrow shape-shifted, and Tara activated her power, her hands glowing bright blue.

  “Taxes are necessary to pay for public services,” Price Bandiou declaimed persuasively. “On Earth, our planet of origin, they pay for our civil servants, schools, hospitals and their expensive supplies, trains, roads, public buildings, garbage collection, and much more. Here on OtherWorld, the government needs taxes to pay civil servants, who are found on all planets”—the figure smiled sardonically—“but also our army, spells necessary for our defense, improvements in our lifestyle, and scientific and magical research. Citizens of Omois, remember that the greatness of our empire rests on your shoulders. Pay your taxes!”

  The figure bowed and vanished.

  Kali wiped away a tear.

  “What a great man!” she exclaimed. “Each time the empress has one of his speeches projected I can’t help but weep.”

  Very discreetly, Sparrow drew in her fangs and claws, then shape-shifted back. Her robe groaned as it regained its normal proportions. Tara extinguished the blue glow from her hands. With an effort, the two girls managed to look angelic and contrite.

  “Yes, indeed,” muttered Cal, his head bowed. “Such a tragic loss! Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Kali. What time will the Dilution take place?”

  Catching sight of Cal’s splendor, the head housekeeper’s eyes widened imperceptibly.

  “At three o’clock tomorrow afternoon,” she purred. “The empress has reserved seats for you next to her—a distinct honor. We will see each other again, which will give me great pleasure. In the meantime, I must ask you to check your weapons. You’ll be given a receipt so you can pick them up when you leave.”

  Robin sighed when he handed in his bow, which wasn’t pleased in the least.

  Though Cal’s clothes fit him quite snugly, they hid an impressive number of knives and other sharp weapons, which he checked with regret. Tara strongly suspected that a fair number remained, but Kali didn’t insist on a body search—though Tara felt she was dying to perform one.

  “I don’t believe I know you,” she meltingly murmured to Cal. “I’ll need your name for . . . for . . . for tomorrow’s ceremony.”

  Cal, who loved Earth movies, didn’t hesitate.

  “Bond,” he said in his velvety voice, bending to kiss one of the young woman’s many hands. “James Bond.”

  Fabrice and Tara had to bite the inside of their cheeks so as not to burst out laughing.

  Lady Kali flushed, and her smile widened. “Very well, er, Mister Bond. I hope to . . . see you soon.”

  Catching Sparrow’s mocking gaze, she pulled herself together. “Damien, please show our friends to their suite.”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  Fabrice and Tara were annoyed at Cal. Bursting out laughing in a palace that was in mourning was hardly recommended, and they had a hard time not doing it. A very hard time.

  They had barely taken their first steps when Robin suddenly stopped, then carefully turned his back away from Damien. Lillandril’s bow, with all its accessories, had just rematerialized in his hand. Since they didn’t hear any shouts from the Transfer Portal, they concluded that the elf’s private rearmament hadn’t been noticed.

  “Man, that thing of yours is really handy,” muttered Cal admiringly. “Still, make sure Damien doesn’t see it.”

  “Yes, Mister Bond,” Robin answered. This drew a glare from Tara, who was struggling to control her hysterics and couldn’t repress a small chuckle.

  Their trip through the palace calmed her down. The best way to describe the reigning atmosphere was morbid. The trees in the hallways had lost their leaves. The firebirds gazed sorrowfully at their black feathers. The big drago-tyrannosauruses were so depressed, they didn’t even consider munching on Fabrice when the group crossed the black jungle. Pterodactyls soaring in the distance croaked anxiously, like birds of ill omen. The vrrrirs couldn’t understand why their white fur had suddenly turned dark.

  The filtered light from the bay windows was cold and gloomy, and a lugubrious moaning echoed throughout the palace.

  “Brrr,” said Fabrice, who no longer felt any urge to laugh. “It’s very . . .”

  “Yeah, very . . .” agreed Cal. “Especially since they are mourning a guy who was crazy for power and killed lots of people. If people knew the truth, they’d toss him in a cesspool and have a party instead!”

  Gallant, Sheeba, and Blondin stood out vividly against all the black. The courtiers, some of whom had darkened their skin in mourning, looked disapprovingly at the white pegasus, silver panther, and red lion.

  The female courtiers certainly admired Cal, but because of mourning, they simply gazed at him in awe and walked off, whispering.

  “I know that you are Her Imperial Majesty’s guests,” began their guide Damien delicately, “but I think it might be appropriate if you changed your familiars’ colors. We wouldn’t want to offend the sensibility of our sovereign, who has been deeply affected by the loss of her uncle. Don’t you agree?”

  Tara smiled. The boy was very careful with them, since the previous visit.

  “We’ll take care of it,” she said kindly.

  Damien seemed relieved. “Thank you, Miss.”

  “But before we do, we need some information. Would it be possible to visit your Discussarium?”

  Relieved that Tara had agreed to deal with the familiars, Damien was happy to oblige. “Of course. Follow me, please.”

  There weren’t many people in the vast wood-paneled hall dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge. Though the walls were lined with manuscripts, books, journals, and travel logs, most spellbinders preferred to use the voice-activated Discussarium system.
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  Suddenly Fabrice stopped. Protruding from behind a table was a long, hairy, gray leg that ended in a very sharp claw.

  “Good grief!” he hissed furiously, “there’s an arachne here!”

  Cal looked, then whispered, “Oh, that’s Drrr! You know, the arachne who was being treated for her allergy problem. I got to know her when I was in jail. She’s very nice.”

  “Well, she can stay right where she is,” said Fabrice, as he searched for the table farthest from the spider.

  Robin and Cal merely shrugged. To them, the arachne was just a citizen like any other.

  They sat at Fabrice’s chosen table, and Damien went back to the Transfer Portal to welcome other arriving guests.

  A sphere of silence promptly isolated them.

  “Voice!” cried Sparrow, who knew how the Discussarium worked.

  “Princess Gloria?” answered Voice.

  Sparrow grimaced. She was so accustomed to her nickname that it always sounded odd when someone used her true title.

  “We’re looking for information about an entity called the Ravager of Souls.”

  “I’m very sorry,” Voice answered immediately, “but that information is classified. I can’t give you access to it. Only the high wizards have the authorization. Can I do something else for you?”

  “I am High Wizard Manitou Duncan,” said Tara’s grandfather, “though I may not look it at the moment. Give us the information, please!”

  “My apologies, High Wizard,” Voice responded, this time with a touch of asperity. “Authorization is only given to Omois high wizards.”

  “Crap!” said Cal. “The one time that we aren’t being crushed, boiled, or kidnapped to get information, it doesn’t work.”

  Thinking fast, Tara got an idea. “Voice?”

  “Miss Duncan?”

  “The empress has access to that information, doesn’t she?”

  This time Voice’s tone was a bit scornful. “Yes, Miss, of course. As a member of the ruling family, the empress has access to all information.”

  “Fine,” said Tara with a smile. “I just wanted to make sure that access didn’t depend on the emperor.”

  To her friends’ surprise, Tara got up and signaled them to follow her out of the Discussarium.

  “I know what we’re going to do,” she announced when they were in the corridor.

  “Oh man, I hate it when you talk that way,” groaned Fabrice. “It usually means we’re in for big trouble, probably involving serious, if not crippling, injuries.”

  “Actually, if my plan doesn’t work, I don’t think we’d be convicted of any crime more serious than lèse-majesté!”

  Fabrice could hardly breathe.

  “Treason against the sovereign?” he croaked. “What—”

  “What are we going to do?” guessed Tara. “Oh, nothing special. We’re just going to blackmail the Empress of Omois.”

  CHAPTER 13

  IMPERIAL DISHONOR

  This time, Fabrice groaned so audibly that everyone could hear him. Loud trumpeting from Barune showed that the little mammoth shared his dismay.

  Other spellbinders turned to look at them, shocked.

  “Shhh!” hissed Manitou. “Relax, Fabrice. You know how much Tara likes to joke.”

  “Trouble is, I have an awful feeling she’s not joking at all,” said Cal. “Come on, Tara. Are you serious?”

  “You’re right, I wasn’t joking,” snapped Tara. “I have to speak to the empress—right away. Anyone have an idea how to do that?”

  “Easy. You request a private audience,” said Robin. “Since there are maybe a million people who want the same thing, and they’re adult citizens of Omois, I’m sure your request will be granted in a couple of centuries.”

  “I don’t think we’ll have to wait that long,” said Tara thoughtfully. “The empress knew we were coming. She even saved us a space for the Dilution tomorrow, whatever the heck that is.”

  “A Dilution,” Robin said, “is the ceremony by which the body is diluted and flows into the soil of the park, returning to the wellsprings of OtherWorld.”

  “Yuck!” said Fabrice. “You mean that when I walk in the park I’m walking on dead people from Tingapore?”

  “No, of course not!” answered Robin, sounding offended.

  “Well, that’s reassuring.”

  “Just on the members of the imperial family,” he said with a sly grin.

  “Double yuck! That’s really disgusting.”

  Tara brought them back to the topic at hand. “So, as I was saying, we have to see the empress fast, not only to get the information we need for Fafnir, but also to give her the taludi to prove Cal’s innocence. In spite of his magnificent disguise, ‘Mr. Bond’ here risks being arrested again.”

  “Yeah,” said Cal. “I’d kind of like to skip the time in jail this time.”

  Sparrow laughed.

  “If you keep looking the way you do,” she said, “the empress won’t ever lock you up, at least not in a prison.”

  “Har-dee-har-har—very funny. I’m going to submit a request to prove my innocence and ask an ifrit to bring it to the empress. After that, we’ll see what happens.”

  “Hey, time’s a-wasting!” announced Manitou.

  “Really? Aside from the risk of my being arrested, we don’t have any other irons in the fire, do we? Fafnir doesn’t need the information about the Ravager until she comes back from the Swamps of Desolation.”

  “I wasn’t thinking about Fafnir,” the Labrador said quietly. “I had some other folks in mind. Chem will be attending the funeral, probably accompanied by Isabella. I wouldn’t be surprised if Sparrow’s parents came to represent the Lancovit government as well. Not to mention Fabrice’s father, who is sure to be invited as a friend of the late prince.”

  Fabrice turned an intense shade of green.

  “You’ve got to be kidding!” he stammered. “My father and Isabella—at the same time? After the Bandiou episode, the smashing of Dad’s greenhouse, and the trips to OtherWorld without Isabella’s permission, I can’t even imagine what punishment they’ll slap on me. In fact, I was seriously thinking of going into exile on some other planet!”

  “Oh, stop talking nonsense!” said Robin, giving him a friendly pat on the back. “Your father saw that we saved the Earth and OtherWorld from a brutal tyrant. He’ll probably complain a bit, but that’s all.”

  “Robin, my father will skin me alive and nail my hide to the living room wall. And Isabella will take what’s left and make a doormat for the manor house. At least that way, I’ll be useful.”

  Cal tried to cheer up Fabrice, but without success, and they walked on toward Tara’s suite in silence. The palace was huge, and they had to ask an ifrit for directions. Noticing that courtiers were frowning at them along the way, Tara remembered that she wanted to change their familiars’ colors.

  Suddenly, shrieks of consternation rang out throughout the palace.

  Drat! My blasted magic must have gotten away from me again! Tara realized. She had been looking at Cal and idly thought he would look even more handsome dressed in red.

  Her magic struck instantly, and the entire palace turned red. Spellbinder robes, statues, walls, curtains, animals—all red. The effect was pretty spectacular.

  Horrified, Tara watched as frantic courtiers stared at their clothes in amazement.

  Sparrow chuckled. “Just exactly what were you thinking, anyway?”

  Tara blushed, a color that went nicely with her crimson robe, then canceled the spell. Robin took over and cautiously turned their robes a blue so dark they it looked black, then darkened the animals’ coats.

  Fabrice sighed again. Tara had so much power. And she manipulated it so easily. He wasn’t jealous but . . . Well, actually he was jealous. Why didn’t he have that kind of power? But then he remembered about the Bloodgrave who was trying to kill her for some mysterious reason. And Magister, who considered her the key to demonic power. All in all, maybe having less
power was just fine. Besides, he thought, I have Barune! He looked down at the mammoth affectionately and stroked his head, while keeping his toes safely out of range. Barune was much smaller now, but he was still awfully heavy.

  Robin was wondering what would happen when all this was finished. He knew that Tara would have to go back to Earth. He also knew that he couldn’t accompany her. A half-elf on Earth—how ridiculous! His magic wasn’t powerful enough to disguise his strange crystalline eyes, with their cat-like vertical pupils, and his odd, black-streaked white hair.

  Besides, elves were hunters and warriors. Joining Tara on Earth would mean giving up that heritage. That was something he couldn’t do, and the idea caused him almost physical pain. So for the moment, he was grateful for the problems they kept running into, which forced Tara to stay on OtherWorld.

  As for Cal, he was thinking that he would soon have the murder charge dismissed. Then he had a few things to tell his professors at the University of Licensed Thievery about their grading. With a touch of sadness, he remembered that he would have to visit Brandis’s parents and tell them their son’s last wishes. More than anything, he wanted to be back in his own, real body. This one was just too much!

  Sparrow was worried, but not for herself—for Tara. Sparrow had always been a solitary child because her parents traveled so much. Then Tara showed up and in a few weeks they had become like twins—better yet, they were confidantes. But Tara kept a lot secret, as if she had trouble expressing herself or didn’t know how her displays of friendship would be received. And Sparrow knew how heavily the future weighed on her friend’s shoulders.

  In fact, they all had some idea of what they would do later on. Robin wanted to enter the royal Lancovit elf services, like his father. Cal was already a licensed thief, even though he didn’t have the official title yet. Fabrice was in the apprentice training program and would become a high wizard. Sparrow was considering going into her mother’s field—working with the dwarf tribes on OtherWorld’s sources of magic. And if she didn’t like that, she could study in Lancovit and also become a high wizard.