Curse of the Forbidden Book

by Amy Lynn Green

  Lady Taralyn laughed softly. “If it’s nothing, then why can’t you tell me?”

  “It might put you in danger,” Jesse said, hoping that would satisfy Lady Taralyn.

  Not a wrinkle of concern appeared on her face. “I’m the daughter of the governor. I’m never in danger. Now, tell me.”

  Rae’s voice lost a little of its composure. “We will not. You don’t understand the cost!”

  She never blinked. “I love a good adventure.” No reply. “Then, since you force me,” she said, with mock grandeur, “I shall call for the guards if you do not tell me what you are doing in Chancellor Doran’s parlor.”

  Jesse groaned inside. She thinks this is all a game. Still, he didn’t say anything. They stood there for several seconds. Everything in Jesse was on edge, waiting for Lady Taralyn to make good on her threat to call for help.

  But she never did. Instead, with a mischievous gleam in her eyes, she said, “I know about secrets. Nearly everyone in the palace has one, and I know them all.”

  “What do you mean?” Rae asked, sounding curious. “How?”

  “The rebels who overthrew the last governor spied on all the court officials to find out which ones were loyal to the governor,” Lady Taralyn said. “There are tiny spy holes all over. I’ve found all of them, probably, from playing around the castle as a girl. I still listen, and I still hear secrets. I could help you find what you’re looking for.”

  Jesse’s first instinct was to stay silent. How do we know we can trust her? Then he thought about Eli and the others, and the fact that the Forbidden Book could save their lives. Maybe we don’t have a choice.

  “We’re looking for a book,” he said hurriedly, before Rae could stop him. “A secret book that belongs to Chancellor Doran.”

  Lady Taralyn closed her eyes briefly, twirling a strand of her long hair around her finger. Jesse looked nervously toward the door to Chancellor Doran’s chambers and prayed that he wouldn’t leave his room.

  Lady Taralyn’s eyes opened. “Yes,” she muttered, stepping into the room to stand next to them. “A book. It was long ago…when I was thirteen? Fourteen?”

  Five years before. That was the time of a Youth Guard commissioning. It would make sense that Chancellor Doran had spoken of the Book then.

  “I heard him talk with a man who came to the palace,” Lady Taralyn continued. “A stranger, a messenger from some other district, I think. He was handsome. That’s why I followed him and listened. Doran talked about a book, then got it out.”

  Taking care to smooth out her skirt, Lady Taralyn knelt down beside the altar beneath the figure of the dragon and felt along the bottom. Jesse leaned in closer and heard a tiny click.

  The front panel of the altar slid away, leaving a gaping hole. “Here it is,” Lady Taralyn said, reaching into the darkness and pulling out a thick, leather-bound book.

  Jesse’s first instinct was to draw back, to wait for some sort of trap. It seemed almost too easy. Still, he couldn’t keep himself from reaching out for the book. It was thick, and a plain, dull shade of brown, like any carpenter’s account book. Jesse had expected a black volume embossed with gold.

  But when he opened the front cover, hesitating slightly, he saw “The Forbidden Book,” written in perfect script on the first page. Underneath it was a seal in red wax, the image of the same dragon that guarded the altar.

  “Lady Taralyn,” Rae said, putting her hand on the noblewoman’s arm. Lady Taralyn didn’t jerk away. “We need this book.”

  “I see,” she replied, although Jesse was sure from her confused tone that she didn’t understand. “And it’s clear that Chancellor Doran doesn’t want you to have it.”

  “Probably not,” Jesse said, managing to sound casual.

  Suddenly, for the first time, she jerked her green eyes up and looked directly at him. “All right,” she said, suddenly confident. She shut the panel loudly, and Jesse glanced at the thick, wooden door, afraid that Chancellor Doran would burst out from behind it. “You shall have it, then.”

  As calmly as if she was taking her daily tea, Lady Taralyn held the candle to the fringe of one of the curtains on the wall. It began to smoke, and still she stood there, calmly lighting it on fire. Carelessly, she tossed the candle to the floor.

  Instinctively, Jesse darted forward to stomp on the flames starting to catch in the carpet. “No,” Lady Taralyn said. Then, holding her long hair back with one hand so it wouldn’t catch fire, she tore the curtain down and draped it over the altar. The flame caught, and thick, aromatic smoke began to snake upward from the burning wood.

  Jesse could only stare at her. She nodded, satisfied, then turned to them. “We should go.”

  Chapter 11

  “Fire!” a hoarse voice hollered. Jesse raised himself from his mat in Prince Corin’s tent, where he had been pretending to be asleep. Pounding footsteps and the flickering of torchlight rushed through the camp. “There’s a fire in the palace! All slaves and servants, follow me!”

  Next to him, Jesse saw Silas groan and roll over. “That’s us, if you recall,” Parvel said, shaking him.

  “Not my concern,” he mumbled.

  “Maybe not,” Parvel said, jerking his blanket away, “but that doesn’t mean you can’t help.”

  “Besides,” Jesse admitted, not wanting to look at them, “it may possibly be your concern.” Without meaning to, he glanced down at his pillow, where the faint outline of the Forbidden Book could be seen underneath. Not a very secure hiding place, but the best he could think of under short notice.

  “Meaning…?” Parvel prompted.

  Jesse cleared his throat. “Meaning Rae and I may have had something to do with causing the fire?”

  Two groans came from the dark. “All right,” Silas said, standing. “I’m up.”

  Jesse winced. He did not sound happy. I’m going to have some explaining to do.

  “I’m coming with you,” Prince Corin’s voice declared firmly. Jesse turned to see his shadowy form following them.

  “You’re a prince,” Silas said, as if he weren’t aware of that. “Let us do the work.”

  “They will need as many people as possible to help,” Prince Corin retorted, shoving past them to the doorway. “I do not think they will care about the family lineage of those putting out the fire.”

  The shouting seemed to come from all directions now. “Fire in the palace! Come and help!”

  People were running everywhere, some toward the palace, and some away from it. It might have been his imagination, but Jesse thought he saw a trail of dark smoke cutting across the sky and blocking the stars.

  “We’d better hurry,” he said grimly.

  Jesse was not prepared for the chaos of the inside of the palace. Servants, guards, and courtiers rushed all around, like bees in a swarm. And, unlike the method the local chandler used to calm his bees back in Mir, the smoke that wisped down the hall seemed to make everyone panic even more.

  Why did we let Lady Taralyn decide what to do? Jesse wondered. If they find out that two slaves were responsible for burning down the royal palace…. He shuddered. Death would be a merciful penalty for such a crime. He shot up a quick prayer that Lady Taralyn would keep quiet.

  “You there!” a man shouted, pointing at Jesse. “Get in line and make yourself useful.”

  Jesse glanced around in confusion. Prince Corin, Parvel, and Silas had already stepped to one side of the hallway, where they were passing buckets along. Jesse limped over on his walking stick and joined the line.

  Next to him, Prince Corin passed the bucket, splashing cold water all over his leg. “Excuse me,” he said apologetically. “I am not used to this.” He didn’t look very princely in a long, plain sleeping robe with disheveled hair and bare feet.

  Jesse handed the bucket to Silas. It was a difficult task to do while balancing on his walkin
g stick. “Are things always so…interesting here in Amarias?” Prince Corin continued.

  Jesse broke through his grim thoughts long enough to crack a brief smile. “Just when we’re around, I’m afraid.”

  “Ah,” Prince Corin said, and Jesse could tell that he was beginning to wonder what kind of trouble he had unleashed when buying his three slaves.

  One by one, Jesse passed along all manner of containers down the line, wishing he had never trusted Lady Taralyn at all. For all we know, Chancellor Doran will order a search of the palace for the book while we’re busy here. Would he look in the suitors’ tents?

  After what seemed like hours, a voice called out, “Fire’s out.” There was a cheer down the line, and even Prince Corin seemed relieved.

  “Always an interesting way to be awakened in the night,” Prince Corin said, leaning against the wall. His expression shifted, and he gave Jesse a probing stare. “What happened, Jesse?”

  I can’t lie to him. Jesse glanced around to make sure no one else was looking.

  Before he could say anything to justify himself, a red-faced man in a billowy purple robe stormed through the hallway, holding his head high. “Everyone to the throne room,” he announced with authority. “Governor Elias’ orders.”

  Jesse tried to look calm as the crowd of servants shoved him down the hallway. Parvel and Silas were still with him, but Jesse caught no sight of Rae. He hoped she and Lady Taralyn were safely away in the tower.

  When he stepped through the thick wooden doors of the throne room, Jesse expected to be awed by its grandeur and extravagance. The only other throne room he had entered, in the desert country of Da’armos, had been nearly coated in gold and other finery.

  Instead, Jesse felt the unexplained fear rise in him, the same that he had felt in Chancellor Doran’s room. Perhaps it was because of the dim torchlight, or the faint traces of moonlight that came through the tall, arched windows on either side of the room.

  No, Jesse thought, his eyes fixed on the figure in black that stood next to the governor’s ornate throne. It’s him. Chancellor Doran. Jesse stepped behind Silas so the chancellor couldn’t see him.

  He glanced over at Parvel and Prince Corin. They too were looking straight ahead, muscles stiff and tense. “There’s something badly wrong here,” Parvel said, almost to himself.

  “You’re right,” Silas said sarcastically, glancing around at the crowd. “The palace was on fire.” He didn’t understand. Just like Rae.

  “I know this feeling,” Prince Corin said, and Jesse could barely hear him over the nervous chatter of the throng around him. “A man was brought before my father. He was accused of witchcraft.”

  Jesse shuddered. What could it mean?

  Then Prince Corin did something very strange: he lifted up his hands and closed his eyes tightly. “Father,” he murmured, “protect us.”

  And immediately, the dread in Jesse’s heart lifted, like darkness at the first rays of dawn. “What did you do?” he asked.

  “I didn’t do anything,” Prince Corin said.

  Just then, Governor Elias’ booming voice silenced the crowd. “Half an hour ago,” he began, his words dull and toneless, “someone set fire to the personal quarters of my most important official, Chancellor Doran. We have every reason to believe the fire was a deliberate attempt on his life.”

  There was another murmur through the crowd, and Governor Elias held up his thick hand for silence. Jesse groaned inwardly. A charge for attempted murder would be much worse than the destruction of property. Torture would be merciful.

  “The fire destroyed his parlor and a significant section of his sleeping chamber, causing thousands of sceptres of damage. A few of those sceptres will be offered to anyone who can tell us who was responsible for this terrible crime.”

  Chancellor Doran lifted his head as the king spoke, and the piercing stare on his face was enough to make the timid in the crowd pull away. Jesse stared straight ahead at the man. I’m not afraid anymore.

  No one moved. Jesse thought that no one even breathed. It was a terrible silence. After a few seconds, it was all Jesse could do to restrain himself from rushing up to the throne and shouting, “It was my fault! I did it to save the rest of the Youth Guard members.”

  Then a cool, musical voice from the darkness to the left of the throne said, “No need to bother with all that, Father. I can tell you well enough.”

  Lady Taralyn! Now the muttering of the crowd grew louder. For a moment, Jesse seemed to have lost control of his legs and simply watched her step into the small circle of light created by the candlestick holder beside the throne. She’s betrayed us.

  After recovering himself from his surprise, Governor Elias cleared his throat and turned to his daughter. “Then tell me, daughter. Who set the fire?”

  Jesse had already started to creep back toward the doors, ready to run as soon as he reached the hallway, when he heard Lady Taralyn say, “I did.”

  That stopped Jesse abruptly. Governor Elias appeared to be trying to recover his surprise. Then, jerking his head up, he announced, “Everyone out.”

  Silas and Parvel immediately turned and joined the flow of people out of the throne room, most of them grumbling that they wouldn’t hear the rest of the story.

  But Prince Corin wasn’t moving. “Come,” he muttered to Jesse, jerking his head toward the back of the room. Two large marble pillars towered up to the ceiling in each corner. “We can hide behind one and listen.”

  Jesse followed him, fighting against the press of the crowd. “What if they find us?”

  “They will not.” Prince Corin ducked behind the pillar, disappearing from sight. Jesse glanced around. No one seemed to notice. “I want to see what happens.”

  Jesse grinned and squeezed in next to him. And I thought I was the only curious one.

  Gradually, the crowd of people left, and the heavy doors slammed shut. “What do you mean you set the fire?” Governor Elias demanded.

  Lady Taralyn’s voice was full of regret. “I couldn’t sleep,” she began, “so I wandered around the palace. Before I knew it, I was in Chancellor Doran’s parlor, looking at the designs above his altar. They’re very pretty, you know.”

  “And?” Governor Elias asked impatiently.

  “Well, I must have fallen asleep, because I jerked my head up some time later, then returned to my bedchamber. I suppose I left my candle, though I can’t imagine how. It was rather short, and must have burned down and started the parlor on fire.”

  To Jesse’s surprise, the governor never showed the slightest trace of disbelief at Lady Taralyn’s outrageous story, as if he expected nothing more of her than such carelessness. “Do you have any idea what you have done?” he said sternly. “Chancelor Doran could have died, and you have brought disgrace to our court in front of all the servants.”

  “Not to mention that some items of great importance were destroyed,” Chancellor Doran added, his lips tight with suppressed rage. The book.

  As he spoke, Lady Taralyn began to cry. “This is no time for hysterics, daughter,” Governor Elias said. He seemed uncomfortable standing next to his weeping daughter.

  “I am so sorry, Father, and to you, Chancellor Doran,” she managed between tears. “I did not intend for it to happen. It was very foolish of me.”

  Chancellor Doran stepped toward her, and without thinking, Jesse pulled back, pressing himself against the stone wall. The chancellor lifted Lady Taralyn’s face up. “And you are sure you’re telling the truth?” he asked, so slowly and menacingly that Jesse began shaking again.

  “Watch yourself, Chancellor!” the governor exclaimed. “This is my daughter.”

  But Chancellor Doran never looked away. Jesse could not imagine what Lady Taralyn was feeling, looking into those cold, piercing eyes.

  “Yes,” she said, “I wish I could say otherwise, but I
started the fire.” Inwardly, Jesse cheered. Although her words were full of sadness and shame, Jesse couldn’t detect a trace of a lie in her voice or face.

  Apparently, Chancellor Doran thought the same, because he released her and turned away. “The crime must be punished,” he said, his voice full of disgust.

  Jesse cringed. It was our fault, not hers! He wanted to shout it, to let it echo off the tiled walls. But he couldn’t. What would happen to me if I spoke up? What would happen to Rae?

  “Of course,” Governor Elias said wearily. Then he raised his voice. “Attendant!”

  From a small door next to the throne an attendant, dressed in scarlet, hurried out, bowing before the throne. “Bring me the servant girl.”

  Jesse jerked his head to look at Prince Corin, whose mouth was set in a straight, grim line. No…he can’t mean….

  But Jesse knew what was going to happen even before the attendant returned. With him, glaring defiantly at the governor and the chancellor, was Rae.

  Chapter 12

  Jesse could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Rae would be punished for what they all did. He wanted to believe it was all a dream, a terrible nightmare, and that he would wake up in Prince Corin’s woven tent.

  “What am I charged with?” Rae demanded, almost regally. She seemed more of a noblewoman than Taralyn, who was pouting on the other side of the throne, arms crossed.

  Governor Elias laughed at that. “Amusing little fighter, isn’t she?” he observed to Doran.

  Doran gave a small nod before turning back to Rae. “You are charged with nothing. Lady Taralyn is charged with destroying my personal property, and custom dictates that her maidservant be punished in her place.” He paused. Jesse felt frozen to the ground.

  “If you’re waiting for me to whimper and beg, you’ll be waiting for quite a long time,” Rae said, never looking away. Not for the first, time Jesse wondered at her courage.

  “Very well,” Chancellor Doran said casually, yawning a little. “Attendant, take her away. Twenty-five lashes.”