Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book (11 page)

That did it. The terror they'd been feeling turned into a wave of hysterical laughter that left them bent over, with tears streaming down their cheeks. And every time one of them managed to say the word “detail,” it started up all over again.

Still feeling overwhelmed, Fabrice came out of his trance and frowned.

“What are you guys doing, rolling around on the grass?” he snapped.

“Oh, sorry,” said Sparrow, laughing and wiping the tears from her fur. “It's just wonderful. I'm very happy for you.”

Fabrice's face immediately cleared. “Yes, it's extraordinary. Barune is fantastic. Do you realize what happened? He chose
me—me!
I can't believe it.”

“Neither can I,” said Robin with a sigh, still holding his belly. “All right. Now we have to take care of this . . . problem.” (He was careful not to say the word “detail.” His stomach muscles hurt enough already.)

“What problem?” asked Fabrice. He was lovingly stroking Barune's coarse hair, as the mammoth quivered with joy.

“Number one,” said Robin, counting on his fingers, “we didn't have permission to come in here, so we've broken an imperial rule. Steal a couple of elephant hairs, nobody notices. But steal an elephant, that's a little harder to hide. Number two: This animal attacked us without any reason. Usually all he cares about is rummaging in your pockets for snacks of red bananas or popping peanuts. So I'm feeling cautious about his reactions right now. Number three: The empress
adores
this elephant. Number four: Her scientists have been studying him for years to find out why he doesn't age, so he's considered a national treasure. Aside from all that, you're right; we don't have any problem.”

The only thing Fabrice picked up from Robin's little speech was that the half-elf distrusted his new friend.

“You don't have a familiar, so you don't know what it's like!” he shouted vehemently. “My mind and his are one now. He tells me that a dark figure approached him shortly before we arrived, and he can't remember anything after that. He was bewitched! Tara wasn't able to immobilize him, and you know how powerful she is. And what about the bushes? How do you explain that he was able to burn them up just like that? I'm telling you, our main problem isn't Barune, it's finding out who tried to kill Tara again.”

“Fabrice is right,” said Tara thoughtfully. “Whoever wants to get rid of me tried it indirectly this time. And it nearly worked! If Barune hadn't become Fabrice's familiar, the spell wouldn't have been broken, and he would've killed us all!”

Looking a bit green, Fabrice lowered himself to the ground.

“Ow!” he said, feeling his ribs. “That's true. Barune nearly squeezed me to death. All right, so what we—”

The garden gates swung open just then, admitting a group of very alert guards followed by a half-dozen high wizards, including Chem, Boudiou, and Chanfrein—and the emperor and empress.

“What's going on here?” thundered Xandiar, the captain of the guards. “We thought someone was attacking the palace!”

Emperor Sandor carefully studied the mammoth and the four kids, then frowned.

“Can you clear something up for me, my dear?” he asked unctuously. “Did you give your precious guests permission to take their ease in our private garden?”

“Unless I've been the victim of a sudden attack of amnesia,” the empress answered playfully, “I don't believe I gave anyone that permission.”

Sparrow, Fabrice, and Robin were rigid with fear and embarrassment.

All right,
thought Tara,
I guess it's up to me, as usual.

“Our friend Fabrice has been
chosen,
Your Imperial Majesty,” she said. “That's why we're in your garden.”

Okay, that was stretching the truth a little. But Tara really couldn't say they were preparing a potion to help Cal escape from prison. Now it was the empress's turn to frown.

“He was
chosen?
What a stupid excuse! I don't see any animal here except for Barune—”

Gaping, the empress suddenly interrupted herself. She had just noticed her blue mammoth's golden eyes.

“No! Not Barune!” she moaned. “Don't tell me Barune chose this boy as his master?”

“Yup,” said Tara flatly. “Sorry.”

What happened after that is a little unclear. The empress had hysterics, because she loved the animal dearly. Xandiar suggested killing Fabrice as the only way to get the familiar back. Fortunately, the two rulers didn't listen to their bloodthirsty guard captain, though Fabrice got a chill when he found the emperor studying him thoughtfully. Lady Boudiou enveloped Fabrice in a protective embrace, then wanted to do the same to Barune but couldn't, given that the mammoth was four times taller than her. Master Chem, who was very worried about diplomatic relations between Omois and Lancovit, suggested they try breaking the link between Barune and Fabrice. However, the last linked pair that had been tried on—an arachne and a female Salterens salt harvester—had died, and he was counting on the empress's love for Barune to force her to reject his suggestion.

After half an hour of wails, cries, and tears, they had to face facts: Fabrice and Barune were joined and would be to the end of their days—period. Looking at Xandiar, Chem caught him clearly thinking that Fabrice's days just might end sooner than expected, so he made the empress and emperor promise that no attempt would be made on the boy's life. The imperial order was given, and Xandiar had to comply.

“Very well,” said Empress Lisbeth dryly to Fabrice. “Since the matter is settled I may as well let you leave with Barune. But how do you plan to get him out? As familiars go, he certainly isn't small. I doubt he can even fit through the doors. And I'm warning you, I don't want my palace damaged just so he can leave.”

“Is that all?” asked Tara, speaking for Fabrice. “Let me take care of that. I had the same problem with Gallant.”

She quickly recited: “By Miniaturus, shrink this mammoth blue, so it can stroll around with me and you.”

Barune trumpeted in panic as he felt himself shrinking. In a few seconds he was the size of a large dog. Now much closer to the ground, he just stood there, rolling his eyes in fear.

Feeling heartsick, Lisbeth'tylanhnem pursed her lips, then bent down to stroke the tiny blue mammoth, who was desperately clinging to Fabrice's leg with his trunk.

She wiped away the imperial tear streaking her porcelain cheek and gave her orders: “Go back to your rooms. You've done enough damage for one day. In fact, I've been meaning to warn you that a dwarf delegation from the Hymlia Mountains is coming tomorrow and I will need your suite. So, I'm afraid I won't be able to extend my hospitality to you much longer.”

All right, it wasn't very elegant. But she certainly hadn't anticipated that her favorite mammoth would become the familiar of a little earthling.

Actually, she had hoped it would become her own. Or that of her children.

The empress wiped away a final tear, majestically turned on her heel, and left the garden.

But Master Chem stayed behind. Hands on his hips, he stood tapping his foot and looking very angry.

“All right,” he thundered as soon as the last guard left, “will you kindly tell me the truth? If a link had formed between Barune and Fabrice, the mammoth would've destroyed half the palace to go be with him. So, what
really
happened here?”

Despite Tara's great affection for the old dragon, she never forgot that he was, above all, a politician. Their escape plan would fall apart if he forbade them from interfering. So she decided to shade the truth a little.

“We only wanted see the mammoth,” she said. “They haven't existed on Earth for thousands of years. When we got here, it attacked us for no reason, trying to trample us. It managed to catch Fabrice and was about to tear him to shreds when the choosing happened.”

She fell silent.
Master Chem doesn't look too convinced. Maybe if I distract him . . .

“Oh, and one more very strange thing,” Tara continued quickly. “Barune was protected by a counter-spell. We couldn't control him. It was as if he was programmed to kill us!”

The wizard looked at them searchingly. Robin tried to flash an expression of wide-eyed innocence, but only managed to look stupid. Sparrow was smiling with her every fang. Fabrice was unconsciously imitating his new familiar by shifting from foot to foot and looking vaguely embarrassed.

“Okay,” he grumbled. “As I see it, this is the second time someone's tried to kill you. Whoever's after you sure doesn't give up easily. Plots, and plots within plots. I'm getting a very bad feeling about all of this.”

Tara had a hunch she wasn't going to like what came next. And she wasn't disappointed.

“You're all going back to Lancovit, then Tara's going to Earth,” the old wizard said firmly. “I'll take care of Cal and Angelica. Don't worry; I'll stay here as long as it takes to get your friend released. You have my word as a dragon.”

“By my bow and arrows,” groused Robin, “you may wind up spending a few decades here, High Wizard. The empress doesn't seem at all inclined to release them!”

“We'll see about that. In the meantime, you're leaving first thing tomorrow morning.”

“But we—”

“No buts. This isn't a suggestion; it's an order!”

Back in their suite, Sparrow hurried to finish concocting the potion. They now only had a few hours to carry out their plan. Barune trumpeted indignantly when she asked Fabrice to pluck three hairs from his trunk, but overall the operation went pretty well.

Except the fact that the potion came close to blowing up the palace and quite a bit of Tingapore.

When she was preparing the mixture, Sparrow had forgotten one small detail: She was still in her monstrous beast shape—her
hairy
beast shape. She'd been calmly chatting with Manitou and letting the mixture settle when a couple of things happened.

First, the potion started to glow a strange green color. Then it began to overflow and give off purple fumes.

“Hey, there!” called Fabrice, who was fascinated by the stages in concocting the potion and was watching the process. “Look at the time before the storm + English currency = calm + pound = compound. Are those colors normal?”

“What colors?” asked Sparrow in surprise.

“The green and the purple. And that smoke, is that normal too?”

“Arf! Arf! Grrrrr. Bow-wow!”
barked Manitou, who had briefly forgotten that he could also talk.

Fortunately Robin understood animal language. In a flash, he leaped over the sofa, grabbed a crystal vase, and tossed away its flowers. Then he dumped the potion onto the snaptooth fur rug with one hand while pouring water onto it with the other. The green glow and the vapors disappeared—along with half of the furs and a large swath of expensive wooden flooring, revealing the concrete foundation underneath.

“Yikes!” shouted Sparrow, mopping her brow. “That was a near thing! But what changed the potion into some kind of Destroyall?”

“A kind of what?” asked Fabrice shakily, as he stared at the hole in the floor.

“It's an extremely dangerous explosive that can melt practically anything,” she said. “If you aren't very careful when compounding Destroyall, it can wipe out an entire country when it explodes. And the fumes are as dangerous as the liquid itself. But if I remember correctly, the ingredients for Destroyall are completely different from what we've been using.”

“Maybe it was your hairs,” Manitou suggested, as he carefully examined the remains of the potion. “You must have shed a few of them while you were preparing the mixture, and it caused a chain reaction.”

“Well, at least we now know two things,” said Robin, amused.

“Oh yeah? What are they?”

“One, how to use Sparrow's fur to make an explosive that can destroy everything, and two, that you now have to pluck three more hairs from your mammoth's trunk.”

Barune, who understood him and was getting fed up, hid behind the sofa, trumpeting softly in protest. His life had been pretty quiet and now he was suddenly getting bewitched, shrunk, and slowly plucked bald. All he wanted was to eat a red banana and take a little nap. Nobody was about to pluck his nose hairs again!

It took an entire stalk of red bananas, but Fabrice was finally able to persuade him, and Sparrow prepared a second batch of the potion carefully. Very carefully.

This time, everything went well. No green glow, no purple smoke.

“Perfect!” said Tara. “Now, let's see if the trick they use in the movies to put the bad guys to sleep will work on this planet.”

Gallant and Sheeba were outfitted with harnesses that carried several bottles of the potion. Before opening the bottles, Sparrow took cloths soaked with an antidote and covered everyone's face, muzzle, or trunk, which was no simple task. That way, their little group wouldn't be put to sleep along with the guards. Then she opened the bottles. Green fumes rose from them and began to spread. Sparrow opened the door part way to let the familiars out. The friends then cocked an ear and grinned when they heard a double
boom!
The two guards who'd been watching their suite since the attack on Tara had just passed out.

“Bingo!” she whispered through her makeshift gas mask. “It's working! In movies, they usually put the gas in the ventilation ducts, but since there aren't any here, I had to improvise.”

“What?” yelped Fabrice in a strangled voice. “Are you saying you weren't sure it was going to work?”

“Well, no. How could I?”

“By Demiderus, as your grandmother says, I hate it when you do that!”

Moving like shadows, they made their way to the prison.

The courtiers, ifrits, and guards they met along the way that night would never understand why they woke up next morning sprawled in the hallway with splitting headaches.