Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book (17 page)

“We are—”

“—upset. Yes, very upset—”

“—at what happened to Caliban. That scamp—”

“—didn't deserve—”

“—such a harsh punishment. Do you plan—”

“—to stay long? Your room—”

“—is always ready for you, of course.”

“Thank you, ladies. I don't yet know how long I'll be here, but I'll let you know when I'm leaving.”

“That's perfect,” Dana concluded. “You are our guest of honor, like last time.”

Bingo! With a single well-chosen sentence, the administrator had made Tara untouchable.

Powerless, Dragosh gave her a long, burning look, but Tara remained unruffled.

“I'll never be far behind you, Duncan,” he hissed, so quietly that only Tara could hear him. “I haven't forgotten that you're the portal through which the demons can invade our universe. If I have the slightest doubt about you, I won't hesitate. Guest or not, I'll destroy you.”

Just then something shiny whistled between them and slammed into the wood with a resounding
thwock!
that made the Living Castle shudder indignantly.

“Sorry!” shouted a well-known voice. “Guess my axe got away from me. May your hammer ring clear, Master Dragosh. Yours too, Tara!”

The vampyr, who was staring at a steel blade a quarter-inch from his head, made no reply, but Tara smiled broadly.

“Fafnir!” she shouted joyfully, then gave the polite dwarf response: “May your anvil resound!”

Tara ran to hug the imposing dwarf, who received her assault with dignity. Fafnir had changed. The beard that had marked her as an adolescent was gone. She no longer wore her red hair in beribboned braids, but gathered in a simple ponytail that fell almost to the ground. Her striking green eyes were underlined in black, and the bracelets on her arms looked about to snap under the tension of her impressive biceps. Her black jerkin sported so many knives and cutting implements that if she ever fell into a river, she would probably sink like a stone. And Tara suspected that her tight leather pants, whose red matched her hair, probably held an equal number of bad surprises for any eventual attacker. A large, beautifully worked pendant rested on her chest, clear evidence of her blacksmithing skill.

Fafnir looked spectacular, as usual. And she looked sincerely happy to see Tara and her friends.

Master Dragosh gave Fafnir a long, venomous once-over, then looked at the axe, which was still vibrating. He wasn't fooled. No dwarf would ever let their favorite weapon get away from them.

The slug, taking advantage of the relative calm, cautiously stuck out its last surviving eye.

Big mistake.

Dragosh reacted instantly. From his outstretched hands, a long jet of flame completely incinerated the giant gastropod. The cave opening wavered, and the destroyed trap disappeared, leaving only a blank section of wall.

The vampyr's reaction stunned the onlookers.

“What have you done?” yelped both of Lady Kalibris's heads at once.

“It would seem obvious,” Dragosh answered curtly. “I just neutralized the trap.”

“And it didn't occur to you—”

“—that the hunter-elves could have studied it to find out—”

“—who set it?”

“What you've done was completely stu—”

“—inappropriate!”

For a moment, the vampyr looked surprised at what he'd done. Then he scowled, turned on his heel in a great billowing of his spellbinder robe, and left without a word.

Counselor Salatar turned to Tara. The chimera opened his great lion's mouth with its darting tongues of flame, and spoke: “Hmm, well. Our friend Safir is a little jumpy right now. Please forgive him. As Their Majesties have commanded, you are welcome, Miss Duncan. However, I see that the attacks against your person have not ceased. Therefore, I would ask you to move around the castle as little as possible, and especially to stay well away from Their Majesties. High Wizard Manitou, I would appreciate it if you would see that your great-granddaughter complies with that request.”

The Labrador looked at him coldly, without responding. Caught up in the joy of seeing Fafnir again, Tara said only that she didn't plan to stay very long, and Salatar had to settle for that cryptic statement. Lady Kalibris, Lady Boudiou, and the chimera departed, leaving behind a crowd of buzzing courtiers, who were sure to spread the news of the event around Lancovit.

Tara sighed and turned to Fafnir. “Did you hear about Cal? He's got big problems.”

“So do I,” said the dwarf soberly.

“He's been arrested, and . . . What do you mean, so do you?” “If he was arrested, then why's he there, standing behind you,” asked the dwarf, without answering Tara's question.

Cal heard her and came over.

“So you recognized me in spite of my disguise?” he murmured, surprised.

“We dwarves have sharp eyes,” said Fafnir, shrugging her burly shoulders. “Didn't take me two minutes to see through your get-up.

You'll have to transform yourself more than that to fool me. You escaped, I suppose?”

“He'll explain all that in a minute,” said Tara cautiously, nodding toward some hovering courtiers. “Let's go to my room. Sparrow ought to lie down.”

The Living Castle, probably feeling sheepish at being her attacker's unwitting accomplice, didn't project any crevasses or other pitfalls under Tara's feet. Instead, it outdid itself in creating gorgeous OtherWorld landscapes when she reached her suite. Sparrow was feeling so nauseated that she lay down on the blue canopy bed without complaint. A worried Sheeba leaped up to join her and rested her muzzle on the girl's arm. Cal was relieved to cancel his transformation spell, reverting to his gray eyes and thatch of black hair.

They told Fafnir all about their recent adventures, but kept their word to the gnomes and omitted the secret about the excreted jewels.

Dwarves can't stand being locked up, so of course she completely approved of their jailbreak.

“Well, none of that stuff is too serious,” she finally said, “but what's happening to me is a real catastrophe.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Cal, taken aback by that startling statement. “I could be eaten alive by parasite worms, and you don't think that's serious? In that case, I'm curious to know what's happening to you.”

“I'm getting angry.”

The five friends looked each other, then burst out laughing. Fafnir frowned.

“Did I say something funny?”

Robin took a deep breath, mastered his urge to laugh, and explained: “Let's just say that you dwarves aren't especially known for your calm and moderation.”

Cal translated: “He means you have lousy personalities.”

“That's not true at all,” said Fafnir stiffly. “And in any case that's not the issue. Last time I got angry I almost wiped out our entire camp. We were exploring a new ore vein. We'd just come back up to the surface. I was broiling a brrraaa steak, and suddenly
poof!
Everything went black. When I awoke I was tied up, Tanir, Brendir, and Glenir were wounded, and I'd knocked out Blenda and Chantar. And it gets worse.”

“Worse?” exclaimed Sparrow. “What can be worse for a dwarf than to attack another dwarf? Doing something like that usually brings a death sentence, doesn't it?”

Tara turned to her.

“Tell me something, Sparrow,” she said. “In your world do you settle all your problems by killing people?”

“Each group of people deals with this sort of thing in its own way. Dwarves aren't known for their patience or their compassion. If a dwarf is guilty of attempted murder, they're executed. Period.”

“The High Council of Dwarves recognized that I had extenuating circumstances,” explained Fafnir.

“Oh really?” said a surprised Sparrow. “What were they?”

“That I wasn't myself. According to my friends, my skin turned purple, almost black, and my voice changed. I ordered them to bow down and worship me, like a god. When they laughed, I tried to kill them. It was one against five, but I almost whipped them because my blasted magic came back! Blendir said he heaved his war hammer at me, but a magic shield appeared and blocked it. It took three of them to take me down!”

The friends stared at Fafnir in astonishment. Dwarves hate magic. Actually, “hate” doesn't begin to describe it. “Makes them puke” is more like it. The friends thought Fafnir had rid herself of her magic when she drank the rose petal brew on the Island of Black Roses.

Clearly, that wasn't the case.

Cal said what they were all thinking: “So, they banished you again?”

The dwarf bent her red head. “Yeah. And if I don't get rid of this cursed magic, I'll be exiled for good.”

“As I see it, we have a number of problems on our hands,” said Tara, summing up. “Cal has to free the gnomes so he can get rid of the t'sil worms and avoid a horrible death. He also has to prove that he's innocent of the murder he's charged with. Fafnir has to rid herself of her magic and the possession that turns her into a megalomaniacal red monster. I have to find who's trying to kill me, while avoiding being captured by Magister. Isn't that awesome? Just think: a few months ago my biggest concern was picking which modern language to study in school, and buying a new bathing suit!”

Manitou gave a wolfish smile. “I remember that when you were little you often said you were bored and wished your life would be more exciting. So, what are you complaining about? Your dreams have come true!”

“Grandpa?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Next time I make a wish, do me a favor and bite me!”

“I never bite members of my own family,” said the dog quite seriously. “Only strangers.”

“It was the black roses, wasn't it?” interrupted Fafnir. “There was something in their juice. And that something got into me.”

“Wait a moment,” said Tara, feeling in her pocket. “I'm going to ask the living stone if it can tell us a little more about the entity that imprisoned it on the island.”

She pulled out the glittering stone and explained the situation.

Friend, you, show,
ordered the stone.

Tara obeyed, holding the stone out in front of her. It projected a luminous halo onto the dwarf. Then the light faded and the stone spoke, this time in a voice they could all hear: “Aie, aie, aie! Fafnir eaten by Soul Ravager. It tried use me to flee. It tried use Fafnir also. No choice have you will.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your friend kill have to will you. If Ravager eat Fafnir, then Ravager free and Ravager eat all peoples, then planet, then universe!”

“The universe, is that all?” exclaimed Cal, bug-eyed. “You know, you were right! Your problems
are
worse than mine!”

“If an evil spirit tried to possess me, my faithful axe would take my life and the Ravager's,” Fafnir declared bitterly. “No one possesses a dwarf against her will!”

“He seize you how many?” asked the stone.

“Just once,” answered Fafnir, who had figured out the stone's odd way of speaking. “Or, at least that's the only time I remember. I immediately left Hymlia for Lancovit to ask Master Chem for help, but he's still in Omois.”

Cal chuckled. “I don't think the empress told our national dragon that we've disappeared. So, he must be flailing around to get me released without realizing that I'm already here.”

“When I was traveling to Travia I had to fight a terrible impulse,” the dwarf continued. “That
thing
wanted me to go to the Island of Black Roses. I think this Ravager guy must still be there. And he's trying to get me there so he can completely take me over.”

“You right possibly,” said the stone. “Maybe Ravager not succeed eat Fafnir good enough if Fafnir far away. Maybe Ravager need Fafnir on island. Fafnir must never go Black Roses Island, or Fafnir end up midnight snack!”

Tara could see the dwarf turning pale under her coppery tan and spoke up.

“Listen, Fafnir, here is what we're going to do. First we're going to get
The Forbidden Book—or
at least try—and put it in a safe place before the gnomes can steal it. Then we have to free the gnomes from Magister's control, assuming he's behind all this, and try to destroy his famous artifactum. That will allow us to get the antidote for Cal. In the meantime, you can go to Omois and discuss your problem with Master Chem. As soon as we finish our mission we'll take care of you. How's that?”

“I can wait,” answered the dwarf proudly. “Now that I've been warned, that thing won't overcome my resistance so easily. And I'll help you steal the book. I can talk to Chem afterward.”

Cal grimaced as he studied the massive dwarf.

“Er, for stealing the book, that won't be necessary,” he said cautiously. “Sparrow and I can handle it. Right, Sparrow?”

He was answered with silence. The girl had fainted again.

Summoned by the panicked kids, Shaman Night Bird had Sparrow brought to the infirmary.

“The young princess has a concussion,” he announced. “The Healus is working, but moving her is out of the question for the moment. I want to keep her in observation for a while. And I'll alert her parents right away.”

“Can we see her?” asked Tara, who was very concerned. “Sure, go ahead. She just woke up.”

Sparrow was resting and looked as white as the infirmary canopy bed she was lying in.

“I'm so sorry,” she said with a sigh. “I don't know what it is, but I can't keep my eyes open.”

“Then close them,” ordered Cal, who had disguised his appearance again. “You don't need to see in order to hear us. Listen, I'm going to go steal the book without you. Just repeat the instruction sequence, and I'll take care of everything.”

The fact that Sparrow didn't object proved to them that she really wasn't well. To make sure there was no mistake, they all memorized the steps to get into the secret Book Room.