Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book (33 page)

“No, that was not the only solution we came up with,” answered the empress coldly. “We had no evidence to present to the court, so we couldn't formally charge Bandiou. Before Caliban was accused by Brandis's parents—which we had nothing to do with, by the way—we'd settled on another plan. A much simpler one.”

She paused, challenging the friends to question her. Tara didn't hesitate: “And your plan was?”

“We tried to assassinate him,” she answered simply.

“Wow!” exclaimed Fabrice. “Wonderful family relationships in this world of yours.”

“When it's a matter of power, there's no family, and no friends,” said the empress with a sigh. “Anyway, it didn't work. Bandiou had become too powerful. He sent our assassin back to us. In little packages.”

Her statement was followed by a heavy silence. But it was quickly broken by Tara, who was still angry. “So, you put together this whole complicated plan so we would get rid of your uncle! What if it hadn't worked?”

“I wasn't trying to get you to rid me of my uncle,” protested the empress. “Once the gnomes were free and the evidence of his crime presented, my high wizards would have made short work of him. But the five of you are a kind of uncontrollable weapon, and it turned out to be quite fatal to him.”

“How did you know that we would be so . . . effective?” Cal dared to ask. “After all, we're just kids. As plans go, wasn't that one a little risky?”

“All OtherWorld knows that you caused the fall of the very powerful Magister, whom neither the dragons nor the high wizards had managed to locate. And you freed our apprentice spellbinders. So, when Brandis's parents accused Caliban Dal Salan, we seized the opportunity. Together, the emperor and I cast a Mentus Interruptus. And there, we got a surprise.”

“A surprise?” asked Sparrow, who was fascinated.

“There was already an extremely powerful Mentus on Caliban and on Miss Brandaud.”

“That's incredible,” murmured Manitou, reflecting the general feeling. “So, you were interfering with someone else's plans. But when you asked for Brandis's manes to be called back, weren't you afraid he would declare Cal and Angelica innocent?”

The empress's smile became mocking. “There was a second spell on the ghost. A very subtle one that made him do exactly as we wished. We didn't intervene. So Caliban and Miss Brandaud were convicted. When Xandiar came to tell me that Caliban had disappeared, the emperor and I suspected that the gnomes had helped him escape. The rest of you clearly hadn't been informed, since you went and put half my palace to sleep. Then you disappeared in turn. I stopped Xandiar from pursuing you. That's the reason I asked him to accompany me this evening—so he could understand.”

She gave the tall guard captain a kind smile, and he nodded gratefully.

“Finally, Guardian Besois-Giron showed up with my uncle's body and a fantastic story about a storm, a fall from a dock, and a broken neck. To his great relief, we pretended to believe him, and we declared a period of mourning. So, here we are.”

“Crap! That means we went to Limbo for nothing!” exclaimed Cal angrily.

“Limbo?” asked Empress Lisbeth, surprised. “I don't understand.”

“I wasn't absolutely positive about your role in this business,” explained Tara. “I was only going on a hunch. So, we traveled to Limbo to call Brandis's manes back and have him judge Cal again. It's all recorded on a taludi.”

“Oh, but there was no need of that,” exclaimed the empress. “I pardoned Caliban and Miss Brandaud when mourning was declared. Didn't you get the official announcement in Lancovit?”

Up to then, Cal had remained standing, unconsciously displaying his impressive physique to best advantage. He now flopped into an armchair.

“By my ancestors!” he muttered. “I can't believe it. Nobody told us!”

“So let me repeat my question,” she said. “What reward can I give to the people who just saved my empire?”

The six friends were too stunned to answer, so the empress went on. “To Caliban, I offer the Salendourivor estate in the north of Omois. Its livestock and fields bring in about a hundred thousand immuta-credits a year. It will be a place to retire to after his exploits as a licensed thief.”

Looking elegantly world-weary, Cal just stared at her.

“For Princess Gloria,” she continued, “because you belong to the royal house of Lancovit, I imagine that an estate in our country could be misinterpreted. However, I understand that you would like to pursue research with the dwarves on the sources of OtherWorld magic. I own parchments and documents that are unique in the world. They are yours.”

Sparrow stood up and bowed deeply, too moved to speak.

“High Wizard Manitou, the Imitanchivor estate awaits you. It is identical to Salendourivor and comes with every comfort, including the personal services of the famous chef François, one of the best in OtherWorld.”

“Your Majesty . . . that's too great an honor,” stammered the dog, who was already drooling.

“Robin, I believe your dearest wish is to enter the Lancovit secret services, like your father. I'd like to offer you a position as an officer in mine, effective immediately. It would make you our youngest officer, but your experience is undeniable. I won't offer you a piece of property. I know that you elves don't like to live outside of your country, and that you return to Selenda whenever you can. Lest you feel shortchanged, I will have a bank account opened in your name with a sum that matches the income from the other properties.”

“Majesty, your generosity is boundless! The money will be welcome in Selenda. But I must decline your invitation to join your secret services. My father feels he isn't finished training me. I thank you nonetheless.”

“As you wish. But my offer remains open if you decide not to stay with your father.”

Lisbeth then turned to Fabrice.

“Young Besois-Giron, you're the only one on whom I don't have much information. Would you also like an estate?”

“Thank you, Your Imperial Majesty, but I have my father's. Serving you is reward enough.”

“Hmm, an elegant answer. But elegance doesn't put food on the table. I will create an account for you under the same conditions as for your friend Robin. Does that suit you?”

“Marvelously, Your Imperial Majesty.”

“As for you, young Tara'tylanhnem—”

“I know what I want,” interrupted Tara as politely as possible. She was annoyed to see her friends rapt with admiration for the empress, when she had just blatantly manipulated them. “I would like access to the classified information in your Discussarium.”

The empress stiffened.

“What classified information?” she asked cautiously.

“About the Ravager of Souls. We're having some problems with him.”

The empress whistled through her teeth. “By my ancestors! You know how to choose your enemies, young lady. The Ravager—is that all? I know he was imprisoned by Demiderus himself, because he betrayed the human cause by allying himself with the demons in the Great Rifts Battle. He is extremely dangerous, because he can't be destroyed. Your request is granted. You can access the information in the Discussarium. I will give the order when I leave here. And though you probably won't want it, I am also giving you Sevendareve in Tarvenchir, an estate near mine.”

Tara was about to refuse, but the empress stopped her with a gesture. “Wait. Go see the property before you turn my gift down. If you really don't like it, then I will withdraw the offer and replace it with immuta-credits.”

Tara bowed her head obediently. She had gotten what she wanted, and there was no point in annoying the powerful sovereign.

“As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty.”

“Very well.”

The young woman smoothly got to her feet and drew the hooded cape around her.

“Let's go, Xandiar. We still have a lot to do. I'm counting on you all later for the Dilution.”

The empress left, followed by her extremely nervous guard.

“Tara!” exclaimed Sparrow. “Enough is enough!”

Tara looked up, surprised by the girl's tone.

“We're friends, aren't we?” Sparrow asked firmly. “Much more than that, actually. After everything we've been through, we absolutely trust each other, right?”

“Er, of course,” said Tara, who had no idea what she was getting at.

“Then the next time you have doubts, hunches, or suspicions, don't just keep them to yourself, understand? You have to share everything with your friends, even at the risk of looking like a complete idiot. I hate it when you hide things from us!”

“I'm sorry,” Tara said with a sheepish smile. “It's just I didn't want to bother you with my stupid ideas. The plan seemed so complicated and so unlikely. In the beginning I figured Magister was behind everything. I didn't think of the empress at all! Besides, my grandmother taught me not to annoy her with my problems, so I tend to work them out by myself.”

“Well, I'm not your grandmother! And problems we solve together. Okay?”

“Okay.”

They spent the next hour discussing the empress's lavish gifts. Eventually, excitement gave way to fatigue and they went back to bed.

Cal was still gorgeous the next morning and as tall and muscular as ever—to his dismay.

“How long is this blasted spell gonna last, for Pete's sake?” he grumbled into his breakfast bowl.

Sparrow looked up from her slice of whaloon buttered bread.

“Considering how powerful Tara's magic is, it might last your whole life,” she said teasingly.

Cal stared at her in horror.

“You think so?” he quavered. “You think I'm stuck in this fat body?”

“Hey!” protested Tara. “You're not fat.”

“Nope,” agreed Sparrow. “I think you're beautifully proportioned. You did a great job, Tara.”

“But I'm a thief, for crying out loud! I have to be small and agile and able to slip into places without being noticed. How do you expect me to do my work looking like this?”

“Well, you'll just be a high-profile thief,” suggested Fabrice. “Very high-profile.”

For a moment, they thought Cal would start weeping. Instead, he just glowered at them.

“All right,” he said. “What do we do now?”

“We're going to the Discussarium to get information about the Ravager,” said Tara, trying to hide a smile. “That way, if Isabella and Fabrice's father come here for the Dilution and we get grounded for the next fifty years, Sparrow and Robin will still be able to give Fafnir the information.”

This jolted Fabrice back to reality.

“Yeah, and I hope you'll visit us from time to time,” he said. “If Isabella doesn't turn us into toads for disobeying her first, that is.”

As they headed for the Discussarium, Tara and Sparrow couldn't help but laugh each time a female spellbinder bumped into a wall or a tree—or fainted—on catching sight of gorgeous Cal. He picked up the pace until they practically sprinted to the Discussarium.

Entering the big hall, they sat at a table in a sphere of silence. Cal, who was in no mood to be trifled with, barked at the Voice: “All right, we're authorized now. So give us the information about the Ravager, and make it snappy!”

“Ohhhh, with pleasure, handsome spellbinder,” cooed the Voice.

Cal groaned. Tara and Sparrow chuckled.

“The Ravager is an enemy of OtherWorld who allied himself with the demons and was taken prisoner by Demiderus after the Great Rifts Battle. The only entity that can fight him is the White Soul, an extremely powerful magic artifactum. After Demiderus imprisoned the Ravager on the Island of Black Roses, a knight whose family had been killed because of him wanted revenge. He took the White Soul and went to the Swamps of Desolation.”

Tara was fascinated. “So what happened?” she asked.

“He was killed. The Ravager set a trap with the help of the Mud Eaters, and the knight never reached the island.”

“That means the White Soul can't be very far from it!” exclaimed Sparrow. “We have to talk to the Mud Eaters.”

Tara wasn't too crazy about that approach. After all, the Mud Eaters were Magister's minions.

“Er, I'm not sure that's such a hot idea,” she began. “Fafnir is fine for the time being. And even though the Ravager managed to possess her a couple of times, she pulled through all right, didn't she?”

“Are you saying the Ravager touched one of your friends?” asked the Voice, sounding incredulous.

“Yes, a dwarf named Fafnir. She was partly possessed after drinking a brew made from black roses.”

“Ye gods!” exclaimed the Voice, all cooing forgotten. “That information must be immediately shared with the empress and the emperor. If the Ravager gets free, all life on the planet will be in danger!”

“King Bear and Queen Titania have sent two high wizards with her on a scouting trip to find out what's happening on the Island of Black Roses.”

“What? They're out of their minds!” The Voice now sounded completely panicked. “Without the White Soul, no power on earth can defeat the Ravager. And sending the dwarf near the island is the best way for her to become totally possessed. By my creators, they don't teach you anything in those books of yours!”

“That information was classified!” Cal reminded him firmly. “You even refused to give it to us yesterday. So how could the king and queen possibly know it? Unlike your empress, they aren't descended from Demiderus.”

“That's no reason,” said the Voice angrily. “You don't realize—”

“That's just it, we don't,” Cal interrupted. “So, what should we do?”

“You're a magnificent specimen of a spellbinder,” the Voice answered quite seriously. “So I would advise you not to get close to the Ravager. It would be a pity to spoil so much beauty.”