Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book (34 page)

Cal gritted his teeth and continued: “All right. What else?”

“Find the White Soul. That's the only solution.”

“What does this White Soul look like?”

“It's a statuette of a woman with her arms raised in supplication. It's white and luminous.”

The Voice projected an image of a statue about a foot tall and began to rotate it. The expression on the woman's face was of indescribable sadness.

“And once we find it?”

“You have to put it on the Island of Black Roses, that's all I know.”

“And this thing could be in the hands of the Mud Eaters, right? Who are allied with our worst enemy and who tried to lock us up?”

“I would've been tempted to lock you up myself,” said the Voice with a chuckle, “so I understand them very well. When you come right down to it, those crude creatures have pretty good taste.”

Cal ground his teeth and got up without comment. The others followed him, and—to the Voice's disappointment—left the Discussarium.

Out in the corridor, Fabrice couldn't resist. Gazing at Cal adoringly, he purred: “So, handsome spellbinder, what do we do now?”

“Oh, shove it!” Cal barked. “For the time being, there's no way to warn Fafnir; she must already be in the Swamps of Desolation. All we can do is wait for her to come back. And since the empress ordered us to attend the Dilution, we really don't have any choice.”

In fact, they would have gladly skipped it, but a glance at the portal Room quickly convinced them there was no point in trying to leave Omois. The guards, already quite numerous in normal times, had been reinforced for the mourning period and the arrival of many foreign dignitaries. Kings, queens, presidents, ministers, and counselors from all over OtherWorld and the other planets arrived in a steady stream, and poor Kali was looking a bit haggard. King Bear had to preside over a trial and hadn't been able to come, so only Queen Titania was present. Master Chemnashaovirodaintrachivu showed up with a whole delegation of dragons, but Isabella wasn't along, to Tara's great relief.

Fabrice wasn't so lucky. Damien confirmed that the young earth-ling's father was indeed there and watched curiously as Fabrice turned white and green at the same time.

From then on Fabrice shut himself away in their rooms, trembling each time the door opened. He did have to leave the suite for lunch, but luckily the sovereigns and their guests ate their meals in another part of the palace. Tara's little group wasn't invited, which allowed Fabrice to avoid his father for a little longer.

The empress had prepared a spectacular feast. Meat and fowl from OtherWorld, hot spices from Dranvouglispenchir, the dragon planet, grains, sprouts, tubercles, semolina, breads, pasta, and other delights from Santivor, the Truth Tellers' planet, cheeses from Earth, and sweet wines from Tadix, OtherWorld's larger moon. The desserts were prepared by the greatest pastry chefs, and included an amazing fountain of white and dark chocolate mousse, pastries filled with sweet whaloon cream, and OtherWorld fruit tarts—blackberry, strawberry, cherry, apple, vlir, mrmoum, and gandari—not to mention the candies and marshmallows served with coffee, tea, and the soothing brew called kax.

Manitou was so happy, he forgot he was human—psychically human, that is—and wagged his tail while tasting everything. The silverware had some trouble feeding him, and the fork finally gave up after the Lab's powerful jaws twice nearly bent its tines.

After two hours at the table, Manitou had eaten so much, he could hardly walk. Tara couldn't help but chuckle when he gave a resounding burp! She didn't know that dogs could belch like humans. She drank a bit of Tzinpaf, the delicious apple-orange cola drink, while looking warily at the Soothsuckers. But she couldn't resist, and soon found herself reading another message: “You must save him, he doesn't deserve it.” Save who? From what? Tara sighed. She was getting a little fed up being the masked avenger, supposedly because she had some sort of really big power. Besides, in movies it was usually the boys who rescued the girls. Well, usually.

A loud gong roused Tara from her thoughts. The Dilution was about to begin. The spellbinders and courtiers all left the dining rooms and headed to the imperial park.

The thrones had been set out on a pedestal, surrounded by the guests and the high wizards. Tara, Cal, Fabrice, Manitou, Sparrow, and Robin found out that they had been seated next to the two sovereigns!

Empress Lisbeth looked stunning in a black robe studded with rubies in a golden-eyed peacock pattern. Her mass of hair, colored black for the occasion, set off her blue eyes and white skin with almost painful intensity. A simple black gold band set with black diamonds encircled her brow. She was thoroughly imperial, and the courtiers looked awed.

When Cal sat down next to her, he felt very embarrassed to be in the guest of honor's seat. Whistling with surprise, the crystalists started feverishly writing headlines for the newsrystals: “Empress Finds New Suitor” and “Mysterious Stranger: A New Prince Consort?”

Emperor Sandor wasn't enjoying any of this. His black armor made him look small, he was in a foul mood, and his half-sister was being far too friendly with the handsome stranger. So he lent an attentive ear when the majordomo signaled the herald to announce the guests. The herald was a wrinkled creature whose mouth was shaped like a bullhorn, and his task was to introduce the guests to the imperial couple. When their name was called, each stood and bowed to the twin thrones. The Omois sovereigns nodded politely in response.

The herald soon came to the following name: “Count Salendourivor.”

All eyes swung toward the two thrones, but nobody stood up.

The herald, feeling a little awkward, said, “Count Caliban Dal Salan of Salendourivor.”

Sparrow was the first to get it, and she poked Cal in the ribs.

“That's you,” she whispered. “Stand up and bow!”

“What?” he exclaimed, completely lost.

The empress leaned over and murmured: “Sorry, I forgot to tell you. The estate I gave you is a county, so you are now the Count of Salendourivor.”

Cal leaped to his feet and bowed with unbearable grace. Smiling happily, the empress returned his greeting. The emperor followed with a curt nod, while scowling at the young man.

Kali turned to Fabrice, who was seated next to her.

“I don't understand,” she whispered. “Isn't your friend's name Bond? James Bond?”

It was a tough moment for Fabrice, since bursting out laughing in the middle of a funeral ceremony wasn't quite proper. Kali must have thought him very rude because he seemed unable to answer her. When she saw him turning red, she gave up.

Funeral orations to the late prince followed, and Fabrice was able to compose himself. Bandiou's body floated peacefully in and landed gently on the black lawn.

Contrary to Tara's expectations, the ceremony was quite short. The empress clearly didn't want her uncle praised too much. As soon as the speeches were over, the body began to sink into the ground. And as it liquefied a curious phenomenon happened. The grass became blue again, the black trees regained their vivid colors, the birds their bright plumage, the flowers their blazing hues. The empress's robe and the emperor's armor were the last to change, going from black to shining white.

The spellbinders immediately followed their example, and the crowd broke up without further ado.

“Uh-oh,” muttered Sparrow. “Here come Count Besois-Giron and Master Chem!”

Fabrice looked totally panicked. But he realized there was no way out, so he settled down to face the music.

On the right, the count was reading the riot act to his son, while on the left the dragon did the same for Tara. She had gone off again without telling him, and Chem found that truly exasperating.

Tara wanted to come to Fabrice's rescue, so she simply apologized to Master Chem and promised—with her fingers crossed behind her back—never to do it again. Or, at least not without warning him first.

Fabrice was sweating under the barrage of questions from his father, notably about a certain theft of keys and an unauthorized transfer. The boy was bravely trying to explain the chain of circumstances that involved them in Bandiou's death while trashing his father's greenhouse, roses, well, and half his garden. The count had seen the result but didn't know why or how it had happened.

The empress was eavesdropping without being obvious about it, and she finally intervened. Without revealing all the ins and outs of the affair, she let the count know that his son had been very helpful to the empire, and that his actions as a temporary secret agent had earned him a beautiful estate or its equivalent in immuta-credits. Besois-Giron was speechless with surprise.

Empress Lisbeth took advantage of this to again compliment Fabrice, and that did the trick. He would not be grounded for the next fifty years. He just had to swear not to do it again, which he did, perspiring with relief.

The empress would have gladly kept Tara's little group under her benevolent surveillance, but Master Chem firmly turned her down. He wanted the them all to return to Lancovit on urgent business, and she had to yield.

She left after a last, regretful glance at Cal, and the group headed to the Transfer Room with the dragon.

“Is everything all right?” asked Tara, worried. “Any news of Fafnir?”

“No, she isn't back yet,” Chem answered. “About Caliban: isn't his disguise a little showy?”

“Tell me about it!” said gorgeous Cal, sighing. “I just wanted to change my appearance a bit for little while. I borrowed some of Tara's power, and this is the result.”

Master Chem was impressed. “I see. And how long has this lasted?”

“Since yesterday,” said Cal very unhappily.

“Oh! Well, it's quite a demonstration! All right, let's hurry up. We've got to get back to Lancovit as quickly as possible.”

“Why? Is there a problem?” asked Fabrice, noticing the distress in the dragon's voice.

“Yes. A very big problem, you might say. Safir Dragosh has confessed to murder!”

“W
hat? That's impossible!” exclaimed Sparrow, who knew Master Dragosh well.

“No, it isn't,” said Cal, who didn't like the vampyr at all. “When we ran into him at the alley his mouth was bloody, and the guy Manitou and Fafnir saw was lying there dead.”

Tara had read enough Agatha Christie mysteries to know that things weren't always as they seemed. Like Christie's detective hero Hercule Poirot, she could feel her brain getting busy.

“He said that something terrible had happened,” Tara said aloud. “And that he had to notify Their Majesties. We were kind of in a hurry just then, so we didn't try to figure it out. What happened after that?”

“He returned to the castle and told Robin's father that a murder had been committed,” said Chem. “When the elves examined the body, they found the man died from loss of blood due to a deep bite in the jugular vein.”

“And the secret services say Dragosh was the only vampyr present in Lancovit at the time of the attack,” said Robin.

“The only vampyr officially present,” said Tara. “What's to prove that another vampyr wasn't around?”

“That's impossible,” said Sparrow. “Vampyrs have to notify the authorities when they go anywhere. Ever since the great Starlings War, when they were allies of the Edrakins and ravaged the continent's countries, they can't travel without registering.”

“But I thought human blood was harmful to vampyrs.”

“Very harmful,” Chem confirmed. “It cuts their life expectancy in half, they can't stand sunlight anymore, and their bite becomes poisonous. That's how they enslave humans.”

“Yuck!” said Fabrice. “I like this world, but your monsters are a little too aggressive for my taste.”

“We haven't had any problem with vampyrs for years,” said Chem. “And I'm absolutely sure Dragosh isn't guilty. That's why I want to attend the trial. I'd like to understand what's going on.”

Having reached the Portal Room, they had to interrupt their conversation. Kali looked displeased that Mr. Bond was leaving so soon. When the shaft of golden light hit him, bathing Cal's body in a flaming glow, she couldn't repress a deep sigh of disappointment.

In a few short seconds they were back in Lancovit.

“You should go back to your mother and grandmother, Tara,” announced Chem after greeting the Cyclops who oversaw the portal. “You're not safe here on OtherWorld. Also, your mother said something about classes, and school, and late registration.”

“Are they still hung up on that stupid idea? What's the point of going to school if I can learn a book by heart just by casting a spell?”

The dragon shrugged helplessly. “I have no idea what they want you to do, but I agree with them. Whoever wants to kill you certainly hasn't given up.”

Tara studied the dragon wizard carefully. She hadn't forgotten the mysterious killer, of course. In fact, when she reached the Living Castle, she'd instinctively scanned her surroundings for signs of an animatrap. The castle could sense her anxiety and projected lovely, inoffensive landscapes: blue hills, trees in bloom, and frolicking animals. Its good intentions were a little spoiled when a peacefully grazing mooouuu was suddenly swallowed whole by a passing snaptooth. Tara had to look away, gagging. Snapteeth would make the most demented Earth tigers jealous.

Her thoughts returned to Master Chem. Tara sensed there was something that he wanted. And he said she “should” go back to Earth, not she “must.” Maybe playing on the big saurian's heartstrings will give him a reason to keep me here.

“Master, I understand that my mother and grandmother are worried,” she began, smiling sweetly. “And to be honest I'm not exactly at ease on your planet, either. But my friends and I have spent a lot of time dealing with Cal's problems and then Fafnir's. We haven't had any real vacation time together. I'd really like to be able to spend a few more days with my friends. May I, please?”