The annoyed arms dealers bent their heads.
“Oh, all right,” grumbled the first. “Go ahead and take it. And be sure to tell the High Council that we gave it to you.”
“Perfect!” said Tara, snatching up the arrows and ornate quiver that went with the bow. “It’s a pleasure doing business with you.”
At his stall next door, the dwarf was hooting with laughter.
“Ha, ha, ha! Looks like our little elves outsmarted themselves! They went fishing for puffer sardines but caught a slasher shark instead! Well done, miss. That was a sight worth seeing. As a token of my appreciation, please accept this dagger as a gift. Its name is Needle. Take good care of it. It doesn’t have any magic, but it won’t bend and it won’t break. See you again sometime, girl. May your hammer ring clear.”
Before Tara could protest the dwarf’s sudden generosity—or respond with the polite, “May your anvil resound”—he had already turned away to serve other customers.
The friends walked for several blocks before Robin began to emerge from his wonderment. He was so distracted that he kept treading on Sparrow’s heels.
“He’s just like Fabrice with Barune,” she said sarcastically. “Hey, would you mind looking where you’re going, please? You’ll have all the time in the world to get to know your new toy.”
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” said Robin for the thousandth time. “Gorgeous,” answered Sparrow, also for the thousandth time. “Oh, Tara, look! That girl’s wearing a copy of your glyph on her neck.”
The young shopper’s neckline was low enough to reveal a shiny ornament at her throat. But it was a poor copy of the gift that the colors had given Tara in Limbo when she freed them from the Demon King. When Tara didn’t keep it discreetly covered, her throat displayed a wild, baroque jewel that combined ebony, diamond, emerald, sapphire, and ruby.
As they walked, Tara began to pay more attention to the crowd. The fashion in OtherWorld was no fashion at all, she noticed. Since anyone could create whatever outfit they wanted and magic allowed every extravagance, the resulting spectacle was fascinating. There were lots of feathers, furs, and leathers of every color, plus materials she couldn’t identify, probably made from the silk or spit of some exotic animal. Tailors and dressmakers only worked for the nonspells, who could be distinguished from spellbinders by their relatively sober clothing.
Sparrow pointed out a fat woman who ambled along wrapped in a kind of living dress created by a swarm of tiny brilliant balls. Another woman showed off her beautiful body thanks to lengths of muslin tossed about by a breeze she generated herself. One bystander, completely covered in purple feathers, was chatting with another whose body was encased in a shiny black carapace.
Gradually, the crowd began to thin. Cal led them through a maze of streets to an attractive house hidden behind a thick hedge of bushes that clicked their thorns at them. The bushes parted when Cal put his hands on them, but he grimaced as the thorns pricked his skin.
Suddenly Sparrow screamed and instinctively shifted into beast shape. Before her stood a monster with seven heads, each one hissing with bared teeth. Tara summoned her power and Robin nocked an arrow to his bow. But Cal stepped ahead of them, walking straight toward the drooling maws.
The monster bent down as if to swallow him, but let itself fall to the ground at Cal’s feet with an earth-shaking boom! and rolled over on its back, yelping happily.
“Yes, Toto, it’s me! How’s my big boy? I’ve missed you!” Cal continued in this affectionate vein as he scratched around the eyes of every head he could reach.
“Toto?” exclaimed Tara incredulously. “You call this thing Toto?”
“Well, yeah,” said Cal, sounding a little embarrassed. “My parents gave it to me for my third birthday. At the time, Toto seemed like a nice name.”
“It’s a hydra!” cried Sparrow, who was trying to get her heartbeat down from the stratosphere. She shifted back into human shape and her robe groaned as it regained its normal dimensions. “I thought hydras weren’t allowed in the city.”
“Mom has a special dispensation because she often keeps valuables at home,” he said. Then to the hydra: “Go ahead and smell them, Toto. You can let them in; they’re friends.”
When a head as big as Tara swung over to delicately sniff her, she almost choked. Rising from the monster’s armored, olive-green body were seven black heads with seven pink, wet tongues, and Tara knew some Doberman pinschers who would envy their teeth.
“Next time, Cal, please warn me!” said Robin in a friendly way, as he released the tension on his bow. “Your Toto nearly took seven arrows in its throats.”
“Er, I’m really sorry,” said Cal, who of course had done it deliberately, having forgotten that his friend was once again armed and on edge.
At his command the hydra obediently stepped aside, whining softly when Cal walked into the house.
The interior smelled of fresh roses, which made sense, since an entire bank of them cascaded down one of the walls. It was carefully tended by a half-dozen buzzing little fairies. The floor was covered with a kind of soft fur that purred as it wrapped itself around their ankles. They passed into what would be a spacious living room, except that it was terribly cluttered with books, maps, parchments, and gleaming, ornately carved objects. Delighted to be of service, the sofa and chairs bounded over to meet them.
The friends had barely sat down when plates and silverware rushed in from the kitchen accompanied by dishes being filled at top speed. This included tea, hot chocolate, and Tzinpaf, candies, and cream puffs. There was a steak for Cal, who tore into it as if he hadn’t eaten any meat for the past two days, which was actually the case. Sparrow ate three cream puffs, Robin six, and as for Manitou, Tara stopped counting after the twentieth. She noticed that her hot chocolate tasted slightly of honey and nuts, and learned that the particular flavor came from cacao beans imported from Earth. The furry carpet watched for any falling crumbs and ate them, quivering with delight.
Tara and Sparrow were extremely curious to see Cal’s bedroom, but he stubbornly barred the way. He wasn’t about to let them make fun of him because of his posters of Shakira, an Earth singer whose voice he loved—along with her hypnotically swinging hips.
Cal quickly gathered a half-dozen sharp-edged implements and stuffed them into the pockets of his robe. As Tara had learned, those pockets could accommodate practically anything, yet never became lumpy or heavy. His choices made, Cal left a taludi for his parents informing them of his escape. He then filled a purse with immuta-creds, took a couple of parchments, and went out with his friends. Toto looked heartbroken when they left for the castle, and they could hear the hydra whimpering pathetically for a long time.
“We’ll go in the side way,” Cal explained as they walked toward the Living Castle. “It’s an entrance the castle itself showed me a few years ago.”
“You mean you talk with that big pile of stones?” asked a surprised Manitou. “It’s the first time in my life as a high wizard that I’ve heard of such a thing!”
“Well, we don’t exactly talk. More like I ask the castle for things, and it either does them or doesn’t react. It’s never been willing to make the walls of the girls’ dormitory transparent, for example. No help there at all.”
“Cal!” exclaimed Tara and Sparrow together, and Robin jabbed the little thief in the ribs.
“What? What have I said now?”
The Living Castle was well guarded. When Magister acquired demonic magic, the sovereigns, presidents, and other OtherWorld rulers finally realized the danger they faced, and the profession of guard grew by leaps and bounds. You could always tell new recruits: they went strictly by the book. On the other hand, they tended to paranoia and watched the castle and its surroundings obsessively. Rounds had been increased, and the friends had to wait for the guards to pass so they could get to the part of the castle that Cal had in mind.
Whistling casually—I’m just an innocent stroller, pay no attentio
n to me—he stopped in front of a section of a wall that looked no different from any other.
“Hmm, let me see,” Cal muttered, his brow furrowed. “What did it tell me? Oh, yeah! ‘Castle, fairest of them all, let your friends pass through the wall.’”
“‘Fairest of them all’?” repeated Robin incredulously.
“Hey, the castle’s a bit vain. What can I say?”
The wall underwent a kind of spasm and its stones vanished, creating an opening. Cal raised a fist and recited: “By Illuminus, drive the dark away and brightly show and light our way.” An intense light immediately began to glow.
They were apparently in the depths of the castle; the dungeons, in fact. Sparrow shivered as they passed dark cells in which she could make out skeletons, still in chains. Lancovit’s past had apparently been a little more savage than the history books reported.
They climbed many, many stairs.
Cal had taken the precaution of changing his appearance. He couldn’t maintain the subterfuge for long, but for the moment his hair was somewhere between red and chestnut, his eyes black instead of gray, and he had coarsened his delicate features. Blondin had been changed into an Arctic fox and was all white except for the black tip of his tail.
Finally climbing one last flight of stairs, they emerged into one of the main hallways—and into a raging storm.
The Living Castle was clearly in a bad mood. A very bad mood, indeed. A terrifying hurricane flattened trees and illusory landscapes. Icy gusts lifted the courtiers’ robes, to their offended shrieks, and ruffled Gallant’s mane and Sheeba’s and Blondin’s fur. The pegasus decided not to fly, to avoid risking being blown into a wall.
“Son of a gun!” exclaimed Cal. “What is it up to?”
The moment it heard his voice, the Living Castle seemed to hesitate. A patch of blue sky appeared among the heavy darkness weighing on its domes. Then a ray of sun timidly broke through the clouds. Soon, the lovely Mentalir landscape with its silvery unicorns and blue meadows returned, to the courtiers’ great relief.
“Really, the castle has been simply unbearable!” said a fat woman bundled in her spellbinder robe. “Two days of hurricane weather is beyond the pale. I don’t understand why Their Majesties didn’t intervene.”
“I think one of our young spellbinders was imprisoned in Omois,” said her companion. “The castle has been in a lousy mood ever since we heard the news. But things must’ve worked out, which would explain this nice sunshine.”
Cal was slack-jawed with astonishment.
“Did you hear that?” he stammered. “I had no idea that castle cared for me so much. It’s . . . it’s very unexpected.”
Robin slapped him on the back so hard he staggered. “All your friends are unexpected: gnomes, a magic castle, a half-elf. Your reputation’s made. You’re an eccentric, my dear Caliban.”
Suddenly, Tara screamed and stumbled backward.
In front of her a dark cave had yawned open. From it a monstrous, furious slug with a jaw full of mandibles emerged.
Tara held her breath. All right, the darned Living Castle has obviously gotten its weird sense of humor back. She had forgotten how much it loved to frighten young spellbinders with its ghostly projections.
The slug was barreling toward her, but Tara refused to be intimidated and stood her ground. The castle wasn’t about to trick her again!
So she was totally surprised when a mandible snagged her robe and violently yanked her toward the monster’s mouth!
Out of nowhere, an arrow brushed the tip of her ear and lodged in one of the slug’s six eyes. Howling in pain, the beast pulled in the shattered eye. It released Tara, who fell to all fours and scuttled backward at top speed, helped on her way when a large paw swatted her. Sparrow had instinctively shape-shifted and used her strength to push Tara out of danger. Gallant gave a fierce whinny, flew onto the giant worm’s back, and started biting it. Sparrow did the same, deftly dodging the mandibles and raking the giant gastropod with her claws. Hissing with pain, the slug swung its head sideways, tossing the beast against the wall.
Unable to avoid the impact, Sparrow screamed as she slammed into the wall. Then she fell to the ground, unconscious.
CHAPTER 7
A CRYSTAL TRAP
Sparrow shifted back into human shape under the impact, but remained unconscious.
The slug extended its mandibles, eager to devour the person who had been hurting it, but had to give up in the face of an enraged Sheeba and a fresh volley of arrows.
With Robin shooting at superhuman speed, the slug began to look like a monstrous porcupine. Meanwhile, the panther and the pegasus continued fiercely biting its back and flanks.
The number of arrows left in Robin’s quiver was gradually diminishing. When the arrows eventually ran out, the slug took the opportunity to move dangerously close. But the arrows suddenly yanked themselves out of its body, making the slug writhe and shriek in pain. Then they obediently flew back into the quiver. Once over his astonishment, Robin started shooting again.
After taking arrows in five of its eyes, the slug finally retreated into its cave, nearly knocking Gallant out against the cave roof in the process. The pegasus quickly took to the air and landed triumphantly next to Tara.
Keeping an eye on the mouth of the huge cave, and with his bow still drawn, Robin shouted to Tara, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” said Tara, “but Sparrow’s hurt. She isn’t moving.”
Tara was anxiously leaning over the unconscious girl. A deeply worried Sheeba stood near her companion, softly whining.
Cal quickly kneeled next to Sparrow and put his hand on her neck and intoned: “By Healus, ease this body’s pain and make our Sparrow well again.”
At that, Sparrow’s oddly bent arm straightened, and she began to move her head.
“Ow, ow, ow!” she moaned, glassy-eyed. “By my ancestors, what happened?”
“What happened is that you charged without thinking and got yourself knocked out!” said Manitou severely. “Against something that big and aggressive, you’re better off using a bow and arrow, or maybe a machine gun and, ideally, a cannon. Avoid hand-to-hand fighting at all costs. Don’t they teach you anything in your combat training sessions?”
“Well, not how to fight giant slugs,” muttered Sparrow, who was painfully struggling to her feet with Sheeba’s help. “It wasn’t on this year’s curriculum, anyway.”
The slug’s attack had been so fast and unexpected, it caught the astonished courtiers off guard. Now they all started screaming and calling for the guards. But then the din abated just as abruptly, and Tara’s heart skipped a beat when she saw who had just appeared at the end of the hall: Master Dragosh, Lady Boudiou, Lady Kalibris, and the chimera, First Counselor Salatar.
All right, I guess our low profile bit is pretty well shot, thought Tara. She could only hope that the empress hadn’t labeled all five of them fugitives.
“Get out of here, Cal!” whispered Sparrow, who was still gathering her wits. “They might recognize you in spite of your disguise.”
Nodding, the little thief slipped into the crowd.
Dragosh’s red eyes widened when he spotted Tara.
“So, it’s Miss Duncan!” the vampyr hissed malevolently. “I should’ve known you would be behind this commotion. What have you been up to now?”
“She didn’t do a thing!” Robin said angrily, while keeping a sharp eye on the cave. “She was attacked by carnivorous Salterian slug. Take a look.”
He pointed to a trail of slime left by the wounded slug glistening in the grass. The Living Castle canceled the Mentalir landscape, and they could clearly make out the viscous streaks on the bare stone.
“By Demiderus!” cried Lady Boudiou, “That slug is an animatrap!”
Sparrow started. “Of course! I should have realized that!”
“What’s an animatrap?” asked Tara.
“It’s a personal anti-personnel trap,” said Robin. “If somebody
wants to get rid of you but doesn’t know when you’ll pass a given spot, they set an animatrap there. The moment you enter its field, you’re detected and the trap springs.”
Sparrow chimed in: “Animatraps were used a lot in the last spellbinder wars, but fell out of favor long ago. Mom made me study them because many royal family members fell into traps like that when successions were . . . disputed, let’s say. This one wasn’t set for me, so I didn’t see it.”
“I see. Politics on your world is just so interesting! So, how can you detect these traps?” asked Tara.
“If you see something that looks blurry, like heat waves, it’s probably an animatrap. Be very careful, Tara! They’re hard to spot, which is why they’re so effective.”
“Great,” she muttered. “Now whenever I see a blur or the weather turns hot, I’ll be terrified. I just love this planet!”
“But whoever is after you hasn’t had much luck,” Lady Boudiou cheerfully pointed out. “You’re surrounded by faithful and vigilant friends. Come here, darling. I think you need some comforting.”
She tried to take Tara in her arms, but the girl quickly broke free.
Tara wasn’t terrorized; now she was furious. When she got her hands on whoever was after her, she would make them sorry they were ever born.
Just then, she noticed that Robin was looking at his bow doubtfully.
“Are you okay, Robin?”
“Yeah, except that I’ve had a little difference of opinion with my new bow. It popped into my hands before I called for it, and it shot the first arrow without my say-so. And it didn’t bother mentioning that it could call back its arrows. I think the two if us are going to have a little chat.”
Tara was about to speak when Dragosh returned to her.
“To what do we owe the dubious honor of your presence in Lancovit?” the vampyr asked in a tone so threatening that Tara instinctively activated her power.
Her hands glowed blue. The vampyr immediately stepped back and his hands started glowing red. The courtiers casually but quickly moved away from the two adversaries, carefully opening a space between them. Tara couldn’t help thinking that magic duels looked a lot like old Western shootouts.
Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book Page 12