But Tara had no choice. She was the heir to an empire, the hope of an entire nation. Plus, she was also a key to demonic power, the target of a killer, and the center of a tangle of plots and dangers. She would never be a normal girl living a normal childhood.
Unaware of all this, Tara was lost in thoughts of her parents. She would have to tell her mother that she had seen her father again without her. Tara knew Selena wouldn’t be angry. They’d had to act fast. But she regretted with all her heart that she hadn’t been able to bring her father’s back to her mother. Oddly enough, though she’d only known Selena for a few days, she missed her terribly. Isabella, too, even though she absolutely had to avoid her grandmother for the time being, so as not to find herself stuck on Earth forever.
In a remote corner of her consciousness, Tara worried about what Magister might be up to. Gallant mentally protested, telling her in his own way not to worry. If Magister bothered them, they would just ship him off to Demonic Limbo. The pegasus sent her an image of a frantic Magister dangling from his claws, surrounded by a horde of cackling demons. Tara couldn’t help but chuckle. Pleased that he’d made her laugh, Gallant landed next to her and gave her an affectionate shove with his head. Sparrow shot Tara a questioning look and was reassured when her friend responded with a bright smile.
Once back in their suite, Manitou moaned that he was dying of hunger and begged them to order something to eat. An ifrit brought food, and they savored such bizarre dishes as brrraaa ribs in slurp sauce, kalorna purée, and brill shoots, accompanied by Tzinpaf, chocolate cake with bizzz honey, and Soothsuckers.
Tara looked suspiciously at the heart of her caramel/banana/ pimento prophesicle. Its message was: “She will be here soon. There is no danger in her words, but the truth must be deserved.” As usual, not much to go on, she thought.
Sparrow gave the ifrit their message for the empress, stressing that it involved new information proving Caliban Dal Salan’s innocence. Then they waited.
By one o’clock in the morning, it was obvious that the empress wouldn’t be summoning them, and they went to bed.
But a very sleepy Cal practically had a heart attack when an ifrit appeared at the foot of his bed and yelped: “Wake up! A visitor is coming! Get up!”
He found himself in the living room in his pajamas before he quite understood what was happening. Roused by the messenger, the others came in as well, rubbing their eyes and feeling equally baffled.
Suddenly the door swung open without their authorization and in walked Xandiar, the captain of the guards.
“Oh no,” groaned Cal. “Not him!”
But Xandiar didn’t pay the little thief any attention—most likely since Tara’s magic was still working and Cal was as gorgeous as ever.
The guard captain first scrutinized the room, then waved in the slim, hooded figure behind him, and nervously slammed the door. He was red in the face and sweating heavily.
Seeing Xandiar so panicked, Tara immediately guessed who was under the hood. Her hunch was confirmed when it was pushed back to reveal the beautiful face of the empress. She had tied her lovely hair in a double braid that brushed the ground and wore a simple white robe cinched at the waist with a gold belt.
Despite his agitation, Xandiar snapped to attention and loudly declared: “Her Imperial Majesty Lisbeth’tyl—”
“That will do, Xandiar. They know who I am. Guard the door. If someone finds out I was here without an escort, the secret services will never let us hear the end of it.”
From the anxiety with which he was wringing his four hands, the poor captain seemed to agree with them. Being solely responsible for his sovereign’s safety was clearly too much for his nerves. He went to stand by the door, looking very unhappy.
The empress gracefully sat down and invited the friends to do the same. They obeyed, staring at her in astonishment.
She studied Cal for a moment and then nodded, as if she had just gotten the answer to an enigma. “Caliban Dal Salan, I presume?”
Gorgeous Cal bowed with unbearable grace. “At your service, Your Imperial Majesty.”
“A beautiful disguise. Very original.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Cal gave her a smile so brilliant, the empress blinked and couldn’t help but smile back. Then, with visible effort, she got a grip on herself. While carefully avoiding Cal’s eye so as not to be distracted, she asked in a clear voice: “What reward could I give to the killers of my uncle?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Robin saw Xandiar start. Fabrice gulped audibly.
This time, Sparrow jumped in.
“Your Majesty,” she said cautiously, “the choice is yours.”
“That is, to the extent that you’re also responsible for his death,” said Tara.
Manitou caught his breath, and horrible images of prison bars and dry bread began to flash before his eyes.
The empress didn’t react, but merely studied Tara carefully. You could practically hear the gears going around in her head. Finally, she spoke: “How did you know?”
Manitou started breathing again. The bars and the dry bread receded.
“A couple of clues put me on the trail,” answered Tara, whose heart was pounding. “In spite of my being attacked, you didn’t call me in, because at the same time the gnomes had come to ask for your help. For the third time in a month. That’s what was being whispered in the hallways. You sent hunter-elves to search Prince Bandiou’s palace, and they didn’t find anything. But courtiers were whispering the word ‘scandal.’ I think you’d already been suspicious of your uncle for some time. And when Glul Buglul introduced himself to us, he said that you’d insisted that he be Cal’s compensator. You knew that his fiancée was among the prisoners; he’d told you. You guessed that he would turn to Cal to try to find evidence against your uncle. And I’ll bet ten to one that you were the person who cast the Mentus Interruptus on Cal and Angelica to keep the Tellers from ‘reading’ them. And then got them thrown in jail. When Cal escaped, you prevented anyone from following him. In Lancovit, people didn’t even know he had disappeared, which made no sense. That’s when I finally understood that you were using us as detectives . . . or bloodhounds.”
Manitou and the others were stunned. They stared in turn at Tara and at the empress, who remained perfectly calm.
‘Your Majesty!” shouted Xandiar angrily. “Let me teach this impertinent girl manners. She is—”
“—quite correct,” the empress said. “Though I’m very surprised that such a young spellbinder could have seen through my strategy.”
“And this was the only solution you could come up with?” exclaimed Tara, angry at having her suspicions confirmed. “To convict an innocent person? To make us risk our lives?”
“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 wea
pon, 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 gi
fts. 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!”
Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book Page 25