“— what’s going on here—” said Dana.
“—for chrissakes!” Clara’s curse drew a shocked look from her twin head.
Tara asked for a moment to wash off the dust and ran into the bathroom. When she came back out, she was a lot cleaner. While they were gathering around, she made the image of the bloody corpse disappear. All that remained was the crossbow arrow sunk deep in the bed, which quivered in indignation.
Stifling a yawn, she explained: “Someone tried to kill me, and I thought it might be smart to make them think they’d succeeded. I was dozing off last night when it occurred to me that the killer might well try again. So I decided to sleep on the floor with a blanket. The castle helped with the trick, by hiding me under an illusion, and I forbade it to open the door. But the killer used a secret passage instead of the door. The opening in the wall was completely invisible. I had put my substitute image on the bed. Two hands emerged from the passageway, holding an armed crossbow. They aimed at the fake Tara and fired.”
Even though they knew she had survived, Tara’s friends were hanging on her every word.
“I made my ghost body writhe as if I were dying, produced some fake blood, and waited until the opening swung shut. Then I walked over to the wall and figured out how to open the passage, and I followed it. There’s a whole maze of corridors and rooms back there! With lots of cobwebs and dust. I followed the killer’s tracks, and the footprints led to . . .”
Like a skilled storyteller, she paused to heighten the suspense.
“So, where did they lead?” blurted Robin impatiently, his elf blood crying for vengeance.
“To Master Chem’s office!”
Seven exclamations burst out at once, as Tara’s friends and Lady Kalibris reacted with disbelief, fury, and astonishment.
“That’s impossible!” the two heads roared. “Chemnashaovirodaintrachivu couldn’t ever—”
“I didn’t say that it was Master Chem who tried to kill me,” Tara interrupted. “Just that the footprints in the dust led to his office, that’s all. Actually, when I went in, he was snoring on his bed of diamonds and didn’t move a scale. I went over and made some noise, but he didn’t stir. If somebody had gone out of the office, the stone dragon and unicorn would’ve sounded the alarm. So, I figured there must be a second passageway.”
“Our old dragon is going to be happy to find out that his security system is riddled with holes,” said Cal, chuckling.
“I knew what I was looking for, so it didn’t take long to find it.”
“What then?” asked Fabrice, who couldn’t stand the suspense.
“The passageway had a number of branches. Some led to the big Throne Room, others to the prisons, and still others to various rooms I’ve never seen. I didn’t explore all of them. But in spite of all my efforts, I wasn’t able to find the killer.”
“I will immediately tell the castle—” snapped Clara.
“— to seal off those passages,” ended Dana, furiously.
“It can’t do that,” said Tara. “Some areas aren’t enchanted, and the castle has no control over them. They’re especially hard to find because the castle projects its illusions everywhere. Not to mention that it has some secret passages of its own that it doesn’t necessarily want everyone to know about.”
“I’m going to put this castle on a diet, starting right now,” grumbled Clara.
“No more illusions for three days—” agreed Dana.
“—while we find and close off those passageways—” said Clara.
“— right away!” Dana concluded.
“That’s all very well, but what do we do now?” asked Sparrow. “Tara is supposed to be dead.”
“We mourn her,” suggested Fabrice. “We cry our eyes out, because we’ve lost our friend. If we don’t show sadness, the killer will know they’ve been fooled, and will try again.”
“Tara, you have to transform yourself,” said Cal, with a touch of irony, “into something that the killer is sure to notice.”
“An elf!” exclaimed Robin. “A warrior elf . . . in charge of an investigation!”
“That’s an excellent idea,” approved Dana.
“We could even say that she had been engaged to find the killer,” suggested Clara, picking up on the game.
“That wouldn’t surprise anyone,” continued Dana. “After all, the hunter-elves are OtherWorld’s detectives. Yes, an excellent idea. Go ahead, Tara. Transform yourself quickly before someone starts looking for me. I have a castle to run!”
Tara obeyed. Her and the living stone’s combined magic caused her to grow taller. Her hair turned white and grew into a complicated braid held in a springy metal clasp. Her eyes became crystalline, her eyebrows angled up to her temples, and her ears lengthened. Like all warrior elves, she wore a white, gold-embossed keltril breastplate over a fine white silk tunic. She carried a number of knives; a sword hung by her side, and a beautiful bow was slung across her back.
The living stone gave her an elf’s inhuman speed, and Tara was surprised to notice how heavy and clumsy the others now seemed. All her senses were heightened. She could see the smallest grain of dust, hear the slightest sound, and feel her entire body with an intensity that was almost painful. She wrinkled her pretty nose. Smells were very intense as well.
Fabrice grimaced. Tara looked stunning, and she and Cal now made a perfect couple.
Cal bowed to her.
“Wow! Great transformation job!” he said admiringly. “Er, while you’re at it, do you feel like giving me my old appearance back? Even Angelica fell for my look, and I’m sick and tired of it.”
Tara laughed. “You don’t mean Angelica—”
“Yes, she did,” said Sparrow, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “Cal did his ‘James Bond’ number. He told her he was the next high wizard she would be working with.”
Tara whistled. “Oh, she’s gonna be so disappointed!”
“No kidding,” said Cal with a laugh, who didn’t feel guilty in the least. “So, can you do something about my looks?”
“You already asked me that,” answered Tara. “I have no idea how to do it without maybe giving you five extra noses or putting green hair all over your body. Be patient. It’s got to wear off sometime.”
She smiled at him, but Cal didn’t exactly looked convinced.
“All right, since you like transformations, it’s Gallant’s turn now,” he said. “Not many elves have familiars, and none of them has a pegasus. You’d be recognized immediately.”
At that, Sheeba growled softly, and Sparrow informed them that her panther suggested that Gallant be turned into a white tiger. He already had claws, so it wouldn’t feel like that much of a change. The suggestion was adopted and in moments the magnificent stallion had become a giant cat. He didn’t much like walking, and asked Tara if he could have wings. But since there aren’t a lot of flying tigers in OtherWorld, she turned him down.
The friends refined their plan and split up. Fabrice, Barune, Sparrow, Sheeba, and Manitou began by casting Lamentatus spells on themselves. They were disheveled and in tears when they emerged from the suite to announce that their friend Tara had been killed. To complete the illusion, Tara put her macabre corpse back on the bed, and Lady Kalibris sealed the room.
For their part, Cal, Blondin, Robin, Tara, and Gallant went underground to try to find the tracks of whoever had fired the crossbow at her. Blondin sniffed about, while mentally complaining of lions’ poor sense of smell.
Thanks to her heightened elf senses, Tara’s progression into the tunnel was very different from her first time. She was now able to make out the unknown person’s movements, easily visualizing the least of his actions. He had leaned against the stone, maybe to draw the crossbow. He had kneeled down at one point, possibly having dropped something. Further on, he’d hesitated where two passages divided.
Tara was startled to realize that her blood was boiling with rage against the monstrous killer, and she had to control herself
to keep from screaming in fury.
“It isn’t easy, is it?” murmured Robin, well aware of his friend’s agitation.
“Man! Do you feel this way all the time? This urge to fight and smash everything when you get angry?”
“Not as much as full-blooded elves, but yes,” he said. “We’re a very turbulent people. Our elders have sort of loaned us out to other races for their armies and police forces. Otherwise we’d spend all our time fighting each other over nothing.”
“I get it now,” said Tara with a smile. “I didn’t realize how much you have to constantly control yourself. All right, you’re a better detective than I am. What do you make of these tracks?”
“With spellbinders, it’s hard to tell,” he said. “Going by the stride, I’d say it’s a man. The steps are long and powerful. And given the depth of the footprints, he’s pretty heavy. But he could well have transformed himself, so none of that means much.”
“Can you determine where he went?”
“No, I can’t. Do you see that cloud of glitter?”
Now that he mentioned it, Tara could see golden particles floating in the air.
“Your killer’s clever. He cast a Dislocus behind himself, a spell that confuses elf senses. We can only hope that he left enough footprints.”
It was a little like tracking Tom Thumb. The winding steps led to a door in the wall. They opened it and found themselves facing a wall of flame.
The footprints had indeed led to Master Chem’s office. Startled by their interruption, the dragon very nearly barbecued them.
Recognizing Cal, he stopped instantly.
“I’ll be darned!” Chem roared. “What are you doing here, Caliban? Robin? And who are you, Miss Elf?”
Tara smiled at him. “I see that my disguise is working, Master. Didn’t you recognize me?”
“Tara?” The dragon’s eyes were round with astonishment. “What’re you doing, looking like that?”
“Somebody tried to kill her again, Master Chem,” explained Robin. “Last night. So we thought a little mystification might be in order. The killer will be sure he succeeded.”
The dragon drew his enormous eyebrows together in a frown. “But how did you get to my office?”
Cal explained. When the dragon wizard learned there were unknown tunnels in the castle—where he’d been living for many hundreds of years, after all—he was amazed.
“Er, Master Chem, could you please change yourself back to normal size?” asked Tara, who was getting a crick in her neck from looking up at him.
“Oh, yes, of course.”
In the place of the imposing dragon appeared wizened old Chem, who muttered, “This changes everything!”
“What changes everything?” asked Tara innocently.
Master Chem gave her a sharp glance and continued: “I think hiring you, in your elf shape, is a very good idea. I’ll announce that the warrior elf Manludil T’aril has come to the castle to investigate not Tara’s killing, which we’d have no way of anticipating, but the murder committed by the vampyr. Then, when your death is officially announced, we’ll put you in charge of that investigation as well. Does that suit you? And in four days you’ll go back home to Earth, as agreed. Show me your accreditation card; I’m going to modify it.”
He passed his hand over Tara’s wrist, changing her name and picture.
“My name is Manludil T’aril, and I’m an investigator,” she read from her accredi-card. “That suits me fine. But I can’t sleep in my usual room, it would look strange. Where do elves live in the castle?”
“We have rooms in the guest wing and in the quarters reserved for Lancovit secret service agents,” Robin answered with a little smile. “But we elves usually prefer to sleep out in the park. We don’t like being shut in.”
“Well, I prefer a bed, if you don’t mind,” she announced firmly. “Sleeping in trees—no thanks. They’ve already tried to kill me, and I’m not going to make the job easier by falling out of a tree in my sleep and smashing my skull.”
Robin looked disappointed, but he didn’t argue.
Leaving the dragon to arrange Tara’s cover story, they left by the second secret passage. (Master Chem had looked shaken when he learned there wasn’t just one but two passages in his own office!)
“You were right,” whispered Cal once they were in the tunnel.
“About what?” asked Tara.
“Our national dragon really wants you to stay a little while longer on OtherWorld. Here you almost got killed again, but he didn’t immediately ship you back to Earth. Very odd.”
The other tunnels led to the high wizards’ quarters, then descended to the dungeons and eventually to the passage they’d taken when they discreetly entered the castle the last time. By then, the friends had run out of time, so they decided to resume their search in the coming days.
Everyone in Lancovit accepted their story, and Tara was impressed to learn how respected elves were in the kingdom. Whenever she asked questions she got prompt, deferential answers.
Tara’s new identity opened many doors for her, and she took advantage of that to make a complete tour of the castle. This included zones that had been off limits to her as a spellbinder, but which the king and queen had opened to the elf investigator.
She learned that the former royal chambers that the passages led to had been given to the high wizards when the castle was enlarged in the twenty-second century. All right, that limits the field of research a little, she thought. The killer had to be a high wizard living in one of those chambers who knew about the passages and could easily access them. So who? Lady Boudiou? No, the old lady seemed genuinely fond of her. Besides, Tara couldn’t quite imagine her running around drawing a crossbow. Lady Sirella? She hadn’t had much contact with the beautiful mermaid, so it was hard to tell. Master Den’maril? Elves were warriors, as she was now in a position to know. Could she have accidentally offended him? No. Elves preferred formal confrontations; he would have challenged her directly. It couldn’t be Master Chanfrein or Master Patin, since the most recent attack happened while they were away in the Swamps of Desolation. Master Sardoin, the spatial mathematics specialist who was Cal’s master, didn’t look brave enough to swat a fly. And what about Master Dragosh?
Tara had a lot of questions, but not a single answer yet.
In addition, she was becoming more and more concerned about Fafnir and the two high wizards. They hadn’t given any sign of life since their departure.
During the somewhat calm days that followed, Tara’s friends talked about recent events and congratulated themselves on the ruse they had devised. No one had tried to kill, strangle, broil, or skewer Tara in her persona as an investigating elf. They hadn’t made any progress in finding the killer, but at least they’d been left alone.
The mock corpse had been discreetly shipped to Earth, where Master Chem paid a quick visit to explain the situation to Isabella and Selena. Tara was afraid her grandmother would come haul her off by the scruff of the neck, but Isabella was apparently satisfied with Chem’s promise to send her granddaughter back soon.
On the fourth day, on the eve of her return to Earth, Tara, Robin, Gallant, Cal, and Blondin were snooping around the secret passage, where they had discovered several dusty, unused rooms. Tara hadn’t said anything about it, but she was now very worried about Fafnir’s continued absence.
They were struggling to control their sneezes when they suddenly heard an odd noise, something like a giant foghorn choking on a cat. They listened carefully, and Tara suddenly recognized the sound.
“It’s Fafnir!” she exclaimed. “She’s . . . singing!”
One of the passages led to a hallway close to the Transfer Portal Room. They ran to it and emerged to witness an incredible scene.
There was Fafnir, accompanied by Master Chanfrein and Master Patin, singing her lungs out.
For a moment they thought she was singing for joy. But the dwarf’s beautiful green eyes were filled with horror and her t
wo companions’ skins were turned completely purple! A cloud of black smoke was rising from the two wizards’ bodies and drifting inexorably toward the stupefied guards and the Cyclops. Fafnir roared:
After the battle of the canyonnns,
The dwarves and all their brave companionnns
Made the enemies bend their kneees
Say their prayers and shout their pleeeas
Submit to the valiant rulers of the gorrrge
The great clan of the Fireforrrge!
The black smoke seemed to be carefully keeping its distance from her. Suddenly, Fafnir started yelling in a voice hoarse with exhaustion: “Run away! As long as I’m singing it can’t completely possess me, but I can’t hold out much longer! I’ve been singing for the last five days!”
The moment she started talking, the black smoke drew closer, and Fafnir desperately began singing again:
Lovely Talnir, blacksmith fairrr
Had a lover dark of hairrr
His forge was new, his hammer truuue
The sparks that flew between the twooo
Inspired songs quite beautifulll
From their village of Tanderulll!
As if repulsed, the black smoke again moved away from her. Instead, fast as a striking cobra, it leapt at the retreating guards. Their skin immediately turned purple, and their eyes glassy. Seeing that, the spellbinders put up protection shields, but the smoke wafted through them as if they didn’t exist.
Tara was paralyzed with astonishment, but Robin leapt into action. With inhuman speed he dodged an approaching smoky tentacle, grabbed Cal and Tara by their arms, and dragged them off, running fast. “Quick, to the passageway! We’ve got to get out of here!”
“What about the others?” yelled Tara, now panicked. “Sparrow, my great-grandfather, Fab—”
“No time!” interrupted Robin, pulling her along.
They reached the passage just in time. With the door closed behind them, they were safely hidden. It became apparent that the Ravager was using Fafnir’s memories to invade the Living Castle, but since she didn’t know about the secret tunnels, they were out of danger for the time being.
Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book Page 28