Tara Duncan and the Spellbinders (24 page)

Tara could well imagine the boyfriend's surprise when the doddering old man suddenly showed his fangs. “The guy must've been scared to death, don't you think?”

“I don't know, ‘cause he fainted, like a lot of the other nonspells. Chem was furious at being attacked, and he decided to let the boyfriend keep his memory. So the guy distinctly remembered roughing up an elderly gentleman who suddenly turned into a dragon. As we were leaving, I saw an old lady trying to bring him ‘round. When he opened his eyes and saw the old lady slapping his cheeks, he must've figured she was the dragon in disguise, ‘cause he ran away screaming.”

By that point, Sparrow and Tara were limp with laughter.

At last, the day of the trip to Omois finally arrived. Bags were packed, and everything made ready. Angelica drew some sarcastic remarks from Cal, who claimed she'd packed enough clothes to outfit a family for a whole year. Tara miniaturized Gallant so he could stay with her during the transfer.

As they lined up at the Portal for the trip, the cyclops steward was freaking out, as usual.

“Come along, let's have some order here,” he barked. “We need discipline! Four at a time. One, two, three, four—go!” He ran behind a desk with a little smoked glass screen, and yelled, “Omois Imperial Palace!”

The people, their baggage, and the wizards' essential papers all vanished.

Tara again felt that vague nausea she felt during her first transfer. When she looked around she blinked, dazzled.

The Imperial Palace's arrival hall was at least ten times bigger than Lancovit's. Gleaming statues of people wearing loincloths or kimonos sewn with precious stones stood in the four corners of the room. The tapestries that allowed the transfers were so bright, they looked as if they had been woven only the night before. Gold—or a substance that looked very much like it—glittered on every wall.

“Wow, do you see that stuff?” blurted Cal, his future licensed thief's fingers itching.

“Kinda hard to miss,” said Sparrow sarcastically. “It's everywhere!”

But at that point Cal noticed the reception committee and decided not to touch anything—or even look. A hundred four-armed guards had two hundred sharp spears pointed right at the spellbinders' belly buttons.

“What . . . what's going on?” squeaked Sparrow.

“We're in Tingapore, all right,” said Robin, looking around. “I recognize the Palace Portal Hall. Those are the Imperial guards. They're a little paranoid, so don't make any sudden moves.”

Behind a desk like the one at Lancovit stood a young woman who was stunningly beautiful, once you got used to her three sets of arms. Very useful when carrying packages, Tara thought to herself, but probably a drag when doing your nails. The young woman bowed graciously, ordered the guards to stand aside, and greeted them:

“Welcome to Tingapore. My name is Kali and I am the Palace administrator. Please follow our hospitality delegate, who will show you to your rooms. I hope you enjoy your stay with us.”

A teenager with a crown of shiny black hair stood next to her. Bowing, he politely introduced himself: “My name is Damien. Be so kind as to follow me.”

The Palace's decor was sumptuous, magnificent, and showy. Walls of green marble whose dark veins flowed like rivers gave way to walls of marble yellow encrusted with luminous mother of pearl. Bridges soared over interior gardens. The empress was fond of animals, and many of them roamed the Palace freely. These included vrrirs, large six-legged white and gold felines that lived in a world of enchanted illusion. Instead of the Palace's chairs and beds, they saw fallen trees and comfortable stones. And when the courtiers stroked them, they felt only the caress of the wind. They were magnificent prisoners, blind to reality.

Precious carpets covered the floors, golden statues stood guard, the hallways went on for miles, and banks of windows admitted bright summer sunshine.

The Omois spellbinders wore robes cut from a kind of animated purple and gold fabric that changed pattern with their moods. The bright colors sharply contrasted with the Lancovians' sober blues and silvers.

The two girls were fascinated, but Robin and Cal traded snarky comments that included words like “peacocks,” “show-offs,” and “bling.” But they dropped their criticism when they reached their rooms. In Omois, it wasn't the Palace that was alive, but the doors. Damien stood in front of the first one, and an enormous eye blinked open.

“Yes?” said a mouth that appeared under the eye along with an ear.

“Damien, apprentice spellbinder to High Wizard Lady Auxia. I am escorting these guests. Open the door, please.”

The eye blinked, registering the young spellbinders' faces, and disappeared. An arm shot out where the ear had been and opened the door to a magnificent suite of rooms.

The mouth reappeared, and spoke: “You may enter. Welcome, guests of Their Imperial Majesties. Here are your rooms.”

They were
private
rooms, the kind you give honored visitors.

Each spellbinder had a suite consisting of a bedroom, a living room with a work table, a couch, and several chairs, and a bathroom whose tub was practically the size of a swimming pool. Comfy baskets with cushions had been set out for the familiars, and Blondin plopped into one with an audible sigh. In one corner a huge crystal panel, a sort of flat-screen TV, was showing a war between heavily armed dwarves and elves, who were shooting their arrows so fast, they were a blur. Everything was incredibly luxurious.

Sparrow, Cal, and Robin happily took possession of their rooms, and the boys tested the mattresses by bouncing on them. Tara, who was worried about her upcoming exorcism, hardly budged.

Damien informed them that they could visit each other until lights out, which was half past midnight for guests, except in the event of a banquet or other special occasion. An ifrit, a flying djinn in the empress's service, would come to take them to the dining room. Because the Palace was so big, it was easy to get lost. Familiars were not allowed to wander in the Palace alone; they had to stay with their companions.

The high wizards went into a meeting as soon as they arrived, so their apprentices had a couple of free hours to get settled. Closing doors was simple, Damien explained. You simply said your name, and each door recognized you, the same way they let you in. The spellbinders' accredi-cards had been programmed when they arrived. Some areas, of course, were forbidden.

Damien added that he hoped that they would enjoy their stay in Tingapore and went off to greet other guests.

When they had all been recognized by the various doors, the young people gathered in Tara's room.

“So, what do you think?” asked Cal.

“I think it's fantastic!” said Sparrow enthusiastically. “I've never had such a big room before!”

“We could have sea battles in the bathtub, it's so big,” said Tara with a grin. “But don't you think it's a bit much?”

“Absolutely,” said Cal loyally. “Our Royal Castle is a lot less pretentious than this one.”

“Who heads their High Council?” asked Tara. “A dragon, like Master Chem?”

“No,” said Robin, who seemed well informed. “Omoisians don't like the other races much. The High Council is chaired by High Wizard Lady Auxia, a cousin of Empress Lisbeth and Emperor Sandor.”

There was a knock on the door, and Tara cried, “Come in!”

The suitcases glided in, and the spellbinders hurried to their rooms to hang up their things.

Tara sighed. Reluctant to use her magic, she began putting her clothes away. Without really shaping the thought, it occurred to her that it would be a lot faster if her power cooperated. At that, her white forelock crackled and a tornado of clothes burst from the suitcases. In response to her unformulated thought, they rushed to put themselves away on the hangars and in the dresser drawers as Tara gaped, slack-jawed.

The last dresses were hanging themselves up when Tara's magic malfunctioned. It happened just as Sparrow came into the room, and she found herself buried in clothes. The ones that had already been put away shot out onto the bed, the furniture, and into the bathroom. A number of socks dangled from the chandelier, completely out of reach. Tara's sneakers landed on top of the dresser.

Sparrow fought free of the clothes wrapped around her head, then helped an embarrassed Tara put them away. She even levitated to retrieve the socks from the chandelier and the sneakers atop the dresser.

“I don't get it!” said Tara in annoyance. “I didn't activate my magic!”

“I know the feeling,” said Sparrow sympathetically. “I've had that same kind of frustration.”

Tara's eyes widened. “You mean that you too—”

“No, no!” interrupted Sparrow. “My gift has never been as powerful as yours. I meant my stuttering problem. Sometimes just when I thought I'd whipped it, it came back worse than ever. But this time it's gone for good. I'm sure you'll be able control your gift is well.”

“I dunno,” said Tara as her shoulders slumped. “There are times when I think I was a lot happier before I was a spellbinder. I had two good friends, Fabrice and Betty, and I went to a normal school with normal kids. This stupid magic has caused me nothing but problems, and I
hate
what's happening to me. I have furious and violent feelings sometimes—deadly, even.”

“You're exaggerating,” said Sparrow firmly.

“What?”

“You're always complaining. Don't you realize that Angelica would give all her fancy duds to have a quarter of your gift? That without magic, Gallant would never have chosen you? That you have good friends here too—not just me and Cal, but also Robin, who really likes you? Yet here you are, whining that three of your lousy socks won't obey you. I think you're very unfair!”

Having shy little Sparrow lecture her left Tara speechless. Then she smiled ruefully.

“About that sock, I can't seem to find its mate. And you're probably right, but—”

“What do you mean, ‘probably'? I
am
right. Period. And you know it as well as I do. So quit whimpering, and let's instead figure out how to spy on Master Dragosh, so we can find out what he did with Fabrice.”

“Not Master Dragosh. Master Chem.”

Sparrow almost dropped the dress she was hanging up.

“
What?
Master Chem? You suspect him of being a Bloodgrave?”

“No,” said Tara with a smile. “I suspect Master Chem of using my healing situation to set a trap for whoever kidnapped Fabrice!”

“Who's setting a trap?” asked Cal, who had just come in.

The two girls nodded meaningfully toward Robin, who was right behind him, and Cal changed the subject.

“By the way, do you know when we're going into Tingapore? I'm anxious to see the town.”

“First, the high wizards are going to deal with Tara's situation” said Robin, who knew the schedule for their stay. “If all goes well, she'll be cured tomorrow morning. Lady Auxia suggested that we then visit the empress's summer palace and the market bazaar, then come back here. The Omoisians have also arranged a visit to their amusement park. Apparently they cast an anti-vomit spell before you go on Death Mountain or the Endless Tunnel.”

The two boys' eyes shone with enthusiasm.

“Mmmm, if you don't mind, Sparrow and I will wait and see what shape you're in when you come back before we go,” said Tara.

Though she didn't show it, Tara was feeling more and more worried. What if the wizards couldn't cure her? Worse, did she really
want
to be cured? She sometimes marveled at the strength of her power, and sometimes she feared it.

Robin knew Tingapore very well, because his father had been stationed at the Lancovian embassy in Omois. He was a pleasant boy, cheerful and straightforward, and got along with Cal very well. He often had them in stitches with his descriptions of the Omoisian court, whose etiquette was very strict.

When you met the empress and the emperor at an audience, he said, you were supposed to bow three times, cross the quarter-mile across the throne room in a dignified way, and only speak when spoken to. Moreover, you could only answer, “Yes, Your Imperial Majesty,” or “No, Your Imperial Majesty.”

“So what do you say if they ask you how old you are?” wondered Cal. “Anyway, Master Chemnashaovirodaintrachivu isn't just a spellbinder, he's one of the high wizards on the OtherWorld High Council. He shouldn't have to bow to anybody.”

“That may be, but it doesn't excuse him from court etiquette,” said Robin. “In fact, it applies to him in spades.”

Then he very casually asked, “Speaking of high wizards, why are you all watching Master Dragosh so closely?”

His question was met with complete silence.

Then Cal asked cautiously, “What makes you think we are?”

“Oh, nothing special—except that your familiars are constantly on his heels, that you watch him as if he'd swallowed the canary, the cat, and the cage, and that he dislikes Tara to a degree remarkable for a more or less normal master.”

“And what exactly are
you
up to every night, prowling the Castle hallways?” Cal shot back

Robin gave a tight smile.

“Ah, I didn't realize you'd noticed. I've a small problem. I suffer from claustrophobia.”

“What's that?”

“It's a fear of being in tight spaces. So when I start to feel the walls closing in on me, I go sleep in the forest. I have a special authorization that allows me to go out without triggering the alarms.”

“In the forest, at night?” asked Sparrow with a shiver. “Aren't you afraid?”

“No, not at all. To me, the forest is a friend.”

The three friends looked at each other in perplexity. Should they share their suspicions with Robin? Together, they turned to Tara.

She took a deep breath and spoke: “We're watching Dragosh because he was outside the dormitory door just before Fabrice disappeared.”