Tara Duncan and the Spellbinders (12 page)

“Bon appétit, my friends,” Lady Kalibris said with a smile—two smiles, actually.

She recited a spell, and a slice of meat floated obediently onto her plate, where her silverware began cutting it up.

Cal had already piled three slices on his plate and was eating as fast as he could. As soon as a dish came within reach, he grabbed a couple of helpings of everything (except vegetables). Tara and Fabrice laughed to see their friend stuffing himself as if he hadn't eaten for days.

Tara battled with her cutlery, which insisted on feeding her like a baby. She was finally able to seize the fork and eat on her own, though the utensil quivered with indignation in her hand.

She asked Fabrice to tell her how he got to OtherWorld, and he was happy to oblige. He, too, had been surprised by Lady One-Too-Many, but not by the Cyclops steward, whom his father had told him about. And he didn't like the chimera. All told, Fabrice was enchanted by magic and was eager to start working with the wizard he would be assisting, Master Chanfrein.

Then it was Cal's turn. He said he was the youngest of five children who were all spellbinders, like their parents. And he was in no hurry at all to start his service with Master Sardoin.

“I don't get it,” he complained. “After all, my mother is the best of the licensed thieves, and I'm already a very good thief myself. So why should I have to work for a high wizard?”

Tara couldn't believe her ears. “You're a
what
?”

“I'm a thief. Well, I will be when I'm a little older.”

“What do you mean by ‘thief '?” asked a surprised Fabrice.

“Er, someone who steals things.”

“I know what a thief is,” snapped Fabrice. “But on our planet we don't usually boast about it. It's not a very admirable profession. On Earth, people who steal go to jail!”

“Oh, you mean
that
kind of thief!” exclaimed Cal. “No, no! We're one of the robber clans. We work for the Lancovit government.”

Now Tara was completely lost. “What would the government want with a bunch of thieves?”

“Ah, but not just any thieves! We're
licensed
thieves. We only carry out very specific missions. Suppose a wizard comes up with a very dangerous formula, and a kingdom or empire decides that the formula will help it conquer its neighbors.”

“All right, so what?”

“The Lancovit government would call on my family to steal the formula. We then give it to the other countries. That way everybody has it, and balance is restored.”

“Okay, I get it,” said Fabrice. “And your mother is a licensed thief, a sort of female James Bond. Is that it?”

“James Bond 007—your movie spy? No, he isn't nearly good enough. My mother could steal his socks and his underwear while they were dancing and he wouldn't realize it until he went to bed!”

Though he admired 007, Fabrice decided to let that one pass.

“But why do you say that you're also a thief?”

“I will be one,” Cal answered proudly, “when I finish my training.”

“Your training?” Fabrice was impressed now. “What kind of training?”

“Want a demonstration?”

“If you don't mind, sure!” he said, sounding skeptical.

“I don't mind at all,” said Cal with a shrug. “After all, you'll be my victim.”

Just then, Cal's fox Blondin, who had been quietly eating at the other end of the room, decided to cut loose. He jumped up on one of the tables, provoking shrieks from the women and curses from the men.

Fabrice turned back to Cal and said, “Okay, go ahead.”

“I already did,” he said calmly.

Under his friends' astonished eyes, Cal then proceeded to pull out three handkerchiefs embroidered with the Besois-Giron monogram, several sticks of chewing gum (one looked pretty old), a pink hair ribbon, a gold barrette, a stub of a pencil, an eraser, two coins, and a small brown notebook.

“I'm guessing that the barrette and the pink hair ribbon aren't yours,” he said sarcastically.

“Wow!” exclaimed Fabrice. “No, they're Tara's.”

“The old chewing gum isn't mine!” she protested, patting her pockets. “As for the rest . . . that was incredible! I didn't feel a thing!”

“Neither did I!”

Cal wiggled his long, slim fingers.

“It's an exercise we learn very young. You distract people's attention somehow—I used Blondin, but it can be anything—then grab whatever you're after. It's easy!”

Impressed by Cal's technique, Tara and Fabrice peppered him with questions for the rest of the lunch, eager to learn more about the life of a licensed thief's son. They were skeptical about half of his supposed adventures—they didn't for a minute believe his battle with the winged adder, his stealing the forbidden scroll from maneating slugs, and other memorable confrontations—but most of the stories were plausible, and they began to look at the young thief with real admiration.

From time to time, Tara could feel Angelica's icy stare on her. The tall girl had pointed her out when she entered the dining hall and had been furiously whispering to a redheaded girl next to her.

After stuffing themselves with cakes and candies, the three friends left the hall. Tara was at a loss for what to do next, but Cal quickly clued her in.

“Whatever you do, don't knock yourself out,” he said. “If Master Chem says you're on vacation, then you're on vacation! If anyone wants to see you, your accredi-card will let you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“The high wizards communicate with us through the cards. They might call and tell us where to meet them, for example. If nothing is going on and a wizard hasn't given us any instructions, that means they don't need us for now. Personally, I just like to laze around as much as I can, or train. Want to see the Castle grounds? They're great. Fabrice, are you on duty this afternoon?

“No, I'm free,” he said with a smile. “I don't start with Master Chanfrein until tomorrow.”

“Great! Let's go, then. You'll see, the grounds are wonderful.”

Tara had to admit that Cal was right. Magic had colored the trees' branches and foliage, so red trunks and blue and yellow canopies stood out against pink and black flowers visited by birds of so many colors they looked like flying rainbows.

While chatting with her new friends, Tara gazed around at the strange flora and fauna. She suddenly saw a little red mouse with two tails chased by an orange cat with big green ears. At least that's not so different from Earth, she thought; cats chase mice here too. But then, just when the mouse seemed trapped, it gave an odd little twitch, and vanished. An instant later, the cat vanished as well. Then the mouse reappeared a few feet farther on—right in front of the cat, which had anticipated the move and reappeared in front of it. Furious, the little mouse nipped the cat's nose and ran into a hole under a tree. The frustrated cat climbed up to a branch to watch the hole.

Another of OtherWorld's peculiarities, Tara sighed. Even the animals here use magic. Perfect. I'm not about to go outside alone, she decided.

Cal took them on a walk through some of the quiet, dense forest surrounding the Castle. But the grounds were so extensive that they could see only part of them.

OtherWorld had seven seasons, he explained, and a year lasted fourteen months. Magic tended to change the climate very violently, and you never knew if a day would bring 100 degrees in the shade, or ten feet of snow. As a result, OtherWorld's plants and animals were highly adaptable. Animals could grow fur in a single night, or change color from brown, green, blue, or red to pure white after a snowstorm. And the snow itself wasn't always white. In the mountains of Hymlia it had a reddish tint because of the presence of magic iron, a mineral mined by the dwarves. So in snowy weather the animals there ran the gamut from carmine to crimson.

None of the high wizards summoned the spellbinders. Cal was delighted to lounge around at his ease, and Tara and Fabrice took in the marvels of life on OtherWorld.

For his part, Fabrice tried out the riddles he'd been creating.

“My first is a lonely number, my second is its neighbor, my third is a collection of males, my last is the fifth letter of the alphabet. The answer is someone who runs the place.”

“That's clever, but I've got it,” said Cal. “
One + two + men + E
=
one too many
= One-Too-Many, our two-headed Lady Kalibris.”

“Okay, try this one,” said Fabrice. “My first is a kind of grain used to make flour, my second is a negative reply, my third is short for mister, and my fourth is who we are. The answer is the word for an animal found on Earth.”

“I know!” Tara exclaimed. “
Rye
is a kind of grain, a negative reply is
no
,
sir
is short for mister, and who we are is
us
.
Rye + no + sir + us
= rhinoceros!”

“Hey, that's not fair!” protested Cal. “I don't know all the animals on your planet.”

“I see I'm dealing with connoisseurs,” said Fabrice with a grin. “Just you wait; I'll come up with something more complicated!”

They spent the afternoon walking and talking until dinner, which was as lavish as lunch.

When Tara got back to her room after saying goodnight to the two boys, she noticed that the wall to the Unicorn dormitory was open. Apparently Angelica still hadn't gotten a room of her own, and the girls were gathered around the bed from which she presided.

As Tara passed, the tall girl looked up and glowered at her.

Teeth brushed, Tara dove under her cozy duvet to read. First she memorized Chem's crystal number, then she leafed through the etiquette book. She learned that she wasn't allowed to dig holes in the Castle (which didn't want to look like Swiss cheese) or eat the walls (no chance of that; she was probably allergic to Maliciosa, the Castle's magical building material). Levitation was allowed except in the Throne Room. Weapons, magical or not, were forbidden within the Castle walls. This included dwarf war hammers, enchanted elf bows, and unicorn horns, which were to be left in a basket at the entrance to the Throne Room. (Unicorns could unscrew their horns? Who knew!) Creatures with non-retractable claws and fangs were asked not to make the slightest aggressive move toward their Majesties, as the Castle guards were kind of jumpy. Creatures with tentacles were to keep several yards away from the sovereigns, since most tentacles caused terrible rashes. Gnomes were not to tunnel up into the Throne Room, but were to arrive by the surface like everybody else. Imps were not allowed to play tricks ever since one accidentally changed the current king's ancestor into a pig. That king lived to a ripe old age, but no one was able to change him back, which is why one Castle portrait shows a fat, shaggy boar wearing a crown.

Running in the hallways was discouraged—it tickled the Castle—except in case of emergency, such as war, invasion, or surprise attack, magical or otherwise. This last possibility gave Tara cause for concern.

Luckily the book wasn't very thick and every line that Tara read magically imprinted itself on her mind. What a practical gizmo! She thought with annoyance about Isabella, who'd made her struggle with her grammar and math books. She was able to finish before the ten o'clock bell, when she turned out the light. The room changed the landscape around her bed to a calm, starry night with a gentle breeze, and it slowly rocked her to sleep.

Her last thought was for Angelica and her little entourage.

“I hope she snores and keeps them awake all night!”

T
ara had barely started her breakfast with Cal and Fabrice when her accredi-card started buzzing and vibrating.

“Good morning, Tara,” came a voice from the photo of Master Chem that had appeared over hers.

“Er, good morning, Master,” answered Tara, who found it odd to be talking to her wrist.

“Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, I did. How about you?”

“Very well, thank you. As soon as you finish your breakfast, go to your room, put on the ceremonial robe you'll find there, and meet me outside the Throne Room.”

“M-me?” stammered Tara anxiously. “Why?”

Seeing the wizard's stern look, she didn't dare protest. “Okay, Master Chem.”

“Very well. I'll see you soon.”

“Did you hear?” she asked the two boys with a sigh. “I have to finish breakfast and then go put on some sort of fancy robe to be presented to the king and queen. But I don't want to be presented to anybody.”

“Hey, it's supposed to be a great honor; you should be flattered,” said Cal, amused by his friend's discomfiture. “And don't mess up. High wizards hate it when people are late, and I won't even mention Grand Chamberlain Skali. He's a real terror.”

With that kind of motivation, it took Tara mere minutes to finish breakfast, slip on the blue and silver robe she found on her bed, and race down to the Throne Room.

There, she was able to marvel at the finest example of Lancovit architecture. Because of the sometimes imposing anatomy of the kingdom's subjects, a gently sloping ramp led from the main court-yard to the Throne Room instead of a stairway. The room's white and gold walls rose to a silver-trimmed blue ceiling with such airiness that it was hard to believe they were supporting tons and tons of stone. The Living Castle was discreet here, letting the room's fantastically carved walls dazzle its visitors, without adding illusory landscapes.

The dwarf artisans and architects had outdone themselves, and shimmering banners representing the peoples ruled by Lancovit further enhanced the magnificence of the setting.

The Count of Peridor's kingfisher, the Duke of Drator's wolf, and the Count of Sylvain's crow faced the golden lions of Prince Marc Steel-Hand, the noble descendant of Ronveau Iron-Hand (who had grafted on a replacement for the hand he lost in the Starlings War), the Count of T'al's squirrel, and Lancovit's moon and unicorn emblem.