Tara Duncan and the Forbidden Book (27 page)

The dragon stretched its huge, scaly body with pleasure, then answered: “Not we—you. You have to ask the Limbo Judge for justice. Go sit on the throne, where the demon was.”

Cal looked at the chair apprehensively. It exuded a viscous, blackish ooze, and its monstrous carved faces all seemed to be staring at him.

“Mom is going to scream bloody murder when she sees my clothes!” he muttered with a grimace of disgust and cautiously sat down.

The brazen voice rang out, filling the entire hall: “I'm listening, Caliban Dal Salan. Are you asking for my judgment?”

Sparrow had taken the taludi from the saddlebag, and it was now recording the whole scene.

“Yes, I am,” Cal answered. “I've been unjustly accused of the murder of—”

“Brandis T'al Miga Ab Chantu. Yes, I know. And you want me to summon the boy's spirit so he can judge you again. And what will you do, Caliban Dal Salan, if he reiterates his judgment?”

“He won't,” said Cal calmly. “The person responsible for Brandis's death is whoever tried to kill Tara.”

“Ah, but it was Angelica Brandaud's cry of indignation, caused by your searching under her robe, that provoked the incident.”

“Hey, I wasn't searching under her robe,” he objected. “I was searching in her pocket. She had just sent a blood fly to sting Tara, to make her cause a catastrophe.”

“And because your friends didn't believe you, you wanted to prove to them that you were right. Instead of waiting for the end of the two boys' demonstration, you immediately took action. Which led to the death of Brandis T'al Miga Ab Chantu . . . and would have sent your world into an infinite void if you hadn't found the power to close the vortex!”

Cal had gone deathly pale. The Limbo Judge was right. He'd only been thinking about himself—and his friends' admiration if he was able to prove Angelica's guilt.

He bowed his head.

“You're right,” he admitted. “It was wrong of me to be so reckless.”

“And so?” asked the Judge, who wasn't about to let him off the hook.

“It's my fault that Brandis is dead,” he said with a sigh.

“Conclusion?” continued the Judge relentlessly.

“I'm going to turn myself in to the empress and go back to prison.”

Tara and her friends were too stunned to react. But before they could protest, the judge started making an odd noise. It took Cal a moment to realize that the stone mass was . . . laughing. A full-throated, ironic laugh.

“Mmmm, you're a refreshing change from all those lying demons,” chuckled the Judge. “You admit your guilt, and sincerely too! That's good. But I'm going to lift a weight off your shoulders. Your desire to get back at Angelica triggered the incident, but it should have been easy for the high wizards to close the vortex. So, the person who killed Brandis T'al Miga Ab Chantu while trying to kill your friend is indeed the culprit. I'm going to call the boy's spirit so you can ask for his forgiveness. Let this be a lesson to you. Every action has a reaction. You have to think before you act.”

Still in shock, Cal was hanging on the judge's every word when Brandis's spirit materialized.

“Good,” said the Judge. “I'll explain the situation to the victim. We'll see what he has to say about it.”

The boy's ghost seemed more solid than it had at the Omois court. The exchange between Brandis and the Judge wasn't perceptible, but Cal and his friends could feel the boy's surprise. He turned to Cal and said: “So, you acted in that stupid way to protect your friend.”

“Well, not exactly, but—”

“It's all right,” the boy interrupted. “I probably would've done the same thing.”

This was the second time that day that the young thief was taken by surprise. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, curious to hear what the ghost had to say. He wasn't disappointed.

“Just the same,” Brandis continued firmly, “even if you aren't responsible for my death, you did give the real killer the chance to act. So I'm not going to sentence you to prison, but to help my parents when they're old and I'm not there to be with them. That's my sentence. I'm not asking you for money or blood. Just time. Does that strike you as fair?”

Cal had tears in his eyes. He hadn't thought of the pain of the parents whose child had died so young. He hadn't imagined their lonely old age.

“I swear it,” he said solemnly. “I'll tell them about your wish, Brandis. You have my blood oath.”

“That's not necessary. Your word is enough. On the other hand, I'd like to ask for a personal favor.”

“Of course. What?”

“When you find the person who caused my death,” snarled the ghost, suddenly angry, “make them pay for what they did to me. Make them really pay.”

“You have my word on that too,” said Cal with a fierce smile.

“Then I can leave in peace. Farewell.”

And the colored figure disappeared.

“Well, that takes care of that,” said the Judge. “Were you able to record everything, Princess?”

Sparrow started, unaccustomed to having people use her royal title.

“Yes, the taludi got it all. We just have to bring it to the empress.”

Just then, a moan surprised them. The Demon King was coming to. His tentacles were twitching, and he was trying to open his dozens of eyes.

Master Chem acted promptly. Using his tail, he slammed the demon's weak point at the base of his tongue and sent him back to nightmare land. Then he said, “If we're finished here, I'll create a portal and we can leave.”

With a claw, Chem delicately took The Forbidden Book from the saddlebag and was about to pick up the taludi when they all suddenly jumped. A second ghost had appeared before them. Panicked, Cal was afraid that Brandis wanted to change his judgment, but this ghost was taller than the boy and much older.

It was staring at them with equal astonishment.

Incredulous, Tara recognized its deep blue eyes, so like her own, and the mass of blond hair punctuated with the imperial white forelock. She knew its face for having gazed at it thousands of times in old photographs.

“Dad?” she exclaimed.

“Who . . . who are you?” asked the ghost, frowning.

“Dad! It's me, Tara!”

“Tara'tylanhnem? That's impossible! My daughter is only two years old.”

“Dad, it is me. Look at me! Oh, Dad, I can't believe it! Is it really you?”

The ghost looked her over carefully, then smiled broadly.

“Tara! My baby!”

He rushed to take his daughter in his arms . . . and went right through her.

“Oh,” he said, a note of bottomless sorrow in his voice. “I forgot that I can't touch you.”

Tara's mind was in a whirl. It's my father, my father! It was almost physically painful not to be able to run into his arms. A pain they shared, because her father stammered: “My baby, I'm so sorry!”

Tara nodded and glanced at her friends, who were caught between laughter and surprise.

“Er, Dad?”

“What, baby?”

“I'm twelve years old, almost thirteen, so it would be nice if you could avoid the ‘my baby.' Please?”

Danviou smiled at his daughter tenderly. “I'm sorry, darling. When I left, you were barely two, so it's something I'll have to get used to. No more ‘baby,' I promise. Is ‘my darling' okay?”

“That's perfect, Dad. I'm so happy to be able to see and talk to you! I've missed you so much—you and Mom. And to find both of you in such a short time, I can hardly believe it.”

Danviou frowned. “Find us? Weren't you with your mother?”

“She was kidnapped, Dad, by the same monster who killed you. He calls himself Magister, and he's revived a clan that's taken the name Bloodgraves. They struck a deal with the demons and infected the apprentice spellbinders with demonic magic. Then Magister wanted to kidnap me because, thanks to you, I have Demiderus blood in my veins, so I can approach the demonic objects that the dragons hid after their war with the demons. My friends and I managed to defeat him and free Mom at the same time. She'd been his prisoner for ten years! That's about it. Oh, and my familiar is a pegasus. I also have a living stone who helps me when I need power. But she's become a friend because she has a conscience. We came here to prove Cal was innocent. He'd been accused of killing Brandis in the vortex, but he isn't responsible. The guilty one is the same person who's tried to get rid of me several times. I'm not sure I've been very clear. Did you understand all that?”

The ghost looked as stunned as if a brick wall had just crashed down on his head.

“To be honest, no. Someone's trying to kill you? And you have a familiar? But I made your grandmother swear that you would never be a wizard, to save you from this life on OtherWorld. Speaking of which . . . where are we?”

He looked around at the monstrous throne and the Judgment Hall.

“This looks like the high wizards' description of Demonic Limbo.”

Master Chem stepped up, getting the ghost's attention. “I'm sorry to interrupt this touching reunion, but we are, in fact, in Limbo. And now would be the perfect time to leave.”

The ghost's eyes narrowed, and he stiffened (well, to the extent that a ghost can stiffen).

“Master Dragon Chemnashaovirodaintrachivu? Are you responsible for all this?”

The dragon smiled coldly. He and Danviou clearly didn't like each other. “Actually, I'm not. Your daughter is perfectly capable of getting herself into worse trouble all by herself.”

Suddenly the Limbo Judge spoke, startling everyone: “Can you guess why I had your father come here, Tara? I read in your mind that you're worried about your grandmother. I judge, of course, but my function is also to solve the problems of those who appear before me—if I can, that is. And this problem isn't very complicated. It's your move, young spellbinder.”

Tara understood. She turned to her father.

“I try not to practice magic, but magic doesn't seem to agree. So, I wind up using it all the time. And the more I do, the closer I get to becoming a wizard. And if I become a wizard, it'll kill Grandma, because of your blood oath. Do you understand?”

“I didn't imagine for a moment that magic would take over your life, darling. I'm very sorry. I was trying to protect you from OtherWorld.”

“Well, it's more like OtherWorld that needs to be protected from Tara,” grumbled the dragon. “She sweeps across the planet like a natural disaster. Anyway, we really have to leave now. Tell us quickly what Isabella has to do so you can free her from the oath?”

“You have to bring her here,” said the ghost. “In front of me. And I'll release her.”

“Here? In Limbo?” Tara was alarmed. “Are you kidding?”

“The Judge is the only one who can bring the dead back more than once,” Chem answered for Danviou. “But coming back here with Isabella is out of the question. It's even out of the question for us to come back at all. I think it's time for you to say goodbye. We won't be able to invoke your father's spirit a second time without the help of the statue, Tara. I'm very sorry.”

If fact, Chem didn't look sorry at all. Tara shot him a sharp glance, noticing a hint of satisfaction that the dragon was unable to hide. He didn't want her talking with her father. But why?

Cal spoke up: “Er, I hate to bother you, but I can think of an approach that doesn't involve risking our lives to come back to Limbo. I already died once this week and I'd like to not repeat the experience for the next hundred years or so.”

The ghost gave him a look of surprise. “And you are?”

“Caliban Dal Salan, the son of Aliana Dal Salan.”

“The master thief? Yes, I know her. My sister cursed her up and down the block when she managed to swipe the Sailibo parchments from us. What's your plan?”

“We just steal the statue!”

The ghost gave a quizzical glance at the gigantic statue of the Judge.

“Are you serious?”

“Completely! I'm not saying I could manage it all by myself. And Master Chem has to save his energy to get us back to Lancovit. But Tara's wicked powerful when she puts her mind to it. I'm sure she has enough magic to shrink that big chunk of masonry. Once it's shrunk, I'll slip it into my pocket and away we go!”

“I could even follow you without losing the link,” said Danviou. “An excellent idea, young thief—worthy of your famous mother! Go ahead Tara, give it a try.”

Tara sighed. She knew it would be up to her, sooner or later. And good grief, how big that thing was!

She raised her arms, mentally alerting the living stone.
I'm going to need your help to shrink that statue. Not just in size but also in weight. Also, the less I use my own magic, the less I risk hurting my grandma. Okay?

Your father you found? Your family you completed? It's for your grandmother help? My magic you take!

Aloud, Tara said, “By Miniaturus, shrink that statue judicious, to make our transfer expeditious.”

When the Limbo Judge felt the spell hitting him, he shouted loudly.

Alerted, the demons outside the hall sprang into action. Hoofs, feet, horns, and . . . other things could be heard pounding on the ground.

“Hurry up and keep shrinking the statue,” said Chem. “I'll cast a spell to protect the hall. Everybody else, deal with any demons who manage to get through the barrier. And be careful; the ones who break through will be the most powerful.”

Fafnir was grumbling that she couldn't do much without her faithful axe, so Robin promptly conjured one for her.

“Hmpf!” snorted the dwarf. “More of your stupid magic! And what if you faint or die? Your magic stops working and I'm without an axe.”

Robin shrugged. “As Cal says, I'll try to avoid dying. And I have to create a bow for myself—”