Tara Duncan and the Spellbinders (28 page)

The majordomo announced them: “The guest of High Wizard Chemnashaovirodaintrachivu and the apprentice of Lady Kalibris: Tara'tylanhnem Duncan and Gloria Daavil. Young ladies, you may conjure the object of your choice.”

Tara decided she really liked the empress's style. Let's see, she has such wonderful hair, she thought, how about a golden snood strewn with sapphire flowers to match her eyes? Nah, too banal. She can do better that that. Then she got an idea . . .

Tara looked at Gallant while visualizing a glass and gold statue of a pegasus poised to take flight. Her white forelock crackled, and the audience gasped in surprise when a splendid statue materialized.

Tara had noticed that people in Omois liked big things, but in this case she may have gone a bit overboard. The glittering statue was enormous, with each muscle and hair limned in glass and gold. As a whole it was breathtakingly elegant.

For her part, Sparrow had decided to play up to the emperor, so she created a beautiful cigar box with a built-in humidor, decorated with centaurs and unicorns. A ghost of a smile appeared on the imperial lips, and she knew she had chosen well. Her box was less impressive than Tara's present, but Sparrow was still pleased with herself.

The majordomo signaled to the guards to take the gifts away, then spoke again: “Thank you. You may now present your familiars.”

Gallant and Sheeba approached the thrones. The majordomo was about to have them go into action when the emperor spoke.

“Wait a minute,” he said in a deep bass voice. “That's a pegasus! Why is your familiar so small?”

How could Tara answer him, since she was only allowed to say yes or no? She looked over at Chem who nodded that it was all right.

To be on the safe side, she bowed before saying anything.

“He is indeed a pegasus, Your Imperial Majesty”—or was it “Majestic Highness”? She couldn't remember!—“I miniaturized him so he could come indoors with me.”

“Ah, very interesting,” he exclaimed in his unusual voice. “But that means you have an unfair advantage over your friend here. Would you mind restoring it to its normal size?”

No problem, she thought.

“I'd be happy to, Your High Majesty.” Turning to Gallant, she said, “By Normalus it would be wise if you regained your normal size.”

The magnificent pegasus grew to its full size, looming over the admiring assembly.

“Hm, I can see why you made him smaller,” said the emperor as he looked Gallant over carefully. “He's very big, even for a pegasus.”

“Yes, Your Imperial Majesty.”

“Very well, show us what you can do. But given your familiar's size, please start alone. We will see your friend perform after you.”

“Yes, Your High Majesticness.”

Tara sounded confident, but she was actually very nervous. She could easily conjure flaming hoops for a small pegasus, but creating one for a full-size winged horse was something else again. She glanced nervously at the hall's flammable coffered ceiling, and regretted that Omoisians so loved building with wood, especially wood that was rare and dry.

The others must have picked up on her anxiety because Tara noticed that Sparrow looked tense, and the spellbinders were suddenly watching very closely.

Tara took a deep breath and looked upward, and a huge flaming hoop appeared. Gallant leaped into the air and flew through it, without his vast wings even brushing the hoop's edges.

It was a spectacular scene, and Tara was heaving a sigh of relief when she suddenly felt a sharp pain at her neck. It abruptly broke her concentration.

To her horror, the flaming hoop expanded and started to fill the hall with a terrific fireball that Gallant was barely able to avoid. But the crowd thought she had done this deliberately, and everybody applauded.

Despite the pain, Tara managed to regain control of her magic. She was able to extinguish the flames, which were getting dangerously close to the wooden ceiling, as Gallant returned to the ground.

When a pegasus is frightened, it bristles, and when Gallant landed, still trembling, next to Tara, he looked like a huge ball of feathers. She wiped away the sweat running into his eyes. They had barely avoided a catastrophe!

T
he empress and emperor were satisfied and had Sheeba perform with Sparrow. Then Tara miniaturized Gallant, and the two friends left as another pair of apprentices took their places.

Once back with Cal and Robin, Tara was finally free to touch her neck. To her horror, her hand came away covered with blood.

“What happened to you?” Sparrow screamed.

“I don't know,” she said. “I was trying to maintain the flaming hoop when something stung me. I lost my focus and very nearly killed Gallant and set the palace on fire.”

“You mean you didn't do that on purpose?” exclaimed Cal, wide-eyed. “It was a terrific show.”

“I didn't do any of it,” Tara said bitterly, who was in pain. “I have no idea what happened.”

When Robin examined her wound, he got a surprise. “That's a blood fly sting!”

“A what ? ”

“A blood fly, an insect that mostly bites cattle. There's no way it could have gotten into the palace by itself. There are insect-repellent spells all over the place.”

“Someone was trying to make you lose your concentration, and I think I know who,” said Cal, who was scanning the crowd. “Wait a moment.” Quick as a fox, he darted off between the spellbinders and courtiers, and disappeared.

Robin couldn't stand the sight of Tara in pain, so he put his hand on the sting and said: “By Healus, let the pain be gone, let Tara's wound be cured anon!”

To her great relief, Tara felt the pain fade, then disappear. She gave Robin a warm smile, which seemed to embarrass him.

Cal came back, muttering angrily.

“The little brat was careful to stay close to the thrones. She knows that if I get my hands on her—”

“Who in the world are you talking about?” asked Sparrow, baffled by Cal's doings.

“Angelica! I'm sure she's the one who planned this. That's why she did her best not to be selected. She was holding something in her hand when she came into the hall. I didn't pay any attention at the time, but I'll bet it was a blowgun. Just wait until I catch her.”

In spite of her intense dislike of Angelica, Tara didn't want Cal tackling a girl who was twice his size and a much better spellbinder. Somewhat reluctantly, she decided to calm things down.

“But you don't have any proof, Cal. You can't go around accusing people without proof.”

“You want proof?” he asked, glowering. “Wait here. I'll give you proof!”

Ignoring her protests, he again disappeared into the crowd.

While Tara's group was arguing, the two apprentices performing for the imperial couple were asked to create Portals, those magic passageways created by the dragons and later used by spellbinders to travel great distances. (For short trips, levitation, flying carpets, and “Transmitus” spells were perfectly adequate.)

The exercise was somewhat dangerous. A poorly mastered Portal could escape its creator's control and send everybody somewhere else—to a place from which no traveler returns.

The hall was completely silent.

The two apprentices seemed to know what they were doing, and together they said: “By Transferus, Portal, open wide. Transfer me to the other side.”

Vague, luminous shapes shot from their fingertips and coalesced into two Portals opening in a yawning void.

Suddenly a scream in the crowd rang out, shattering the spellbinders' intense concentration—and causing a catastrophe.

As with Tara, one of the apprentices lost his hold over his magic. The Portal he had just created escaped from his control and literally exploded, tripling in size in a second. The resulting shock wave very quickly became a swirling vortex. The Portal started spinning out of control, threatening to swallow the entire palace! Chandeliers, candles, spears, and chairs—anything that wasn't nailed down— were already being sucked into the whirlpool. People ran around screaming and the guards dragged the empress and the emperor away to safety. Master Chem, Lady Auxia, and the other high wizards furiously chanted spells, but without effect. Long beams of destructive energy were now shooting from the Portal and sowing panic. A terrible wind arose, growing from a gale to a thundering tornado centered on the Portal.

Someone bumped into Tara. Then, before she realized it, the wind blasted her in front of the apprentice who was desperately trying to master his Portal. Suddenly she had a flash of inspiration: she knew what he had to do!

Struggling against the sucking force, she shouted to the boy: “Listen to me! You have to concentrate on the vortex! Try to miniaturize it, then close it. If you can master the vortex, you'll regain control of the Portal. We can do it together!”

The boy was white as a sheet. Without looking at her, he obeyed. Together, they stretched their hands toward the expanding whirlwind and said: “By Miniaturus as quick as we think, may the vortex irreversibly shrink!”

Nothing happened.

Not only did nothing happen, but Tara sensed a kind of rejection, a negative power that opposed their efforts. And that power was coming from the thrones! One of the high wizards was trying to keep them from closing the Portal! Master Dragosh was firing lightning bolts into the whirlwind. Was he doing that to close it or to strengthen it?

To her horror, Tara saw a familiar suddenly sucked into the swirling void, to the anguished scream of its human companion. And like an evil entity, the Portal was coming closer in spite of all the wizards' efforts.

Suddenly the boy next to her yelled as he began to slip, drawn into the whirlwind. Tara seized his arm, but the young apprentice flailed around so violently, he shook her off. She wasn't able to grab him again and watched with mute horror as he was sucked into the vortex. The boy's legs thrashed around for a moment, and then he was gone.

Tara herself was now just a few yards from the Portal and could feel its pull on her increasing. She lay flat on her stomach, desperately trying to hang onto something, but the blasted Omoisians covered everything with slippery marble, and she continued sliding.

The high wizards intensified their efforts and the hole suddenly stabilized and even began to shrink, but too slowly, much too slowly. Tara was about to be sucked in as well.

Suddenly something grabbed her feet, stopping her slide. But when Tara turned around to look, she almost fainted. Holding her ankles was a gigantic Beast, a terrifying combination of a lion, a bear, and a bull.

Tara was about to kick free when the beast yelled: “Stop! It's me, Sparrow!”

Tara thought she was losing her mind.

“Sparrow?”

“For heaven sakes, concentrate on closing that infernal Portal. You almost had it!”

Held tight by Sparrow, Tara gritted her teeth and focused all her power on the yawning void. Slowly, she forced it to yield. The thunder gradually died away and the Portal disappeared.

Cal and Robin rushed over to Tara and Sparrow, followed by Master Chem. Tara groaned when she stood up. Sparrow had been so afraid of losing her, she'd practically crushed her ankles.

Tara turned to her friend, who looked like the classic fairy-tale Beast: ten feet tall, covered with thick fur, and armed with claws and fangs as long as knives. (Note to self: never, ever annoy Sparrow again, thought Tara.)

“What the heck happened?” Tara asked, as she massaged her legs. “How did you turn into that big hairy thing with teeth?”

“I don't know,” moaned Sparrow, whose spellbinder's robe was desperately stretching to accommodate her new bulk. “I didn't know what to do to help you, then all of a sudden something happened. I started to get bigger and stronger—strong enough to break through the edge of the whirlwind. I saw you sliding, I grabbed you, and that was it.”

Poor Sparrow seemed totally freaked out by what had happened to her. Even Sheeba, her fur standing on end, was sniffing at her distrustfully.

A sudden blare of trumpets made everyone jump. All the courtiers bowed at once, and the Travia wizards and apprentices watched as the empress and the emperor returned to their thrones.

Though apparently impassive, the empress was pale with rage. She had wanted to join in the battle, but her guards had dragged her to shelter without asking her opinion. She had decided that the captain of her guards was due for a very long rest—maybe spreading pegasus manure on a rose garden somewhere.

“Tara'tylanhnem Duncan, I want to thank you for what you did,” she declared. “It wasn't very smart, but it was very brave. The wizards would have quickly mastered the danger, and if my guards hadn't decided to move me to safety”—she cast an icy glance at the captain, who turned pale—“I could have helped them close the Portal. They must have forgotten that I am not only the empress, but also the Imperial Spellbinder.”

Tara frowned. That title sounded familiar. Where could she have heard it before?

“You saved many lives and prevented great damage to our palace,” she continued. “I therefore wish to reward you. I will grant whatever you ask of me.”

Tara bowed.

“I'm deeply honored by the favor, Your Imperial Majesty, but I'm unable to choose right now. My mind's still exhausted from the struggle against the Portal and I'm not thinking clearly. Can I give you my choice some other time?”

“Ah, a favor,” said Emperor Sandor, who'd been listening closely.

“That's a good idea. So our Empire now owes you a favor.”

Put in that curious way, the phrase sounded vaguely menacing.

“Well, a
small
favor,” said Tara, who didn't want to create a diplomatic incident.

“No, no!” the empress protested, waving Sandor off. “I have spoken. I will grant whatever you desire. But to set a limit on this imperial favor, let us say that it will be valid until you come of age”— the woman wasn't a politician for nothing; an adult's desires are very different from those of an adolescent—“and it must concern only you. It is not transferable. Does that suit you?”