Tara Duncan and the Spellbinders by Princess Sophie Audouin-Mamikonian Page B

wizard was so odd, she didn’t quite know how to answer.
    â€œWell, you have cauldrons, and you mix potions, there’s black magic and white magic, and . . . ”
    Chem was making such a horrible face that Tara’s voice gradually faded away.
    â€œFire and brimstone!” the old wizard raged. “Nonspells are always trying to codify what spellbinders do, and it’s always twaddle! Cauldrons and potions exist, but they aren’t important! We are masters of spells . And magic isn’t black or white; it’s just a tool that depends on who is using it. If you slice your bread with a knife, that’s good, but if you stab somebody with a knife, that’s bad. But the knife isn’t good or bad; it’s just a knife. Zounds! Your grandmother hasn’t taught you anything !”
    â€œWell, duh! That’s just the problem,” said Tara. “And who are those Bloodgraves? You haven’t talked about them yet.”
    She had touched on a sore point, and the wizard grimaced.
    â€œThe Bloodgraves are pretentious, arrogant spellbinders who think they’re powerful enough to be masters of the universe. They dress only in gray and hide their faces behind a mask so no one will know who they are. They have declared themselves our enemies and are constantly battling us for control of our worlds.”
    Now it was Tara’s turn to grimace. “Why do they have such a weird name?”
    â€œIn the language of our primitive ancestors, we were known as ‘Those who know how to bind spells.’ That was a little long, and over time it became shortened to ‘spellbinders.’ Those who lacked our powers were called ‘non-spellbinders.’ That got shortened as well, to ‘nonspells.’ A spellbinder named Druidor Bloodgrave decided that the nonspells should be our slaves. The hunter-elves defeated and killed him, but not before he acquired followers. When they decided to challenge us, the gray spellbinders called themselves Bloodgraves in Druidor’s honor, and dug up those ridiculous old names. For heaven’s sake, Isabella, you could at least have warned her against the Bloodgraves.”
    â€œI didn’t teach Tara’tylanhnem anything because her father made me swear that she would not be a spellbinder and would lead a normal life. To protect her, I was even prepared to hide her gift from the High Council.”
    â€œ What ?” the old wizard almost fell off his chair. “That’s unacceptable! How could you conceive of such a thing? It’s forbidden!”
    Though no longer under the petrifying spell, Isabella was as still and rigid as a statue.
    â€œI gave my word,” she simply said.
    â€œThat’s no reason! We have laws, Isabella, laws created to protect the nonspells and also to protect us. We aren’t outlaws, like the Bloodgraves. Do you have any idea how much harm Tara could have done?”
    â€œBut it didn’t happen!”
    â€œEnough! That’s no excuse! Or do you think you are above the law, Isabella? Are you declaring yourself to be a Semchanach?”
    (Semchanachs, Tara would learn much later, were spellbinders who rejected the authority of the High Council. They weren’t necessarily Bloodgraves, and could use magic as they pleased, provided it didn’t harm anyone. If it did, they were mercilessly tracked down by the hunter-elves.)
    Isabella looked as if she’d been punched in the face.
    â€œNo, of course not!” she shot back. “I’ve never tried to evade the Council’s authority. I obey its orders, as you know better than anyone. But Chem, I swore a blood oath!”
    Now it was the old wizard’s turn to stiffen.
    â€œA blood oath! Are you joking?”
    â€œCertainly not,” she said, pulling up the sleeves of her robe and moving her bracelets aside. Each of her wrists bore a red glyph in the shape of a horizontal number 8. The wizard turned pale and