"The Broken Sphere" - читать интересную книгу автора (Findley Nigel)

Chapter Eight

As he'd expected, Teldin was hard pressed to match the pace the three People were setting through the forest. All three of the creatures were walking in front of him, "chattering" back and forth among themselves-probably thinking the "not-People" couldn't overhear their conversation. The Cloakmaster smiled wryly. With the cloak's help, he could decipher their crosstalk… if he wanted to. But he'd quickly decided the creatures didn't have much to "say" that wasn't banal-comments about the position of the mini-suns, the way the foliage was growing, and such things-and had soon "tuned out" their conversation until it became nothing more than a background mental hum.

Even though they didn't discuss him-presumably out of some sense of politeness-Teldin knew he still fascinated the creatures. When they didn't think he was paying attention, all three of them oriented themselves so that one of their three eyes was fixed directly on him. As soon as they saw his own eyes on them, however, without breaking stride they pivoted slightly-a matter of sixty degrees or so-so they weren't staring right at him. Each time he noticed this shift, he chuckled slightly to himself.

It's fascinating, he told himself. I have no fear of these creatures. Why is that?

When Speaks First had made it clear that the invitation to the "Place of People" was for Teldin alone, the Cloakmaster had passed the message on to Julia and Djan. Predictably. both first and second mate had tried to talk him out of going alone with the trilateral-Julia even going so far as to call him an overtrusting, rock-headed idiot. But he'd been adamant, eventually "pulling rank" on the two of them, ordering them-as captain-to wait for his return. He shook his head. Maybe that hadn't been such a swift move, particularly in Julia's case. Odds were, she'd make him pay later, one way or another.

The path the creatures were following was smooth and free of obstacles, an easy walk. That allowed Teldin to let his concentration wander from the ground at his feet to the grass-trees that towered around him. At first he'd thought the foliage and underbrush were empty of life. Once he'd figured out what to look for, and where, however, he was amazed by the profusion of creatures surrounding him.

To his fascination, there wasn't a single specimen that even vaguely resembled a creature with which he was familiar. Certainly, it was easy to pick out the niche each creature filled, or the function it fulfilled in the forest, but the details were decidedly alien.

Take the "birds," for example. They perched on the branches of the grass-trees, feeding on the leaves or on bright purple berries, delicately picking the fruit with one delicate, three-clawed foot while clinging to their perch with the other two, and consuming it with a mouth mounted on their undersides. When they flew from perch to perch, they did so, not by flapping their three wings-covered with short, wiry hair, he noticed, not feathers-but by whirling them around their bodies in complex, interwoven patterns. Althrough they looked like small, swirling bundles of chaos, he couldn't help but notice the precision with which they avoided obstacles and landed on the slender branches.

Is everything trilaterally symmetrical here? he asked him-self. If so-and that was certainly how it appeared-the fact that the People matched Estriss's vague description of the Juna didn't necessarily mean much after all. There could well have been two intelligent races on Nex-the Juna and the People. In that case, the "Others" that Speaks First mentioned might be the Juna themselves.

But how likely was it that a race sharing a planet with the advanced Juna would remain at this relatively primitive level? He mused on that for a while. On Ansalon, there were more "primitive" races. But either the humans had "civilized" them to some degree, or-in the case of some of the humanoids-the other races had borrowed or stolen components of human civilization. No, he thought, it didn't seem likely that advanced and primitive races could coexist without some kind of "cultural diffusion" between the two.

So maybe the People arose after the Juna had left. That made a little more sense, didn't it? When the Juna were present, the race that would become the People wasn't intelligent. Perhaps they bore the same relationship to the Juna that apes bore to humankind. When the Star Folk moved on-or died out, or whatever-the People continued to evolve, increasing in intelligence and sophistication over the passing millennia. Maybe magic and other artifacts left behind by the Juna had helped this new race up the evolutionary ladder. In a way, then, if that were true, didn't it make the People the heirs of the Juna? It was an interesting thought. He found himself staring at his three guides with ever deeper fascination.

The trek through the forest lasted no more than a quarter hour. The path they followed led across the slope of the terrain, angling only slightly downward while the hills above and below the path itself were inclined at almost forty-five degrees. Eventually the path opened into a clearing only slightly smaller than the meadow where the Boundless had landed. As the three People continued into the open space, Teldin paused on the margin.

There were more of the People in the clearing-almost twenty of them. Most were roughly the same size as Speaks First and its two companions, but he spotted four that were considerably smaller. Children, he guessed. This had to be a family group, then, or perhaps a tribe or clan. For a few moments the other People seemed unaware of Teldin's presence. Then one of them stopped stock still, a bright gold eye staring directly at the Cloakmaster. In his mind he "heard" a mental cry of warning or alarm-the cloak didn't bother to translate the exact meaning, but its significance was clear enough-and then all of the other People were frozen motionless, too, staring at him. They're examining the "incomplete animal," he thought with a wry smile; having seen the birds and other examples of three-legged Nex native life, the phrase made a lot more sense now.

The stunned immobility lasted only a few moments. Teldin could "hear" Speaks First's explanation that the "not-People not-Other" was a guest. As he'd figured from the outset, Speaks First had to be the equivalent of a clan leader.

Cloakmaster come [pride] be seen by People. Speaks First's mental voice rang clearly in Teldin's head. The trilateral creature made a beckoning gesture with a twice-trifurcated tentacle.

Slowly, Teldin advanced into the clearing, hands open to show he was unarmed. "I mean you no harm," he said as calmly as he could manage, hoping the cloak would inject a reassuring note into the mental message it was broadcasting. The smaller, immature People dashed into the shelter of full-sized adults as he emerged from the forest. The adults themselves, however, exhibited no obvious signs of fear. More fascination than anything, he told himself. Several of the trilaterals were showing the same behavior as Looks Around, rotating about their axes to examine him with one eye after another.

As Teldin approached, Speaks First indicated one of the trilaterals standing nearby. This one [reverence] Message Bearer, the creature's mental voice stated. Message Bearer [respect-honor] memory of People, tell Cloakmaster of past [awe] of Others.

Teldin looked at the one named Message Bearer. Its skin was slightly grayer than that of the others-drier-looking, almost dusty. Its eye, too, appeared slightly different, the Cloakmaster thought, with a duller yellow tinge to it instead of the bright gold luster of the others'. It's old, he told himself. The aged storyteller? It had to be. "Greetings, Message Bearer," he said with a slight bow.

Message Bearer moved closer, stopping a man's height away. Even at that distance, Teldin could smell the creature's odor-sharper and somehow more sour than that of Speaks First. The creature's oddly shaped pupil expanded and contracted, its size changes slower and less precise than those of the younger creatures. This [distaste] not-People, it "said" sharply.

Teldin took a breath to speak, but Speaks First was already communicating with the older creature. Not-People not-Other [respect] Message Bearer correct. Yet not-animal [awe], yet from beyond suns Cloakmaster comes [certainty]. Cloakmaster has questions. Message Bearer [respect] answer [petition-order], Message Bearer speak [order-petition! of Others.

The aging trilateral pivoted to examine Teldin with another eye that looked even more faded than the first. For a few seconds it remained mentally silent, and the Cloakmaster thought it was going to refuse. But then, Cloakmaster [resignation] ask, it answered. It widened its stance slightly, apparently taking up a more comfortable position. To Teldin's surprise, a little squeaking creature-a trilateral analogue of a rat, he guessed-scurried from the edge of the forest carrying a fist-sized yellow-green fruit on its back, steadied by three tiny upper limbs. The creature stopped next to Message Bearer's foot, waited calmly while the trilateral reached down with a tentacle to take the fruit, then bounded off again to disappear into the undergrowth. Message Bearer reached up underneath its cylindrical body, and the fruit disappeared.

What did I just see? Teldin asked himself. He had the unshakable feeling that something important had just happened, but that he simply wasn't grasping the significance. Cloakmaster [impatience] ask, Message Bearer repeated. Teldin took a deep breath and schooled himself to calm. "Tell me about the Others," he requested. Then, "Please," he added.

Message Bearer paused-reflectively, Teldin thought. Others [reverence] gone, it "said" at last. Long ago gone, gone [sadness] forever. Left behind World of the People, left behind Mind of the World.

"Where did they go when they left?"

Gone [certainty]. Gone only, nowhere.

Teldin frowned. "What were the Others like, then?" he asked. "Were they like the People?"

Like the People, the Others [reverence], yet not like. As People are like not-People animals of World of the People, yet not like. People learn of Others through Mind of the World [reverence-awe]. Long ago gone, the Others [sadness], before People see world and think-together.

Teldin nodded slowly. If he was interpreting Message Bearer correctly, he could well have been right in his guess that the People had risen to intelligence and what level of civilization they had after-perhaps long after-the Juna's disappearance.

"Were the Others always here?" he asked. "Did they evolve here?" He wondered how the cloak would handle the word "evolve."

Not [certainty] always here, Others, Message Bearer answered firmly. Others from distant world come, [reverence] from Egg come with all life to World of the People, long before People see world and think-together.

"The Egg. What is the Egg?"

Is [surprise] the Egg. Cloakmaster [suspicion-doubt] not know of Egg? All nonanimals must know of Egg….

Doubt and emerging distrust were emanating from the trilateral in waves. "Maybe we call it something different,"

Teldin said hurriedly. "Tell me about the Egg, and I'll tell you what we call it."

Message Bearer seemed to think about that for a few moments. Then its mental voice continued, Egg is [reverence-awe] the Egg. All life came from Egg, [wonder] everything came from Egg. Egg hatched, and [certainty] everything then was.

"The Broken Sphere…" Teldin murmured under his breath.

This Broken Sphere [anticipation] Cloakmaster's name for Egg?

"Yes," Teldin answered. "So the Juna-the Others-came from the Broken Sphere?"

So this one [certainty] has said, Message Bearer confirmed.

Teldin felt excitement flare in his chest. "And where is the Broken Sphere?" he asked breathlessly.

At the center [certainty-awe] of all things.

"And where's that?"

At the center, is all.

"Where is the center?"

[puzzlement] At the center, between the pearl clusters. Beyond the suns.

Teldin sighed in disappointment. He shouldn't have expected anything else, he told himself. After all, what did he think Message Bearer was going to do, pull out a star-chart and give him precise coordinates? These were racial myths that the creature was reciting to him, using terms and concepts that the People could understand. He shouldn't have expected a meaningful answer, and he shouldn't be disappointed. But he had, and he was.

"Do you know anything about the Spelljammer!" he asked. "A great ship the size of a world?"

To his amazement, he felt a wave of comprehension from the trilateral. The Spelljammer [surprise] is what Cloakmaster calls the Wanderer? Message Bearer asked. Memory of the People [reverence] knows the Wanderer [awe].

"Did the Others build the Spell… the Wanderer?"

What build [shock]? Message Bearer spun again to scrutinize Teldin with its third eye. No build, [outrage] Wanderer is. Wanderer and Others [reverence] together traveled from hatched Egg. Others to World of the People came, Wanderer [awe] throughout creation traveled then, [certainty] travels now.

Teldin sighed again. Once more he realized he was listening to myths, which might or might not have any connection to the truth. Even though he knew it was hopeless, he asked, "Do you know where the Wanderer is now?"

Wanderer is [certainty] where Wanderer is.

Well, that was predictable, wasn't it? Teldin thought with a wry grin. "Does the Wanderer ever come here?"

Beyond the suns [surprise]? Any thing beyond the suns [certainly] driven away, or destroyed. Mind of the World [reverence] makes it so.

That was the third time Message Bearer had mentioned the "Mind of the World," Teldin realized. Just what was it? A magical "watchdog" left behind by the Juna, perhaps? The artifact or group of artifacts that controlled the magical forces that had attacked the Boundless? Teldin had concluded that the People definitely weren't behind the attacks on the ship.

"Where is the Mind of the World?" he asked.

Where [confusion]? Message Bearer echoed. Everywhere is where [puzzlement]. All of world that is not People is Mind of the World. World of Cloakmaster has [skepticism] no mind?

Teldin paused. Communication gap, he told himself. I'm surprised we've avoided it this long. "Where is the Mind of the World?" he asked again. "I wish to see it."

Look around [certainty], was the only answer.

He stroked his beard, thinking. "What is the Mind of the World made of?" he asked, deciding to try a different tack.

Everything [certainty-reverence], Message Bearer responded at once. Everything but People. The creature raised a tentacle, used several delicate tendrils to simultaneously indicate different objects around the clearing, [pleasure-acceptance] Ground is of Mind, tree of Mind, fly-flutter of Mind, fruit of Mind. Mind of the World is everything [certainty-wonder], everything is of Mind.

The Cloakmaster stared at the dull-eyed trilateral with dawning comprehension. Is it saying… ? But, no, that's impossible, isn't it? "Are you saying," he said slowly, "that everything alive on this planet is part of the Mind?"

Everything [certainty] alive, Message Bearer confirmed flatly. Ground alive, trees alive, animals alive. All [reverence] part of Mind.

It couldn't be much clearer than that, could it? Teldin asked himself. Everything around me, all part of some great, single consciousness? It sounded impossible…

But, then, hadn't traveling beyond the moons, away from Krynn-so unimaginably far away-sounded impossible not so very long ago? And it wasn't as if he'd never heard the concept discussed before. In The Philosophers' Rest on Star-fall, he recalled, that had been one of the theories that a handful of elven metaphysicians were arguing over in an alcoholic fog: the possibility that an entire world could somehow become alive, merge into one single, planetary intelligence. At the time he'd dismissed the idea as foolish, as meaningless as the old argument over how many spirits could dance on the point of a sword. Now, however,…

He looked around him again, this time trying to reach out with the extended awareness that the cloak somehow gave him. For an instant, he thought he detected a pervasive sense of awareness, coupled with an echo of the strange feeling of belonging he'd experienced while walking through the forest. Then it was gone without a trace, so suddenly that he couldn't be sure whether he'd really felt it, or whether his mind was playing tricks on him. Search for something hard enough, and you'll find it, he reminded himself, whether it's there or not.

He looked back at the trilateral. "Are the People of the Mind?" he asked quietly.

The People [sadness-acceptancel not of the Mind of the World, Message Bearer replied. Others [reverence] started Mind to protect the People. People not of Mind [loneliness], People free to follow destiny alone. Mind of the World protect People, Mind [serenity] cherish People.

Things are starting to make a little more sense now, Teldin told himself. He remembered how the little ratlike creature had brought the fruit to Message Bearer. The trilateral hadn't had to issue any kind of mental order-the Cloakmaster would have "heard" it if it had. Instead, the trilateral had presumably felt hunger, or maybe just a desire for a fruit. The planetary Mind had somehow sensed that need or desire and had sent part of it forth-in the form of the rat-thing-to satisfy it.

Did it go even further than that? Had the rat-thing picked the fruit, or had the plant-being part of the world-Mind itself-just let the fruit fall? The possibilities were almost endless…

And quite frightening. A human was more intelligent than a rat, largely because a human had a larger brain. A dragon was-arguably-more intelligent than a human, again because it had a larger brain.

What about a brain the size of an entire planet… ? Teldin felt his fear like ice water in the marrow of his bones. "Do you… communicate with the Mind?" he asked. "Do you 'think-together' with it?"

The incessant motions of Message Bearer's tentacle tips slowed. Teldin could feel the creature's sadness like a palpable pressure against the fringes of his mind. Mind of the World [loneliness-melancholy] not think-together, it "said" softly. People try often [sadness], never succeed. Mind of the World not made [isolation] for think-together with People, Mind cherishes People, Mind protects People. But not [despair] think-together.

"Protects? "Protects how?" the Cloakmaster asked, suddenly sure he knew the answer. "Through magic'"

People [puzzlement] not know magic.

"By lights in the sky, by lightning strikes from the ground… ?"

By [undemanding] making the suns move, yes, Message Bearer's mental voice cut him off. This [curious] magic?

"It must be," Teldin confirmed.

Message Bearer's pupil tightened down to three fine, intersecting black lines. The sense of scrutiny, of speculation was undeniable. This magic [doubt], the reason [suspicion] why Cloakmaster to World of People come?

"If you're asking what I think you're asking, yes," the Cloakmaster told the creature. "Your Mind of the World almost destroyed my ship, almost killed my friends."

The trilateral didn't respond immediately. When it did, its mental voice was slow. Mind of World [doubt] protects People from harm. Not [sadness] cause harm to not-People not-Others not-animals [regret]. Wrong [decision] is.

I get the feeling that was an apology, Teldin mused wryly. Then another thought struck him.

"Do the People regret the harm that was done to me and my ship?" he asked.

The answer was as immediate as it was unequivocal. Regret, yes.

"Then," the Cloakmaster pressed, "if the Mind of the World really responds to your desires, I think you can help us out…."

*****

Teldin stood beside the smashed hull of the Boundless, flanked by Message Bearer and Speaks First. After leading them back to the clearing, he'd steered them on a stem-to-stern tour of the crippled vessel, pointing out the critical damage inflicted by the magical blasts from the surface. As other members of the crew looked on, gaping openly, he'd shown the trilateral the fractures in the keel, stressing repeatedly that the damage prevented the ship from ever lifting back into space.

Throughout, he'd sensed their emotional reactions, "eavesdropped" on their conversation between themselves. While they'd been puzzled at first by the ship's design, they soon came to understand its purpose and basic structure. He could easily detect their surprise and dismay over the fact that the Mind of the World, in protecting and "cherishing" them, could mete out destruction to "not-People not-Others not-animals" such as Teldin Moore.

At last he finished his explanations. He gestured around to the crew lining the deck rails-including Djan and Julia, both of whom quite obviously wanted to know just what was going on. They can wait until this is over with, he decided. "That's the situation we find ourselves in," he concluded. "The Mind of the World did this. Can the Mind of the World undo it? It's up to you, I think." And then he stepped back, reaching out with whatever extended perception the cloak saw fit to grant him at the moment.

If he'd been hoping to be able to detect a moment of decision, to sense the interaction between the two trilateral and the planetary mind, he was disappointed. He sensed nothing.

For a long moment, he thought nothing was happening. But then, in his peripheral vision, he saw movement.

From this spot, on the soft "grass" of the meadow, he could see through the great rent in the squid ship's hull, into the bilges. The light from the speeding mini-suns shone down through the open cargo hatch, then through the hole blown in the cargo deck itself, illuminating the smashed keel. In the yellow-orange light Teldin saw the wood of the keel shift-saw it flex slightly, watched as the individual wood fibers interwove with one another, knitting themselves back together.

He felt the almost uncontrollable urge to recoil from the sight, to deny it, to refuse to accept that such things were possible. But with a titanic effort of will, he forced himself to watch the process through to its conclusion.

It didn't take long. Within three or four minutes, Teldin found he couldn't tell anymore where the breaks had been. Under even the closest scrutiny, the thick keel looked like one solid piece of wood again. He reached in through the hull breach, ran his hand over the smooth wood. Under his fingers, the only evidence of the damage was that certain regions were slightly warmer than others.

Major damage [satisfaction] undone. Ship [expectation] function with other damage?

Teldin turned to face the two trilateral. It was Speaks First who'd "spoken." He glanced up at Djan, at the rail above. "It wants to know if we can fly with the other damage," he relayed.

The half-elf shrugged dispiritedly. He hadn't seen the miracle in the bilges, Teldin reminded himself. "The only thing that matters is the keel," Djan replied. "We can fix everything else while we're underway, but without that keel…"

"Be careful what you ask for. You might just get it," Teldin said with a quick grin. Djan stared at him for a few moments as though the half-elf thought the captain had lost his mind. Then the first mate's eyes widened with surprise, and he disappeared. Teldin heard his friend's running footsteps thundering down the ladder into the cargo deck. With a smile, he turned back to the trilaterals.

"The other damage doesn't matter," he told Speaks First. "Thank you for our keel."

The creature waved its tentacles-dismissively, the Cloak-master thought. Then Cloakmaster [certainty]should from [impatience] World of the People, it "said" firmly. World of the People [decision] not for the Cloakmaster, Mind of the World [detachment] not for the Cloakmaster. And with that, the two creatures strode away for the edge of the forest.

'What was all that about?" Julia called down to him.

The Cloakmaster shrugged. "I think we've just been dismissed."

From within the hull, he heard Djan's yell of astonishment and joy as the half-elf saw the mended keel.

Teldin stood on the afterdeck of the Boundless. Julia and Djan were still leaning on the rails of the grounded ship, staring at the periphery of the meadow. Since the departure of Speaks First and Message Bearer, nobody had seen any sign of the trilaterals. It's almost as if they've decided the Incomplete animals" are off-limits, the Cloakmaster mused. Certainly, the creatures seemed to have no curiosity about Teldin and the others, or what they'd do now that the ship's keel was fixed. That, perhaps, was the most alien thing about them, he mused. Virtually every other race he'd ever encountered had some touch of what his grandfather had called "monkey curiosity."

"A mending spell," Djan breathed for the dozenth time, amazement still sounding in his voice. "A mending spell, that's all it was that fixed the keel. Rudimentary magic, the kind of thing any wizard's apprentice learns in his first year of training. But the scale, a whole ship's keel…" He shook his head. "If we could find some way to harness this Mind-"

"No," he cut himself off sharply. "Forget I said that. I don't want anything to do with those… those things, and the sooner we're back in space, the better."

Teldin turned, surprised at his friend's vehemence. Although he, too, wanted to get clear of Nex-and intended to, as soon as the crew had the ship spaceworthy again-he didn't have any particular negative feelings toward the trilaterals. "Why's that?" he asked.

"It's this whole 'Mind of the World' thing," Djan replied. He shrugged apologetically, visibly forcing himself to calm down. "This whole business of the world-mind cherishing and protecting the People. It scares me."

Julia had turned to regard the half-elf as well. "What's wrong with it?" she asked. She grinned. "I wouldn't mind a little cherishing from time to time."

"But what does that cherishing mean?" Djan asked. "Doesn't it mean that the People get their every need met? Maybe even before they realize they've got a need. Remember what Teldin said about that rat creature bringing Message Bearer a fruit'"

Teldin nodded slowly. He thought he knew where the half-elf was going with this.

Julia obviously hadn't guessed yet, however. "So what's wrong with that'" she repeated blankly.

"It's stagnation," Djan answered, his voice cold. "That's what's wrong with it. The People are living in this… "-he struggled for words-"this terrestrial paradise. The Mind protects them from anything that might threaten them. The Mind gives them food whenever they need it, probably gives them warmth. Maybe reassurance, too, I don't know.

"So what's left for them to strive for?" he demanded. "What goals are they pursuing? Name me one thing they need and want that's just a little bit out of their reach, that they have to struggle to achieve. There's nothing, is there?"

Neither Teldin nor Julia had an answer for him.

"And that's stagnation," Djan concluded more quietly. "They're not progressing, they're not advancing. They're just there." He turned to the Cloakmaster. "Teldin, you think they evolved from some species-the equivalent of a monkey, perhaps-the Juna left behind, don't you?"

Teldin nodded wordlessly.

"So they evolved, the People," the half-elf went on. "They evolved to the point where the Mind of the World decided that they were no longer animals, that they were different from the rat-things, and the birds, and who knows what else. That's when the Mind started to 'cherish' them.

"And at that moment, evolution stopped." Djan sighed. "If we could travel a thousand years into the past, I'm convinced we'd find the People living exactly the same way. And a thousand years into the future, the same thing: nothing would be changed.

"If the People ever had a destiny as a race," he said, his voice little more than a whisper, "I think the Mind has made sure they'll never reach it. All from the highest of motives, of course." He looked steadily at Teldin, then Julia. "And that's what bothers me."

*****

Teldin watched the mini-suns crisscrossing the sky overhead and felt the fear in his chest. One of those things almost got us once, he thought, and that was on the way down, when we could use the planet's gravity to give us more speed. Can we evade them on the way up?

He knew his tension was shared by the rest of the crew; he could feel it in the air around him like the sense of waiting before a thunderstorm breaks. But they weren't talking about it-not in his hearing, anyway-and it didn't seem to be interfering with their work as they readied the ship for space. Maybe the fear's a good thing, the Cloakmaster mused. If it makes somebody jump just that bit faster, it might help keep us alive.

He abandoned his scrutiny of the sky as he heard Djan join him on the sterncastle. "Are we ready?" he asked.

The first mate nodded. "She's as ready as she'll ever be," he announced, patting the Boundless's rail.

"The keel?"

Djan spread his hands. "As good as new, as far as I can tell. Better, even. I don't think we've got anything to worry about on that score."

Teldin saw his friend shoot a quick glance at the speeding mini-suns. "I've been thinking about that," he admitted. "And I think we're reasonably safe. The world-mind tried to destroy us in case our arrival turned out to be a threat to the People, right? Well, what threat could our departure be? You'd think the Mind would be glad to see the last of us."

That's what you think and what I think," the half-elf said darkly. "But what does it think? That's what matters." He paused. "How fast can you take us out of here?"

"Fast," Teldin replied simply.

"Then I think you should do it."

The Cloakmaster nodded. It made sense. "Let's get underway," he suggested.

As Djan hurried about the ship, making sure all crew members were at their stations and ready for what might be a rough ride, Teldin breathed deeply and let himself relax. His breathing slowed, and he could feel the cloak's presence. Gently he let his awareness expand to encompass the whole ship.

He could feel the Boundless wounds, the breaches in the hull that they'd repair only once they were underway. The damage was serious, but he was confident that it wasn't ship-killing. What really mattered was the keel.

As his awareness touched it and spread throughout it, he felt the heavy keel tingling with the remnants of the powerful magic that had repaired it. Djan was right, he sensed, the keel was as good as new, as strong as it had been when the squid ship had first been built. He felt his anxiety lessen another notch.

Blossom was on the ship's main helm; he could feel her presence, her expanded perception overlapping his. Her duty throughout the departure was to keep a lookout around the vessel, to watch for any mini-suns that seemed to be taking an interest in them, and to spot any magical manifestations on the planet's surface. She was not to exert any control over the ship itself, though-Teldin had been adamant about that-unless she knew for a fact that the Cloakmaster had somehow been incapacitated. The risk of conflicting "orders" slowing the ship down at a crucial point was too great otherwise.

Julia swung up the ladder to the afterdeck, carrying her sextant. She flashed him a quick smile as she set up the instrument, steadying it on the stern rail. "Just taking some final readings," she explained.

He nodded wordlessly. The positions and movements of the mini-suns weren't going to be so crucial during the ascent-that's what he'd told himself, at least. On the approach to the planet, the plan had been to keep the ship's speed relatively low as it passed through the region of the fire bodies, to minimize the danger of plunging into the atmosphere at a velocity high enough to destroy the ship- not that that plan had worked all too well anyway, he thought wryly.

That constraint wasn't important now. Teldin figured he could lift the ship as fast as the cloak would let him, confident that the air resistance would only decrease with altitude, until the Boundless emerged into the vacuum of wildspace. By the time the vessel was at an altitude at which the mini-suns could conceivably threaten it, it would be traveling so fast that nothing could keep pace with it.

"Ready," Julia announced, setting her sextant aside. "We've got a window directly overhead."

Teldin nodded wordlessly. Tension still gripped his chest and throat, but as always he found his communion with the cloak kept the stress tolerable, almost as if it were affecting someone else. He looked forward to where Djan stood on the foredeck. The first mate waved and gave him a thumbs-up gesture.

It was time to go. Teldin felt the power of the cloak grow around him, flow through him. Light flared, a nimbus of bright pink that seemed to shine right through his bones. He felt the ship around him like an extension of his body, an extension of his will. As responsive as thought itself, the large squid ship lifted clear of the ground.

Teldin held the vessel at an altitude of fifty feet or so over the meadow, as he repeated his mental "inspection." Now that it was airborne, the stresses on the ship's hull and keel were slightly different. The staved-in planking of the hull had shifted slightly-nothing critical, he decided-but the keel felt as solid as a rock. Gently at first, he put the ship into a climb, feeling out its maneuverability, ready to respond instantly to any instability or other hint of problems. With his wraparound awareness, he saw the verdant forest drop away below him.

The ship was steady, responding instantly to his mental commands. He let the speed build up slowly, as he simultaneously brought up the bow. Again the torn planking of the hull complained, but again he judged it to be nothing dire. Ever more confident with the ship's solidity, he pushed the Boundless to the maximum speed he felt was safe within the atmosphere. Rigging creaked and sang in the wind that penetrated the vessel's air envelope, an audible counterpoint to the tension that still gripped his heart. He brought the bow up even farther. The contrast between what his sense of balance and what his eyes told him became profound. While he felt as though he were standing upright on a horizontal surface, the horizon of the planet was canted at an angle of sixty degrees or more as the squid ship hurtled toward the freedom of space.

Julia was back at the sextant, tracking the mini-suns once more. "No change," she announced quietly. "The window's still open."

Teldin nodded. He could feel the resistance of Nex's atmosphere lessening, and he added a touch more speed. The ship was now flying faster than a dragon, faster than a swooping eagle. Soon, he knew, it would be traveling unimaginably faster still.

Below the ship, the surface of the world was changing from the landscape of a map to a sphere. From this altitude, he could easily see the curvature of the horizon.

Without warning, the keening of the wind through the rigging died. They were clear of the planet's atmosphere, Teldin knew. The only air around them was that which the ship carried along with it, and that was traveling at the same speed as the vessel itself. In other words, there was no more air resistance. He extended his will, through the cloak, and the Boundless leaped forward.

"Coming up on the mini-suns," Julia said.

"Any change?" he asked.

She shook her head, her copper hair gleaming in the ruddy light of the fire bodies. "They're all still on course."

"Let them stay that way," he muttered.

The passage through the region of the mini-suns turned out to be purest anticlimax. At the ultimate helm's full spelljamming speed, the squid ship flashed through the danger zone and out into the emptiness of wildspace. If the Mind of the World had even noticed their departure, it hadn't shown the slightest sign. According to Julia's readings, no mini-sun had diverged even a fraction of a degree from its normal course.

For the first time since the Boundless had lifted from the planet, Teldin let himself relax. "Please tell Blossom that she has the helm," he said quietly to Julia, and he heard her relay the message down the speaking tube. Only when he felt the priest extend her will did he let the power of the cloak fade from around him. The ship immediately slowed to normal spelljamming speed from the velocity imparted by the ultimate helm.

"Blossom wants to know what course to set," Julia announced.

The Cloakmaster was silent for a few moments. Then, "Tell her to take us out the way we came in," he decided, "That'll do for the moment. I need to talk some things over with you and Djan."

*****

Teldin stared fixedly out of the Boundless's starboard "eye" port, as if looking for an answer to his questions in the unrelieved blackness of wildspace. Behind him he heard Djan shift uncomfortably in his chair.

"You don't know where to go next," the half-elf said quietly, is that it?"

The Cloakmaster nodded wordlessly.

"The People didn't know where the Juna disappeared to?" Julia asked.

"No," Teldin replied. "Message Bearer said they're just gone."

"But they did mention the Broken Sphere," Djan reminded him.

"Yes," Teldin agreed, "but they didn't say anything meaningful about where it is. Just that it's 'at the center of all things,' and 'between the pearl clusters' or something. Does that mean anything to either of you?" He turned his back on the porthole to look at his friends.

Djan shook his head. "That sounds like myths I've heard in the past," he said, "about the First Sphere, the Cosmic Egg."

The Cloakmaster nodded. "Me, too," he agreed, remembering what he'd read in the Great Archive on Crescent.

"There was nothing new?" the first mate asked.

"Only that the People link the Spelljammer with the Broken Sphere," Teldin said, "and with the Juna. But I've heard both those connections before."

"And it doesn't help anyway," Djan concluded. "People have been looking for the First Sphere for a long time and they've never found it. What are the odds that we'd be the first?"

Teldin glanced over at Julia, saw the pensive expression on her face. "What is it?" he asked. "Did you think of something?"

She looked up, a little surprised to be jolted out of her reverie. "Probably not," she said slowly, "it's probably nothing…" She smiled self-deprecatingly. "But… you said something about 'pearl clusters,' didn't you?" The Cloak-master nodded. "Well, from the Flow, crystal spheres often look like pearls, don't they?"

"So?" Teldin wanted to know.

"So, what if there's somewhere in the universe where the crystal spheres are very close together?" she suggested. "Where they look like clusters of pearls? Maybe that's where you'll find the Broken Sphere."

A half-forgotten memory tugged at Teldin's consciousness. What was it… ?

Then it came back to him. It was an image he'd seen through the perceptions of the Spelljammer via the amulet, while he was cruising in the Ship of Fools to the world of Crescent. An image of half a dozen crystal spheres so tightly packed that some were separated by less than the diameter of a single sphere-gathered together against the backdrop of the Flow like a cluster of gargantuan, magical pearls….

Excitement washed over him like a wave. Breathlessly, he described the image to his friends. "Is there any place like that on the charts?" he asked.

His excitement turned into depression again as he saw them both shake their heads. "Not on any charts I've seen," Djan answered for both of them. "Maybe it's on some specialized chart somewhere, but most of the charts you can buy show only the important 'known' spheres, the ones that are on standard trade routes." He laid a hand on the Cloak-master's shoulder in commiseration. "I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you different."

Teldin looked at his friends with empty eyes. "Then I've got nowhere to go," he said quietly.