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

Chapter Four

The individual who, here on Crescent, was known as Grampian watched the man before him shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. A scrawny, insignificant-looking example of his species, Grampian told himself. The man was less than average height, without much flesh on his bones, and had a face like a malnourished camp rat. Yet, here on Crescent, he was revered in certain circles as the most skilled at his specialized craft.

Grampian kept the face he'd assumed frozen into a hard expression, his cold gaze drilling into his ever-more-discomfited hireling. With every moment he could see the man's fear grow. He'd chosen his current appearance specifically based on what he'd guessed humans would find intimidating, and now Grampian was pleased that his insight had been correct.

He kept the man on tenterhooks for another few moments, then let his face relax into a half smile. "You have completed your task, I take it?" he asked.

The man nodded quickly and prodded with his toe a leather backpack that lay on the floor before him. "Right here, everything right here, like you asked."

Grampian nodded. "Good," he pronounced. "There were no… complications?"

The small man's confidence was obviously returning. He flashed a momentary smile, showing crooked and discolored teeth. "No worries," he said, "I'm good at what I do, I tell you that. Just in and out. Nobody saw me. Nobody knows I was even there, the city guard, the librarians that run the place, nobody. Just like I was a wraith." He paused for a moment, glancing down at the backpack at his feet. "These books," he went on slowly, "they're worth a lot?"

Grampian almost laughed out loud. This sneak thief may think he's sly and subtle, Grampian thought, but he's as transparent as a fine crystal goblet. He's considering holding out for more money. The thought of someone like this extorting money from one of Grampian's kind was almost hilarious.

Yet Grampian kept his face expressionless and amusement out of his voice. "Not as such," he said, and almost smiled as the thief's face fell. "They mean nothing to me."

"Then… ?"

"Why?" Grampian found himself enjoying this. Against all his expectations, he realized he enjoyed explaining his reasoning to this mere human. "Because they're valuable to someone else. Extremely valuable. Their only worth to me lies in the fact that, if I have them, this other can't have them. Do you understand?"

The thiefs disappointment was evident, but he nodded and forced a smile onto his face. "So I did a good job anyway," he suggested.

"Perhaps." Again Grampian was silent and watched the anxiety build on the other's face. "Perhaps you did a good job," he said slowly, "perhaps your efforts are worth a bonus. If you completed all of my instructions." He pointed to the backpack. "Did you get them all?"

"Sure I did, every last one on your list."

"Then, why, I wonder, did the… the subject make arrangements to set sail so soon after he'd visited the library?" Grampian mused. "It seems as if he found what he was looking for, doesn't it? But how could he, if what he was looking for is in the bag at your feet?" He leaned forward, watched with satisfaction as the thief cowered. "You did consider the possibility of multiple copies, I take it? Stealing one copy of a book is little use if there's another on the shelves. You did think of that, didn't you?"

"Sure I did," the thief protested in an aggrieved voice, "I'm not an idiot."

But you are, aren't you? Grampian told himself. He could see the guilt, the realization of his own stupidity in the man's expression. He didn't think of multiple copies.

"Maybe he… the subject… found out stuff from other books," the thief babbled. "There's lots of books in there. I seen them."

Grampian sighed. Predictably, the thief was trying to excuse his failure. Of course, Grampian knew better. He understood a little about the indexing system in use at the Great Archive. There was no way that gnome-built monstrosity could have let the subject fill in the gaps left by the stolen books.

"If it's so important," the thief was still jabbering, "why don't you just send someone to follow this subject of yours?"

This time Grampian couldn't control his smile. "I believe I have that covered," he murmured, "in several ways." He reached into his robe and pulled out a small but heavy pouch, lofted it across the room and into the hands of the thief. "Your payment," he stated. "Discuss this with no one if you want to live to spend it."

Swallowing visibly, the thief shoved the purse into his own belt pouch. He bent to pick up the backpack.

Grampian's sharp order stopped him. "And leave the books."

With a quick bobbing of his head-a gesture that reminded Grampian even more of a man-sized rodent-the thief turned and fled the room.

As the door shut behind the thief, Grampian sighed. It was a good plan, he mused to himself. My mistake was to entrust it to an incompetent. But no matter.

He let his magical disguise drop away, stretched the stiffness out of the limbs of his true form. No matter, he thought again. Every good plan covers contingencies, and this is no exception.

If any humans had been standing in the hall outside the room, they wouldn't have known how to interpret the strange, coughing sound coming from the other side of the door. A member of Grampian's race would have recognized it at once, however. Grampian was laughing.

*****

"Captain Brewer?"

Standing atop the sterncastle, Teldin brought his mind back to the present with a start. He looked over to where one of his new crewmen, a rough-looking half-orc, was standing at the top of one of the ladders leading down to the main deck. Although the fellow looked easily powerful enough to tear the Cloakmaster's arm off and beat him to death with it, the man was shifting uneasily from foot to foot as though uncomfortable in the presence of such an august personage as the squid ship's captain.

"Yes?" Teldin asked, suppressing a smile.

The half-ore tugged at his forelock. "First mate's compliments, Captain," he said carefully, as though reciting something he'd memorized, "and he wants to see you down on the wharf, at your earliest convenience."

Teldin nodded. "Thanks,… Dargeth, isn't it?"

Dargeth bobbed his head enthusiastically, as though awed that his captain remembered his name. Then he just stood there.

It took Teldin a moment to realize he was waiting for further orders. "Uh,… that'll be all, Dargeth," he muttered. With another tug of his forelock, the half-ore turned and scurried back down the ladder to the main deck.

Shaking his head, Teldin followed at a more sedate pace.

There's more to being a captain than I thought, he mused. He didn't want a ship aboard which his crew treated him with awe-though he did want them to follow orders, of course. What he really wanted was a ship like the Probe had been with Aelfred Silverhorn as captain, where the feeling had been relaxed, yet everything got done efficiently. Maybe when the ship was underway he'd be able to discuss the matter with Djan and his other officers. At the moment, though, he had other things to think about. There was more to getting a ship underway than he'd ever thought, more details that could be handled only by the captain. Djan's probably thought of another one, the Cloakmaster thought wryly.

He was right. "I'm sorry I didn't know earlier, Captain," the half-elf explained when Teldin met him on the dock, "but"-his voice took on a sarcastically officious tone-"the masters of ships departing from Compact harbor must get official permission from the harbormaster's office." He shrugged. "I think that's the last outstanding issue."

Teldin sighed. "Can't somebody else handle it?"

"Officially, it's got to be the ship's master," the first mate stressed again. "Sorry, Captain."

The Cloakmaster nodded resignedly. "I'll handle it." He looked around. "Which way's the harbormaster's office?"

*****

Once he'd set off along the wharfside walk in the direction Djan had indicated, Teldin found that he was, in fact, glad for an excuse to get off the ship for one last time before they set sail. The decks and compartments of the squid ship were still scenes of chaos, as the crew gamely struggled to get everything shipshape for departure. The consequence of the last-minute work, however, was that there was nowhere quiet where the Cloakmaster could go and wrestle with his thoughts.

Things were different ashore. There were plenty of people around at this time of day-an hour or two before highsun-feast-but none of them required anything of Teldin Moore, captain of the as-yet-unnamed squid ship. The Cloakmaster found himself thoroughly enjoying the stroll. The sun was warm on his skin, and the breeze blowing onto the shore was crisp and refreshing, carrying with it a fascinating melange of odors-tar, woodsmoke, and other scents that Teldin couldn't identify.

The harbormaster's office was half a dozen spear casts around the curving harbor from where the squid ship was moored. It was a low, stone building, little different from the warehouses, suppliers, and taverns that lined the docks. Totally unprepossessing, the building's only feature that set it apart was the small gray flag bearing the white crescent-and-star emblem that Teldin had first seen on the wasp that had intercepted his approach to the world. As he drew nearer, Teldin took a deep breath, bracing himself for another run-in with frustrating bureaucracy.

"What's that?" The cry came from somewhere nearby, and was followed immediately by a female scream of panic.

Teldin looked wildly around him. Gray-clad passersby were staring up into the blue sky, some of them pointing. The Cloakmaster looked up, too.

Something was burning its way across the sky, a teardrop shape of fire leaving a turbulent trail of white smoke behind it. For an instant, Teldin thought it was a shooting star, a space rock that had plunged into Crescent's atmosphere and was now burning up. But then cold realization struck him. He'd seen this before-months ago, on Ansalon, on the last night of his old life. It was a crippled spelljamming vessel, on fire and plummeting to earth.

As he watched, the ship hurtled overhead, now so close to the ground that he imagined he could hear the rushing of its passage and the roaring of the flames. It was definitely near enough that he could make out the kind of ship-a wasp, painted a familiar light gray. The angular ship was crippled-only one wing remained, and Teldin was sure the keel was shattered-spinning and tumbling wildly. If the crewmen were still aboard, if they hadn't abandoned the stricken vessel before it entered its final dive, they were doomed. To punctuate that realization, the burning vessel drove into the surface of the lake about half a league offshore, bursting into splinters on impact.

The people around Teldin were stunned into momentary silence by the terrifying violence of the impact. But then the yells began again, and people again pointed upward.

More ships were rising into the blue sky-three more gray-painted wasp ships, clawing for altitude. Something serious had to be happening above the planet's surface, the Cloakmaster knew. The wasp that had crashed was definitely part of the Crescent Peace Force-maybe the same ship that had intercepted him-and now three more official vessels were heading for space. Just what in the hells was happening here?

Well, whatever it was, the Cloakmaster decided that Compact's harbormaster could go whistle if he wanted any more paperwork filled out for the squid ship. Regardless of the details, Teldin didn't like the new turn of events, and he figured he'd feel happier aboard his ship and well out into the void. He turned and ran back toward his vessel's berth.

Panic was spreading along the docks as he ran, dodging knots of people. He was almost back at the squid ship when screams of dread rang out again, redoubling in volume. Teldin looked up.

A bloated black shape-no bigger than his smallest fingernail held at arm's length but nonetheless threatening for that-hung in the sky over the city. The Cloakmaster had seen that shape before, too, more times than he cared to recall. Even at this distance, it was impossible to mistake a neogi deathspider….

As he watched, two much smaller dark specks-presumably Crescent-based wasps-swooped down onto the spider ship's stern. One blew apart into fragments, probably shredded by the neogi vessel's aft-firing jettisons. The other continued its attack run, and a small fireball bloomed, bright red against the black of the deathspider.

The Cloakmaster turned away from the spectacle in the sky and sprinted for his ship. He could see Djan on the sterncastle. "Cast off!" Teldin screamed at the top of his lungs. "Get us out of here now!"

Teldin raced up the gangplank and onto the squid ship's deck. Behind him, two crewmen dragged the gangplank aboard the instant he was off it. "Get us spaceborne!" he cried.

"The helm's manned, and we're cast off." Djan's pale and pinched expression belied his calm and controlled tone. "We can lift any minute."

"Port regulations say we've got to clear the harbor area before lifting off," Dargeth pointed out.

"To the Abyss with the port regulations!" Teldin snarled, and he saw the half-ore quail before him. "Djan, get us into space as soon as possible." He looked up at the fight in the skies above them, and shivered. "Sooner."

*****

Neogi! May what gods there be damn them to hells everlasting!

From his window, Grampian glared into the sky. If those foul creatures had interfered with his plans, if they'd driven the subject off Crescent before Grampian's own stratagems were fully in place, they'd pay. Grampian would make sure of that, one way or another.

*****

Teldin sighed. Apparently his ship had managed to avoid the neogi entirely. With no sign of the bloated ship, the Cloakmaster grew ever more confident that he and his crew were safe. Either the Crescent vessels had crippled or destroyed the deathspider, or they'd simply kept it too busy to pursue as the squid ship made its escape. Teldin didn't really care what the truth was. All that mattered was that there were no neogi on his tail. The Cloakmaster was free to take the next step in his great quest.

Even after more than a day underway, the main deck still seemed to be in chaos, as the new crew members struggled to get used to each other and their duties. He knew this was necessary, a normal part of getting a new vessel and crew shipshape, but that didn't make it any less distracting and frustrating.

How much worse must it be for Djan? the Cloakmaster found himself wondering. Djan Alantri had voluntarily taken on most of the responsibilities of organizing the crew. He was handling almost all facets of shipboard routine, from assigning duties to organizing watches, right up to training those crew members who might need a little help. For example, not long ago, Djan had been directly below him in the helm compartment, discussing with the primary helmsman-a corpulent human priestess of Ptah with the unlikely name of Blossom-exactly how to handle the orders she'd hear when the ship next went to battle stations. Teldin sighed. He was lucky to have Djan as his first mate; he was constantly being reminded of that fact. As if to reinforce it again, he noted that the indefatigable half-elf was running the crew through yet another battle station drill.

Well, up here on the sterncastle, at least, it was peaceful. By unspoken agreement, the crew had deemed the sterncastle as "officer country." Until battle stations were officially sounded and the ballista crews had to man their weapons, the afterdeck was reserved for the ship's pensive captain and any members of his officer corps with the temerity to interrupt his thoughts.

Even though he found this strange sign of respect rather amusing, Teldin had to appreciate the privacy. He needed time to think and figure out his feelings.

Just what do I feel? he asked himself. Excitement, definitely. He might well have found the most important clue yet in his quest for an answer to the question of the cloak. Fear? That, too-stemming largely from the two sides of a single question: What if I don't find the answer, and what if I do? Then there was a flurry of conflicting emotions, a bubbling stewpot of wants and desires, fears and anxieties, that he didn't really want to analyze yet.

"Serious thoughts?"

He turned at the sound of a soft voice beside him.

Julia was leaning against the aft rail an arm's length from him. How long has she been there? he asked himself. The light of the distant Heart reflected off her hair, making it look like burning copper. With an effort, he turned his gaze away. He tried to appear natural as he strolled forward to the rail overlooking the open portion of the main deck. "Just thoughts," he said as casually as he could manage. "How are you settling in?"

She didn't answer his question, just came forward as well to stand beside him. He could feel her proximity, even though she didn't touch him, like the heat of a nearby fire. While the urge welled up inside him, he knew he couldn't walk away again.

For a long moment she remained silent, looking down at the activity on the deck below. Then, "You can't avoid me forever, you know," she said softly, her voice hardly above a whisper. She gave him a half smile, whether ironic or sad, he couldn't tell. "It's not that big a ship."

"I've been busy-" he started.

"No," she cut him off gently, "you haven't." She looked down at the main deck again. The silence stretched until Teldin felt he couldn't stand it, felt he'd have to say something to break the tension.

Then Julia spoke again. "I think I understand you, at last," she said, almost as though she were talking to herself. "I didn't before, not really, but I think I do now. You understand why I left you on Bral?"

"You told me why, before we left Crescent."

"Not straight out," she corrected him, "but I hinted at it. Do you really know why?" Without giving him time to answer, she went on, "Because I had to make a decision, Teldin Moore. I had to decide whose life I was going to live: mine or yours. Was I going to… "-she chuckled wryly-"take the helm of my own life, or let you chart my course for me?" She raised a soft hand to his lips, to silence his objections. "Oh, I know you wouldn't have meant to control my actions," she continued. "You might not even have known you were doing it. But you'd have done it just the same, just by being there." She chuckled quietly. "Even if you're not… whatever your first mate said, verentheslae… how could anyone be near the Cloakmaster without being swept up in his destiny?"

She sighed. "And that's the decision I had to make," she said slowly. "Follow my destiny, or follow yours. I chose…" -she smiled again-"and look where I am now. Even my decision didn't change anything, did it?

"That's why I understand you, Teldin Moore," she continued, her voice quiet but intense. "You're struggling with the same thing, aren't you? Do you choose to live your own life, or choose to follow the course that someone else has charted for you? And if you choose your own course, what should that course be? That's it, isn't it?"

Teldin couldn't answer out loud. His throat felt so tight that he could hardly draw breath, let alone speak. He nodded-the slightest inclination of his head, but Julia saw it.

"And that's why you need me, Teldin," she went on. Her voice was pitched barely above a whisper, but still the Cloakmaster had no trouble hearing it over the hubbub from the deck below. "You need someone who understands you. And someone who cares."

Teldin found himself unable to look her in the eyes. He could feel her gaze burning into him. "When you left…" he murmured.

"I know I hurt you," she conceded, "probably more than you let yourself admit. I'm not asking for forgiveness, or for anything like that. All I ask is that you let me care."

Again, the Cloakmaster couldn't answer. There wasn't anything to say, anyway. He reached out, took Julia's soft hand, and squeezed hard, almost fiercely, and felt her return the pressure. Then both let their hands drop back to the rail. He felt a sense of release, deep in his chest-the sense that tension, so long-lived that he'd grown totally unaware of it, had now been relieved.

"I'm glad you're back," Julia said quietly.

Teldin raised an eyebrow. "It wasn't me who went anywhere," he reminded her.

"Maybe not physically," Julia replied, and left it at that.

For a few more minutes they stayed across the rail. The crew seemed to be coming together, coalescing from a mob of disparate individuals into a team that could work smoothly as a unit.

Except for one. Beth-Abz, the big man who'd come aboard with Julia, was among the other crewmen on the main deck, but he didn't seem to be one of them. Even working shoulder to shoulder with the others, he seemed somehow apart. It wasn't solely that the crew seemed to give him a wide berth-though that was part of it-but his manner, and the way he moved.

Was that the truth, or were Teldin's two strange experiences with the big man-the conviction of danger, and the image of a tooth-filled maw-warping his perceptions? No, he decided after a moment, Beth-Abz was different.

But how? And what did those two experiences mean? Were they flashes of insight from the cloak? Or were they twinges of paranoia, with no basis in fact? Either way, he decided it was about time to find out…

Julia seemed to pick up on his thoughts. "Beth-Abz," she said slowly. "Maybe I shouldn't have brought him aboard."

Now that she'd opened the subject, Teldin could ask Julia the questions he'd wanted to since he'd first seen her in the Compact alley. "Who is he?" he queried. "Where did you meet him?"

The copper-haired woman shrugged. "I met him on the docks," she answered. "We'd both just come into port-our ships landed at almost the same time-and we'd both decided to look for berths on other vessels. We got to talking." She paused. "He's an interesting man, Teldin… if you can get him to talk. He's traveled a lot-visited places I've never even heard of. And he's got a unique way of looking at the world."

"So you thought you'd sign on with the same ship?"

"Why not?" she asked simply. "He was the only interesting person I'd met since Bral, and we both wanted passage off Crescent. Remember, this was before I heard that 'Aldyn Brewer' was hiring a crew. When I heard that, I… well, I decided to look into it, and suggested Beth-Abz tag along."

Teldin was silent for a moment. "This Beth-Abz," he started, "he didn't have any particular interest in sailing with 'Aldyn Brewer,' did he?"

She shot him a sharp look. "That's paranoid," she told him flatly.

It was his turn to shrug. "Paranoia's the price I have to pay for staying alive." Then his lips quirked up into a wry smile. "And that sounds even more paranoid, doesn't it?"

She returned his smile. "We'll have plenty of time to talk through your neuroses later," she chuckled. "But, no, he didn't know whose ship we were going to approach, and he didn't care. He just wanted to get back into space."

She hesitated, then went on more firmly, "Listen, Teldin, I just want to make one thing clear. I've never sailed with Beth-Abz. I don't want you to think I'm vouching for him"- she paused again-"in any way. All right?"

He nodded. "All right."

"So, fearless leader," she said with a wicked grin, 'don't you think it's time you told us exactly where we're going? And maybe a little hint about why?"

"Why don't you go get Djan," he suggested, "and meet me in my quarters? There are a few things you should know."

*****

Teldin pulled a tightly folded piece of parchment from his belt pouch and spread it out on the table. Both Julia and Djan leaned forward for a closer look, then glanced up expectantly at Teldin.

"A chart?" Djan asked.

The Cloakmaster nodded. "I copied it from a book in the archive. It contained material from even earlier books, material dating back several hundred years at least." He reached out and tapped a circle near one side of the parchment. "This is Heartspace. And this"-he indicated another-"is Realmspace over here. These lines are rivers in the phlogiston. I think, but I'm not sure, that the book drew the faster rivers wider and the slower ones narrower. Anyway, I tried to copy the width as accurately as I could."

Djan leaned over the table again and examined the roughly scribed chart in silence for a few moments. Then he tapped a couple of symbols on the parchment. "I think you're right," he agreed. "If this is Krynnspace over here"- Teldin nodded confirmation-"then this is the major river leading to Heartspace. It's one of the fastest ever discovered, and it appears as the widest on your map."

Julia had been studying another portion of the map. With a fingertip, she traced another set of lines leading from the vicinity of Heartspace right across to the other side of the parchment. "Then what's this?" she asked. "If you've got the width right, it's almost as fast as the Krynnspace-Heartspace channel, which makes it a major potential trade route. But I've never heard of it before." She looked an unspoken question at Djan, who shook his head as well.

"I got the width right," Teldin said quietly. "If the book's right, it is one of the largest phlogiston rivers in the universe."

"And it leads right here." Djan tapped a circle on the far side of the chart. "To this crystal sphere." He looked closer. "What's this symbol? A flower of some kind?"

Teldin smiled. "You could say that." He caressed the three-petaled flower-which he'd drawn a lot more carefully than anything else on the map-with a calloused forefinger. "That's our destination. Nex."

"Nex?" Djan echoed. "It's a crystal sphere? I've never heard of it."

"I'm not surprised," Teldin agreed. "According to all of the other charts I looked at, it doesn't exist. Neither does the phlogiston river leading to it. But this chart claims it does."

Julia was silent for a moment, then said slowly, "You have to have some good reason to chase wild spacefarers' tales."

"I do," Teldin agreed. "Several of them. First, this symbol. I didn't choose it. It appeared on the chart I copied, and elsewhere in the book as well. Where have you seen it before, Julia?"

She didn't say anything, but Teldin saw her eyes widen, and her gaze drifted to the cloak around his shoulders. She nodded slowly.

"There's more," the Cloakmaster continued. "According to the book, Nex-that's the name of the crystal sphere and the major world inside it-is associated with an ancient race of immense power, capable of reforming entire planets, even entire systems, to suit their needs."

"That sounds like Stardust to me," Djan broke in. "I'm sorry, Captain," he went on apologetically, "but I've heard many myths like that, about some godlike race or other, and I can't bring myself to believe any of them."

"I can," Julia rebutted. "When I was on Radole, I saw the Barrier Mountains and walked through one of the great caverns. They were built by an ancient race, Djan. And 'godlike' is an appropriate description."

The first mate gave her a half bow. "Then I withdraw my objection," he said equably, "having not seen those wonders myself."

"According to the book," Teldin continued, "the race-it called them the 'First Voyagers'-long ago left the universe as we know it. Maybe they died out, maybe they went"-he shrugged-"somewhere else, it didn't say." He glanced at Julia again. "Does that remind you of anything?" he asked.

"Those myths Estriss was always talking about," she said quietly. "The Juna."

Djan cleared his throat quietly. "Perhaps there are some things I need to know if I'm to participate in this discussion," he suggested, his voice dry.

Teldin couldn't help but smile. He clapped his half-elven mate on the shoulder. "You're right, of course. It's rather a long story."

Djan spread his hands. "We have about twenty days until we reach the crystal sphere," he said. "I think I have the time."

Without preamble, Teldin launched into a rendition of what he'd come to think of as the "Saga of the Cloak"-from the night the reigar's spelljamming vessel had crashed on his farm, to his arrival on Crescent in the Ship of Fools. His audience of two remained silent throughout, though he could tell from their expressions when he needed to elaborate on a particular point.

He watched Julia particularly; he knew she already grasped some of the story but not all, though he figured she'd made some informed guesses. He interpreted her occasional slow nod as indication that her guesses had been close to the mark.

At the end, his throat was dry. "Any comments?" he asked.

A slow smile spread over Djan's face. "Verenthestae," he pronounced, "as I'd guessed." He chuckled. "Oh, you don't have to believe me now, but you'll see I'm right." He shook his head in amazement. "Teldin Moore, Cloakmaster. I remember telling you I was looking for a berth on an interesting voyage. I'll have to remember the old saying, 'Be careful what you wish for, lest you receive it.'"

Julia was looking fixedly at the three-petaled flower drawn on the chart. "So the symbol of the Juna is associated with this sphere-what did you call it? Nex?" she mused. "Do you think the Juna are still there?"

"I don't know," he said honestly. "I'd like to think so, and there's some evidence that they might be. But even if they aren't, I might find the answers to a lot of questions."

"Evidence?" Djan picked up on the word, just as Teldin had expected he would. "What evidence would that be?" He Mused. "Something to do with why Nex and this phlogiston river don't appear on other charts?" he surmised. "Am I right?"

"I think so," Teldin allowed. "It has something to do with the sphere's name, too. 'Nex' comes from an ancient language. It means 'violent death.'

"According to the book," he went on quietly, "Nex is a forbidden sphere-or maybe 'proscribed' is a better word. Ships tried to visit it long ago, using the phlogiston river. Few explorers returned, and those that did spoke of being attacked by magic of such titanic power that it could… well…"

" 'Reform entire planets, even entire systems,' " Djan suggested dryly. "Is that the phrase you're looking for?" Teldin simply nodded.

"And Nex was eliminated from all more recent charts because it's proscribed, because to visit it courts violent death, is that what you're saying?" Djan continued.

"It's one possibility," Teldin said.

"Another is that these are all rumors," the half-elf countered calmly, "that neither Nex nor the river in the phlogiston exists."

"Maybe," the Cloakmaster had to admit.

"If you are right, Teldin," Julia started, "what's to say we won't get ourselves blasted out of space?"

He was silent for a few seconds, looking sightlessly at the chart. Then he raised his eyes, met her gaze steadily. "Nothing. If the Juna still exist, and if they created the cloak, I'm betting they'll be able to sense its approach."

"A lot of 'ifs,' " Djan pointed out.

"Granted. But think it through." Teldin ticked off points on his fingers. "First, if Nex doesn't exist, we've lost nothing but time trying to find it. Second, if Nex does exist, but the Juna aren't there, we've lost nothing. Third, if the Juna are still there and they sense the approach of the cloak, we might not have lost anything. Only if the Juna still exist and they attack on sight are we in any danger."

The Cloakmaster drew himself up to his full height. "I want to search for Nex," he said, his voice firm. "I'd like you to sail with me, but it's your choice. If you want, I'll take you back to Crescent.

"Are you with me?" He turned to Djan.

The half-elf was silent for a moment, his face expressionless, then he smiled broadly. "I said I was looking for an interesting voyage. I think I've found it. I'm with you."

"Julia?"

"You know my answer."

Teldin smiled. "All right," he said. "We need to tell the crew. Not everything, obviously, but that this may be a dangerous voyage. Anyone who wants off, they get paid what I promised them. Anyone who stays, they get a bonus equal to their current pay." He looked questioningly at Djan. "Does that make sense?"

"Yes, Captain," the half-elf confirmed. "I'll spread the word. But first… Do you realize some of the crew already think this ship is a jinx, because we're sailing without a name? Very bad luck, according to spacefarer superstition. I think we should remedy that right away."

Teldin thought silently for a few moments, then he glanced over at Julia with a half smile. "I propose Unexpected Rendezvous" he said.

Julia returned his smile. "Better, Boundless Possibilities," she suggested.

"I concur," Djan said at once. "Boundless Possibilities it is." Hie inclined his head to Julia. "Madam second mate, shall we tell the crew?"

The Cloakmaster smiled broadly as he watched them leave. Once the door was shut behind them, though, his smile faded. With a worried frown, he turned to his study of the hand-copied chart once more.

*****

The good ship Boundless was making fine time, Teldin thought. The two helmsmen-the human, Blossom, and a dwarven mage named Dranigor-were keeping the squid ship under almost continuous power, putting more than a million leagues of wildspace under the keel each hour. Already they were far past the most distant planet of the Heartspace system, a mammoth ovoid world known as Loom. Like a yellow-white egg, it hung against the black backdrop almost directly astern.

Their course-which Djan had plotted with the navigator, Lucinus-was taking them toward one of the sixteen permanent portals that allowed access to and from the Heartspace crystal sphere. According to the starchart, using this existing portal took them a little off the direct line from Crescent to the start of the phlogiston river on Teldin's map, adding two days or more to the overall journey. When the Cloakmaster had asked about this, Djan had agreed with him… in principle.

In practice, however, the half-elf had argued, it made more sense to use an existing exit from the sphere than to create one-even temporarily-using magic. Although portal generators and spells with the same effect were largely safe, the mythology of the spaceways described many catastrophes: portals closing prematurely and slicing ships in two, or not opening at all and causing ships to slam into the crystal sphere at great speed. Even though neither Teldin nor Djan fully believed these tales, the Cloakmaster had to agree that it was better to be safe than sorry. In the grand scheme of things-given the concept of verenthestae-what difference did two days' additional travel make?

From his vantage point on the sterncastle, Teldin watched as two halflings-as nimble as children, yet little weaker than human adults-swarmed up the ratlines to adjust the mainmast's single gaff boom. The crew was meshing well, he thought with satisfaction. That reflected well on Djan, the man who'd chosen them. To Teldin's surprise, only two crew members-twin hadozee, known to most of the crew as "deck apes"-had asked to be set ashore when Djan and Julia had explained that the voyage might be dangerous. The Boundless had set down on Starfall, the next world out from Crescent. As he'd promised, Teldin had paid the two hadozee the full sum Djan had negotiated, and the parting had been amicable on both sides. Teldin had assumed his first mate would replace the missing bodies, but Djan had declared it unnecessary. They already had enough hands to sail the squid ship efficiently… and, further, two fewer mouths and sets of lungs might make a difference over a long voyage.

Apart from the hadozee, the rest of the crew seemed more stimulated than disheartened by the news that the voyage might be risky. Or, more likely, Teldin thought cynically, it's the fact that they're getting paid twice what they expected that's making the difference.

Several of the crew had approached Teldin personally to thank him for leveling with them, for giving them the chance to decide whether or not to put their lives at risk. Further, they'd insisted on taking him out for a glass of sage-coarse-which had quickly become several glasses-at a strange little tavern on Starfall called The Philosophers' Rest. Surrounded by sages, metaphysicians, and philosophers- and a healthy number of would-be intellectuals-all discussing and arguing over contentions that had sounded meaningless to Teldin, they'd repeatedly toasted their captain's health.

It was surprising, the Cloakmaster had thought at the time; most captains must just keep their crews in the dark. But he couldn't have done that. He had an ethical and moral responsibility to them. He had to give them the chance to chart the courses of their own lives.

There was only one crewman who hadn't responded in any way that Teldin had expected. Instead of being pleased that he was getting paid double, he'd been surprised, even outraged, that Teldin had even considered it necessary. That man was Beth-Abz.

Beth-Abz. He was a strange one. Teldin hadn't experienced any repetition of the strange "revelations," if that's what they were, but then he hadn't been close to the man often. No, the Cloakmaster could only judge Beth-Abz's characteristics based on the reactions of others. Those reactions painted a strange portrait.

Even several weeks into the voyage, he still didn't seem to fit in-in any way-with the rest of the crew. The others on the same watch avoided him as much as they could and never spoke to him unless they absolutely had to. That would have bothered another man, but Beth-Abz seemed oblivious. Or maybe he was grateful; he showed no desire to talk to his crewmates either.

The broad-shouldered man was on the forecastle at the moment. He was supposed to be greasing the central bearing of the catapult turret, Teldin remembered, but the bucket of fish oil and the long-handled brush lay on the deck, while Beth-Abz stood against the port rail, staring off into the depths of space. The gunner's mate-Allyn, a weather-tanned, aging man who reminded Teldin of a piece of chewed leather-was rubbing linseed oil into the catapult's shaft, occasionally stopping to shoot venomous glances at the big warrior's back.

I've got to do something about this, Teldin told himself. He knew that Djan had already spoken to Beth-Abz, but the first mate's lecture obviously hadn't taken. Maybe what was needed was a dressing down from the captain himself.

"Hey." Teldin called to one of the crewmen passing below him on the main deck. When the fellow looked up, the captain pointed forward. "Get Beth-Abz," he ordered. "Send him to my cabin immediately." From the crewman's smile, quickly hidden, he knew he was doing the right thing. Beth-Abz was bad for morale, and one of the major lessons Teldin had learned from Aelfred Silverhorn was the importance of morale aboard ship.

Teldin climbed down the ladder to the main deck and headed forward into the forecastle. Julia sat in the saloon, eating a late dawnfry. "Got a minute?" he asked her as he passed. "I've got to speak with a friend of yours." Without waiting for an answer, he walked through into his own quarters.

She followed him, shutting the door behind him. "Beth-Abz?" Her tone made it more statement than question. Teldin nodded.

A knock sounded at the door. Hastily, Teldin sat down at one end of the table, indicated for Julia to sit to his right. "Come in," he called.

The door opened to reveal Beth-Abz. The big warrior seemed to fill the low doorway. "Captain?" he said in his rough, emotionless voice.

"Sit down." Teldin pointed to the seat at the opposite end of the table from him.

As the black-haired man seated himself, Teldin watched him with undisguised curiosity. There's something about him I don't understand, the Cloakmaster told himself, something that makes him seem alien. Was it his eyes, maybe?

Teldin focused his attention on the man's face.

His skin was smooth, without a trace of wrinkles; there weren't even squint lines around the eyes. And the man's eyes themselves were so pale as to be virtually colorless, "spit-colored" as some friends had once used the term. But it wasn't just the color, was it? It was their unusual steadiness, the way they fixed on a single point without shifting around as most people's did. Teldin realized he was leaning forward involuntarily, trying to get a better look at those eyes.

The image struck him without warning-struck him so hard it forced a gasp from his throat. For an instant, perception that wasn't quite sight overlaid his vision of Beth-Abz. His mind was again filled with an impression of daggerlike teeth, but now to that image was added a churning mass of something that could be tentacles, and a single, staring eye.

He reared back in his seat. As suddenly as it had come, the vision was gone.

He felt pressure on his left arm. Julia had grabbed his biceps, and was staring into his face. "Teldin… ?" she asked.

The Cloakmaster drew a hand over his eyes. There was no doubt about that, was there? That was definitely an image provided by the cloak.

He forced himself to take a deep breath, let his muscles relax, and listened to his heartbeat slow back to some semblance of normalcy. He looked at Beth-Abz again, bracing himself for a resurgence of the magical image. But this time all he saw was a large, handsome man.

He struggled to keep his voice calm as he said, "You're not really as you seem, are you?"

If the big man gave any response, it was too subtle for Teldin to spot it. "It's over," the Cloakmaster said, more harshly. Julia looked at him as though he were crazy, but he pressed on. "We're not buying it anymore. Drop your disguise now."

For almost half a minute, the only sound Teldin could hear was the pounding of his own heart. Beth-Abz's colorless eyes-unmoving, unblinking-were fixed on his. Teldin could almost sense the intensity of the man's thoughts. Beth-Abz's expression gave no indication when he reached his decision, but the moment was impossible to miss.

The lines and contours of the burly warrior's body shifted, like flowing water. His limbs withdrew into his body, and his body itself shortened and broadened. The chair he'd been sitting in scraped across the floor, pushed back from the table by his new bulk. His head, too, was reabsorbed into the bloated body, to be replaced by multiple, writhing processes that extended upward. As the outline changed, so too did the figure's texture and color. The man's clothes vanished as though they'd been, absorbed into his flesh through his pores. Then the skin thickened, shifted, and cracked into what looked like discrete scales. A mouth opened in the center of the swollen body, and above it lay a great, staring eye.

The transition took only an instant. Even before it was complete, however, Julia was on her feet, a short sword seeming to sprout magically from her hand. She tried to interpose herself between Teldin and what Beth-Abz was becoming.

The Cloakmaster grabbed her left arm, gestured her to be calm. Unwillingly she obeyed, lowering her shining blade.

Although his heart was beating so hard he imagined the crew could hear it like a slave galley's drum, Teldin remained seated. He struggled to keep the rush of terror he felt from showing on his face.

Beth-Abz was a beholder, an "eye tyrant." Teldin had seen only two, one on the Rock of Bral and one on the cluster world of Garden. The former had been dead and stuffed, mounted over the door of a tavern. The latter, though, had been alive… and lethal. The Cloakmaster remembered with a chill the destruction the beholder had caused with the magical blasts it could create. Teldin felt his muscles tensing, as though that could possibly save him when the creature lashed out with its power.

But…

It could have killed me at any time, Teldin realized, but it didn't. Why would it do so now? He let himself relax a degree and observed the creature silently.

The bulk of its body was roughly spherical, maybe five feet in diameter. Teldin guessed that that body might weigh about six hundred pounds. But, then, weight doesn't mean much, does it? he reminded himself. The beholder was. floating in the air so that its center was about four feet off the ground. The body was covered with discrete plates of what looked like hardened skin and were colored a dark brown-green. In the center of the body, facing Teldin, was a single enormous, lidless eye the size of a dinner plate. Bloodshot white surrounded an almost colorless-"spit-colored"-iris, in the center of which was a horizontal, slit-shaped pupil. And beneath the eye was a great, loose-lipped mouth. Although the mouth was closed, the way the lips bulged clearly showed that it was full of teeth the size of small daggers. Sprouting from the top of the body were ten armored and segmented protrusions, like the legs of lobsters or spiders, almost as long as Teldin's arm, each tipped with a single small eye no larger than a man's fist. While the central eye was fixed, steady and unblinking, on the Cloakmaster, the ten smaller eyes moved constantly, tracking around the room, making a sickening, faint clicking as their joints flexed.

''Who…" Teldin's voice cracked. Four of the small eyes pivoted to focus on him. He took a deep breath, and forced control. "Who are you?' he demanded.

"I am Beth-Abz," the beholder stated. Its voice was low-pitched, slow, blurred, hard to understand. That's how a swamp would sound if it could talk, Teldin told himself. "Beth-Abz." the creature repeated, "of the clan Beth, of the nation Gurrazh-Ahr." It paused. When it spoke again, its voice was less certain-tentative, almost, Teldin thought. "You saw through my disguise. How is this?"

Teldin blinked in surprise. From what other people had told him about beholders, they weren't given to asking questions. If something puzzled them, or confounded them, they tended to blow it apart so they wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. He shrugged. "I have my ways," he said vaguely. "But I'm asking the questions. What are you doing on my ship?"

"You already know my reasons," the beholder said slowly. "I have already told this one"-with a pair of eyestalks, Beth-Abz indicated Julia-"the details of my travels."

"That was the truth, then?" Teldin demanded. "You expect us to believe that?"

The beholder's ten eyestalks moved in unison, a strange, circular gesture. The creature's equivalent of a shrug? Teldin wondered. "I would have no reason to tell you an untruth," Beth-Abz pronounced simply.

"All that you told me about crewing on various ships," Julia cut in, "you're trying to tell me you did all that' You?" She gestured vaguely at the spherical shape across the table.

"It is as I said."

"Why in human form?" she demanded.

Beth-Abz chuckled-a horrible, burbling sound like swamp gas rising from the bottom of a fetid marsh. "Would humans and their kin sail with me otherwise?"

Teldin nodded slowly. He understood the rationale; it was much the same that Estriss the mind flayer had discussed with him long ago.

But there were still things that the Cloakmaster didn't understand. He didn't know much about beholders, but he had heard travelers' tales. "What about your clan?" he asked. "What about clan Beth? Why did you leave it? Or does it still exist?"

"Clan Beth is still in existence," Beth-Abz admitted, "as is nation Gurrazh-Ahr." The creature paused-uncomfortably,

Teldin thought. "I broke with my clan," the beholder continued slowly, "something that young such as myself do only with serious provocation."

Teldin leaned forward, fascinated. "What provocation?"

"It is hard to explain, and I would not expect any to understand it."

"Try me," Teldin suggested.

Again the beholder's eyestalks made their circular gesture. "The way of nation Gurrazh-Ahr is obedience and loyalty," Beth-Abz explained, "to the clan, and to the hive mother- the ultimate. The existence of an individual is subordinated to the existence of the clan, and the existence of the clan to the existence of the nation. I found that… intolerable.

"There is more to the universe than blind obedience," the beholder continued. Its voice had taken on a new tone, one that Teldin interpreted as doubt, as struggling with a concept that came hard for the creature. "I wished to experience that 'more.'" Again it paused. "I understood what my destiny should be within my clan and wished for another existence. I left my hive some time ago. My clan and my nation consider me a rogue, a renegade-by definition insane for placing my own needs above those of my kin. Yet…

"It is an insanity I find I relish." Once more it gestured with its eyestalks. "I would not expect you to understand."

Teldin shook his head slowly, a sad half smile on his face. On the contrary, he thought, I understand all too well… if what you're saying is the truth. He took a different tack. "What do you know about the Spelljammer?" he asked sharply.

"What any sentient in the universe knows," Beth-Abz answered. "That it is the subject of myth and legend, perhaps the largest and most powerful vessel to ply the space-ways. More powerful than the largest tyrant ship, more powerful even than nation Gurrazh-Ahr's entire fleet. Some of the false nations among those not of the true ideal covet it, I know that also."

Teldin wasn't sure he grasped the nuances of what the beholder was saying, but he thought he understood enough. "And what about nation Gurrazh-Ahr?" he asked. "And clan Beth? Do they covet it?"

"I can no longer speak for my clan or my nation," Beth-Abz said slowly, and this time the sadness in the creature's voice was unmistakable. "I no longer have clan or nation. I can speak only for myself, and I would as soon covet an entire crystal sphere as the Spelljammer, for the chances of obtaining either are nonexistent."

The Cloakmaster was silent, lost in thought. He watched his fingers stroking the heavy grain of the tabletop. Then he raised his gaze back to the beholder. "What would you say if I told you that I sought to captain the Spelljammer?" he asked quietly. He heard Julia's gasp of shock, but forced himself to ignore her.

With a chorus of clicks, all ten of Beth-Abz's eyestalks pivoted around to focus on Teldin. "I would say your insanity is even greater than mine," the creature said at once. "Yet I would also say that your destiny is your own, Captain, and the direction of your life is yours to choose." It paused. "I would also say that I would relish a chance to glimpse the Spelljammer," it finished wistfully.

Good answer, Teldin told himself. It has the ring of truth. But can I trust this thing?

Yet what good would distrusting Beth-Abz do? He remembered what he'd heard about beholders, that each of its smaller eyes could direct blasts of destruction, and that its central eye could emit a ray capable of suppressing all magical activity. If it wanted me dead, I'd be dead already, he thought again. If it wanted the cloak, it could kill me and take it off my body, and the entire crew of the Boundless couldn't stop it. Or it could simply suppress the magic of the cloak and take it from my shoulders. (Now there was a thought….)

But Beth-Abz hadn't done any of those things. What possible benefit could it gain from deceiving him? Teldin wondered.

He watched the beholder silently. All of its eyes were still fixed on him, as it watched him in return.

The creature was terrifying, its potential for destruction impossible to estimate. In form it was a monster… but, Teldin found, he wasn't thinking of it as a monster. Maybe his time with Estriss, and his exposure to other sentient races that humans might consider monsters, had burned that atavistic, instinctive reaction out of him. Beth-Abz was a thinking, feeling creature. A potential threat, yes-but also a potential ally of great power. And-who knew?-maybe a potential friend.

The Cloakmaster nodded as he made his decision. "Will you sail with me, Beth-Abz?" he asked. "Will you accept my authority as captain?"

"I have already done so." The hideous creature's response seemed guileless.

Teldin laid both hands flat on the table before him. "You are part of my crew, Beth-Abz," he said quietly. From the corner of his eye he could see Julia's look of disbelief. Yet almost at once he saw her suppress her reaction, saw her shoulders relax as she accepted his decision.

Before him, the lines of the beholder shimmered again as it began its shift back to human form.

"No," Teldin said sharply. The transformation ceased; the beholder returned to its spherical form. "No," the captain repeated, "you'll keep your true shape. I don't want any more deception on this ship. I've had enough of deception."

He turned to Julia. "Please spread the word about our… um… new crew member."

Again Julia stared at him as though he'd lost his mind. "It's going to be a hard sell, Teldin," was all she said.

He shot her a reassuring smile. "Then think of the satisfaction when you succeed."