Teldin took an involuntary step backward and felt the ship's rail press against his spine. Nowhere to run, his fear told him. He was flanked to left and right by members of the hammer-ship's crew. Nothing was actively hostile in their manner, but there was certainly nothing welcoming either. The harsh sunlight of space glinted off knives and daggers and illuminated hard and scar-etched faces.
Ahead of him, the captain-the monster-drew closer. You're dead. Dead, dead… The words hammered in the back of Teldin's brain. Images from childhood stories and horror tales flashed through his mind. He saw his own death, his head held immobile while writhing tentacles peeled away his skull like the shell of a hard-boiled egg. He felt his legs tense of their own volition, ready to heave him backward over the gunwale. Better the long, dizzying fall into nothingness than that ultimate obscenity….
You have nothing to fear.
The voice was quiet, but as clear as the tone of a flute, completely unaccented. Teldin looked around wildly for the one who'd spoken. No one had moved: neither Dana nor Horvath, nor the crew of the monster's vessel. His gaze snapped back to the tentacled creature.
It raised a three-fingered hand, and Teldin flinched. The rail slammed into the small of his back, and for a moment his balance wavered. The firm hand of a crewman grasped his shoulder then, not painfully or threateningly, merely to steady him.
The clear voice sounded again, I repeat, you have nothing to fear. This time the voice was accompanied by an almost subliminal tingle within Teldin's skull, a momentary feeling of coolness a finger's breadth behind his left eyebrow. He stared at the monster. Although there was no change in its expression-if a thing with tentacles instead of a face could be said to have an expression-its gaze no longer looked threatening or even intense, merely curious.
What is your name? This time Teldin was sure of what he'd only just begun to suspect. The "voice" was sounding directly in his mind.
With a supreme effort, he forced control on his body, slowing and deepening his breathing, releasing the tension in his chest. "Teldin," he whispered. "Teldin Moore."
Teldin Moore, the mental voice repeated. I welcome you aboard the good ship Probe, Teldin. Tentacles moved in an intricate and graceful pattern-a gesture of greeting? My name is "Estriss."
It took Teldin a moment-and the startled reaction of the two gnomes beside him-to realize that the creature had spoken the last word aloud. Its voice was sharp and thin, a hissing sound more like the warning cry of a lizard or snake than the speech of a warm-blooded creature. But, of course, it's probably nor warm-blooded, he thought with a shudder. "Estriss," he repeated.
Correct. The cool words formed inside his head once more. Translated into your language, the name means "Thought Taker.'
"Thought… Taker?"
That is how my own people know me. Teldin felt a touch of something that could be humor-albeit cold and detached- in the monster's statement. It is not as bad as it sounds. I am a philosopher, a student of the universe. I learn from others, borrow from their wisdom and learning. Thus 'Thought Taker' Estriss. Do you understand?
Teldin nodded dumbly. His trip-hammer heartbeat was slowing back to some semblance of normality, and, as before, Teldin was dully surprised at how fast his body seemed to be able to recover from shock so great that he should be curled into a gibbering, fetal ball. Was his resilience, he was coming to wonder, something to do with the cloak that was now just a strip of fabric around his neck. "What… what are you?" It took a conscious effort to force the question from his lips.
The name we use for ourselves has no cognate-no equivalent-in your symbology, the monster explained silently. To some we are known as illithids. To others, mind flayers. You have not heard of us? There was no expression in the creature's eyes, but Teldin somehow sensed what could be mild disappointment as he shook his head. No matter, the "illithid" continued. What was your destination?
Teldin glanced over at Horvath, but the gnome made no reaction. Apparently he hadn't "heard" Estriss's question.
"I don't know," Teldin answered honestly… then wondered why he'd bothered to speak aloud. Surely the illithid could read his thoughts without the clumsy intermediary of speech. He concentrated, willing Estriss to respond. But after a few seconds of no reaction, he said out loud, "You can't read my mind?"
Only when you speak. Forming the words focuses your thoughts enough forme to sense them. I have no need to hear the words, nor do I have to understand the language. But the action of speech must be there, and the communication must be intended for me. Have no fear. Your secrets are safe should you wish to keep them. The illithid gestured around it with a strangely articulated hand. The Probe's destination is Toril, in Realmspace. You and your comrades-here the gnomes looked up, startled, as though only now hearing Estriss's words-are welcome to work off your passage as members of my crew. I would be glad to number you among them, particularly since your ship seems to have deserted you. Or, if you wish, you can be returned to Krynn….
"No!" Teldin was surprised by the force of his own voice.
Estriss was taken aback, too, if the sudden tilt to the creature's head was any indication.
Teldin cursed himself silently. He was a fugitive, and fugitives shouldn't draw attention to their plight. The gnomes had taken him aboard knowing he was being pursued-and look what happened to so many of them, his guilt interjected-but this mind flayer might decide that a fugitive represented too great a risk and return him to Krynn against his will… or simply kill him.
The illithid just nodded its head-a surprisingly human gesture. So be it, then, the cool voice rang in Teldin's brain. My first mate will assign your quarters and duties.
Aelfred Silverhorn stepped forward. "All right, you lot," he said, not unkindly. "Follow me and we'll get you squared away."
"Wait," Teldin interrupted. "The others…"
"The wounded are already below," the first mate answered. He patted Teldin's shoulder in a comradely manner. "Don't worry. We'll take good care of your, uh, men."
Dana snorted but, to Teldin's relief, made no comment. Horvath gave him a friendly wink as they followed Aelfred's broad figure. Teldin stopped at the head of the companionway that would lead him belowdecks and glanced back at Estriss. The illithid was watching him… and a smaller figure was watching him, too. A tiny face, with green reptilian skin and stubs of horns on its brow, peered out from behind Estriss's robes. It must have been there all the time, Teldin realized, whatever it was.
Aelfred reappeared in the companionway. "Hoi," he called to Teldin. "You coming?"
"Sorry," Teldin mumbled, and he turned to follow the first mate.
Aelfred glanced past Teldin at the illithid and shrugged. "You're the captain," he said in answer to an unspoken order, then disappeared below.
Estriss's "voice" sounded in Teldin's mind again. You wonder about the kobold?
The mind flayer reached down and laid a red-purple hand on the small creature's head. It gazed up trustingly at its master and stepped out from behind the shelter of the illithid's robe. Teldin looked at the kobold with interest. It stood about three feet tall, with a squat, barrel-shaped body and short but powerful legs. Dressed in a coarsely woven jerkin-from under which protruded its vestigial tail-it resembled some twisted parody of a human child. Once more it turned its trusting eyes on Estriss, and it took a fold of the illithid's robe in its short-fingered hand.
I charmed it, Estriss explained.
"Why?"
The illithid gestured with its tentacles in what might be its equivalent of a shrug. It is my food, it replied. When I hunger, I will eat its brain.
The kobold calmly squatted down on the deck, still holding on to the robe as a child might cling to its parent's clothing for comfort. Teldin stared at the kobold, then the illithid.
Kobolds are enemies of my kind as well as yours, Estriss's mental voice told him calmly.
"But…"
Estriss's words took on a sharper edge. Better that I should eat your brain? The mind flayer looked down at the kobold and stroked its scaled head once more. The small creature responded with a short, unintelligible phrase-its voice reminded Teldin of a small dog yapping-and scurried away, to vanish belowdecks. Teldin watched it disappear, his thoughts an uncomfortable mixture of emotions.
Come. The illithid had turned away and was walking toward the afterdeck of the hammership, obviously expecting Teldin to do likewise.
Teldin followed slowly. The illithid climbed the ladder to the raised sterncastle, Teldin at its heels. The creature settled itself against the aft rail and gazed out past the spanker sail. Teldin, too, leaned on the rail, a wary distance from the illithid. The planet of Krynn hung against the velvet blackness, like a large gibbous moon. The distance was too great for Teldin to pick out any details… and was growing greater with every heartbeat. Home was slipping inexorably away.
You are from Krynn. Teldin started when the liquid syllables formed in his brain.
"Yes," he replied.
Then how do you come to be aboard a gnomish sidewheeler- again there was that faint touch of detached humor-particularly one so fickle? The illithid turned and fixed him with its featureless white eyes. I ask only out of curiosity, I intend no insult, but I think you have no familiarity with ships, or with wildspace. Is that so?
Teldin hesitated, wondering exactly how much to tell the creature.
You flee something, I feel.
It was Teldin's turn to stare at the illithid. Can it read my mind? he asked himself. It-Estriss-had said it couldn't, but how far could he trust such a monstrous being? "Yes," he said at last.
It must be something you fear greatly. Wildspace is rarely a safe haven… as you know from recent experience. The illithid shrugged its shoulders-a human gesture, but one that brought home to Teldin how… alien… its body structure was. Bones jutted under the robe in anomalous places, like a man who'd had both his collarbones-and maybe his neck- broken. He shuddered, an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.
Well, the illithid continued, turning its gaze once more to the planet falling ever farther astern, I trust you will tell me sometime, when you feel more comfortable in my presence. The mental voice fell silent for a moment, then continued. You fear me, is that not so? You see me as a monster?
"Yes," Teldin answered truthfully. "You're so… different. We were told… When I was growing up…" He wasn't sure how to continue. "I was taught to fear things that were different," he finished lamely.
How typical of so many small minds, Estriss replied, a quiet, speculative quality to the illithid's "voice." Generalizations are often dangerous. Some of my kind prey on humans, that is true, but then, so do some humans: pirates, bandits, marauders, those who attacked you, for example. Would it do to judge all humans based on the actions of a few? While some planet-bound illithids consider humans as cattle, I think you are not of the cattle. I think you know much. I think you have many stories. I would like-the humor was back again-I would like to take your thoughts. Not now, perhaps, but at some point in our voyage together. I would like to hear your stories. And you may take my thoughts in return. It seems to me that we might each have something to teach die other. The illithid lapsed into mental silence.
Teldin cast a sidelong glance at the creature. Estriss, he mused. What could you teach me? To stay alive? But at what cost? Then he paused. The creature beside him was a braineater-it had admitted it-and showed neither pride nor shame in the admission. It was alien, yes… but was it a monster? Monsters don't discuss the philosophy of prejudice, nor offer to exchange tales. He'd have to think about this.
The illithid stirred again, its blank eyes still on the distant planet. Why do you travel into wildspace? it asked. For a particular reason? Or just because wildspace is not Krynn?
More than ever, Teldin was convinced that the mental tone of the last phrase was the creature's expression of humor. But it was still a question he didn't feel comfortable answering. Or was it the answer itself that made him uncomfortable? "Why are you heading to Realmspace?" he countered.
If the illithid cared about-or even noticed-Teldin's blunt attempt to change the subject, it gave no sign. Again it gave a broken-backed shrug. I have business on Toril, Estriss replied. The city of Rauthaven, if you know of it. There is an auction of items… The mental voice paused-almost shyly, it seemed to Teldin.
"Items… ?" he prompted, interested. What would a mind flayer be embarrassed about?
My life's work. Perhaps-if it interests you-we could discuss it… at a later date….
Teldin looked at the creature beside him with renewed interest. Monsters don't want to discuss prejudice. They don't have a sense of humor… and they certainly don't get embarrassed talking about their life's work.
Well. Estriss's mental voice was brisk again. I must discuss our course with the helmsman. We can continue our conversation later if you wish.
Teldin nodded. "I'd enjoy that," he said… and he was telling the truth.
*****
Belowdecks on the Probe was quite different from on the Unquenchable. The overheads were higher-Teldin wasn't putting his skull at risk whenever he moved-but the companionways were much more cramped. Certainly there was nothing like the little "snug" where Horvath had drawn him a pint of ale. The companionways and ladders-and what few compartments had their doors open-were scrupulously clean and uncluttered and showed no signs of the spontaneous "modifications" that the gnomes seemed to make as a matter of course.
One of the hammership's crew-the thin youth Aelfred had called Lon-tried to brush past him, but Teldin stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. "Where are… where's my crew?" he asked, trying to inject into his voice the confidence that he had heard in Aelfred's.
The boy gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. "Guest cabin," he said.
Teldin frowned. That wasn't much help. "Well, where-" he started.
"Port side, by the mainmast," Lort cut in impatiently. The youth shook off Teldin's hand and hurried on.
Teldin sighed. He didn't seem to have made the impression on the boy that he'd hoped.
Once he was heading in the right direction, it wasn't difficult to find the gnomes. Even from a distance he could hear Dana's sharp voice railing about something or other, and all he had to do was follow the sound.
The "guest cabin" was small and cramped-maybe ten feet long by half that wide-and obviously intended to house only one guest. It was made even more claustrophobic by the fact that two hammocks had been slung from brackets on the walls. His four shipmates were there. Miggins and Saliman lay in the hammocks-both conscious and apparently out of danger, he was glad to see-while Horvath sat comfortably on a folded sail. Dana, fists on her hips, paced the width of the compartment.
"Now it would be much better all around if you were to just calm down, Danajustiantorala," Horvath was saying at breakneck speed. "You know very well there's nothing we can do at the moment, and…" He broke off as he saw Teldin enter. "Well, well," he said, jumping to his feet. "Don't just stand there in the doorway. Come in and join us."
Teldin grasped his friend's offered hand and squeezed it warmly. Even though he'd tentatively decided that he didn't have anything to fear among the hammership's crew, he felt much more comfortable in the presence of the gnomes. He reached out and patted Miggins on the shoulder. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better," the young gnome replied with a grin. "They gave me some kind of potion, listed like… well, like something pretty awful if you want to know the truth, but it did the job." He moved his wounded shoulder experimentally. "It's still stiff, but it doesn't hurt much anymore."
Teldin nodded. "And Saliman?"
The gnomish cleric lay motionless on his hammock, an unfocused gaze on the ceiling. "Saliman?" Horvath prompted.
"Head hurts," Saliman said, with a totally ungnomish abruptness that indicated just how much pain he must be in.
"He'll be all right," Horvath finished. "They've treated us well." Dana snorted, but Horvath paid no attention. "Do you know the ship's destination?"
Teldin seated himself on a stack of folded blankets. The gnomes-even Saliman-were looking at him, waiting for his answer. "The Probe is going to Realmspace," he told them. "Horvath, what about the Unquenchable?"
The gnome sighed. "We were talking about that," he said. "There were still two pirate ships left and no guarantee that the Unquenchable will even survive."
"It'll survive," Dana muttered fiercely under her breath.
Horvath fixed her with a hard, steady gaze, and the younger gnome seemed almost to wilt under it. "No, Dana," he said flatly, "now is the time for realism, not false bravado. I say there's no guarantee the Unquenchable will survive, and you know that to be true as well as I. Even if the ship wins through, what do we do? Can we get back aboard her?" The diminutive figure shoved his fists deep into his pockets. Teldin could feel the pain this was bringing him, but the gnome kept his voice steady. "We could wait on the longboat and hope the Unquenchable comes back to find us before the air runs out. Or we could search for the Unquenchable, or for her wreckage, but Krynnspace is big. And that's if our fellows even stay within this sphere.
"Or we could go back down to the surface-" he smiled grimly "-but I don't think Teldin would be alone in his opposition to that. What say you to that?" There was no answer. Horvath continued, "Or we can stay aboard the… the Probe, you called it? Aye, the Probe. And we can travel to Toril aboard a solid ship. Not to say that it couldn't do with a few improvements, of course," he added with a grin. "What say you?"
Teldin spoke up. "Estriss-he's the captain-says we'd be welcome as crew members."
"Estriss," Dana snorted. "You're getting very chummy with that brain-eating monster, aren't you, now?"
Horvath turned to Teldin, pointedly ignoring Dana's comment. "That big fellow, Aelfred something. Now, he made us the same offer. I know, I'm like the rest of you-" he fixed each of the other gnomes with his gaze "-I'm wanting to get back aboard the Unquenchable with my own kind. But I don't see any way we can do that. Teldin, do you trust these big folk?"
Teldin was silent a moment. He remembered his brief conversation with Aelfred Silverhorn aboard the gnomish longboat. He'd felt some kind of kinship there, a strength tempered by a sense of balance. "Yes," he said.
"And the captain, the mind flayer? Do you trust it?"
The pause was longer this time. Teldin felt the responsibility, a tightness across his shoulders and the back of his neck. If he was wrong, he could be dooming the four gnomes as well as himself. But still, he knew what his answer would have to be. Monsters don't discuss philosophy.
"I trust Estriss," he answered.
Horvath nodded. "And I trust Teldin." He squared his shoulders. "I will sail to Realmspace with the Probe. How say you all? Saliman?"
"Aye."
"I'll stay," volunteered Miggins.
"Dana?" Horvath fixed her with his sharp gaze.
The woman dropped her eyes. "That mate," she grumbled, "he wants us to take up duties."
Teldin's patience had worn thin from Dana's surly manner. "What's wrong with that?" he snapped. "By the gods, they saved us, remember that. The wasp ship wasn't their fight. If, in return, we have to work like any other member of the crew, that's the least we can do." He saw the surprise in Dana's eyes and turned away.
Horvath laid a calming hand on his shoulder. "I'm with Teldin," he said quietly. "What he says only makes sense. Am I right?" Saliman and Miggins nodded. "Danajustiantorala, am I right?"
Dana didn't meet his gaze. "Aye," she grumbled.
"Very well, then." Horvath clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "Teldin, maybe you wish to tell the captain that his new crew members are ready to take up their duties- when you see fit, of course."
Teldin climbed to his feet. Something had changed in his relationship with the gnomes. He'd started to feel it in the last minutes aboard the longboat, but now it was even more pronounced. There was a change in Horvath's tone when the gnome talked to him, a change to the look in Miggins's eyes. Teldin hadn't sought this development, but it was definitely there. "I'll talk to Aelfred," he said.
"Teldin."
He turned. It was Saliman who'd spoken, the first time he'd actually addressed Teldin. "Yes, Saliman?"
"I…" The cleric hesitated. "Teldin, I need a quiet time each day for my devotions," he said quietly. "Could you, maybe, ask if… Well, could my duties be… ?"
"I'll talk to Aelfred." With that, Teldin felt the mantle of leadership for the small group-subtly but nonetheless surely-transferred to his own shoulders.
*****
Aelfred Silverhorn was on the hammership's sterncastle, seated comfortably on the box that contained the shot for the Probe's aft catapult. The larger man watched as Teldin climbed the starboard ladder, and he greeted him with a lopsided smile. "And how is your, er, your crew?" he asked with a touch of irony.
"Well," Teldin replied. He settled himself against the stem rail. "I'd like to thank you," he went on. "The two wounded men, you treated them kindly."
Aelfred waved the thanks away with a scarred hand. "What would you have us do?" he asked. "Ignore them? And have the young one bleed himself white all over the deck? We're not enemies-" a chuckle rumbled deep in his throat "- though that's not what the woman thinks. You might want to keep an eye on that one." He shifted his weight, and the wooden box creaked. "Tell me," he said, "you're from Krynn? Born there?"
"Krynn's always been my home," Teldin answered. Was this burly warrior going to ask the same uncomfortable questions as the illithid? he wondered.
"I've never been there," Aelfred mused. "Not that I haven't wanted to. We heard about the wars, you know. News of war always spreads fast. I even thought of taking passage there, see if I could get a commission, command a small unit. But…" He grinned. "The people of Krynn seem to have settled their own problems without my help. I thought when we came to this shell that I might at least have a chance to do some sightseeing, but the captain had his own plans, and we never came closer than one of the moons of Zivilyn. Apart from just recently, of course."
Teldin leaned forward with interest. "Why was Estriss interested in Zivilyn?" he asked.
The first mate shrugged his broad shoulders. "Research," he replied. "You two have been, urn, talking, right? Didn't he tell you what he's up to?"
"Not really."
Aelfred grinned. "Surprising. He's always bending my ear about it… so to speak."
"Then…?"
"Estriss is a historian," Aelfred said. "He's always knocking about the universe, looking for clues to some lost race. He calls them the Juna." The large man shrugged again. "The only schooling I got was at my own hands, so I don't really understand much of what he's talking about, but he's all fired up about it."
"Is that why we're going to Realmspace?"
"That's it. He thinks he's going to find some artifacts that can prove one of his pet theories. Truth be told, I think his ideas are all starshine and fertilizer, but then I don't really care one way or the other. I'm glad to be going home, even if it's just for a few days. It's been a long time."
"How long?"
"Almost a year, this trip," Aelfred replied. "Not to say we haven't made planetfall in all that time. We've put down on more worlds than I care to count. I can tell you some stories-" He stopped himself and grinned. "Now it's going to be me that bends your ear. Tell me," he said again, "were you in the wars?"
"Yes," Teldin answered… then added, "Well, in name, mainly. I was a mule skinner, nothing glamorous."
Aelfred snorted in disgust. "There's nothing glamorous about war. It's just a job."
"You're a mercenary, then?"
"That I am." There was no pride in the big warrior's voice; the phrase was just a flat statement of fact. "I've picked up my scars in-what?-half a dozen wars now, in half a dozen lands."
Teldin remembered the mercenaries he'd met on Krynn- most of them big-boned men like this one, full of swaggering pride and an endless supply of stories. "It must be an interesting life."
"Interesting?" the large warrior scoffed, "like hell it's an interesting life. It's crushingly boring. Hard, tedious… Weeks of boredom interspersed with hours of abject terror. You get hardened to the whole thing, but the fear never goes away. To die Nine Hells with the fools who think it's glorious." He grinned wryly. "Not the fabulous tales you expect? I'll tell you, Teldin Moore. The mercenaries who survive are the ones who treat it like a business. Let the other men be the glory hounds and die for their countries. Good mercenaries don't learn from their mistakes. They learn from other people's mistakes. Tell me." He fixed Teldin with his cool blue eyes. "You fought a pirate ship and you won, and you'll have to tell me about that sometime. Was that glorious, or were you just scared?"
There was no need to answer. Teldin just smiled thinly and nodded.
Aelfred thumped Teldin on the shoulder with a fist the size of a small ham. "That's what it's like being a mercenary," he said flatly. "Just as glorious to be a mule skinner. In other words, not at all."
Teldin seated himself more comfortably on the rail. Despite his natural caution, he found himself liking this burly warrior.
There was something disarming about his easy familiarity and the honest warmth in his booming voice. "How did you come to be here?" he asked.
His new friend smiled. "Let's just say I was between engagements," he said. "I had a… call it a difference of opinion with my commanding officer over some back wages I was owed. He decided he wasn't going to pay me what I was owed and thought he'd terminate my commission with a broadsword." Aelfred grimaced. "Drunken bastard. I lost my best dagger when I didn't have time to pull it out of his neck."
Aelfred was warming to his tale. "So there I was in West-gate, with no money, no job to get money, and my one-time commander's criminal colleagues baying at my heels. I heard there was a ship of some strange design in the harbor and it was taking on crew, and I figured I could adapt easily enough to shipboard life. As they say, all bills are paid when you cast off from the dock. Of course," he mused with a smile, "it came as something of a shock when I met my captain… and when I learned the sailing we would be doing wasn't on the Inner Sea after all. I've been with the Probe for three years now, and I like it.
"I understand your story isn't too much different." Aelfred's voice was casual, but his ice-blue gaze was steady. When Teldin hesitated, he went on, "I believe that a man's background is his own to give out or not, as he sees fit. But your wounded crewman babbled while we were patching him up. Something about you being pursued, and you shipping out with the gnomes to get away. Is that the case?"
Teldin was silent for a moment. He trusted Aelfred, he decided, but there were still things he was uncomfortable talking about. Maybe when he'd sorted things out a little better in his own mind he could talk more freely. "Something like that," he answered.
Aelfred nodded, apparently unconcerned by Teldin's reticence. "If you're going to get yourself lost, there's no place like a ship in wildspace," he said, "as long as you can get yourself into the routine." He gave Teldin a sidelong glance. "Any bets as to whether that spitfire of yours-what's her name, Dana?-is going to get into the swing of things?"
Teldin grinned. "No bets, but I'll do what I can to make sure she tries."
Aelfred pounded Teldin's shoulder again good-humorediy. "Good." He paused. "I didn't know just what kind of duty to give your gnomes," he admitted after a moment. "They don't know the Probe, and I wanted to keep them away from anything they might try to, er, improve" Teldin smiled; it was obvious Aelfred shared his distrust of gnomish "improvements." "When the little one's better, I'll get him standing some watches, with your agreement. And the spitfire, I'll have her work with Bubbo, tuning the heavy weapons. If she figures out a way to aim a catapult at me, she deserves the results."
"I think she'll like that," Teldin said with a grin. "What about Horvath?"
Aelfred frowned. "He volunteered to help out in the galley," he said somewhat doubtfully. "Says he's a good cook. The problem is, I don't know much about gnomish food. Is he likely to serve us fricasseed rat or anything like that?"
Teldin thought back to the food he'd been served aboard the Unquenchable. The meals had mainly been vegetable stews or thick soups. The spices had been unfamiliar, but not at all unpleasant. "I don't think you have to worry," he said.
The ex-mercenary wasn't totally convinced. "We'll try it," he allowed, "but if he tries to 'improve' one of Dargo's recipes and ends up as the main course, on his own head be it. Now, about your cleric…"
"He asked me to find out if he could have some time every day for his devotions or whatever," Teldin put in.
"I'd thought about that," Aelfred told him. "I thought maybe I'd have him stand by to spell our helmsmen. Who knows, maybe he can even learn to steer by the stars and help out our navigator." The big man feigned a shudder. "You know the old saying, 'Better a hole in the hull than a gnome at the map table,' but I think Sylvie can keep him in line."
"And for me… ?"
Aelfred smiled broadly. "You can stand forward watches with me. When that Dana of yours wasn't railing at me, she was telling me how good you are with a crossbow." He leaned forward to poke an iron elbow into Teldin's ribs. "I think you've impressed the lady, Teldin my lad."
Teldin laughed out loud. "In your dreams," he responded.
*****
Routine aboard the good ship Probe was very different from that aboard the Unquenchable, Teldin found quickly. For one thing, there was a routine. For a ship in space, there's no such thing as night and day, but diurnal creatures such as humans operate best on a regular cycle of about twenty-four hours. Thus the ship's day was divided into three watches, each eight hours long. At any time of day or night the major crew positions were manned. There were always lookouts standing watch on forecastle and sterncastle, gunners always lounged about near their weapons turrets, and there were always at least two officers in the chart room within the hammership's bow. The crew included three helmsmen, so that one was always awake and sitting in the major helm positioned in the lower bridge. The forty-five crew members-fifty including Teldin and the gnomes-stood one watch in three so that all had sixteen hours for sleep and relaxation out of every twenty-four. The sole exceptions appeared to be Aelfred and Estriss, who seemed always to be on the bridge or wandering about the ship, and the helmsman and head navigator, Sylvie.
Teldin had seen Sylvie at a distance but hadn't yet had a chance to speak with her-a condition that he promised himself he'd remedy at the earliest opportunity. She was a half-elf, as slender and supple-looking as a willow tree. Her face was finely chiseled, with pale skin that was silken-smooth. Teldin had never seen her actually smile, but she always seemed just on the verge of doing so, and she had a habit of brushing her flowing silver hair back from her slightly pointed ears that he found somehow enchanting. Every time he found some excuse to visit the chart room on the cargo deck she was there, poring over some chart or other, or discussing the ship's course with Aelfred or Estriss.
Meals were served at eight-hour intervals, and there was no distinction between dawnfry, highsunfeast or evenfeast. How could there be, when one-third of the crew had just risen, one was in the midst of a watch, and the third was getting ready to bunk down? Crew members who were on watch ate meals at their stations; those who were off duty ate in the two galleys. One of these was situated in the stern, directly below the sterncastle turret, the other in the lobe that extended from the port side of the main deck near the bow. Although it was traditionally reserved for the officers and senior crew members, Aelfred had reassured Teldin that he was welcome to eat here when he wasn't standing watch. Teldin was glad to accept the invitation. The officer's galley-or "mess," as it would have been called in the army-boasted a large, oval port of thick glass. This was one of the "eyes" that Teldin had noticed when he'd first seen the ship, and it gave a spectacular view of the star-studded void through which the ship sailed. Teldin quickly discovered there was something almost magical about sitting in a warm, lantern-lit room while gazing out into the cold vastness of space. Whenever he wasn't on duty or asleep, he'd often find himself drawn either to the galley or to the officers' saloon on the opposite side of the ship.
The only member of the Probe's crew who never ate in either of the galleys was the captain himself. Estriss spent several hours each day in his private cabin, and what he did there was a matter of speculation among the crew. Some said he never slept, just spent his time poring over old scrolls and musty boob that he kept in a chest beneath his small desk. Others claimed that he spent his time in dreamless sleep, empty white eyes open, while he hung a hand's span above his bunk. The one thing that was never a subject of discussion was the captain's eating habits… particularly after the kobold was no longer seen around the ship.
In the forward galley, while enjoying two relaxing meals each day-which, to his surprise were unsurpassedly delicious-Teldin had the chance to meet and talk with other members of the crew. Although none was as outgoing toward him as Aelfred had been, he'd found two who were willing to pass time in conversation. One was Sweor Tobregdan, a mercenary warrior who'd joined the ship in much the same way as Aelfred-as an alternative to having his head part company with his neck-and was now second mate and directly below Aelfred in the Probe's chain of command.
The other was Vallus Leafbower. Vallus was a high elf who hailed from the world of Oerth, in Greyspace, and a wizard some power and repute. Although the elf seemed to prefer listening to speaking, Teldin had managed to extract the fact that he'd signed on aboard the Probe as helmsman simply because he was curious about the rest of the universe. "After five hundred years of exploring the world of Oerth," the white-haired elf had told him in his quiet voice, "I came to realize that another five hundred would be insufficient to learn all there was to know about my home. I looked up into the sky and knew there were other worlds out there. It was then that I decided it would please me more to know something of many worlds than everything of one."
Teldin's eight-hour shift of duty usually involved standing on the bow platform next to the forward catapult, the gnomish crossbow in his hands, scanning the skies for potential enemies. It would have been stultifyingly boring if it weren't for conversation with other members of the crew. There was never any enemy for him to look out for and nothing at which to shoot his crossbow-which was just as well, he thought, since his first two accurate shots probably were nothing more than luck.
So it was, on the fourth day since joining the Probe's crew, that Teldin was standing at his duty station, leaning on the rail, and gazing at the planet Zivilyn as it was passing to starboard. It was Horvath who'd first mentioned this planet to Teldin, during his first days aboard the Unquenchable, and who'd described the gargantuan orb's wondrous beauty. At the time, Teldin had put the gnome's description down to an attempt to awe the "dirtkicker." Now he had to admit that Horvath hadn't done the world justice.
At this distance, Zivilyn filled almost half of Teldin's field of view, a massive globe streaked with all the colors of an insane painter's palette. Myriad bands, each its own hue, circled the planet. Some were broad stripes, others lines that looked as thin as a hair. The edges of the wider bands were rippled, turbulent, and some of the smaller striations seemed almost braided. Although no actual motion was visible-the ship was much too far away-the sensation of chaos, frenzied movement, and cataclysmic forces at work was almost overwhelming. In the upper hemisphere of the planet, near the right-hand limb, was a spiral that could only be a storm of some kind. Darker than the surrounding clouds, this vortex was made up of traces of many colors, blurred together like smeared paint. It was like the storm that Teldin had seen over Krynn as the gnomish dreadnought had climbed out of the atmosphere, and, in comparison to the diameter of the planet, looked hardly larger. Aelfred had told him, though, that the entire world of Krynn could vanish down the vortex of this storm without touching either side.
Zivilyn had twelve moons, he'd learned, perhaps even a thirteenth that had been sighted once but not yet had its position properly charted. Four of them were visible now, just as points of light that seemed brighter-and somehow nearer- than the stars. Each of those moons was a world in its own right, he'd been told, only slightly smaller than Krynn itself. If Krynn is a world scaled for humans, Teldin thought, then Zivilyn is a world for the gods themselves.
He set his crossbow down on the base of the bow catapult and crouched down to stretch the muscles in his thighs. One of his knees gave a disconcerting pop, and tendons complained at the unaccustomed effort. He swore quietly to himself. He'd always prided himself on his level of physical fitness. Working in the fields had strengthened the muscles, and his time in the army had proven what he'd always suspected: that a certain degree of conditioning could spell the difference between life and death. He'd never had to worry about actually exercising before; his daily life had provided all the exertion he'd really needed. But now there was precious little to do aboard ship but eat, sleep, and stand his watch. He'd noticed that several of the officers and crew were fighting a weight problem-in at least one case, a losing battle-and realized he might well face the same fate soon. How did Aelfred manage it? The burly warrior seemed no more active than Teldin, but his belly was hard and tight. And Sylvie, the navigator, appeared the least active of all, but there certainly didn't seem to be an ounce of fat anywhere on her body.
Teldin smiled and chuckled quietly to himself. Maybe he should just stroll down to the chart room and ask the striking half-elf how she kept herself so beautiful. After all, he justified, it would be in the ship's best interest if he learned how to keep himself at peak condition….
A hoarse scream of agony from above him shattered his comfortable musings. Quickly slinging the crossbow's carrying strap over his shoulder, he clambered up the ladder that led from the forward bridge to the forecastle.
The forecastle was a scene of chaos. In addition to the skeleton crew of two sailors who always manned the turret's heavy ballista, Estriss, Aelfred, and Sylvie were present. One of the ballista crew, a woman named Preema, was down, clutching a torn shoulder and screaming in agony. The others crouched, weapons drawn, scanning the skies above them.
Where was the enemy? What had wounded Preema-had virtually torn her arm from her torso?
Out of the corner of his eye, Teldin saw a fast-moving shape hurtling toward him. Instinctively he threw himself to the deck, simultaneously snapping the crossbow up to his shoulder and pulling the trigger.
He felt a rush of air as the shape rocketed by above his sprawling body, and rough skin grazed his shoulder. As the shape retreated, he saw it properly for the first time. It was a night-black shark, he thought, but a shark rendered by a madman. It was more than three times longer than a man's height, and its powerful body was proportionately broad. Its fins and tail seemed no different from those of the small mud sharks he'd occasionally seen on fishmongers' barrows in the marketplaces of Krynn, but its head… From its gill slits forward, the creature seemed all teeth-filled mouth and single glaring eye. The thing tore through the air, its body twisting in a grotesque mimicry of a swimming motion. Its speed was terrifying in a creature so large. It flashed away from the ship again, curving up and over the forecastle. Then, with an agility totally belying its mass, it turned end for end and drove back toward them in another high-speed pass. For an instant Teldin could see the fletching of his crossbow bolt, buried- apparently harmlessly-just behind the monster's gills, then he rolled aside into the shelter of the ballista turret.
The other gunner, the young man named Lort, crouched below the turret rail, his short sword clutched in a white-knuckled fist. As the monster rocketed past, he leaped to his feet and threw all his weight behind a thrust at the thing's head. But at the last instant, the creature twisted its body.
And Lort was gone. The youth's short sword clattered to the deck. The black space-shark soared away from the ship again, its great mouth making chewing motions. Blood streamed back along its flank, glistening in the harsh light of the distant sun. Teldin felt his gorge rise and tried to swallow the bitter taste of bile that filled his mouth. He rolled to the fallen sword and picked it up. The grip was slick with Lort's blood.
"Void scavver," Aelfred was saying. "Sylvie, can you… ?"
"I'll try," the woman answered. Amazingly, she climbed to her feet.
"No," Teldin croaked, but the woman paid him no mind.
The monster had turned again. Its mouth was empty; there was no sign of Lort, except for a red stain on its teeth. Again it steadied itself for a pass, this time from directly ahead of the vessel.
Sylvie faced the onrushing creature, her slender hands weaving a fluid pattern in the air before her. She hissed arcane syllables between her teeth and thrust her hands out toward the monster. Multicolored fire lashed out from her fingertips, striking the creature full in its hideous eye.
It shuddered, and for the first time it made a sound-a whistling shriek of pain-but still it came on. Sylvie was still standing, totally exposed, weaving her hands again as she struggled to put together another spell. There was no way she'd be able to get out of the way in time. Teldin looked at the creature's gaping maw and knew what he had to do.
As soon as the decision was made, he felt the cold, crystal clarity of thought that was becoming almost familiar. His time sense accelerated, and the monster seemed almost frozen in space. He had time to jump to his feet and take one, two steps across the forecastle and push the half-elf to the deck, then he turned to face the approaching scavver, clutching Lort's short sword before him in both hands, more a talisman than a weapon.
In his peripheral vision he could see Aelfred open his mouth to scream something-no doubt a warning-but it was too late for any warning. The scavver was almost upon him, filling almost all of his field of view. He knew he should feel terror, but somehow the emotion wouldn't come. His world was empty of anything that could interfere with thought or with volition.
The monster's mouth opened wider, preparing to snatch him the way it had snatched Lort, but at the last instant he flung himself to the deck. At the same time, as the huge mouth snapped shut on the empty air where his body had been a moment before, he thrust upward with the short sword. He felt the power in his arm muscles, felt the blade drive deep into firm flesh. Then the weapon was wrenched from his grasp. He felt a hard impact against his right hip, hard enough to tumble him over and over until he came to rest against Sylvie's prone body. Still seemingly in slow motion, the scavver arced over his head. Lort's short sword protruded from the underside of its throat, the weapon's cross-guard flush against the creature's skin. Green-black fluid pulsed from around the steel.
The scavver's inertia carried it forward, but it was obviously in serious trouble. It rolled to the right and started to drop. With a bubbling shriek it hurtled over the rear of the forecastle, barely missing the mainmast, and plummeted to the main deck below. With his still-accelerated time sense, Teldin was able to roll over and see the creature strike. So great was its speed that it skidded along the deck, leaving a trail of ichor, and slammed into the ladder that led up to the sterncastle.
A dozen crew members were on the main deck, armed with weapons ranging from swords to belaying pins from the rigging. At once they fell on the creature, slashing and bludgeoning it. Although it was mortally wounded, still the scavver thrashed and writhed, snapping wildly with its great mouth. The mindless ferocity of the creature was unbelievable. Even as the Probe's crew dismembered it, it fought, smashing the ladder and tearing at its killers. The main deck was awash with blood, both green and red, when the scavver was finally still. Teldin felt a calloused hand on his shoulder and suddenly his time sense returned to normal. The fear that had been absent as he faced the scavver washed over him like a wave, and his stomach knotted with nausea. Trembling, he rolled over to look up into the serious face of Aelfred Silverhorn.
"That was amazing," Aelfred told him quietly. "Stupid, suicidal, insane… but amazing." He squeezed Teldin's shoulder reassuringly, then the big warrior's face split in its familiar, lopsided grin. "Now about your sword technique-you handled that weapon like a shovel. If you're interested, I'll teach you a little something about the proper way to wield a word-once you're put back together, that is…."
"What do you… ?" Teldin started to ask, then he felt pressure on his right hip, the one that had been struck by the scavver. He looked down. Sylvie was pressing a folded doth against the side of his hip. The cloth had originally been white, but now it was turning a rich, dark red. Pain struck him like a blow.
'"Me him below," Aelfred ordered, and firm hands lifted him from the deck.