Teldin kept his eyes closed and tried to ignore the gentle swinging of the hammock. His right hip throbbed, not with pain so much as with a nagging discomfort. Whenever he tried to move it into a more comfortable position, it started the hammock swinging again, which caused nausea to knot his stomach. He should really be grateful, he told himself. The healing potion had dosed the wound on his hip. Nausea should be a minor price, one he should be glad to pay. Tell that to my stomach! In an effort to make himself more comfortable, he expanded the cloak to its full size and wrapped it around himself like a blanket.
A firm knock came on the door. "Yes?" he croaked.
He heard the door open and rolled over to look at his guest. The first thing he saw was Aelfred Silverhorn's crooked smile. "How are you feeling?" the first mate asked him.
Teldin ran a quick mental review of his body. His hip still throbbed in time with his heartbeat, but otherwise, "Pretty good, overall," he answered. "I suppose I'm ready to stop gold bricking." He sat up…
And the universe seemed to do a quick double flip around him. He sank back onto the hammock with a groan, closing his eyes in an attempt to quell the sudden resurgence of nausea that racked his body.
Aelfred put a restraining hand on his chest. "Not so fast, old son," he said quickly. "You lost a lot of blood and enough meat to make a small roast. Potion's are going to help, no doubt about that, but there's no way you're going to be doing handsprings for the next few days. You're to stay here and rest-that's a direct order from the captain, and from me too-until you're stronger. Got it?"
Teldin nodded wordlessly.
"Speaking of the captain," Aelfred went on, "he wants to talk to you, if you feel up to it. Probably wants to talk to you about what happened on the foredeck." His voice grew quieter, more serious. "I want to talk to you about the scavver, too. Like I told you, what you did was amazing. To be honest, and no offense meant, I didn't think you had it in you. You probably saved Sylvie's life-I don't think she could have gotten another spell off in time-and I know she wants to thank you for that when she gets off watch. The crew knows it was you who brought that thing down. Anyway-" his normal gruff manner returned "-the captain's waiting outside. Do you want me to send him in?"
"All right," Teldin replied. "Thanks, Aelfred."
The broad-shouldered warrior snorted as he went out the door.
Teldin tried to relax, but as soon as he closed his eyes, all he could picture was the tooth-filled mouth of the scavver rushing toward him. He was grateful for the distraction when he felt the cool mental touch of the illithid's "voice."
Teldin Moore, the words formed in his head. Are you feeling strong enough for conversation?
He opened his eyes again. Estriss stood in the doorway, his facial tentacles writhing in a way that made Teldin think the creature looked tense or worried. "I think so," he replied. "Come in." He looked around the cabin, but there was nothing he could offer the mind flayer as a seat.
Estriss didn't seem to notice. He walked over to Teldin's hammock and looked intently into his face. Teldin was uncomfortable under the scrutiny of the blank white eyes, but struggled to hide his reaction.
Something important happened earlier, Estriss said without preamble. I wish to talk about it with you, if you will. Teldin simply nodded. Your reaction to the scavver, the illithid went on, there was more to it than the bravery that so impressed Aelfred Silverhorn. Is that not so? Will you tell me what you felt? What you thought?
Teldin hesitated. "I don't think I know what you mean." The motion of the mind flayer's tentacles intensified, reminding Teldin more and more of a human wringing his hands with anxiety or anticipation. Magic! The word rang in Teldin's mind as though the creature had shouted it. I sensed magic. The illithid clutched his amethyst pendant in a three-fingered hand. Or, rather, this did. You are not a spellcaster. I know this as a fact. The magic I sensed was not the directed, bidden magic of a normal enchanted item. It was… Estriss hesitated, seemingly groping for the right words. It was… almost autonomous, independent of your will, but not quite. Not the magic woven by sentience, and not the blind magic of a wizard's ring or wand… but something of both of them. The creature leaned forward, intent, and a tenor almost of pleading entered his mental voice. Tell me what you felt.
"Well…" Teldin paused. There was something about the illithid's intensity that he found compelling. He needed to analyze for himself the strange sensations of those few moments, and maybe this was the best way to do it. "Well," he started again, "what I felt was clarity. Everything seemed to slow down around me, or maybe… maybe it was my thoughts that sped up. I… I…" It was his turn to struggle for words. He tried to force his mind back, to feel again what he'd experienced. "I felt like I'd, well, stepped outside myself, that everything was clear. I could think, I could concentrate, and I could act… and there was nothing that could interfere with what I wanted to do. It was… Well, it was like I was looking through a glass window, and the window had suddenly been wiped clean." He frowned, disturbed with his inability to communicate what he'd felt so absolutely. "That's not really it, but I don't think I have the words."
Was this the first time? Estriss asked. Have you felt this before?
"Yes," Teldin answered slowly. "Twice before."
Were the circumstances similar?
"Yes."
Tension? Danger? On both occasions?
"Yes," Teldin said positively. "When the wasp ship attacked the longboat. I had a crossbow. The gnomes told me I had to shoot the ballista gunner, then the pirate captain."
And you did?
Teldin nodded. "I'd never shot a crossbow before, but it didn't seem to matter. I could concentrate. There were no distractions. I could… I could focus all my thoughts on what I had to do."
This focus-did it come from within you? There was a different tone to the illithid's words, a profound intensity, and Teldin knew they both realized this was the key question.
"No," he responded softly. "It felt… It came from outside."
The mind flayer's tentacles ceased their writhing but now quivered with tension. The creature's mental voice was silent for two score heartbeats, then it continued, gentler but still insistent. Teldin, Estriss asked, do you possess any items of magic? Anything possessed of enchantment?
Now it was Teldin who was silent. He knew with perfect clarity what the illithid was driving at, what it wanted to know. He knew he had the answer Estriss wanted… but was he willing to give it? Over the past weeks he'd thought more and more about his "gift" from the mortally wounded spelljammer, about the strange occurrences that happened around it. He knew that he needed to learn the cloak's significance.
But should he discuss it with Estriss? Could he trust the mind flayer with his secret? At home he'd never been one for secrets (except when it came to his father, of course, but that was different). He'd always found it much easier to be totally open with everyone. Sometimes people tried to take advantage of what they saw as his naivete, but much more frequently his honesty and forthrightness brought him the support he needed to follow the path he thought was right.
Of course, what importance could there be to the secrets of a farmer? Now he was playing a much deeper game, and the stakes were much higher-the neogi had taught him that. People had died because of the cloak. Would more die if he kept it a secret, or if he discussed it openly?
The illithid knows, though, he told himself, at least the general form of what I'm hiding. His questions showed that beyond any doubt. What sense did it make to continue to hide it? Maybe Estriss is the help I need to learn the answers I've got to have. He made his decision.
"I suspect," he answered at last, "it's the cloak."
Ahh. The word was a mental sigh. I thought as much. The mind flayer shook his head in puzzlement-another very human gesture. Still, your cloak puzzles me, Estriss admitted. It is not enchanted in the sense that the word is normally used. It has no dweomer about it, no aura or quality of power to it. I have checked it to the limit of my abilities. But, when you faced the scavver, the sense of power was very intense. I have experienced nothing like this before. Will you tell me how you came to possess it?
Teldin felt another twinge of doubt-should he tell the illithid everything?-but quickly suppressed it. Telling the story could do no further harm. "I… acquired it on Krynn," he began, "but it didn't come from there. Several weeks ago, a vessel-a spelljamming vessel-crashed near my farm. The owner of the cloak was badly wounded, dying. She gave me the cloak before she passed away, and she told me to take it to 'the creators.' " Teldin raised himself on one elbow to look into the illithid's eyes. "Who are 'the creators'?" he asked.
Estriss didn't answer directly. Instead, he asked, What happened then?
Teldin closed his eyes as a wave of sadness and pain washed over him. The fear and danger was too recent, all the deaths too immediate, for him to dwell on it. He wished he could just blot everything out of his mind.
Estriss must have sensed some of his emotions. There is no need to tell me everything now, he said gently. There was pain and there was loss. You were pursued?
"By neogi," Teldin confirmed. "They want the cloak."
The illithid nodded. It is an artifact of some kind, and artifacts are usually notable for their power, he said. If the neogi are aware of the nature of the cloak, then they would wont it. I refer to individual neogi, here. An individual neogi wants power, all it can acquire, and it cares not at all how it gets it. It was Teldin's turn to nod. That was the kind of behavior he'd come to associate with neogi. "The traveler told me to keep the cloak away from the neogi," he said.
Well that you do, Estriss agreed. Until you learn more about it, you should keep it away from everyone. Humor tinged the creature's mental voice. Even from me.
"Can you help me?" Teldin asked. "Who are 'the creators'?"
The mind flayer gave one of its broken-backed shrugs. I have no knowledge of this, he said after a moment, only speculation, and that may well be groundless.
"Tell me," Teldin prompted.
Estriss paused. Just as when they'd first spoken on the stern-castle, Teldin was convinced that the illithid was embarrassed. "Tell me," he urged again. "Please, I'm interested."
Estriss nodded his acquiescence. I must tell you something of my life's work, he began. I told you that I am a scholar. I know you have spoken with my first mate, and I am certain he has told you a little more about my interests, even though I realize he considers my theories to be the utmost foolishness. The words formed a statement, but the mental tone was questioning.
"The Juna," Teldin said.
The Juna, Estriss confirmed. When I was younger, I became fascinated with the vast range of 'origin myths' that exist concerning the creation of the universe. Did you know-he leaned forward, intently-that virtually every sentient race has a legend or legends that tell of a reality, a universe where the constraints of space and time as we know them do not exist? And of the Great Powers that finally shaped the walls of time and space around that reality to form the worlds that we know today? The illithid shrugged and waved off Teldin's imminent question with a purple-skinned hand. That is merely poetic language, he explained, and the language varies from one version of the myth to another. But, I repeat, every sentient race has a similar myth, even yours and mine. Although-and humor temporarily replaced intensity, as the creature gently stroked his facial tentacles-the appearance of the Great Powers differs significantly between tie two accounts.
Teldin broke in, "What has that… ?"
… to do with the cloak? Estriss finished for him. Nothing. Have patience. Each storyteller has his own way of telling a story. Will you allow me mine?
"Sorry," Teldin responded, somewhat chastened. He settled himself more comfortably in his hammock. "Go on."
Initially, my interest wash the differences between the various origin myths, Estriss continued. I thought… Well, in my youth and unsophistication, I thought that by correlating the differences in the accounts with the characteristics of the races involved, I might be able to cancel out the variations and expose the root of the matter: the true events that gave rise to the myths. The mind flayer shrugged once more. As I say, I was young.
I never completed the task-unsurprising, since I now know it to be impossible-but I did discover something interesting. The most lucid and detailed version of the origin myth was to be found in the ancient epic poetry of the thri-kreen. Do you know of the race? Some call them mantis warriors.
"I've never heard of them," Teldin admitted.
They may not exist on Krynn, Estriss told him. In any case, many millennia ago the People of the Celestial Mantis underwent a period of almost explosive expansion throughout the universe. The thri-kreen preceded your race-and mine-into the greater universe, perhaps by millions of years. They talk little of it now, even those who still dwell in the void. But they remember the glory. They remember it well.
Teldin felt the mental equivalent of a sigh. Those were the transcendent days of the People's race, Estriss continued, and their poetry reflects this. It was in this poetry that I sought the origin myths. And it was here that I found references to the Juna.
Teldin found himself caught up by the sense of wonder in the illithid's mental voice. "Tell me about the Juna," he asked softly.
Estriss seemed not to have heard him. My focus changed, he continued. The origin myth no longer had interest for me. My concentration was focused on the Juna.
Now that I knew what to look for, I found references to them elsewhere. There is no need for me to describe the years I worked on the problem. Suffice it to say that I now know more about the Juna than, I believe, anyone else in the universe. The illithid paused a little uncomfortably. I must admit that many scholars, perhaps most, share Aelfred Silverhorn's low opinion of my work.
Teldin shook that off. "Tell me about them," he prompted.
The illithid went on, The Juna were a mighty race. They were worshiped as gods on hundreds of worlds, by a myriad of peoples now extinct. I have seen representations of them carved on many ruins and painted on die walls of many caves. Their form is unmistakable, even when transformed through the eyes of misguided faith. And their symbol, the three-pointed star, Ends its way into the symbology of many races.
While your race and mine were barely taking our first steps away from our cosmic cradles, the Juna were already disappearing from this universe. Whether they died out, were destroyed, or moved on to another plane of existence, I know not.
Teldin shook his head in bewilderment. This was so far outside his ken as to be virtually incomprehensible. All his life, his world had been measured by acres and miles and seasons. To hear Estriss talk in terms of millions of years, hundred of worlds… Even though the words were familiar, he found himself unable to comprehend the reality those words were describing.
Apparently the illithid misinterpreted his reaction. I understand your doubt, he said, with a tinge of sadness. Even those who have seen evidence mistrust my conclusions. I must have more tangible proof if I want my research to receive the credibility it deserves.
Teldin remembered something that the illithid had told him earlier. "And that's why you're going to Realmspace?" he asked. "To get more proof?"
The mind flayer nodded eagerly. A great collector of curiosities, of mysterious items and artifacts, has died, Estriss explained, and his collection is being auctioned off in the city of Rauthaven, on the island of Nimbral. For some time, I have known that his collection contained several items that might be connected with the Juna. But I also knew that he would never sell those items to me while he lived. Now, however… My only concern is that there may be others who recognize the significance of these items and bid the price out of my reach.
"What kind of items?"
Several pieces of artwork, replied Estriss, other items, and- so I believe-a twin to this. The creature reached within his robe and drew out a long, curved knife. He handed the weapon to Teldin. I carry it with me always, the creature went on, somewhat diffidently, for defense, but more importantly as a.… as an amulet, if you will, against discouragement. Examine the weapon.
Teldin hefted the knife in his hand. It was almost as long as his forearm, with the hilt taking up nearly half of that length. The blade was razor-sharp along the inside of the curve and sharpened perhaps a third of the way along the back. In the light of the room's single lantern, it shone dully like brushed steel. Teldin ran a finger along the flat of the blade… and stopped in surprise. He'd expected the blade to be cool to the touch. It wasn't, but neither was it warm. It seemed to have no temperature at all, as if it didn't register fully to the sense of touch. He looked up at Estriss questioningly.
The blade is not metal, the illithid explained, nor is it forged in the normal sense. It is some form of crystalline material, and I believe the blade was grown into its current shape. It was once highly magical, but the enchantment has faded over the millennia.
"How old is it?" Teldin's voice was hushed. At least two million Krynn years. Two million years… Teldin wrapped his hand around the hilt, preparatory to testing the balance. His fingers encountered strange ridges and channels, making it impossible to get a comfortable grip. Suddenly squeamish, he handed the knife back to the illithid. There was something unaccountably disturbing about holding a weapon that was obviously designed for manipulative organs only distantly related to human hands… "What did they look like?"
They had a trilateral symmetry, Estriss said, looking down at the blade he held in his hands. Three legs, three arms… Like a xorn or a tirapheg, but unlike both. The mind flayer's mental voice fell silent for a moment, as though he were contemplating the creatures he had just described. Then he shook his head, is if coming out of a doze, and returned the knife to its place within his robe.
There are other artifacts that I believe were created by the Juna, Estriss said. One more important than ail the rest… The mental voice trailed off.
"Goon."
Double eyelids hooded the illithid's white eyes, as though the creature were embarrassed to meet Teldin's puzzled gaze. This is merely a theory, he said hurriedly, merely my own belief. I have no evidence, and others find the theory unbelievable….
"Tell me."
I believe the Juna created the Spelljammer.
A thrill, a tingle, shot through Teldin's body. He'd heard the word "spelljammer" before, of course, but never in this context, never as a proper name: "the Spelljammer" There was something-maybe it was just the tone of the illithid's mental "voice"-that made it seem somehow wondrous. "What is the Spelljammer?" he asked.
Some call it a myth, replied Estriss, but there have been enough independent reports to convince me that it exists. It is a huge ship, a tenth of a league long and almost twice that in width. It sails wildspace and the flow, and has been sighted in half a hundred crystal spheres. Its speed and maneuverability are unmatched, and it boasts armament sufficient to defeat an entire Beet. The body of legend that surrounds it is huge and growing larger every year.
Some philosophers claim that the Spelljammer was created by the gods, either as a test for the faithful or as a nemesis for the false. I believe it to have been built by mortal creatures, however….
"By the Juna?"
Estriss nodded. So I believe. Few share my conviction, however, and there seems no way to prove or disprove my theory.
Teldin shook his head. His initial atavistic reaction to the illithid's words had faded, and his normal levelheadedness was reasserting itself. "This is interesting…" he said.
But you wish to return to your original question? Estriss nodded. There is a connection. I ask you to look at the cloak. Look at the pattern woven into the lining.
Teldin ran his hand over the garment's silk-smooth inner surface. As always, it felt slightly cold to the touch. In the lantern's light it was almost impossible to judge the lining's color-was it green with a hint of gold, or brown with a sub touch of yellow?-but Teldin knew from experience it was no better in clear sunlight. The cloak's color seemed to shift elusively depending on its surroundings. There was a subtle pattern worked into the finely woven cloth, a precise, geometrical motif.
The pattern includes the recurring symbol of a flower with three petals, Estriss continued. Do you see it?
Teldin looked closer at the cloth, changing its angle to the light. The pattern was composed of many fine lines, some no thicker than a slender, hair-thin thread of the woven material. The lines intersected, joined and branched in a network of almost dizzying complexity. There was nothing that his mind could resolve into a three-petaled flower.
Estriss responded to his dilemma. A four-jointed purple finger traced out a section of the pattern. Here. Now do you seek?
As the illithid traced the figure, it seemed to leap into visibility. It reminded Teldin of some of the cunning optical illusions he'd seen where the viewer could force the background and foreground of a drawing to reverse, changing its contents. "I see it now," he told the mind flayer. "But how could you see it?"
The mind flayer shrugged. The vision of my race is highly attuned to geometrical patterns, he explained. Much more so than is yours.
Teldin frowned. "Well, why is it important?"
I said that the three-pointed star is the symbol that represents the Juna, Estriss explained. But so, too, is the three-petaled flower.
"Then the Juna are 'the creators'!" Excitement surged within Teldin. Estriss had just given him the answer to the mystery. All he had to do now was find a representative of the Juna….
The illithid's words checked his elation, however. It is possible, Estriss said doubtfully, but there are three problems. First, she who gave you the cloak spoke as though 'the creators' still exist-Otherwise how could you return the cloak to them? And the Juna have not been known in this universe for millennia. Second, if this cloak were created by the Juna, it would presumably have to be millennia old. Certainly, a high enough level of enchantment can prevent the aging of an object, but it still must be considered.
Third, the three-petaled Bower is a symbol also widely used by the arcane. I believe that they may have borrowed or adopted it from the Juna, but the effect is the same.
He wasn't going to give up without at least some struggle, Teldin decided. "Then how about the arcane?" he asked. "Could they be 'the creators'?" He paused. "And just who are the arcane anyway?"
Estriss was silent for a moment, and Teldin sensed the exercise of patience. We may continue our discussion later, the illithid told him finally. You need rest to recuperate, and I must be on the bridge soon.
"Why?"
We are about to leave this crystal sphere and enter the flow.
"I have to see this." Cautiously, steeling himself for a recurrence of the crippling nausea and dizziness he'd felt earlier, Teldin raised himself up onto both elbows. This time the world obediently held its place and didn't engage in any gymnastics around him. He swung himself down from the hammock and stood, swaying slightly. Aelfred was right, he thought, he wouldn't be doing any handsprings, but there was no need to remain bedridden as long as he took it easy and didn't push himself too hard. He took a step forward….
And was thankful as the illithid's quick hand on his shoulder steadied him. "Thanks," he said a little self-consciously. "I'm as weak as a kitten."
Then perhaps…
"No," Teldin countered, somewhat more forcefully than he felt. "I'll make it."
*****
The hammership's open forward bridge was more crowded than Teldin had ever seen it. Sylvie and Aelfred were there, of course; anything else would have been inconceivable. So were the second mate, Sweor Tobregdan, the elven helmsman, Vallus Leafbower, and two other crew members whose names Teldin didn't know.
As they'd climbed the companionway to the main deck, Teldin had been glad of Estriss's supporting hand. At first the pressure of four-jointed fingers was alien enough to make his skin crawl, but by the time he'd reached the bridge, he gave it no further thought. When they'd entered the bridge, Estriss had solicitously conducted him to an aft corner, where he could settle himself on a wooden seat that folded down from the bulkhead. The illithid had gestured away Teldin's thanks and joined Sylvie and Vallus at the secondary chart table. Both Aelfred and Sylvie had greeted him silently-he with a grin and a wink, she with a fleeting but warm smile-but had immediately started a low-voiced conversation with Estriss. The others had paid Teldin no attention; in fact, they'd seemed totally unaware of his arrival, with good reason. The view out of the bridge was… Teldin searched vainly for the right words. Awe-inspiring? Mind-bending? Terrifying? All were appropriate, but none was sufficient.
The Probe hung motionless in space. Ahead of the ship was a wall of impenetrable blackness, a plane of darkness that extended in all directions-up, down, port and starboard-seemingly to infinity. This must be how a fly views a mountainside, Teldin found himself thinking, though even this analogy simply didn't capture the magnitude of what he was experiencing.
On Krynn, Teldin had stood beneath the walls of huge buildings and at the foot of sheer mountainsides. In all of those cases, there had been the sense-totally false, but nonetheless disturbing-that the wall had sloped outward near the top, so that it was poised over him like a mighty weight ready to fall. This wasn't the case here. There was no sense that the black wall was anything but flat, no sense that it posed any threat of falling.
Yes, Teldin felt fear welling up inside him, but it was nothing so mundane as a fear of falling objects. It was the sheer scale that terrified, the very sense of infinity. There was no feeling of direct danger, either to him or to the ship as a whole. To acknowledge danger would, somehow, be to dignify oneself with too much significance, to fool oneself into believing that one's existence or nonexistence mattered one whit. It was that conceit that the black wall denied, and therein was its terror. In a universe in which such things could exist, how could anything as infinitesimal as Teldin Moore have any importance whatsoever?
"What is it?" he croaked.
It was Sylvie who turned away from the map table and answered him in her clear voice. "The crystal shell," she said. "The boundary of Krynnspace. We'll be there soon."
That didn't make sense…. "We're still moving?"
Sylvie chuckled, a sound that reminded Teldin of mountain streams. "At fall speed," she told him. She came over to him and laid a seemingly weightless hand on his shoulder. "How far away do you think that is?" she asked him quietly.
Teldin paused in thought. There were no marks on that infinite plane, no features or details. It was totally unrelieved blackness, with nothing for his eyes to focus on. How can you focus on nothingness? At first he'd thought the wall was perhaps a bow shot away: one hundred paces, maybe two. But now? He realized his initial estimation had been a desperate attempt by his mind-and, if the truth be known, not a very successful one-to reduce what he was seeing to dimensions that he could comprehend. When he forced himself to be honest, he could no more estimate the distance to that wall than he could accurately gauge its size. "How far?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.
"More than a thousand leagues," the half-elf replied. She glanced over her shoulder back toward the chart table. "They're ready to open the portal," she told him. "I'll talk to you later." She flashed him another of her instant smiles and returned to her duty station.
More than a thousand leagues…
At the map table, Vallus Leafbower glanced over at Estriss and replied to a silent question. "Yes, we're within range," the elf said. "Shall I proceed?" Teldin's brain didn't pick up the answer, but the elf nodded in agreement. He picked up a rolled parchment from the map table-Teldin had assumed it to be another navigation chart-and carefully unrolled it. His gray eyes darted over the scroll's contents, and he began to read.
"Ileste al tiveniel no aluviath bethude…" The elf s voice was soft, and the syllables flowed fluidly off his tongue. Teldin felt the short hairs at the nape of his neck stir with his fear. He'd seen spellcasters weave their magic before; if Estriss was to be believed, the cloak was capable of something similar. But here, within sight of the infinite wall of blackness, the event seemed to take on much greater significance. He felt the sudden urge to cover his eyes, to withdraw. He was involved in things that were too great for him. What was he, anyway? A farm boy. And here this farm boy was, about to pass through the barrier that contained quite literally everything he'd ever known or experienced. It was only with the greatest effort that he kept his gaze steady on the blackness ahead of the ship.
"… menoa tire alao galatrive." Vallus Leafbower fell silent. Directly ahead of the hammership, a new star burst into life: a point of fierce white light. A smile of satisfaction spread across the elfs face as he saw it. When he spoke, there was a slight tremor of exertion in his voice. "The portal is open."
Aelfred nodded to an unspoken order from Estriss. "Aye," he responded. "Flow stations. I'll spread the word." He gave Teldin another quick but reassuring grin. Then, stopping only long enough to extinguish the lantern that hung over the chart table, he left the bridge.
Teldin felt his eyes drawn back to the new star that had sprung to life in the firmament. It looked somehow different now from how it had been in its first moments of existence. For one thing, it seemed to twinkle slightly, to shimmer the way stars had always done when he'd looked at them from the ground. In contrast, all of the other stars were constant when viewed from space, totally unvarying in their hard light, like tiny crystals. There was now color, too; sometimes the new star seemed blue, sometimes red, changing its hue so rapidly that his eyes could hardly keep up with it.
Was it just his imagination, or was the star growing larger? At first it had been a point, totally dimensionless. Now he could swear that it had a disk…. Yes, there was no doubt at all. It was growing larger.
With a suddenness that was as shocking as a solid punch to the stomach, his perception of the universe instantly reordered itself. No longer was he looking at a star that was somehow, unaccountably, growing in size. He was looking at a hole in the blackness-a hole through it-leading to what lay beyond that infinite wall. The light he saw wasn't coming from an object. It was the light of whatever lay outside this crystal sphere, outside Krynnspace. The hole-the portal-wasn't growing. The Probe was hurtling toward it at inconceivable speed….
Teldin couldn't control his reactions. He slapped both hands over his eyes and folded at the waist so his chest was against his knees. He heard a whimper of panic… and realized that the voice was his own.
He felt a hand on his back, and the cool touch of Estriss's voice in his mind. There were no words involved. It was the mental equivalent of a soothing murmur, the inarticulate sound of comfort parents make to their small children. Teldin drew strength from it. He sat up again, taking his hands away from his face. "I'm sorry," he mumbled. He couldn't meet the illithid's gaze, nor look up at the others standing around the map table. His humiliation was complete.
Words formed within his brain. There is no reason to be sorry. Fear is natural when one is confronted by the unknown. The vast majority of those who travel the universe experience a reaction similar to yours at some time,… often the first time they see the boundary of a crystal sphere and realize its significance. Humor tinged the mind flayer's words. My own reaction was much the same as yours, perhaps more intense. Estriss continued more seriously. The shock typically strikes but once. After the first impact, die traveler is inured, it least partially.
Come, a test. The illithid tightened his grip on Teldin's shoulder. We are about to pass into the flow. Look on the portal and tell me your reaction.
Somewhat hesitantly, Teldin raised his eyes. The view ahead of the ship was vastly different. The true nature of the porral was obvious now. It was perfectly circular, a great hole in the blackness. The margin of the portal-the circumference of the circle-glowed with a harsh and brilliant blue-white light that reminded Teldin of lightning storms over the mountains neat his home. Under other circumstances, this glowing margin might have been bright enough to dazzle, but here it faded almost to insignificance-because the light of chaos itself seemed to flood through the portal!
Beyond the black plane of the crystal sphere was what looked like an ocean of multicolored fluids intermixing in turbulent, riotous confusion. Streaks and whorls of every color of the rainbow churned with hues for which Teldin had no names. All glowed with a radiance in which every object on the bridge cast shifting multihued shadows. Wisps and ribbons of color seemed about to leak through the portal, but appeared to evaporate at the last instant. This must be the flow….
The ship's forward motion had slowed drastically. No longer did the portal seem to grow with such dramatic speed. Instead, the Probe seemed to be edging its way forward, cautiously, toward the unknown. For the first time, Teldin's brain could finally make sense of what he was seeing and grasp the scale involved. The portal was near now. He could tell that for sure; only a hundred paces or so remained. It wasn't as big as he'd initially guessed, only about twice the length of the Probe-a total of about five hundred feet-in diameter.
How do you feel? Estriss asked him.
Teldin didn't look at the illithid, didn't take his eyes off the view ahead. "Dazed," he replied quietly. "Amazed, but under control."
Good. The captain joined the others at the chart table. Even though the thought wasn't directed at him, Teldin "heard" the illithid's order: Take us through.
The Probe inched forward. The distance to the portal halved.
The chaotic colors of the flow seemed to bulge outward, away from the ship's bow, as though a bubble were forming in a liquid. As the ship advanced, so did the bubble. It's like we're a ship in a bottle, Teldin thought, remembering the intricate ship models he'd once seen an old man selling, impossibly constructed inside a narrow-necked glass bottle. If you immersed the bottle in paint, this is what the crew would see. The Probe's bow passed through the portal. For an instant, the black wall was invisible. A thin line of blue-white brilliance encircled the ship. Then the vessel was through.
Teldin's curiosity overcame the sense of weakness that still possessed him, and he forced himself to his feet. He edged his way past the officers at the chart table and descended the three shallow steps to the forward weapon deck. The crewman who was taking Teldin's watch duty was squatting on the deck, his back against the ballista's swivel mount, gazing around him with undisguised fascination. He heard Teldin's approaching steps and nodded a greeting before returning to his observations.
Teldin searched his memory for the man's name. After a moment, it came: Shandess. Older than most other members of the crew, he reminded Teldin of an ancient bit of chewed leather: very much the worse for wear, but still tough and resilient. "You've done this before?" Teldin asked him. He'd meant to speak in a normal voice-a way to prove to himself that he'd shaken off his earlier shock-but the words still came out in a whisper.
"The flow?" Shandess nodded. "Oh, aye, three score times, more maybe." He grinned, showing crooked and broken teeth. "It always gets you, don't it?" The old man pointed upward and astern, over the forecastle. "That's your home behind us, ye know."
Teldin turned. The black plane was visible again, but this time astern of the Probe. The sense of infinity was missing, simply because the flow itself wasn't perfectly transparent, and attenuated his vision over distance. Still, the sheer immensity of what he could see was quite impressive enough.
The stern of the vessel was just passing through the portal. From this perspective, it was easier to appreciate the shape and size of the air bubble that surrounded the ship. It looked like a smooth ovoid, about three times as long as the ship, and about three times as wide as the Probe's beam. As far as he could tell, the bubble's "walls" were totally insubstantial; the light of the flow didn't reflect or refract from anything. He knew that his initial image of the bubble as a glass bottle was wrong, but still it was very descriptive. As the ship moved forward, the intertwined rivulets of color parted for it, eddying slightly as they flowed backward along the bubble's periphery.
He looked astern once more. The portal was gone, closed. The black plane of the crystal sphere was unbroken and unmarked. Krynnspace-his entire life up to this point-was on the other side of that colossal barrier, and he was sundered from it, perhaps forever.