The Maelstrom Eye

Chapter Eight

"You can't imagine what went through my mind, sir," said Gomja, seated at the foot of Teldin's polka-dot-sheeted bed. "When I pulled you out of the water, I thought that you looked familiar, but I couldn't believe it until I rolled you over. Then…" The giffs voice trailed off, and he sighed with happiness. "You just can't imagine, sir."

In the afternoon sunlight pouring through the infirmary window, Teldin could see tears of joy still running down the giffs wide cheeks from his tiny black eyes. This was only the fifth time Gomja was repeating the tale of his reaction to rescuing his old friend, but Teldin was too weary to care, and the bed was too comfortable to make protesting worthwhile.

No one else was present in the little white room. The single window opened out to show a forest-covered slope and the lake beyond-Lake Crashsplash, the gnomes called it, with painful appropriateness. If Teldin turned his head, he could see part of the lakeshore but nothing of the sunken Probe. The lake was quite shallow, only twelve feet deep where the ham- mership had gone down, and he'd been told earlier that gnome salvage crews were already at work trying to refloat it and transport it to the dry dock at the wildspace naval base bordering the lake. Whether there was anything worth repairing would be determined there. The helms were just so much firewood now. As for the rest of the ship-he wasn't sure it was worth much more.

Teldin blinked, focusing on the huge, happy giff. Gomja hadn't changed much in the half year or so since Teldin had last seen him. He was still a seven-foot-tall, broad-shouldered blue-gray hippopotamus-a manlike hippopotamus, at that. Gomja had put on more muscle, which Teldin found difficult to believe. The giff s bright red uniform, covered as it was with gold trim, tassels, and an assortment of medals across his chest, did nothing to hide his oxlike strength. As Gomja wiped at his small black eyes, now red-rimmed and watery, great cords of muscle stood out on his biceps and forearms.

Nevertheless, Gomja's huge flared nostrils were running and his chest shook as he breathed. This was the first meeting the gnome healers had allowed between the two since a waterlogged and exhausted Teldin had been brought to the infirmary two days ago. The giff was still in shock.

"Gomja," Teldin said. His voice sounded scratchy and rough. "I doubt that you could imagine what went through my mind when you pulled me out either." No words were ever truer, he thought. He still wasn't sure he believed anything at all that had happened since he had awakened aboard the Probe.

Feeling for something in a side pocket in his uniform, Gomja gave up and pulled a large, ragged towel from a table near the foot of Teldin's bed. The giff noisily honked into the towel, wiped his nose, then carefully folded the towel and placed it back where he found it. "I've been embarrassing myself, sir," he said apologetically. "I'm not usually like this, you'll recall, but you just can't imagine what went-"

"Gomja, I know. Look, just tell me how in the name of the Dark Queen you got here."

"Oh, of course, sir." The giff sniffed and perked up a bit. His shoulders straightened as he spoke. "Well, as you remember, sir, my first platoon and I had some trouble with that neogi deathspider over Mount Nevermind."

"Trouble?" Teldin gave the giff an incredulous look. "The last I saw of you, the deathspider crashed in flames into the lake on the mountaintop. I thought you were… well, gone."

"Frankly, sir, I didn't think I was going to be around very long myself. My platoon and I had fought our way into the bridge, where we disposed of the neogi and their lordservants-the umber hulks-and broke their command. We couldn't do anything right away for the poor soul in the lifejammer helm"-Gomja grimaced, remembering-"as we couldn't move him without crashing the ship."

"Which you did anyway," Teldin mumbled. On seeing the stricken look on Gomja's face, he hastily added, "Bad joke. Just forget it. Go on."

Gomja nodded somberly, then his chest swelled. "Well, we broke out into the corridor leading to the rest of the ship, and my platoon was doing an excellent job of driving back the slaves the neogi were sending toward us, when an umber hulk came right through the enemy's ranks with a little present for us: a cask of smokepowder with a burning fuse. It would have been sufficient to stop our advance dead, as they say, if I had not taken the liberty of removing the cask from the beast's claws first and tossing it behind us into the bridge. I tried to shut the door and block it, but the umber hulk had my attention by then, and the explosion knocked all of us down, friend and foe alike. I'm afraid the poor soul in the lifejammer had no way to escape. The ship lost power, and we went down. We braced ourselves as well as we could, and most of my platoon made it out. The deathspider didn't sink right away, luckily for us. Gnomes from the shore got to us rather quickly, all said and done. I even had a tattoo placed on my chest to commemorate the victory."

Gomja retrieved the towel, vigorously blew his huge nose once more, then replaced the towel as before. Except for the red circles around his eyes, he now looked quite buoyant. "The best part of it all, sir, was that the gnomes were able to retrieve the helm from the deathspider and modify it. We also took several neogi prisoners, though I'm afraid they didn't last long in the gnomes' hands. Research committees in the Healers', Zoologists', and Military guilds wanted to examine them, and the results were quite ghastly. The umber hulks, those that hadn't drowned, had to be slain, except for one that went to a research committee." Gomja shivered. "Many of the neogi's prisoners were freed, though they had no idea of what to do with themselves. I believe they were turned over to the local human authorities for care."

"This still doesn't tell me how you came to be here," Teldin reminded him.

"Sorry, sir. Anyway, the neogi helm was repaired and revamped, and a new spelljammer was built, a galleon-type based on a merchant sailing ship that the gnomes had on hand for some reason. I was offered a chance to ride the ship into space, though some of the gnomes wanted me to remain on Mount Nevermind as director of the Military Guild. I felt it the wiser course to, um-" Gomja lowered his voice, glancing briefly toward the open window "-to seek gainful employment elsewhere, if you understand my drift, sir." Teldin nodded knowingly.

"So we took off," Gomja went on, "and over the next few weeks we consumed a great deal of time fighting pirates and a rather nasty squid ship full of zombies. I earned three more tattoos as a result. I tried to get work with the elven Imperial Fleet, but without success. Eventually, we were directed here by a gnomish sidewheeler-trader, and here we, ah, landed. In fact, our landing was not unlike yours and was in nearly the same spot. The gnomes even renamed the lake on account of us. It used to be called 'The Big Lake.'" Gomja grinned, his ears straight up and his thick, blunt teeth showing.

Teldin shook his head in amazement. It was still too much to believe. "When I saw you last," he said, remembering their parting, "you were Sergeant Gomja. I heard one of the gnomes outside call you colonel-captain something-or-other."

The giff sat fully upright in his heavy wooden chair, his great chest swelling and stretching the fabric of his red uniform to new dimensions. "I am now First Colonel-Commander Herphan Gomja, Commander in Chief of Base Security, Naval Port Walkaway, Ironpiece, My sire would be proud of me if he knew. I am but seventeen years of age, a youth in the eyes of many, but I now have six hundred seventy gnomes, twenty-two humans, and fifty individuals of other races as my subordinates. No other giff in my memory has gained such a command so early." For a moment, his blue face glowed as he spoke.

Teldin tried to suppress a grin but couldn't stop it. Obviously, the giff didn't understand just how ridiculous he sounded. Gomja hadn't changed a bit. The giff saw Teldin's smile and returned it, no doubt thinking that Teldin was pleased for him. "By the way," Teldin asked, "why do they call it Port Walkaway?"

"That, I believe, came from a human's remark to a gnome about the best kind of landing to make with a spelljammer. Her words went something like, 'Any landing you can walk away from is a good one.' I don't believe they actually got the joke, sir."

Teldin groaned. "One thing that you haven't explained," he said as he reached for a cup of water on a bedside table, "is how you got your command so quickly, You can't have been here longer than a few weeks."

Gomja shrugged. "Eight weeks, actually, sir. The security commanders were on strike when we arrived here. There was some disagreement about the appropriate length of unit mottos, I believe. The colony secretary-general hired me to replace the striking gnome commanders, and that was it. It struck me as out of the ordinary for any race but the gnomes, I confess, but I decided not to question an opportunity such as that. After I reorganized the security and marine forces, the gnome commanders asked to sign back on, and I took them as my subordinates. If I may be allowed to wave my own flag, things have run very smoothly these last two months. Your arrival was the first call to action that we've had."

"If I could have warned you, I'd have tried," Teldin said, smiling. "What I don't understand is why you'd take a job here leading gnomes when you were offered the very same position back at Mount Nevermind."

Gomja rolled his small black eyes. "Oh, that. I'm afraid the research committees had begun to take an interest in me, sir, and rather than risk a turn in their examination room and-"

"Stop." Teldin could picture it all too well. "I'm glad to see you, Gomja, however it came about"

"I'm glad to see you, too, sir," Gomja replied with a wide grin, his pert ears giving a wiggle on top of his broad hippopotamus head. "You can't imagine what went through-"

"— your mind, yes." Teldin sank back into his pillow. Suddenly he felt very tired. "Gomja, if you don't mind, I think I need to rest for a while."

"Certainly, sir!" the giff boomed, coming to his feet and thoughtfully retrieving the towel he'd used. The floorboards creaked in protest. "I'll make sure everyone is kept out for a while. The surgeon says you should be up on your feet in another day or two. We've been helping you along with healing spells, as you may be aware, and you're almost as good as new! I'll be staying downstairs in the infirmary here, in room number eight. Call for me if you need anything, sir." The giff threw Teldin a sharp salute, then turned on his broad footpads and opened the door. He hesitated, then looked back just beforeleaving. "Sir," he said, flushing a darker shade of blue, "I just thought I should say that even though I am First Colonel-Commander now, the best promotion I ever had in my life was when you made me a sergeant at Mount Nevermind. I've never forgotten that."

Teldin wasn't sure quite what to say in reply, but he was deeply touched. "I've never forgotten it either. I knew a good soldier when I saw one. Carry on!"

"Right! Good-bye, sir." Beaming, the giff closed the door behind him with a solid thud.

"Good-bye," Teldin said to the door. He closed his eyes. Life had been getting only stranger and stranger since this entire adventure started.

"Psst!"

Teldin started and looked at the open window. A small, elfin face surrounded with gleaming black hair looked back at him with a joyful expression. Bright wildflowers rested in Gaye's hair. She appeared to be hanging onto the outside window ledge by her fingers and elbows.

"Is he gone?" Gaye said in a loud stage whisper.

Teldin wanted to close his eyes, but pushed himself up on his elbows instead. "What in the lower blazes are you doing there?" he whispered fiercely. "This is the second floor!"

"I thought you'd like some company!" she whispered back, pulling herself fully into the room. The dark-haired kender was wearing a short purple dress with a red sash and no shoes. "I would have brought some fruit, but the gnomes said you weren't to eat anything but creamed soaked grains until you were released."

Teldin's stomach knotted at the thought of facing another bowl of that tasteless gray sludge. He was being fed five times a day now, and he hated every moment of it.

Gaye wiped her dirty hands on Teldin's bedsheets. "Anyway, now that I'm here, we have some time to talk!" she said brightly, seating herself on the bed. She was wearing a new sort of flowery perfume. "Aelfred said you brought us down when both the helms were knocked out," she said, leaning toward him excitedly. "Is this another power of your cloak? I don't mean to be nosy. Aelfred was trying to keep it a secret, but I overheard him yesterday talking to the navigator. I hope I'm not getting him into trouble or anything by saying that." "Well-" Teldin began.

"I guess I should first say thank you for saving us," Gaye continued quickly, "but that seems so inadequate. That big blue guy with the nose, General Gomma whatever, said you almost drowned when we splashed down, but he pulled you out. I was really grateful he did, too. We've only known each other for what, five days, and here we are, crashed on a flat planet with no ship left, and who knows what's lurking in wildspace for us, trying to get your cloak. That's what Aelfred was saying, but not to me. That was to the navigator."

"I don't-" Teldin said.

"Oh, don't worry, none of that's important," the kender went on. "None of us can predict the future, so we'd all better eat our desserts first. That's what everyone says, anyway. I like your mustache. So, what have you been doing with yourself lately?" She waited expectantly, her dark eyes shining.

Teldin opened his mouth to answer.

There was a knock at the door. "Teldin?" came Aelfred's muffled voice from outside. "Teldin, mind if I come in?"

"Oops," muttered Gaye, bounding to her bare feet. She looked hurriedly around the room, then dropped to her knees and crawled under Teldin's bed. "Don't tell!" she whispered with a wink, and was gone from view.

"Teldin?" came the voice at the door again.

"Come on in," Teldin said in defeat. "Why not."

The door opened silently. Aelfred had a new gash over his left eye, but it had healed already. He moved unsteadily, favoring his right leg. The big man gave Teldin a lopsided smile as he limped over and reached out to shake his hand. "Good to see you alive, old son," Aelfred said, taking a seat on a stool he pulled close to Teldin's bed. "Hope you don't mind a visit."

Teldin snorted. "Gomja was going to keep people out for me, but you must have missed him. Don't worry about it. How are things going here?"

"Well," Aelfred started, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped together in front of him. His crooked smile faded, then was gone. "I've got some bad news, some good news, and some more bad news."

Grimacing, Teldin tried to prepare himself. "What?"

"The first bad news is that we did lose a few people," Aelfred said, not looking Teldin in the eye. "Asinwilk, the stern castle catapult crewman, he drowned, and Bor Oxeman and that new priest, Garioth, they were killed in the lower bridge by that catapult shot. We haven't found five others: Varisot, Mamnilla, Old Hok, Mithko the Elder, and Yishi Narsh, the cook. They could have fallen off anywhere in space or in the lake. We just don't know. Yishi was probably in the galley when it was hit."

Aelfred looked down at his interlocked fingers. His eyes saw nothing there. Teldin remembered Mamnilla and Old Hok, lying on the deck as Teldin had hovered over the ship in his dream, or whatever state the cloak had produced. Mamnilla had had a warped sense of humor for a halfling. An empty place formed in Teldin's stomach. He tried not to take it personally, but he knew he was the cause of all these deaths-he and his cloak.

"The good side," Aelfred went on, "is that the rest of us survived, which comes to thirty-nine people that you saved. The gnomes have their healers-real healers and priests-working on the crew, and we're getting back on our feet. They told us we should be at full strength by the day after tomorrow. Now, we go back to the bad news again."

Aelfred paused, not looking at Teldin, and swallowed. "The Probe's just scrap, I'm told," he said, no emotion in his voice. "The orcs, or whatever they were up there, did for us pretty well. You got us out of there in time, but the ship's going for kindling." Aelfred gave Teldin a rueful smile. "At least I got to be her captain for a while."

"I'm sorry," Teldin said. He was blanketed in misery. He knew more than ever that his presence threatened everyone he had ever cared about. "It's my fault," he mumbled. "I shouldn't have stayed and put you and everyone else in so much danger. The neogi, the mind flayers, the orcs, they want this cloak"-he gestured at the silver "necklace" at his throat, the cloak being kept small so it was out of the way-"and I couldn't even give it to them if I wanted to."

Aelfred made a short gesture as if brushing away a fly. "Don't talk like that. You're not getting anywhere with self-pity. We chose to be with you even though we knew it would be hard going. We stuck together, and you pulled our roast out of the cooking fire when things balled up." Aelfred rubbed at his face. "The point of all this is that my crew has nowhere to go, and some of them are thinking about staying here. They're not that crazy about gnomes, but they'd rather either settle down here and work or else wait for the next freighter that stops by and sign on her, no matter where she's bound. I released them all of their duties as of this morning, and paid them off with what the gnomes salvaged from the currency locker in my cabin. Everyone's staying here at the infirmary for now, but soon they're going to start going their own ways." Aelfred hesitated. "And Sylvie and I are going our own ways, too, old son."

I'm going to miss you, Teldin was ready to say, feeling even more depressed and responsible for the whole mess.

"So," said Aelfred, rising to his feet and stretching his right leg gingerly. "As soon as you get off your lazy ass and get some real food in you instead of this scavver dung they've been feeding us all, you and Sylvie and I are going to see this sage the elves want us to see. And if I have any luck at all along the way, I'm going to make some space orcs damned unhappy that they shot up my ship."

Teldin stared at Aelfred with an open mouth. The captain leaned down and gave Teldin a healthy punch in the shoulder. "I've also got to teach you about landing ships if you're going to spelljam them, if that's what you did to get us down. A blind-drunk liar bird would have done better. And I haven't forgotten that other problem you and I were going to work on, either. We can't do anything about it here, since all they have available are gnome women-unless you like that type-but we'll work on it." With a crooked, bowing grin, the blond warrior waved and headed for the door, letting himself out.

"You old dog, you," Teldin said, staring at the door. I can't believe you still want to travel with me, he thought. I just can't believe it. For the first time in ages, he felt a sense of lightness inside him.

"Hey!" came Gaye's voice from under the bed. "What kind of problem are you having? And why did he say you couldn't do anything about it here because of the gnome women?"

Teldin closed his eyes for a moment. "Gaye," he said wearily, "it's none of your business."

The kender, now covered in dust balls from her black hair to her tanned legs, scrambled to her feet. "They don't sweep very well in here," she said conversationally, brushing herself off beside Teldin's bed and scattering dust clouds everywhere. "Well, if you don't want to talk about your deep, dark problem, then maybe you'll talk about it later when we get to the fal. Aelfred told the navigator that a fal was like a snail, only a zillion times bigger. Is that true? Why are we supposed to go see a snail, anyway?"

"You know," Teldin said irritably, "I don't recall that any invitation was extended to you or to anyone else for a chance to go on this expedition."

"Really?" Gaye said, unfazed. "We were all going there anyway until we crashed here. What's the difference?" She wiped her hands off on Teldin's sheets again. "Anyway, I've already been talking with the gnomes. I told them you were looking for the Spelljammer, and they were quite excited about helping us out. So get some rest." Gaye patted Teldin's shoulder. "You've been a big hero, but you need a little more nap time. Then we'll visit the big snail and find the Spelljammer and tell all our friends about it."

The kender padded over to the window and hoisted herself onto the ledge with youthful grace. Turned so that she faced out, she leaned back and gave Teldin a last wave.

"I'll ask Aelfred if I can help with your problem, whatever it is," she called, then swung herself off the ledge, disappearing from view.

"No!" Teldin cried, half sitting up. He waited with terror for the awful crash that he knew would follow as the crazy kender hit the ground.

No crash came. Wind stirred the tree leaves outside the window. Some very loud machine could be heard in the distance, probably a fan boat rumbling across the lake.

Teldin swung his feet off the bed, wadded up the now-filthy sheets, and carefully made his way over to the window. Thanks to the gnomes' healing magic, his legs had outwardly recovered from their injuries on the Probe, but they ached abominably with every step. Limping to the window, he peered down to find a trace of the kender.

There was nothing on the ground but grass, running right up to the infirmary walls. Gaye was nowhere in sight.

Stunned, Teldin looked down at the wall itself. There were no handholds, no pipes, nothing at all that she possibly could have used to climb up the wall to his window. He looked up, and it was then that he saw the last bit of a piece of rope flick over the roofs gutter, pulled up by unseen hands, Gaye's. Teldin felt a stab of admiration with his relief.

He was heading back to his bed when he heard short footsteps outside, marching up to his door. As he swung his feet under the sheets again, shaking the dust off as well as he could, Teldin heard a rapid, continuous knocking sound from a spot low on the door.

"I'm busy," he said, too worn out to see anyone else. He figured the knocker had to be a gnome, and his legs were still aching from moving around. He fell back on the pillow and stared at the ceiling.

Haifa minute passed before the knocking resumed, Maybe if I tried real hard, Teldin thought, I could choke myself with this cloak and save the neogi and everyone else the trouble. Maybe then I could get some rest.

The knocking went on and on.

"Come in!" Teldin shouted in surrender. "Just come in!"

"I'm not bothering you, am I?" came a voice outside his door. It was Dyffed. "I wouldn't do this, you understand, but some matters have come up since we landed here, and I felt that I should probably discuss them with you when you had a free moment, and I didn't think you'd be doing anything right now, so I thought I'd come by and-"

"Come in, come in, come in, come in, come in!" Teldin shouted, too tired to throw something at the door.

"Ah, then I'm glad I'm not bothering you," said Dyffed cheerily, letting himself in. Sporting a thick bandage on top of his bald head, tied down with a strip of white cloth, the little gnome also wore a new set of gold-rimmed spectacles, probably having lost his previous pair in the ship crash. He was dressed in maroon pants, a white shirt with a round, stiff front made of white paper, and a gaudy green-and-gold jacket with at least eight pockets visible on the front. His short beard was neatly trimmed, and Teldin could tell that the gnome had probably had a bath, his first in a while.

"You're looking splendid, if a bit pale," said the gnome, beaming up at Teldin from the side of the bed. "They've gone and put you in the humans' ward, too, so the doorknobs are all at your height and the water closets don't bump your ankles and you can sleep without feeling you've been stuck in a bookshelf. Simply splendid. I must tell you, your joke about One Six Nine is quite the rage around the yacht club, and even First Commodore Smedlookinblakburdincan was quite beside himself, laughed until he nearly vomited and had to be taken outside and given water. Marvelous sense of humor, but that's not why I'm here. Just sign these." The gnome pulled a stained sheaf of papers from an inside pocket of his jacket and spread them out on Teldin's chest. He then produced a short, black stick with a coppery point on one end. "You can use my portable hydraulic transcription device if you like," he added, "but mind the ink. Refilling it takes four hours."

Teldin made no move to take the black stick. He valiantly resisted the urge to punch the gnome in the nose. "What are you talking about? What are these?"

"Ah," said the gnome, pointing a stubby finger at various sections of the papers as he spoke. "This is a legal statement giving me permission to accompany your expedition to the Spelljammer-not just any spelljammer, of course, but the one-and-only Spelljammer- purely for scientific purposes. This is a release form that absolves you from any responsibility for all accidents, illnesses, or injuries, to include death and/or dismemberment, that I might suffer while in your company. This is a release form that absolves me from any responsibility for all accidents, illnesses, or injuries, to include death and/or dismemberment, that you might suffer as a result of anything that I do for research purposes. This is a waver that grants-" Teldin snatched the papers out of Dyffed's hands and almost wadded them into a ball. Instead, with the greatest single effort of willpower he ever recalled using, he carefully handed them back to the gnome. "I am not signing anything," Teldin said with finality, "and it doesn't matter if you want to go or not. We have no ship. We're stuck here."

"Oh, but we do have a ship," Dyffed corrected him. "The Board of Admirals has given us an excellent ship from the naval ya-um, um, yacht docks, silly of me-an excellent ship from the yacht docks, ready for its trial run. Within a few days, we shall be off to see One Six Nine."

The charade about the "yacht club," on top of everything else, managed to push Teldin's temper to its limits. "Why do you persist in calling this a yacht dub?" he demanded. He half sat up in bed again, feeling his face flush with anger. "This is a naval base for spelljammers, isn't it? Gnome spelljammers?"

"Shhh!" Panicked, Dyffed waved his hands in front of Teldin's face. "Careless vocalizations produce maritime disasters!" he hissed, glancing fearfully at the open window.

"Damn it, everyone knows this is a naval base!" Teldin protested. "I knew that when Gomja brought me ashore on his boat! All the gnomes wear uniforms, you have huge catapult and ballista towers surrounding this valley, you have a military dry dock, and even your security commander told me it was a naval base!" As he uttered those last words, Teldin instantly wished he could take them back. He had undoubtedly just sunk Gomja's whole career.

"First Colonel-Commander Herphan Gomja has a security clearance that allows him to say it's a naval base, but you don't!" Dyffed retorted, unfazed. "As Colonel-Commander Gomja says, the void holds many foes, even if that's not logically correct because a void should be empty and hold nothing. Regardless, we ask that you please not refer to this base, the lake, or the airspace above it, out to a fifty-mile altitude, as anything other than a yacht club. If our enemies knew that we were working on a coherent-beam, synergized thaumamplifer here, they'd-" The gnome froze, his face filled with horror at his words. "No! I meant, if they only knew we were working on a secret birthday party for the admirals here, they'd be all over us. It's the nature of space monsters, always crashing birthday parties." Dyffed drew a shuddering sigh, his face pale. "I've been working on this weapons project for so long, I almost forgot the code words."

Teldin thought about this latest revelation. Whatever this secret weapon was, he didn't want to be around when it was set off. "Forgive my asking," he said, "but were you working on this, uh, birthday party at the Rock of Bral?"

"What? Oh, yes, I was. Their library was of considerable help, too, though I don't think they understood a scrap of what I was doing there. Elves!" The gnome rolled his eyes. "Wonderful people, of course, but absolutely no concept of real science. The admiral and I got along quite famously, though, thanks to his interest in the Spelljammer-that's the one-and-only Spelljammer, of course, not just any spelljammer. We used to talk about that for days. He must have asked me a thousand questions about it. That's the sort of thing that happens when you get a proper schooling, none of this 'Everything I Needed to Know I Learned on Dungeon Level One' nonsense. That was why he had me go with you, so I could perform a scientific analysis of the Spelljammer when you found it, then answer all of his own questions about it later."

The gnome paused for breath, and Teldin broke in. His worst suspicions were dangerously close to being confirmed. "What kind of questions was Admiral Cirathorn asking about the Spelljammer?"

Dyffed hesitated, lost in thought. "Oh, the usual things, of course, that a scholar of history might ask. How big was it, what kind of weapons would it carry, how could you control it, where would you find it, what sorts of military things might you do with it if you had it, would your cloak have any effect on it, that sort of thing. Natural curiosity."

Natural curiosity, hell, Teldin thought. I should have known. Why in the name of the Abyss do I keep trusting everyone I meet and hoping they won't stab me in the back with the first chance they get? I never thought the elves would do it, but I've not been seeing this in perspective. The Spelljammer is more valuable than gold; it's real, raw power, and no one can turn away from it, not the neogi, not the mind flayers, not the pirates, evidently not the orcs who attacked us, and apparently not even the elves. Possibly not even the gnomes.

"At any rate," Dyffed went on cheerfully, "my research assistants and I shall accompany you when you leave to find the Spelljammer. We're going to find out what makes the Spelljammer squeal, as they say, but first we'll be off to see dear old One Six Nine. I've communicated with him only by parcel for the last sixty years. He was quite a help to me on the, uh, um, birthday party. We'll be bringing it with us, by the way. It should be a marvelous trip."

Night fell across the face of Ironpiece. Watches changed at the naval base, and spelljammers began landing in the evening, the last of those returning from the battle that had been joined after the Probe's escape. Teldin heard from various nurses and technicians that the humanoid and elven ships had fought each other mercilessly, but both sides had been driven away from Ironpiece by the gnomes' dreadnoughts, deathglories, spellfighters, and other craft. Confusion had reigned at first as to whether the elves were allies or enemies, but the matter was resolved on a practical level when an elven man-o-war opened fire on a deathglory. From that point on, it was every side for itself. As usual, the gnomes took the greatest casualties from their own experimental weapons. Once the humanoids had retreated and the elves had simply vanished (minus one of their man-o-wars), the gnomes had mopped up and gone home. Teldin went to sleep with a certain amount of satisfaction at the news.

The infirmary's inhabitants slept. In the dark corridors, a handful of gnome attendants snored on their stools or wrote medical notes by candlelight. One of them was in the middle of listing a series of proposed experiments to determine the best design for a new lighting system for the infirmary-one that would not burn the place to the ground, as the previous natural-gas system had done sixty years earlier. She finished with another page, admiring the simplicity of her design-to have giant, refillable wicks installed in the walls-and set it on the ever-growing pile beside her.

"Somnoluncia, parafar, nombilbulum" came a whispered voice from the darkness down the hall to her left.

Startled, the gnome looked up-and immediately started to yawn. She leaned back, a quill pen and a stack of unblemished paper sliding from her lap as she fell off her stool. A soft thump sounded as she hit the floor, accompanied by the sound of an upended ink bottle rolling away across the floor to empty its contents in a widening puddle.

Out of the darkness came a darker thing, floating soundlessly up to the snoring gnome. The figure observed the slow rise and fall of her chest, then moved on to the door on her right. There the figure took a last look around-then it simply moved through the entry as if the door did not exist.

Beyond the door the darkness was broken by faint light from a window. After an appropriate wait to assure that the rhythmic breathing from the bed in the room was genuine, the figure silently drifted closer. A lone being slept there, curled up like a baby. The sheets were bunched up at the foot of the bed. Peace was written across the sleeper's face.

The dark figure raised a finger of white jointed bone and pointed it at the sleeper's head.

"Obedia ooamei, ptejarki noh," it said quietly. The rhythmic breathing from the victim immediately became heavier and deeper. The sleeper's eyes opened and stared at the wall, seeing nothing. The dark thing felt relief. The controlling spell had worked on the first attempt.

"Much from me this spell has cost, but much need I have of you, live meat," the dark thing whispered. "Much for me in the weeks to arrive you will do. The cloakmaster to approach I dare not. Dangerous he is, and because of him my not-servants exist not. But you in my service will be, hidden slave with hidden master, you by all trusted, yes. My words now attend you will, much to learn, and my dreams to fulfil. Power everlasting mine will be, the cosmos to hold."

The dark figure spread its arms wide, covering the window and the light, and began the next enchantment.

The following morning, before Teldin forced his own release from the infirmary, Gomja visited him and announced he, too, would be going with Teldin to find the Spelljammer.

"I don't understand," Teldin said. He stopped rubbing his knees to ease the aching in them. "Why would you leave your work here? You've got everything you've ever wanted."

Gomja sighed, sitting on a heavy crate and looking at a spot on the floor. "I know, sir, but the gnomes decided that they need a marine commander aboard the ship they're taking to the Spelljammer, and they felt that I was the best choice. The commanders that I replaced wanted their old jobs back, too. It's all for the best." He looked uncomfortable and dropped his voice as he looked up. "Besides, sir, not a lot has been going on here, and I've been hoping for a little more action. I'm also worried that you might need a strong arm at your side, given your current goals."

Teldin grinned and shook his head. "I can't deny that, Colonel-Commander. It seems as if I'm going to have company with me, whether I want it or not." His smile faded. "To be frank, after the fight just before we crashed here, I'd almost decided to go on to the Spelljammer alone. Anyone who goes with me is in danger. I don't even think I can trust the elves on this one. They're as eager to get their little hands on this cloak as everyone else."

Gomja said nothing, but still stared at the floor. Teldin leaned forward and slapped the giff on the shoulder. "It will be good having you with me again," he said with feeling. "I need someone I can trust. I don't have many these days, and you, Aelfred, and Sylvie are about it."

The giff looked up into Teldin's face for a moment with an unreadable expression. "Thank you, sir," he finally said. The floorboards groaned as he eased himself to his broad, round feet. "I'll get my things then."

"Do that," Teldin said. "I'm getting the hell out of here right now myself." He waved as the giff left, then went back to collecting the few things that his rescuers had managed to bring to him from the wreck. The worst loss was the sheaf of papers about the Spelljammer that Cirathorn had given him. The scroll tube must have come loose during the crash, meaning that it was undoubtedly resting on the bottom of Lake Crashsplash this very moment. He gritted his teeth at the thought, but there was no help for it. Maybe this slug, One Six Nine or whatever it was, would know more.

Teldin slung his small bag of personal belongings over his shoulder, then looked the room over before he left. Seeing that it was fairly clean, he closed the door behind him and set off down the hall in search of real food.

At least, he reflected as he started down the stairs, he would be traveling with people he knew he could trust.