"Except in one important point," Aelfred cut in as he set a pewter goblet down in front of Teldin. "Estriss won't try to steal your girl." He settled his bulk into a chair and lifted his booted feet up onto the table. He raised his own goblet. "Health, to both of you."
"Health." Teldin echoed the toast and took a tentative sip from the goblet. The sharp, somehow smoky taste and the tingling of his tongue identified the drink at once. It was a liquor called sagecoarse, distilled-so Aelfred had told him-from an extract of the plant bearing the same name. Neither drink nor plant was native to either Toril or Krynn. Apparently the burly first mate had discovered the liquor on some backwater world in another sphere, had developed a taste for it, and had ever since made sure he had a good supply available.
"It's an acquired taste," Aelfred had told him when he'd first poured him a sample, on Teldin's second day aboard the Probe. Teldin could easily accept that, but had wondered why anybody would bother. Now, however, after a few more opportunities to sample the liquor, Teldin found he didn't mind the flavor and rather enjoyed the sharp, tingling sensation it caused on his tongue. He'd never had any great penchant for hard liquor, though, and that attitude certainly wasn't going to be changed by sagecoarse. Whether or not it was unsophisticated-as Aelfred jokingly claimed-he still preferred a foaming tankard of good ale.
The mind flayer's silent words brought him back to the present. Teldin wished to discuss the arcane, Estriss said. He has-the illithid paused-a curiosity about the other races of the universe, as he has just shown. Estriss fixed Teldin with a white-eyed look.
The significance of neither the pause nor the look was lost on Teldin. Estriss was clearly leaving it up to him whether or not he told Aelfred anything about the cloak. Teldin hesitated. He trusted Aelfred, but if he broached the subject now, he'd be bogged down in what, at the moment, were irrelevancies. He could always tell Aelfred later. "That's right," Teldin said smoothly, "I'm curious. Tell me about the arcane."
It was Aelfred who answered first. "Merchants," he grunted. "Traders. Gypsies of space. It doesn't matter who the customers are. If there's money in it, they'll deal."
Stripped of the negative emotion, Estriss continued, the statements are accurate. The arcane are a race of humanoids- blue of skin and perhaps twice your height, but otherwise not that different in appearance from humans.
"Maybe to an illithid," Aelfred snorted, but his quick smile robbed the words of any offense. "Wait till you see one, Teldin."
They are traders, Estriss continued patiently. It is the arcane who are the suppliers of virtually all spacefaring technology used by my race, by yours, and by most other races in the universe. They build ships for the beholder nations, passage devices for the lizard men, planetary locators for the Elven Imperial Navy, and spelljamming helms for all and sundry.
Teldin tried to keep his bewilderment from showing on his face. Estriss had casually tossed out names and concepts as though they were well known… which they probably were to people familiar with spacefaring. Teldin had heard legends about beholders and could-with a mental stretch-imagine the eye tyrants cruising the universe in ships of their own. But an Elven Imperial Navy? There was no way he could reconcile so grand a concept with the few soul-weary refugees from Silvanesti that he'd met. The rest-passage devices and all- were just so many meaningless words.
If he were to show his confusion, he knew Estriss would quite likely explain each concept in detail and never get around to the arcane. He kept his peace.
As Aelfred has stated, Estriss was continuing, if their price is met, the. arcane will deal with anyone… with one exception. They will not trade with the neogi. He paused as if waiting for a response.
"Well, that's reassuring," Teldin offered weakly.
"Oh, aye," Aelfred said sarcastically. "The arcane won't trade with neogi, but they will trade with others, knowing full well that their customers are going to turn around and sell the goods to the neogi. I have no love for the arcane, I'll tell you that." He sighed, and his anger faded. "But it's true that we depend on them. Where do you think people like us buy the helms to run our ships? From the arcane. It's the only place you can get 'em. The blue ones are a necessary evil."
Teldin digested this for a moment, then asked, "Where's their home? Do they have their own planet?" He looked meaningfully at Estriss.
We presume they must have, the mind flayer answered, or that they once did have, but its location-or perhaps its fate- is known only to the arcane….
"And they're not telling," Aelfred finished. "Oh, various groups have tried to find out. Some want to know just because they're curious, others because they think the knowledge will give them power. Maybe they think they can blackmail the arcane or something like that. Others, I'm sure, want to find it so they can conquer it, and then they'll own all the arcane'; technology or magic or whatever it is that lets them create spelljamming helms. I like that one," he scoffed. "As if a race with that much power is going to let anyone just waltz in and take over."
"So the arcane are powerful at magic?" Teldin speculated.
Aelfred shrugged. "I guess they'd have to be. Spelljamming helms aren't technological, not the way you're probably thinking. If the arcane can create them-which, I suppose, isn't a sure thing-that means they're capable of enchanting powerful artifacts."
Teldin found himself fingering the hem of the cloak. He took his hand away quickly. "The arcane's world," he went on. "Nobody's found it?"
"Not even a clue," Aelfred said positively. "Nobody even knows what crystal shell it's in, or even if it exists anymore. There are legends, of course. Just about every group that's ever had dealings with the arcane has some kind of folk tale about them."
"Tell me some," Teldin said.
"Well…" The warrior thought for a moment. "There's one that the arcane's world isn't in a crystal sphere at all, and that they've hidden it off somewhere in the flow. Impossible, of course. Then there's the one I like. According to a thri-kreen legend, the arcane traded their home world to some elder god for the Spelljammer-you've heard of the Spelljammer?" Teldin nodded, controlling his impulse to look at Estriss. "Well, the legend goes on that the arcane couldn't control the Spelljammer and that they somehow caused their world to fall into its sun, destroying it. That's why they're interstellar vagabonds."
"Do you believe that?" Teldin asked.
Aelfred looked a little scornful. "Of course I don't. It's just a good story."
Teldin allowed himself a sidelong glance at Estriss. "So where would you go if you want to meet an arcane?" he asked casually.
"Anywhere," Aelfred replied offhandedly. "You're as likely-or as unlikely-to find a space-gypsy in any port city on any world in any crystal sphere as… Or, at least, any world that knows about spelljamming," he amended.
"How about on Toril?" Teldin suggested.
It was Estriss who answered him. There are probably many arcane on Toril. I have met one in Calimport and another in Waterdeep. I hear rumors that they run an open trading post at a place called the Dock in the Wu Pi Te Shao Mountains, but I doubt this is true. He paused. Since they almost invariably work through human intermediaries, and reveal their presence only when it suits them to do so, there may be arcane in many cities of Toril.
Teldin digested that for a moment. "What about… where is it we're going?"
Rauthaven, the illithid responded, then paused. I have heard from travelers that at least two arcane dwell on the Beacon Rocks, northeast of the city, in the Great Sea. I am almost certain that there will be an arcane in Rauthaven, if only temporarily.
"Why?" Teldin wondered.
Because of the auction I wish to attend. It seems likely that the arcane will be interested in many of the same artifacts as I am, and that they will send at least one representative to view them… and perhaps bid to acquire them.
"They're interested in the Juna, too?" Teldin asked in surprise. Before Estriss could answer, he went on, puzzled, "But I thought you said the arcane inh
erited their powers from the Juna in the first place. If that's true, why would they be interested in old stuff that a collector's had for years?"
Estriss was silent for a moment. His facial tentacles writhed, seemingly about to tie themselves in knots… and Teldin realized he now knew what illithid embarrassment looked like. That is my theory, about the origin of the mane's knowledge, Estriss admitted finally, but the arcane I have spoken with deny it, though such a secretive race would probably deny it even if it were true. In fact… The illithid's mental voice slowed down, as if he were unwilling to go on. In fact, the arcane I have spoken with claim to consider all my theories about the Juna as so much foundationless speculation. There was no such race as the Juna, they claim. He raised a three-fingered hand as if to forestall Teldin's next question. Certainly, I believe that if there is an arcane in attendance at the auction, it will lend some credence to my beliefs.
Teldin shook his head. He was convinced there was a logical flaw in the illithid's argument somewhere, but he didn't feel the urge to pursue it. Estriss was entitled to his own beliefs-even to his own monomania, because that's what his research was starting to sound like-and while Teldin found the theories interesting on a casual level, the main issue came down to finding an arcane.
That, Teldin was sure, was very important. Despite the illithid's apparent belief to the contrary, Teldin was more and more of the opinion that the arcane were the "creators" he'd been sent to find. The only way he could think of to confirm this was to talk to an arcane-a situation that would represent its own risks and problems, of course. If Estriss was right, there would be an arcane in Rauthaven… and it might be better if he let the mind flayer think that's what Teldin expected. If not, it shouldn't be too difficult to get passage to the Beacon Rocks. After all, after a voyage from one world to another, how difficult could it be to get to some islands? And if the tales of arcane on the Beacon Rocks proved false, then Aelfred should be able to tell him how to get to Calimport or Waterdeep.
His reflections were interrupted by the loud clanging of a bell, apparently from on deck. He heard running footsteps in the corridor.
Aelfred catapulted out of his chair and flung open the saloon door. "What?" he bellowed.
A crewman who'd been running by-it was the old man, Shandess, Teldin saw-stopped to answer. "Ship ahoy, sir, approaching fast."
"What ship?" Aelfred demanded.
"Lookout says deathspider, sir."
Aelfred nodded. "Battle stations," he ordered. As Shandess ran on, Aelfred turned to Estriss. "Captain?"
Illithid and human left the saloon together. Teldin sat alone in the wash of flow-light, a cold fist of fear tightening on his heart.
Chapter Six
Much of the fear remained-of course!-but after a dozen or so heartbeats Teldin was able to shake off the worst of the mind-numbing terror that kept him frozen in his seat. He forced himself to his feet. Where would Estriss and Aelfred be during battle stations? The bridge, of course.
The forward bridge was almost as crowded as it had been during the passage into the phlogiston. The captain and first mate were there, as he'd expected, as were Sylvie and Sweat Tobregdan. Vallus Leafbower was conspicuously absent, but his place was filled by two others, whom Teldin had met but had barely spoken to: Liono Marlot and Bubbo.
The latter two made an almost absurd contrast; even in his present state, Teldin could appreciate that. Liono Marlot, the ship's "tactician," was a quick-tongued man, slender in build, and short. The top of his gray head came up to Teldin's chin… and up to Bubbo's armpit. Bubbo-if the man had a second name, Teldin had never heard it used-was the Probe's weapons master, and his body matched the scale of the ship's heavy weapons, which were his responsibility and chief interest. He was a black-bearded mountain of a man with a good layer of fat sheathing powerful muscles. Friendly in a gruff sort of way, Bubbo would never use two words when one would do and seemed to prefer using none at all. Despite these differences, or perhaps because of them, Liono and Bubbo were fast friends and inveterate drinking companions in the saloon when both were off duty. Their normal camaraderie was absent now, and they shared the same air of tense expectation as the rest of the bridge crew.
Everyone's gaze was fixed firmly forward, presumably toward the approaching neogi vessel. Teldin scanned the bizarre sky of the flow. It was hard to make out anything against that background, through the intervening ribbons and sheets of color.
Finally he picked it out. At this range it was just a black dot, but Teldin's mind and memory filled in the details: a grossly swollen black body and the eight angular legs that gave the deathspider its name. Teldin fought the desperate urge to turn aside, to cover his eyes… to hide, but there was no safety in that. He struggled to force down the terrible memories that threatened to paralyse him. "Fear is the great killer," his grandfather had once told him. "Conquer that, and the battle is halfway yours." How would the old man deal with this, he wondered, a foe he'd never known existed, in an environment he could never have imagined? Very well, more than likely, Teldin admitted with grim humor. In any case, the thought of the old man's calm wisdom seemed to lend him strength. He forced the fear from his mind and observed.
"When did we drop to tactical speed?" Aelfred asked. "I had the alert bell rung as soon as the ship was sighted," Sweor Tobregdan answered.
Aelfred looked upward at the overhead. "What heading the deathspider?" he bellowed.
After a moment, the answer echoed down from above- presumably from the spotter on the forecastle, or maybe relayed down from the high lookout in the crow's nest atop the mast. "Still directly toward us."
The first mate glanced over at Estriss and nodded in answer to a silent order. "Hard a-port," he boomed.
It was impossible to sense the ship's maneuver from watching the flow itself, but the black spot that was the deathspider shifted slowly to the right until it vanished behind the bulkhead.
"We should fight this from the forecastle," Aelfred said grimly.
"It's a fight, then?" This from Sylvie.
Aelfred raised an eyebrow skeptically. "With neogi? Of course it's a fight." He looked around the bridge. "Sylvie, stay below. Sweor, head aft. If we have visitors, I want you in command." Without a further word, he strode to one of the ladders that led up to the forecastle and started to climb. The others-Estriss, Bubbo and Liono-followed him, while Sweor left through the aft door.
Teldin hesitated. What about him? He wasn't an officer, not strictly speaking, but Aelfred, Estriss, and the others certainly seemed to accept him as more than just another crewman. He had no battle station duties-at least, nobody had told him what they were. Probably the best thing he could do would be to stay belowdecks and keep out of everyone's way, but he wanted to see what was happening. He didn't think he could stand knowing there was a neogi ship out there, apparently closing for the attack, but not being able to see how the battle was going. He didn't want to depend on what little information might trickle down to him. That was a sure recipe for madness.
Besides, Aelfred hadn't specifically told him to stay on the bridge, or to go anywhere else, for that matter. Teldin looked over at Sylvie, who was still standing by the map table. The lovely half-elf seemed to sense his scrutiny, and his thoughts. "I don't think they'll mind if you go up," she said with a quick smile. "Just stay out of the way."
Teldin returned her smile. "Sometimes I think that's what I'm best at." He scrambled up the portside ladder.
The. forecastle turret was fully manned-Dana was among the four-person crew, Teldin noticed-and the heavy ballista had been pivoted around to point roughly astern. The large weapon had been cranked back, and a huge bolt placed in position, ready for a shot as soon as the enemy drew into range.
Estriss, Aelfred, Bubbo, and Liono were at the aft rail of the forecastle, near the mainmast. The first mate had a spyglass to his eye. Teldin moved aft, just close enough so he could hear their conversation, but not close enough to get in anyone's way. He squatted do
wn, his back against the sloped metal wall of the turret. He looked out into the flow in the direction that Aelfred's glass and the ballista were pointing. It didn't take him long to spot the neogi vessel. It was still too far away to show as anything other than a black dot… but wasn't that dot looking bigger?
"She's still closing," Aelfred was saying. "She's fast, faster than the Probe." He lowered the spyglass and glanced over at Estriss. "No," he responded to a silent question from the illithid. "Vila's on the Helm. Thorn just got off duty, so he can't do anything." A pause-obviously another question. Aelfred frowned and shook his head. "No," he replied definitely. "We'd be faster if Vallus took the helm, but not much. Probably not enough to make a difference. Plus we'd lose ground during the changeover." He bared his teeth in an expression that mixed smile with snarl. "And finally, I want Vallus's spells. They're the only equalizer we've got."
Even through his fear, Teldin was able to notice-and be fascinated by-the dynamics of power that occurred between Estriss and Aelfred. The illithid was captain of the Probe, and everyone including Aelfred treated the creature with deference and respect,… but it seemed as though the captaincy might be in name only. Certainly, Aelfred seemed to have taken over the reins of command at the moment, and Estriss appeared unconcerned and uninclined to challenge his authority. Why is that? Teldin wondered. Because the crew would rather follow a human master? No, that didn't make sense. When Estriss issued orders, all the crew obeyed them willingly.
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