Into the Void s-2

by Nigel Findley

  And to me. Liquid words formed in Teldin's mind. He looked up to see Estriss standing in the doorway. My day to be surprised, he thought. May I join you? the illithid asked. Both Aelfred and Teldin waved the mind flayer to a seat. "I don't really know what to say," Teldin told his warrior friend. "I should have been honest with you from the start. I just…"

  Aelfred gestured him to silence. "Water under the keel," he said flatly. "You didn't know if you could trust me, so you held your tongue. If you want to keep breathing in this universe, that's what you've got to do. In fact," he added thoughtfully, "you should still ask yourself that question: Do you trust me? Don't answer too fast. You can always say something later, but you can't unsay it." He sat back, watching Teldin calmly.

  Teldin considered the big warrior's words for a moment, then nodded. "I'm going to tell you," he said firmly. "What happened today-"

  The illithid's mental voice cut him off. Background is often important, Estriss said, and in this case I feel it is key. Perhaps you should start from the beginning.

  Teldin nodded agreement. Quickly but thoroughly he repeated the tale of how he'd come to possess the cloak, of his encounters with the neogi, and how he'd escaped from Krynn with the gnomes. Throughout, Aelfred remained silent, taking it all in. Teldin watched the big man's intelligent eyes. He quickly recognized the flicker that indicated that he'd left something out or hadn't given enough detail, and made sure to remedy that immediately. As a result, there was no need for questions. "That takes us up to today," Teldin eventually concluded.

  Aelfred rubbed his tired eyes. "Improbable, incredible, impossible," he grumbled. "If I hadn't seen what I saw today, I wouldn't believe a word of it."

  The power is there, Estriss interjected, and the tale has its own kind of consistency.

  "I know that," Aelfred countered, "and I don't disbelieve you, Teldin. It's just that…" He waved his hand in the air to indicate confusion. "I don't understand magic… and truth be told, I don't trust it or like it much, not deep down." He sighed. "You've got no idea who these… these creators are?"

  "Estriss believes they might be the Juna," Teldin answered slowly.

  Aelfred let out a bark of laughter. "Well, he would, now, wouldn't he? No offense meant, Estriss. It's just that you-or anybody, I'm no different-you're going to see everything through your own interests and preconceptions." He shot Teldin a keen glance. "What do you think?"

  Teldin hesitated a moment, then shrugged.

  The first mate laughed again. "Playing it close to the chest, I see. Of course you don't know who the creators are. Of course you don't have any suspicions. And of course your interest in the arcane was just coincidental. Well, I freely admit I know nothing of such things." The big man's humor faded, and his face grew serious again. "This cloak has cost a lot," he pointed out quietly.

  Teldin felt cold. The cost weighed heavily on him, probably always would. All the deaths-the gnomes in Mount Nevermind, the crewmen aboard the Probe-were his fault, and would haunt him for the rest of his life. He nodded miserably. Aelfred's hand grasped his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. Teldin looked up. The warrior's expression was still grim, but there was understanding in his eyes. "Don't get me wrong," the first mate told him. "It's cost you, too. I'm not blaming you. Nobody who knew the facts could. You had no choice through any of this." He spat a curse. "Neogi. May the gods damn them to the lowest pits of the Nine Hells. How did they find us anyway?"

  It seems possible the neogi are able to somehow track the cloak, Estriss remarked.

  "How?" Teldin demanded, very glad that the conversation was on another subject. "You said you could only sense magic from it when it actually did something."

  Estriss gave a broken-backed shrug. Through the use of my limited abilities, yes, he admitted, but that does not mean that others cannot sense it even in its dormant state. In fact, there are many legends that tell how various artifacts have other artifacts that are attuned to them. The illithid paused. There is also another possibility. Perhaps, when the cloak's power is used, the characteristics of that power can be detected and recognized from a distance. Did you first experience the powers of the cloak before or after the neogi pursuit began?

  Teldin searched back through his memory to the start of this whole affair: not long ago, in the grand scheme of things, but it seemed now like a lifetime. Memories had begun to fade…. When had he first realized there was something unique about the cloak? Surely it was soon after the ship crashed, but was that before or after the first spidership had arrived? "It was after," he said slowly, "I think."

  "You're not sure," Aelfred said flatly, "and how could you be? How could you know just what the cloak was doing, and when? Hells, it could have been protecting you from bird droppings from the first moment you saw it, and you just thought the birds had lousy aim." The warrior grumbled into silence for a moment, then took off on another tangent. "Neogi aren't common in Krynnspace," he mused. "It's one of the few places you're reasonably safe from them, but what happens? We take you-and your cloak-aboard, and we get intercepted by a deathspider. Coincidence?"

  Perhaps, Estriss replied. It happens.

  "I know it happens," Aelfred rumbled, "but think. We know there were neogi in Krynnspace, the ones who were after Teldin. It's possible-vaguely-that we were just unlucky enough to run into them, but do you know what the odds are of passing another ship in the flow so close that you're dropped to tactical speed?"

  It happens, Estriss said again. Neogi, by nature, will attack my ship they encounter. That means nothing one way or the other.

  Aelfred growled in frustration. "I know, I know, but I can't help thinking. If the neogi can track the cloak somehow, that explains how they intercepted us. It makes me wonder, Teldin. Those pirates who attacked the gnomish dreadnought, were they pirates? Just pirates? Or were they after the dreadnought for a reason?"

  You may as well ask why the Probe happened along when it did, Estriss put in mildly.

  Aelfred had no answer for a moment, then he smiled ruefully. "Aye, I know," he said, "that way lies paranoia." He turned to Teldin. "We've been arguing past you as though you've got nothing to say, while you're the person who can probably say the most. Have you got anything to add, or ask, or anything?"

  Teldin had to admit he'd welcomed the respite while the other two shot comments and theories back and forth. While they debated, he could pretend the whole thing was an intellectual exercise, the kind of discussion he'd sometimes overheard between his grandfather and the old man's friends: interesting in its own way, but with little relevance to the real world of crops and plantings. Now he was forced to accept how deadly serious the whole thing was.

  The other two were looking at him steadily, expecting an answer. He sighed, bone-weary of the whole burden. Why him? he asked yet again. But the burden was his, and he had to bear it as best he could. It hadn't been laid on Dana, or Sweor, or Shandess, or any of the others who'd died aboard the Probe. It had been laid on him and him alone.

  "If the neogi can somehow track the cloak," he said slowly, "if they can-and I think we have to assume they can-then I have to leave the ship."

  Teldin wasn't sure what kind of response he expected from the other two. What he didn't expect was the reaction he got from Aelfred.

  The first mate threw back his head and roared with laughter. "You'll find it a long walk back to Krynn, old son," the warrior said.

  Teldin felt his cheeks coloring. ""You can drop me on some other planet," he said sharply. "Anywhere will do."

  Aelfred sobered immediately and laid a calming hand on Teldin's shoulder. "Sorry, friend," he said earnestly. "I shouldn't have laughed. What you said was nobly said, but none too practical. If the neogi can track the cloak, then they'll come and get you wherever you hide. If you're by yourself, they'll kill you and get the cloak." He grinned deprecatingly. "Truth be told, I'm just an old mercenary. I know little about magic, and that's just the way I like it, but I do know one thing." His voice hardened
. "I've got good reason to hate the neogi, and just because they want something-whatever it is-well, that's quite enough reason to keep it away from them."

  For me as well, Estriss put in. It seems to me that the best way to keep the neogi's prize from them is to learn how to use it, to control its power. The creature's featureless white eyes settled on Teldin. But not now, the illithid finished. You are tired. Perhaps after sleep we can continue this.

  Teldin felt exhaustion wash over him like a wave. Despite his attempts to keep them open, his eyes began to hood.

  "Use my cabin," Aelfred told him. "It's certain I'm not going to get the chance for a good while."

  "Thanks," Teldin said weakly. He was tired. Maybe it was something the illithid had done-he remembered an attacker collapsing under the mind flayer's mental attack-or maybe it was something to do with the cloak. Or maybe it was something less mysterious: the stress, fear, and exertion of the day finally getting to him. In any case, he was only barely aware of Aelfred helping him across the hallway to the first mate's cabin, and sleep swallowed him the instant he lay on the bed.

  Chapter Eight

  Consciousness returned slowly. For an immeasurable time, Teldin luxuriated in a relaxed state of half-sleep, half-wakefulness. Thoughts that were almost dreams drifted through his mind. Real events of the past weeks combined with memories of his childhood. People and places mixed and matched in totally illogical combinations. Grandfather and Aelfred collaborated on teaching Teldin to use a short sword, while Estriss and Dana-now inexplicably wearing Teldin's cloak-stood on the forecastle, watching. Throughout, the only emotion he felt was mild puzzlement, not the deep pain that by rights should have accompanied some of the images.

  As he drifted closer and closer to full consciousness, he found that he could manipulate some of the thoughts, some of the images. For the first time, he could review events at least somewhat objectively. Lying there, he went over the decisions he'd made, the points where he could have turned the course of events to a different path. There were, he realized, all too few of them. His actions had been more constrained than he'd perceived. At each branch point, he'd really had only one option that made complete sense, and-he saw now-if he'd strayed from the most logical path, the outcome would almost certainly have been worse than it was now. The vast majority of other paths ended with him dead, and with the cloak in the hands of the neogi.

  So it was with a grim sense of relief-of exoneration, even of redemption-that he finally returned to full consciousness. The results of his actions still weighed heavily on him-and he knew they always would-but at least now he felt better prepared to bear the burden he'd been given.

  He opened his eyes and squinted in the flow-light that poured in through the porthole. For a moment he didn't remember exactly where he was, then memory returned fully. He was in Aelfred's cabin.

  He swung himself off the narrow bunk and looked around with interest. He'd expected the first mate's cabin to somehow match the big man's personality and background. There would be mementos mounted on the bulkheads, possibly an old, notched broadsword that he'd taken from a worthy foe or the pennant of a unit he'd fought with. There would be charts and books piled everywhere. It would be a comfortable refuge for a man who needed escape from his responsibilities.

  If Teldin had ever considered himself an infallible judge of character, Aelfred's cabin would have destroyed that notion for good. The small cabin was spartan, almost bare. There were no trophies on the bulkheads, no books-in fact, nothing at all that gave it any sense of the owner's personality. A traveling chest-presumably containing Aelfred's personal effects-was at the foot of the narrow wooden bunk. A small desk was bolted to the bulkhead beside the door, and a padded bench was mounted below the porthole. The only thing that matched Teldin's expectations was the chart: there was a star chart on the desk, held in place by small metal clips.

  In retrospect, Teldin realized that this was the kind of cabin he should have expected all along. How much time did Aelfred actually spend in his cabin? Virtually none, it seemed. The warrior was always on the bridge or wandering about the ship. To a man like that, a cabin would be a place to sleep, nothing more. Why would he bother to decorate it, or even give it the stamp of his own personality, when he'd have virtually no time to see it?

  Teldin smiled to himself. Aelfred was still something of an enigma in some ways, but Teldin was slowly coming to understand the burly warrior better.

  He stretched luxuriously. Well, he thought, it's time I was out and about. What time was it, anyway? That was something about shipboard life he'd never quite gotten used to. Whether the ship was in wildspace or in the flow, there was no way to tell what the time was just by looking. You had to depend on the ship's bell, and even then it wasn't obvious what watch it was.

  He listened for a moment. The ship was fairly quiet, no loud noises on deck. That didn't mean much, of course. After the battle with the neogi, Aelfred would probably choose to run the ship with as few people on watch as possible and give the others a chance to sleep.

  Where was Aelfred, anyway?

  Teldin opened the cabin door. A crew member was passing but stopped when she saw Teldin standing in the doorway. She edged back a little, as if to give him plenty of room.

  "What time is it?" he asked.

  "Two bells, sir."

  Teldin raised an eyebrow. "Sir," was it? The level of respect had grown even more than he'd thought. He had to admit it was pleasant, in a way, but it was based on a misinterpretation. Oh, well, he thought, there wasn't much he could do about it now.

  Two bells. That meant he'd been asleep for about eight solid hours. He stretched again, enjoying the tension in his well-rested muscles. He gestured with his thumb forward toward the bridge. "Who has forenoon watch on the bridge?" he asked.

  The woman looked at him strangely. "It's two bells in the night watch, sir," she told him.

  Absently he thanked her, and she went about her business. Night watch meant he'd been asleep for about twenty-four hours. No wonder he felt so fully rested.

  "Where's Aelfred Silverhorn?" he suddenly thought to call after the woman, but she'd already vanished down the companionway to the cargo deck. He shrugged. Odds were, the first mate was on the bridge. He started forward.

  Then a noise from across the corridor-from the officers' saloon-stopped him. It was a snorting rumble of some kind. At first he couldn't identify it, then a broad grin spread across his face. Quietly he crossed to the saloon door and opened it.

  He'd found Aelfred. The first mate was sprawled bonelessly in a chair, booted feet on the table. His arms dangled limply on both sides of the chair, so his fingers brushed the deck. His mouth hung loosely open and gave vent to the rumbling snore Teldin had heard. Gently, Teldin shut the door again. Let the man sleep, he thought, he needs it.

  Words formed in Teldin's mind. So you rejoin the land of the wakeful.

  There's one problem with mental communication, Teldin thought: you can't tell what direction it's coming from. He looked all around for Estriss.

  The illithid approached from the aft end of the corridor. Do you feel better? the creature continued.

  "Much better," Teldin replied. "I feel like I've come back to life."

  Estriss nodded. You were drained. Not simply tired, but drained. I could sense the difference.

  "What does that mean?"

  I believe it means that the cloak draws some of its energy from you, the illithid explained. The vast majority of enchanted items do not work in that way. They draw all of the energy they need from elsewhere, and the will of the user is just a trigger, not a power source as well.

  Teldin shook his head. There was something emotionally disturbing about what Estriss was saying. "Is it meant to do that?" he asked.

  I am certain it is not, Estriss told him. Suddenly, as though realizing for the first time where they were, the illithid glanced around. Some things are best spoken of in private, he said. May we continue this in my cabin?
/>   *****

  If Aelfred's cabin was devoid of personality, the mind flayer's cabin was almost overfull. Nearly every square inch of the large cabin's bulkheads was covered with some form of artwork: paintings, tapestries, and art forms that Teldin had never seen before. For example, in pride of place on the aft wall was a large, circular ring of metal more than two feet in diameter. Crisscrossing the ring were fine wires of different colors of metal. Where the wires crossed near the middle of the ring, they twisted and knotted around each other, building up into an intricate interweaving of metal threads. The pattern seemed somehow right on the edge between chaos and order. When Teldin concentrated on the arrangement, the whole thing seemed totally random, but when he didn't concentrate, just let his mind drift and experience the design without analyzing it, he couldn't avoid the feeling that there was some organization, some higher order of pattern, to the wires… but one that was just beyond his mind's ability to perceive.

  The paintings and tapestries were more familiar forms of art, but there was something unusual about them, too. In those that depicted scenery or figures, there seemed to be missing detail in certain places-surprising, since overall the works were incredibly intricate. Even the tapestries made up of abstract geometric patterns didn't look right. Otherwise regularly repeating geometric motifs seemed to be broken up here and there by featureless areas of dark red. For some reason, Teldin found those pieces mildly frustrating.

  He turned to Estriss, who'd been watching his inspection with obvious interest. "Is this illithid art?" he asked.

  It is. How do you find it?

  Teldin paused. He suddenly felt a little edgy. How much did he know about Estriss, after all? In the creature's hours of privacy in his cabin, the mind flayer might have been creating these paintings, these tapestries. Teldin didn't want to offend his friend. "Very interesting," he said enthusiastically. "I like them."