Into the Void s-2

by Nigel Findley

  Teldin held the mirror at chest level for a few heartbeats. He knew what he was going to see; there would be no surprise. How would it feel to see someone else's face in place of his? How would he react? He took a deep breath and raised the minor.

  The biggest shock was that there was no real shock. The face in the polished silver was Aelfred's, there was no doubt about that, but emotionally it had little real impact. It was as if Aelfred was standing beside him and Teldin was holding the mirror at such an angle that it reflected the other man's face. He raised his hand to his cheek again.

  That's when the shock struck him, almost powerfully enough to make him drop the mirror. It was the juxtaposition of the familiar and the bizarre again. The muscles of his arm and hand told him that he was raising his hand to his own face. The mirror told him he was reaching for Aelfred's face. The reassuring falsehood that the face in the mirror somehow wasn't associated with his body was shattered. He clenched his jaw to stop himself from whimpering with atavistic dread. In the mirror, Aelfred's face mimicked the movement.

  A touch on his shoulder made him jump. Estriss's hand squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. With an effort, Teldin brought his jumbled emotions a little more under control. "I'm all right," he said quietly. Surprisingly, his voice sounded steady in his own ears. He examined the face in the mirror again, this time trying to be more critical and less emotional in his reactions.

  There was something wrong with the image, he realized at once-apart from the total wrongness of his wearing the wrong face, of course. The individual features seemed correct, almost perfectly matching his memory of Aelfred, but there was something else, and it took him several moments to recognize it. The face was Aelfred's, but the neck and shoulders beneath it were Teldin's. Aelfred's head was large-in keeping with the rest of his body-and his neck was thick and muscular. In the mirror, the warrior's big head sat atop Teldin's relatively slender neck.

  He felt his neck with his fingers. At least there was no discontinuity there; his neck felt the way it always had. Can I change it? he wondered. He closed his eyes and started to concentrate on rebuilding his mental image of Aelfred-the neck too, this time.

  The illithid's grip on his shoulder tightened, breaking into his concentration. He opened his eyes again.

  Estriss was distressed, that was obvious from the jerky movements of his facial tentacles. No, his mental voice said urgently. Do nothing more, not for the moment. Let us move slowly. Tell me again, what do you feel?

  Teldin quickly gave himself a mental once-over. The sense of cold, of somehow being stretched- that was the only way he could describe it, even to himself-was still there. Maybe it was slightly more noticeable. He described the sensation to Estriss.

  The mind flayer nodded thoughtfully. Km are sensing the drain, he mused. You are contributing energy to the process. Estriss considered for a moment. The shapechange appears to testable, he went on. Tell me, are you concentrating on maintaining it?

  "I don't think so," replied Teldin.

  Relax, Estriss instructed. Let go. Let the change slip away.

  Obediently, Teldin took a deep breath, held it for a few heartbeats, then released it slowly. He felt tension drain out of his neck and shoulders. He repeated the process again, this time concentrating on relaxing his mind as well as his body, then he raised the mirror. Aelfred's face still looked back at him, and he felt a twinge of fear. What if he couldn't reverse the change? What would he do? "Estriss… ?"

  You are right, the illithid remarked, you do not need to concentrate on the new shape to maintain it. It must require an act of will to return to your normal form. That is good.

  "But how do I do it?" Teldin snapped.

  Try this, Estriss replied at once. Visualize Aelfred's features melting may to reveal your own.

  Teldin shut his eyes. He took another calming breath to slow his pounding heart a little, then let the image of Aelfred develop once more in his mind. This time it was much easier, and he was amazed at how quickly the details established themselves. It must be the cloak that's doing this, he found himself thinking, I don't have that good a memory for details.

  As Estriss had suggested, he imagined Aelfred's features melting away-becoming transparent and running away like water. Instantly his own, familiar features started to reappear in his mental image. The eyes became blue once more, the hair brown, the bone structure more slender. As his own face appeared, he realized that this felt quite different from when he'd had to first create a mental picture of himself. Then he'd been building up the features from nothing. Now it felt as though the features were already there, independent of his will, and he was merely revealing them. There was no sensation of power this time, not even the hint of it. Instead he felt the cold, stretched feeling fade and eventually vanish. He opened his eyes.

  Fascinating. The illithid's voice was a mental whisper.

  Teldin raised the mirror and found himself looking into his familiar bright blue eyes. He smiled with relief, and the smile in the mirror was his own.

  How do you fed now? Estriss asked.

  "Fine."

  Are you not tired?

  Teldin hesitated. "A little tired, I suppose," he said, "as though I'd walked a few miles." He hesitated. "What does it look like?" he asked suddenly. "The change…"

  It looks… unusual, Estriss answered. Your face appears to be concealed by a gray haze, similar to a smudge on a painting. When the haze vanishes, the change is complete. It was the illithid's turn to hesitate. I will admit, he said slowly, that I am glad for the haze. The sight of your features rearranging themselves-openly, without concealment-would, I think, be highly disturbing to me. He shook himself, as if to drive away an uncomfortable thought or image. Will you perform one more test for me?

  "What is it?"

  Take on another face, Estriss urged, someone other than Aelfred. I wish to see if you find it easier the second time. Just the face, he added. There is no need to risk overreaching yourself. First, however, do you object to having Aelfred Silverhorn witness this? I believe it is important that he knows-both because he is your friend, and because he should know anything that might have some significance to running the ship.

  Teldin hesitated. He agreed that Aelfred should know about this, but he knew that the big warrior felt uncomfortable about magic. Plus, "He's asleep," Teldin told the illithid.

  Estriss shrugged. I have called him. If he answers the call, he was not asleep. I repeat, do you object?

  "No."

  There was a sharp rap on the door. The illithid's mental voice rang out, Come in.

  It was Aelfred, of course. The big man looked bedraggled, Teldin noted immediately: short hair in disarray, face pale, and the skin below his eyes puffy. He might have slept, but it certainly hadn't been enough. "Yes?" he said, his voice still a sleep-roughened burr.

  The warrior's quick eyes took in the scene-both Teldin and Estriss standing, tense, in the middle of the room-and his face lit up with interest. "Oh ho" he rumbled. "Having a deep little discussion, are we? Any more surprises for us, Teldin, old son?"

  We wish you to witness something. Estriss's mental voice was calm, reassuring. We think you should be aware of it. The illithid turned to Teldin. Do it as quickly as you can, the creature instructed. As part of the test.

  Teldin nodded and closed his eyes again.

  He could tell immediately that it was going to be much easier this time. A detailed vision of his own face sprang to mind instantly-almost as though it had been there all along, just waiting for him to need it. Whose should be the other race? he wondered.

  He wasn't even aware that he'd decided until the image appealed in his mind. He let the new face superimpose itself over his own….

  "By all the gods… !" Aelfred's voice was hushed, amazed-horrified?

  Teldin opened his eyes. Another familiar face was staring back at him from the mirror-one with tight-curled brown hair and dark, flashing eyes. Teldin reached up with his hand and touched the cheek
of Dana, the gnome. I can't bring you back, he thought, but if I can learn enough about my burden that it won't claim any more innocent lives, as it claimed yours, at least that'll be something. He turned Dana's eyes on Aelfred.

  The burly warrior was staring in open stupefaction. He blinked his eyes hard, as if to clear them, then he shook his head. "I don't believe it," he said flatly. "I out and out don't believe it. Teldin, this is your doing?" He instantly answered his own question. "Of course it is-who else's?" He shook his head again, then his face suddenly split in its familiar asymmetrical grin. "By the gods," he roared, "I can think of some situations where I wish I could have done that."

  Estriss kept his white eyes fixed on Teldin. That was considerably faster than the first time, he announced. This change took perhaps ten seconds, the first almost a minute. How do you feel?

  "Well," Teldin started… and stopped. When he'd worn Aelfred's face, he hadn't consciously noticed the fact that his voice was unchanged. Now, though, his male voice was coming from Dana's female lips. Until that moment, the fascination-and the personal fear-of what he was doing had filled his mind. The initial shock had faded, however, and the consequences of what he was doing really began to penetrate.

  This is wrong, he found himself thinking, very wrong. He shut his eyes and melted away Dana's features as quickly as he could. He checked the mirror. Yes, he was Teldin again. A little shakily, he sat down on the illithid's bare bunk.

  Estriss was watching him fixedly. What is wrong? he asked. Was there pain? Exhaustion?

  "No," Teldin mumbled. "No, none of that."

  The cold you felt the first time, was it repeated? More intense, or less?

  "What? Oh, less. Much less."

  How do you feel now? Are you more tired than you were before?

  "A little. Not much."

  The illithid might have had another question, but Aelfred's deep voice cut him off. "What's wrong, Teldin?"

  "This is," Teldin snapped. "This whole thing. Putting on somebody else's face."

  Estriss's tentacles gestured incomprehension. Why? Why is this wrong?

  "It is." Teldin hesitated, searching for the right words to communicate what he felt so clearly inside. "It's a lie," he tried. "I… I was brought up to value the truth, both in myself and in others. The truth. It's what I've always worked toward. It's…" Suddenly he recalled a phrase from a book his grandfather had given him years ago. " 'The truth is a light,' " he quoted, " 'a light that banisheth the shadows which beset us.' Do you understand what I'm saying? This-" his gesture included himself, the cloak, the mirror "-this is a lie."

  There was silence for more than a dozen heartbeats, then Aelfred asked gently, "You probably wouldn't feel so strongly if you hadn't chosen Dana's face, would you, now?"

  Good question, part of Teldin's mind responded. Would I? Probably not. He shrugged.

  The experiments may have disturbed you, Estriss said firmly, but they were important and valuable. Consider what we have learned. The cloak has powers related to shapeshifting, which are now under your control. The first time you used this power, you felt the drain quite strongly, but the second time you found it much easier and the drain was considerably less. Is that not so?

  Teldin had to agree.

  Then you are starting to control the tendency to give up your own energy, Estriss continued. Correct? And finally… He leaned forward urgently. Finally, you have gained a great advantage over those who may be pursuing you. Do you not see that? They may be searching for a man of six feet with short brown hair. Would they spare a second glance it a woman of five feet with blond hair to her waist?

  Teldin nodded slowly. That was true, but… "What if they can track the cloak itself?" he asked.

  If that is the case, there is nothing you can do, but are we certain that everyone whose hand is turned against you can detect the cloak itself? It seems to me much more likely that only some few have this ability, if any. Against the others, you now have a significant advantage.

  "It's one I'm not comfortable with," Teldin muttered.

  Perhaps that comes from lack of focus, Estriss replied. To his surprise, Teldin sensed more emotion in the illithid's mental voice than ever before. I heard what you said about valuing what is true. For myself, I would extend that. I value what is right. How best can we, both of us, serve the right, Teldin Moore? By allowing this cloak of yours to fall into the hands of the neogi? Or by doing whatever is in our power to prevent that? I know what my answer must be.

  The illithid turned away suddenly and busied itself with returning the silver mirror to the desk drawer. It was almost as if Estriss felt embarrassed by his emotional outburst, Teldin realized with surprise.

  Aelfred was watching him silently, understanding in the big man's eyes. Teldin bowed his head. "You're right," Teldin said quietly. "Thank you for reminding me of that."

  Estriss shrugged off the thanks. It is only logical, he said. What is also logical is that you should practice this ability of the cloak every day, perhaps several times each day. The drain you felt was less the second time, but it was still there.

  "I don't know what in all the hells you're talking about," Aelfred rumbled, "but just on principle I back the captain. Practice. It's important." He was silent for a moment, then went on, "One thing: I don't think it's a good idea to let the rest of the crew know about any of this. I think they've accepted you as some kind of warrior-mage-" he snorted with amusement at this "-so that won't worry them, but if they don't know if the person they're on watch with is who they think it is, or it's you practicing… It's going to do something to morale, if you get my drift."

  "I understand."

  Aelfred slapped Teldin comradely on the arm. "Well," he said, "if you don't have any more miracles to show me, I should get back on duty. We've got some of the new inductees on the rigging, and if I don't keep an eye on them, we're just as likely to end up back at Krynn as we are at Realmspace." He grimaced. "I know it's a touchy subject, but your diminutive friend, Horvath, has threatened to oversee repairs. Scary."

  *****

  Despite Aelfred's misgivings, the remainder of the journey through the flow was notable for its lack of mishaps. The "new inductees," as Aelfred called them-actually the surviving members of the deathspider's boarding party-seemed to integrate with the rest of the Probe's crew without any major difficulties. Over the first couple of days after the battle, Teldin could tell a "new inductee" a ship-length away. There was something about the way they walked and stood, as though they wished they could sink into the deck or the bulkhead and just fade from view-"trying to look invisible" was Aelfred's phrase for it. If anyone spoke to them-or even looked at them-they flinched, as though they expected to be beaten. Or worse, Teldin speculated, remembering his own experiences with neogi on Krynn.

  Plus, they had a tendency to stand around, trying to look invisible, unless they had specific orders to do something. On the third day after the battle, Teldin saw a perfect example of this. One of the hammership's regular crewmen-a little man named Garay-was standing on the rail, cleaning the sheaves of a rigging block with a marlin spike. As he shifted position, the spike fell from his hand. It landed on the deck, barely a foot in front of a new inductee named Tregimesticus, who just stood there, looking at the spike near his feet.

  "Well?" Garay called down from the rigging. "Aren't you going to pick the bloody thing up?"

  Tregimesticus jumped as though he'd been whipped, snatched the spike off the deck, and scampered up the rigging to place it right into Garay's hand.

  When the man was gone, Garay climbed down and came over to where Teldin was standing. "Dead from the neck up," the crewman grumbled. "I'll be flogged if any of them come around to right thinking."

  Surprisingly, though, some of them did start to come around. Perhaps they were the ones who hadn't been aboard the death-spider as long-nobody felt comfortable asking, of course-or perhaps they were just the ones who naturally had stronger wills. In any case, of the ten "ne
w inductees," four seemed slowly to be returning to the land of the living. They started talking to the other crew members-even when they hadn't been spoken to first-and even began to strike up friendships. The other six, including Tregimesticus, didn't seem so lucky or so adaptable. They followed orders with a speed that made the regular crew of the Probe look like sluggards, but they never showed anything that could be mistaken for initiative, and they kept the habit of trying to look invisible.

  In any case, the voyage progressed uneventfully. For Teldin, it was a pleasurable time. There was something comforting about the strict routine aboard the Probe. Aelfred returned him to normal watch-standing, which meant that eight hours out of every day was spent scanning the flow for possible danger. The rest of the time he was free to do as he liked. He still shared the cabin with the three surviving gnomes-Horvath, Miggins, and Saliman, but found that his watch-standing schedule was opposed to theirs; when they were on watch, he was asleep, and vice versa.

  This didn't mean that they never met, of course. As soon as he had time after the battle, Teldin made a point of tracking down Miggins. He found the young gnome in the starboard side stateroom that had been converted into an infirmary for the many injured in the deathspider's attack. Teldin found it uncomfortable to enter the cabin-like many people who depended on health and strength for their livelihood, he found it deeply disturbing to be around those who were physically impaired-but he forced his qualms out of his mind and put on a smile.

  Miggins was almost indecently glad to see him. Although he hadn't seen it, he'd heard about Teldin's exploits on the forecastle. As always, the tales had grown with the telling, and Teldin found that he'd become a sort of personal hero to the youth. Teldin was a little troubled about this but decided this was neither the time nor the place to change Miggins's attitude.

  Miggins was progressing well and was glad to tell Teldin all about it. His left arm was grievously wounded, and there was a significant chance that he'd never regain full use of it, but at least the healers' initial concern-that they'd have to amputate to save the gnome's life-had turned out to be baseless.