Into the Void s-2

by Nigel Findley

  T'k'Pek held out a hand-five fingers and a thumb, Teldin noticed-waiting for Teldin to hand over the cloak. When Teldin didn't, the arcane made no comment, just leaned down and took the cloth between his fingers. He examined the weave, turned the cloth over to view the lining, then released the cloak and resumed his relaxed, almost bored, posture.

  "Yes," T'k'Pek said, "the cloak was created by my race."

  Teldin realized he'd been holding his breath. He emptied his lungs with an audible sigh. He'd found the creators….

  So why, then, was he feeling uncomfortable? He couldn't isolate the feeling, couldn't examine it, but it was there and it was strong. There's something very wrong here, he told himself. He needed time to think. And, he realized, he needed to keep the arcane talking. "How do you know that?" he temporized.

  "Do you see the pattern in the weave of the lining?"

  T'k'Pek asked. "The three-petaled flower? That flower is a symbol widely used by, and widely associated with, my race. See?" The arcane extended his left hand. Around one of its long, multijointed fingers was a heavy ring of gold. The top of the ring was flat, like a signet ring, and bore a design. The pattern was complex, but at its center was, unmistakably, the trilaterally symmetrical flower woven into the cloak's lining.

  "That flower is unique to the arcane?" Teldin asked-more to give himself time to think than because he wanted to hear the creature's answer.

  "That is so," T'k'Pek told him. "That representation of the flower is used only by my race."

  T'k'Pek's lying! The thought was so strong that, for a moment, Teldin imagined he was "hearing" Estriss's mental voice. He quickly realized, though, that the thought was his own. His eyes locked with those of the blue giant. Why do I think you're lying to me? he asked silently. No, the real question is, Why are you lying? If T'k'Pek were human, Teldin might have seen some reaction in his eyes. But the eyes that looked back were steady, cold, and very alien. He suddenly recalled a comment his grandfather had once made about a man that they both knew and disliked: "If the eyes are windows to the soul, he's learned how to close the shutters."

  Teldin heard someone shifting behind him: Aelfred, it had to be. He could sense his large friend's puzzlement. He wants to know why I don't ask the arcane to remove the cloak, Teldin reflected, but I can't, not yet. The next thought was like a cold wind blowing through his soul: Maybe the arcane could do it.

  T'k'Pek was still watching him silently. If the arcane sensed his deliberation, he gave no sign.

  "So the cloak is an arcane magical device," Teldin said slowly. "Tell me about its powers. What can it do?"

  "There are many such cloaks," the arcane said easily. "Most are made for specific purposes, so their powers vary. This only makes sense."

  "Give me some examples," Teldin pressed.

  The giant's eyes shifted; for the first time he seemed uncomfortable. "The powers vary," he said again. "None are greatly significant: protection against cold, perhaps, or immunity to fire." His eyes were now fixed unblinkingly on Teldin's. Watching for a reaction? Teldin wondered, like a fake fortuneteller watching for a clue to better tailor the story? "Some may allow their wearers to fly, or maybe to breathe in the void. The cloak's power will probably be something minor along those lines."

  "Power," Teldin mused. "Each cloak will only have one power?"

  "Not necessarily," T'k'Pek replied quickly. "Again, the cloaks will vary. As I say, my people create them for different purposes."

  Teldin nodded. He suddenly felt very tired, very old. He knew what he was going to do, and that knowledge was like a heavy burden on his shoulders. Once more, his gaze met the arcane's. "I understand," he said quietly. "Thank you for your time. I appreciate your help."

  The arcane's eyes opened wide in surprise, a ludicrous contrast to the creature's uninflected voice. "You want nothing more?" he asked.

  "No," Teldin told him honestly. "I apologize for the inconvenience. Again, thank you." He turned away. Neither Aelfred nor Estriss said anything, but their looks were questioning. Teldin shook his head.

  "Wait." For the first time, there was a trace of intensity in the arcane's voice. Teldin turned back. "The cloak was created by my race," T'k'Pek said. "I would like it returned. I wish to purchase the cloak from you."

  "I'm sorry." Teldin shook his head. "It's not for sale."

  T'k'Pek was shifting uncomfortably in his chair. The arcane looked almost desperate. "I offer you a price of fifty thousand gold pieces," the creature said.

  Teldin wasn't familiar with Toril's currency, so the offer made no sense to him, but from Aelfred's startled reaction, he realized that it must be a huge sum. "I'm sorry," he said, turning away.

  "One hundred thousand gold pieces."

  Teldin didn't even turn back. Estriss was watching him closely. Aelfred leaned closer and whispered, "One hundred thousand! You could buy the Probe and have enough left over to buy your girlfriend a new mosquito." Teldin shook his head. The other two followed-a little unwillingly, in Aelfred's case-as he headed for the door.

  "Name your price." The arcane's voice had taken on a sharp edge of desperation.

  "Thank you for your time, T'k'Pek," Teldin said. "I'll be in touch."

  Neither Aelfred nor Estriss spoke to him on the return flight to Rauthaven or the trip back to the Probe. Teldin was glad for the silence. He had a lot to think about. On returning to the hammership, he left the others and went below to the officers' saloon. Rianna had headed into the city on a shopping trip, he'd been told. It was just as well, he figured. While he'd have welcomed seeing her, he knew she'd have asked him questions that he couldn't even answer for himself yet. He pulled a chair to his normal place near the circular port and settled himself comfortably. The ship's gentle rocking relaxed him, cleared his mind.

  What in the Abyss am I doing? he berated himself. The arcane made the cloak; the pattern's the same as the one on T'k'Pek's ring. Why didn't I ask the giant to remove it?

  Partly because T'k'Pek lied, he answered himself. That flower isn't exclusively an arcane symbol. T'k'Pek couldn't answer my questions. He just tried to tell me what he thought I wanted to hear. He didn't even guess that I needed the cloak removed.

  Or that I was disguised! he finished. That was the most telling point, Teldin thought. The arcane had sensed somehow that Estriss had shapechanged, but not him. Why not? Particularly if the cloak-and its powers-were created by T'k'Pek's own people? Shouldn't the creature be more attuned to the powers of his own race's artifacts?

  He sighed and fingered the cloak's hem. The material was thin, almost weightless, but now the garment seemed to weigh down on him like a millstone around his neck. I should be free of this, he told himself.

  At least his decision wasn't irrevocable. That was his one consolation. If he'd had the arcane remove the cloak-provided he could remove it-and handed it over, then found he'd been wrong, there would be nothing he could do. This way, he still had a chance to change his mind. He could always contact T'k'Pek-the arcane's eagerness to pay a king's ransom reassured him that he'd have little trouble setting up another meeting-and ask for the creature's help with the cloak. The blue-skinned giant wouldn't be leaving Rauthaven until after the auction the next morning.

  Teldin forced himself to relax. He still had time.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Teldin spent the night aboard the Probe. The three gnomes were ashore-presumably still tracking down material for their invention-so he had the cabin to himself. At around midnight, Rianna returned from town, as excited as a child at her purchases. Mostly she'd bought clothes for herself, ranging from demure to downright naughty, and she hinted at how much she was looking forward to sufficient privacy to model them for Teldin properly. She'd also picked up a gift for him: a short sword with an elaborately gold-chased hilt, which she slipped into his scabbard. When he remarked that it looked too expensive, she feigned anger. "It's my money I'm spending, Teldin Moore," she told him, hands on her hips, "and if I think you're worthy o
f what that gift cost, then you're worthy of it. Anyway-" her frown broke into a jesting smile "-who's to say I didn't steal it from the hip of some sellsword who tried to win my favors?"

  They spent the rest of the night in each other's arms. Although he could tell from her manner that she wanted to know how his meeting with the arcane had gone, she apparently sensed his confusion and didn't raise the issue. Teldin appreciated this, another indication of the woman's sensitivity-as if he needed anything more after her reaction to learning his true identity. As they finally drifted into sleep, he found himself wondering how he'd ever considered himself happy before he'd met her.

  The next day dawned bright and sunny, but with a brisk wind that caused the hammership to roll at its anchor. When Teldin awoke, Rianna was already up and gone. He dressed slowly, enjoying the warm feeling of relaxation spreading throughout his body. In the back of his mind was the bowl-edge that he still had a decision to make-or, at least, to hold to-but he wouldn't let himself dwell on it. He'd have plenty of time to worry about that later. At the moment, he was feeling good and wanted to make the most of the experience. He made his way up on deck.

  The sun was beating down, but the breeze was sharp and cold on his cheeks. He filled his lungs with air, enjoying the feeling of muscles stretching. In the bright sunlight, the white-and-red city shone. Beautiful, he thought, I'll be sad if I have to leave here.

  Aelfred and Estriss-the latter once again magically disguised-were on the forecastle deck. Rianna was with them. She waved down to him. "Aldyn," she called happily, "get your lazy body up here."

  He smiled. One thing he'd always prided himself on was his ability to enjoy life. He had to admit, though, in contrast to Rianna he seemed dull and repressed. He swung up the ladder and joined his friends on the forecastle.

  "Good morning," he said, grinning happily. "Nice day."

  "After a nice night, too, I warrant," Aelfred put in innocently. Rianna dug an elbow none too gently into his ribs, and the big warrior added in the same ingenuous tone, "The weather, I meant."

  Teldin chuckled. Initially he'd felt a little uncomfortable about the first mate's somewhat… indelicate… humor, but now he was secure enough to accept it in the manner intended: as one friend ribbing another, with no harm or insult meant.

  Estriss was watching the byplay with little comprehension. He can travel with humans, Teldin thought. He can even take the face of a human, but he'll never really understand us. He took pity on his alien friend. "The auction's today, isn't it, Estriss?" he asked.

  The disguised illithid seemed happy to get back to a topic he could grasp. Yes, he replied,in an hour or so. The tender has already been summoned to take us to shore. He paused. Would you like to join us? he asked, a little diffidently. You would be most welcome.

  "I want to go," Rianna said brightly. "It'll be fun, and maybe I'll learn something. I've never learned that much about history before." She turned to Estriss. "You'll tell us what's happening, won't you?"

  Teldin smiled, a little indulgently. Rianna's enthusiasm was really running high this morning. He enjoyed seeing her like this, untroubled, unburdened by decisions. And why not? She was right: the auction would be interesting, and maybe he'd learn something of importance. In any case, even if he didn't, it might be the perfect opportunity to get his mind off the issue of what to do about the cloak. His grandfather had often told him that sometimes the best way to make a decision was to force yourself to forget it, to occupy your mind with something else. That way you freed up your subconscious, and quite often, when you went back to the problem, you'd find you had an answer plus all the reasons to back it up. It wouldn't hurt to try it out.

  "Sounds like an experience," he told his friends. "I'd love to come along."

  *****

  The Merchants' Rotunda was a large building just off a wide street similar to the Processional, near the docks. When he'd first heard the name, Teldin had pictured a building like a warehouse, filled with sacks of grain, and baskets and crates of other goods. Rianna had explained that it wasn't like that at all. All trading was done in contacts for goods. Representatives for the various guilds, the trading coasters, and the carriers would meet in the hallways or in the central hall. Deals would be offered, terms would be agreed to, and contracts- only contracts-would change hands. Ownership of hundreds of tons of goods and thousands of coins would shift, but no party would even have to see the goods involved if they didn't want to. As Teldin finally grasped the concept, he shook his head in amazement. Compared to this place, his farming community on Krynn was indeed backward, still depending largely on the farmers' markets to conduct business. Market day meant hours of backbreaking labor, loading and unloading goods, and the twilight ride home with a pouch jingling with coins. How much easier it would be to ride out and back with nothing but pieces of parchment.

  The auction itself was taking place in the rotunda's central hall. This was a huge, circular room, a hundred feet or so in diameter. At its center, the hall was more than three stories tall. Ground level-the trading floor-was an expanse of polished marble, now covered with scores of wooden chairs moved in from who knew where. The floor above sported an open gallery, supported by fluted pillars, giving spectators a perfect view down onto the trading floor. Above that was a great domed roof, decorated with great murals that Rianna said depicted the growth of Rauthaven from a tiny village to a major metropolis. Light came from large windows set around the base of the dome and through a circular crystal skylight in the center of roof.

  Matters were already underway when the disguised Estriss and his entourage arrived. Three quarters of the seats were filled by participants and spectators. More spectators craned over the railing of the second-floor gallery. As they found seats near the back, Teldin surveyed the attendees with interest. It was generally easy to pick out the real participants from the interested onlookers. The latter were dressed like anyone on the streets of Rauthaven. The former, however, wore clothes that immediately set them apart. Silk robes were trimmed with fur or cloth-of-gold, and ears and fingers flashed with gold and gems. It was easy to tell that these people had money and were willing to spend it.

  A wooden stage had been constructed near one side of the rotunda, and it was here that the items were being auctioned off. Three young, burly men, similar in build to Aelfred, were available to hold and display items… and, presumably, to offer some kind of security. The auctioneer himself was a scrawny old man with a face that reminded Teldin of a dyspeptic buzzard, but with a rich voice that effortlessly filled the rotunda.

  As Teldin took his seat, he saw that the item up for bid was a portrait. He stifled a grin. If he ever felt as sickly as the old gentleman in the painting, he'd certainly not choose that time to have a portrait done. The face in the painting was slightly asymmetrical, as though one side of its head were swollen, and its skin had a decidedly green tinge. Not the kind of thing you'd hang in your dining room, Teldin thought, or your bedroom.

  "Final bid," the auctioneer was saying. "Final bid?… Sold." He rapped on his podium with a brass gavel. "Sold for ten thousand gold pieces." One of the young men carried the painting off, while another produced a heavy oaken chest. "This next item…"

  Teldin didn't listen to the auctioneer's description of the chest. Ten thousand gold pieces? he repeated to himself. Aelfred had told him one hundred thousand gold pieces would buy him a hammership plus a mosquito. That meant the price that miserable painting fetched would be an excellent down payment on a major spelljamming vessel. This just confirmed something he'd always suspected: he knew absolutely nothing about art.

  The next few items didn't fetch prices anywhere near that of the painting. After the novelty-and his amazement over the sum of money involved-had worn off, Teldin found his interest waning. He turned to his right, tried to get Estriss's attention, to ask how long until the significant items would be open for bid, but the illithid's eyes and attention were fixed un-shakably forward. Rianna, sitting directly to his ri
ght, felt Teldin's restlessness and laid a calming hand on his arm. "Not much longer," she whispered to him, "then it'll get interesting, I promise."

  He nodded, a little glumly. This was nowhere near as exciting as he'd expected. Instead of taking his mind off his decision, the auction was giving him too much time to think. And he thought better when he was free to pace. Well, Rianna was probably right. He'd give it a little longer. To relieve the tedium, he looked up at the ring of faces above him-the spectators encircling the second-floor gallery and staring down into the hall.

  His gaze drifted idly around the ring. Suddenly, his peripheral vision caught a face that looked familiar. He focused on the spot, but the face was gone. There was movement there, though; apparently someone had moved away from the gallery rail.

  Even though he'd seen it for only an instant, he was sure he knew that face: Tregimesticus, the ex-slave, the same person he thought he'd seen at the tavern.

  Teldin leaned over to Aelfred. "Where's Tregimesticus?" he whispered.

  Aelfred blinked in surprise. "Aboard the Probe," he answered. "Where else?"

  "I thought I saw him in the gallery."

  The warrior smiled. "That's doubtful," he pointed out. "Tregimesticus still has the slave mentality real bad. If he wanted to come ashore, he'd have to ask for permission to catch the tender. And before that, he'd have to decide he wanted to. Can you see Tregimesticus doing either of those things?"

  Teldin remembered the exchange with Garay, how the ex-slave didn't even have the initiative to pick up the marlin spike that had fallen at his feet. Teldin grinned back. "Not really. I guess I just saw his twin."

  "You mean there's someone who looks like Tregimesticus?" Aelfred asked in mock alarm. "Poor bugger."

  Teldin chuckled as he settled back into his seat.

  The auctioneer's drone suddenly stopped in mid-bid. There was silence for a moment, then the rush of whispered conversation. Throughout the rotunda, heads turned.