“Kaba,”
Trivit said simply, but his reptilian eyes pleaded.
The dracons had adopted
him
as their clan leader! Teldin’s frustration bordered on despair. Would there be no end to the responsibility he was forced to assume? He took a deep, calming breath, knowing that if he did not accept this role, the adrift dracons would die.
Teldin challenged Vallus with his eyes. “They come,” he said evenly, then he turned to glare at the elf named Gaston, the one who had spoken slightingly of Hectate. The elf raised both hands in rueful surrender.
A deep boom began in the hold of the
Nightstalker,
echoing throughout the ship. The man-o-war was breaking up.
“Time to go,” Vallus said abruptly. As the elves half-carried Teldin to the flitter, he found himself thinking about Netarza and wondering whether he had heard the last from the mind flayers of Falx.
*****
Vallus Leafbower watched the unconscious human with deep concern. Three days had elapsed since the battle with the illithid ship, and Teldin Moore had yet to regain consciousness. The knife that had struck Teldin had been treated with poison, and after several tries the ship’s healer managed to decoct a potion to counteract it. Teldin’s delirium had faded within hours, and the restraints binding him to the narrow cot had been removed as soon as it was safe to do so. Vallus did not want Teldin to awaken to the perception that he was being held prisoner in some way.
Throughout the process Vallus had attended the human, praying for his recovery with a deep, desperate fervor. As if in response to his prayers, the human’s eyelids fluttered, then opened. Teldin Moore’s cornflower blue eyes looked dim and “disoriented, but relief flooded the elven wizard. By order of the grand admiral, Vallus would have had to done the cloak if the man had died. Having seen the results with Teldin, he wasn’t looking forward to the experience.
“I am glad you’re back, Teldin Moore,” Vallus said from the heart.
The human’s eyes met his, focused, then narrowed. Vallus suppressed a sigh. Despite Cirathorn’s treachery, Vallus was startled by the extent of Teldin Moore’s animosity toward the elves. Perhaps, Vallus thought with dismay, his task would be more difficult than he’d anticipated.
Teldin tried to speak, but the sound caught in his dry throat and sent him into a weak spasm of coughing. He grimaced and touched his left hip. Despite the elves’ best efforts, the wound was still angry and red. Vallus motioned for the healer.
Deelia Snowsong glided to the bedside. She slipped one hand behind Teldin’s neck and lifted his head, holding a goblet to his lips. Teldin managed several painful swallows and nodded his thanks. As he focused on his elven attendant, his eyes widened with wonder. Deelia was pale even for an elf, with hair and skin the color of a snowdrift. The elves from her ice-covered homeworld were tiny, seldom reaching five feet, and their ethereal beauty gave pause even to other elves.
There was admiration in Teldin Moore’s eyes, of course, but Vallus saw something far more important. The human’s curiosity and wonder struck an answering chord in Vallus’s soul, which sang with a burning, childlike need to
know.
This need had defined the wizard’s life, first by his choice of profession, and then by seducing him from his homeworld and sending him into wildspace. Once again the elf saw in Teldin a flicker of the flame that burned in his own heart. Someone had implanted in Teldin Moore the need to explore, to question, and to know. Perhaps the human had suppressed this need, but it was there and Vallus would exploit it.
“Where —” Teldin broke off, painfully clearing his throat. Frustration was written clearly upon his face.
“You are aboard the
Trumpeter,
a swan ship of the elven Imperial Fleet,” Vallus told him. Anticipating some of the human’s questions, he continued.
“You have been gravely ill, unconscious for almost three days. The knife that wounded you was poisoned, but thanks to Deelia Snowsong, our healer, you should suffer no long-term effects. Your ship was destroyed in battle, as was most of your crew. We picked up but two survivors, a gnome woman and an aperusa.”
“Figures,” Teldin croaked through a small, crooked smile.
Vallus nodded, understanding. In the three days since the battle, he had noted that the gypsy Rozloom had an uncanny aptitude for self-preservation.
The human’s brow knitted in sudden concern. “Estriss? Hectate?”
Vallus nodded reassuringly. “Our illithid friend is much improved. In fact, he is anxious to speak with you and has been asking for you hourly. Of the half-elf, I have less news. Since the battle he has kept to his cabin. Our healer examined him and could find no sign of injury. The effects were very similar to those following the casting of a powerful spell, and after resting for a day he recovered fully. I take it the half-elf is a mage of some power?”
Teldin hesitated, then nodded. He knew relatively little about bionoids, but they undoubtedly were magical. He vowed to himself that he would learn more as soon as he could. Vallus did not miss the troubled expression that crossed the human’s face, and for the first time the elven wizard felt more than a passing interest in Hectate Kir. Whatever the half-elfs secrets were, they must not be allowed to interfere.
Vallus rose and gave Teldin another reassuring smile. “You need rest. I will leave you to it.”
“No.”
Teldin Moore struggled into an upright position, brushing away Deelia’s restraining hands. After motioning for Vallus to stay, he accepted the healer’s offer of water and took several more sips. The human’s face was still pale and drawn, but it was set in grim determination as he struggled to gather his strength behind the force of his will. Vallus watched and approved.
“What do you want?” Teldin asked bluntly.
The elven wizard settled back down in his chair and began his answer at the appropriate place. “When we last met, I gave you a warning and some advice. You should have taken the cloak to the elves of Evermeet, where the Imperial Fleet maintains an embassy.”
Teldin harrumphed, and Vallus held up a temporizing hand. “Yes, I know about Admiral Cirathorn. That was most unfortunate, and the Imperial Fleet has sent me to ensure that such a thing does not happen again.” At this news, the human’s face hardened with skepticism.
“If you had done as I’d suggested and sought out the Evermeet elves,” Vallus continued, “you might have been spared that experience. The elves of Evermeet are a peaceful nation, and there you would have had the time and protection needed to seek answers. War forces individuals to make difficult choices. Even so,” he allowed, “I would dare say that Admiral Cirathorn made the wrong choice.”
Teldin huffed again, but this time in agreement. The elven wizard took this as a good sign and pressed his point. “The Imperial Fleet agrees. I have been dispatched to help you find the
Spelljammer.”
He paused to let Teldin digest this.
“Why?” Teldin asked.
“Frankly? We want you to find the ship, Teldin Moore.”
“Why?”
he asked again.
“We hope to persuade you to use the great ship on behalf of the elves. No, wait. Let me finish. The war is taking a terrible toll. If something is not done, the Imperial Fleet, the elven network that is the single stabilizing element in wildspace, could be no more.”
“So?”
The human’s response was so like the one predicted by the grand admiral that Vallus’s patience wavered. Too much was depending on Teldin Moore; they must get past this newly minted bigotry of his.
“What would you have take the elves’ place?” the wizard asked sharply. “The scro? Or perhaps the neogi?”
His last words hit their mark. Teldin’s eyes drifted closed, and his face tightened into a mask of confusion and despair. The elf rose to leave, and his parting words were offered in a calmer tone. “I am not certain how much you have learned about the cloak since we parted, Teldin Moore, but know this: You have in your possession the ability to command the greatest ship ever known. That is power. The nature of power is that it must be used as a force for good or ill. Very soon you will have to decide exactly how to use that power.”
The human’s only response was a faint snore. Vallus shook his silver head, and a small, self-mocking smile curved his lips. So much for his fine speeches. The poor human had barely regained consciousness, only to be bombarded with tales of elven woes.
Teldin Moore needed time to rest and recover. Time, unfortunately, was something that the elven nation could not spare. As Vallus walked slowly from the cabin, the grand admiral’s deadline pressed heavily upon him. The elven wizard paused at the door of the cabin and looked back at the sleeping human.
“I doubt this would be any consolation to you, my friend, but, in all truth, I do not envy you your decision,” he said softly.
For Teldin, the next two days aboard the swan ship
Trumpeter
seemed to crawl by. His wound was slow to heal, and the lingering effects of the poison were so debilitating that he was not able leave his cot for more than a few minutes at a time. From what Deelia Snowsong told him about drow elves and their skill at making poisons, Teldin reckoned he was lucky to be alive at all. That knowledge, however, did little to stem his growing restlessness, or to ease his apprehension about being a virtual prisoner on an elven ship. He had no idea where the ship was or where it was bound. Several times he asked to see Vallus Leafbower, but he was always told that he was not well enough to receive visitors:
On the second day, the vigilant healer finally announced that visitors were permissible. Within moments, Estriss appeared at the door of the cabin. Teldin hauled himself upright and greeted him with an almost comic degree of enthusiasm. The illithid’s lavender facial tentacles flared outward in an expression of surprise, but he came into the cabin and lowered himself into the chair at Teldin’s bedside without comment.
I take it you are well enough to talk, Teldin Moore?
Estriss’s mental voice held a touch of wry amusement, but his three-fingered hands smoothed the deep maroon silk of his robe in quick, nervous gestures.
Teldin nodded reassuringly, wanting to put the creature at ease. “To tell you the truth, a little conversation would probably speed up the healing process. I’ve never been so tired of my own company,” he said ruefully. “What about you? Are you fully recovered?”
Estriss shrugged. The human gesture did not translate well to illithid anatomy, and the odd, disjointed movement of his shoulders contrasted sharply with the easy grace of his weaving tentacles. Without warning, Teldin
felt
the intensity of Estriss’s desire to set things straight between them. The illithid’s sincerity burned in Teldin’s mind, as bright and earnest as if the emotion had been his own.
The cloak again? wondered Teldin. Did these flashes of insight signal the emergence of another magic power? Teldin took a long, deep breath and held it, as if he could absorb the magic and let it sharpen his thinking for all time. He’d been wrong about Estriss once, and he realized that a second chance was a rare gift. With this in mind, Teldin exhaled slowly and began.
“We have a lot to talk about.”
We do indeed,
the illithid agreed avidly. He folded his hands on his silken lap and straightened decisively.
I believe I have come to understand the reason for your mutiny, Teldin Moore,
Estriss began.
The news that the illithids of Falx sought your cloak, combined with the admittedly unlikely coincidence of your rescue from the pirates by my ship: these things did not supply your motivation. If you bad asked me about these matters, we easily could have come to an understanding. You made no attempt to do so. I thought about this while you were ill, wondering why, after our many frank discussions, you did not see fit to bring your concerns tome. Then I remembered that the woman Rianna Wyvernsbane had placed a charm spell upon you, which meant that you were magically disposed to believe her. She probably suggested that I was not trustworthy. Was this not the case?
“In the main, yes,” Teldin admitted reluctantly, unconsciously pleating the bedclothes between his fingers. Estriss’s explanation inadequately described the events during that time, and left out Aelfred’s duplicity, but it was essentially correct. Rianna’s influence over him had aspects that the genderless illithid could not understand, and Teldin himself did not care to dwell on the matter. Even now, the memory of Rianna’s treachery made him cringe. The love he’d felt for her had faded with the effects of the charm spell, but he had to admit that he’d been an easy one to ensorcell.
From the very beginning, he had been taken with Rianna and had allowed his attraction for her to overwhelm his caution. Estriss was basically correct: to lure Teldin into the neogi’s trap, Rianna had told her then lover about the Falx mind flayers and insinuated that Estriss could not be trusted. Teldin had believed her and trusted her, and his near-fatal error in judgment still haunted him.
As the victim of a spell, you were blameless in this matter,
Estriss continued with what Teldin considered an excess of generosity. The illithid raised a cautioning, red-tinged finger.
You should know, however, that I have related this incident to Vallus Leafbower. As captain of the swan ship, he has a right to know about your mutiny as well as the circumstances surrounding it.
“I suppose you’re right, but I’d doubt Vallus is worried about a repeat performance.” Teldin managed a crooked grin, trying to lighten the awkward conversation with a little humor. “Can you see a group of elves rising up in mutiny to aid a mere human?”
Estriss cocked his head slightly as if he were thinking the matter over.
Actually, no, but neither did I want Vallus to hear about that incident through other channels. If you and he are to join forces, it would not do to have him unfairly prejudiced against you,
he said earnestly.
Teldin nodded, appreciating the illithid’s evenhandedness. This was more like the Estriss he thought he knew: a being who possessed a strong moral code and a philosophical nature. It was difficult for Teldin to reconcile this Estriss with his own lingering suspicions.