The Broken Sphere s-5

by Nigel Findley

  He could understand why; even though she'd never said it straight out, she'd hinted at it often enough. Teldin Moore would never be free to follow his own path, she feared. Even if he didn't subsume his own desires and ambitions to the "enforced destiny" that the cloak seemed to carry with it, the fact that enemies would always be pursuing him implied that he'd always be reacting, not acting. It was a very limited existence; she'd said that often enough. It was also an existence-and this she'd never actually said-that held little space in it for Julia. Unwilling or unable to put herself through what a relationship with Teldin would involve, she'd gone off alone-leaving behind a note reading, "It's better this way," and a lock of copper hair nestled in the fold of the parchment. She'd also left behind a lot of memories, of course.

  He wanted to believe her, yet there was still the fact of the six "alley bashers" who'd assaulted him. He was still convinced they'd got their information from someone who knew all too much about Teldin Moore, and here was someone from his past who definitely fit that description. "How did you come to Crescent, Julia?" he asked quietly.

  Her hopeful half smile faded. She shrugged. "I signed on with a merchantman setting sail from the Rock to the world of Nivil," she explained, "a safe billet but a dull one. Remember, at the time I didn't really care where I was headed. I just needed to keep myself busy." She shot him a quick glance from under her copper bangs.

  "When we set down on Nivil," she continued, "I was offered a commission as second mate, but I knew I'd die of boredom if I took it. So I signed on with a small 'package trader' who was bound for Radole."

  Teldin jerked upright in his chair. "Radole?"

  Julia sighed. "I know, I know, you visited Radole, too. I know what it sounds like, but I didn't know you were there, Teldin," she went on earnestly. "You'd already left when I arrived."

  "But you knew I'd been there," Teldin pointed out sharply.

  "Of course I did," Julia admitted sadly. "Everyone did. Just about every rumor I heard on the docks was about the human 'admiral' sailing on an Imperial Fleet vessel… and one that got itself badly chewed up, at that. Not many people knew your name, but they knew enough about the 'admiral' for me to make a good guess as to who it was.

  "But I didn't know where you were headed next," she concluded firmly. "Nobody did. You covered your tracks well."

  "You're here." Teldin's voice was almost a whisper.

  For the first time, Julia's eyes flashed with anger. "I know, damn the gods' eyes," she snapped. "I was planning to stay on Radole for a while, but you screwed that up, even though you weren't there anymore. I had to get busy again. I couldn't give myself time to think that maybe I'd made a wrong decision." She glared at him. "Do you know what I'm saying?"

  For a moment Teldin was silent, then, "Yes," he said, nodding, "I know. But, how…"

  "How come I'm here?" Julia shrugged again. "There was another merchantman setting sail the next day for Crescent. No other vessel I'd ever consider crewing on was leaving for a week, so I didn't have much choice. I came to Crescent."

  Teldin snorted. "So I'm supposed to accept it's just coincidence that you're here? And that you were asking around about me?"

  "Coincidence?" Julia bared her teeth in an expression that was more snarl than smile. "I don't think the word has any meaning around you, Teldin Moore," she stated. "I think you make coincidences, because of what's happened to you, and what and who you are. I'm sorry if I'm saying things that you don't want spoken aloud"-she looked meaningfully at Djan-"but I've got to say them. I can't not say them any longer.

  "I think you warp the laws of probability, Teldin," she went on, warming to her theme. "You and… what it is that makes you who you are. Think back on all the 'coincidences'-happy and sad-that have happened to you and around you. Do you honestly believe they were caused by pure luck? You'd have to be stupid… and you're not stupid.

  "The universe is huge, Teldin Moore, more vast than any of us can imagine. Yet you've kept 'coincidentally' meeting people who've channeled your destiny in new ways, focused them toward a goal. How probable is that, going on chance alone? I know it sounds ridiculous-even I don't believe it all the time-but your destiny might be so strong that it overwhelms the normal laws of chance."

  She paused, and Teldin watched as she controlled herself. "So, Teldin," she concluded, "in answer to your question: Yes, it's just purest coincidence that I'm here… for whatever little that word may be worth." With that she sat back in her chair and firmly crossed her arms before her chest.

  Teldin was silent for three dozen heartbeats. He didn't know what to make of the woman's statements. Certainly, random events seemed to have conspired to force him along the course he now followed, events that almost seemed tailor-made to guarantee he'd act in a certain way.

  But, in some sense, wasn't that a meaning of the word 'coincidence'? Several random events coming together to produce a certain result? Had one of those random events occurred differently, he'd probably have been channeled onto a totally different course. At the end of that course, however, he'd have looked back and remarked on how 'predetermined' his path had been….

  For an instant, he wished Estriss were present. He'd know how to deal with this strange philosophy, Teldin told himself… or at least he'd enjoy discussing it, and probably at ridiculous length.

  The Cloakmaster suppressed his smile and turned to his first mate. "Djan?"

  The half-elf didn't answer right away. His gaze flickered back and forth between Teldin and Julia, and he seemed to be mumbling under his breath.

  "An interesting philosophy… Teldin Moore," he said at last, stressing the name. "And one the Marrakites of Crescent would easily understand. The followers of the True Path believe there are some people they term 'verenthestae,' who weave the strands of fortune and destiny in different patterns by their very presence." He smiled mildly. "An interesting question, Aldyn Brewer-or Teldin Moore. Are you verentheslae?" He shrugged. "In any case, my captain, your old friend is speaking the truth as she knows it."

  It took Teldin a moment to comprehend what his first mate had just said. Then, "What?"

  "She did come to Crescent by chance, my friend," Djan confirmed. "As a Child of the Path, I have some skills in this matter. She was utterly surprised-and both saddened and elated-to find you on Crescent. Her presence here is coincidence"-he chuckled quietly-"for whatever that word is worth in the presence of verenthestae."

  Teldin closed his eyes and forced his breathing into a more normal pattern. He realized his hands were clenched into fists and forced them to relax, laying them flat on the table before him. After a few moments, he opened his eyes again and raised his gaze to Julia. With an ultimate effort, he kept his tone light as he said, "It seems we have space in the crew for two more. Would you care to sail with us? We cast off tomorrow."

  Chapter Four

  The individual who, here on Crescent, was known as Grampian watched the man before him shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. A scrawny, insignificant-looking example of his species, Grampian told himself. The man was less than average height, without much flesh on his bones, and had a face like a malnourished camp rat. Yet, here on Crescent, he was revered in certain circles as the most skilled at his specialized craft.

  Grampian kept the face he'd assumed frozen into a hard expression, his cold gaze drilling into his ever-more-discomfited hireling. With every moment he could see the man's fear grow. He'd chosen his current appearance specifically based on what he'd guessed humans would find intimidating, and now Grampian was pleased that his insight had been correct.

  He kept the man on tenterhooks for another few moments, then let his face relax into a half smile. "You have completed your task, I take it?" he asked.

  The man nodded quickly and prodded with his toe a leather backpack that lay on the floor before him. "Right here, everything right here, like you asked."

  Grampian nodded. "Good," he pronounced. "There were no… complications?"

  The small m
an's confidence was obviously returning. He flashed a momentary smile, showing crooked and discolored teeth. "No worries," he said, "I'm good at what I do, I tell you that. Just in and out. Nobody saw me. Nobody knows I was even there, the city guard, the librarians that run the place, nobody. Just like I was a wraith." He paused for a moment, glancing down at the backpack at his feet. "These books," he went on slowly, "they're worth a lot?"

  Grampian almost laughed out loud. This sneak thief may think he's sly and subtle, Grampian thought, but he's as transparent as a fine crystal goblet. He's considering holding out for more money. The thought of someone like this extorting money from one of Grampian's kind was almost hilarious.

  Yet Grampian kept his face expressionless and amusement out of his voice. "Not as such," he said, and almost smiled as the thief's face fell. "They mean nothing to me."

  "Then… ?"

  "Why?" Grampian found himself enjoying this. Against all his expectations, he realized he enjoyed explaining his reasoning to this mere human. "Because they're valuable to someone else. Extremely valuable. Their only worth to me lies in the fact that, if I have them, this other can't have them. Do you understand?"

  The thiefs disappointment was evident, but he nodded and forced a smile onto his face. "So I did a good job anyway," he suggested.

  "Perhaps." Again Grampian was silent and watched the anxiety build on the other's face. "Perhaps you did a good job," he said slowly, "perhaps your efforts are worth a bonus. If you completed all of my instructions." He pointed to the backpack. "Did you get them all?"

  "Sure I did, every last one on your list."

  "Then, why, I wonder, did the… the subject make arrangements to set sail so soon after he'd visited the library?" Grampian mused. "It seems as if he found what he was looking for, doesn't it? But how could he, if what he was looking for is in the bag at your feet?" He leaned forward, watched with satisfaction as the thief cowered. "You did consider the possibility of multiple copies, I take it? Stealing one copy of a book is little use if there's another on the shelves. You did think of that, didn't you?"

  "Sure I did," the thief protested in an aggrieved voice, "I'm not an idiot."

  But you are, aren't you? Grampian told himself. He could see the guilt, the realization of his own stupidity in the man's expression. He didn't think of multiple copies.

  "Maybe he… the subject… found out stuff from other books," the thief babbled. "There's lots of books in there. I seen them."

  Grampian sighed. Predictably, the thief was trying to excuse his failure. Of course, Grampian knew better. He understood a little about the indexing system in use at the Great Archive. There was no way that gnome-built monstrosity could have let the subject fill in the gaps left by the stolen books.

  "If it's so important," the thief was still jabbering, "why don't you just send someone to follow this subject of yours?"

  This time Grampian couldn't control his smile. "I believe I have that covered," he murmured, "in several ways." He reached into his robe and pulled out a small but heavy pouch, lofted it across the room and into the hands of the thief. "Your payment," he stated. "Discuss this with no one if you want to live to spend it."

  Swallowing visibly, the thief shoved the purse into his own belt pouch. He bent to pick up the backpack.

  Grampian's sharp order stopped him. "And leave the books."

  With a quick bobbing of his head-a gesture that reminded Grampian even more of a man-sized rodent-the thief turned and fled the room.

  As the door shut behind the thief, Grampian sighed. It was a good plan, he mused to himself. My mistake was to entrust it to an incompetent. But no matter.

  He let his magical disguise drop away, stretched the stiffness out of the limbs of his true form. No matter, he thought again. Every good plan covers contingencies, and this is no exception.

  If any humans had been standing in the hall outside the room, they wouldn't have known how to interpret the strange, coughing sound coming from the other side of the door. A member of Grampian's race would have recognized it at once, however. Grampian was laughing.

  *****

  "Captain Brewer?"

  Standing atop the sterncastle, Teldin brought his mind back to the present with a start. He looked over to where one of his new crewmen, a rough-looking half-orc, was standing at the top of one of the ladders leading down to the main deck. Although the fellow looked easily powerful enough to tear the Cloakmaster's arm off and beat him to death with it, the man was shifting uneasily from foot to foot as though uncomfortable in the presence of such an august personage as the squid ship's captain.

  "Yes?" Teldin asked, suppressing a smile.

  The half-ore tugged at his forelock. "First mate's compliments, Captain," he said carefully, as though reciting something he'd memorized, "and he wants to see you down on the wharf, at your earliest convenience."

  Teldin nodded. "Thanks,… Dargeth, isn't it?"

  Dargeth bobbed his head enthusiastically, as though awed that his captain remembered his name. Then he just stood there.

  It took Teldin a moment to realize he was waiting for further orders. "Uh,… that'll be all, Dargeth," he muttered. With another tug of his forelock, the half-ore turned and scurried back down the ladder to the main deck.

  Shaking his head, Teldin followed at a more sedate pace.

  There's more to being a captain than I thought, he mused. He didn't want a ship aboard which his crew treated him with awe-though he did want them to follow orders, of course. What he really wanted was a ship like the Probe had been with Aelfred Silverhorn as captain, where the feeling had been relaxed, yet everything got done efficiently. Maybe when the ship was underway he'd be able to discuss the matter with Djan and his other officers. At the moment, though, he had other things to think about. There was more to getting a ship underway than he'd ever thought, more details that could be handled only by the captain. Djan's probably thought of another one, the Cloakmaster thought wryly.

  He was right. "I'm sorry I didn't know earlier, Captain," the half-elf explained when Teldin met him on the dock, "but"-his voice took on a sarcastically officious tone-"the masters of ships departing from Compact harbor must get official permission from the harbormaster's office." He shrugged. "I think that's the last outstanding issue."

  Teldin sighed. "Can't somebody else handle it?"

  "Officially, it's got to be the ship's master," the first mate stressed again. "Sorry, Captain."

  The Cloakmaster nodded resignedly. "I'll handle it." He looked around. "Which way's the harbormaster's office?"

  *****

  Once he'd set off along the wharfside walk in the direction Djan had indicated, Teldin found that he was, in fact, glad for an excuse to get off the ship for one last time before they set sail. The decks and compartments of the squid ship were still scenes of chaos, as the crew gamely struggled to get everything shipshape for departure. The consequence of the last-minute work, however, was that there was nowhere quiet where the Cloakmaster could go and wrestle with his thoughts.

  Things were different ashore. There were plenty of people around at this time of day-an hour or two before highsun-feast-but none of them required anything of Teldin Moore, captain of the as-yet-unnamed squid ship. The Cloakmaster found himself thoroughly enjoying the stroll. The sun was warm on his skin, and the breeze blowing onto the shore was crisp and refreshing, carrying with it a fascinating melange of odors-tar, woodsmoke, and other scents that Teldin couldn't identify.

  The harbormaster's office was half a dozen spear casts around the curving harbor from where the squid ship was moored. It was a low, stone building, little different from the warehouses, suppliers, and taverns that lined the docks. Totally unprepossessing, the building's only feature that set it apart was the small gray flag bearing the white crescent-and-star emblem that Teldin had first seen on the wasp that had intercepted his approach to the world. As he drew nearer, Teldin took a deep breath, bracing himself for another run-in with frustrating bur
eaucracy.

  "What's that?" The cry came from somewhere nearby, and was followed immediately by a female scream of panic.

  Teldin looked wildly around him. Gray-clad passersby were staring up into the blue sky, some of them pointing. The Cloakmaster looked up, too.

  Something was burning its way across the sky, a teardrop shape of fire leaving a turbulent trail of white smoke behind it. For an instant, Teldin thought it was a shooting star, a space rock that had plunged into Crescent's atmosphere and was now burning up. But then cold realization struck him. He'd seen this before-months ago, on Ansalon, on the last night of his old life. It was a crippled spelljamming vessel, on fire and plummeting to earth.

  As he watched, the ship hurtled overhead, now so close to the ground that he imagined he could hear the rushing of its passage and the roaring of the flames. It was definitely near enough that he could make out the kind of ship-a wasp, painted a familiar light gray. The angular ship was crippled-only one wing remained, and Teldin was sure the keel was shattered-spinning and tumbling wildly. If the crewmen were still aboard, if they hadn't abandoned the stricken vessel before it entered its final dive, they were doomed. To punctuate that realization, the burning vessel drove into the surface of the lake about half a league offshore, bursting into splinters on impact.

  The people around Teldin were stunned into momentary silence by the terrifying violence of the impact. But then the yells began again, and people again pointed upward.

  More ships were rising into the blue sky-three more gray-painted wasp ships, clawing for altitude. Something serious had to be happening above the planet's surface, the Cloakmaster knew. The wasp that had crashed was definitely part of the Crescent Peace Force-maybe the same ship that had intercepted him-and now three more official vessels were heading for space. Just what in the hells was happening here?