" 'Reform entire planets, even entire systems,' " Djan suggested dryly. "Is that the phrase you're looking for?" Teldin simply nodded.
"And Nex was eliminated from all more recent charts because it's proscribed, because to visit it courts violent death, is that what you're saying?" Djan continued.
"It's one possibility," Teldin said.
"Another is that these are all rumors," the half-elf countered calmly, "that neither Nex nor the river in the phlogiston exists."
"Maybe," the Cloakmaster had to admit.
"If you are right, Teldin," Julia started, "what's to say we won't get ourselves blasted out of space?"
He was silent for a few seconds, looking sightlessly at the chart. Then he raised his eyes, met her gaze steadily. "Nothing. If the Juna still exist, and if they created the cloak, I'm betting they'll be able to sense its approach."
"A lot of 'ifs,' " Djan pointed out.
"Granted. But think it through." Teldin ticked off points on his fingers. "First, if Nex doesn't exist, we've lost nothing but time trying to find it. Second, if Nex does exist, but the Juna aren't there, we've lost nothing. Third, if the Juna are still there and they sense the approach of the cloak, we might not have lost anything. Only if the Juna still exist and they attack on sight are we in any danger."
The Cloakmaster drew himself up to his full height. "I want to search for Nex," he said, his voice firm. "I'd like you to sail with me, but it's your choice. If you want, I'll take you back to Crescent.
"Are you with me?" He turned to Djan.
The half-elf was silent for a moment, his face expressionless, then he smiled broadly. "I said I was looking for an interesting voyage. I think I've found it. I'm with you."
"Julia?"
"You know my answer."
Teldin smiled. "All right," he said. "We need to tell the crew. Not everything, obviously, but that this may be a dangerous voyage. Anyone who wants off, they get paid what I promised them. Anyone who stays, they get a bonus equal to their current pay." He looked questioningly at Djan. "Does that make sense?"
"Yes, Captain," the half-elf confirmed. "I'll spread the word. But first… Do you realize some of the crew already think this ship is a jinx, because we're sailing without a name? Very bad luck, according to spacefarer superstition. I think we should remedy that right away."
Teldin thought silently for a few moments, then he glanced over at Julia with a half smile. "I propose Unexpected Rendezvous" he said.
Julia returned his smile. "Better, Boundless Possibilities," she suggested.
"I concur," Djan said at once. "Boundless Possibilities it is." Hie inclined his head to Julia. "Madam second mate, shall we tell the crew?"
The Cloakmaster smiled broadly as he watched them leave. Once the door was shut behind them, though, his smile faded. With a worried frown, he turned to his study of the hand-copied chart once more.
*****
The good ship Boundless was making fine time, Teldin thought. The two helmsmen-the human, Blossom, and a dwarven mage named Dranigor-were keeping the squid ship under almost continuous power, putting more than a million leagues of wildspace under the keel each hour. Already they were far past the most distant planet of the Heartspace system, a mammoth ovoid world known as Loom. Like a yellow-white egg, it hung against the black backdrop almost directly astern.
Their course-which Djan had plotted with the navigator, Lucinus-was taking them toward one of the sixteen permanent portals that allowed access to and from the Heartspace crystal sphere. According to the starchart, using this existing portal took them a little off the direct line from Crescent to the start of the phlogiston river on Teldin's map, adding two days or more to the overall journey. When the Cloakmaster had asked about this, Djan had agreed with him… in principle.
In practice, however, the half-elf had argued, it made more sense to use an existing exit from the sphere than to create one-even temporarily-using magic. Although portal generators and spells with the same effect were largely safe, the mythology of the spaceways described many catastrophes: portals closing prematurely and slicing ships in two, or not opening at all and causing ships to slam into the crystal sphere at great speed. Even though neither Teldin nor Djan fully believed these tales, the Cloakmaster had to agree that it was better to be safe than sorry. In the grand scheme of things-given the concept of verenthestae-what difference did two days' additional travel make?
From his vantage point on the sterncastle, Teldin watched as two halflings-as nimble as children, yet little weaker than human adults-swarmed up the ratlines to adjust the mainmast's single gaff boom. The crew was meshing well, he thought with satisfaction. That reflected well on Djan, the man who'd chosen them. To Teldin's surprise, only two crew members-twin hadozee, known to most of the crew as "deck apes"-had asked to be set ashore when Djan and Julia had explained that the voyage might be dangerous. The Boundless had set down on Starfall, the next world out from Crescent. As he'd promised, Teldin had paid the two hadozee the full sum Djan had negotiated, and the parting had been amicable on both sides. Teldin had assumed his first mate would replace the missing bodies, but Djan had declared it unnecessary. They already had enough hands to sail the squid ship efficiently… and, further, two fewer mouths and sets of lungs might make a difference over a long voyage.
Apart from the hadozee, the rest of the crew seemed more stimulated than disheartened by the news that the voyage might be risky. Or, more likely, Teldin thought cynically, it's the fact that they're getting paid twice what they expected that's making the difference.
Several of the crew had approached Teldin personally to thank him for leveling with them, for giving them the chance to decide whether or not to put their lives at risk. Further, they'd insisted on taking him out for a glass of sage-coarse-which had quickly become several glasses-at a strange little tavern on Starfall called The Philosophers' Rest. Surrounded by sages, metaphysicians, and philosophers- and a healthy number of would-be intellectuals-all discussing and arguing over contentions that had sounded meaningless to Teldin, they'd repeatedly toasted their captain's health.
It was surprising, the Cloakmaster had thought at the time; most captains must just keep their crews in the dark. But he couldn't have done that. He had an ethical and moral responsibility to them. He had to give them the chance to chart the courses of their own lives.
There was only one crewman who hadn't responded in any way that Teldin had expected. Instead of being pleased that he was getting paid double, he'd been surprised, even outraged, that Teldin had even considered it necessary. That man was Beth-Abz.
Beth-Abz. He was a strange one. Teldin hadn't experienced any repetition of the strange "revelations," if that's what they were, but then he hadn't been close to the man often. No, the Cloakmaster could only judge Beth-Abz's characteristics based on the reactions of others. Those reactions painted a strange portrait.
Even several weeks into the voyage, he still didn't seem to fit in-in any way-with the rest of the crew. The others on the same watch avoided him as much as they could and never spoke to him unless they absolutely had to. That would have bothered another man, but Beth-Abz seemed oblivious. Or maybe he was grateful; he showed no desire to talk to his crewmates either.
The broad-shouldered man was on the forecastle at the moment. He was supposed to be greasing the central bearing of the catapult turret, Teldin remembered, but the bucket of fish oil and the long-handled brush lay on the deck, while Beth-Abz stood against the port rail, staring off into the depths of space. The gunner's mate-Allyn, a weather-tanned, aging man who reminded Teldin of a piece of chewed leather-was rubbing linseed oil into the catapult's shaft, occasionally stopping to shoot venomous glances at the big warrior's back.
I've got to do something about this, Teldin told himself. He knew that Djan had already spoken to Beth-Abz, but the first mate's lecture obviously hadn't taken. Maybe what was needed was a dressing down from the captain himself.
"Hey." Teldin called to
one of the crewmen passing below him on the main deck. When the fellow looked up, the captain pointed forward. "Get Beth-Abz," he ordered. "Send him to my cabin immediately." From the crewman's smile, quickly hidden, he knew he was doing the right thing. Beth-Abz was bad for morale, and one of the major lessons Teldin had learned from Aelfred Silverhorn was the importance of morale aboard ship.
Teldin climbed down the ladder to the main deck and headed forward into the forecastle. Julia sat in the saloon, eating a late dawnfry. "Got a minute?" he asked her as he passed. "I've got to speak with a friend of yours." Without waiting for an answer, he walked through into his own quarters.
She followed him, shutting the door behind him. "Beth-Abz?" Her tone made it more statement than question. Teldin nodded.
A knock sounded at the door. Hastily, Teldin sat down at one end of the table, indicated for Julia to sit to his right. "Come in," he called.
The door opened to reveal Beth-Abz. The big warrior seemed to fill the low doorway. "Captain?" he said in his rough, emotionless voice.
"Sit down." Teldin pointed to the seat at the opposite end of the table from him.
As the black-haired man seated himself, Teldin watched him with undisguised curiosity. There's something about him I don't understand, the Cloakmaster told himself, something that makes him seem alien. Was it his eyes, maybe?
Teldin focused his attention on the man's face.
His skin was smooth, without a trace of wrinkles; there weren't even squint lines around the eyes. And the man's eyes themselves were so pale as to be virtually colorless, "spit-colored" as some friends had once used the term. But it wasn't just the color, was it? It was their unusual steadiness, the way they fixed on a single point without shifting around as most people's did. Teldin realized he was leaning forward involuntarily, trying to get a better look at those eyes.
The image struck him without warning-struck him so hard it forced a gasp from his throat. For an instant, perception that wasn't quite sight overlaid his vision of Beth-Abz. His mind was again filled with an impression of daggerlike teeth, but now to that image was added a churning mass of something that could be tentacles, and a single, staring eye.
He reared back in his seat. As suddenly as it had come, the vision was gone.
He felt pressure on his left arm. Julia had grabbed his biceps, and was staring into his face. "Teldin… ?" she asked.
The Cloakmaster drew a hand over his eyes. There was no doubt about that, was there? That was definitely an image provided by the cloak.
He forced himself to take a deep breath, let his muscles relax, and listened to his heartbeat slow back to some semblance of normalcy. He looked at Beth-Abz again, bracing himself for a resurgence of the magical image. But this time all he saw was a large, handsome man.
He struggled to keep his voice calm as he said, "You're not really as you seem, are you?"
If the big man gave any response, it was too subtle for Teldin to spot it. "It's over," the Cloakmaster said, more harshly. Julia looked at him as though he were crazy, but he pressed on. "We're not buying it anymore. Drop your disguise now."
For almost half a minute, the only sound Teldin could hear was the pounding of his own heart. Beth-Abz's colorless eyes-unmoving, unblinking-were fixed on his. Teldin could almost sense the intensity of the man's thoughts. Beth-Abz's expression gave no indication when he reached his decision, but the moment was impossible to miss.
The lines and contours of the burly warrior's body shifted, like flowing water. His limbs withdrew into his body, and his body itself shortened and broadened. The chair he'd been sitting in scraped across the floor, pushed back from the table by his new bulk. His head, too, was reabsorbed into the bloated body, to be replaced by multiple, writhing processes that extended upward. As the outline changed, so too did the figure's texture and color. The man's clothes vanished as though they'd been, absorbed into his flesh through his pores. Then the skin thickened, shifted, and cracked into what looked like discrete scales. A mouth opened in the center of the swollen body, and above it lay a great, staring eye.
The transition took only an instant. Even before it was complete, however, Julia was on her feet, a short sword seeming to sprout magically from her hand. She tried to interpose herself between Teldin and what Beth-Abz was becoming.
The Cloakmaster grabbed her left arm, gestured her to be calm. Unwillingly she obeyed, lowering her shining blade.
Although his heart was beating so hard he imagined the crew could hear it like a slave galley's drum, Teldin remained seated. He struggled to keep the rush of terror he felt from showing on his face.
Beth-Abz was a beholder, an "eye tyrant." Teldin had seen only two, one on the Rock of Bral and one on the cluster world of Garden. The former had been dead and stuffed, mounted over the door of a tavern. The latter, though, had been alive… and lethal. The Cloakmaster remembered with a chill the destruction the beholder had caused with the magical blasts it could create. Teldin felt his muscles tensing, as though that could possibly save him when the creature lashed out with its power.
But…
It could have killed me at any time, Teldin realized, but it didn't. Why would it do so now? He let himself relax a degree and observed the creature silently.
The bulk of its body was roughly spherical, maybe five feet in diameter. Teldin guessed that that body might weigh about six hundred pounds. But, then, weight doesn't mean much, does it? he reminded himself. The beholder was. floating in the air so that its center was about four feet off the ground. The body was covered with discrete plates of what looked like hardened skin and were colored a dark brown-green. In the center of the body, facing Teldin, was a single enormous, lidless eye the size of a dinner plate. Bloodshot white surrounded an almost colorless-"spit-colored"-iris, in the center of which was a horizontal, slit-shaped pupil. And beneath the eye was a great, loose-lipped mouth. Although the mouth was closed, the way the lips bulged clearly showed that it was full of teeth the size of small daggers. Sprouting from the top of the body were ten armored and segmented protrusions, like the legs of lobsters or spiders, almost as long as Teldin's arm, each tipped with a single small eye no larger than a man's fist. While the central eye was fixed, steady and unblinking, on the Cloakmaster, the ten smaller eyes moved constantly, tracking around the room, making a sickening, faint clicking as their joints flexed.
''Who…" Teldin's voice cracked. Four of the small eyes pivoted to focus on him. He took a deep breath, and forced control. "Who are you?' he demanded.
"I am Beth-Abz," the beholder stated. Its voice was low-pitched, slow, blurred, hard to understand. That's how a swamp would sound if it could talk, Teldin told himself. "Beth-Abz." the creature repeated, "of the clan Beth, of the nation Gurrazh-Ahr." It paused. When it spoke again, its voice was less certain-tentative, almost, Teldin thought. "You saw through my disguise. How is this?"
Teldin blinked in surprise. From what other people had told him about beholders, they weren't given to asking questions. If something puzzled them, or confounded them, they tended to blow it apart so they wouldn't have to worry about it anymore. He shrugged. "I have my ways," he said vaguely. "But I'm asking the questions. What are you doing on my ship?"
"You already know my reasons," the beholder said slowly. "I have already told this one"-with a pair of eyestalks, Beth-Abz indicated Julia-"the details of my travels."
"That was the truth, then?" Teldin demanded. "You expect us to believe that?"
The beholder's ten eyestalks moved in unison, a strange, circular gesture. The creature's equivalent of a shrug? Teldin wondered. "I would have no reason to tell you an untruth," Beth-Abz pronounced simply.
"All that you told me about crewing on various ships," Julia cut in, "you're trying to tell me you did all that' You?" She gestured vaguely at the spherical shape across the table.
"It is as I said."
"Why in human form?" she demanded.
Beth-Abz chuckled-a horrible, burbling sound like swamp
gas rising from the bottom of a fetid marsh. "Would humans and their kin sail with me otherwise?"
Teldin nodded slowly. He understood the rationale; it was much the same that Estriss the mind flayer had discussed with him long ago.
But there were still things that the Cloakmaster didn't understand. He didn't know much about beholders, but he had heard travelers' tales. "What about your clan?" he asked. "What about clan Beth? Why did you leave it? Or does it still exist?"
"Clan Beth is still in existence," Beth-Abz admitted, "as is nation Gurrazh-Ahr." The creature paused-uncomfortably,
Teldin thought. "I broke with my clan," the beholder continued slowly, "something that young such as myself do only with serious provocation."
Teldin leaned forward, fascinated. "What provocation?"
"It is hard to explain, and I would not expect any to understand it."
"Try me," Teldin suggested.
Again the beholder's eyestalks made their circular gesture. "The way of nation Gurrazh-Ahr is obedience and loyalty," Beth-Abz explained, "to the clan, and to the hive mother- the ultimate. The existence of an individual is subordinated to the existence of the clan, and the existence of the clan to the existence of the nation. I found that… intolerable.
"There is more to the universe than blind obedience," the beholder continued. Its voice had taken on a new tone, one that Teldin interpreted as doubt, as struggling with a concept that came hard for the creature. "I wished to experience that 'more.'" Again it paused. "I understood what my destiny should be within my clan and wished for another existence. I left my hive some time ago. My clan and my nation consider me a rogue, a renegade-by definition insane for placing my own needs above those of my kin. Yet…
"It is an insanity I find I relish." Once more it gestured with its eyestalks. "I would not expect you to understand."
The Broken Sphere s-5 Page 10
