Then, suddenly, thoughts and images blasted into his mind. He clutched at his head with both hands, as though to keep his skull from splitting under their ferocious impact. His stomach knotted, and he almost doubled over with the pain of it.
What am I? The voice, echoing in his brain, carried a sense of almost ludicrous surprise. What am I? I am.
Through the bolts of agony that still lanced through his body, Teldin felt Djan's supporting hand on his shoulder. He looked into his friend's concerned face. "What is it?" the half-elf asked. "What's wrong?"
Teldin took a deep breath, tried to force his pounding heart to slow. "It's talking to me," he whispered.
"What is?"
Only as the words emerged from his lips did Teldin recognize the truth. "The ship." He pointed with a trembling finger. "That ship."
The titanic voice boomed again into his brain. What are you? it asked. Come closer, so I can see-hear-sense you better.
"The ship," Teldin breathed again. "It's alive, but that means it's not a ship."
"What?" Djan shook his head in disbelief. "What?"
"I'm bringing us in closer," the Cloakmaster told him, struggling to keep his voice firm and under control.
"You're doing what?"
"Bringing us closer," Teldin repeated. "Get Dranigor to release the helm."
He could see conflicting emotions warring across his friend's face. Concern, fear, denial… But, then, finally, he saw Djan's expression settle into one of acceptance. Without another word to the Cloakmaster, he crossed to the speaking tube and issued the order to the helmsman.
Teldin extended his will, focused it through the ultimate helm, and exerted it upon the ship. The Boundless started to move, slowly, toward the metal object.
Filtered through the expanded perception of the helm, the metal ship-being's mental voice didn't seem as "loud" or overwhelming. I can sense you better now, it said, and again the words were tinged with surprise, this time alloyed with intense curiosity. You are of a primitive form, your species, and you seem to be injured. Yet your voice is strong, your presence distinct. How can that be? I sense you suffer from the same infestation as those who have come before you. Explain this to me.
Teldin shook his head, confounded. The words were clear, but the meaning was the exact opposite. The statement about his species, his "primitive form"… Perhaps a creature of living metal might consider a human primitive. He could almost understand that. But what was that about injury? Teldin wasn't injured. And he certainly wasn't suffering from any kind of "infestation."
Djan was by his side, his eyes full of questions.
"It's speaking to me through the cloak," Teldin explained quietly, "like the People did on Nex. It's alive, Djan! It has a mind." Like the Spelljammer? he asked himself.
He turned his attention back to the metal being. It had stopped and was now hanging in space less than a league ahead of the Boundless. Even though the "voice" currently wasn't speaking, he could still sense puzzlement and curiosity through the mental link.
"I am Teldin Moore," he said softly, focusing the meaning of his words through the cloak, "captain of the Boundless Possibilities."
And I am Zat, of the fire ribbon of Garrash, the "ship" replied, as are my fellows. The voice paused. 'Captain'? A strange designation. What does it mean? And what are these 'boundless possibilities' you refer to?
Teldin shook his head again. They were talking, he and this metallic creature, but he wasn't convinced they were really communicating. "Captain," he tried again, it means the person in command of the ship, the ship we name the Boundless Possibilities."
'Ship.' Puzzlement had turned to outright confusion in the mental voice. Is that a place you refer to? The crystal sphere of your origin, perhaps? it guessed tentatively.
"No." Teldin forced himself to think things through. Obviously the cloak wasn't translating as well as it usually did. Probably the mind of this great shiplike creature was too alien for easy communication. "The ship that we call the Boundless Possibilities is what you see directly in front of you," he tried again. "I'm the captain of the ship. I am in command of the crew that runs it. I'm the one who makes the decisions, who tells the crew to set the sails, or steer the ship." He paused, frustrated. "Don't you see the ship?" he demanded.
Of course I see you, the being-Zat-replied. I see you, and I sense your mind, Teldin Moore. But I ask you again: what is this 'ship'?
Teldin rubbed a trembling hand across his eyes. "I don't know what in the hells it's talking about," he told Djan tiredly. "And it doesn't know what I'm talking about. It can see the ship, and it 'hears' my thoughts, but…"
And then realization flooded through the Cloakmaster's mind, it thinks it's talking to the ship," he said to Djan. "It thinks I'm the ship." Of course, he told himself. The "injury"-that had to be the squid ship's ram, torn away during its crash-landing on Nex, and never replaced because the materials weren't available. And the "infestation"-didn't that have to be the crew, and by extension, Teldin himself?
He grabbed the rail with both hands, poured all his concentration into the link with the huge creature. "Zat," he said, "I am not what you see, or what you think you're seeing. I am not what's hanging in space before you. That's what I call a 'ship'. I am-Teldin Moore is-a human. There are twenty of us, each of us about"-he quickly calculated- "one thirtieth the size of the ship we're aboard.
"We are all alive," he pressed on forcefully, "we all have minds, like you do. The ship isn't alive. It has no mind. It's nothing more than"-he groped for words-"than a box of wood in which we live."
A wordless blast of shock, tinged with horror, flooded through the telepathic link, powerful enough to make Teldin sway dizzily. The infestation? Yet… this is not possible. No. How can the tiny, scurrying things have minds, the parasites? No. The last mental words carried a strong sense of denial, of refusal to accept something that went against cherished beliefs. But there was more to it than that, Teldin recognized: a hint of… could it be guilt? Why?
He put those questions aside for the moment. "Why would I lie to you?" he asked firmly. "What possible benefit could I gain?" He took a deep breath. "Look through my eyes, if you can," he demanded. "Use my senses. See if I'm not telling you the truth."
Slowly he turned around, scanning the length and breadth of the ship with his gaze. All the while, he concentrated on every detail he saw or otherwise perceived, trying mightily to channel it down the telepathic link into the mind of the metal creature. "Those 'tiny, scurrying things' you see," he whispered harshly, "they're like me. And they're like you, too. They have minds, emotions. They have wishes, and hopes, and dreams. They love. They feel fear. They're alive."
He pounded the ship's rail with a fist. "This-the ship- isn't alive. It has no mind, no will. When it breaks, we fix it. We steer it, control it. Without us-without our minds-it's inert, goes nowhere."
No, the mental voice maintained forcefully. The parasites are not like Zat. They have no minds. It paused-hesitantly, Teldin thought. Why have the parasites never spoken?
"One is speaking to you now," the Cloakmaster asserted. "Except I'm not a parasite. I am an independent being like you, with my own mind. We all are.
"I know it's difficult," he went on more quietly. "We seem so different, don't we, you and us? In size, in shape, in where and how we live. But we share one thing: we're aware of ourselves, and of the universe around us. Despite all the other differences-minor differences-that makes us the same."
The mental link remained "silent" for so long that Teldin was starting to think that Zat had broken the connection. But then the telepathic communication resumed-slowly, almost tentatively. I hear your thoughts, the creature said. Fora moment I shared your senses. What you say must be true. But is it true for all the infestations on all the "ships"?
"I think so," Teldin confirmed.
There was another long pause. Then we have done something terribly unwise, Zat murmured. All infestations? The sense of guilt was stron
ger, overlaid now with sadness.
Teldin shut his eyes, his throat constricting so tightly that he could hardly breathe. He thought he knew what the "terribly unwise" thing that Zat and its race had done was. What do you do when you find something you consider to be alive parasitized, suffering from some kind of infestation? You remove the infestation, don't you… ?
Teldin Moore, Zat continued, you and your tiny, scurrying minds are welcome in the space of Garrash. I and those of my kind welcome you.
In response to Zat's mental words, half a dozen more of the mirrored triangles emerged from the fire ring, soaring up into the cold darkness of wildspace to take up station behind and to either side of the first creature.
Is there any service we may perform for you? Zat asked. My kind would learn more about you….
"No service," Teldin said quickly. It wasn't that he particularly distrusted Zat, but there was something about the creature's suddenly effusive friendship so soon after its doubt and denial that bothered him. How many ships have you "sanitized?" he found himself wondering. "We just want some information. We know that you were recently visited by a large ship, a very large ship." He visualized the Spelljammer, tried to communicate the image through the telepathic link.
Apparently he'd succeeded. His mind was filled with a torrent of emotions, powerful enough to sear his thoughts with pain, as if his brain were being scoured with wire brushes. Recognition mixed with surprise, with excitement, and with tinges of ecstacy, but the dominant feeling was one of awe, almost religious in its intensity. Yes, Zat answered eagerly, the Wandering One. It was in the space of Garrash. It deigned to join us, the Wandering One, to sail on the currents of fire with us. It even shared its thoughts with us, to our great honor. The creature hesitated, then continued doubtfully, You know of the Wandering One?
At first Teldin was surprised by the tone of Zat's telepathic contact, but then he understood. You think the Spelljammer's one of you, don't you? he mused. Or something very like you, but much greater. The idea that "tiny, scurrying things" like us know your "Wandering One"-it must be as shocking to you as it would be to me if a rat swaggered up and told me it was personally acquainted with Paladine.
Could they think the Spelljammer's a kind of deity? he wondered. It would make sense, wouldn't it?
"Yes, we know of the Wandering One," he answered. "In fact, we've been following it across the universe."
Why? Zat wanted to know. There was a tinge of something that could have been suspicion in its voice.
"Wonder," Teldin answered quickly. It wouldn't do to tell Zat that I might be a deity's next captain, would it? "Wonder and awe. We've never seen anything like it before, and we want to learn what we can about it. To revere it-from a respectful distance, of course." He held his breath, waiting for the metal creature's answer.
Yes, Zat replied after a few moments. Yes, that is filling, but the Wandering One left the space of Garrash, Teldin Moore, it went on. It left over a planetary turn ago. Teldin instantly knew-thanks to the cloak, of course-that a 'planetary turn,' or a Garrash day, was about two hundred hours long.
More than two hundred hours, more than a week. Teldin felt his shoulders sag. The Spelljammer had left Vistaspace, then, traversing the Flow to another crystal sphere between the times that the Cloakmaster had used the amulet. The great ship was just so fast…
"Do you know where it was going?" Teldin asked pessimistically. "Did it tell you?"
The Wandering One returns home, Zat replied, to Teldin's shock, as it frequently does. A tinge of regret seeped into the telepathic voice. I tried to follow, in my presumption, but I was unable to keep pace with it.
You tried to follow your god home, Teldin translated with a wry grin, and it left you in the dust. "Where is this home?" he asked. "Do you know?"
Of course. The voice seemed surprised. Do not all who know the Wandering One know of its origins?
"No. We don't. Where is it?"
The One Egg, Zat replied flatly. Among the shards of the One Egg.
Teldin felt that his heart would burst. The Broken Sphere. What else could the creature be referring to? "And where's that? Do you know?"
At the center of all.
Teldin ground his teeth in frustration. So close… "And how do I find that? Can you give me directions?"
Of course.
The breath hissed from Teldin's lungs. "Tell me," he whispered.
Leave the space of Garrash, and this crystal sphere, Zat instructed, then follow the secondary eddies in the paramagnetic gradient, as they increase in amplitude. There are tertiary eddies that might lead you astray, but if you concentrate entirely on the secondaries, you cannot help but find the shards of the One Egg. It is a long journey, one that would take us many planetary turns, but at least the direction is simple to determine.
Teldin stared at Zat, hanging in space like some demented artificer's trick mirror. I think I understood one word in five, he told himself. What in Paladine's name is a 'paramagnetic gradient,' and what do 'secondary eddies' look like?
He turned to Djan. "What's a paramagnetic gradient?" he asked.
The half-elf looked startled-Teldin remembered he'd only been hearing half of the strange conversation-but then he shrugged. "I couldn't tell you to save my life," he admitted.
The Cloakmaster focused his attention back on Zat. "Can you describe it in another way?" he asked.
Why? The creature was astounded. The paramagnetic gradient is the best signpost leading to the One Egg. It hesitated. Can you not sense it?
"Can you?" Teldin shot back.
Of course. Sensitivity to paramagnetism is one of the basic senses among intelligent life, is it not? It paused again. Or perhaps your understanding of it is different from ours. Perhaps this would explain the sense we refer to.
Suddenly, without warning, Teldin felt as if he'd sprouted a new eye, one that could see things invisible to normal senses. He could see-that wasn't quite the right word, but it was the closest he could find-a field of some kind surrounding the planet of Garrash, whirling up from the planet's poles and looping around its equator, like some strange and exotic skein of wool. Burning in colors for which he had no name, spiderweb-thin lines of force wove in intricate patterns around the fire ring, spiraling through it. The strange colors were more intense near the center of the planet-which he realized his new sense could see right through-and in the heart of the fire ring. And everywhere he could see slight variations in the lines of force, bulges and twists-eddies.
I've seen this before, he told himself, or something very much like it. It had been during one of the times the amulet had linked him with the Spelljammer, when he was experiencing the universe through its mysterious senses.
Then the new sense-the vision-yet-not-vision-was gone, leaving him feeling momentarily bereft, blinded.
That is the sense of which I speak, Zat explained.
"We don't share that sense," Teldin said. "Is there any other way to tell me the way?"
Zat was silent for a long time, then, No, it said firmly. There is no other certain way of describing the direction to the One Egg. Vision is such an imprecise sense, and most others are worse. Only the ability to sense the gradient will serve.
Teldin felt as if he were clutching at straws. "Will you come with us, then?" he asked desperately. "Will you be our guide?"
And leave the space of Garrash? The question was tinged with incredulity.
"You said you were going to follow the Spelljammer-the Wandering One-anyway," the Cloakmaster pointed out hurriedly.
But not far from the space of Garrasb, Zat pronounced definitely. Certainly not beyond this crystal sphere. I and those of my kind cannot travel in the spaces beyond a sphere boundary.
Teldin slumped over the rail as despair washed over him. So near, and yet so far. He'd finally found someone-or something-that could direct him to the Cosmic Egg and, ultimately, the Spelljammer itself, but the directions were useless.
He felt Djan's hand on
his shoulder and his friend's concern. He turned to the half-elf. "It's like it's given me a map to the Broken Sphere," he told his friend dully, "but I can't read it."
Chapter Eleven
Teldin stared disconsolately out the "eye" porthole of his cabin. Below the ship he could see several of the massive metallic creatures cruising slowly into and out of the liquid fire of Garrash's ring. Behind him, at the table, Djan toyed idly with the bronze amulet.
Immediately after the conversation with Zat, Teldin and the half-elf had gone belowdecks, and his friend had watched while the Cloakmaster had made contact again with the Spelljammer. This time the great craft was definitely somewhere in the Flow. Before it, deep in the churning colors of the phlogiston, were half a dozen crystal spheres packed closely together, looking for all the world like a cluster of great pearls.
It's the same place I saw through the amulet when I was approaching Crescent, Teldin recalled, or somewhere very much like it. The Spelljammer was heading back to the shards of the Broken Sphere, as Zat had told him. And where was that? "Between the pearl clusters," as Message Bearer of the People had told him. Somewhere where the secondary eddies in the paramagnetic gradient increased in amplitude, according to Zat. Two descriptions, detailed enough in their way…
But both useless. Nobody aboard the Boundless knew of a place in the Flow where the crystal spheres were this tightly packed, and the charts gave no hint of it. And Teldin couldn't sense the paramagnetic gradient as Zat and its kind could do, and certainly knew of no other way of measuring it… largely because he didn't know what in all the hells it was. How can information be so uninformative? he asked himself bitterly.
"Where do we go now?" he asked softly. The creatures playing in the fire ring, predictably, gave no answer.
"Where?" He turned to Djan, repeating his rhetorical question.
The half-elf shrugged, setting the amulet down on the able before him. "I don't know, Teldin," he said candidly. "Somebody must know about the 'pearl clusters.' I'd wager hat some spelljammer captain has seen them sometime, tows where they are. Maybe the best bet is to head for one of the major centers of spelljamming trade-Radole, maybe, or Garden-and ask around." He shrugged again. "I know it's not much, but it's all I can think of at the moment."
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