The Broken Sphere

by Nigel Findley

  “Yes?” Teldin asked, suppressing a smile.

  The half-orc 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-orc 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 mélange 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 bureaucracy.

  “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?

  Well, whatever it was, the Cloakmaster decided that Compact’s harbormaster could go whistle if he wanted any more paperwork filled out for the squid ship. Regardless of the details, Teldin didn’t like the new turn of events, and he figured he’d feel happier aboard his ship and well out into the void. He turned and ran back toward his vessel’s berth.

  Panic was spreading along the docks as he ran, dodging knots of people. He was almost back at the squid ship when screams of dread rang out again, redoubling in volume. Teldin looked up.

  A bloated black shape – no bigger than his smallest fingernail held at arm’s length but nonetheless threatening for that – hung in the sky over the city. The Cloakmaster had seen that shape before, too, more times than he cared to recall. Even at this distance, it was impossible to mistake a neogi deathspider ….

  As he watched, two much smaller dark specks – presumably Crescent-based wasps – swooped down onto the spider ship’s stern. One blew apart into fragments, probably shredded by the neogi vessel’s aft-firing jettisons. The other continued its attack run, and a small fireball bloomed, bright red against the black of the deathspider.

  The Cloakmaster turned away from the spectacle in the sky and sprinted for his ship. He could see Djan on the sterncastle. “Cast off!” Teldin screamed at the top of his lungs. “Get us out of here now!”

  Teldin raced up the gangplank and onto the squid ship’s deck. Behind him, two crewmen dragged the gangplank aboard the instant he was off it. “Get us spaceborne!” he cried.

  “The helm’s manned, and we’re cast off.” Djan’s pale and pinched expression belied his calm and controlled tone. “We can lift any minute.”

  “Port regulations say we’ve got to clear the harbor area before lifting off,” Dargeth pointed out.

  “To the Abyss with the port regulations!” Teldin snarled, and he saw the half-orc quail before him. “Djan, get us into space as soon as possible.” He looked up at the fight in the skies above them, and shivered. “Sooner.”

  *****

  Neogi! May what gods there be damn them to hells everlasting!

  From his window, Grampian glared into the sky. If those foul creatures had interfered with his plans, if they’d driven the subject off Crescent before Grampian’s own stratagems were fully in place, they’d pay. Grampian would make sure of that, one way or another.

  *****

  Teldin sighed. Apparently his ship had managed to avoid the neogi entirely. With no sign of the bloated ship, the Cloakmaster grew ever more confident that he and his crew were safe. Either the Crescent vessels had crippled or destroyed t
he deathspider, or they’d simply kept it too busy to pursue as the squid ship made its escape. Teldin didn’t really care what the truth was. All that mattered was that there were no neogi on his tail. The Cloakmaster was free to take the next step in his great quest.

  Even after more than a day underway, the main deck still seemed to be in chaos, as the new crew members struggled to get used to each other and their duties. He knew this was necessary, a normal part of getting a new vessel and crew shipshape, but that didn’t make it any less distracting and frustrating.

  How much worse must it be for Djan? the Cloakmaster found himself wondering. Djan Alantri had voluntarily taken on most of the responsibilities of organizing the crew. He was handling almost all facets of shipboard routine, from assigning duties to organizing watches, right up to training those crew members who might need a little help. For example, not long ago, Djan had been directly below him in the helm compartment, discussing with the primary helmsman – a corpulent human priestess of Ptah with the unlikely name of Blossom – exactly how to handle the orders she’d hear when the ship next went to battle stations. Teldin sighed. He was lucky to have Djan as his first mate; he was constantly being reminded of that fact. As if to reinforce it again, he noted that the indefatigable half-elf was running the crew through yet another battle station drill.

  Well, up here on the sterncastle, at least, it was peaceful. By unspoken agreement, the crew had deemed the sterncastle as “officer country.” Until battle stations were officially sounded and the ballista crews had to man their weapons, the afterdeck was reserved for the ship’s pensive captain and any members of his officer corps with the temerity to interrupt his thoughts.

  Even though he found this strange sign of respect rather amusing, Teldin had to appreciate the privacy. He needed time to think and figure out his feelings.

  Just what do I feel? he asked himself. Excitement, definitely. He might well have found the most important clue yet in his quest for an answer to the question of the cloak. Fear? That, too – stemming largely from the two sides of a single question: What if I don’t find the answer, and what if I do? Then there was a flurry of conflicting emotions, a bubbling stewpot of wants and desires, fears and anxieties, that he didn’t really want to analyze yet.

  “Serious thoughts?”

  He turned at the sound of a soft voice beside him.

  Julia was leaning against the aft rail an arm’s length from him. How long has she been there? he asked himself. The light of the distant Heart reflected off her hair, making it look like burning copper. With an effort, he turned his gaze away. He tried to appear natural as he strolled forward to the rail overlooking the open portion of the main deck. “Just thoughts,” he said as casually as he could manage. “How are you settling in?”

  She didn’t answer his question, just came forward as well to stand beside him. He could feel her proximity, even though she didn’t touch him, like the heat of a nearby fire. While the urge welled up inside him, he knew he couldn’t walk away again.

  For a long moment she remained silent, looking down at the activity on the deck below. Then, “You can’t avoid me forever, you know,” she said softly, her voice hardly above a whisper. She gave him a half smile, whether ironic or sad, he couldn’t tell. “It’s not that big a ship.”

  “I’ve been busy —” he started.

  “No,” she cut him off gently, “you haven’t.” She looked down at the main deck again. The silence stretched until Teldin felt he couldn’t stand it, felt he’d have to say something to break the tension.

  Then Julia spoke again. “I think I understand you, at last,” she said, almost as though she were talking to herself. “I didn’t before, not really, but I think I do now. You understand why I left you on Bral?”

  “You told me why, before we left Crescent.”

  “Not straight out,” she corrected him, “but I hinted at it. Do you really know why?” Without giving him time to answer, she went on, “Because I had to make a decision, Teldin Moore. I had to decide whose life I was going to live: mine or yours. Was I going to …” – she chuckled wryly – “take the helm of my own life, or let you chart my course for me?” She raised a soft hand to his lips, to silence his objections. “Oh, I know you wouldn’t have meant to control my actions,” she continued. “You might not even have known you were doing it. But you’d have done it just the same, just by being there.” She chuckled quietly. “Even if you’re not … whatever your first mate said, verentheslae … how could anyone be near the Cloakmaster without being swept up in his destiny?”

  She sighed. “And that’s the decision I had to make,” she said slowly. “Follow my destiny, or follow yours. I chose …” – she smiled again – “and look where I am now. Even my decision didn’t change anything, did it?

  “That’s why I understand you, Teldin Moore,” she continued, her voice quiet but intense. “You’re struggling with the same thing, aren’t you? Do you choose to live your own life, or choose to follow the course that someone else has charted for you? And if you choose your own course, what should that course be? That’s it, isn’t it?”

  Teldin couldn’t answer out loud. His throat felt so tight that he could hardly draw breath, let alone speak. He nodded – the slightest inclination of his head, but Julia saw it.

  “And that’s why you need me, Teldin,” she went on. Her voice was pitched barely above a whisper, but still the Cloakmaster had no trouble hearing it over the hubbub from the deck below. “You need someone who understands you. And someone who cares.”

  Teldin found himself unable to look her in the eyes. He could feel her gaze burning into him. “When you left …” he murmured.

  “I know I hurt you,” she conceded, “probably more than you let yourself admit. I’m not asking for forgiveness, or for anything like that. All I ask is that you let me care.”

  Again, the Cloakmaster couldn’t answer. There wasn’t anything to say, anyway. He reached out, took Julia’s soft hand, and squeezed hard, almost fiercely, and felt her return the pressure. Then both let their hands drop back to the rail. He felt a sense of release, deep in his chest – the sense that tension, so long-lived that he’d grown totally unaware of it, had now been relieved.

  “I’m glad you’re back,” Julia said quietly.

  Teldin raised an eyebrow. “It wasn’t me who went anywhere,” he reminded her.

  “Maybe not physically,” Julia replied, and left it at that.

  For a few more minutes they stayed across the rail. The crew seemed to be coming together, coalescing from a mob of disparate individuals into a team that could work smoothly as a unit.

  Except for one. Beth-Abz, the big man who’d come aboard with Julia, was among the other crewmen on the main deck, but he didn’t seem to be one of them. Even working shoulder to shoulder with the others, he seemed somehow apart. It wasn’t solely that the crew seemed to give him a wide berth – though that was part of it – but his manner, and the way he moved.

  Was that the truth, or were Teldin’s two strange experiences with the big man – the conviction of danger, and the image of a tooth-filled maw – warping his perceptions? No, he decided after a moment, Beth-Abz was different.

  But how? And what did those two experiences mean? Were they flashes of insight from the cloak? Or were they twinges of paranoia, with no basis in fact? Either way, he decided it was about time to find out …

  Julia seemed to pick up on his thoughts. “Beth-Abz,” she said slowly. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought him aboard.”

  Now that she’d opened the subject, Teldin could ask Julia the questions he’d wanted to since he’d first seen her in the Compact alley. “Who is he?” he queried. “Where did you meet him?”

  The copper-haired woman shrugged. “I met him on the docks,” she answered. “We’d both just come into port – our ships landed at almost the same time – and we’d both decided to look for berths on other vessels. We got to talking.” She paused. “He’s an interesting
man, Teldin … if you can get him to talk. He’s traveled a lot – visited places I’ve never even heard of. And he’s got a unique way of looking at the world.”

  “So you thought you’d sign on with the same ship?”

  “Why not?” she asked simply. “He was the only interesting person I’d met since Bral, and we both wanted passage off Crescent. Remember, this was before I heard that ‘Aldyn Brewer’ was hiring a crew. When I heard that, I … well, I decided to look into it, and suggested Beth-Abz tag along.”

  Teldin was silent for a moment. “This Beth-Abz,” he started, “he didn’t have any particular interest in sailing with ‘Aldyn Brewer,’ did he?”

  She shot him a sharp look. “That’s paranoid,” she told him flatly.

  It was his turn to shrug. “Paranoia’s the price I have to pay for staying alive.” Then his lips quirked up into a wry smile. “And that sounds even more paranoid, doesn’t it?”

  She returned his smile. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk through your neuroses later,” she chuckled. “But, no, he didn’t know whose ship we were going to approach, and he didn’t care. He just wanted to get back into space.”

  She hesitated, then went on more firmly, “Listen, Teldin, I just want to make one thing clear. I’ve never sailed with Beth-Abz. I don’t want you to think I’m vouching for him” – she paused again – “in any way. All right?”

  He nodded. “All right.”

  “So, fearless leader,” she said with a wicked grin, ‘don’t you think it’s time you told us exactly where we’re going? And maybe a little hint about why?”

  “Why don’t you go get Djan,” he suggested, “and meet me in my quarters? There are a few things you should know.”

  *****

  Teldin pulled a tightly folded piece of parchment from his belt pouch and spread it out on the table. Both Julia and Djan leaned forward for a closer look, then glanced up expectantly at Teldin.