The Maelstrom's Eye

by Roger Moore

  “You called?” came the invisible feminine voice. “I’m not in the mood,” Vorr said bluntly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “Just get it out.”

  He heard Usso snort. “Short of temper, are we? You wanted to know about the lich, or whatever it is? Well, it isn’t a lich, I can tell that. You nailed that right. It lacks all the basic lich parts. A lich is a lot more than a bare skeleton in a robe. I couldn’t break its disguise without it knowing, but it does show up as undead, as an organized evil being – which liches aren’t particularly – and as thick with magic, especially illusion. It also has no personal history, so it isn’t who it says it is. I’d guess it was another undead creature that for some reason wants to look like a lich. It’s not lying about the cloak, anyway. It wants it so badly it could just about fall apart.”

  Vorr thought it over. He could end the charade by touching the lich, but he felt like playing along for now. “Can we trust it not to kill us if it gets the cloak?”

  “Kobas,” said the silken voice, “if you had your big hands ready to grab the universe by the neck, would you think anyone could trust you?”

  Vorr grunted. “Recommendations?”

  “Leave the ground troops here, the orcs and goblins, but get the fleet up for a spin. Hit the Rock of Bral if the human’s still there. When you grab the cloak, break some bones – Skarkesh’s. And when you do get it, toss the cloak to me, not to that senile orc-dog you take orders from.”

  Vorr looked up sharply. “You are out of line.”

  There was faint laughter in the air. “Use that tone with me again, Kobas, and you can sleep by yourself.”

  Vorr felt his face darken. “If you play games with me,” he said evenly, “I’ll see that you go hungry for a month. You know I can do it. You know what that feels like. You know you can’t escape me.”

  In the silence that followed, Vorr heard a presence stir behind him. A small, soft hand appeared on his left shoulder, sliding over his rough gray skin.

  “You were joking with me, weren’t you, Kobas?” said the sweet voice, a trace of anxiety behind it. “You know I hate to joke about that. I don’t like to go hungry.”

  Vorr reached up, his broad hand swallowing hers whole. He slowly turned in his seat and looked into the long-lashed almond eyes of a human woman with long black hair. Her yellow-brown skin was paler than when he had last seen her; she must be quite hungry already. It had been three days since she’d fed last, on an elf prisoner who’d lasted only a day.

  Vorr knew all that lay behind those eyes. If he gave Usso the cloak, she would be only marginally more trustworthy than the false lich. He’d have to watch her closely from now on and warn the war priests and the admiral if she showed signs of treachery; she’d be dangerous right up to the end. It was a good thing Usso couldn’t read his mind the way she could everyone else’s.

  “Mad at me?” asked the woman. She ran her hands over the sides of his face. “Will you feed me soon?”

  She’d love to have the Spelljammer, Vorr knew. She could pick her meals from any populated world she chose. She was almost as bad as a vampire. Vorr remembered seeing Usso for the first time, a prisoner from an Oriental human-built dragonship. She’d looked human enough; in fact, she’d looked like an old male wizard. The old man’s skills and charisma had impressed his captors, and soon he was adopted into the Tarantula Fleet. Only the general knew the truth about her. All he’d had to do was to touch the old man, and the shapeshifted form had melted away. Vorr had kept Usso’s secret, but he had named a price for it.

  “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe later tonight.”

  Her long white robes stirred in back; she had wagged her tail in her excitement. Hu hsien, she had called her race, fox women with spells and an endless hunger for human life energy. “I wish you could find a human for me, Kobas. I’m getting tired of those elves, but anything’s better than a goblin. Could you find a human for me?”

  “I might find one for you,” Vorr said. Still holding her hand firmly in one of his own, he reached out and caught her under the chin, forcing her to look at him. “But you owe me, Usso, for ruining my fight today.” His grip tightened as he pulled her closer, and she winced, her eyes tearing up with the pain. “You owe me a lot.”

  “Careful,” she said in a quavering voice. “You get rough sometimes. Be careful, Kobas.”

  “Of course,” he said.

  It was a very good thing, the general thought again as he pulled her face to his, that she couldn’t read his mind.

  Chapter Five

  The door to the captain’s cabin had barely closed when the argument started.

  “Aelfred, you’ve got to get rid of Gaye.”

  The warrior looked up in shock. “You’re kidding me.”

  “Tell her we’re overbooked. Tell her you have an unlucky number of crew aboard. Just get her off the ship.”

  “Old son, you’re not making any sense.”

  “Gaye is a kender. You don’t understand what kender are like. They’re pure trouble. We’re just begging for —”

  “Ptah’s black beard, Teldin, do you hear what you’re saying? You served on this ship when it was commanded by a mind flayer, and just a minute ago you asked me to hire on a gnome, but now you’re having a fit over a girl who —”

  “A kender! Aelfred, kender will steal you blind without even thinking about it. They’re not evil – that’s not what I’m saying – but they can’t help themselves. They steal, they wander off and bring back trouble, they —”

  “No!” shouted Aelfred. He raised a thick finger and jabbed it an inch from Teldin’s nose. “You stupid son of a bitch, we are nor going to start a fight here about a kender, whatever the hells a kender is, and we aren’t going to start up about this one. She was aboard just an hour when she caught two thieves trying to make off with one of our silk crates. We caught’em both because she was so fast and quiet that she got five of us after them before the thieves had even cleared the docks. Then she fixed the rear catapult’s trigger lock. And she says she can cook. There’s no shame in having a woman cook aboard ship once in a while, and if she wants to do it, I’m all for it, so cut out this crap. What’s eating you?”

  Teldin dropped his gaze and rubbed a hand over his face. He could see it wasn’t going to work. “She lied to you, Aelfred,” he said, feeling tired and frustrated. “I didn’t send her over here. She’s just a – just a gypsy, some homeless kender I ran into in the Greater Market. I couldn’t get rid of her. I’m just —”

  Aelfred slammed a fist into a wall. Teldin started and looked up. “So, she lied! Who in the Nine Hells cares? I lied to get aboard my first spelljammer. I didn’t know what I was in for, but I wouldn’t have cared if I had, you know that. I had people after me. I can’t hold it against every person who tells me a lie just to serve on a ship, as long as he or she’s got skills worth having!” Aelfred paused to clear his throat, then suddenly gave Teldin a crooked smile. “If nothing else, she’s a long sight better looking than you are. We’ve needed some color around here, and she’s just in time.”

  Teldin frowned. “She’s just a kid, Aelfred,” he said, even though he wasn’t quite sure of that.

  Aelfred snorted and suppressed a laugh. “Gods, Teldin, there are no kids in wildspace. She can handle herself. I’m not saying that looks mean everything, but it sure brightened up my day to have her on board.” He stared at Teldin hard. “You never came out with so much jettison before. Did the elves throw a hate-kender spell at you, or what?”

  Teldin said nothing in return. His gaze dropped under Aelfred’s own. Strangely, he found it hard to pinpoint what had set him off. He’d been angry with Gaye’s intrusion, and he had never trusted the few kender he’d known. Something else was eating at him about Gaye. He couldn’t say what.

  “Speaking of the elves,” Aelfred said, his voice growing warmer again, “how did things go? What did they have to say about your cloak?”

  After a few moments, Teldin w
ent along with the change in topic and related everything that had happened since he had left the Probe hours earlier. Aelfred whistled when he heard the news about the connection between the Spelljammer and the cloak, and he grimaced when Dyffed’s passenger status was explained, but the document that Teldin produced giving them access to Imperial Fleet supplies in the Rock of Bral’s warehouses made his jaw drop.

  “I’ve never heard of the Imperial Fleet giving anyone anything if that person wasn’t also in the fleet,” he said, staring at the paper as if it had just given him kingship over a planet. “I can’t believe they’d just do that.”

  “Cirathorn was going to give me some papers on their research into the Spelljammer, too, but he said they needed time to get their notes together. I don’t know why I didn’t trust them.” After a moment, he let his breath out slowly. “No, I do know why. I have a hard time trusting people these days. It just seems like …” He ran a hand through his hair. “Every time people get a look at the cloak, things change.”

  Aelfred watched his friend carefully. Teldin was on the verge of saying something more, but didn’t. They both knew what wasn’t being said. Other faces and names joined them in the room, with memories of betrayal and blood. Teldin had given up counting those who’d died in the wake of his cloak.

  “Hey, old son,” said Aelfred quietly, “We’ve got to use this writ before it expires on us. I’ve got a ton of stuff I need to get if we’re going to run through this sphere. Let’s sit down and make out a market list.”

  Teldin nodded. He was still angry, but tired now, too. “I didn’t mean to get so upset about Gaye,” he said suddenly. “She’s probably a good kid, but she …” He fought for words, then gave up. “Just put a lock on your door.”

  Aelfred grinned. “I never lock any woman out.” He took a light punch at Teldin’s shoulder, but as he did so his grin faded and he looked away. “Speaking of which, Julia was looking for you …. She wanted to say good-bye, Teldin.”

  Aelfred continued as Teldin’s expression slid from one of surprise to resignation to depression. “She came to me for permission to leave the crew. Said she’d gotten a commission on another ship. She left you this.”

  Teldin took the folded scrap of parchment offered him. He opened it to find the words “It’s better this way” hastily scratched across it and few locks of coppery hair caught in the crease.

  Aelfred cleared his throat, obviously uncomfortable, then headed for the cabin door. There he paused. “Listen, we’ll write down what supplies we need to get while we have a drink, and then we’ll get our gear from the elves. It’ll be like Midwinter Festival back home.”

  Teldin nodded mechanically. The big warrior’s joking change of subject hit a raw nerve, but Teldin wasn’t willing to fight about it. Thinking of Julia made him think of the traitor Rianna, since she had nearly killed both Julia and Teldin before he and Aelfred had killed her. Sometimes, when he wasn’t careful, he still saw Rianna’s bloodied face, her feral grin, the spear that pinned her to the deck. If he was very incautious, he remembered other things that had passed between Rianna and him, things he wished had never happened. Julia’s departure had to be for the better. What kind of death would she have suffered to be his companion? he wondered. Without thinking, Teldin reached up and fingered the silver chain that held his cloak. It took time to come back to reality when that period passed.

  *****

  Writing down the supply list took five tankards of ale, only one of which was Aelfred’s. Teldin nodded off as he finished his last ale, and Aelfred walked him back to his cabin. The big warrior left Teldin asleep in his hammock.

  Gaye was topside, talking with a deck hand about repairing a broken railing on the main deck. Aelfred motioned her over. They walked back toward the stern castle stairs, where they leaned on the railing and looked together at the flapping gullions and the empty dock to starboard.

  “He’s taking a rest now,” said Aelfred, supporting his weight on his elbows. “Meeting the elves wore him out. Got a lot on his mind.”

  “I thought he did,” said Gaye, chin resting on her folded hands. “He was really tense when we met. We ran around, then he had to see the elves. Is he okay?”

  “Ah.” Aelfred waved a hand. “Fine. Well, son of. Our second mate took off, and he was a little down about it. I think he liked her. He’s also sort of worried about you.”

  Gaye blinked. “Oh. I thought he was angry with me.”

  “Well, he’s got this thing about – well, kender. He was afraid you might get into trouble. He says he’s known kender who steal things.”

  Gaye chewed her lower lip. “Some do.”

  “That’s probably it, then,” Aelfred said, as if the knowledge solved everything. “Stealing things wouldn’t go over well here. It would cause a lot of trouble.”

  “Yeah.” Gaye watched a particularly large gullion wheel in flight nearby, over the docks. “I can understand that.”

  “That’s good.” Aelfred suddenly sounded much more cheerful. “Anyway, Teldin should be fine in a few hours. Didn’t sleep well before we got here. Too keyed up.”

  “Can I stay? On the ship, I mean.”

  Aelfred looked into her wildspace eyes with a crooked grin. “Are you kidding?” He pulled away from the railing. “I owe you a drink. I always buy a new crewmate one free drink.” He suddenly stopped and looked directly at Gaye. “Say, forgive me for asking, but just how old are you?”

  Gaye looked up at him, thought carefully, then told the truth. “Forty seven.”

  Aelfred went limp. He stepped back, mouth open. “No.” Gaye gave Aelfred a slow smile. “Yeah. Isn’t it incredible?"

  "Damn.” He stared at her for a long moment, then suddenly began laughing aloud, slapping his thighs. Other crewmen stopped working to stare at him with astonishment. When he could contain himself, he just shook his head. “Come on,” he said with a wide grin, motioning her to follow him to the saloon. “You’re old enough for a real drink.”

  “I’ll be there right after I visit the head,” she said brightly. Aelfred waved and headed off to get started.

  She put the compass, the three coins, the earring, and the belaying pin back where she had found them – more or less – before she ran down to the saloon.

  *****

  Getting the supplies from the Imperial Fleet two days later proved to be absurdly simple. Its crew safely aboard and ready for the journey to Ironpiece, the Probe slid backward from its dock, drew away from the end by half the ship’s hundred-foot length, then dropped toward the Rock’s invisible gravity plane only a few more feet below them.

  “Turn us over,” called Aelfred from the forecastle.

  The hammership slowly began to rotate on its long axis, as if rolling over in a storm. Teldin felt a now-familiar sense of vertigo. His stomach churned, and his palms grew sweaty. Finally, he looked away from the vast stony bulk of the Rock spread out before him, letting his stomach settle as he stared out at the turning stars in the empty blackness of wildspace. That wasn’t so bad. He couldn’t help thinking that the Rock was flipping over, and everyone on it would be crushed.

  The elven Imperial Fleet maintained storehouses for its naval ships at the sprawling naval base on the reverse side of the Rock of Bral. The Probe very slowly cruised up the side of a great rocky face from which dozens of windows and batteries of ballistae and catapults peered. Up one hundred, three hundred, maybe five hundred feet, the lip of the cliff came into view. The weapons batteries were numerous, and among them were many unfamiliar but discomforting weapons. Weapons’ crewmen sullenly watched the Probe pass by, hands resting on crossbows or the release levers of loaded siege engines. There were even a few huge versions of the smokepowder pistols that the giff Gomja once had carried with him. Teldin shook off the depressing memory of Gomja’s death, earned by battling neogi and umber hulks on their own ship when it crashed into a mountain lake on Krynn.

  The Probe reached the cliff ledge and rose over it. Ahead was
a flat plain of smooth rock marked in a grid pattern with huge white stripes and dots lights shone from tall poles on the edges of the plain. Red-brick weapons’ towers abounded, far and near. Teldin saw two wasp ships, each hovering just twenty feet above the plain about fifty feet away, one to port and one to starboard.

  “We have clearance,” sang the lookout. Teldin glanced forward and saw a bright yellow light shining directly ahead from the base of another great cliff face, perhaps five hundred feet away. The light was directly over the rightmost one of three titanic gray doors, each capable of swallowing the Probe and a dozen like it at once.

  “Slow ahead,” said Aelfred. “Let’s take our time.” The Probe glided forward over the plain. Teldin now saw that the plain was a sort of naval landing field or dry dock. Huge wood-and-iron doors were set into the rock at various places, for purposes Teldin couldn’t begin to guess at. Sealed boxes and short stacks of lumber were visible here and there across the rock flats. Even a few walking figures were visible, but for the most part the field was clear.

  The monstrous gray door toward which they glided led into a dark hall illumined by hundreds of lights in its high-vaulted ceiling. Teldin saw a man carrying a box from which a red light suddenly glared toward the Probe.

  “All stop!” barked Aelfred. The ship groaned slightly as it came to a halt only thirty feet from the hangar doors. A single silver-armored figure, smaller and thinner than an adult man but with a straight-backed bearing that marked him as a military officer, stood next to the doors. The figure, Teldin realized, was Admiral Cirathorn. The elf slowly waved in greeting. “Your supplies can be loaded aboard your ship using our portable cranes,” he called in a pleasant voice. “All you requested is yours.”