So thinking, Teldin greeted Rozloom and settled himself on the offered stool. He paled when the gypsy set a half pint of pale amber liquid before him. The elves – who, despite their delicate appearance, had an astounding capacity for potent spirits – traditionally served the stuff in tiny, fluted glasses. In his still-weakened state, Teldin figured that two sips would put him eye-level with the diminutive Om. “You seem to be adjusting to life aboard ship, Rozloom,” he observed, unobtrusively pushing his drink aside.
The aperusa resumed his seats and nodded avidly. “And why not?” He took a long pull at his tankard and smacked his lips with gusto. “Fine drink this ship has, good food, and many women.” A gleeful leer lit Rozloom’s face as he jerked his head toward a lithesome elven woman measuring spices into a huge bowl of batter. He elbowed Teldin companionably. “Look and learn, Captain. Your last crew, it had no such women. Without them wildspace is a cold place, yes?” The gypsy punctuated his foray into philosophy with a chuckle and another solid nudge to Teldin’s ribs.
An agitated clatter forestalled Teldin’s reply. Om picked up the tool she’d dropped and leveled a brown-eyed glare at Rozloom. “No women, eh? And what would you call me?”
Black brows flew upward in genuine surprise. “A gnome?” guessed the gypsy.
Om huffed indignantly and squared her tiny shoulders. Teldin watched, fascinated, as she drew herself up to a regal four feet. He’d never seen Om show interest in anything other than machinery, yet there she was, the very picture of female pique. “Among gnomes, I’m considered very attractive,” the tiny woman informed Rozloom with dignity.
The aperusa looked pointedly at the stove parts scattered around the floor. “Among gnomes, you’re considered a technician.”
Teldin winced and braced himself for the gnome’s rejoinder. To his surprise, Om’s small brown face relaxed into a coquettish smile. Being a gnome, she’d taken Rozloom’s insult as the highest possible praise. She acknowledged the “compliment” with a satisfied nod and returned to her tinkering. Teldin shook his head in silent amazement. The shipboard gossip that had trickled down to Teldin’s sickroom had included Rozloom’s vow to charm every woman on board. Teldin had considered this to be so much amusing bluster, but subsequent gossip suggested that the aperusa was succeeding more often than not.
Oblivious to his effect on the smitten gnome, Rozloom drained his tankard and wiped his mustache with the back of his hand. “Ah, that is good. You will have more?” When Teldin shook his head, Rozloom shrugged and emptied most of the bottle into his own mug. “So, Captain, to what shall we drink?”
Teldin edged his tankard even farther away from him, hoping to signal his lack of interest in toast-making. “Actually, there’s something about Hectate Kir.”
Rozloom nodded agreeably. “If you say so, Captain.” He raised his mug in salute. “His health!”
Teldin caught the gypsy’s wrist while the tankard was still south of the enormous mustache. “No, I have a question about Hectate.”
“Ahh.” Rozloom set the mug down carefully and folded his arms over his vast belly. His bronze features arranged themselves into a parody of a sage adviser. “What would you know, Captain?”
“Well, to start with, why is he working here in the galley when he’s so skilled in navigation? Why do the elves act as if he’s not worthy of their notice?”
Rozloom twisted one bushy eyebrow into a sardonic quirk. “That is unusual for an elf?”
Teldin conceded the point, but added, “They are far more cordial to you and me than to Hectate. I can’t figure that out.”
“It is not so very difficult. These elves of yours, Captain, they do not believe that half an elf is better than none.”
“Pardon?”
“Hectate Kir is a half-breed,” the aperusa said bluntly. “The elves, they are an ancient people with old ways. They do not like change. A half-elf is a step toward becoming what they are not. They do not see what might be gained, only what is lost.” Rozloom held up a finger and waggled it, indicating that an idea had occurred to him. He picked up the almost empty bottle of elven spirits and splashed a little of the amber liquid into another tankard, then he called for a pitcher of water and filled the huge mug to the brim. He presented the resulting pale yellow fluid to Teldin with a theatrical flourish. “Care to drink, Captain?”
Teldin waved away the disgusting stuff. “You’ve made your point.”
“Good,” Rozloom murmured distractedly, no longer interested in the lesson. His small black eyes followed an elven woman who was carrying a stack of nested bowls toward what appeared to be a larder. She shot an arch, inviting glance over her shoulder before she disappeared. The aperusa was on his feet instantly, preening his massive beard with an air of anticipation.
“Ah, but hypocrisy is a wonderful thing in an elven woman!” he noted with deep satisfaction. “My apologies, Captain, but you understand?”
Rozloom was gone before Teldin could reply. With amazing speed for one of his bulk, the gypsy made his way across the galley and shut the larder door firmly behind him and his latest conquest.
The strange conversation left Teldin puzzled and suddenly exhausted. He made his way back to his cabin, and was just tugging off his boots when a crisp knock sounded at the door. “Come in,” he called wearily.
Vallus Leafbower stepped into the room, resplendent in his blue-and-silver uniform. “You look much different from when we last spoke. I trust you’re feeling better?”
“Well, I’m a little tired,” he hinted.
“I’ll leave you to your rest momentarily. You should know that we make landfall tomorrow, three bells into the first watch.”
Suddenly alert, Teldin motioned the elf into the room. “Where are we going?”
“Toril.”
Teldrin’s blue eyes narrowed. “Why Toril? And don’t bother to tell me you were on your way there when you just happened to bump into my ship.”
Vallus took the chair at the side of Teldin’s cot and faced down the angry human. “We are going to do what I advised you to do months ago: We are going to seek answers to your cloak and your quest from the sages of Evermeet,” he said with quiet finality.
“Really. And do I have any choice in the matter?”
“Have you another destination in mind?” the elf asked mildly. “My orders are to help you find the Spelljammer. If you can suggest a better way to go about it, I’d be happy to listen.”
That stopped Teldin. As he thought it over, he realized that Vallus’s choice fit his own plans rather well. If he wanted to continue his search without relying on the elves for transportation, he would have to purchase a new ship. That problem had been pressing on his mind for days, and perhaps Evermeet presented a solution. There was enough gold left in his bag for a modest down payment, but Teldin knew that as an unknown, inexperienced captain making a voyage of exploration into deep space, he was not exactly a good risk. He doubted anyone would be willing to extend him credit. The elves, perhaps, might prove an exception. They regretted the treacherous behavior of one of their own, Admiral Cirathorn. Although Teldin didn’t like the idea, he figured he would have to find out how far the elves would go to make amends.
“Evermeet’s fine,” he muttered grudgingly. “Hectate and I will be looking for another ship.”
Vallus shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s out of the question.”
So it was true, Teldin thought. He was a prisoner of the elves. “You’re saying I can’t leave the swan ship?”
The elf’s surprise seemed genuine. “Not at all. You may come and go as you will, but Hectate Kir cannot set foot on Evermeet.”
Teldin’s resentment over his friend’s treatment returned in full measure. “Why? Because he’s half-elven?”
“Yes.”
Teldin shot both hands through his hair, astounded that the elven wizard didn’t even bother to hide his bigotry. “That’s ridiculous,” he sputtered.
“I agree,” Vallus said evenly,
“but the decision is not mine to make. I personally have no objection to Hectare Kir.”
“Is that so? Then why is the crew treating him like a pariah? Why is a skilled navigator – the best I’ve seen! – washing dishes instead of taking shifts on the bridge?”
The elf’s green eyes remained steady. “I am the captain of the Trumpeter, and therefore my dictates are followed. I cannot, however, transfer my beliefs and values to the crew. Elves tend to be an insular people, and many of my crewmen distrust the half-elf. Putting your friend on the bridge would create more tension that the exercise merits.”
Teldin shook his head adamantly. “No. I can’t agree that you should abandon a principle merely because upholding it might create a little discomfort,” he said with scathing sarcasm. To his surprise, his wrathful answer brought a smile to Vallus’s face.
“You do not disappoint me, Teldin Moore.”
He threw up his hands in exasperation. “I live to please. Now, I’m sorry if this ruffles a few elven feathers, but I need to bring Hectate with me. If I’m to purchase a new ship, I need the advice of someone I can trust, someone from my own crew.”
“Surely you know that the swan ship is at your disposal,” Vallus told him. “After we visit Evermeet, you may choose whatever course you wish. You do not need another ship.”
“Sorry, but I don’t care for the strings attached to your offer,” Teldin said bluntly.
The elf received this information with a long silence. “Very well. I ask only that you keep an open mind and not make your final decision until after we speak with the elves of Evermeet.”
The human shrugged. “If you like, but Hectate comes with me,” he insisted.
“That is not possible,” Vallus repeated. “No half-elves are allowed on Evermeet. It is not permitted for me as an ambassador of the Imperial Fleet to violate a rule of the groundling elves. If you wish, you may bring other, more acceptable crew members.”
“Like Rozloom?” Teldin asked with heavy irony.
Vallus had the grace to smile. “That choice might not further diplomatic relations. Actually, I had the dracons in mind.”
“Chirp and Trivit?” echoed Teldin in disbelief.
“Why not? They are fine sailors, born and raised in the void. Since they now are part of your family, so to speak, they have a very personal stake in choosing your next ship.”
Teldin’s eyes narrowed. He suspect that Vallus was teasing him, but he could detect no sign on humor on the elf’s angular, aristocratic face. Neither could he see any real reason for leaving the dracons behind, so he gave in with a gut-deep sigh. “All right. They can come.”
“Then only one minor matter remains.” Vallus excused himself and left the cabin. He returned almost immediately with a large, paper-wrapped bundle, which he handed to Teldin. “Since your possessions were either lost or damaged in the last battle, we took the liberty of replacing some of them.”
With a feeling of apprehension, Teldin untied the string. He had a mental picture of himself gadding about in the shining silver favored by the Imperial Fleet. He didn’t particularly like the idea of appearing before elven royalty in his only set of battered clothing, but wearing an elven uniform would be making a statement of allegiance that he could not support.
To his surprise, the bundle contained several dark garments. He shook out the first, a shirt of fine black silk. Black trousers, a dark jacket, and several other garments completed the package. The cut of the clothing was almost identical to his old wardrobe, except that the quality of fabric and workmanship far surpassed anything he’d ever owned. At the bottom of the package were finely tooled leather items: boots, a belt and scabbard, even a new money sack.
“We had these made while you were ill, using your old things as a measure. I trust they are satisfactory?”
“Very,” Teldin murmured, still stunned by the thoughtfulness of the gift.
“Then we shall meet after we make landfall. Sleep well.” Vallus was gone before Teldin realized he’d forgotten to thank him.
Chapter Eight
Chirp and Trivit responded to the news of their furlough with such glee that Teldin was glad he’d agreed to Vallus’s suggestion. However, Teldin made a point of talking to Hectate and explaining the position of the Evermeet elves. The half-elf seemed quietly pleased by Teldin’s concern, but he shrugged off the rebuff as if it were of no consequence. Teldin got the distinct impression that the whole thing mattered more to him than it did to Hectate.
Everyone whose duty schedule permitted gathered at the swan ship’s railings to watch the descent to Evermeet. Rozloom was there, uncharacteristically surly over not being allowed ashore. Following him like a tiny brown shadow was Om, who remained more or less invisible to the aperusa. Despite his professed lack of interest, Hectate joined Teldin at the railing, as did Vallus Leafbower. Chirp and Trivit kept up a running dialogue, speculating about the wonders that awaited them ashore, until Teldin began to give serious consideration to throttling them.
Vallus acknowledged the exasperated expression on Teldin’s face with a faint, sympathetic smile. “Try to appreciate the dracons’ curiosity,” the elf suggested. “So few maintain it past youth that your clan’s enthusiasm is actually refreshing.”
Kaba or not, Teldin was about to take issue with the elf’s casual reference to clan, but he saw that he no longer had Vallus’s attention. The elf was absorbed in the scene spread out before them, and his angular face was rapt with wonder. The elf’s expression was a perfect replication of what Teldin always felt upon making landfall. For the first time Teldin felt a touch of sympathy – even kinship – with the elven wizard. He turned his own attention back to the rapidly approaching world.
Teldin watched, fascinated, as the jewellike island of Evermeet came up to meet them. “So many shades of green,” he murmured. “I didn’t know so many different greens existed.”
“Evermeet is heavily wooded,” Vallus explained. “There are ancient forests on the island, but much of the foliage has been cultivated to produce shades of green, blue, gold, and silver. In different lights and at different times of year, certain colors predominate. From this height all meld into the unusual green you see before you.”
The swan ship spread its wings and began its descent, finally splashing down about a league off the coast. The small group clung to the railing for balance as the ship rocked, and Teldin heard the deep, creaking groan of turning gears.
“They’re lowering the paddles now,” Hectate informed him.
“Paddles?” broke in Om, her small brown eyes lighting with interest. Gnomes, Teldin recalled, had a perverse fondness for paddle-driven ships and were always on the alert for new variations on the theme. “What do these paddles look like?” she demanded.
“Like any swan’s feet, only very large,” Rozloom supplied absently, his tone morose.
The gnome harrumphed. “Inefficient,” she muttered. “Give me a day or two, and I could improve the design.”
Rozloom rolled his black eyes. “If only they knew, many swans would rejoice this night.” His insult earned him a playful swat from the tiny gnome woman.
Once the rolling motion subsided, the ship began to move forward. Almost immediately the swan ship was surrounded by a host of elves, strange fey creatures with webbed hands and skin beautifully patterned in hues of mottled blue and green. They formed two lines, one on each side of the ship, and began to swim toward the shore.
Teldin leaned far out over the railing to watch, awed by the elves’ exotic beauty. Their eyes were large and lacked the characteristic almond shape of other elves. Their hair was like nothing he had seen: masses of wet, silvery curls that caught the early morning sunlight and reflected it back as if through a prism. The elves sang as they swam, communicating in a lyrical language that mixed windsong voices with a haunting counterpoint of clicks and whistles.
“What are they doing?” Teldin asked in a hushed whisper.
They are guiding the ship safel
y along a channel of deep water,” Vallus explained. “The waters around Evermeet are extremely treacherous. The island is guarded by lethal rock and coral formations, underwater currents strong enough to rip apart unwary ships, powerful magical wards, and even a guardian monster or two.”
The elves guided the ship through the channel to the docks, then disappeared into the deep. As he stared out into the waves, Teldin found himself wondering what world within a world existed under the surface of the water.
The elven port soon claimed his full attention. The elves that greeted them at the dock were more familiar to Teldin. Slim and supple as aspen trees, the golden elves were very like those with whom he had sailed many months earlier on his native Krynn. These harbor workers set about securing the swan ship, and another contingent of elves met them with great ceremony and escorted them to a floating, odd-shaped litter. Teldin stared dubiously at the thing, but he clambered aboard. Since the dracons were far too large to ride the elven conveyance, they ambled along beside, drawing stares as they went. Teldin noted many curious glances cast in his direction as well.
Vallus leaned close to Teldin. “As you may have guessed, your presence here is an unusual occurrence. In elven memory – which is long – the humans allowed on Evermeet can be counted on the fingers of one hand.”
“I’m honored beyond speech,” Teldin said with grave formality.
Vallus’s silver eyebrows rose slightly, acknowledging the human’s sarcasm. He refrained from commenting, but his expression tightened. “I have arranged an audience with the queen. With her will be some of Evermeet’s most renowned sages.” He paused to let the import of his words sink in. “Am I safe in assuming that you are unaccustomed to the ways of royalty and scholars?”
“For one who knows as much about me as you do, that seems like a safe assumption,” Teldin returned. He did not care for the elf’s patronizing tone.
Vallus sighed deeply and passed a hand over his forehead. “You may not believe this, Teldin Moore, but I’m trying to help you. With all my heart I want you to find the Spelljammer.” Teldin made no attempt to hide his skepticism, and the elf sighed again. “You still don’t believe me.”
The Radiant Dragon Page 11
