Into the Void

responsibilities, his fears, and his memories. He felt drained, both emotionally and physically. When Sylvie had led him belowdecks, she'd started to take him to his cabin, but he'd had enough mental spark left to know that wouldn't be the right place. Dana was gone, Miggins was in the infirmary-expected to live, but probably missing an arm-and Horvath's presence would have been a reminder that it was all his, Teldin's, responsibility. He'd insisted on visiting the officers' saloon instead, and Sylvie had agreed without argument. As she'd left him, she'd touched his hand and given him a gentle smile. 'There are those who can help you,' she'd told him softly, then had left him alone, shutting the door behind her. He hadn't known just what to make of her cryptic words, but had recognized that he was hardly in the best condition to puzzle them out. There would always be later.

Teldin could hear the crew moving around the Probe's decks: cleaning up the blood, repairing the damage, and throwing the bodies of the dead overboard. Elsewhere, he knew that the ship's healers were treating those who could be saved and easing the last hours of those who couldn't. Julia, promoted to second mate after the death of Sweor Tobregdan, was seeing to the erstwhile neogi slaves, teaching them what she could about ship routine and explaining their duties. Everybody had duties, the officers most of all, so it wasn't surprising that he was alone in the saloon.

Everyone has duties except me, Teldin thought. They don't know what to do with me. From the start, he'd been more-or perhaps less-than a full member of the hammership's crew. His friendship with Aelfred and the way the big warrior treated him set him apart from the others, and, over the days, that had only increased. The rest of the crew had seen him hobnob with the captain and the first mate, and this he felt was the reason for the respect in which the crew seemed to hold him. Even when he was standing watch, the crew always treated him more like an officer than as one of them. And now?

As Sylvie had led him down from the forecastle, he'd seen the crew's reaction. They'd watched him-all the while trying to pretend they weren't watching him-and had moved out of his way, as though they expected three-rayed stars to burst from his fingertips and form a hissing curtain about him. He'd heard somebody mutter, 'Fighter-mage,' but when he'd turned to see who had said it, no one would meet his glance.

He'd always seemed to come, somehow, to the forefront of any group he was a member of, Teldin had to admit. In general, he got on well with the vast majority of people. Not that they always liked him, or he them, of course, but there was something about his manner that made it possible to deal with virtually anyone. There was no conceit in this admission; it just happened to be the case. After a while, people came to him for advice, and they listened to his answers. Even when he intended to keep his opinion quiet on a particular subject, people would try to secure that opinion from him as though it were something of value. It seemed that the more he remained aloof, the more he tried to stay out of the focus of an issue, the more people would believe his silence was a kind of calm wisdom. Teldin had never been able to understand this. He knew from personal experience that he was no more wise than the majority of people; quite the opposite, perhaps. He found it amusing, albeit somewhat irritating, at times. His grandfather had been like that, too, Teldin remembered, but the old man had shrugged it off with a typical grandfatherly comment: Better to keep your peace and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt. Of course, the aphorism wasn't appropriate: nobody thought grandfather a fool, except for perhaps his son.

The respect-no, more like awe-that he'd seen on the faces of the Probe's crew was something totally different. It wasn't him they respected, he was convinced, it was the power that he'd displayed on the forecastle. They thought of him as a wizard now, someone like Vallus or Sylvie, who could wield spells to protect them, to strike down enemies. They wouldn't understand or believe that he had no control of that power no knowledge of its source, purpose, or significance. They'd come to depend on him-as he'd come to depend, at least in part, on the focusing power of the cloak-and then the power wouldn't be there, and they'd suffer or die. This realization chilled him. It was yet another burden to bear.

'Ahem.' Someone coughed behind him. He turned quickly to see Aelfred standing in the middle of the saloon, hands on his hips, his lopsided smile in place. The warrior had replaced the bandage around his head with a clean one, Teldin noticed, but Aelfred still looked dirty and tired. 'How long have you been there?' he asked.

Aelfred shrugged. 'Long enough for you to solve the problems of the universe, maybe.' He pulled a chair up near Teldin and flopped down into it.

'How goes it above?'

For a moment, the big man seemed to sag. His exhaustion showed, making him look twenty years older. 'Messy.' He drew a scarred hand across his eyes. 'We lost a lot of good people.'

'I know.'

Aelfred looked at him a moment, his eyes steady. 'Yes,' he said quietly, 'I suppose you do, as much as any of us. Well.' He slapped his palms against his muscular thighs, shaking off his fatigue like a dog shakes off water. 'Estriss will be down in awhile to speak to you, but, in the meantime…' The warrior leaned forward, his voice low and intense, his eyes boring holes into Teldin. 'Just what in the name of all the demons of the pit went on up there? First you're fighting like an old hand, much better than you have any right to, and then…' He shook his big head in amazement. 'And then you're throwing spells like Elminster himself. And then you can't even defend yourself against someone who's already half-dead.' His voice took on a joking tone, but his eyes remained deadly serious. 'Don't you think there's something you should tell me?'

'Yes,' Teldin sighed heavily. 'I would have told you earlier, but…' He paused. 'Some of it's as much a surprise to me as it is to you.'

And to me. Liquid words formed in Teldin's mind. He looked up to see Estriss standing in the doorway. My day to be surprised, he thought. May I join you? the illithid asked. Both Aelfred and Teldin waved the mind flayer to a seat. 'I don't really know what to say,' Teldin told his warrior friend. 'I should have been honest with you from the start. I just…'

Aelfred gestured him to silence. 'Water under the keel,' he said flatly. 'You didn't know if you could trust me, so you held your tongue. If you want to keep breathing in this universe, that's what you've got to do. In fact,' he added thoughtfully, 'you should still ask yourself that question: Do you trust me? Don't answer too fast. You can always say something later, but you can't unsay it.' He sat back, watching Teldin calmly.

Teldin considered the big warrior's words for a moment, then nodded. 'I'm going to tell you,' he said firmly. 'What happened today-'

The illithid's mental voice cut him off. Background is often important, Estriss said, and in this case I feel it is key. Perhaps you should start from the beginning.

Teldin nodded agreement. Quickly but thoroughly he repeated the tale of how he'd come to possess the cloak, of his encounters with the neogi, and how he'd escaped from Krynn with the gnomes. Throughout, Aelfred remained silent, taking it all in. Teldin watched the big man's intelligent eyes. He quickly recognized the flicker that indicated that he'd left something out or hadn't given enough detail, and made sure to remedy that immediately. As a result, there was no need for questions. 'That takes us up to today,' Teldin eventually concluded.

Aelfred rubbed his tired eyes. 'Improbable, incredible, impossible,' he grumbled. 'If I hadn't seen what I saw today, I wouldn't believe a word of it.'

The power is there, Estriss interjected, and the tale has its own kind of consistency.

'I know that,' Aelfred countered, 'and I don't disbelieve you, Teldin. It's just that…' He waved his hand in the air to indicate confusion. 'I don't understand magic… and truth be told, I don't trust it or like it much, not deep down.' He sighed. 'You've got no idea who these… these creators are?'

'Estriss believes they might be the Juna,' Teldin answered slowly.

Aelfred let out a bark of laughter. 'Well, he would, now, wouldn't he? No offense meant, Estriss. It's just that you-or anybody, I'm no different-you're going to see everything through your own interests and preconceptions.' He shot Teldin a keen glance. 'What do you think?'

Teldin hesitated a moment, then shrugged.

The first mate laughed again. 'Playing it close to the chest, I see. Of course you don't know who the creators are. Of course you don't have any suspicions. And of course your interest in the arcane was just coincidental. Well, I freely admit I know nothing of such things.' The big man's humor faded, and his face grew serious again. 'This cloak has cost a lot,' he pointed out quietly.

Teldin felt cold. The cost weighed heavily on him, probably always would. All the deaths-the gnomes in Mount Nevermind, the crewmen aboard the Probe-were his fault, and would haunt him for the rest of his life. He nodded miserably. Aelfred's hand grasped his shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. Teldin looked