Into the Void

possibly an old, notched broadsword that he'd taken from a worthy foe or the pennant of a unit he'd fought with. There would be charts and books piled everywhere. It would be a comfortable refuge for a man who needed escape from his responsibilities.

If Teldin had ever considered himself an infallible judge of character, Aelfred's cabin would have destroyed that notion for good. The small cabin was spartan, almost bare. There were no trophies on the bulkheads, no books-in fact, nothing at all that gave it any sense of the owner's personality. A traveling chest-presumably containing Aelfred's personal effects-was at the foot of the narrow wooden bunk. A small desk was bolted to the bulkhead beside the door, and a padded bench was mounted below the porthole. The only thing that matched Teldin's expectations was the chart: there was a star chart on the desk, held in place by small metal clips.

In retrospect, Teldin realized that this was the kind of cabin he should have expected all along. How much time did Aelfred actually spend in his cabin? Virtually none, it seemed. The warrior was always on the bridge or wandering about the ship. To a man like that, a cabin would be a place to sleep, nothing more. Why would he bother to decorate it, or even give it the stamp of his own personality, when he'd have virtually no time to see it?

Teldin smiled to himself. Aelfred was still something of an enigma in some ways, but Teldin was slowly coming to understand the burly warrior better.

He stretched luxuriously. Well, he thought, it's time I was out and about. What time was it, anyway? That was something about shipboard life he'd never quite gotten used to. Whether the ship was in wildspace or in the flow, there was no way to tell what the time was just by looking. You had to depend on the ship's bell, and even then it wasn't obvious what watch it was.

He listened for a moment. The ship was fairly quiet, no loud noises on deck. That didn't mean much, of course. After the battle with the neogi, Aelfred would probably choose to run the ship with as few people on watch as possible and give the others a chance to sleep.

Where was Aelfred, anyway?

Teldin opened the cabin door. A crew member was passing but stopped when she saw Teldin standing in the doorway. She edged back a little, as if to give him plenty of room.

'What time is it?' he asked.

'Two bells, sir.'

Teldin raised an eyebrow. 'Sir,' was it? The level of respect had grown even more than he'd thought. He had to admit it was pleasant, in a way, but it was based on a misinterpretation. Oh, well, he thought, there wasn't much he could do about it now.

Two bells. That meant he'd been asleep for about eight solid hours. He stretched again, enjoying the tension in his well-rested muscles. He gestured with his thumb forward toward the bridge. 'Who has forenoon watch on the bridge?' he asked.

The woman looked at him strangely. 'It's two bells in the night watch, sir,' she told him.

Absently he thanked her, and she went about her business. Night watch meant he'd been asleep for about twenty-four hours. No wonder he felt so fully rested.

'Where's Aelfred Silverhorn?' he suddenly thought to call after the woman, but she'd already vanished down the companionway to the cargo deck. He shrugged. Odds were, the first mate was on the bridge. He started forward.

Then a noise from across the corridor-from the officers' saloon-stopped him. It was a snorting rumble of some kind. At first he couldn't identify it, then a broad grin spread across his face. Quietly he crossed to the saloon door and opened it.

He'd found Aelfred. The first mate was sprawled bonelessly in a chair, booted feet on the table. His arms dangled limply on both sides of the chair, so his fingers brushed the deck. His mouth hung loosely open and gave vent to the rumbling snore Teldin had heard. Gently, Teldin shut the door again. Let the man sleep, he thought, he needs it.

Words formed in Teldin's mind. So you rejoin the land of the wakeful.

There's one problem with mental communication, Teldin thought: you can't tell what direction it's coming from. He looked all around for Estriss.

The illithid approached from the aft end of the corridor. Do you feel better? the creature continued.

'Much better,' Teldin replied. 'I feel like I've come back to life.'

Estriss nodded. You were drained. Not simply tired, but drained. I could sense the difference.

'What does that mean?'

I believe it means that the cloak draws some of its energy from you, the illithid explained. The vast majority of enchanted items do not work in that way. They draw all of the energy they need from elsewhere, and the will of the user is just a trigger, not a power source as well.

Teldin shook his head. There was something emotionally disturbing about what Estriss was saying. 'Is it meant to do that?' he asked.

I am certain it is not, Estriss told him. Suddenly, as though realizing for the first time where they were, the illithid glanced around. Some things are best spoken of in private, he said. May we continue this in my cabin?

*****

If Aelfred's cabin was devoid of personality, the mind flayer's cabin was almost overfull. Nearly every square inch of the large cabin's bulkheads was covered with some form of artwork: paintings, tapestries, and art forms that Teldin had never seen before. For example, in pride of place on the aft wall was a large, circular ring of metal more than two feet in diameter. Crisscrossing the ring were fine wires of different colors of metal. Where the wires crossed near the middle of the ring, they twisted and knotted around each other, building up into an intricate interweaving of metal threads. The pattern seemed somehow right on the edge between chaos and order. When Teldin concentrated on the arrangement, the whole thing seemed totally random, but when he didn't concentrate, just let his mind drift and experience the design without analyzing it, he couldn't avoid the feeling that there was some organization, some higher order of pattern, to the wires… but one that was just beyond his mind's ability to perceive.

The paintings and tapestries were more familiar forms of art, but there was something unusual about them, too. In those that depicted scenery or figures, there seemed to be missing detail in certain places-surprising, since overall the works were incredibly intricate. Even the tapestries made up of abstract geometric patterns didn't look right. Otherwise regularly repeating geometric motifs seemed to be broken up here and there by featureless areas of dark red. For some reason, Teldin found those pieces mildly frustrating.

He turned to Estriss, who'd been watching his inspection with obvious interest. 'Is this illithid art?' he asked.

It is. How do you find it?

Teldin paused. He suddenly felt a little edgy. How much did he know about Estriss, after all? In the creature's hours of privacy in his cabin, the mind flayer might have been creating these paintings, these tapestries. Teldin didn't want to offend his friend. 'Very interesting,' he said enthusiastically. 'I like them.'

Do they convey emotions to you? Estriss asked. He pointed to one tapestry, an intricate tessellation of five-pointed stars, broken here and there by large regions of featureless red. This one, for example. What emotion does it portray to you?

Teldin looked closer at the tapestry. The weaving was incredibly intricate, and it was fascinating the way the stars-each subtly different in shape-interlocked so perfectly, but… 'No real emotion,' he had to admit.

Estriss looked disappointed. Truly? It is one of the most emotionally evocative works I have ever found. Estriss fixed Teldin with his white eyes. Are you sure? No sense of pride, of exultation?

'None.'