The Maelstrom Eye

'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-kon 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.'

'We're grateful to you,' Aelfred called back from the forecastle railing. 'I'm Aelfred Silverhorn, the captain of this ship. I'm honored to meet you.'

'And I, you,' Cirathorn returned. 'The loading should take less than an hour. I ask that you and your first mate join me for a moment.'

Aelfred turned and looked at Teldin, shrugging. 'I assume that's if you don't mind,' he said.

'I trust you more than I do anyone else,' Teldin replied. 'It's your ship, and you may as well hear what I hear.'

They rode to the ground in one of the ship's boats, where they had the helmsman of the tiny craft wait for them. Cirathorn greeted them with a smile that looked remarkably bloodless in the intense blue-white lights spilling from beyond the hangar door. His eyes were narrowed against the light, but they were friendly enough anyway.

'I hate to be nosy,' Aelfred said after they greeted each other, 'but how did you manage to get the Rock to let you store Imperial Fleet goods here?

'The prince of this world and city was kind enough to allow the Imperial Fleet to lease a portion of this naval base,' Cirathorn said. 'We may store supplies, berth our lesser ships, and maintain contact with the numerous elven colonies in this sphere. In return, Prince Andru and his government benefit from our strength. Our presence brings additional trade from elves who would rather land where the fleet lands as well. If there is cause to defend this port, we aid in that defense, though we have little here on the Rock with which to fight. As the prince would say, it's the thought that counts.'

'A nice arrangement,' agreed Aelfred, 'though I've heard a few stories about the prince that weren't too complimentary. Wasn't he involved in some way with his brother's-'

'The wise do not question their allies too deeply,' interrupted Cirathorn, as if he were discussing the weather. 'None of us is as others see us, and every field bears the seeds of disappointment. Prince Andru is our ally, and a good one he has been-but we have digressed from my reasons for meeting you here.'

The admiral untied a leather tube from his belt and passed it to Teldin. 'I believe you may find these notes of some help, limited though such may be. They are written in the common tongue of Ansalon, for your ease. This is the sum of our lore about your goal. You will find this material contradictory at best, as most of it consists of second-hand tales told around a tavern fire by those who would know the least about their subject. Nonetheless, you may find a reference or two of use.'

Teldin uncapped the tube and noted that it contained many sheets of rolled papers. He recapped the tube and held it rightly rather than tying it to his own belt.

'I don't know how to thank you,' Teldin said, looking with relief at the elfs angular face. 'I'm afraid I didn't know whether to trust you or not. I've had a difficult time since I picked up this cloak. It's never gotten better.'

'Until now, I would hope,' Cirathom said. A smile brightened his pale features. He extended his right hand. Surprised, Teldin took it and gave a cautious but firm handshake. Cirathorn shook Aelfred's hand as well, then stepped back. 'I am needed at a long dinner honoring Prince Andru,' he said. 'I am fashionably late as it is, but it would be best not to keep everyone waiting past the appetizers. Thank you again for honoring us with your presence, Teldin Moore. May the gods watch over your journey.'

The two men bid the elf good-bye, then headed back for their boat. They had lifted away for their ship when the admiral reached the hangar doors. The elf turned to look back in silence, noting the billowing of the now maroon-red cloak. He walked on again only after the hammership had been loaded and had begun its slow glide back over the landing field, and the red cloak could no longer be seen.

Cirathorn's walk took him to an unlit supervisor's room. He closed the door behind him, paused in the darkness for a moment, then walked over to a writing desk and opened the lowest drawer on the right. From inside it he pulled out a key. Reaching up, he let his fingers pass along the wall until he found a nail stuck there, then moved up three hand widths from the nail to find a nearly invisible slot in the wall. He inserted the key in this and twisted.

A panel slid soundlessly aside in the wall to reveal a closet-sized room with a faintly glowing circle of amber on the floor. The admiral returned the key, then entered, closing the door behind him, and stepped into the center of the circle with the clinking of mailed boots against the stone floor.

'The embassy,' he said, and vanished into thin air.

Moments later, he stopped in the doorway of his office below the embassy structure. A row of elven faces turned. His staff and officers came to their feet.

'It has been ages,' he said, 'since we last hunted together. Now is the time. Let us hunt.'

*****

The Rock of Bral became a giant potato again, covered with miniature streets and houses. Sunlight glinted from green copper spires and painted rooftops, all slowly receding from the Probe's bow. Gullions slowly whirled and spun over the city, becoming flecks of white against the endless starry night beyond. The potato shrank into the endless night until it was just a bright star, then shrank again until it was lost against the reaches of space.

'Learn anything from those papers the admiral gave you?' Aelfred asked at the end of the first day out, in the privacy of the officer's saloon. The captain was pleased to see that Teldin had taken only a small mug of ale; whatever had bugged him earlier no doubt had passed. It was probably Julia's leaving.

Teldin stared thoughtfully at his mug. He'd had a devil of a time with the scrolls; the writing in many places was beyond his abilities to read, and he was too proud to ask for help. Still, he had gotten the basic idea. Dyffed, the self-proclaimed expert on the Spelljammer, had added a few thoughts of his own, but surprisingly little more of use than the papers had given him. The gnome had collected only trivia on the Spelljammer, not useful facts.

'The elves wrote down everything they'd ever heard concerning the Spelljammer- rumors, tales, lies, everything,' Teldin said. 'None of it fits together or makes sense. People say the Spelljammer has been blown to pieces, smashed into asteroids, driven into suns, and exploded in the phlogiston, but it still reappears, looking like new. It's been commanded by elves, men, goblins, and creatures called orcs, which I assume are like the hobgoblins and goblins we have on Krynn. It's been overrun with mind flayers, undead wizards, and priests, and those things like, urn, Graffin the Gray, I think you called him-'

'Beholders,' said Aelfred. His smile vanished.

'Beholders.' Teldin nodded. 'And a few other things that I've never heard of.' He hesitated, then reached down and unstrapped the leather tube from his belt and handed it to Aelfred. 'You may as well see for yourself. You're just about the last person left alive that I trust, and it's your ship.'

Aelfred took the scroll case with a look of surprise, but handed it back. 'I'll pass. I have more than enough to read, and you're in this up to your neck. It's better that you keep your eyes on this while I run the ship. What else?'

Teldin took a swallow of his drink first. He'd hoped that Aelfred, who was better at reading, could have told him more. 'Lots of other things. Dyffed knew something about it, too. The Spelljammer looks like a gigantic manta ray with a city on its back. It moves faster than any ship that size should. It goes wherever it