The Radiant Dragon

I'm sorry if I offend you, but this is a time for plain speaking.'

Again the half-elf turned his sad smile toward wildspace. 'If the truth must be told, I had hoped to avoid taking a stand either way.' He glanced up at Teldin. 'You were too ill to notice, but I kept to myself for the first days after the battle. It is traditional after the Change for a bionoid to spend a period of time mourning the lives he has taken. We don plain silver robes, meditate, and cleanse our souls from the stain of blood. We are a gentle people who kill efficiently but with great regret.' Hectate's face took on a faraway look. 'I had hoped to put away my silver robes.'

Teldin absorbed this, understanding the half-elf s feelings but still saddened by them. 'And that won't happen if you stay with me,' he concluded.

'Probably not,' Hectate agreed. The eyes he turned back I to Teldin held resignation and the sadness of a dream deferred. 'But you soon will get your own ship, and you will need a navigator to help you on your quest. And once you succeed?' He shrugged as if trying to make light of the matter. 'Even the Spelljammer needs to be told where to go, I imagine.'

'But if I decide to stand with the elves?' Teldin pressed.

'Then I will stand with you, Teldin Moore.' The half-elf extended his hand, offering a pact. 'You trusted me. To one of my race, that is a rare gift. In return, I'll trust your decision.'

Startled but deeply moved, Teldin took the offered hand in a firm grip, and the first genuine smile in many days brightened his face. Wanting to put the conversation on a lighter, happier footing, he switched to a topic dear to Hectate's heart: food. 'Now that the future's settled, maybe you'd care to join me for eveningfeast?' he asked. 'I hear Rozloom is galley master tonight.'

Hectate answered him with one of his rare, elfin grins. 'Just when I'd concluded that this ship had nothing to offer.'

*****

Wrapped in a magical cloak of secrecy, the invisible shrike ship darted after the star-traveling swan. The disgruntled crew mates listened sullenly to the captain's explanation of their new mission.

'Our liaison, Lord K'tide, has requested that we follow the human,' Wynlar began. 'The human may have changed ships, but that does not alter our orders. Drakkar or swan ship, it matters not. K'tide is depending on us to report the human's movements, as the informant's messages have not proven sufficient.'

'What does baby-sitting an elven ship have to do with the Armistice mission?' demanded Tekura. The silver- haired technician flipped an exasperated gesture toward the white, tufted tail of the swan ship. 'We should be outfitting the orcs, not trailing some human. The swan ship is heading toward Toril, and each wasted day takes us farther from our goal.'

'And what have we to show for this little detour?' the wizard Zeddop whined. 'Obscure messages about a broken sphere and a cloak that changes color. Bah!'

The captain's angular, elflike face betrayed his discomfort. 'I do not know all that K'tide has in mind. He said only that the cloak is important, not to our current alliance with the orcs, but to some later strike against the elves. K'tide promised to say more when the time is right.'

'And you accepted that?' Zeddop sniffed, and his thin lips twisted with scorn. 'You always were a bit too credulous, little brother.'

Wynlar turned to glare at the wizard. 'What would you have me do? K'tide is a necessary intermediary. Would you rather deal directly with the scro?'

His challenge was met with silence, and after a moment he sighed deeply. 'I know that this new development is difficult, but we have given pledge loyalty to K'tide, and we are honor-bound to carry out his plans.'

'Whatever they may be,' Zeddop murmured in the manner of one who must get in the last word.

Tekura came to stand at Wynlar's side. She gave her foster-father's arm a reassuring squeeze. 'We know that K'tide desires the destruction of the elves. As long as we are working to that end, we can do whatever is required.'

Chapter Seven

The mess was crowded when Teldin and Hectate arrived. Rozloom strode in from the galley, bearing an enormous platter heaped with shiny, cone-shaped loaves of bread, which he set down on the serving table with a flourish.

Hectate's eyes lit up at the sight, of the confection, and he hastened to pile several of the small loaves onto his tray. Given the half-elf s appetite, that did not strike Teldin as unusual until he noted the usually spartan elves flocking to the table to do likewise. He himself did not particularly care for sweets, but he took one on the chance that he might otherwise be missing something.

The elven crew seemed unusually expansive that evening, and, as Teldin followed Hectate to a corner table, he fielded a number of questions and accepted numerous good wishes on his recovery. By the time Teldin and Hectate had settled down with their dinner trays, Teldin had made two unsettling observations: the elves treated him with considerable respect, but they virtually ignored the half-elf. Teldin was acquainted with the Imperial Fleet's high-handed ways, but nothing prepared him for this utter dismissal of Hectate Kir.

The half-elf did not seem to notice anything amiss. He broke one of the loaves apart and inhaled the fragrant steam with deep satisfaction. 'Quinpah,' he breathed in a reverent tone. 'I haven't seen any in years. It's a traditional elven bread, but it varies from one world to another. This one is very like what I remember from my childhood.'

'Really. I wonder how Rozloom got the recipe for something like that,' Teldin said absently. He broke off a piece and popped it into his mouth, and his eyes widened in surprise. The outside of the bread was crisp and sticky with a honey glaze, but the middle was a soft, airy delight that dissolved in his mouth into a foaming mist.

'How do the aperusa acquire anything?' Hectate observed without malice.

Teldin grinned. During the few days Rozloom had been aboard the Valkyrie, a number of 'lost' items had been discovered in his possession. The gypsy's explanations were always so entertaining that none of his victims could hold their ire for long. Only Rozloom's offbeat charm-and remarkable culinary prowess-kept the exasperated crew from loading him into the drakkar's catapult and letting fly.

After several days of eating nothing but broth and thin porridge, Teldin was ravenous. He devoured the quinpah and thought he might like another, but aside from Hectate's private hoard, the sweet bread already had disappeared. As he ate the rest of his dinner, Teldin pondered the elves' strange coldness to Hectate Kir. The only reasonable conclusion Teldin could come up with was that somehow the crew must have found out about Hectate's bionoid persona. When Teldin suggested this possibility, Hectate's well-laden spoon froze halfway up to his mouth.

'What makes you think so?' Hectate asked, cautiously lowering the spoon back to his bowl.

As tactfully as he could, Teldin commented on the elves' decided lack of friendliness. To his surprise, Hectate burst out laughing, drawing brief, chilly stares from the other diners. 'What's so funny?' Teldin groused.

Still chuckling, the half-elf shook his head. 'I'm sorry, sir, but I'd forgotten that some people really don't care what I am.' He seemed on the verge of saying more, then his eyes fell on the last loaf of quinpah on his tray. In a gesture more eloquent than words, the half-elf picked up the treat and broke it in two, handing the larger piece to Teldin.

Teldin didn't need his newly acquired perceptivity to recognize the offering as much more than elven bread. He accepted the gift and nodded his thanks, and human and half-elf munched in companionable silence.

They were licking the last sticky drops from their fingers when the chiming of bells signaled the beginning of the third watch. 'If you'll excuse me, sir, I've got duties,' Hectate said as he rose from the table.

'Good,' Teldin said. He gathered up his tray and prepared to follow the half-elf. 'Do you think anyone would mind if I came to the bridge with you? I'd like to see some star charts and get a fix on where we are.'

The half-elf hesitated. 'My duties aboard this ship don't include navigation, sir.'

'Oh?'

'Hectate, come!' boomed a familiar bass voice from the galley. 'Always there is a price to pay for pleasure, is that not so?'