The Broken Sphere

'Can you?' Teldin shot back.

Of course. Sensitivity to paramagnetism is one of the basic senses among intelligent life, is it not? It paused again. Or perhaps your understanding of it is different from ours. Perhaps this would explain the sense we refer to.

Suddenly, without warning, Teldin felt as if he'd sprouted a new eye, one that could see things invisible to normal senses. He could see-that wasn't quite the right word, but it was the closest he could find-a field of some kind surrounding the planet of Garrash, whirling up from the planet's poles and looping around its equator, like some strange and exotic skein of wool. Burning in colors for which he had no name, spiderweb-thin lines of force wove in intricate patterns around the fire ring, spiraling through it. The strange colors were more intense near the center of the planet-which he realized his new sense could see right through-and in the heart of the fire ring. And everywhere he could see slight variations in the lines of force, bulges and twists-eddies.

I've seen this before, he told himself, or something very much like it. It had been during one of the times the amulet had linked him with the Spelljammer, when he was experiencing the universe through its mysterious senses.

Then the new sense-the vision-yet-not-vision-was gone, leaving him feeling momentarily bereft, blinded.

That is the sense of which I speak, Zat explained.

'We don't share that sense,' Teldin said. 'Is there any other way to tell me the way?'

Zat was silent for a long time, then, No, it said firmly. There is no other certain way of describing the direction to the One Egg. Vision is such an imprecise sense, and most others are worse. Only the ability to sense the gradient will serve.

Teldin felt as if he were clutching at straws. 'Will you come with us, then?' he asked desperately. 'Will you be our guide?'

And leave the space of Garrash? The question was tinged with incredulity.

'You said you were going to follow the Spelljammer-the Wandering One-anyway,' the Cloakmaster pointed out hurriedly.

But not far from the space of Garrasb, Zat pronounced definitely. Certainly not beyond this crystal sphere. I and those of my kind cannot travel in the spaces beyond a sphere boundary.

Teldin slumped over the rail as despair washed over him. So near, and yet so far. He'd finally found someone-or something-that could direct him to the Cosmic Egg and, ultimately, the Spelljammer itself, but the directions were useless.

He felt Djan's hand on his shoulder and his friend's concern. He turned to the half-elf. 'It's like it's given me a map to the Broken Sphere,' he told his friend dully, 'but I can't read it.'

Chapter Eleven

Teldin stared disconsolately out the 'eye' porthole of his cabin. Below the ship he could see several of the massive metallic creatures cruising slowly into and out of the liquid fire of Garrash's ring. Behind him, at the table, Djan toyed idly with the bronze amulet.

Immediately after the conversation with Zat, Teldin and the half-elf had gone belowdecks, and his friend had watched while the Cloakmaster had made contact again with the Spelljammer. This time the great craft was definitely somewhere in the Flow. Before it, deep in the churning colors of the phlogiston, were half a dozen crystal spheres packed closely together, looking for all the world like a cluster of great pearls.

It's the same place I saw through the amulet when I was approaching Crescent, Teldin recalled, or somewhere very much like it. The Spelljammer was heading back to the shards of the Broken Sphere, as Zat had told him. And where was that? 'Between the pearl clusters,' as Message Bearer of the People had told him. Somewhere where the secondary eddies in the paramagnetic gradient increased in amplitude, according to Zat. Two descriptions, detailed enough in their way…

But both useless. Nobody aboard the Boundless knew of a place in the Flow where the crystal spheres were this tightly packed, and the charts gave no hint of it. And Teldin couldn't sense the paramagnetic gradient as Zat and its kind could do, and certainly knew of no other way of measuring it… largely because he didn't know what in all the hells it was. How can information be so uninformative? he asked himself bitterly.

'Where do we go now?' he asked softly. The creatures playing in the fire ring, predictably, gave no answer.

'Where?' He turned to Djan, repeating his rhetorical question.

The half-elf shrugged, setting the amulet down on the able before him. 'I don't know, Teldin,' he said candidly. 'Somebody must know about the 'pearl clusters.' I'd wager hat some spelljammer captain has seen them sometime, tows where they are. Maybe the best bet is to head for one of the major centers of spelljamming trade-Radole, maybe, or Garden-and ask around.' He shrugged again. 'I know it's not much, but it's all I can think of at the moment.'

Teldin nodded and gave his friend a tired smile. 'Thanks,' he said simply.

'Just think on it,' Djan suggested. 'And maybe try this again when you're feeling up to it.' He tossed the amulet to the Cloakmaster, then he stood and walked toward the door. 'Plus,' he added over his shoulder, 'I think you should get some rest.'

As the first mate reached for the door latch, a diffident knock sounded. He quirked an eyebrow at Teldin-'Expecting company?'-and opened the door. The half-orc, Dargeth, was framed in the doorway. He tugged his forelock. 'Sir, Captain.' He shifted from foot to foot in discomfort. 'Captain, do you have a moment, sir?' Teldin sighed. He didn't want to take a moment for dealing with ship's business, not right now, but duty does bind both ways, he reminded himself again. 'Of course. Come on in, Dargeth. Have a seat. Is it all right if the first mate hears this, or is it personal?'

Dargeth ducked to avoid cracking his head on the overhead and crossed to the table. 'No, sirs, it's not personal. It's…' He glanced at the open door behind him.

Taking the cue, Djan shut the door.

'Have a seat,' Teldin repeated. To make the sailor more comfortable-obviously he didn't like the idea of sitting while his captain stood-he pulled a chair out for himself. 'Now, Dargeth,' he prompted, 'what is it?'

Dargeth seated himself, hands in his lap, wringing them together uncomfortably. He glanced back and forth between his captain and the first mate.

'It's all right, Dargeth,' Teldin told him, trying to inject as much reassurance as he could into his voice. 'Whatever it is, it's all right.'

The half-ore bobbed his head. 'As you say, sir,' he said tentatively, though he obviously didn't believe it.

'I've been thinking, Captain,' Dargeth started slowly, his voice pitched little above a whisper. 'About Blossom… about the helm-priest's death.'

Teldin shot a quick glance at Djan, but tried to keep his face expressionless. 'What about her death?' he asked, as lightly as he could.

'I've been thinking it's not an accident, Captain. Sorry to say it, but it's true. I think… I think she was killed.'

The Cloakmaster sighed. Well, it had only been a matter of time, hadn't it? He had to admit he didn't have much respect for the half-orc's intellect, so if Dargeth was entertaining suspicions, what about the rest of the crew? 'Why do you think that?' he asked coolly.

Dargeth shifted in his chair uncomfortably. 'Lots of things, really, Captain,' he mumbled. 'I'm sorry, but…'

'No,' Djan broke in, 'no apologies. You've figured something out, or think you have. If you're correct, you did the right thing in coming to talk to us about it. If you're wrong, you still did the right thing. I've always told the entire crew I want them to use their heads, to think for themselves, haven't I?' The half-ore nodded. 'You can be sure you're not going to get in trouble for doing what I told you to do,' the first mate concluded. 'Tell on.'

The sailor looked immeasurably less uncomfortable, and Teldin again found himself respecting his friend's