The Broken Sphere

matter if it rips my throat open?

He had plenty of time to estimate the spider's path, and almost an eternity to bring the blade up to block it. He saw the spider slam-still in slow-motion-into the edge of the short sword, and saw one of its fangs snapped off by the impact. But he also saw the incredible ferocity with which the clawed legs scrabbled at the sword blade in the instant they were in contact.

Then the momentum of his parry carried the sword around and knocked the spider off into another shadowed corner. This time, though, he found he could see into those shadows as if the starlight had somehow been intensified tenfold.

One of these times it'll get me. The thought struck with chilling clarity.

Without even being aware that he'd made a decision, he felt his right arm flip the sword up into the air. He watched it trace a lazy arc as it rotated end over end. Almost casually, he grabbed it by the blade a third of the way down from the point, with plenty of time to make sure he didn't slash his palm on the edge. He drew the weapon back to his ear as if for a knife throw, and snapped his forearm forward hard.

The blade flashed in the starlight as it whirled through the air. It struck true, driving point first into the scrabbling black-glass spider.

With a sound that was a hideous cross between the shattering of crystal and an inhuman shriek, the thing exploded into fragments.

As though that sound had been a signal, time returned to normal. Now, the fear that the cloak had partially held at bay came crashing back in, knotting his stomach with nausea.

And with the fear came other emotions: horror, sadness, revulsion… and, most of all, guilt.

He flung himself back to the deck beside Julia and cradled her head again. Sobs tore at his throat. Tears blinded him. Oh, by the gods, no… 'What were you doing here?' he railed-at her, at the gods, at his destiny. 'What were you doing here?'

He felt her stir weakly in his arms. Her eyelids flickered open. But now, he knew-somehow he knew-her eyes were sightless. 'Teldin?' she whispered.

'I'm here.'

'Did I kill it?' When he didn't answer, 'Did I kill it?' she repeated. 'I don't remember.'

He closed his eyes and lowered his head until his forehead rested against her cheek. 'Yes.' He struggled to force the words out. 'Yes, Julia, you killed it.'

'Then you're all right?'

'Yes.' He thought his heart were bursting-wished it would burst. 'I'm all right.'

'I think it stung me, Teldin.' Her voice was growing weaker. 'I don't remember.'

The Cloakmaster wanted to scream for help, call for a healer, run for help, but he couldn't. He was rooted to this spot. Julia was dying, he knew that, fading rapidly. There wasn't anything a healer could do for her now. He knew that, too. And he couldn't-couldn't-leave her, turn aside from her, in the moments she had left.

'I heard them talking, Teldin.' He leaned forward, put his ear right to her lips. 'I heard them talking about killing the captain.'

'Who?' he whispered.

'I heard them,' she repeated. 'They said they were using an obsidian spider. I came to warn you.' Her voice was little more than the faintest of breaths now. He had to fill in the syllables he couldn't hear.

''I came here,' she went on. 'But the spider was already here, I saw it. And you sleeping… I couldn't wake you. You might make noise, trigger the spider's attack. I had to kill it.

'And I did.' Her hand, which was gripping the haft of the crossbow bolt, trembled, the fingers seeming to search for something. Teldin took the hand-it was chill to the touch, already-and squeezed. He tried to pour his emotions through the physical contact, to tell her that way what he couldn't with words.

Her pale lips twitched into a faint smile. She knows, he told himself. Oh, thank the gods, she knows. Desperately he tried to force himself to believe it.

Julia's eyes flickered again and sought his face. He felt the faintest pressure of her fingers. 'Teldin, I…' The last syllable became an extended exhalation of air as her lungs emptied. He waited for the inhalation, though he knew it would never come.

He let the sobs come, now, the great, racking sobs that he'd been suppressing. They shook his frame, seemed about to break his ribs to fragments. He rocked forward, cradling the slight woman in his arms, his tears washing over her peaceful face.

Chapter Twelve

'This is how it got in,' Djan said quietly.

Dully, Teldin looked up.

The half-elf was standing by the starboard 'eye' porthole. With a fingertip, he traced a smooth-edged hole, not much bigger than a man's clenched fist, that had been cut in the glass crystal. Then he crossed to the corner where the short sword was driven into the decking, surrounded by the spider's fragments. He stirred the shards with a booted toe. 'A highly sophisticated magical construct,' he mused. 'We're dealing with a high level of magical power here.'

The Cloakmaster turned away again. What did it matter? What did anything matter? He looked down again at the still body of Julia at his feet and knelt beside her again. Djan had arranged the corpse, crossing her hands on her chest, then covering her with a blanket from Teldin's bunk. For that he was glad. He knew all too well that if he looked at Julia's peaceful, pale face again, he'd lose control.

I killed her.

His thoughts kept turning back to that hideous, unescapable fact.

I killed her, when she was here to save my life. I distrusted her; I mentally accused and convicted her of treachery. And then I killed her. He swallowed a sob, fearing that if he let his control slip again, he'd never get it back.

Djan came toward him and squatted down beside him.

You didn't do this, Teldin,' he said, his voice quiet and intense, as though he were responding to the Cloakmaster's churning thoughts. 'They did it.'

Teldin looked up at his friend. He felt the unshed tears burning what he knew were haunted-looking eyes. 'I was the one who pulled the trigger,' he croaked.

'What else were you supposed to do-supposed to think-when you saw what you did?' The half-elf shook his head impatiently. 'You didn't kill her. Do you blame a sword when it kills? No, you blame the person wielding the sword.

'You're the sword, Teldin,' he pressed on. 'That's the way it worked out. You may have struck the blow, but the responsibility lies with those who set things up so that you had to.'

Teldin shook his head. The half-elf s words were persuasive, but he knew he wouldn't be able to absolve himself of responsibility that easily. At best, he shared responsibility with the saboteurs, the poisoners, the people who'd tried to kill him with the magical spider. But, still, it had been he who'd pulled the trigger. He remembered the small crossbow bucking in his hand, the bowstring singing its lethal song. He shuddered and closed his eyes.

He felt a grip on his arm-tight enough to be painful. He opened his eyes again and looked into Djan's face. He saw a new emotion there-anger.

'No,' Djan snapped. 'What's done is done-a tragedy, a terrible tragedy-but it's done, by the mind of Marrak! You can choose to accept that and work to find out who's behind all of this, or you can choose to turn in on yourself, spend all your energy on punishing yourself.'

'Maybe I deserve punishment,' Teldin mumbled.

'Maybe you do,' the half-elf echoed, 'but leave that to the gods. That's what they're for. Will torturing yourself solve anything? Will it tell you the names of the killers? Will it bring Julia back from the dead?'