Nigel Findley - The Cloakmaster Cycle 02 - Into the Void

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Into the Void
World - Spelljammer, Cloackmaster Cycle, Book 2
Nigel Findley
About The Author
Nigel Findley was born in Venezuela and grew up in Spain, France, England, Nigeria, and other
foreign countries. After years of working as a senior marketing executive, he eventually settled in
Vancouver, Canada, and became a full-time freelance writer. He has published game material for TSR,
contributes regularly to various business and high-tech magazines, and writes screenplays.Into the Void is
his first novel.
Scanned, formatted and proofed by Dreamcity
Lit’ified by Whild
Ebook version 1.0
Release Date: July, 07, 2004
Chapter One
It was night, but a night such as Teldin Moore had never seen before. The sky was darker, a deep
velvet blackness, and the stars brighter, more immediate, somehow closer. If he could just climb the
gnomish ship's watchtower, Teldin found himself thinking, climb up to where the lookout crouched on his
small platform... He might be able to touch a star, pluck it from the sky, and hold it like a gem, glittering
coldly in his hand. He settled his slender, lanky frame more securely against the ship's starboard rail and
leaned back farther to gaze directly upward. He brushed a lock of hair from his eyes.
Teldin was a man of thirty-two summers, a little under six feet tall with a light build. His features
were finely chiseled— handsome, he'd been told many times, but in a comfortable way, attractive rather
than beautiful. His smile was warm and winning, and women were attracted by the way it made his striking,
cornflower-blue eyes sparkle. His sandy hair had a strong natural curl to it, making it difficult to control
unless he kept it cropped fairly close to his head. Although slender-waisted, he had shoulders that were
quite broad and slim arms that were surprisingly strong, though they didn't show large muscles.
The deck of the vessel shifted beneath his feet,strangely, not like the small river-going boats with
which Teldin was familiar. It surged upward, like a thing alive, and Teldin tightened his grip on the rail.
Steeling himself for the vertigo he feared—but which, surprisingly, had yet to come—he turned, looking
over the rail, and down.
Below was land, not a river or an ocean,land that spread from horizon to horizon in the light of two
of Krynn's three moons, looking like a tapestry of the most intricate detail. The gnomish vessel had been
climbing steadily since it had pulled away from Mount Nevermind, and already Teldin was as far above the
land below as the highest mountain peak. His home—the only environment he'd ever known, or ever
dreamed of knowing—was two leagues and more beneath him and receding with each passing moment.
Sadness pierced him, a mourning for what he'd lost, what he was forsaking, perhaps forever. For a
moment, he tried to pick out the familiar landmarks that had demarcated his life: the fields, the granaries, the
market towns, the rivers, and the hills where tough, hardy sheep grazed, oblivious to the vessel that climbed
into the sky above their heads—as oblivious as he had been, short weeks before. Part of him wanted to
cling for as long as possible to the familiar, the safe.
But what he saw wasn't safe, he remembered with a pang. Death was below him, death that had
come from the same sky that now beckoned him. He wanted to weep like a child for those he knew who
had died: friends from his home; the tinker gnomes who had helped him when no one else would; and, most
of all, Gomja—that sometimes-buffoonish, sometimes-noble creature who had sacrificed himself so that
Teldin could live. At least the giff had met his end in the way he'd always desired, in battle after defeating
overwhelming odds. As the barrel-chested creature had wished, his death hadmeant something, and in
those last moments he'd known it. Would Teldin be able to say the same when his own time came? It was a
thought that had never troubled him before. What did "dying well" matter to a farm boy?
That's all Teldin was and, until recently, all he'd really thought of being. His home had always been
his land and, since his war years, he'd never wanted more. The world was large, as his grandfather had
always told him, but he had little desire to see any more of it than the breadth of his family's farmlands. The
thought that there wereother worlds, other lands beyond the moons, had never occurred to him until the
strange ship had crashed from the sky and shaken Teldin from his comfortable life.
The rigging overhead complained quietly as a gust of night-wind rocked the ship. To stave off its
chill, he pulled tighter about him the cloak he'd been given by the grievously wounded stranger—that
sky-traveler, thatspelljammer. Hers had been the first death—a peaceful one, as such things go, as she'd
faded quietly away despite everything Teldin had tried to do to prevent it, lying there in the mangled
wreckage of her ship and Teldin's home. That death wasn't the last.
The spidership had come, a huge black shape sinking silently out of the nighttime sky. Thehorrors,
too, had come. The smaller ones—half spider, half eel—and the larger, with their rending claws and
clashing mandibles. Others had died, and their deaths had been far from peaceful.
With an effort of will, Teldin wrenched his gaze from the ground, and turned it back to the sky
above.That was where his life was now—where it had to be—away from the land that had given him birth
and sheltered him for thirty years. His life would be among the stars. He shivered, but not from the cold.
Perhaps seeking some kind of reassurance, he ran his hand over the coarse fabric of the cloak, no different
in texture from any other traveling cloak, but somehow slightly colder than fabric had any right to be. It was
a strange gift from one who knew she was dying, but an important one, if the traveler's rambling was to be
believed. Teldin remembered for the hundredth—thousandth?—time the dying traveler's cryptic last words:
"Take the cloak. Keep it from the neogi. Take it to the creators." The words still seemed as meaningless to
him as when he'd first heard them. He shrugged, relegating the words to the back of his mind. His life up
until now had been notably free of mysteries. He'd have to learn how to handle such things.
The vessel heeled slightly as the wind blew across its beam. A chill breeze caressed Teldin's face.
He drew a deep breath in through his nose, hoping to catch for one final time the familiar scents of
home—mown grass, blossoms, and the rich smell of good brown earth, but he was too high. The winds here
were clean and crisp—sterile, one part of his brain told him, empty of life; fresh, another part countered,
new and full of promise.
He looked down once more and gasped aloud with wonder. The view below had changed from a
flat tapestry to something he could hardly have described, even to himself. The land curved away to the left
and to the right in huge sweeping arcs. The table-flat land that his emotions had found so familiar had
become a sphere. He knew from some schooling that the world was round, but to know it and to actually
see it were two very different things. The sphere that was Krynn appeared to him in all its glory.
The sky above—and below?—was clear, but in the distance he could see moonlight-washed banks
of clouds, spread out like a ghostly landscape of the dead. He could no longer make out any landmarks, but
over there... that must be the great ocean. He searched his brain vainly for the name. A huge weather
system, a spiral, was motionless when viewed from this height, but the shapes of the tortured clouds still
seemed to imply violent action.
He turned to his right, to the aft of the vessel. There the distant limb of the planet seemed afire,
burning gold. Then, in a silent concussion of light, the arc of the sun appeared above the edge of the world.
Teldin turned away, wiping streaming eyes. For the first time he noticed the small figure standing at
the rail next to him. The figure's head, topped by a mass of gray braids, barely came up to his waist.
The gnome grinned up at him, teeth flashing white in the dark, wind-tanned face. "Impressive,
wouldn't you say?" he asked. "Sunrise from space—one of the great gifts the universe gives to us. It's still a
wonder to me, even after all these years."
Teldin wrestled with his memory, seeking the gnome's name, and was impressed with the small
man's courtesy in speaking slowly. "Yes," he said wanly, "impressive." He sighed and admitted defeat. "You
are... Wysdor?"
The gnome chuckled. "Captain Wysdor is my brother. You may call me Horvath. I am
He-Who-Is-Fully-Responsible-For-And-Depended-On-With-Regard-To-Location-And-Distance..." With a
visible effort, the little fellow stemmed the sudden and rapidly accelerating flow of words. He took a breath
to settle himself. When he spoke again, it was in the same relatively slow cadence with which he'd first
addressed Teldin. "You may call me the navigator, if the oversimplification doesn't worry you."
Teldin suppressed a grin. In his dealings with gnomes so far, it was theirlack of simplification, the
insistence on absolute precision at the expense of efficiency, that had worried him. "Then we haven't met?"
he concluded.
Horvath shook his head. "No, Teldin Moore of Kalaman, we haven't." He grinned. "I can't explain
it, you know. Gnomes are no more alike than... than star apples and pomegranates. You big folk only see
the superficialities." He reached up to pat Teldin on the upper arm. "And that's why you're lucky to have us
gnomes around, aren't you? To tell you what it is you're really looking at." The gnome's smile faded. "Tell
me," he said after a moment. "I don't know all the details of what brought you to us, but stories spread on
board ships. In fact, ships are the best places for stories. I heard you had some... troubles? Neogi, I hear
tell, even before they attacked Mount Nevermind. Now, what I'm wondering is, why? No offense intended,
of course—far be it from me to insult a man's homeland—but surely the neogi can find better places to
come slave-hunting than this dust ball. Why were they interested in you?"
Teldin hesitated. He knew the answer to the gnome's question all too well, but should he tell
Horvath? There might be some value in secrecy, after all.
He thought it through. The higher-ranking gnomes, specifically the three admirals aboard ship, knew
what had brought him to Mount Nevermind, but Horvath seemed more experienced at space travel and
probably would learn the truth from his own sources. Furthermore, Teldin realized he owed some kind of
moral debt to these gnomes. He was certain that the neogi would come after him... which meant they'd be
coming after the gnomes. What would be his ethical position if he withheldanything that could help the
gnomes make it through alive?
"They'renot interested in me," he answered, "not as me, if that makes any sense. They're after my
cloak."
He saw understanding dawn in the gnome's eyes. "Ah, the cloak," Horvath breathed. "I've heard
about it, of course, the Cloak-That-Adapts-In-Size-And-Will-Not-Be-Sundered-From-Its-Wearer." He
reached tentatively toward the cloak. "May I?"
Teldin paused a moment, then nodded. The diminutive figure took a corner of the cloak and rubbed
the fabric between his fingers. He turned it over and looked at the delicately patterned silk lining. Holding
the fabric in two hands, he tugged on it, testing the strength of the weave. Raising it to his bulbous nose, he
sniffed at it audibly. It was only when he opened his mouth, apparently preparing to taste the fabric, that
Teldin snatched it back from him.
If Horvath was disappointed over being unable to complete his investigation, he didn't show it.
"Hmm," he snorted. "Neogi. They're crazier than an owl at noon, that's for sure, but they don't doanything
that doesn't suit their purposes-whatever those purposes are. When they want something, they go after it,
come doom or destruction. And they wanted that cloak, but I wonder why?"
That, of course, was the key question that had been gnawing at Teldin's peace of mind virtually
since the outset. "I don't know," he said honestly.
The gnome shrugged. "Well," he said thoughtfully, "I suppose we could ask the neogi...." He must
have sensed Teldin's horror, because he quickly continued, "Presuming we ever see them again." He patted
Teldin on the arm. "Don't worry about it now. Neogi aren't common in Krynnspace. I should know, because
a few friends and I ran into—"
"Krynnspace?" Teldin interrupted.
The gnome casually changed the subject as he gestured around him, taking in the planet below and
the stars above. "Krynnspace. All of this, everything inside this crystal sphere."
"Crystal... ?"
Horvath sighed. "Dirtkickers," he said resignedly. "Whatdo they teach you in school?" He raised a
bushy eyebrow ironically. "Youdid go to school, didn't you?"
For a moment, Teldin was taken aback, then he saw the gnome's barely concealed smile. He
grinned in return. "Of course," he shot back. "The school of the land."
"Ah, that one," Horvath said with a chuckle. "I never graduated from that one, myself. No desire.
The universe is a much bigger school. Of course, I haven't graduated from that one either, not yet, as if I
ever will."
He smacked his lips and grinned up at Teldin. "It's time for a cup. Traveling always gives me a
thirst and natural history always goes better over a draft of ale, wouldn't you say?"
Teldin followed the diminutive figure down a companion-way that led below the ship's main deck.
They navigated a narrow corridor—"Watch the overhead, it's low," warned Horvath, a trifle too late—and
entered a small room laid out like a cozy tavern. There were two oaken tables surrounded by stools—all
built to gnomish proportions, of course—and a low bar at the far end. A brass oil lamp swung on slender
chains from the wooden beams overhead, and a small window—a porthole, Teldin supposed—gave a view
of the outside. Teldin looked around him, bemused. Apart from the scale of the furniture and the view
outside, the room could well have been the "snug," or back room, in any one of the taverns he had known at
home.
Horvath must have noticed Teldin's expression, because he said with a smile, "Just because we
travel doesn't mean we have to leave behind all the comforts of home." He walked around the bar and
rapped on the end of a small barrel that was set into the wall. His grin broadened at the solid sound it made.
"If there's one thing you dirtkickers do well, it's make ale." He retrieved two pewter mugs from a shelf
overhead and manipulated the tap on the end of the barrel.
Returning around the bar, he thrust a mug into Teldin's hand and settled himself comfortably on a
stool. "Take a seat. School is now in session."
Teldin hesitated, then sat on the end of the table next to the gnome. He took a draft of the
nut-brown ale, savoring its richness. "Crystal spheres," he prompted.
"I know where I was," Horvath told him, a little aggrieved. "I'm just trying to say it simply without
eliminating everything of importance."
The gnome took another swallow of his ale and gave a satisfied sigh. "You can think of crystal
spheres like bubbles—or, better, like those glass floats fishermen use to support their nets. These spheres of
wildspace float in the phlogiston, what we call the flow, or the Rainbow Ocean." He held up a hand to still
Teldin's incipient question. "Give me a minute. I'll tell you about the flow in good time. So, the crystal
spheres are like glass floats. Each one contains a world, often more than one world, and everything in its
solar system. Take Krynn-space: It contains Krynn itself, its primary—you call it the sun, but then everyone
calls their primary 'the sun'—and all the other planets, Sirion, Reorx, Chislev, and Zivilyn. Other spheres
contain other solar systems. Greyspace, nowthere's a weird one: a flat world, duster-worlds, and the sun
revolving around the main planet, Oerth, rather than vice versa." Horvath shot a quick glance at Teldin.
"You do know Krynn orbits your sun, don't you?"
Teldin snorted his derision. "What about the stars?" he asked.
"It varies from sphere to sphere. Here they're fixed to the inside of the crystal shell itself, huge,
multifaceted gems—big as this ship, or bigger—and they glow like... well, like nothing you've ever seen.
But they don't give off heat. In other places—"
Teldin cut him off. "So you can touch the stars?"
Horvath shook his head firmly. "No," he stated. "Or, to be more precise, you can touch them, but
there's nothing left of you to remember the experience afterward. When I was second apprentice third
assistant to the subordinate navigator, I heard a tale about the explorer Bethudniolanika—" The gnome
closed his mouth with an audible snap and took a deep, calming breath. "Sorry."
Teldin waved off the apology and shook his head with amazement. "I can't believe it," he said as he
took another draft from his mug. "I mean, Ido, but... go on."
The gnome finished his ale with another long swallow. "Ah," he said, "education's thirsty work.
Another?"
Teldin drank back the last of his ale and handed the mug to Horvath with a nod of thanks. The
drink was already spreading its comforting warmth through his body. Another couple of these, and I'll be
taking all this for granted, he thought.
"In other spheres, the stars are different," Horvath continued, as he drew two more mugfuls from
the barrel. "Some places, they're like portholes in the crystal shell, letting in the light of the flow itself. In
others, they're huge, glowing beetles that wander around the inside of the shell. They're a real sight,that I'll
tell you. And in others... Well, I've heard this, but I've never seen it. They're great bowls of fire held aloft
by huge statues of forgotten gods. At least, that's how the stories go"
"And you... you travel between these crystal spheres?" "You mean gnomes? Certainly we do,
though not very often," Horvath confirmed. "We trade, ferry passengers, but mostly just explore. That's
what we were doing when..." The navigator cleared his throat softly as he recalled his previous flight from
Krynn. Horvath briefly related how a group of gnomes had made it into space decades earlier, only to be
attacked by neogi and sent racing back to their home sphere and world. Only he and a handful of veterans
had survived the ensuing crash to tell the tale and oversee theUnquenchable's manufacture.
"That's fantastic!" Teldin sensed his new friend's mixed emotions and changed the subject. "What
exactly is the flow?"
"The flow? Well..." The gnome paused; "Whatever I said wouldn't be enough, and you wouldn't
believe me anyway. You've got to see the flow to understand it. Just wait a few days."
A cold fist seemed to grasp Teldin's heart. "A few days?" "Well, a week, maybe." Horvath paused
and looked appraisingly at Teldin. When he spoke again, his voice was gentler. "Of course we're leaving
this sphere. I thought you knew that."
Teldin closed his eyes. Yes, he'd known that the gnomish vessel was goingsomewhere, probably
another planet, but he'd assumed it was somewhere else in Krynnspace. Then he recalled other gnomes
aboard ship mentioning an excursion through the flow. He was leaving his world, which was bad enough,
but to be told that he was leavingeverything he thought of as his universe... For a moment he almost gave
in to crushing despair, but the moment passed. With an effort, he brought himself back from the brink of
discouragement and forced his eyes open. He realized that the gnome was still talking.
"Our course will take us to Devis, in a sphere called Path-space," Horvath was saying, "then on to
the Rock for a refit. He-Whose-Duties-Revolve-Around-Maintaining-And-Repairing..." He stopped short
and started again. "Our shipmaster says we're about due, particularly after that scrap with the neogi
spidership. You didn't think we'd hang around here, did you?"
"I didn't really think about it," Teldin replied, trying to keep his voice steady.
"Well, you should," Horvath said, not unkindly. "We're heading for the shell now. Good view on the
way. We'll be passing close to Zivilyn. What a wild planetthat is: twelve moons and more colors than
you've got names for." The gnome set down his empty mug. "My advice to you is, don't worry about it.
Enjoy the trip and learn everything you can. Once it gets in your blood, this is the only life that makes any
sense. You'll never go back to being a dirtkicker again." He slapped his thighs and stood. "Well, I'm on
watch shortly. Why don't you come up on deck with me? Just because I have the duty doesn't mean I can't
talk."
Teldin followed the gnome up a different companionway and emerged on deck farther aft than he'd
been before, just forward of the chaotic structure the gnomes called the stern-castle. He looked up and saw
another gnome leaning over the sterncastle rail, looking down at them. Remembering Horvath's comment
about humans only seeing the superficial, he tried with a critical eye to make out the differences between
the two gnomes. But, if he discounted the minor differences in clothing, the two looked enough alike to be
mirror images.
Horvath looked up at the other gnome and raised a hand in salute. "Greetings, Yourcaptainship, sir,
Captain Wysdor, sir." Now that Horvath was speaking to another gnome, the words flooded forth so fast
that, to Teldin's ears, they blurred inextricably together. "Wherewouldyoubewantingme?"
Captain Wysdor pointed forward and rattled off a speech even faster than Horvath's—so fast that
Teldin could make no sense of it at all. Horvath obviously understood, however. He snapped another salute
up at the captain and headed forward.
A little belatedly, Teldin followed. "What did he say?" the former farmer asked.
Horvath looked puzzled for a moment, then grinned. "I'd forgotten I might need to translate," he
said. "There's no watch this time. We took damage in the fight, and the captain needs to know how much.
He told me to get Saliman and a couple of others and take the longboat to check us out from stem to stern.
It shouldn't take too long." He took another couple of steps, then stopped again and turned back. "Would
you like to come?"
Teldin looked down at Horvath. "Come?" He tried to keep his voice flat, to hide his sudden
trepidation.
The gnome's smile told him he hadn't succeeded. "Certainly. You're Honorary Captain. You're
entitled. And you've got a lot of questions, probably, about spelljammers, about theUnquenchable. Am I
right? Well, the best way to learn is to look, as we gnomes say. Are you game? It'll be perfectly safe, I
promise you."
Teldin hesitated, then a broad grin spread across his face. "If this is perfectly safe, it'll be the first
safe thing I've done in weeks. I'm game."
"Good," Horvath said briskly. He turned away and called to a young gnome who was crossing the
mizzen deck. "Miggins-effivargonastro."
"Yo?"
"Get Salimanaduberostrafindal and, er, Danajustiantorala and join me at the longboat."
The young gnome nodded and trotted down a companion-way leading belowdecks. "Come on,"
Horvath said as he led Teldin forward.
The longboat rested on blocks on the gnomish dreadnought's mizzen deck, hard against the port rail.
Two large davits were bolted securely to the deck and the rail, and heavy block-and-tackle rigs were
hooked to large eyes at the longboat's bow and stern. Teldin looked the longboat over with interest. Now
here was a vessel he understood. About thirty feet long at the keel and tapered at bow and stern, it was a
larger version of the small riverboats that Teldin knew from his childhood. Oarlocks were mounted on the
gunwales, and two oars lay lengthwise across the thwarts that braced the hull. The only unusual feature
was the enormous, broad-armed chair that was bolted securely in place in the longboat's stern. Made from
heavy, dark wood and ornately carved, the chair looked more like a throne than something appropriate to a
water-going vessel, especially with the assorted bits of machinery that appeared to have been bolted to it at
random.
Horvath noted where Teldin was looking, "Minor helm," he said as though that was sufficient
answer, then he raised his voice. "Boat crew, get us ready to put out." A number of gnomes appeared from
elsewhere on deck and checked the davits' rigging, then took up the slack on the lines. "In you get," Horvath
told Teldin as he clambered over the gunwale. "Sit up in the bow if you like. It's a good view, and you'll be
out of the way."
Obediently Teldin stepped over the gunwale—easy for someone of his size—and settled onto the
forward thwart. As he did so, three other gnomes arrived and climbed aboard as well.
The youngest of the three—Miggisomething,he remembered Horvath had called him—looked at
Teldin curiously, then his face crinkled in a jaunty grin, and he winked broadly. "Welcome aboard the Ship
of Fools," he said in a cheerful voice as he settled upon a thwart amidships. "You can call me Miggins."
The second gnome to board was a marked contrast to Miggins. He was short and squat, even
shorter than Horvath, and his lined face made him look centuries older than Teldin's new friend. Instead of
the off-white shirts and leather aprons favored by most of the crew, he wore an ankle-length robe of rich
burgundy, its hems embellished with finely woven gold threads. Around his neck was a thin gold chain,
bearing as a pendant a rough nugget of raw gold almost as large as the gnome's small fist. A thin circlet of
gold was around his brow, holding his curly gray hair away from his face. Totally disinterested, he didn't
spare Teldin a glance as he seated himself in the ornate throne and laid his hands palms-down on its broad
arms.
The third gnome was different again. She was female, apparently about the same age as Horvath.
She wore the standard apron, but the cut of her clothes was different to accommodate the swell of her full
bosom. She shot a glare at Teldin, and he realized he'd been staring impolitely. He looked aside quickly in
embarrassment. The woman took her place on the same thwart as Miggins.
Horvath spoke up. "These are Dana, Miggins and Saliman," he said, indicating the individuals as he
named them. Teldin was glad that Horvath had abbreviated the names. "Welcome our new shipmate, Teldin
Moore," Horvath went on, "a mighty neogi-killer, I hear tell." The woman, Dana, shot him a quick glance
that mixed surprise and disbelief, then looked away again. Horvath nudged Teldin with an elbow. "Watch
out for Saliman," he said in a stage whisper, indicating with his thumb the elder gnome seated in the throne.
"Give him a chance and he'll entrap you with his rhetoric. You'll be worshipping gnomish gods and wishing
youwere a gnome before he's through with you." He raised his voice to its normal pitch. "And you, Dana,
I'll ask you to keep your lively good humor and ready wit to yourself, or you'll overwhelm our fine guest."
Dana snorted and shot Teldin another disgusted look.
"Boat crew ready?" Horvath bellowed.
"Ready," responded one of the gnomes at the ropes.
"Then take us out."
The lines complained as the boat crew took up the slack and lifted the longboat dear of the deck.
The davits pivoted with a groan as they swung the vessel over the rail.
"Lower away," Horvath ordered. "Easythis time."
The boat crew let out the lines, and the longboat descended slowly. When it reached where the
waterline would be on a seagoing vessel, the ropes went slack. The longboat bobbed slightly as though it
were floating on the ocean. Teldin looked over the gunwales at the blackness and distant stars below and
tightened his grip on the thwart.
"Free the lines," Horvath called... and after a moment added, "Teldin, that means you."
Teldin glanced back over his shoulder, then looked at the bow rigging. The lines in the
block-and-tackle were slack, but the large iron hook was still engaged with the eye on the bow. With a
conscious effort he loosened his grip on the thwart and started to stand. The boat swayed alarmingly.
"Keep low!" Horvath shouted. "It's a long way down."
Needing no second urging, Teldin crouched in the bow and reached upward to release the hook.
The lines swung free.
"Clear?"
"Clear," Teldin answered, as did Saliman from his position aft.
"Good. Now push us off."
Two gnomes wielding long poles with padded ends pushed on the longboat's hull. Slowly it moved
away from the dreadnought. Even when the smaller vessel was too far away for the gnomes to keep
pushing, it continued to drift slowly outward from the other ship.
"Oars out," Horvath said crisply. Dana and Miggins lifted the long oars, swung them outboard and
mounted them firmly in the oarlocks. They held the oars as if ready for a stroke, but didn't pull on them.
"Saliman, take us out... oh, a spear cast should do it. Oars parallel to the hull, please."
The older gnome nodded at Horvath's order. He closed his eyes and settled his hands more
comfortably on the arms of his throne... and the longboat began to move. Slowly picking up speed, it drew
farther away from the huge dreadnought. When they were about a hundred yards away, Teldin judged,
Dana and Miggins changed the angle of the oars they held. The longboat maneuvered to a course parallel to
that of theUnquenchable.
Teldin watched in fascination. He knew that the main motive power for a spelljamming vessel
came from the "spelljamming helm." Somehow this device absorbed magical energy from any spellcaster
who sat in it, and converted it into another form that drove the vessel. What purpose, then, did the
longboat's oars serve... or for that matter, the almost-transparent sails used by the neogi deathspiders?
After a few minutes of observation, of correlating the movements of the oars with the maneuvers of the
longboat, he came to a conclusion. Although the helmsman had control over the vessel's motions, that
control was only on a gross level. For finer maneuvering, the oars—and presumably the sails—were
required. This conclusion still didn't answer everything, he knew—like, what did the oars push
against?—but it did allow him to start to make sense of what he was seeing.
As the longboat maneuvered again, Teldin could see the dreadnought in all its glory... if that was
the right word. He'd seen it before in the lake at Mount Nevermind, but this perspective made it look even
more impressive... and even more outrageous. Its broad-beamed hull was several hundred feet long,
constructed of planking for the most part but patched and reinforced here and there with large plates of
metal. A little aft of amidships were the huge paddle wheels, turning slowly as though to propel the vessel
across a nonexistent river. Both forecastle and sterncastle loomed huge over the deck, massive
constructions of wood and metal that would surely overturn any true seagoing vessel. Even to Teldin, who
admitted he knew little to nothing of ship design, the structures looked fundamentally wrong. Chaotic they
seemed, as though built piecemeal by multiple crews of artificers who weren't on speaking terms with each
other.
Signs of battle were everywhere. The hull was marked and cracked here and there where it had
been struck by catapult missiles, and splintered pieces of wood hung by fraying ropes from the rigging. To
Teldin's unpracticed eye, the ship looked somewhat mauled but still "spaceworthy."
Horvath ordered course changes as he continued his inspection of the ship. As the longboat cruised
on, Teldin felt his gaze drawn once more to the world they were leaving behind them.
Krynn was now a full sphere, half in sunlight, half in darkness. The day side had taken on a brilliant
blue color, mottled over much of its surface with abstract patterns of white. The night side was dark, but
not pitch black, and once he saw a flash of dim, cold radiance that could only have been the light of one of
the moons reflecting off some body of water. It looked so beautiful and serene. How could this... this work
of art, be a world where conflict had killed so many? he wondered.
Light caught Teldin's eye from an unexpected direction then. The brilliance of the sun reflected off
a metal plate on theUnquenchable's hull. Had the longboat changed course again?
No, it was the dreadnought itself that had maneuvered. As he matched, the massive vessel
completed a turn. Its course was no longer parallel with that of the longboat, and the sidewheeler was
picking up speed.
Teldin looked back. Horvath's eyes, too, were locked on theUnquenchable. "What's happening?"
the human asked the gnome.
"Don't know," Horvath replied shortly, then snapped, "Saliman. Get us up to speed. Oars—" he
gestured his confusion "—follow that dreadnought!"
The longboat surged and began to accelerate, but Teldin knew it would never catch the
Unquenchable if the larger vessel maintained its present speed. Teldin shifted his position on the thwart,
and his foot struck something that rolled on the planking with a metallic sound. He reached down into the
scuppers and extracted a brass tube almost as long as his forearm. Although it was rare on Krynn, Teldin
recognized the object immediately: a sailor's glass. He raised it to his eye and pointed the tube at the
receding ship.
The dreadnought seemed to leap closer. Through the glass he could easily see the commotion on
deck. Gnomes were running everywhere, swarming into the rigging.
"Ship ho!" The voice was Miggins's, booming from the midships thwart. The gnome was pointing
generally forward and upward. "High on the port bow," he called, "ahead of the'quenchable!"
There was a cold prickling on Teldin's brow, and the flat, coppery taste of fear was in his mouth.
He strained to make out the ship, bringing the glass around in the direction in which the gnome was pointing,
but could see nothing against the blackness of space. You don't need to, his fear told him, youknow what it
looks like: a black spider, coming to kill you.
"Can you make it out?" Horvath asked.
"Is it neogi?" It took Teldin a moment to realize it was his own voice that had asked that.
In answer, the younger gnome reached forward and snatched the glass from Teldin's hands. "No,
not neogi," Mig-gins replied after a dozen heartbeats, "not a deathspider. Wasp. No,three wasps."
Relief washed over Teldin like a wave. For the first time, he realized that his forearms were
knotted from the death grip he had on the gunwale. With a conscious effort, he opened his hands and flexed
them to restore the circulation in his fingers.
Once again he looked up into space in the direction that Mig-gins had indicated. He could see the
ships—still too distant for him to pick out details, but recognizable as shapes totally different from the neogi
spiderships he'd imagined. He sighed and smiled at Horvath.
"Any colors?" Horvath asked.
"None," Miggins answered, then immediately corrected himself. "Hoisting a flag now. Black field..."
The young gnome's voice took on a harsher edge. "... red device. It's the neogi skull."
Teldin felt the sudden tension amid the rest of the crew. "What's happening?" he demanded. "You
said they're not neogi."
"No, they're not neogi," Horvath confirmed flatly. "The neogi skull flag is universal. They're
pirates."
Chapter Two
Teldin stated at the three ships closing rapidly with the dreadnought and spreading out into a
line-abreast formation. In the harsh sunlight he could make out their angular, somehow brutal configuration.
They seemed so small in contrast to the bulk of the dreadnought.
"Three wasps are serious trouble," Horvath said as if in answer to Teldin's thoughts. "They've got
the maneuverability, and theUnquenchable isn't in any shape for a fight, not now."
"But it's sailing right to them!" Teldin yelled.
"Sure she is." It was Dana who snapped back the answer. "In a stern chase, at that range, we'd
lose. They'd rake us, and we couldn't return fire until they chose to approach."
"Maybe they haven't the stomach for a foe thatwants to close," Miggins added.
"What do we do?" asked Teldin.
"Nothing," Horvath told him. "They can't retrieve a boat in a battle. We stay back." The gnome
grinned, but to Teldin it looked forced. "It won't be long. We've got enough air to hold out until this is over.
Even now, theUnquenchable can give a good accounting of herself. Right?"
"Right," Miggins answered heartily, a little too heartily, Teldin thought.
"I wish I were aboard," Dana mumbled.
Teldin had never seen a space battle from this perspective, and beingin one wasn't the same thing
at all. At first it seemed like a stately dance. From his vantage, the four ships seemed to be moving virtually
at a crawl, maneuvering to get the advantage on their foe. The approaching wasps initially held to their
line-abreast formation while theUnquenchable brought its bow to bear on the center pirate vessel. The
dreadnought's stern was now pointing directly at the longboat. The line of wasps began to lengthen
noticeably as the ships loosened up their formation.
It looked like the illustrations of naval skirmishes that Teldin had seen in his grandfather's books, but
then everything changed and he realized for the first time exactly how complex a space battle could be.
Suddenly, the two flanking wasps tipped their noses down and dived sharply. The line became a triangle,
and suddenly another dimension had been added to the tactical picture.
"Classic tactics," Horvath muttered.
"What?"
Horvath shot an exasperated look at Teldin... then relented. "You can't know," he said tiredly.
"Look you. It's the classic move for three ships engaging one. Form a triangle. If the enemy commits to
attacking one ship, the other two maneuver to parallel the enemy, or 'cross its T' and rake it from astern.
摘要：

IntotheVoid World-Spelljammer,CloackmasterCycle,Book2NigelFindleyAboutTheAuthorNigelFindleywasborninVenezuelaandgrewupinSpain,France,England,Nigeria,andotherforeigncountries.Afteryearsofworkingasaseniormarketingexecutive,heeventuallysettledinVancouver,Canada,andbecameafull-timefreelancewriter.Hehasp...

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