Julia had been there for him during the hours and days after the funeral. Never had she pressed her presence on him, but when he'd wanted someone to talk to-or someone just to silently be with him-she'd been there. The intense, confusing emotions he'd felt for her when they'd both been aboard the Probe hadn't returned. In their place he felt a growing kinship, a calm acceptance of each other's strengths and weaknesses, of needs and desires. It was friendship, but a different kind of friendship than he'd experienced before, more intense, yet also somehow more subtle. The two had been lovers aboard the Probe, and both seemed to accept that they'd be lovers again. But neither felt there was any need for haste in consummating matters.
While the captain had been coming to terms with the changes in his emotional landscape, the crew had been busy. Under the close scrutiny of Djan Alantri, they'd gone over the whole ship-supposedly checking for hidden damage the Boundless might have taken from the recent engagement, but actually looking for more signs of sabotage.
They'd found nothing, the half-elf had reported. While they'd been at it, they'd reinforced the mountings for both booms-mainmast and mizzen-since Djan had recognized that that was a weak point in the squid ship's design. They'd also patched and reinforced the bow where the pirate's catapult shot had struck. In what Teldin had considered a meaningless exercise, they'd even repainted the scores and scratches left on the ram from when it had pierced the battle dolphin's hull. Now those areas gleamed a bright blood red, a strong counterpoint to the dull, space-faded hue of the rest of the ship.
The Boundless was seventeen days out from the Heart-space sphere. A new crystal sphere loomed ahead of the squid ship, right where Teldin's copied chart had said it would be. Nex is within it, the Cloakmaster told himself. It bas to be. The ancient book had been right about everything else. And if Nex were there, were the Juna present also? He'd know soon enough.
Standing on the afterdeck, Teldin looked forward along the hull, along the slender ram, toward the crystal sphere that hung in the phlogiston like a huge pearl. In the Flow it was nearly impossible to judge the scale of anything, or its distance, with the naked eye alone. Even so, he could feel that he was close.
He looked away from the sphere as Djan joined him on the sterncastle. "Six hours from the sphere," the half-elf said with a smile, "maybe a little less. That's what the navigator says." He hesitated, and Teldin could see doubt in his friend's expression. "She also says it's very small," he went on slowly. "Unusually small. Maybe too small, I don't know. Based on our distance and its apparent size, the sphere can't be more than a single day's sail from one side to the other."
Teldin nodded slowly. "Unusual," he admitted.
Djan smiled wryly. "Very unusual," he emphasized. "If Nex is the outer planet of the system, that makes it only six hours' sail away from the sun. If it's not the outer planet…" He shrugged.
The Cloakmaster understood his point. If it's not the outer planet, Nex is even less than six hours from its primary. In contrast, Krynn was twenty-four hours' sail from the sun. Did that mean Nex would be a fire-scorched cinder? Or was its sun abnormally small, or very cold? "Well,'' he told Djan, "we'll know soon enough."
The half-elf nodded. "That we will."
*****
Unusually small or not, the crystal sphere still loomed huge before the Boundless as the ship approached. From this distance, the curvature of the mother-of-pearl outer surface was invisible, and Teldin could almost believe the squid ship was suspended, bow down, over an infinite flat plain.
Below him, within the sterncastle, Blossom was on the helm, while Dranigor readied himself to open the portal. Djan stood in his customary position by the speaking tube that communicated with the helm compartment. "Ready to open the portal," the first mate announced. Teldin simply nodded, hardly listening as the half-elf relayed the command to Dranigor. This could be it, he told himself, the end of my quest. Maybe 'the creators'-the mysterious figures the dying reigar had spoken of at the outset of all this-were on the other side of this crystal barrier.
Or maybe there was nothing there at all, and this was just another dead end. Part of him eagerly awaited the opening of the portal; another part wished for more time-more time before his hopes were dashed again.
With a firm shake of his head, he forced the negative thoughts deep into the darkness of his mind.
A point of brilliance sprung to life on the surface of the sphere, swelling quickly to become the lightning-limned disk of blackness that had become familiar to Teldin. The Boundless plunged through the portal…
Into total blackness. There were no stars, no sun; there was nothing to give any illumination. For an instant, Teldin thought he'd been struck blind.
"Make lights!" Djan called from beside him. Within a few moments, he saw small flames burst to life around the decks as crew members struck lights with their tinderboxes and ignited strategically placed oil lamps. Djan himself lit the large ship's lantern hanging from the jackstay at the aft rail.
Teldin looked around in puzzlement. Beyond the extent of the ship, there was literally nothing to see, nothing at all. Even the portal had closed behind the ship.
"No stars," he murmured. Then he turned to Djan, and asked, "Is this common?"
The first mate shook his head. "I can't remember ever hearing of a crystal sphere without stars," he admitted. He gestured forward. "Or a fire body of any type."
Teldin looked forward, too, in the direction that should lead to Nex. The half-elf was right: there was no light ahead either.
No sun? he wondered. How could life exist without light? Maybe the sun's burned out… which could explain why the crystal sphere's so small.
"Well, Captain," Djan said slowly, "what course?"
Teldin didn't answer at once. It was a good question. What course do you set in a crystal sphere that seems to be completely empty? And how do you set it anyway, with no stars or sun to navigate by? "Hold position," he ordered. "Let's think about this."
Djan relayed the order down the speaking tube, then announced, "Station-keeping, Captain."
Teldin suppressed a smile. He'd noticed that when the time came for a serious decision, the half-elf would usually become much more formal, addressing the Cloakmaster as "Captain" rather than "Teldin." Did he do it to divorce himself from the responsibility, or to remind Teldin of the weight of his burden? Or was the first mate even aware that he did it? Probably not, Teldin decided.
Regardless, the responsibility was Teldin's. He and only he could decide what to do next.
Well, what he needed at the moment was information- any information-on which to base that decision. But where would he get it'
Possibly from the cloak. He knew that he hadn't explored all of the ultimate helm's powers. Maybe one of those abilities would help him.
"Continue station-keeping," he told Djan. "I'll be below if you need me."
He descended the ladder to the main deck and walked forward into the forecastle. As he did, he noticed that the on-duty crewmen were lining the rails, staring silently into nothingness. Nobody was speaking, but they didn't have to for Teidin to understand their anxiety. Paladine's blood, he felt it himself. Originally, when he'd first taken to space, the star-flecked void had terrified him. Now, however, it was familiar, reassuring, and the absence of stars was cause for concern. He continued forward into his cabin and seated himself on the edge of his bunk.