"If you listen only to tales," said Cirathorn without humor, "you will be fatally unprepared when you find the queen of ships. We have heard tales, too, of the Spelljammer. That it was built by goblinkind or devils, that it is overrun with beholders who fight among themselves in endless wars, that it is willful and intelligent, that it is the toy of an evil god, that to even see it will cause death or blindness or a sickness of the spirit. It is said to be the abode of the most monstrous beings in the cosmos.
"We trust in the information within our own archives most, which were painfully built from guesses and luck, supplemented by visits to One Six Nine, who has spent a thousand years studying the lore of wildspace. Of late, we have not troubled One Six Nine with questions about the Spelljammer, as these queries are slow to produce an answer and we have had more pressing business to attend to than the chasing of a rogue ship. One of our own sages spent eight years waiting for a minor detail on its structure and received only a sentence. Knowledge we value, that is true, but there are fewer dreamers among us than there once were. Only a dreamer would chase the Spelljammer." The elf leaned forward. His dark gaze pierced Teldin's own. "Are you a dreamer, Teldin Moore?"
The word "no" hovered on Teldin's tongue. I don't believe in dreams, he thought, not since the war. We crushed evil and left poverty in our wake. Men with dreams, those were the Knights of Solamnia, who left all their dead behind to be buried by us, who followed their bloody footprints. They killed to save the world, but they left only ruin behind them. Hard work in peacetime was not a part of their dreams.
Ever since I was given the cloak, I've had no goals left but to find out what it is and what I should do with it. All of my options have been cut away. I have no dreams left except to follow the cloak's path.
Strangely, for a moment he thought of Cwelanas, the beautiful elven seafarer he had met just before he left Krynn, and of the copper-haired Julia, waiting for him on the Probe. Did he ever imagine now that one or the other might be a good traveling companion on the way to the Spelljammer? Instantly his jaw tightened, and he looked down. As long as he had the cloak, he was more deadly a partner than any lover deserved.
The one time he had trusted enough to take a lover, it had been Rianna Wyvernsbane, who had betrayed him to the neogi and tried to kill him, only to die horribly herself. Love was a nightmare now, not a dream. He dared not think about it.
Teldin roused himself. The admiral stared at him with cool patience.
"I will find the Spelljammer, whatever it takes," Teldin said.
"My question is unanswered, then, but no matter," Cirathorn said. "If you would go hunting, you would do well to learn the lore of your prey. Will you seek One Six Nine's advice before you set out?"
"It doesn't sound like I have much choice."
"You have every choice there is, but few wise ones. We cannot give you the current pathway through the phlogiston to the sphere we call Herdspace, but on a small worldlet in this sphere, only three days from here, you can find the answer. The gnomes have a colony on that planet, which they call Iron-piece, and they were the last to have visited One Six Nine, only a year ago. I do not know the result of their query, or even what it was, but I doubt that what they would ask of a falma-daraatha would interest us. We will give you whatever supplies you need for your journey."
Cirathorn looked to Teldin's right. "Indeed," he continued, finding the subject he was looking for, "we might even be able to find a traveling companion for you, if you have room. Have you met Dyffedionizer Artifactos Lammermaker?"
Even before he turned to look, Teldin knew who was being talked about. Only a gnome would ever stand for a name like that. He immediately saw that he was right. The pudgy gnome stared in shock at the admiral and other elves, his hands still clutching his pen and paper.
"What did you want? What are you saying?" asked the confused gnome in his nasal voice. "Where am I going?"
"Dyffedionizer Artifactos Jammermaker," continued Cirathorn, unperturbed, "is unrivaled in his understanding of spelljamming theory and construction. Dyffed long ago completed his work on ship design for the Imperial Fleet, and had requested that he be given passage back to his home on Ironpiece. Unfortunately, his subsequent studies have distracted him, and he has missed every voyage back to Ironpiece for the last eight years. If you offered him room aboard your hammer-ship, he might well offer you able assistance on your quest for the Spelljammer, as I believe that ship is of special interest to him."
"The Spelljammer?" mumbled the pop-eyed gnome, his face covered with amazement. "Now, you don't mean just any spelljammer, do you? Or do you mean the big Spelljammer, the really big one? The one-and-only Spelljammer? Or is this a joke? I can never tell with you elves. You must mean some other kind of-"
"If you will bear with him," said Cirathorn patiently, "you will find his advice most helpful, though you may have to remind him when he should eat, and perhaps when he should bathe as well. We will-"
"Wait!" yelled the gnome in a panic. "No one's told me if you're talking about the one-and-only Spelljammer or not yet, and besides I did take a bath not long ago. You elves think you know everything, and if you're doing this just to trick me, well, I'm not just anyone's fool, but first tell me if you really mean the one-and-only Spelljammer or not so I know what you're talking about, because if you really mean the one-and-only Spelljammer, well, that's another kettle of lug nuts, because I wrote an article on the Spelljammer to Spelljamming Week amp; Wildspace Technology, which will see publication in just five years, once they get their printing presses working again after the last explosion, but more to the point-"
Teldin glanced at the admiral. Cirathorn's head bobbed slightly in rough rhythm with the gnome's pressured speech. "You will become accustomed to him, as have we," the elf said softly, turning in Teldin's direction again. "Trust me that it will be worth the trouble."
Teldin shrugged his shoulders. "It depends on the Probe's captain, but I don't think he'll have a problem with one more passenger. If he can help us when we find the Spelljammer, it will be worth any amount of trouble." Almost any trouble, he added to himself.
"It is settled, then." Cirathorn sighed and rose to his feet, stretching his legs and ignoring the gnome's continued rambling and questions. "Let us rest for an hour, then return here when all have been refreshed. You have given us much to consider, Teldin Moore, as well as much wonder and entertainment, which I am sure was not your purpose. Please remain with us in our embassy until we reconvene. We will present you with our papers on the Spelljammer as soon as possible, then will see you on your way."
"That will be fine," said Teldin, but it wasn't as fine as all that. He would have to see if someone else could translate the papers for him, especially if they were in Elvish or used unnaturally long words, which he feared would be the case. Maybe Aelfred could translate them. Anything would be better than having the gnome try to explain them.
Something else bothered Teldin. It was great that Cirathorn was being so helpful, but why? Teldin had been betrayed and attacked so many times that he found it impossible to believe that anyone would help him out of pure goodness. What was the admiral's take in all of this? Or had Teldin merely become too cynical? He had to clear this up before his ship left. Elves weren't inclined to be blunt like humans, but he had to know the truth.