Heaving a sigh, Teldin pulled the thingfinder to him and picked it up. As Dyffed mumbled apologies, Teldin held up the box as he had seen Dyffed do, placing the glass plate in front of his face. He tried to face it in the same direction as the gnome had aimed it, thinking all the while about a giant, balking black slug-as best as he could visualize one.
Almost at once, he felt a sort of tickling sensation inside his head. It was difficult to describe it as anything else. The image of a giant slug sharpened in his mind until he thought he would see it: a creature perhaps a third the length of the old Probe, gleaming black and very thick. From the near end of the beast sprouted a handful of whiplike tentacles, two of them especially thick and having bulbous ends. Between the tentacle roots was a huge, circular mouth rimmed with a double row of long yellow-gray fangs. Curiously, above the treat central mouth was a large human-type mouth.
With a shock, Teldin realized that he was. looking at such a creature. It was clearly visible before him. He knew that the image was not displayed on the glass plate of the thingfinder; Instead, the view of the fal replaced his normal vision, blocking out everything else as if it were the only object in sight. The being appeared to be resting, stretched out full length on invisible ground somewhere.
Abruptly, the bulbous antennae writhed and moved, weeping slowly around as if searching for something nearby.
A sense of dread grew in the back of Teldin's mind, and he was certain that somehow the creature knew it was being watched, but he fought the urge to tear his gaze away from it. This is impossible, he thought; what I'm seeing is merely some sort of magical image the thingfinder is creating. Even if this was the mul, it could not possibly know that-
The creature lifted the front third of its great bulk into the air with an unhurried motion. The head-if he could call it that-tilted and moved until it was aimed directly at Teldin, one two thickest antennae pointing at him from their widely separated directions. The upper humanlike mouth moved.
You are greeted. The sensation of the beast's words in Teldin's mind was nothing at all like that when he had once
Chapter Fourteen
"Are those the scro?" Teldin asked, pointing aft at the swarm of distant objects on the horizon. He felt like a fool to ask, but he wanted to be sure.
"That they are, sir!" Gomja shouted, unnecessarily loudly. "We're clearing the deck for helm changeover, so you'll have to come inside! You, too, Mister Jammermaker!"
Teldin quickly got to his feet and headed for the open hatch, still not entirely comfortable to be walking around on the open deck so far from the ground. "We found the fal!" he called. "It's off that way, ahead but up and to the right, to starboard!" He looked down at Dyffed, but the gnome was busy watching the approaching fleet through his thingfinder. Teldin grabbed the gnome by the shoulders and propelled him toward the hatch.
One minute later, Teldin pulled the hatch shut behind him and bolted it tight, then descended the last few rungs on the ladder to the deck. He fought down a brief surge of claustrophobia, telling himself that one day he wouldn't have to face being cooped up in a gnomish ship ever again-at least, not if the gods were kind.
"We've been going too slowly for too long, sir," Gomja said, checking Teldin's bolting of the hatch. He climbed down the ladder, looking grim. "Aelfred wants to pull Loomfinger off the helm and put Sylvie back on. You should go to your cabin during changeover. I believe we'll have some trouble there, but it shouldn't last long. I'll handle everything else around here."
"I can give a hand, I'm sure," Teldin started to say. The huge giff shook his head vigorously. "That won't be necessary. We're not going to go above to shoot back at the scro this time. We lack the troops, and the wind will be too great when Sylvie takes over. Just-"
The door into the room banged open unexpectedly. An overweight, sweating gnome hurried into the room, panting as if he'd run a long distance, and bounced off Gomja's massive left leg before coming to a stop. "Teldin Mayor," he announced, red faced and out of breath. "Captain Albert Silverhand requests-no, wait. Captain Albert Silverhorn requests your-Captain Aelfred Hornsilver requests-oh, bother! The captain would like to see you in the helm room right away if you have a moment for an emergency now, unless it's a bother."
Gomja appeared stunned for a moment at the message but quickly recovered himself. "Calm yourself and get your message straight, Private," Gomja ordered the gnome. The gnome immediately sat down and tried to catch his breath, repeating his message softly to himself to straighten it out. Gomja turned back to Teldin with a concerned look on his face. "I wouldn't worry about it, sir. I think Gurfley here has his message twisted around. I'll get it straightened out and tell you later in your cabin. Get some rest."
"I think I got the basic idea of what the message was," Teldin said. "I'll find out what's going on with Aelfred."
"But sir!" Gomja called anxiously. "Changeover could be dangerous. I don't think it would be wise to go there yet. Wait until it's over, at least."
Teldin hesitated. Gomja might have a point. He waved to the giff and said, "Whatever you say," then left the room, closing the door behind him. On impulse, he set off for the helm room anyway. Aelfred wouldn't ask for him unless it was at least remotely important.
Teldin made the trip through the low, narrow corridors of the ship with better than usual speed, stumbling over gnomes only twice. When he arrived in the helm room, he found Loomfinger on the elaborately decorated helm, perched nervously on the edge of the thronelike seat. Aelfred and Sylvie were there, as was Gaye, standing almost in a corner of the room. Gaye immediately smiled and waved at Teldin when he entered. Aelfred glanced at him, then turned his attention back to Sylvie.
"You sure you're up to this?" Aelfred asked with concern. He stood by Sylvie, who was seated on a stool just in front of the helm and rubbing her face vigorously.
"Damn it, I'm fine," the half-elf muttered. "I got a little sleep, anyway. If we make it quick, we won't drop more than a few hundred feet, a thousand at most. How high are we? Arc we above the clouds? No-I mean, are we above-are we high enough to make that drop okay? You know what I mean, Aelfred. Just tell me."
Aelfred looked up at Teldin and gave a quick shake of his head, his lips pressed into a line.
Teldin then caught on to what was happening. "Aelfred, do you want me to take the helm?" he asked. "I don't know anything about how to make this thing work, and the last time I tried running the helm, it didn't work."
"You did pretty damn well when we flew out of the reach of those scro at Ironpiece," Aelfred said flatly. "We don't have time to quibble. We've got to get up and out of this atmosphere, or we'll never get anywhere. We don't know how high the air goes, but it will be faster sailing for us all the farther we get from the ground and the scro. No offense, Loomfinger, but we need the best person in that helm right now. Sylvie's too tired to do it, and I want you to try, Teldin." Aelfred looked back at the gnome on the helm. "What's the situation out there?"
The gnome swallowed. "The fleet is still behind us, sir," he said, his speech growing more rapid with each second. "We are at two and a half miles altitude and I count twenty ships to aft so far, and they are gaining on us and should be upon us in ten minutes or so unless we change helmsmen, but I can still run the helm in an emergency if you need me anytime. Just call me and I can run the helm in a jiffy and never-"