He sat up and rubbed his eyes. Rest would do him no good now; he was too excited, and, though he felt strong after his bath, he knew that the events of the long day would catch up with him in a few hours. Already he felt light-headed, but he did not know if that was from the day's battle or simply exhilaration at his journey's end. Or … Cwelanas. No matter what he thought about, her face appeared to interrupt his concentration. It had been so long since they had last seen each other, but the emotions he felt for her were strong, perhaps stronger than when they had parted at Sancrist.
Not long after his impromptu speech before CassaRoc's warriors, Cwelanas had begged off to perform a few errands for CassaRoc. She had given Teldin a gentle kiss and let her hand linger on his arm. " 'Teldin Cloakmaster.' I like the sound of that. They'll rally around you with a title like that." She looked into his eyes. "I never thought you would find me," she had whispered to him, a hint of sadness in her golden eyes.
Then she had left, and Teldin had been pulled by CassaRoc to meet some of his fighters.
Now he could not get her out of his mind. She had been lost to him long before he had even met Gaeadrelle Goldring, the kender. He wanted to believe that Cwelanas's presence here was more of a distraction than anything else, pulling him from his purpose. He hated to admit it: he could not deny a very obvious attraction to the silver-haired elf. But his mission on the Spelljammer was paramount, he thought, and a romance was not at all what he had planned, not at all.
Still, her face would not disappear from his mind.
Teldin was lost in thought when CassaRoc's messenger knocked on his door, and he did not even look up until the messenger loudly called out his name. He recognized the voice and sighed softly.
He opened the door, and Emil stepped in quickly. The short little warrior threw back his plaid cape and exclaimed, "Hi, Mr. Cloakmaster, sir. CassaRoc the Mighty sent me to get you. He said the leaders of the halflings and the giff and somebody else are here to see you. Boy, I tell you, you and that cloak of yours sure are impressive. You don't know how much I'd love to-"
"Okay, okay," Teldin said, "calm down." Then he added, "You remind me of some gnomes I once shipped with."
This sent Emil into a fit of high-pitched laughter. "Oh, no, no, sir, I'm not a gnome, not at all. I just get excited and get carried away sometimes. You just let me know if I start bothering you, sir," he said, grinning. "Everybody else does. Oh, yeah, you bet, I can be a pain." He laughed.
Teldin patted his shoulder, wondering why Emil smelled vaguely of cheese, and together they went down to the tower's meeting hall, Emil chattering incessantly along the way. Teldin tuned him out eventually, since Emil really needed only himself to carry on a conversation, and spoke to him only when they reached the great hall's door.
"Thank you, Emil. You've been a great help."
Emil blushed and squirmed happily, wringing his hands. "Boy, Mr. Teldin Cloakmaster, sir, I sure do- "
"Thank you. That's fine, Emil. You go on now. I don't want to keep you from your duties."
"Oh, oh, oh, oh, okay, sir," he said happily, and he scurried away.
Teldin opened the door and heard CassaRoc call out, "Here he is now."
He stopped and stared at the huge giff rising from the table, convinced that what he was seeing was impossible. "Gomja?" he almost asked. But Gomja, the giff that had become his friend while still on Krynn, was far away. He was with the gnomes now, the leader of the entire gnomish military, and he knew he would probably never see his large friend again.
The broad-shouldered giff that stood before him now was fully Gomja's height, maybe taller. He boasted an odd, triangular plate that seemed to have been bolted onto his snout, and it was overlaid with ivory and decorated with scintillating diamonds. His uniform was the full dress of the giff military, and his barrel chest seemed ready to burst the uniform at its seams.
Teldin shook the giff s mammoth, outstretched hand, which seemed surprisingly gentle. The giff introduced himself with a slight bow of his head. "Lord High Gunsman Rexan Hojson," he said.
"We call him Diamondtip, for short," said CassaRoc, touching the tip of his nose.
Teldin smiled and tried not to stare at the giff's ornate snout, but he found it quite difficult. "I see. It's a pleasure to meet you, Lord Hojson." Teldin introduced himself, and the others around the table stood.
"Agate Ironlord Kova," said the leader of the Citadel of Kova, thudding the handle of his battle-axe once on the floor.
Teldin nodded. The proud dwarf barely stood as tall as Teldin's waist, but he shook hands regally, and his closely cropped gray beard gave Kova an appearance of quiet dignity.
Another dwarf came around the table, his hand outstretched, his red hair so bright that it almost seemed aflame. "Vagner Firespitter, of the Free Dwarves," he said loudly. His wild, bushy beard was painted with the colors of a rainbow, and his mane of bright, scarlet hair did nothing to detract from his motley assortment of clothing, a brilliant blue tunic and pants of yellow and black.
Two halflings came around the table to shake hands. Teldin looked down. "Kristobar Brewdoc," said the younger halfling. He was thin for one of his kind, with barely an ounce of fat around his thick torso. "Hancherback Scuttlebay," the other halfling said. He was shorter and heavier than Kristobar, and he wore a black vest bearing mystical patterns and runes.
"Gentlemen, we're glad you could come so quickly." CassaRoc said, "Now, if you'll allow me a word with the Cloakmaster before we begin …"
The leaders nodded and waited as CassaRoc pulled Teldin over to the bar. He kept his voice low. "Chaladar the Holy is being righteous again."
"Where is he?" Teldin asked.
CassaRoc scowled. "He knew this meeting was important, but he refused to sit in the same room with the halfling Hancherback. He's a thief, just like half the other beings on board this ship, and His Holiness wouldn't be caught undead here with somebody like him."
Teldin nodded. "That's unfortunate. His backing here would have helped us a great deal. But the two of us will make do, I'm sure."
CassaRoc nodded.
"Don't worry," Teldin said, trying to import more assurance than he felt. "We'll do fine."
"One more thing," CassaRoc said. "The elves and the Shou have not responded. Probably to be expected, but I don't like the sound of it. We may have a problem with them. You can trust an elf only so far. "
Teldin shrugged. "Yes, I know elves well. There is nothing we can do. We'll discuss this later."
Teldin gestured for his guests to sit. The giff, Diamondtip, squatted upon a metal keg of CassaRoc's, the only seat in the meeting room sturdy enough to bear the beast's weight. The others pulled their chairs around the scarred wooden table.
"Sorry for the delay," Teldin said, deliberately turning to each as he spoke and looking into each one's eyes. "By now, I'm sure you've heard various versions of my arrival and the reasons for my coming. Let me tell you the honest truth and try to clear up any misconceptions you may have.
"They're calling me Teldin Cloakmaster. I've discovered that the cloak that I bear is an ultimate helm- perhaps, if I am correct, the ultimate helm," he said without thinking, wondering where the words had come from. "And with it I've been searching the universe for the answers to my questions.
"My answer is here, I know now. My answer is the Spelljammer itself, though I still don't know what it all means. I am not here to harm anyone, nor am I here to bring on the Dark Times, as you have probably heard. I don't even know what the Dark Times are."