They briefly talked about some of the legends concerning the Spelljammer, in order for Teldin to get an idea of the great ship's history- what they actually knew of it- and the power structures and hierarchies on board. No one had ever heard of Teldin's cloak before the beholder myth had started to circulate months earlier. Neither could they elaborate on the Dark Times and what they meant to the ship. "All we know," Diamondtip explained slowly, "is that the Dark Times herald war for us all. Food will be in short supply, though we don't really know why. Most of the communities have food supplies and even grow some themselves. Our primary food comes from the Spelljammer's gardens, and I can think of no reason why that should ever stop. The gardens are open to all, and the harvests are plentiful. We go completely without want."
Talk eventually turned from there to the nature of Teldin's cloak. All, of course, knew of ultimate helms, but they could not be sure of the peculiar qualities the cloak had displayed. "That could be what pulled you out here," Lord Kova said, stroking his trim beard. "But if the cloak is truly an ultimate helm, it is the strangest helm I've ever heard of."
"Perhaps it is something special," said Kristobar Brewdoc. "That would explain why the evil ones consider you dangerous- perhaps it is some kind of device whose magic is uncontrollable, or even limitless. A charm like that could destroy all your enemies."
"Aye," CassaRoc said, "even…" He took a draft of ale. "Even the Fool."
"The Fool? Who is that?" Teldin asked.
"No one," Brewdoc said hurriedly. "Make-believe, to keep children in line."
Hancherback snorted loudly. "Not hardly. He's real, I tell you, but he is less than human- far less." He turned to the Cloakmaster. "Evil incarnate, he is. A serpent in the belly of the Spelljammer."
"Aye," Kova said. "We mortals brought the monster to the Spelljammer. And we mortals must destroy it."
Firespitter was silent through this, glaring occasionally at Lord Kova. He believed that the Fool was a myth created by the Kovans for some unknown purpose- only the dwarves under Kova would be so stupid as to fashion such a ridiculous bogeyman. A worm. Hah!
"No one knows who the Fool really is," Diamondtip said, "or if he really exists. Some say he is the secret captain, some say he was the captain once, now deposed. Others say he is a being formed by the violent deaths of others, a being of soulless energy. Others don't believe in him at all."
A blank look fell across Teldin's face. There was something there with them, he could feel, something cold and empty gnawing at the pit of his soul.
CassaRoc was watching him and said, "Teldin, are you all right?"
Silently Teldin reached across the table and plucked the dagger from CassaRoc's belt. He held it between his fingers and hefted it, then turned slowly, as if in a trance. In one strong, swift motion, he slung it toward the base of CassaRoc's bar.
"What in the name of the gods do you think you're- "
CassaRoc stopped when he saw what Teldin had done. The dagger vibrated, its point embedded in the wood, and a huge black rat was impaled upon the blade. The knife had speared the rat straight through, yet it still squirmed, scrabbling with its sharp claws against the floor and the wooden bar. There was no blood.
"How?" asked Hancherback.
"It was already dead," Teldin said. He pulled the knife from the wood and held up the squirming rat.
Firespitter said, "Undead?"
Teldin nodded. His eyes glazed over and he held his hand close to the rat. The amulet at his neck grew warm. "Someone had to control this rat. He sees through their eyes."
"Who?" CassaRoc asked.
Kova answered. "The Fool, that's who. That's been a legend, too, that he sees through the eyes of others."
"No," Teldin said. "Only the undead, I think."
"It looks as if we've got one more enemy than we planned on," Diamondtip said. "Well, my guns will be ready for him."
Teldin crushed the rat's head beneath the heel of his boot. Blackness stained the old floor, and the rat died its true, final death. The Fool, Teldin thought. Perhaps the legends about him are true. Teldin nodded. It seems as if the battle lines have been drawn. If I've been called here to become the Fool's enemy, then I am right about my quest.
I'm here to fight for life, and the Fool fights only for death.
…
The alliance soon adjourned so that its members could take the news back to their respective communities, and to prepare for the eventual war with the evil unhumans. When the allies were gone, CassaRoc closed the door and pulled Teldin over to the table.
"I'm weary," Teldin told the warrior. "I am so tired of fighting and death."
"I don't blame you at all, Teldin. You've been through a lot today."
Teldin yawned. His eyes felt scratchy, and he rubbed his face to keep himself alert. "It is catching up with me, I think. Still, I feel as though there is much to be done. I couldn't sleep earlier. I don't know if I could now."
"You look as tired as you sound. Go on to your quarters. You'll sleep just fine."
CassaRoc watched him silently as the Cloakmaster stared away. "There's just so much to do."
"So, what is it with you and that cloak?" CassaRoc asked. "What?"
"You're… seeing things, aren't you? You knew that undead rat was here."
Teldin thought. Yes, he had been seeing things and hearing things, and knowing things that he had no knowledge of before he had landed on the Spelljammer.
"I'm not sure," Teldin finally said. "I did know the rat was here, but I'm not sure how." He thought for a moment. "I think it's a combination of things. The amulet and the cloak, working together, perhaps. The fact that I'm here on the Spelljammer, where its magic is more powerful, may help. Perhaps the powers of the cloak are getting stronger as well." "Or perhaps you are," CassaRoc said. Teldin nodded. "Yes, you may be right. It may be me, but I don't know everything about this ship. Actually, I know very little. I don't think I'll know everything until I become- "
He stopped himself. Until I become… what? He did not know, but it was there, flickering like energy through the cloak, through his being. Somewhere inside him, his reason for being here was locked away like an ancient treasure. And the key was somewhere upon the Spelljammer.
Someone knocked loudly on the door to the meeting hall, then opened it. One of CassaRoc's warriors, a tall, gangly fighter named Hath, stuck his head in. "CassaRoc, a word with you."
CassaRoc grunted and stepped into the hall. Hath closed the door. Teldin heard voices behind the thick wood, but could not make out any words, then CassaRoc came back in.
"Teldin, I'm sorry. My man just gave me word that your helmsman-" Teldin stood. "Corontea?"
CassaRoc frowned. He seemed to sag slightly, and he took a deep breath. "Teldin-" "Don't," Teldin said. "Corontea didn't make it." The survivors from the crash of the Julia had been sneaked over soon after Teldin and CassaRoc had made their way to the Tower of Thought. At that time, Djan had been administered medicines and healing spells for superficial cuts and burns. The healer had placed a sleep spell on him, to give his injuries time to heal.
Corontea, however, had been a different matter. The Julia's female helmsman had far too many internal injuries, and the healers knew that there was nothing they could do for her except relieve her pain.
CassaRoc sighed. "I'm sorry, son. My healers tried everything, but they claim she was hurt too badly. One healer would cast a spell and heal one wound, and it seems like another injury would pop up. There was nothing they could do except ease the pain. They cast a spell of numbness over her. She died in peace, at least."
"At peace," Teldin said. He scowled. "She died because of me." Teldin shook his head at the irony. "Sixteen other people on board the Julia, and only two survive, all because of me." He looked up. "What about Djan?"