Part 9 (2/2)
The perceptive Vallus stepped in to soothe the elven sage. ”The war of which Teldin Moore speaks is a matter for other worlds. It rages far from your sh.o.r.es, Master Tseth.”
The elven queen leaned back in her throne, her expression suddenly unreadable. Her gold-flecked gaze settled upon Teldin. ”Where does your search take you next?”
”The Broken Sphere.”
His answer apparently surprised them, for over a dozen pairs of elven eyebrows leaped upward in perfectly ch.o.r.eographed unison. The elven sages exchanged arch glances. ”Might we ask why?” asked the elderly Tseth in a supercilious tone.
”A fal, a giant s.p.a.ce sage known for its long life and great wisdom, told me I might find the answers at the Broken Sphere.”
His response sent the elves into a chorus of laughter. The sound made Teldin think of fairy bells and delighted babies. ”I take it you don't agree?” Teldin asked as soon as he thought he could be heard. He was as bewildered by their reaction as he was charmed by the music of their laughter.
”Along with wisdom and longevity, the fal are known for their cryptic responses,” remarked the sage who had spoken before. The elf s smile struck Teldin as unbearably patronizing, and his patience slipped. He had come here for answers, not oblique ridicule.
”Perhaps that's a trait common to sages of all races, Master Tseth,” Teldin shot back, meeting the ancient elf's eyes steadily. His response sent the elves into a renewed bout of merriment, an intimate, shared laugh that made Teldin feel as if he inadvertently had stumbled upon a favorite family joke. Far from insulted, the ancient sage actually seemed pleased.
”Well said!” congratulated a black-haired elven prince, wiping his streaming eyes. He beamed at Teldin and added, ”You've met Master Tseth before, I take it?”
”That's enough, Asturian,” Amlauril murmured in the manner of any mother curbing an adolescent son, but, when she turned to Teldin, her eyes still danced with laughter. ”We do not disagree with your sage slug, Teldin Moore. The answers to the mystery that is the Spelljammer may well be found at the Broken Sphere.”
”And the answers to every other question as well,” added Prince Asturian, still grinning.
”I'm afraid I don't understand,” faltered Teldin.
”Permit me?” asked Tseth. Amlauril nodded, and the aged elf began. ”In simple terms, elven philosophy holds that the Broken Sphere is the primordial sphere, the mother of the universe, if you will. All other spheres, all life, for that matter, erupted from this single source in an explosion of unimaginable power. In time, new spheres formed and began their path outward upon the phlogiston. According to records gleaned from the Elders-an ancient people long since vanished-and from our own observations, it would appear that the spheres still move away from the source.”
”Then couldn't you trace these paths back to the source, and locate the Broken Sphere that way?” Teldin asked, excited by the notion.
The sage shook his head. ”Such a path cannot be traced. The movement is so minute as to be almost indiscernible, and the time involved is beyond fathoming.” He paused, a look of deep contemplation etched into the lines of his face. ”The universe is of unimaginable age. One ponders the ephemeral nature of elven life compared to such vastness.” The distant look vanished when he met Teldin's eyes, to be replaced by chagrin.
Teldin bowed his head to acknowledge the elf s comment and to show that he had taken no offense. ”Go on, please.” He smiled ruefully. ”As you say, life is short.”The elves' delighted smiles showed appreciation for Teldin's self-deprecating humor, and once again he was struck by the charm and impelling charisma of the moon elves. He could see why this family ruled.
Another sage spoke up, this one an elven woman of middle years. ”Despite such evidence as we have gathered, we cannot know the nature of the Broken Sphere. It may be an actual place, but it may not. It is but one theory, albeit a favored one, of the origin of life. If this theory is correct, it would follow that all answers could be traced back to the Broken Sphere. In essence, your fal was correct in saying this.”
. Teldin listened with growing dismay. Frustration as palpable as a fever flowed through him. If Cirathorn had known all this, why had the elf sent him to the fal?
Teldin slumped in his chair, defeated. ”Then I'm back to where I started.”
”Not necessarily,” said Tseth softly. ”You carry an object of great power. In some way that I do not understand, it is linked to your quest.”
Hadn't the sage heard a word he'd said? wondered Teldin with exasperation. ”The cloak and the s.h.i.+p are linked, yes,” he responded as evenly as he could.
Tseth shook his head. He rose and came over to the table where Teldin sat. ”No, I wasn't speaking of your cloak. You carry another magical object. The power comes and goes, but at the moment I feel it waxing.”
The sage could be referring to only one thing. Teldin reached into the bag at his belt and drew out the medallion Gaye had given him. Immediately he was. .h.i.t with a wall of emotion as overwhelming as a tidal wave. He gripped his forehead with the fingers of his free hand, struggling to ride out the mental storm. Occasionally a random thought or feeling became separate from the cacophony in his mind, and somehow he realized that he was being buffeted by the emotions of every person in the room. When he felt as if he could bear no more, Teldin became aware of a new sound, a voice of incredible power that drove back the mental a.s.sault. Slowly the storm receded. Teldin lowered his hands and tentatively opened his eyes. Tseth stood over him; the saving spell had come from the ancient elf.
The sage extended a wizened hand. ”May I see the artifact?” he asked, and his voice once again held the reedy quaver of age.
Teldin nodded and handed the amulet to the sage.
Holding it in one palm, Tseth wove an intricate pattern in the air above it with the fingers of his other hand. Finally he shook his head and handed it back.
”Nothing,” he said with a touch of surprise. ”Whatever magic it once possessed has almost faded. Can you describe what happened to you just now?”
Teldin did the best he could to explain the sudden a.s.sault of emotion. On impulse, he also described the sudden flashes of insight that had started coming to him since he'd acquired the medallion, and the sage's face lit up.
”An instrument of true seeing,” Tseth murmured. He looked at Teldin. ”It seems to me that the two objects are related. Perhaps the magic of the cloak can augment the medallion's failing power.”
Following Tseth's instructions, Teldin focused on the amulet, concentrating on the sigils engraved on its face and slowly moving into them, through them.
As if from a great distance, he heard gasps of surprise from the elves and he noticed that his cloak had taken on the glowing, red-gold hue of molten bronze. The elven council chamber blurred and faded before the bright light, and Teldin had the notion that reality itself was melting before the cloak's bright magic.
Then he was beyond the cloak, far from his own body, far from the elven kingdom. He saw the blackness of wilds.p.a.ce, sprinkled with unfamiliar groupings of stars. The sense of immediacy was incredible, as if he actually were seeing it through eyes that not only saw, but felt and measured.
Accepting the strange perception as reality, Teldin began to focus intently on the scene before him. The vast, majestic emptiness of wilds.p.a.ce was familiar, but it held dimensions that he had never been able to see before. In the silence was song, and the blackness had depth and texture.
Suddenly the dreamlike quality of his vision exploded into a frenzy of anger and flight. A dragon burst into sight, but such a dragon as Teldin had never imagined. Teldin's vision registered the dragon's opalescent black scales and enormous wings, and his more subtle, magically enhanced senses staggered under the impact of the creature's rage. The serpentlike dragonwheeled and flew away at tremendous speed. Lacking points of reference, Teldin had no idea how big the creature was. Its emotions struck him in a bright burst of power, leaving Teldin with the impression that he had spent a moment in the dragon's mind. The feeling stretched his own mind to the point of explosion. If a small world was sentient, if a star could feel rage, then that might approach the vast intelligence that flickered briefly in Teldin's expanded vision.
So this is how a dragon thinks, he thought dazedly. He might as well have said, So this is what it feels like to be struck by lightning.
The enormity of it shattered Teldin's vision and threw him back into the elven council chamber.
With only his own human senses to gather information, Teldin felt suddenly blinded and silenced. The elves plied him with questions, cautiously at first and then with growing excitement.
He put the medallion down on the table and told them in as much detail as he could remember what he had seen and felt.
Vallus spoke with great wonder. ”I have heard tales of this medallion, but I was not certain of its existence and had no idea it was in your possession. Its magic enables you to see what the Spelljammer has seen.”
Teldin had no idea of what benefit that might be, and he let his expression say so.
”Don't you understand?” Vallus persisted. ”If you can see what the s.h.i.+p sees, you can figure out where it is. The creature you described is a radiant dragon, a very rare being indeed. Perhaps there have been other, recent sightings of this creature. That would give us a general idea of the s.h.i.+p's location. Can you remember anything else that might be used as landmarks? Star formations? Planets? Anything?”
The elf s excitement was contagious. Teldin's hollowed eyes brightened. Determined to try again, he reached for the medallion. Tseth's withered hand captured Teldin's wrist before his fingers could close on the ancient disk.
”No. The use of magic takes a great deal of strength. You are not ready to try again. At any rate, the effort would be to little purpose,” the sage admitted with obvious reluctance. ”The elves of Evermeet have little knowledge of other spheres. We could not tell you what you saw.” it seems to me that our best course would be to proceed to Lionheart,” Vallus said thoughtfully.
Understanding the risk he was taking in revealing such information, he turned to Teldin and explained, ”Lionheart is the secret base of the Imperial Fleet. Elves from many worlds are stationed there. Surely with their combined resources we can find the answers you need.”
Teldin instinctively recoiled from the plan. He was not ready to commit to the elven cause, and he feared that walking into their command center would take this choice out of his hands. With a surge of relief he remembered Hectate and the uncanny knowledge the half-elf had of star charts and navigation. He was sure Hectate could provide the needed answers, but he wasn't about to announce his decision to a room full of elves.
After a long, typically elven discussion, it was decided that nothing more could be accomplished. Queen Amlauril suggested that they break so that Teldin Moore could rest until time for the evening meal. The exhausted Teldin followed an elven aide out of the chamber, feeling as though he were wading through swamp water.
The elf showed Teldin to a guest chamber. His peripheral vision suggested that the room was sumptuously appointed, but his fading attention was focused solely on the bed. Preparing to flop into exhausted slumber, he pulled back the bright silk coverlet and recoiled in surprise. The bed, which had looked solid enough when draped, was a thin mattress that floated roughly three feet from the floor. A childhood image from his grandfather's stories popped unbidden into his mind, a tale of a magic mat that would bear the rider to magical destinations. For all he knew, he could wake up from his nap to find himself in Vallus's Myth Drannor.
He was still debating whether or not to chance sleep when a knock sounded on his door. At his summons Vallus came into the room. ”Am I interrupting your rest?”
Teldin cast a rueful glance toward the bed. ”I doubt I could sleep on that thing.”
The wizard laughed. ”They bear some getting used to. If you're not going to sleep, perhaps we could take a walk before eveningfeast? The palace gardens are lovely.”