Beyong the Moons

Epilogue

Teldin lay resting in a large, overstuffed, and very comfortable bed the gnomes had managed to cobble together for him. It was the first real rest he had enjoyed in days, though it felt more like weeks to him. The cloakmaster’s physical sores and wounds were slowly knitting or fading. The days spent in Krynnspace since the Battle of Spiders, as the gnomes called his victory over the neogi mindspiders, had been quiet and restful.

For several days the Unquenchable had limped along, sailing on a single paddlewheel, which provided little motive power anyway. The gnomes had been working in the ship’s shops to build a new wheel-they were wizards at repairs-but it had been complicated by the usual desire to improve and enhance the basic design. The former farmer did not mind the delay. He was surprised at how much he enjoyed the empty beauty of space. Compared to his recent life on the planet below, the majestic darkness was blessed tranquility.

Now, though, the repairs, or at least a decent jury-rig, were finished, and Ilwar, Niggil, and Broz had come by Teldin’s cabin for a visit. Captain Wysdor was too busy with the repairs, they said.

The three admirals perched on a sea chest, looking at Teldin over the bed’s footboard and holding big mugs of ale with both hands. Finally Ilwar harrumphed importantly and wiped a bit of brew from his black beard.

“Honorary Captain Teldin Moore of Kalaman,” the square-bearded gnome began, using an honorific they had bestowed on the unwilling human, “we were wondering, since you might now want to go home-”

“If you were interested in hearing-” chimed in Niggil. Ilwar cleared his throat again, momentarily silencing his enthusiastic companion. “We though you might want to know our landing procedures. Of course, all our landing procedures are theoretical at this point, but I predict that by slowing the vertical rate of descent while maintaining forward motion, the Unquenchable should be able to land in a body of water, in theory, no less-”

“Posh and nonsense,” countered Niggil, clearly cherishing some pet theory of his own. “The proper method for landing the Unquenchable is to detach the forward hull section and power it separately with a minor helm, then use that part to bring the main hull of the ship down, which we think will float safely in-”

Broz snorted in a slow, lazy sort of way, finally deigning to speak. “In theory, the best method is to stop all forward motion and increase the vertical descent so that-”

Teldin cut them off them with a bemused, if somewhat nervous, laugh. “There’s no need to tell me all this. Tell me, what are your plans for the Unquenchable?”

Ilwar, as solemn as ever, wiggled his bushy eyebrows in surprise at such a question. “Why, the Unquenchable is a scientific vessel designed for exploration and collection of data-”

“And specimens,” Broz interrupted, being positively loquacious.

“And the performance of scientific tests,” Niggil insisted, not one to let scientific matters be disregarded.

“Ahem,” asserted Ilwar, regaining control, “and as such, we will journey the trade routes of the Flow until we return home, so the whole thing is quite simple.” Ilwar was the most concise of the lot.

“I see,” mused Teldin as he sipped on his ale. “Will you be stopping anyplace where there are humans?”

All three nodded in the affirmative, having perfected the new-fangled communication method under Gomja’s command, though Niggil had taken to testing the proper blink rate.

Teldin looked at the cape he still wore wrapped around him. Coming into space still hadn’t let him take it off. The opalescent fabric was the same as ever. Still, he knew now that it was important and that the neogi, or at least some neogi, wanted it very badly.

“Do you want to land someplace, Honorary Captain Teldin Moore of Kalaman?” Ilwar inquired gently, trying not to pressure his human guest. “I would understand if you wanted to go home. Spelljamming may not be your choice for a Life Quest. It is easier for us, for we live to learn and explore.” The old gnome’s insighfful observations surprised the cloakmaster.

Teldin thought about what awaited him on the ground. With Gomja’s sacrifice, going back to Mount Nevermind seemed cold and hollow. Cwelanas was sailing somewhere on the Sirrion Sea. Her eyes and charms tempted him until he remembered the neogi’s leering faces. Teldin sadly realized that he could never go home again-not as long as he wore the cloak. Too many people had died on Krynn to get him this far. Returning now would betray them all.

“I think not,” he explained, smoothing out the blankets with his hands. “There are things out here I need to know, and more that I can learn. No, good admirals, I think it’s time to take the fight to them.” He beamed a huge smile at the three gnomes opposite him.

“Excellent,” Niggil hailed as he hopped to the deck, “now there’s more time to test the cloak!” Teldin Moore felt a sudden twinge of dread as the goggle-eyed gnome sped through the door. “I’ll just go get my equipment!”