The Radiant Dragon

Chapter Six

Hectate Kir stood staring into wildspace, absently flattening the crown of his red-brown hair. The half-elf s cowlick popped back up after each pass. The ineffectual battle would have been almost comical if Teldin had been in the mood to be amused.

Teldin excused himself from the illithid with the promise to meet him later for a longer chat. Still feeling a bit unsteady, he made his way over to the rail. Hectate acknowledged his arrival politely, and they exchanged the usual expressions of concern before silence overtook them. For many long moments they stared into wildspace with eyes that saw only the past.

Hectate was the first to speak. "I imagine you want to know more about the battle," he stated quietly.

"Yes. I've been sorting through all that's happened, trying to make some sense of it. I couldn't help wondering how… That is to say, exactly what…" Teldin's voice trailed away, and he gestured helplessly. There simply wasn't any tactful way to word his question.

"You want to know what I am," Hectate said bluntly.

Teldin nodded, a little embarrassed by the half-elfs candor but relieved to have the issue on the table.

"You have heard of the first Unhuman War," Hectate began softly, looking fixedly off into wildspace.

Again Teldin nodded, this time with resignation. Hectate might be a half-elf, but he obviously shared the elven fear that some small part of a story might be omitted.

"During that time, both elves and goblinkin built terrible weapons of destruction. A few elves volunteered to become such weapons. Through a magical process that has since been deliberately forgotten, these elves were transformed. In appearance they were indistinguishable from other elves, but they had the ability to change into a creature such as… such as the one you saw aboard the Nightstalker."

Hectate paused and met Teldin's eyes. The half-elf s face was sad but resigned as he awaited his captain's reaction. Teldin wasn't sure what was expected of him, but he nodded encouragingly. "Go on."

The half-elf s eyes widened with surprise. He blinked several times, then cleared his throat. "These creatures were, of course, my ancestors. The elves named us bionoids, the suffix implying that we were a lifelike form, not a true life-form. The bionoid troops were a pivotal force in winning the war, but after victory was achieved, the 'living weapons' were found to have a serious flaw. We are alive. For centuries we have lived, struggling with our inherent contradictions but teaching each new generation to live in peace. Because we are living beings and not intelligent, undead weapons, the elves consider us a mistake. Elves, as a rule, prefer not to acknowledge their mistakes."

The words were softly spoken, and to Teldin's ears they held a remarkable lack of bitterness. "I'm sorry," he said, not knowing what else to say.

A sad smile crossed Hectate's face. "There is no need to be. I am reconciled to what I am, and there are a few-such as yourself-who seem to accept me as such."

Teldin reached out and briefly clasped Hectate's shoulder, a comrade's gesture that answered the unspoken question. Hectate's answering smile still held uncertainty.

"What do we do now, Teldin Moore?" he asked. "I've heard that the Imperial Fleet has put the Trumpeter at your disposal."

That was news to Teldin. "Where'd you hear that?"

"In the mess. I overheard some of the elves talking."

Teldin let out a slow whistle. "I don't imagine they were happy about it," he said dryly.

"No, sir, they weren't," Hectate agreed.

Teldin's mind whirled with the implications of this news. So the elves planned to give him a ship. If this were true, he had a whole new set of problems. Feeling a sudden need for support, he turned his back on wildspace and slouched wearily against the railing. The Imperial Fleet might not have originally intended to hold him against his will, but it probably hadn't occurred to the arrogant elves that he might not accede to the wisdom of their plans, or accept their offer with suitable gratitude. Once they got over the shock of his refusal, who knew what they might do?

Hectate cleared his throat and added, "If you can arrange for the Trumpeter to put down as soon as possible, sir, I'll sign on with another ship. The crew would not be happy to have a bionoid aboard."

"Who says they have to know?" Teldin asked bluntly.

Hectate's mouth dropped open, then closed with an audible click. "But-"

"And for that matter," Teldin continued with more resolve, "who says I have to take them up on their offer? I plan to continue my search for the Broken Sphere, but I'd prefer to do it on another ship, my own ship. When I do, I'd like you to be on that ship." He paused, searching for the right words. "I need people with me whom I can trust. When you're, well, yourself, you're a fine navigator, and as a bionoid you're among the best fighters I've seen."

"I'm always a bionoid," Hectate corrected softly. "My outer form may alter, but the dual nature is always within."

An image of a ten-foot, invincible insect flashed into Teldin's mind, bringing with it echoes of the terror he'd felt when the creature first approached him. He was surprised that the memory was as reassuring as it was unnerving. "I need you with me," he repeated. When Hectate hesitated, Teldin asked, "Are you saying you would prefer not to sail with me?"

The half-elf shrugged. "Considering what I've just told you about myself, I would not blame you if you didn't want me to."

"That's not the issue," Teldin said with a touch of impatience. "What is it, Hectate? Do you have other plans? Or maybe you think the search for the Broken Sphere is a waste of time?"

Hectate gave the matter such a lengthy consideration that Teldin began to think his hastily spoken words touched on truth. "For me, no," Hectate finally said. "You might remember that I jumped at the chance to sign on with a long voyage of exploration."

"But for me?" Teldin pressed.

"I don't know," the bionoid replied honestly. "You have told me only that you seek answers to a personal quest, and that you are pursued by dangerous foes. Knowing so little, I could hardly advise you one way or the other."

Teldin had to acknowledge the truth in Hectate's reasoning. He had spoken of his trust in Hectate, but he had extended little. If he wanted Hectate to continue with him- and he was surprised to realize how much he wanted this- he would have to trust the half-elf.

"I have a story of my own," Teldin began, fingering the edge of his cloak. "About a year ago-that is, as time is reckoned on my homeworld-I lived on Krynn, making my living as a farmer. A spelljammer crashed on my farm, and the dying reigar captain handed me this cloak, insisting I keep it from the neogi and take it to the creators. I've been trying to do just that ever since."

Hectate observed Teldin carefully as he spoke. "And you hope to find at the Broken Sphere the answers to these creators?"

"That was once my goal, yes," Teldin admitted. "Finding the cloak's rightful owner and getting the burden off my own shoulders was all I could think of. As time went on, though, it began to look as though I might well be the rightful owner. Everyone who wants the cloak-and that includes pirates, illithids, arcane, scro, neogi, even the elves-has shown less than perfect motives."

"Why do they want this cloak?" the bionoid asked, eyeing the black garment with mild interest.

"It's the key to the Spelljammer," Teldin said tersely. "The cloak I'm wearing is an artifact, thought to be the Cloak of the First Pilot. According to the best information I've been able to get, whoever wears the cloak can control the Spelljammer- provided, of course, that they can find it," he added dryly.

"Then the old stories are true," Hectate said, and wonder shone in his voice and his eyes. "When I was a child, I heard tales about a ship as big as a small world, which escaped its crystal shell like a chick coming from an egg. Do the two stories fit together? Could this be the Broken Sphere we seek?"

Teldin warmed to the bionoid's "we," and he met Hectate's gaze squarely. "It's possible. The only thing that the fal-the giant slug sage, but that's another story-told me, was that I could find answers to the Spelljammer at the Broken Sphere, and since that's the best lead I've had so far, I've got to take it. Before someone beats me to it, I have to find the ship and take command."

The bionoid thought this over for several long moments, then he nodded in grave agreement. "Yes, I think you should. But, if I might ask, to what purpose?"

Teldin blinked, stunned into silence by Hectate's words.

He dimly remembered that Vallus had said something like that, but Hectate's calm, reasonable question brought the reality of his situation home. He finally had accepted his destiny as Cloakmaster, but now he saw that acceptance was not nearly enough. His destiny was his to shape, and Hectate had a valid point: To what purpose?

"The elves want me to join their war effort," Teldin admitted carefully, steeling himself for Hectate's reaction.

Hectate merely nodded as if he had anticipated this answer. "Many of my people fight alongside the elves," the bionoid said.

That seemed incredible, given what Hectate had told him about the elven attitudes toward Hectate's race. "And against the elves?" Teldin asked, looking his friend in the eye.

"Some, yes." Hectate's gaze was steady, giving away nothing.

Teldin raked a hand through his hair. "How do you stand?" he asked outright. "Look, I'm sorry if I offend you, but this is a time for plain speaking."

Again the half-elf turned his sad smile toward wildspace. "If the truth must be told, I had hoped to avoid taking a stand either way." He glanced up at Teldin. "You were too ill to notice, but I kept to myself for the first days after the battle. It is traditional after the Change for a bionoid to spend a period of time mourning the lives he has taken. We don plain silver robes, meditate, and cleanse our souls from the stain of blood. We are a gentle people who kill efficiently but with great regret." Hectate's face took on a faraway look. "I had hoped to put away my silver robes."

Teldin absorbed this, understanding the half-elf s feelings but still saddened by them. "And that won't happen if you stay with me," he concluded.

"Probably not," Hectate agreed. The eyes he turned back I to Teldin held resignation and the sadness of a dream deferred. "But you soon will get your own ship, and you will need a navigator to help you on your quest. And once you succeed?" He shrugged as if trying to make light of the matter. "Even the Spelljammer needs to be told where to go, I imagine."

"But if I decide to stand with the elves?" Teldin pressed.

"Then I will stand with you, Teldin Moore." The half-elf extended his hand, offering a pact. "You trusted me. To one of my race, that is a rare gift. In return, I'll trust your decision."

Startled but deeply moved, Teldin took the offered hand in a firm grip, and the first genuine smile in many days brightened his face. Wanting to put the conversation on a lighter, happier footing, he switched to a topic dear to Hectate's heart: food. "Now that the future's settled, maybe you'd care to join me for eveningfeast?" he asked. "I hear Rozloom is galley master tonight."

Hectate answered him with one of his rare, elfin grins. "Just when I'd concluded that this ship had nothing to offer."

Wrapped in a magical cloak of secrecy, the invisible shrike ship darted after the star-traveling swan. The disgruntled crew mates listened sullenly to the captain's explanation of their new mission.

"Our liaison, Lord K'tide, has requested that we follow the human," Wynlar began. "The human may have changed ships, but that does not alter our orders. Drakkar or swan ship, it matters not. K'tide is depending on us to report the human's movements, as the informant's messages have not proven sufficient."

"What does baby-sitting an elven ship have to do with the Armistice mission?" demanded Tekura. The silver-haired technician flipped an exasperated gesture toward the white, tufted tail of the swan ship. "We should be outfitting the orcs, not trailing some human. The swan ship is heading toward Toril, and each wasted day takes us farther from our goal."

"And what have we to show for this little detour?" the wizard Zeddop whined. "Obscure messages about a broken sphere and a cloak that changes color. Bah!"

The captain's angular, elflike face betrayed his discomfort. "I do not know all that K'tide has in mind. He said only that the cloak is important, not to our current alliance with the orcs, but to some later strike against the elves. K'tide promised to say more when the time is right."

"And you accepted that?" Zeddop sniffed, and his thin lips twisted with scorn. "You always were a bit too credulous, little brother."

Wynlar turned to glare at the wizard. "What would you have me do? K'tide is a necessary intermediary. Would you rather deal directly with the scro?"

His challenge was met with silence, and after a moment he sighed deeply. "I know that this new development is difficult, but we have given pledge loyalty to K'tide, and we are honor-bound to carry out his plans."

"Whatever they may be," Zeddop murmured in the manner of one who must get in the last word.

Tekura came to stand at Wynlar's side. She gave her foster-father's arm a reassuring squeeze. "We know that K'tide desires the destruction of the elves. As long as we are working to that end, we can do whatever is required."