The Broken Sphere (10 page)

Second, at the time the Cloakmaster had felt there was something wrong with the encounter, felt that the leader of the attackers was reciting phrases that were rehearsed, that the man was acting out a role in some play.

Third, and perhaps most telling, was the fact that the attackers hadn’t shown any reaction when he’d used the cloak’s magic to change his appearance. How would most people have responded if the nondescript man they were talking to suddenly changed into a black-clad, piratical-looking figure? With fear and doubt, almost certainly, or at least with shock, but his assailants hadn’t shown even the slightest hint of surprise.

What did all that tell him? His assailants had known who he was – if not what he represented – and at least some of what to expect from him. That, in turn, meant that someone had told them, and hired them to make trouble for the Cloakmaster. There was another possibility, though he decided it wasn’t likely: that his assailants had set up the whole tiling on their own initiative.

The implication was that there was somebody – or several somebodies – in Compact who had serious interest in the movements of “Aldyn Brewer.” The Cloakmaster, in turn, had serious interest in him, or them.

Again he’d disguised his appearance using the cloak, but this time he’d decided to use the full range of the artifact’s abilities. He smirked to himself. Let the people who were after him scour Compact for a thirty-something, sandy-haired human of average height. They wouldn’t give a second glance to a snowy-haired and bearded dwarf, stooped with age.

Teldin’s plan of the moment was simple. By asking around at taverns, ship suppliers, and similar establishments, he would get a line on anyone who’d been showing inordinate interest in the whereabouts or actions of Captain Aldyn Brewer. He’d then track down those people and ask them some hard questions about their interests and intentions.

As he walked along one of the major streets leading to the docks, he wondered again if he should have brought Djan – and maybe some other members of the crew – as reinforcements, or, at the very least, as moral support. No, he thought. This is a task for one.

His plan was working out better than he’d expected. He’d already learned that two individuals had been asking about the “stranger who arrived in the one-man ship.” In fact, the second person he’d spoken to about this – the bartender at a dockside tavern – had given him a description of the people involved.

“A woman, one of them,” the large man had told Teldin. The man casually breathed a warm reek of sour wine into his face. “Didn’t see no face under that cloak of hers, but she sounded real fine. And her bully boy partner – a big sod, couple axe handles across the shoulders, jaw like he could chew granite, and black hair down to his shoulders. Didn’t say nothing, he didn’t, he just looked like he was thinking bad thoughts.” Teldin smiled as he remembered the man’s description. Colorful, he thought, and something I’m not likely to forget.

He’d asked similar questions at several more establishments, building up a mental picture of the pair’s movements. As he’d expected, they’d been quartering the port area of the city, gathering as much information as they could about “Aldyn Brewer.” Now, it seemed, they were heading back toward the docks themselves – specifically to the area of the docks where the Cloakmaster’s squid ship was moored. He smiled to himself. If they were still following the pattern he thought he’d established for their movements, he was pretty sure he knew their next destination – a small wineshop called “Curbert’s,” only a few spear casts from the Cloakmaster’s ship. He picked up his pace, cursing for the moment his choice of a dwarf for his disguise; he’d be making much better time if he had longer legs. If his timing was right, he might be able to set up some kind of ambush for the pair when they emerged from the wineshop.

Curbert’s was less than a dagger cast ahead of him when he saw the front door open and two figures emerge. He slowed his pace immediately to an apparently aimless stroll. Damn it to the hells, he thought, almost.

It was them all right, the pair that the bartender had described. The woman was short, of relatively light build, but that was all he could make out. She wore an ankle-length cloak of light gray homespun, with the cowl pulled forward over her head. If it weren’t for the large figure beside her, Teldin would have paid no more attention to her than to any other Marrakite woman. Her companion was definitely striking, however – striking and familiar. Even though he couldn’t see the big man’s face, Teldin knew it was the same man he’d seen on the street near the Great Archive – the man who’d prompted that strange, inexplicable reaction in the Cloakmaster.

Mentally, he assessed his emotional reactions, in much the same way he might probe a tooth to see if it ached. This time there was no strange aversion; the figure was just another big man … and a big man who didn’t seem to be carrying any weapons, he noted with satisfaction. Teldin let his hand fall to the hilt of his short sword (he’d made sure to bring it this time), which felt more like a broadsword in comparison to his dwarven frame. He picked up his pace, enough to start to close the distance with his quarry but hopefully not enough to draw attention to himself.

The two figures reached the opening of an alleyway that opened to their left, and turned into it. Why? Teldin wondered. To discuss their next step? It really didn’t matter. Getting the two of them off the main street so he could talk to them uninterrupted had stood out in his mind as a major problem, one that they’d unknowingly solved for him. He smiled. With them out of his sight – and hence him out of theirs – he could hurry.

He stopped at the opening of the alley and cautiously looked around the corner. The two figures stood close together, not much more than a spear length from the road, apparently engaged in quiet conversation. All the better. He drew his sword and, holding it steady before him, stepped around the corner. “Greetings,” he said conversationally.

Two heads snapped around, one framed in curly black hair, the other shadowed. The big man turned an indifferent gaze on Teldin, then his eyes widened and he growled, “It is he!” His voice was rough but emotionless.

Suddenly, Teldin was struck with another mental flash. It wasn’t words this time; instead, it was an image as vivid as it was disconcerting. In his mind, the Cloakmaster saw a broad, loose-lipped mouth filled with teeth like daggers. And somehow, he knew that image was associated with the big man before him. Involuntarily, he let his magical disguise fade, revealing his true appearance. He took a step back and leveled his weapon at the man’s belly. “Don’t move,” he barked.

“No.”

It was the cloak-enshrouded woman who’d spoken.

Slowly Teldin lowered his blade and turned to the other figure. She’d thrown back her hood, exposing red hair, which shone in the sun like burnished copper. Her white teeth flashed in a smile he hadn’t seen since he and Aelfred had set down on the Rock of Bral. Even after all this time, however, all his recollections of this woman – her laugh, her sudden enthusiasm, even the way her hair swung around her neck – were as fresh as if they’d been formed just the day before.

A torrent of conflicting emotions flooded through him: surprise, doubt, excitement, fear, paranoia … but, most of all, a piercing, bittersweet emotion that he tried to suppress before he had to admit its nature.

“I hear you’re hiring a crew,” the woman said. “Are there any berths still open?”

Schooling his expression to neutrality, he replied, “Let’s talk. Come back to the ship with me, Julia.”

*****

The large compartment in the “head” of the squid ship was officially the captain’s cabin; so Djan had told him. It was so large, however, with two big, circular ports that made up the vessel’s “eyes”, that Teldin had felt uncomfortable keeping it for his sole use. Against his first mate’s suggestions, he’d had the crew move a table in there as well as his personal effects, so it could double as an officers’ meeting room. When the arrangements were made, the resemblance to the saloon aboard the
Probe
was enough to make him smile.

Right now, however, Teldin Moore wasn’t smiling. He and Djan sat at one end of the table. Julia – who’d doffed her gray cloak to reveal a green jerkin that perfectly set off the copper of her hair – sat at the other. Behind her and to one side sat the big man, who Julia referred to as Beth-Abz. He was handsome. Broad of shoulders and square of jaw, with thick black, curly hair down to his shoulders, he looked like the very quintessence of the heroic warrior. So far he hadn’t said a word aboard the ship and seemed satisfied just to watch everything with calm interest. Every now and again, Teldin shot him a curious look. The strange image of a tooth-filled mouth hadn’t recurred, and the Cloakmaster could determine no reason for it to have happened in the first place. He set that train of thought aside and returned his attention to Julia.

The attractive woman shifted in her seat uncomfortably. “I know,” she said tiredly, “I know what it looks like, but I didn’t follow you here.” She opened her hands, palms up. “I didn’t even know you were here, Teldin. I heard yesterday at the White Elf tavern that ‘Aldyn Brewer’ was hiring a crew. Honestly, I’m as surprised as you are.”

“You talked to people at other places as well,” he said sharply, “not just the White Elf.”

“Of course.” Her tone was almost impatient. “I wanted to find out as much about what you were up to as possible. I had to …” She paused, looking away uncomfortably. “I had decisions to make.”

Teldin was silent for a moment. He wanted to believe her. They’d been friends and comrades aboard the
Probe.
After the death of the treacherous Rianna Wyvernsbane, there’d been the strong hint they could become considerably more. But then Julia had left the
Probe’s
crew and signed on with another vessel setting sail from the Rock of Bral.

He could understand why; even though she’d never said it straight out, she’d hinted at it often enough. Teldin Moore would never be free to follow his own path, she feared. Even if he didn’t subsume his own desires and ambitions to the “enforced destiny” that the cloak seemed to carry with it, the fact that enemies would always be pursuing him implied that he’d always be
reacting,
not
acting.
It was a very limited existence; she’d said that often enough. It was also an existence – and this she’d never actually said – that held little space in it for Julia. Unwilling or unable to put herself through what a relationship with Teldin would involve, she’d gone off alone – leaving behind a note reading, “It’s better this way,” and a lock of copper hair nestled in the fold of the parchment. She’d also left behind a lot of memories, of course.

He
wanted
to believe her, yet there was still the fact of the six “alley bashers” who’d assaulted him. He was still convinced they’d got their information from someone who knew all too much about Teldin Moore, and here was someone from his past who definitely fit that description. “How did you come to Crescent, Julia?” he asked quietly.

Her hopeful half smile faded. She shrugged. “I signed on with a merchantman setting sail from the Rock to the world of Nivil,” she explained, “a safe billet but a dull one. Remember, at the time I didn’t really care where I was headed. I just needed to keep myself busy.” She shot him a quick glance from under her copper bangs.

“When we set down on Nivil,” she continued, “I was offered a commission as second mate, but I knew I’d die of boredom if I took it. So I signed on with a small ‘package trader’ who was bound for Radole.”

Teldin jerked upright in his chair.
“Radole?”

Julia sighed. “I know, I know, you visited Radole, too. I know what it sounds like, but I didn’t know you were there, Teldin,” she went on earnestly. “You’d already left when I arrived.”

“But you knew I’d
been
there,” Teldin pointed out sharply.

“Of course I did,” Julia admitted sadly.
“Everyone
did. Just about every rumor I heard on the docks was about the human ‘admiral’ sailing on an Imperial Fleet vessel … and one that got itself badly chewed up, at that. Not many people knew your name, but they knew enough about the ‘admiral’ for me to make a good guess as to who it was.

“But I didn’t know where you were headed next,” she concluded firmly.
“Nobody
did. You covered your tracks well.”

“You’re here.” Teldin’s voice was almost a whisper.

For the first time, Julia’s eyes flashed with anger. “I know, damn the gods’ eyes,” she snapped. “I was planning to stay on Radole for a while, but
you
screwed that up, even though you weren’t there anymore. I had to get busy again. I couldn’t give myself time to think that maybe I’d made a wrong decision.” She glared at him. “Do you know what I’m saying?”

For a moment Teldin was silent, then, “Yes,” he said, nodding, “I know. But, how …”

“How come I’m here?” Julia shrugged again. “There was another merchantman setting sail the next day for Crescent. No other vessel I’d ever consider crewing on was leaving for a week, so I didn’t have much choice. I came to Crescent.”

Teldin snorted. “So I’m supposed to accept it’s just coincidence that you’re here? And that you were asking around about me?”

“Coincidence?” Julia bared her teeth in an expression that was more snarl than smile. “I don’t think the word has any meaning around you, Teldin Moore,” she stated. “I think you
make
coincidences, because of what’s happened to you, and what and who you are. I’m sorry if I’m saying things that you don’t want spoken aloud” – she looked meaningfully at Djan – “but I’ve got to say them. I can’t
not
say them any longer.

“I think you warp the laws of probability, Teldin,” she went on, warming to her theme. “You and … what it is that makes you who you are. Think back on all the ‘coincidences’ – happy
and
sad – that have happened to you and around you. Do you honestly believe they were caused by pure luck? You’d have to be stupid … and you’re
not
stupid.

“The universe is huge, Teldin Moore, more vast than any of us can imagine. Yet you’ve kept ‘coincidentally’ meeting people who’ve channeled your destiny in new ways, focused them toward a goal. How probable is that, going on chance alone? I know it sounds ridiculous – even I don’t believe it all the time – but your destiny might be so strong that it overwhelms the normal laws of chance.”