It took him a few moments of staring to realize that the colored glasses actually formed pictures. Men and women, three times life-size, strolled through forests of emerald green, under impossibly blue skies, or sat around tables in rooms hung with crimson and gold curtains. In a dozen frames, people dressed in flowing robes of luminous colors did incomprehensible things.

Something tapped Teldin's left hip. With a start, he looked down.

A small figure, dressed in gray shirt and baggy gray pantaloons, stood beside him, staring up at him. Brilliant green eyes flashed out of a weather-tanned face, framed with tightly curling brown hair. The figure was a gnome, quite obviously.

"Are you here for the tour?" the small figure asked, his voice so fast-paced the words almost ran together. "If you are here for the tour, I'm very sorry to tell you there is no tour. There used to be a tour," he went on, without even a breath, "but so few people took the tour that we decided there was little reason to have a tour anymore. So if you're looking for a tour-"

"No," Teldin said sharply, cutting off the torrent of words.

The gnome's eyes opened wide, apparently startled by Teldin's brusqueness.

"No, thank you, Master Gnome," the Cloakmaster went on, less forcefully. "I'm not here for a tour."

The gnome looked relieved. "That's good, because we don't have a tour anymore, but if you'd like to hear more about the stained crystal windows above you, I can certainly tell you. They represent the Golden Age of Learning, when Marrak-may His wisdom always be praised-walked the face of the world, before the Great Truths were all learned, and before…"

Teldin held up his hands, palms out.

The gnome's words trailed off, and he looked puzzled. "You don't want to know about the stained crystal windows?" he asked after a moment. "Then what do you want?"

"I want some books."

The gnome blinked. "Ah, books, is it?" His face suddenly brightened again. "Well, you've come to the right place. As you may or may not know, this is the Great Archive of Crescent, and…"

Again Teldin cut him off. "I know," he said evenly. "That's why I'm here."

"Ah," the gnome repeated. "Ah. Yes. Well." The gnome blew out his cheeks. "What kind of books?"

Teldin sighed. This conversation was going the way all his conversations did when gnomes were involved. "Maybe I should speak to someone in charge," he suggested carefully. "A librarian."

"That's me," the gnome announced with a huge grin, hooking a small thumb toward his chest. "Second Assistant Third Backup Vice-Librarian's Aide (Day) Fazinaleantin Mememelnisikian. You may call me Fazin if you like."

"Fazin," Teldin started, struggling mightily to keep his voice steady, "you're the Second Assistant Third Librarian's Aide-"

"Second Assistant Third Backup Vice-Librarian's-"

"Whatever," Teldin cut him off. Fazin's face fell. "Where's the First Assistant whatever the rest of it was? Or, better yet, the real librarian?"

"I can tell you where they all are," Fazin pointed out.

"Can you do it in five words or less?"

The gnome hesitated for a moment, then started counting on his fingers. "They're… not… on… duty… today-and-they-won't-be-on-duty-for-another-week-or-thereabouts-but-if-you-want-to-come-back-then-you-can-talk-to-them,"he finished in a breathless rush.

Teldin didn't trust himself to speak for a few moments. Although he recognized he was getting much better at talking to gnomes-a very specialized skill, if one wanted to avoid homicide-he still found it rather more taxing than mortal combat. "Can you help me find some books?" he asked at last.

"That's my job."

The Cloakmaster sighed. "Take me to them," he suggested.

*****

Instead of taking Teldin to the shelves of books as the Cloakmaster expected, Fazin led him to a small but comfortable waiting room off the circular hall. The gnome pointed to a small box containing square pieces of paper, a quill pen, and an inkwell. "You write down on the paper the subjects you want to read about," Fazin explained. "Then I go to the indexing system and locate the appropriate books. Then I bring them to you here. It's an efficient process, much better than you trying to use our indexing system yourself. After all," he added with a quick grin, "I've been studying it for six years now, and sometimes it still surprises me. When we get the new indexing system working, things'll be much better, but…" Apparently he saw the impatience in Teldin's face, because he slid the box of papers across the tabletop toward the human. "There," he suggested, "just write down what you want to know."

Teldin looked down at the pen and paper. "Can't I just tell you?" he asked.

Fazin looked scandalized. "You have to write it. That's the system, and the system won't work if you don't follow it."

"Why?"

The gnome was silent for a moment. Then, "I don't know," he admitted, "but that's the system, and I'm sure there's a very good reason for it. There's always a very good reason…" He trailed off, then took a deep breath. "Why don't you just tell me?" he capitulated. "What do you want to know?"

It was Teldin's turn to take a deep breath, to try to relieve the sudden tension he felt in his chest. "The Spelljammer," he breathed. "Get me what you have on the Spelljammer."

Fazin's green eyes opened as wide as they'd go. "You mean the one-and-only-Spelljammer-not-the-lesser-vessels-that-are-also-known-as-spelljammers? Yes, of course you do. Well." He grabbed a piece of paper from the box, scrawled a few indecipherable words on it. "Got to follow the system," he remarked conspiratorially to Teldin. "Would you like them all at once?"

"What?"

"All the books," Fazin explained patiently. "Would you like them all at once, or maybe an easy hundred at a time?"

"What?" Teldin demanded again.

Fazin shrugged. "I assume you want all the information we have on the one-and-only-Spelljammer," he pointed out. "All the books and scrolls in the archive that mention the one-and-only-Spelljammer, well, there must be thousands of them. Now, would you like them all at once?"

"No, no, no," Teldin almost shouted, raising his hands. He struggled to calm himself. "Look," he went on more quietly, "I know there are lots of rumors about the Spelljammer- rumors, myths, legends… What I'm looking for is the truth. Do you have anything like that? Like maybe…"-he gestured vaguely-"like maybe a single book that lists all the things about the Spelljammer that are most likely to be true?"

"An interesting request," Fazin mumbled. "A very interesting request. You know…" His face suddenly lit up. "Do you know, I recall someone making a similar request, oh, it must be almost two years ago now. A purple gentleman with things on his face." He put his hand against his chin with his fingers pointed down, and wiggled them.

Teldin stared, then he smiled. "Did the gentleman give you a name?"

Fazin shook his head quickly. "I think he was in too much of a hurry," he said, "and I didn't want to press him, if you know what I mean."

Teldin nodded slowly. So Estriss was here, almost two years ago, he mused, researching the Spelljammer.

Or, at least, some illithid was, he quickly corrected himself. The odds favored Estriss. From what others had told him about run-of-the-mill mind flayers, another illithid would probably have just taken what it wanted and killed Fazin in the process. But it wouldn't do to count on that fact.

"Did the gentleman find the books he wanted?" the Cloak-master asked.

Fazin nodded. "Two of them," he confirmed. "He was quite impressed with them." He shrugged. "He read many more as well-he was quite a demanding patron, I'll tell you that-but I recall he, um, 'said' that only two were worth the parchment they were scribed on."