"In any case," his companion was saying, "I don't see myself staying here for too much longer. I thought as much when I came back, but I had to be sure. I'll find a ship going somewhere interesting, then shake the dust of Crescent off my feet-probably forever, this time." He smiled at Teldin. "The same for you, I imagine?" he suggested. "If you found what you needed at the Great Archive, of course."

Teldin resisted the urge to pat his belt pouch. "I think so," he said. He was tempted to tell the friendly half-elf exactly what he had found-the problem with operating alone was that he had no one to share his successes with-but he kept silent.

If Djan noticed Teldin's reticence, he gave no sign. "Good, good," he said. "Then you survived the indexing system."

"Barely," Teldin agreed with a laugh. "Gnomes."

Djan chuckled, too, then they sat in companionable silence for a couple of minutes.

As he sipped his nightwine, Teldin surreptitiously examined the half-elf over the rim of his glass. He seems so open, the Cloakmaster found himself thinking, so free of worries and fear, so accepting of whatever Destiny hands him. He doesn't really care where he goes, as long as it's interesting. Interesting, Teldin told himself wryly. His approach to life seems so sane….

"What do you know about spelljamming?" The words were out of Teldin's mouth before he was aware of phrasing the question.

Djan shot him a quizzical smile. "A little, I suppose," he said slowly. "Maybe more than a little. I was second mate aboard a squid ship merchantman out of Mitreland for almost a year." He raised an eyebrow as if to ask why, but he didn't speak the question.

Teldin was silent for a moment. Then, impulsively, he asked, "Would you consider signing on as my first mate?"

Djan didn't answer immediately. Instead, he swirled the nightwine in his glass, watching the slightly viscous liquid form tears on the vessel's inner surface. "What ship?" he asked at last. "And how seasoned is your crew?"

"No ship, and no crew. I came here in a one-man vessel," Teldin elaborated, "but I'm tired of traveling alone. I want to buy a ship and hire a crew."

The half-elf nodded slowly. "And your destination?"

"If you don't mind, I'll tell you once we've set sail," said the Cloakmaster. He smiled tentatively. "I think I can promise you'll find it interesting."

"The finest selling point, Master Brewer," Djan laughed, clapping Teldin on the shoulder. "Or shall I call you 'Captain' now?"

" 'Aldyn' will do," Teldin said carefully, "for now." He thought for a moment, then asked, "Do you have any plans for tomorrow?"

"Ship hunting?" the half-elf guessed.

"Ship hunting," the Cloakmaster confirmed.

*****

Teldin Moore stood on the sterncastle, looking down at the chaos spilling onto the docks from the main deck of the ship.

My ship, he reminded himself, patting the mizzenmast possessively. It wasn't the first ship he'd owned and mastered-the Ship of Fools possessed that dubious honor, or perhaps the elven swan ship Trumpeter, if you followed the letter of maritime law. But he considered this one to be the first ship that was fully his.

It was a squid ship-a big vessel, like the hammership Probe had been-two hundred and fifty feet long, from the tip of its piercing ram to the extremity of its fluked stern. It measured twenty-five feet or so in the beam, with two gaff-rigged masts. Armaments included a heavy catapult in a turret on the forecastle and two aft-pointing medium ballistae mounted just aft of where Teldin stood on the sterncastle. Painted red, like almost all the squid ships Teldin had ever seen, the vessel looked as if it had seen hard use. The decking was scratched and stained, and the planking of the hull showed the many repairs of a ship that had survived its share of battles. The whole vessel was… tired-that's the way it felt to Teldin-and it would take huge amounts of labor to get it shipshape, like the Probe had been under Aelfred Silverhorn.

On the other hand, there was no major damage. Teldin himself had spotted no potential ship-killers-things such as dry rot in the keel, for example, or krajens on the hull-and the more experienced Djan Alantri had confirmed his judgment. The squid ship was spaceworthy.

I wouldn't have managed this so quickly without Djan, Teldin told himself. It was the half-elf who'd picked out the faded red squid ship as a good prospect. It was he who'd handled the negotiations-after Teldin had confirmed to his own satisfaction that the line of credit that Vallus Leafbower had extended to him was accepted on Crescent-and had shaved a good ten to fifteen percent off the price through hard bargaining.

Finally, it was Djan who'd volunteered to handle hiring a crew. Tirelessly he'd done the rounds of the harborside taverns and wineshops, recruiting and interviewing, selecting two dozen or so competent sailors he thought would work together well. Teldin had made sure he'd included primary and backup helmsmen on his "shopping list"-the Cloak-master had no intention of revealing the spelljamming powers of his cloak if he had any alternative-but the half-elf had already covered the requirements.

Teldin-or "Captain Brewer," as everyone called him- stood freely on the sterncastle of his ship, watching his crew load his supplies and prepare the squid ship for space. He shook his head slowly. How I've changed, he told himself. Captain and ship owner? What next?

A quick chill shot through his heart as part of his mind provided an unwanted answer: Nothing different-just a much larger ship.… He took a deep breath, trying to force his sudden anxiety down to a manageable level. Not necessarily, he told himself firmly, the decision's not been made. There are always alternatives….

*****

Before leaving the ship to buy the final, last-minute supplies he'd thought of, Teldin put a few minutes into considering his appearance. For obvious reasons, it wouldn't do to wander the streets of Compact in his black garb. Yet, as "Captain Brewer," master of an armed and provisioned squid ship, the nondescript gray homespun he'd worn to the Great Archive wouldn't do either. After some thought, he compromised, keeping the cut of his real clothes while using the cloak's powers to change them all to gray, and to disguise their costly fabric.

Apparently he'd made the right decision, he decided as he headed back toward the docks. None of the gray-clad Marrakites had cast him so much as a second glance. In the few ship chandleries he'd visited, he'd been treated with some measure of respect-that befitting a ship's captain-yet if the proprietors had labeled him a stranger, they hadn't made an issue of it.

He patted the long rosewood box he carried under his left arm and smiled. After visiting the first two outfitters he'd started to despair of ever finding what he was after. Yet he'd persevered, and at the third establishment the proprietor had responded to his questions, not with a blank look, but by presenting the rosewood box he now carried. The price for the device inside was steep, but Teldin had no doubt it would be worth it.

He'd finally acquired a spyglass, like the one that he'd used aboard the gnomish dreadnought Unquenchable's longboat. He'd thought about the cunning device often, but he'd never had the chance to purchase one until now. He remembered the sense of pleasure he'd felt as he turned it over in his hands in the chandlery, enjoying its substantial weight and its smooth brass finish. He looked forward to showing his new acquisition to Djan.

The blow came out of nowhere, slamming with stunning force into the side of his head. He staggered back as another fist drove into his abdomen. The world spun wildly around him, and his stomach knotted with nausea. Iron-hard hands grabbed his shoulders and upper arms, almost dragging him off his feet. His back, and the back of his head, crashed against something unyielding. The rosewood box containing the spyglass crashed to the road. For an instant he thought he'd fallen backward, but then he realized he'd been driven against a wall. The hands that had grabbed him now released him.