The view changed again. A small, bright disk-little more than a point-of burning, blue-white light rose above one limb of the dark red world. Sunrise on a sun…

*****

Without warning, the strange vista collapsed in upon itself. There was a wrenching sense of discontinuity, then information from Teldin's normal senses flooded back into his mind.

He opened his eyes and looked into the concerned faces of his two friends. Setting the amulet down on the table, he wiped pinpoints of cold sweat from his brow. His fingers were trembling, he realized, and his heart pounded as if he'd run a footrace.

Why? he asked himself. Why did using the amulet sometimes take so much more out of him than others? Was it something to do with distance-and did that then mean the Spelljammer was a great distance away?-or was it something else? There was so much about the amulet, and its relationship with the Spelljammer and the ultimate helm, at he didn't understand.

"Well?" Julia asked. "Anything?"

"I think so." Teldin's voice sounded tired in his own ears. from the solicitude that showed in his friends' expressions, he guessed he looked as bad as he sounded… if not worse. "Maybe something important." He went on to de-scribe what he'd seen in as much detail as he could. "I can't imagine that there could be more than one place like that in the universe," he concluded dryly.

"I think you're right," Djan said. His voice was quiet, but held a timbre of tightly controlled excitement. "A fire world a half day's flight in diameter, with a fire ring," he went on, ticking points off on his fingers. "A dark spot-maybe some kind of weather pattern, you think. And all orbiting a smaller, blue-white sun. I think it has to be Garrash."

"Garrash," Teldin echoed. "You've been there?"

"I didn't say that," the half-elf corrected. "I read about it once in the Geonomicon-that's a book describing almost a hundred of the more fascinating worlds ever discovered- but your description definitely matches what I remember."

"Where is Garrash?" Teldin demanded. "Near here? Far?"

"I don't remember," Djan admitted, shaking his head.

Julia stood. "I'll bring a chart," she said, heading aft.

She was back quickly. With Djan helping, she spread it but on the table and pored over it for a minute. Teldin felt impatience growing within him, but he knew better than to hurry the copper-haired woman.

Finally she straightened up. "Garrash is in a crystal sphere called Vistaspace," she said, "over here." She tapped a dark circle near one side of the chart.

"And where's Nex?" Teldin asked.

"It's not shown on the chart, of course," she answered slowly, "but it's over here." She laid a finger on a region of the chart near the opposite edge.

Teldin felt his face fall. "How far's that?" he asked, dreading the answer.

"Far." It was Djan who'd replied. He craned over the table for a better look. "We can pick up a couple of phlogiston , rivers-to Pathspace, for example, and from there to Prime-space. That'll save a lot of time over the direct route…" His voice trailed off.

"But… ?° the Cloakmaster prompted.

Djan looked up, meeting Teldin's gaze steadily. "But," he continued, "we're still talking about a total voyage of… "- he glanced questioningly at Julia, as if to confirm what he was about to say-"of thirty days, maybe thirty-five?" Julia nodded slowly in agreement.

"And that doesn't include moving around within Vista-space once we're there," the half-elf added. "The chart says it's a big sphere. We don't know how Garrash's orbital plane is aligned, or where the planet's going to be in relation to where we enter the crystal sphere. But actually getting to the planet's going to add another… well, call it thirty days to be safe. Total voyage time…"

"Sixty days or more," Teldin finished for him. His excitement over Djan's recognition of what he'd seen was gone, and depression threatened to wash over him again. "Two months. It's unlikely that the Spelljammer's going to be there in two months."

"I know." Djan laid a hand on the Cloakmaster's shoulder, gripped hard, "I understand. It's a slim chance, I suppose… "But a slim chance is better than none," Teldin elaborated, "that's what you're saying."

"Isn't it?" Julia asked quietly.

The Cloakmaster was silent for a few moments, lost in his own thoughts. Then he nodded. "Yes," he said. Then, again, more firmly, "Yes, it is." He turned to Djan and drew himself up to his full height. "First mate, pass word to the helmsman and navigator. Set course for Vistaspace and Garrash."

The half-elf snapped into a salute. "Aye, Captain."

One advantage of the long voyage was that the crew of the Boundless Possibilities had plenty of time to conduct the repairs the ship desperately needed. In an example of the foresight that Teldin had come to expect of his first mate, before the ship had lifted from Crescent, Djan had loaded much of the cargo hold with planking of the same kiln-dried hardwood that made up the squid ship's hull. Now, with two months of sailing ahead of them, the crew was kept busy-and out of trouble, Djan had pointed out-nailing the planking into place to repair the hull breaches caused by the magical attack and the crash-landing on Nex.

During the first couple of days in the Flow, the half-elf had gone over the ship from stem to stern, listing all the areas that needed attention. Although the crew members had groaned almost as one when they'd initially seen the first mate's task list posted in the mess, they now seemed designed to the work. In fact, Teldin mused, they seemed to relish it in a way. He thought he could understand why, he decided after some reflection. Probably the greatest danger to a crewman on a protracted voyage was boredom. With nothing to do but think, there was a real danger he'd drive himself to distraction.

And that, Teldin told himself firmly, is just what I'm doing. As captain, there was basically nothing for him to do, nothing but think.

Oh, he could talk to members of the crew. Beth-Abz's stores of life in a beholder tyrant ship were particularly fascinating-terrifying, in fact-giving him an insight into the strange race of eye tyrants he'd never expected to gain. But everyone except he had duties to attend to, and Teldin knew enough to realize that he couldn't expect his crew to neglect those duties just so that they could keep their captain company.

Even Djan and Julia had their tasks-mainly supervisory, monitoring the crew's repair work, but nonetheless vital for that. They both seemed to sense their friend's growing ennui, his discomfort, and they did what they could to help lessen it. When they'd finished their duties for the day, they'd often join Teldin in his cabin for a glass of sage-coarse-the Cloakmaster was drinking a fair bit of that again-and conversation. But they'd always tire before he did, worn out by their work about the ship. He'd see them start yawning, struggling to keep their eyes open. And then he'd "release" them, let them hit their bunks for some much-needed sleep.

And then he'd be alone again in his cabin, just him and the sagecoarse.

Like I am now, he told himself, twenty days into the voyage, with another forty-some to go. At the moment, it seemed like an eternity.

He'd pulled one of his cabin's chairs over to the starboard porthole, giving himself a panoramic view of the Flow surrounding the ship. A half-empty glass of sagecoarse sat on the corner of the table, within easy reach. Julia and Djan had just left, heading for their bunks. It was just after one bell in the night watch-past midnight, according to the groundling clock Teldin still preferred-but he wasn't ready for sleep yet. His thoughts were churning as though they had lives of their own. No matter how hard he tried to relax, he couldn't still them, or even ignore them. Even worse, he'd reached the point where his attempts to relax-and his anxiety over his failure-were actually fueling the tension he was trying to combat. A vicious circle, he told himself.