The Spelljammer sailed through that? Teldin found himself wondering. And what about the other shapes-ships or whatever they were-he'd seen cruising within the ring? It boggled the imagination.

He turned away from the view, stared out into the star-specked blackness. Where are you? he asked mentally. Where?

"Ship ahoy!" Harriana's voice echoed down from the repaired crow's nest.

Her words jolted Teldin like an electric shock. The Spelljammer! "Where?" he yelled,

"Low off the stern, starboard," the halfling called. "In the fire ring."

Teldin sprinted to the aft rail on the starboard side and pivoted the ballista aside to give himself more room. He leaned over the rail, looking aft and down, past the broad spanker sail.

Yes, there it was, a darker shape moving within the liquid fire of the ring. Was it the Spelljammer?

No, the configuration was all wrong. No manta shape, this, but a broad-based triangle with an extended, sharp apex. As he stared in shock and amazement, the apex emerged from the ring, liquid fire dripping off it. Metal, it looked like, finest steel polished to a mirror finish.

The rest of the-the thing-emerged into the vacuum, and he could see it clearly for the first time, a cylindrical body or hull, maybe a hundred feet long, maybe a little more, sprouting broad, knife-edged wings that spanned at least one hundred and fifty feet. The tips of the triangular wings bore sharp, forward-pointing spines or spears dozens of feet long. The whole thing seemed to be made of the same mirror-polished steel as the apex.

A ship made completely out of steel? Capable of surviving-and keeping its crew alive-in the depths of the fire ring?

Teldin sensed a presence next to him-Djan. "What in all the hells is it?" he whispered.

The half-elf shook his head. His face was pale, his eyes wide with wonder, or perhaps fear. "I don't know," he answered slowly, "I've never seen, never heard of, anything like that before. I can't even guess what race could build a ship like that."

The broad-winged metal ship moved slowly, cruising parallel to the rippled surface of the ring. Although he couldn't see any portholes-and there definitely couldn't be any open decks!-Teldin imagined he could feel the vessel's crew scrutinizing the squid ship. Then, smoothly, the metal ship's bow lifted, pointing directly toward the Boundless, and it began to accelerate.

"Battle stations!" Djan screamed. "Man all weapons!"

Feet pounded the decks as the crew hurried to obey. Teldin moved farther forward, getting out of the way of the gunners who began to prepare the twin ballistae.

The first mate turned to Teldin. "Captain… ?"

"Bring us around," the Cloakmaster answered after a moment's thought. "Bring the bow toward it."

Djan paused, then nodded and relayed the order through the speaking tube to the helmsman. Teldin could understand the first mate's hesitation. Normally, aligning the bow with an approaching vessel would allow the squid ship's main weapon-its forward catapult-to come to bear, but it would limit the ship's maneuverability if it needed to escape. The half-elf had realized, however, that the Cloakmaster's unusual control over the Boundless-through the ultimate helm-would compensate for that disadvantage.

"And get Beth-Abz up on deck," Teldin added, "just in case."

The bearing to the knife-edged metal ship began to change as the squid ship's bow came around. As Teldin watched, the strange vessel maneuvered, too-much smoother than he'd seen any other ship change course-to keep its own bow pointing directly at the Boundless. It continued its acceleration for a few seconds, then settled down on a fast-though not incontrovertibly aggressive-approach course.

Djan had brought the Cloakmaster's spyglass to bear on the vessel. Now he lowered it, his expression one of profound puzzlement. "No obvious weapons," he said quietly. "And no portholes, no hatches, no way of getting in or seeing out." He shook his head. I've never seen anything even vaguely like this."

Teldin stared at the strange ship. Now no more than half a league off, it had started to decelerate again, slowing its silent approach. Its mirror finish reflected the yellow light of the fire ring and the ruddy red of the planet below. It gleamed in the firelight, occasionally flashing with almost intolerable brightness as the light reflected off facets on its surface.

What are you? Teldin thought fiercely. What?

Then, suddenly, thoughts and images blasted into his mind. He clutched at his head with both hands, as though to keep his skull from splitting under their ferocious impact. His stomach knotted, and he almost doubled over with the pain of it.

What am I? The voice, echoing in his brain, carried a sense of almost ludicrous surprise. What am I? I am.

Through the bolts of agony that still lanced through his body, Teldin felt Djan's supporting hand on his shoulder. He looked into his friend's concerned face. "What is it?" the half-elf asked. "What's wrong?"

Teldin took a deep breath, tried to force his pounding heart to slow. "It's talking to me," he whispered.

"What is?"

Only as the words emerged from his lips did Teldin recognize the truth. "The ship." He pointed with a trembling finger. "That ship."

The titanic voice boomed again into his brain. What are you? it asked. Come closer, so I can see-hear-sense you better.

"The ship," Teldin breathed again. "It's alive, but that means it's not a ship."

"What?" Djan shook his head in disbelief. "What?"

"I'm bringing us in closer," the Cloakmaster told him, struggling to keep his voice firm and under control.

"You're doing what?"

"Bringing us closer," Teldin repeated. "Get Dranigor to release the helm."

He could see conflicting emotions warring across his friend's face. Concern, fear, denial… But, then, finally, he saw Djan's expression settle into one of acceptance. Without another word to the Cloakmaster, he crossed to the speaking tube and issued the order to the helmsman.

Teldin extended his will, focused it through the ultimate helm, and exerted it upon the ship. The Boundless started to move, slowly, toward the metal object.

Filtered through the expanded perception of the helm, the metal ship-being's mental voice didn't seem as "loud" or overwhelming. I can sense you better now, it said, and again the words were tinged with surprise, this time alloyed with intense curiosity. You are of a primitive form, your species, and you seem to be injured. Yet your voice is strong, your presence distinct. How can that be? I sense you suffer from the same infestation as those who have come before you. Explain this to me.

Teldin shook his head, confounded. The words were clear, but the meaning was the exact opposite. The statement about his species, his "primitive form"… Perhaps a creature of living metal might consider a human primitive. He could almost understand that. But what was that about injury? Teldin wasn't injured. And he certainly wasn't suffering from any kind of "infestation."

Djan was by his side, his eyes full of questions.

"It's speaking to me through the cloak," Teldin explained quietly, "like the People did on Nex. It's alive, Djan! It has a mind." Like the Spelljammer? he asked himself.

He turned his attention back to the metal being. It had stopped and was now hanging in space less than a league ahead of the Boundless. Even though the "voice" currently wasn't speaking, he could still sense puzzlement and curiosity through the mental link.

"I am Teldin Moore," he said softly, focusing the meaning of his words through the cloak, "captain of the Boundless Possibilities."

And I am Zat, of the fire ribbon of Garrash, the "ship" replied, as are my fellows. The voice paused. 'Captain'? A strange designation. What does it mean? And what are these 'boundless possibilities' you refer to?