The galley was larger and better equipped than any kitchen Teldin had ever seen. The shelves that lined the walls held more steel implements than a battlefield, and the pots and vials and jars and vats suggested a diversity of ingredients that would rival a wizard's laboratory. Elven crew members glided efficiently about the galley, some putting away the remnants of the evening meal and others chopping and mixing in preparation for dawnfry. On one side of the room crouched Om, the gnome technician who had been rescued from Teldin's ship. She was busily engaged in "improving" the vast cookstove, muttering gnomish imprecations as she worked. In the center of the room was a long table used for food preparation. Rozloom sat at the head of the table, his broad posterior distributed over two high-backed stools and his polished boots propped up on another. One meaty bronze hand held a large silver tankard, and a bottle of elven spirits sat on the table beside him. There was no sign of Hectate, but several doors led out of the main galley.

Rozloom caught sight of Teldin and bounded to his feet. "Captain!" he boomed, waving the tankard at Teldin with ebullient good cheer. The gypsy's resonant bass voice rattled the crockery. "My very dear friend! Come in! Sit! Drink!"

Some of Teldin's anger melted under the warmth of Rozloom's extravagant greeting. He remembered that the aperusa, despite his self-absorption, had shown himself to have fairly decent powers of observation. Rozloom might be able to shed some light on the elves' treatment of Hectate.

So thinking, Teldin greeted Rozloom and settled himself on the offered stool. He paled when the gypsy set a half pint of pale amber liquid before him. The elves-who, despite their delicate appearance, had an astounding capacity for potent spirits-traditionally served the stuff in tiny, fluted glasses. In his still-weakened state, Teldin figured that two sips would put him eye-level with the diminutive Om. "You seem to be adjusting to life aboard ship, Rozloom," he observed, unobtrusively pushing his drink aside.

The aperusa resumed his seats and nodded avidly. "And why not?" He took a long pull at his tankard and smacked his lips with gusto. "Fine drink this ship has, good food, and many women." A gleeful leer lit Rozloom's face as he jerked his head toward a lithesome elven woman measuring spices into a huge bowl of batter. He elbowed Teldin companion-ably. "Look and learn, Captain. Your last crew, it had no such women. Without them wildspace is a cold place, yes?" The gypsy punctuated his foray into philosophy with a chuckle and another solid nudge to Teldin's ribs.

An agitated clatter forestalled Teldin's reply. Om picked up the tool she'd dropped and leveled a brown-eyed glare at Rozloom. "No women, eh? And what would you call me?"

Black brows flew upward in genuine surprise. "A gnome?" guessed the gypsy.

Om huffed indignantly and squared her tiny shoulders. Teldin watched, fascinated, as she drew herself up to a regal four feet. He'd never seen Om show interest in anything other than machinery, yet there she was, the very picture of female pique. "Among gnomes, I'm considered very attractive," the tiny woman informed Rozloom with dignity.

The aperusa looked pointedly at the stove parts scattered around the floor. "Among gnomes, you're considered a technician."

Teldin winced and braced himself for the gnome's rejoinder. To his surprise, Om's small brown face relaxed into a coquettish smile. Being a gnome, she'd taken Rozloom's insult as the highest possible praise. She acknowledged the "compliment" with a satisfied nod and returned to her tinkering. Teldin shook his head in silent amazement. The shipboard gossip that had trickled down to Teldin's sickroom had included Rozloom's vow to charm every woman on board. Teldin had considered this to be so much amusing bluster, but subsequent gossip suggested that the aperusa was succeeding more often than not.

Oblivious to his effect on the smitten gnome, Rozloom drained his tankard and wiped his mustache with the back of his hand. "Ah, that is good. You will have more?" When Teldin shook his head, Rozloom shrugged and emptied most of the bottle into his own mug. "So, Captain, to what shall we drink?"

Teldin edged his tankard even farther away from him, hoping to signal his lack of interest in toast-making. "Actually, there's something about Hectate Kir."

Rozloom nodded agreeably. "If you say so, Captain." He raised his mug in salute. "His health!"

Teldin caught the gypsy's wrist while the tankard was still south of the enormous mustache. "No, I have a question about Hectate."

"Ahh." Rozloom set the mug down carefully and folded his arms over his vast belly. His bronze features arranged themselves into a parody of a sage adviser. "What would you know, Captain?"

"Well, to start with, why is he working here in the galley when he's so skilled in navigation? Why do the elves act as if he's not worthy of their notice?"

Rozloom twisted one bushy eyebrow into a sardonic quirk. "That is unusual for an elf?"

Teldin conceded the point, but added, "They are far more cordial to you and me than to Hectate. I can't figure that out."

"It is not so very difficult. These elves of yours, Captain, they do not believe that half an elf is better than none."

"Pardon?"

"Hectate Kir is a half-breed," the aperusa said bluntly. "The elves, they are an ancient people with old ways. They do not like change. A half-elf is a step toward becoming what they are not. They do not see what might be gained, only what is lost." Rozloom held up a finger and waggled it, indicating that an idea had occurred to him. He picked up the almost empty bottle of elven spirits and splashed a little of the amber liquid into another tankard, then he called for a pitcher of water and filled the huge mug to the brim. He presented the resulting pale yellow fluid to Teldin with a theatrical flourish. "Care to drink, Captain?"

Teldin waved away the disgusting stuff. "You've made your point."

"Good," Rozloom murmured distractedly, no longer interested in the lesson. His small black eyes followed an elven woman who was carrying a stack of nested bowls toward what appeared to be a larder. She shot an arch, inviting glance over her shoulder before she disappeared. The aperusa was on his feet instantly, preening his massive beard with an air of anticipation.

"Ah, but hypocrisy is a wonderful thing in an elven woman!" he noted with deep satisfaction. "My apologies, Captain, but you understand?"

Rozloom was gone before Teldin could reply. With amazing speed for one of his bulk, the gypsy made his way across the galley and shut the larder door firmly behind him and his latest conquest.

The strange conversation left Teldin puzzled and suddenly exhausted. He made his way back to his cabin, and was just tugging off his boots when a crisp knock sounded at the door. "Come in," he called wearily.

Vallus Leafbower stepped into the room, resplendent in his blue-and-silver uniform. "You look much different from when we last spoke. I trust you're feeling better?"

"Well, I'm a little tired," he hinted.

"I'll leave you to your rest momentarily. You should know that we make landfall tomorrow, three bells into the first watch."

Suddenly alert, Teldin motioned the elf into the room. "Where are we going?"

"Toril."

Teldrin's blue eyes narrowed. "Why Toril? And don't bother to tell me you were on your way there when you just happened to bump into my ship."

Vallus took the chair at the side of Teldin's cot and faced down the angry human. "We are going to do what I advised you to do months ago: We are going to seek answers to your cloak and your quest from the sages of Evermeet," he said with quiet finality.

"Really. And do I have any choice in the matter?"