You are greeted. The sensation of the beast's words in Teldin's mind was nothing at all like that when he had once

Chapter Fourteen

"Are those the scro?" Teldin asked, pointing aft at the swarm of distant objects on the horizon. He felt like a fool to ask, but he wanted to be sure.

"That they are, sir!" Gomja shouted, unnecessarily loudly. "We're clearing the deck for helm changeover, so you'll have to come inside! You, too, Mister Jammermaker!"

Teldin quickly got to his feet and headed for the open hatch, still not entirely comfortable to be walking around on the open deck so far from the ground. "We found the fal!" he called. "It's off that way, ahead but up and to the right, to starboard!" He looked down at Dyffed, but the gnome was busy watching the approaching fleet through his thingfinder. Teldin grabbed the gnome by the shoulders and propelled him toward the hatch.

One minute later, Teldin pulled the hatch shut behind him and bolted it tight, then descended the last few rungs on the ladder to the deck. He fought down a brief surge of claustrophobia, telling himself that one day he wouldn't have to face being cooped up in a gnomish ship ever again-at least, not if the gods were kind.

"We've been going too slowly for too long, sir," Gomja said, checking Teldin's bolting of the hatch. He climbed down the ladder, looking grim. "Aelfred wants to pull Loomfinger off the helm and put Sylvie back on. You should go to your cabin during changeover. I believe we'll have some trouble there, but it shouldn't last long. I'll handle everything else around here."

"I can give a hand, I'm sure," Teldin started to say. The huge giff shook his head vigorously. "That won't be necessary. We're not going to go above to shoot back at the scro this time. We lack the troops, and the wind will be too great when Sylvie takes over. Just-"

The door into the room banged open unexpectedly. An overweight, sweating gnome hurried into the room, panting as if he'd run a long distance, and bounced off Gomja's massive left leg before coming to a stop. "Teldin Mayor," he announced, red faced and out of breath. "Captain Albert Silverhand requests-no, wait. Captain Albert Silverhorn requests your-Captain Aelfred Hornsilver requests-oh, bother! The captain would like to see you in the helm room right away if you have a moment for an emergency now, unless it's a bother."

Gomja appeared stunned for a moment at the message but quickly recovered himself. "Calm yourself and get your message straight, Private," Gomja ordered the gnome. The gnome immediately sat down and tried to catch his breath, repeating his message softly to himself to straighten it out. Gomja turned back to Teldin with a concerned look on his face. "I wouldn't worry about it, sir. I think Gurfley here has his message twisted around. I'll get it straightened out and tell you later in your cabin. Get some rest."

"I think I got the basic idea of what the message was," Teldin said. "I'll find out what's going on with Aelfred."

"But sir!" Gomja called anxiously. "Changeover could be dangerous. I don't think it would be wise to go there yet. Wait until it's over, at least."

Teldin hesitated. Gomja might have a point. He waved to the giff and said, "Whatever you say," then left the room, closing the door behind him. On impulse, he set off for the helm room anyway. Aelfred wouldn't ask for him unless it was at least remotely important.

Teldin made the trip through the low, narrow corridors of the ship with better than usual speed, stumbling over gnomes only twice. When he arrived in the helm room, he found Loomfinger on the elaborately decorated helm, perched nervously on the edge of the thronelike seat. Aelfred and Sylvie were there, as was Gaye, standing almost in a corner of the room. Gaye immediately smiled and waved at Teldin when he entered. Aelfred glanced at him, then turned his attention back to Sylvie.

"You sure you're up to this?" Aelfred asked with concern. He stood by Sylvie, who was seated on a stool just in front of the helm and rubbing her face vigorously.

"Damn it, I'm fine," the half-elf muttered. "I got a little sleep, anyway. If we make it quick, we won't drop more than a few hundred feet, a thousand at most. How high are we? Arc we above the clouds? No-I mean, are we above-are we high enough to make that drop okay? You know what I mean, Aelfred. Just tell me."

Aelfred looked up at Teldin and gave a quick shake of his head, his lips pressed into a line.

Teldin then caught on to what was happening. "Aelfred, do you want me to take the helm?" he asked. "I don't know anything about how to make this thing work, and the last time I tried running the helm, it didn't work."

"You did pretty damn well when we flew out of the reach of those scro at Ironpiece," Aelfred said flatly. "We don't have time to quibble. We've got to get up and out of this atmosphere, or we'll never get anywhere. We don't know how high the air goes, but it will be faster sailing for us all the farther we get from the ground and the scro. No offense, Loomfinger, but we need the best person in that helm right now. Sylvie's too tired to do it, and I want you to try, Teldin." Aelfred looked back at the gnome on the helm. "What's the situation out there?"

The gnome swallowed. "The fleet is still behind us, sir," he said, his speech growing more rapid with each second. "We are at two and a half miles altitude and I count twenty ships to aft so far, and they are gaining on us and should be upon us in ten minutes or so unless we change helmsmen, but I can still run the helm in an emergency if you need me anytime. Just call me and I can run the helm in a jiffy and never-"

"Forget it! Just forget it, Loomfinger," Sylvie interrupted, standing suddenly and swaying. She caught Teldin's arm in a tight grip but did not relax it. "I can do it. Bring me some water so I can wash my face off, and I can get on the helm. Hurry it up."

Aelfred stared at Sylvie, who was still swaying, then looked at Teldin with desperation. "You up to this, old son?" he asked. "Can you make that cloak of yours run a ship again?" "Aelfred, I said I would try it!" Sylvie yelled suddenly. She angrily whirled around, looking at everyone. "Would you all just get out of here? You're driving me crazy!"

"Sylvie, calm down!" Aelfred said, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. "You haven't had any sleep, and- Teldin!"

Without a word, Teldin acted on impulse. He reached out, caught Loomfinger under the arms, and lifted the surprised gnome off the helm to set him on the floor. At that same moment, Teldin had a curious feeling, as if he had stepped off a high cliff and was starting to fall. He lunged for the helm in panic, not having expected the change so soon. His cape flowed out behind him as if he were underwater. Everyone in the room fought to keep from falling over as the gravity left. Sylvie shrieked, flailing with her arms.

"Gods, Teldin!" roared Aelfred, his face turning white. His feet had left the floor. "You idiot!"

Teldin's right hand grasped the back of the helm, and he heaved himself clumsily into the helm's seat, holding himself down by grasping the arms of the chair.

Nothing happened.

Now weightless, with the screams of everyone in the room ringing in his ears, Teldin felt a terror that he'd never dreamed he could feel. He had just murdered everyone aboard the ship. They were going to die because of his stupidity. And dying was going to take a long, long time at this altitude.

Wildly, he clutched at the arms of the chair, concentrating on making the ship rise with every bit of willpower he had.

Nothing happened.

"Noooooo!" he roared. There was a cracking sound, and one of the arms of the helm broke loose in his grip.

Time slowed down.