Again, Dyffed looked around. Seeing all eyes upon him, he made a decision and sighed heavily. "This goes against all my better judgment and scientific ethics," he said, "not to mention the members' code of Ironpiece Dweomerfusion Industries, Ordnance, and Technology, but perhaps you have a point." He reached into his dirty vest and carefully extracted a slip of folded paper. This he handed, after a moment's hesitation, to Teldin. "Here it is."

Teldin took the paper in disbelief. After staring at the gnome, he looked down and slowly unfolded the paper. He read it without comment. "This is it?" he finally said.

The gnome looked down and nodded somberly. "Took me decades just to get it right," he said with a trace of satisfaction. "One Six Nine was a jolly help, just perfect. Fine old boy." "Is this a spell?" Teldin asked.

"Oh, no, no, not at all. That's just the theory. We'll have to get the raw materials and some equipment, assemble a device or two, develop a delivery system, conduct at least a few tests, then we'll be ready to put it into production."

Teldin said nothing. After a few moments, the slip of paper dropped from his fingers. His head sagged forward until it dropped into his upraised hands, his palms and fingers covering his face.

Duffed grabbed for the paper, but Gaye caught it first and held it up to her wide, dark eyes. All that was written on the scrap was a simple notation:

E = mc2

"Eee mik two," she said, just before Dyffed snatched the paper away. "I don't get it."

"It's actually rather simple," Dyffed said irritably, folding the paper up again and putting it safely away in his inside vest pocket. "It's the relationship between mass and magical potential in all the spheres, throughout the cosmos. The equation shows clearly that-"

"The armada's sending down a flitter, sir," said Gomja in a flat, deep voice. He was looking up into the sky. His large, blunt fingers closed on the butts of two of the pistols at his belt. "You and the others had better get inside the ship. I can stall the flitter crewmen if they still think I'm helping them. I might be able to force my way inside and take the crew hostage, using them to get our freedom." The giff shoved himself unsteadily to his feet. He looked down and saw that no one else had moved. "Sir, you and the others had better get inside now," he repeated.

Teldin's face turned to look into Gomja's own. The giff shifted uncomfortably. There was something new in Teldin's face that the giff did not recall ever having seen before. It was so intense that Gomja swallowed, almost turning away.

"I'm going with you," Teldin said, and abruptly got to his feet. His cloak was at full length, so blue that it seemed almost purple. He waved at the gnomes and Gaye. "Get the hell inside the ship, right now. Move."

With only the slightest pause and without even the slightest comment, the kender and the gnomes did exactly as they were told, though Gaye stopped before him long enough to look into his face. Her hand came our as if to touch him, but it then pulled back, and she followed the others to the rope ladder to climb inside.

Teldin and Gomja glanced up at the tiny green-and-white striped flitter that slowly descended from the orange butterfly ship in the sky. Teldin looked over for a moment at Aelfred.

The big warrior was stroking Sylvie's face with his fingertips, still cradling her head with his other hand. His face was hidden. Teldin looked away and began walking in the Sitter's general direction. After a moment, Gomja straightened his posture, lifted his chin, and followed.

*****

Mirandel watched the flitter fall toward the ground. It was impossible to tell at this close distance that what lay beneath them was the surface of the head of a creature larger than many worlds, whose footsteps could span continents. The Empress Dorianne hovered over what seemed like a high hill, with a patchwork sky of green, blue, and brown overhead. With her husband gone to meet Teldin Moore, she felt a faint stirring of interest in things, no longer having to face his frigid, uncompromising expression and hide her feelings. It was still best to keep busy, however; the ghosts within her mind would gain control the moment she gave them a foothold. It was impossible to think straight.

A noise caught her attention. The battlewizard, now acting captain for the armada, stepped away from the window when she heard footsteps and rattling armor hurrying toward the open bridge door. An officer burst into the room, his face flushed and obviously out of breath.

"Captain!" he gasped, staggering to a stop. "Captain, the Fury has sent a message that it has been found and is under attack. The whole orcish fleet is behind the four pursuing craft, each ship protected by fog clouds and illusions. The sun blocked our view!"

Mirandel started toward the speaking crystal that would transmit her voice to the helm room, then stopped. She had thought to order the Empress to move in to support the Fury, but she remembered then that Cirathorn was below on the unarmed flitter-an unavoidable target for any orcish ship that came near enough to see it.

"Order the Hornet to support the Fury!" she shouted at the officer. ''Have Second Battlewizard Ervar contact the flitter and request its immediate return! We must stay long enough to get the admiral back before we can join battle with the orcs.

All weapons crews are to fire on any enemy ship that threatens either the Empress or the flitter. Abandon all ground targets. Go and do!"

*****

"The Trident has rammed!" Usso's squeal rang throughout the tiny helm room. She gripped the arms of the ill-made helm chair with trembling fingers, her face alive with the vision of the battle outside. "It drove through the back of the man-o-war. There's considerable debris falling." She pulled back from the scene, blinking with surprise. Her eyes registered nothing in the room where she sat. "The man-o-war lost its port wing. It's begun to fall apart. The Trident is going down with the hull and starboard wing. It cannot pull free-it's falling now. The man-o-war must have lost its helm. They're both falling. The Trident is losing deck gear. A deck hand has fallen free…" Usso stopped. For several seconds, she pursed her lips together. "Both ships are falling out of control," she continued. "They're… they've both crashed." She exhaled slowly, then looked up at the armored giant who stood before her. "A search for survivors is not advised."

Vorr nodded curtly, making a brief fingerspelling gesture with his left hand. He then stuck out his other hand and made a cutting gesture across his wrist with the blade of the left hand. His expression could not be read through the many scars and burns across his face.

Usso nodded at Vorr's last command, her long black hair swaying gently. "Within the next two minutes, General. The last man-o-war has engaged the fleet but is now trying to break off and escape. We are almost in position for the final blow."

And so I am, she thought. So am I.

*****

The flitter glided down in complete silence. Only the wind in the tall grass sounded around Teldin and Gomja as they stood to greet the ship.

"Forgive me, sir," muttered Gomja from behind. "It's better this way." Teldin heard the hammer being drawn back on a flintlock pistol, then felt something like a thick finger poke him in the back of the head.

Teldin felt that he couldn't be surprised any longer. "So you're still working for the elves," he said evenly, looking up at the striped flitter.