His cabin was ridiculously small, located as it was in the bow of the ship above the Toaster. There almost wasn’t room for him to stretch his hammock, and before he’d succumbed to seasickness, every time he stood up, he smacked his head on some beam or pipe. Sometimes, when the ship was being tossed about particularly violently by some storm, he imagined that he was dead and buried in a gnomish spring-driven coffin. The porthole caused him the most grief. Through it, he had a front seat to. the worst heavings of the sea when they surfaced. When submerged, he witnessed the bounty of the sea in all its loathsome varieties, from grim-toothed sharks grinning through the shreds of their latest meal to stomach-churning jellyfish splattered and oozing across the porthole’s glass. It was enough to give the most seasoned of assassins the heaves.

After three days and nights, the Indestructible finally managed to crawl out from beneath the typhoon, and at dawn the commodore ordered the ship surfaced and aired out. Those who had suffered the most from seasickness received a few hours of much-needed rest, as did the ship’s springs and gears, for they had worked without pause for most of those three long days and nights. Lines and poles were brought out and rigged along the aft deck so that the galley staff could catch fresh fish for supper. A keg of beer was broached, and for the first time in many days, the professor, never one to miss out on beer, emerged from his cabin. Sir Grumdish practiced his swordplay, even teaching the commodore a few tricks with the cutlass.

Meanwhile, Navigator Snork stood in the conning tower and took fresh bearings on the newly risen sun. He then consulted his navigational charts and maps, and after checking the position of the sun once more, announced loudly that they had arrived. He estimated that the ruins of Istar lay somewhere directly below them. A great cheer went up from the ship, and in the galley Sir Tanar, drinking tarbean tea-the first thing he’d been able to keep down in days-wondered at the commotion.

“We’ve made it, sir!” the cook said as he poured the Thorn Knight another cup.

“Made what?” Sir Tanar asked.

“Istar, sir! Bless me. The commodore says we’ll dive tomorrow!”

At these words, Sir Tanar’s eyes narrowed, and the words to a charm spell sprang to mind, but the magic felt sluggish and unwieldy in his veins. “I’d like a word with the commodore in my cabin,” he said. “Will you tell him?”

“Aye,” the cook said, running his bandaged hand lovingly over the battered pewter pot in which he had brewed tarbean tea for over forty years now.

“Dive to the bottom of the chasm?” the commodore snorted. “You’re mad. Everyone knows it’s bottomless.”

“But it might not be,” Sir Tanar said in oily tones. “It might lead somewhere interesting.”

“Where?” The commodore laughed. “The Abyss?”

“Aren’t you the least bit curious?” the Thorn Knight asked.

“I am!” Razmous shouted from behind the closed door.

“No! I’ll listen to no more talk of the Abyss,” the commodore barked. “This ship is subnavigating the continent, and that’s that. If you don’t like it, we can put you off here and now. My orders are to take you along, and there’s nothing in there about listening to your ideas. If you give me any more trouble, you’ll be feeding the sharks before you can snap your fingers.”

The words of a defensive spell came to Tanar’s mind, but he held them. His magical communications device was stored in its box inside a crate across the room, and without it, his spell had little chance of success.

“Keep that in mind,” Commodore Brigg finished as he opened the door.

Razmous tumbled into the room. The commodore stepped over the red-faced kender and strode away.

Conundrum entered immediately after the commodore was gone and helped Razmous to his feet. Without a word, Razmous bowed and hurried after the commodore. Conundrum started to follow, but Sir Tanar clutched at his sleeve.

Ever since that day at the Sailor’s Rest, when the Thorn Knight had enspelled him with a single word, Conundrum had felt uncomfortable around Sir Tanar. The wizard was the first human with whom he’d had any regular dealings, and he found he didn’t much care for their ways. He thought humans dull and stupid because they spoke so slowly, yet they were cunning-as the snake is cunning. He stared at the tops of his shoes.

The Thorn Knight eyed the gnome with a mixture of curiosity and disgust. Over the last few days, he’d learned more about gnomes that he had ever wanted. Yet just when he thought he had them pegged, they went and did something unexpected. That made them wily opponents. The safest bet, and his plan all along, had been to catch them sleeping and, after subduing the leaders with his magic, either force the others to do his bidding or kill them outright and take over the ship himself-after they reached the chasm to the Abyss, of course. But he had abandoned this plan at about the same time he became seasick, for two reasons. First, he was beginning to believe that gnomes never slept. Second, it became painfully obvious that he would never be able to operate the ship on his own. He needed the gnomes” help, but he wasn’t quite sure how to convince them to do what he wanted. He certainly couldn’t charm them all with his magic.

But it occurred to him that a mutiny might serve his purposes. If he could begin to sow dissension among the crew, doubts about their voyage, he might be able to wrest command from the commodore and take the ship where he wanted. A little magical intervention would help his cause along. Every mutiny started with one member of the crew. Just one.

“Please stay a moment, Conundrum,” Tanar begged in a sincere tone as he clutched the gnome’s sleeve. “I’ve wanted a word with you these many days since we put to sea, but there hasn’t been a chance to speak. Close the door, if you would.”

Reluctantly, Conundrum did as the Thorn Knight bade. As he closed the door, he felt the Knight’s eyes boring into his back. He turned and placed his back to the door.

“Come now, Conundrum, I know you do not trust me,” Sir Tanar cajoled. “Can we not forget that little incident in my room when I cast that spell on you? You were about to throw a priceless treasure out the window. I had to stop you. Will you not accept my apology?”

“I forgive you,” Conundrum answered quickly, but without raising his eyes.

“That’s right. It was all a misunderstanding,” the Thorn Knight said, a toothy smile spreading across his face, “and I want you to know that I’m not here to cause trouble-or try to steal your secrets, either. You do believe me, don’t you?”

Conundrum didn’t reply. He tried to think of somewhere else he needed to be so that he could leave without offending or angering the Thorn Knight. He was sure it wouldn’t be a good idea to anger Sir Tanar.

“I am a wizard, you see,” Sir Tanar continued. “I seek knowledge, like yourself. Gnomes and wizards are not so different. Yes, we are very much alike, you and I. We could be friends. Don’t you think we could be friends?”

Conundrum shrugged.

“I want you to understand how sincere I am,” the Thorn Knight said. Suddenly, the wizard’s powerful hand clutched Conundrum under the chin. The gnome started in surprise and banged his head against the door. The room swam, and from the center of it the Thorn Knight’s dark eyes started out like two lamps through a fog. Conundrum rubbed his bruised pate and tried to shake the cobwebs from his mind, but Sir Tanar’s eyes held him.

“You do understand that I want to be your friend,” Sir Tanar said.

Slowly, Conundrum assented. He felt it impossible to refuse. His suspicions of the wizard dropped away, and now when he thought about them, he wondered how he could have been so silly. He and the wizard were very much alike, both passengers on this ship, both seeking to fulfill a Life Quest. He smiled.