Nigel Findley - The Broken Sphere

Teldin frowned. He didn't feel fully comfortable. The mercenaries outnumbered his surviving crew by more than four to one. And Berglund, he knew, was a wily man. The only thing that the Cloakmaster had going for him at the moment was "Grampian"-or whatever the creature's real name was-and the fact that Djan had a crossbow leveled at the blue-skinned giant's skull from point-blank range. The saloon had only one door, which meant the mercenaries couldn't get to them without giving plenty of time to… encourage… the arcane to call off his sellswords. Berglund could, conceivably, set up some kind of standoff, trading Teldin's crew's lives for the arcane-and if he did, Teldin knew he'd have to surrender. But he didn't think the arcane would countenance that kind of risk to its own precious blue skin, and he tried to tell himself that Berglund didn't have enough personal stake in the matter to initiate something like that.

The Cloakmaster forced his doubts aside. He'd worry about those things if they came to pass. Right now he had to concentrate on the present: there were some things he had to know.

Teldin stared into the arcane's small, watery eyes. Even with the creature seated, he still had to look up into its face. "Who are you?" Teldin asked quietly.

With its magical disguise dropped, its voice had a high, fluting tone to it. "My name is T'k'Ress," the creature said emotionlessly. "I understand you met my… "-it hesitated-"my brother, you might say, T'k'Pek."

Teldin raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly. T'k'Pek was the name of the arcane he'd met aboard the Nebulon, a cylindrical ship in orbit around Toril, before the creature had been killed by the neogi. Interesting, he thought. "Why?" he asked.

The arcane's voice remained emotionless, though its expression seemed to indicate tolerant amusement. "The cloak, why else?" T'k'Ress answered. "I wish you to understand, Teldin Moore," it continued, "that there is nothing personal in this. My interest in the cloak is purely business, my acts motivated purely by business necessities."

Teldin wanted to spit. "That's what your hired dog Berglund said," he snarled, "after he killed my crew."

T'k'Ress extended a six-fingered hand, palm up. "The deaths are regrettable," it said quietly. "Would that they were not necessary."

"But you'd do anything to get the gods-damned cloak, wouldn't you?" With an effort, Teldin fought his rage back to more manageable proportions.

The arcane pivoted its shoulder girdle, a strange gesture that Teldin tentatively interpreted as its version of a shrug. "If the truth be told, I have little interest in the cloak as such," it said levelly. "I cannot speak for others of my race, but I would expect them to share my outlook."

Teldin stared at the creature. "What?"

"I have little interest in the cloak as such," T'k'Ress repeated.

"Then… ?"

"Why?" the blue-skinned giant finished. "Business, as I have said.

"You know that my race survives through trade," it went on quietly. "We are the only source for new spelljamming helms, for passage devices, for countless other technomagical products. Our monopoly was hard-earned, and we will do what is necessary to maintain it."

"The cloak…" Teldin started.

"The ultimate helm is of little importance in isolation,' T'k'Ress cut him off. "We sell other items that provide all of the powers of your cloak, except one."

"The Spelljammer," Teldin breathed.

"Of course, the Spelljammer." T'k'Ress nodded. "From what I have learned of the ultimate helm, it gives you an ability that should allow you to locate the Spelljammer. Further, I believe it will allow you to take control of the great craft should you so locate it.

"And that is what I cannot allow," the arcane continued, not the slightest trace of emotion disturbing its voice. "There are great secrets aboard the Spelljammer. Perhaps knowledge of how to create spelljamming helms, and passage devices, and planetary locators. Perhaps knowledge even more advanced-more valuable- than that."

Realization dawned. "You're afraid I'm going to go into competition with you," he said, aghast.

"Were you to enjoy a monopoly such as ours, would you not fear the same?" T'k'Ress wanted to know.

Teldin shook his head slowly. He couldn't believe it! All this-all this effort, all these deaths-merely to protect the arcane's market dominance…

But there was nothing "mere" about the arcane's universe-spanning network. They were the only source of spell-jamming helms. How many did they sell a year, on all the worlds, in all the crystal spheres? Thousands, millions? Say, just for argument, ten thousand major helms a year, at a going rate of… what, two hundred and fifty thousand gold pieces? That represented two billion, five hundred thousand gold pieces per year flowing into the arcane's coffers. And that didn't include such relatively minor peripherals as passage devices and the rest, which, no doubt, netted the race another paltry few millions…

And all that wealth stemmed from the fact that the arcane held the monopoly on the ability to create such-what did T'k'Ress say? Technomagical? -devices. He could suddenly understand how the blue giants might consider a threat to that monopoly worthy of much effort to avert.

Still, it sickened him. There seemed something… base, something ignoble about it. Wasn't it more-"acceptable" wasn't quite the right word-to fight, to kill, to die, for a cause more honorable, more based in principle, than profit? Take the War of the Lance, for instance. Large portions of Krynn had been laid waste, but didn't it matter that the cause was worthy?

Not to the dead. The thought bubbled up from some dark corner of his mind. He remembered those he'd known who'd died in the war. Did it matter to them why they'd died?

With a disgusted shake of his head, he focused back on the arcane before him. Now wasn't the time to worry about philosophical digressions. "What if I told you I had no interest in breaking your monopoly?" he asked T'k'Ress.

The creature's thin lips drew back from the solid, bony ridges that served it as teeth, a disgusting expression that Teldin guessed it had learned from humans. "I might believe that you tell the truth for the moment," T'k'Ress said, no hint of humor in its voice, "but trust that you tell the truth for all time? Thai you would never consider it? No." It shook its head. "I could never trust so much."

Djan spoke up for the first time. "If you'd won," he asked quietly, "if you'd defeated Captain Moore and taken the cloak, would you have donned it yourself?"

T'k'Ress's tiny eyes opened as wide as they'd go in an expression of almost ludicrous surprise. "I?" Still, none of the creature's emotion sounded in its voice. "Never. The benefits might be high, but the risks and costs would almost certainly prove higher. Where would be the benefit to me?" It gave its strange, twisting shrug again. "Perhaps eventually I could find a way of realizing a profit without risking the monopoly, but it would take much thought."

"Tell me how you planned to acquire the cloak," Teldin told the arcane.

"You already know."

"Tell me," the Cloakmaster snapped.

"As you wish," T'k'Ress said mildly. "I tried to block your research into the Spelljammer on Crescent. When that failed, I hired Berglund to intercept you."

"What was that nonsense about Falx?" Teldin demanded.

The arcane spread its long hands. "It seemed unwise to tell a hireling the truth," it explained, "lest he should fail… as he did. Had he succeeded, I would have met his ship en route to Falx and taken my prize at that point. As it was, you perhaps spent energy in preparing to counter a threat from a direction where no threat existed.