Nigel Findley - Into the Void

"You will pardon my caution," the arcane spoke without preamble. His voice was quiet, a reedlike piping much too high-pitched for a creature of his size. While he had no discernible accent, he seemed to exaggerate the sound of consonants, so that fricatives became sharp clicks, almost like bone on bone. Teldin assumed that might tell an expert something about the anatomy of his vocal apparatus, but it meant nothing to him.

The arcane fixed Teldin with a sharp gaze. "You implied to my representative that we have met." His voice was totally devoid of emotion. "We have not."

Teldin stepped forward and inclined his head, a shallow bow of respect. "I apologize," he said. "I needed to speak to you, but Barrab wasn't going to allow it."

"He was doing his job," T'k'Pek pointed out flatly.

"I realize that, but I had to speak with you, so I tricked him."

"You played on his fear," the arcane stated. His voice remained emotionless. "Barrab has much fear." The creature was silent for a moment, then went on, "I assume from your actions that you wish to see me on other than a normal business matter. I also assume that your companions are thus more than business assistants." The blue-skinned giant's gaze flicked to Aelfred and Estriss.

"I didn't mean to be rude," Teldin said. "These are my friends, Aelfred Silverhorn and… Bale Estriss. I am…"

The arcane cut him off. "In many cultures it is an insult to appear at a meeting in a false guise." Even though the words themselves were sharp, the creature's tone was still utterly indifferent. "Is it your intention to insult me?"

"Of course not," Teldin said quickly. He took a deep breath, calming himself in preparation for dropping the face of "Aldyn Brewer," but then he hesitated. The arcane's gaze wasn't on him; it was fixed unwaveringly on Estriss.

The disguised illithid hesitated for a moment, then hissed a word under his breath. His features shifted like water, quickly resolving themselves into the mind flayer's familiar tentacled face. With a red-tinged hand, Estriss removed a small felt hat from his head. His featureless eyes were on the arcane.

"Interesting," T'k'Pek remarked, though his flat tone belied the word. "An illithid in the company of humans." He turned his dark eyes to Teldin. "We may proceed."

Teldin was silent for a moment. There was something not right about this. He wanted to look back at Estriss, to ask the illithid for guidance, but knew that was impossible. He debated for a moment whether to drop his own magical disguise-which T'k'Pek hadn't seen through! he stressed to himself-then decided against it. "Yes," he said, "we may."

"What is the business for which you must see me?" the arcane asked.

As the dragonfly had made its final maneuvers to land on the Nebulon, Teldin had taken the time to prepare his answer to this question. He spoke now without hesitation. "There's a particular item-you might call it an artifact-that's come into my possession," he said smoothly. "I need you to tell me the background, the origin of that item."

T'k'Pek's deep-set eyes opened a touch wider at the word "artifact," but his voice reflected none of his apparent attention. "Interesting," he said again. "Why would you think I might know this?"

"Two reasons," Teldin answered. "First, it's well known that the arcane are the premiere dealers of powerful magic in the universe. A good salesperson must be able to evaluate potential sales goods, isn't that so?" Teldin had gambled that even a creature such as the arcane would have a streak of vanity and that it couldn't hurt to play on it. When the blue giant hooded his eyes complacently, Teldin knew he'd guessed right.

"That is correct," T'k'Pek confirmed. "And second?"

"Second, I have reason to believe that the item is of arcane manufacture."

"Oh?" Despite the creature's even tone, there was definitely the spark of serious interest in his eyes. "You have the item with you, I trust?"

"I do."

"Well?" the arcane prompted.

Teldin walked over to the arcane, sprawled in his throne. He looked up into the blue-skinned giant's eyes. "The cloak," he said simply.

T'k'Pek held out a hand- five fingers and a thumb, Teldin noticed-waiting for Teldin to hand over the cloak. When Teldin didn't, the arcane made no comment, just leaned down and took the cloth between his fingers. He examined the weave, turned the cloth over to view the lining, then released the cloak and resumed his relaxed, almost bored, posture.

"Yes," T'k'Pek said, "the cloak was created by my race."

Teldin realized he'd been holding his breath. He emptied his lungs with an audible sigh. He'd found the creators….

So why, then, was he feeling uncomfortable? He couldn't isolate the feeling, couldn't examine it, but it was there and it was strong. There's something very wrong here, he told himself. He needed time to think. And, he realized, he needed to keep the arcane talking. "How do you know that?" he temporized.

"Do you see the pattern in the weave of the lining?"

T'k'Pek asked. "The three-petaled flower? That flower is a symbol widely used by, and widely associated with, my race. See?" The arcane extended his left hand. Around one of its long, multijointed fingers was a heavy ring of gold. The top of the ring was flat, like a signet ring, and bore a design. The pattern was complex, but at its center was, unmistakably, the trilaterally symmetrical flower woven into the cloak's lining.

"That flower is unique to the arcane?" Teldin asked-more to give himself time to think than because he wanted to hear the creature's answer.

"That is so," T'k'Pek told him. "That representation of the flower is used only by my race."

T'k'Pek's lying! The thought was so strong that, for a moment, Teldin imagined he was "hearing" Estriss's mental voice. He quickly realized, though, that the thought was his own. His eyes locked with those of the blue giant. Why do I think you're lying to me? he asked silently. No, the real question is, Why are you lying? If T'k'Pek were human, Teldin might have seen some reaction in his eyes. But the eyes that looked back were steady, cold, and very alien. He suddenly recalled a comment his grandfather had once made about a man that they both knew and disliked: "If the eyes are windows to the soul, he's learned how to close the shutters."

Teldin heard someone shifting behind him: Aelfred, it had to be. He could sense his large friend's puzzlement. He wants to know why I don't ask the arcane to remove the cloak, Teldin reflected, but I can't, not yet. The next thought was like a cold wind blowing through his soul: Maybe the arcane could do it.

T'k'Pek was still watching him silently. If the arcane sensed his deliberation, he gave no sign.

"So the cloak is an arcane magical device," Teldin said slowly. "Tell me about its powers. What can it do?"

"There are many such cloaks," the arcane said easily. "Most are made for specific purposes, so their powers vary. This only makes sense."

"Give me some examples," Teldin pressed.

The giant's eyes shifted; for the first time he seemed uncomfortable. "The powers vary," he said again. "None are greatly significant: protection against cold, perhaps, or immunity to fire." His eyes were now fixed unblinkingly on Teldin's. Watching for a reaction? Teldin wondered, like a fake fortuneteller watching for a clue to better tailor the story? "Some may allow their wearers to fly, or maybe to breathe in the void. The cloak's power will probably be something minor along those lines."

"Power," Teldin mused. "Each cloak will only have one power?"

"Not necessarily," T'k'Pek replied quickly. "Again, the cloaks will vary. As I say, my people create them for different purposes."

Teldin nodded. He suddenly felt very tired, very old. He knew what he was going to do, and that knowledge was like a heavy burden on his shoulders. Once more, his gaze met the arcane's. "I understand," he said quietly. "Thank you for your time. I appreciate your help."