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Authors: Roger Moore
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turned to leave, looking back once as he opened the door. The admiral’s gaze lingered on Teldin ’s cloak. He then left, pulling the door shut behind him.
The time crawled by so slowly that Teldin believed he would go mad. He was lying on the bed, trying to relax enough to get rid of a headache, when the door opened again. Another young elf, this one a blond male, motioned for Teldin to follow him. “Dinner is about to be served, good sir,” the elf said. “I could have waited a while longer,” muttered Teldin, pulling on his boots. He decided that maybe he could nibble a few items, just to be polite.
The hemispherical dining hall was smaller than the starry hall, but much brighter and more comfortable-looking. A circular table surrounded by soft chairs took up the middle of the room. No other furniture was present; the entire floor was covered with a carpet, too, Teldin noticed. Bowls of fruits and finger-foods were scattered around the table. Glowing globes and figurines hung from the ceiling, spilling bright yellow light everywhere. To Teldin’s surprise, living vines crawled up the walls, encircling carved wooden figures of elves, many with wings, that graced the decorative pillars. The air inside was cool on his face and smelled fresh, as if it had just rained.
Perhaps a dozen elves were already seated at the table and chatting softly and animatedly when Teldin was escorted in. They all looked in his direction, but they never stopped their conversations or made any move to welcome him. He looked about, pulling his cloak around him, and took a place to the right of one of the staff members Teldin remembered seeing earlier in the forest illusion. While he didn’t understand Elvish, Teldin found he was able to make out the gist of what the elf was saying – all gossip about the goings-on around the Rock, he realized. He was almost disappointed, though he wasn’t sure what he had expected. Teldin sighed and ate a small piece of fruit, trying not to look as out of place as he felt. Why were the elves ignoring him? Was he just some kind of groundling peasant to them?
It was then that he heard a scratching noise, and he turned to his right and noticed a gnome two seats away. He was too short to be seen over the top of his chair. The scratching noise came from the movement of the gnome’s pen across a folded-up page of parchment. Like many gnomes Teldin had known, this one had brown skin with short-cut, silky white hair; a large bald spot showed on top of his head. A pair of gold-wire spectacles perched halfway down the gnome’s broad nose.
Teldin smiled. What was the Gnomish word for hello? There was a phrase that the gnomes with whom he had traveled into wildspace had always called to each other while they were aboard ship. The cloak hadn’t bothered to translate it for him. How did it go?
“Woda ganeu!” Teldin said, leaning toward the gnome and waving a hand in greeting.
The gnome started and looked up, blinking in surprise. “What?” he said in a high, nasal voice. “Why should I get out of your way? Am I blocking your view?” The gnome looked to his right for anything Teldin might be trying to see.
Teldin winced. So that’s what the gnomes had been saying! “No, no! Just forget it,” he said hastily. “I’m Teldin Moore. Pleased to meet you.” He scooted a little closer to hear the gnome better.
The gnome stared at him for a moment. “Teldin Moore?” he asked, his voice rising in puzzlement. “Teldin Moore. You’re the one with the magical pants?”
“Cloak,” Teldin corrected, picking up an edge of his blue garment. The gnome squinted at the cloak, then sat back, raising his pen and obviously looking to end the conversation. “Ergonomic fabric design was not my life quest,” he muttered. “Useful, of course. Got to have clothes. Good business.” His bushy eyebrows knitted together in deep concentration as he was absorbed again by his scribbling.
Teldin rubbed at his mustache
The time crawled by so slowly that Teldin believed he would go mad. He was lying on the bed, trying to relax enough to get rid of a headache, when the door opened again. Another young elf, this one a blond male, motioned for Teldin to follow him. “Dinner is about to be served, good sir,” the elf said. “I could have waited a while longer,” muttered Teldin, pulling on his boots. He decided that maybe he could nibble a few items, just to be polite.
The hemispherical dining hall was smaller than the starry hall, but much brighter and more comfortable-looking. A circular table surrounded by soft chairs took up the middle of the room. No other furniture was present; the entire floor was covered with a carpet, too, Teldin noticed. Bowls of fruits and finger-foods were scattered around the table. Glowing globes and figurines hung from the ceiling, spilling bright yellow light everywhere. To Teldin’s surprise, living vines crawled up the walls, encircling carved wooden figures of elves, many with wings, that graced the decorative pillars. The air inside was cool on his face and smelled fresh, as if it had just rained.
Perhaps a dozen elves were already seated at the table and chatting softly and animatedly when Teldin was escorted in. They all looked in his direction, but they never stopped their conversations or made any move to welcome him. He looked about, pulling his cloak around him, and took a place to the right of one of the staff members Teldin remembered seeing earlier in the forest illusion. While he didn’t understand Elvish, Teldin found he was able to make out the gist of what the elf was saying – all gossip about the goings-on around the Rock, he realized. He was almost disappointed, though he wasn’t sure what he had expected. Teldin sighed and ate a small piece of fruit, trying not to look as out of place as he felt. Why were the elves ignoring him? Was he just some kind of groundling peasant to them?
It was then that he heard a scratching noise, and he turned to his right and noticed a gnome two seats away. He was too short to be seen over the top of his chair. The scratching noise came from the movement of the gnome’s pen across a folded-up page of parchment. Like many gnomes Teldin had known, this one had brown skin with short-cut, silky white hair; a large bald spot showed on top of his head. A pair of gold-wire spectacles perched halfway down the gnome’s broad nose.
Teldin smiled. What was the Gnomish word for hello? There was a phrase that the gnomes with whom he had traveled into wildspace had always called to each other while they were aboard ship. The cloak hadn’t bothered to translate it for him. How did it go?
“Woda ganeu!” Teldin said, leaning toward the gnome and waving a hand in greeting.
The gnome started and looked up, blinking in surprise. “What?” he said in a high, nasal voice. “Why should I get out of your way? Am I blocking your view?” The gnome looked to his right for anything Teldin might be trying to see.
Teldin winced. So that’s what the gnomes had been saying! “No, no! Just forget it,” he said hastily. “I’m Teldin Moore. Pleased to meet you.” He scooted a little closer to hear the gnome better.
The gnome stared at him for a moment. “Teldin Moore?” he asked, his voice rising in puzzlement. “Teldin Moore. You’re the one with the magical pants?”
“Cloak,” Teldin corrected, picking up an edge of his blue garment. The gnome squinted at the cloak, then sat back, raising his pen and obviously looking to end the conversation. “Ergonomic fabric design was not my life quest,” he muttered. “Useful, of course. Got to have clothes. Good business.” His bushy eyebrows knitted together in deep concentration as he was absorbed again by his scribbling.
Teldin rubbed at his mustache
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