Wrapped in his gloomy thoughts, the mate did not at first see a shadowy figure slipping through the cargo hold. He caught a glimpse of a trailing robe-or blanket-as someone entered the room housing the wing and paddle machinery.

"You there!" Gaston called. There was no response, and the angry mate sped after the silent figure. He burst through the door and immediately staggered back from a fierce blow to his face. Gaston hit the deck hard and bounded to his feet, spitting out bits of broken teeth. The room was dark, but he could make out a tall elven figure swathed in flowing robes. Gaston's vision slipped into the night vision spectrum. To his horror, the elf-shaped assailant registered in a pattern of cool blue and green light, not the healthy red one expected of a warm-blooded elf.

Gaston drew his short sword and lunged. He connected- hard!-to the creature's midsection. The sword should have gone up and under the rib cage, but the only result was the sharp clunk of blade meeting tough plate armor. Before the first mate could recover from the failed lunge, he received a backhanded blow that shattered his nose and sent him reeling. The stranger advanced, raining blows so fast and vicious that Gaston could do no more than bring his arms up in a futile attempt to shield his face. The elf fell to his knees, and the room closed in on him with a rush of blood and darkness.

*****

Sleep would not come to Teldin. He returned to the hammock in Hectate's cabin. Despite his exhaustion, he could not dispel from his mind the image of gray monsters with swords for hands and insatiable appetites for elven flesh. Vallus had called them Witchlight Marauders, and he'd also muttered something about them destroying entire worlds. From what Teldin had seen, he didn't doubt for a minute that such a thing was possible.

Also disturbing to Teldin was the choice that lay before him. He wanted to join forces with Pearl, and not only for what she could offer him. In many ways, the dragon was a kindred spirit. Her curiosity and love of adventure reminded Teldin of both his grandfather and Aelfred. She was an irreverent character, always poking sardonic fun at conventions and authority figures. Solitary by nature, the dragon prized her independence, yet, like Teldin, she enjoyed being with others from time to time. That, he realized, was one of the main attractions of the alliance. He'd been alone for too long. So many of his friends and companions had fallen victim to his quest that he'd isolated himself, fearing to bring danger to those he loved. A dragon would be not only a good companion, but a durable one. And he had a responsibility to make his comrades' deaths mean something.

On the other hand, Teldin felt torn by a growing sense of duty. The Witchlight Marauders had to be stopped. He wasn't sure what he could do about the monsters, but neither did he feel that he could just walk away. Like Hectate, he hadn't wanted to get involved in the spreading conflict between the elves and goblinkin, but it was starting to look as if he wouldn't have a choice. Until he'd seen the gray monsters on the man-o-war, Teldin wasn't sure he could have chosen one side over the other. Granted, the scro were vicious, brutal characters, but the elves' methods were not exactly beyond reproach either.

Teldin thought back to his first war, the War of the Lance, back on his native Krynn. He'd entered it believing in black and white, heroes and villains; he'd left it believing in very little and deeply suspicious of those in positions of power. Cynicism came easily; at least, it did until he himself had been faced with the necessity of making a decision. He was beginning to understand some of the problems of leadership, some of the pitfalls that came with power. There were no right answers, only the struggle to find the greater good-or the lesser evil. And power! He'd survived the attempts of a dozen races who were willing to kill him and others to possess the magic cloak. What would he himself become in the process of wielding the cloak? And what would he become as captain of the Spelljammer? Even now, there were days when he looked in the mirror to shave and felt as if he were confronting a stranger.

After half of a watch slipped by, Teldin was no closer to either sleep or answers. With a sigh of surrender, he swung himself out of the hammock and went in search of the dracons. They both were on duty this watch, and maybe one of them would be free to drill with him. Perhaps the activity would clear his mind. At the very least, it would help sharpen his skills for the next battle. If there was one thing Teldin was sure about, it was that there would be more battles.

*****

Teldin was fending off Chirp's battle axe when Vallus came to the upper deck. "We must talk about Hectate Kir," the elf said without preamble.

Breathing heavily, Teldin wiped the sweat from his forehead and nodded to the dracon. Taking the hint, Chirp tucked the ornate weapon into its holster and ambled off, whistling as he went. "What is it?" Teldin asked anxiously, sheathing his own sword. "Did Hectate finally wake up?"

"So it would appear," Vallus said solemnly. "I am sorry to have to tell you this, but you must know. The first mate was found in the hold, beaten almost beyond recognition and left for dead. Under Deelia's care, he revived enough to describe his attacker."

Teldin's blue eyes narrowed. "I don't like where this is leading."

"Gaston claims that the being who attacked him was covered with plate armor, like an insect. There is only one person aboard who could fit that description."

"And that person is unconscious in my cabin," Teldin returned heatedly.

Vallus shook his head. "According to Deelia, the bionoid's injuries are not sufficient to explain his condition. Isn't it possible that he is feigning sleep to keep us off guard?"

"Let's say you're right. How did Hectate leave the cabin undetected?" the captain asked. "Someone has been with him at all times. If not Deelia or me, then Rozloom."

In response, Vallus merely turned and led the way to Teldin's cabin. When the elf eased open the door, they were greeted by a sonorous snore. Puzzled, Teldin peered in. Hectate still was unconscious. His breathing still was weak and shallow, and his unruly red hair was a shock of color above his pallid face.

Rozloom also slept. He lay on the floor, his booted feet propped up on Teldin's writing table and his vast belly rising and falling with each raucous blast of sound. An empty bottle from Teldin's sagecoarse hoard lay on the floor beside the snoring gypsy.

"Rozloom could have been asleep for hours," Vallus said as he shut the door.

"Days," Teldin corrected without humor. Experience had taught him that sagecoarse was potent stuff, and despite Rozloom's immense capacity for spirits, Teldin was surprised that anyone could put away an entire bottle and live to snore.

But even if Hectate could and did leave the cabin, Teldin did not believe that the bionoid was responsible for the first mate's injuries. As much as he hated to admit it, Pearl was a more likely suspect. The attack on Gaston was too much like her violent response to Rozloom's overeager courting. With her shape-shifting talent, she certainly could have taken on the armored form that Vallus had described. It had to be Pearl, unless…

"Paladine's blood," Teldin swore, raking both hands through his sandy hair. He turned back to the elven wizard. "You've searched the ship?" he asked sharply.

Vallus blinked. "For what?"

"An insectare," Teldin said. "I have no idea how it got on the ship, but I think we've got an insectare aboard."

"You want us to search the ship for an insectare?" Vallus echoed in disbelief.