The Maelstroms Eye by Roger Moore

Jammermaker,” continued Cirathorn, unperturbed, “is unrivaled in his understanding of spelljamming theory and construction. Dyffed long ago completed his work on ship design for the Imperial Fleet, and had requested that he be given passage back to his home on Ironpiece. Unfortunately, his subsequent studies have distracted him, and he has missed every voyage back to Ironpiece for the last eight years. If you offered him room aboard your hammer-ship, he might well offer you able assistance on your quest for the Spelljammer, as I believe that ship is of special interest to him.”
    “The Spelljammer?” mumbled the pop-eyed gnome, his face covered with amazement. “Now, you don’t mean just any spelljammer, do you? Or do you mean the big Spelljammer, the really big one? The one-and-only Spelljammer? Or is this a joke? I can never tell with you elves. You must mean some other kind of —”
    “If you will bear with him,” said Cirathorn patiently, “you will find his advice most helpful, though you may have to remind him when he should eat, and perhaps when he should bathe as well. We will —”
    “Wait!” yelled the gnome in a panic. “No one’s told me if you’re talking about the one-and-only Spelljammer or not yet, and besides I did take a bath not long ago. You elves think you know everything, and if you’re doing this just to trick me, well, I’m not just anyone’s fool, but first tell me if you really mean the one-and-only Spelljammer or not so I know what you’re talking about, because if you really mean the one-and-only Spelljammer, well, that’s another kettle of lug nuts, because I wrote an article on the Spelljammer to Spelljamming Week amp; Wildspace Technology, which will see publication in just five years, once they get their printing presses working again after the last explosion, but more to the point —”
    Teldin glanced at the admiral. Cirathorn’s head bobbed slightly in rough rhythm with the gnome’s pressured speech. “You will become accustomed to him, as have we,” the elf said softly, turning in Teldin’s direction again. “Trust me that it will be worth the trouble.”
    Teldin shrugged his shoulders. “It depends on the Probe’s captain, but I don’t think he’ll have a problem with one more passenger. If he can help us when we find the Spelljammer, it will be worth any amount of trouble.” Almost any trouble, he added to himself.
    “It is settled, then.” Cirathorn sighed and rose to his feet, stretching his legs and ignoring the gnome’s continued rambling and questions. “Let us rest for an hour, then return here when all have been refreshed. You have given us much to consider, Teldin Moore, as well as much wonder and entertainment, which I am sure was not your purpose. Please remain with us in our embassy until we reconvene. We will present you with our papers on the Spelljammer as soon as possible, then will see you on your way.”
    “That will be fine,” said Teldin, but it wasn’t as fine as all that. He would have to see if someone else could translate the papers for him, especially if they were in Elvish or used unnaturally long words, which he feared would be the case. Maybe Aelfred could translate them. Anything would be better than having the gnome try to explain them.
    Something else bothered Teldin. It was great that Cirathorn was being so helpful, but why? Teldin had been betrayed and attacked so many times that he found it impossible to believe that anyone would help him out of pure goodness. What was the admiral’s take in all of this? Or had Teldin merely become too cynical? He had to clear this up before his ship left. Elves weren’t inclined to be blunt like humans, but he had to know the truth.
    Cirathorn motioned with his hands toward the door, and the other elves stood and left the room in twos and threes. All of them stared at Teldin and his cloak from a comfortable distance. No one tried to touch it – or him.
    The admiral remained