There was bright light beyond the front door of the elves' embassy building, bright enough to remind Teldin of daylight. Brushing against the doorjamb was a sword-leaf plant, waving in a breeze from inside. Elves must like house plants, thought Teldin, a moment before he realized that in walking through the doorway, he had stepped into a clearing in a forest. In shock. Teldin looked around and saw a brilliant golden sun in a clear blue sky above and a wall of tall pines encircling the clearing, which was perhaps a hundred feet across. Elves in pale robes stood in the clearing, a short distance away, but Teldin hardly noticed them. Tall grasses and plants brushed his trousers. A cool breeze, laden with the smell of fresh earth, wildflowers, and evergreen trees, caressed his face.
He whirled around, looking for the door, but instead stared straight into a flat rock face a dozen feet high.
Momentarily panicked, Teldin put his hands against the cool rock, searching for an exit. The rock was hard and rough and solid. It looked as if it had been there forever.
"Teldin Moore," said an even, strong voice behind him, "you have come a long way to find us."
Teldin turned quickly, his blue cloak whispering around his legs. There were five elves in the clearing with him, standing in random places in the knee-high grass. The closest one was thirty feet away, a male who came up to Teldin's chin. He had thick, autumn-brown hair, the color of rich, polished wood, and a richly embroidered robe of pale gold and white.
Teldin wondered if he was being toyed with, and the spur of anger got him going. "I am looking for the Imperial Fleet," he said, his voice not as strong as he would have liked. "I need advice."
"We are with the fleet," said the elf simply, looking at Teldin with clear gray eyes. A slight breeze passed through the clearing, rocking the daffodils and grass tops.
Teldin risked one more look behind him at the rock face, then turned back and cleared his throat. "I was told that I should find the fleet… you, that is, by one Vallus Leaf-bower, an elf who was the helmsman for a ship I've been traveling on." Teldin stopped, frowning. "How did you know my name?"
"Did you not identify yourself to the watch at the door?" said the brown-haired elf. Teldin couldn't tell if the elf was serious or making fun of him.
"Yes, I…" Teldin hesitated. They must use magic to spy on people at the door, he realized. It made sense. "You just caught me off guard," he finished. "You said you were with the Imperial Fleet? I might be a little suspicious, but-"
"We are with the fleet," repeated the elf calmly. "I am Uliananor Cirathorn, Admiral of the Sphere." The elf gestured behind him at the other figures in the clearing, never taking his eyes from Teldin. "With me is my personal staff. You have our full attention, Teldin Moore."
Teldin eyed his surroundings again, noticing that two of the admiral's staff were women. "I want to know where we are," he said.
"We are still on the Rock of Bral, in a safe place," said the elf. "Our magic protects us. You will not come to harm here, and your words are held in secrecy." Cirathorn raised his chin slightly. "If you have something important to tell us, please do so now."
Teldin swallowed, feeling out of his depth and feeling some resentment, too, at being told what to do. He knew the admiral had a point, though. He had wasted enough time with that kender earlier, and he was wasting it now. He debated about where to start. There was so much to tell.
"I am being hunted by the neogi, among others, because of the cloak I am wearing," Teldin began. He felt a little more confident now, but he had no idea if the elves would even care to help him. "The neogi have murdered many people to get this cloak, and I don't know why. I need some kind of advice on what this cloak is and what it's supposed to do. And I want to know why the neogi want it so much. Vallus said that you- I mean, the elves-had made this, so you might know of it." The elf s gaze dropped to take in the bright blue cloak that waved in the faint breeze. "What do you already know of this garment?"
"Not a lot," confessed Teldin. He considered describing its powers, but it was a little early to spill everything he knew. "It's magical."
"Magical…" The elf put a slight emphasis on this word. "We need more, Teldin Moore." Showing no reaction to his near pun, the admiral became expectantly silent, looking into Teldin's eyes with mild impatience.
Teldin gave up. He'd never get anywhere unless he told all. Or almost all-he still wanted to keep some of the cloak's powers a secret, like its ability to change his shape. Sometimes it was a good idea to have a few secrets left.
"The cloak has a strange history, and I've been swept along with it," Teldin said. "A reigar woman handed it to me as she died, her spelljammer burning on the ruins of my home and farm on Krynn…." He went on, telling a much-shortened version of the tale of his journey with the cloak. It still took about twenty minutes to get it all out. He hadn't always been good with stories, but a story was all he had to offer.
As he spoke, Teldin watched the elves for their reactions. Several of the robed elves in the background gradually moved closer, their alert faces showing considerable interest. Admiral Cirathorn, on the other hand, merely watched and listened. When Teldin told the theory of the mind flayer Estriss, that whoever made the cloak had also built the enormous and legendary spelljamming ship called the Spelljammer, a muscle twitched in the elven admiral's cheek. Teldin guessed that this revelation might be the key he needed to get the elves' help, for good or for ill. Indeed, the admiral moved closer after that point, though he came no nearer than two dozen feet. Paranoia, perhaps, thought Teldin, but he didn't blame them. They were military people, after all.
Teldin finished his story with his arrival on the Rock of Bral, leaving out only his meeting with the kender, Gaye. He paused, then added, "I have little to offer you for your help, but the lives of many depend on what I do about this cloak." Now it was his turn to wait. He was not accustomed to speaking for so long, and he felt drained. His throat hurt, too. If the elves turned him away, he decided, he would simply leave and find help elsewhere-but he didn't know where.
"You came to us," said Cirathorn, breaking the silence, "because one of our people directed you to us. It is known among our people that a meeting with the staff of the Imperial Fleet is not a light matter. There are many of our people who would go to any length to avoid it, preferring to administer their own solutions to matters, whether we approved or not. Why would this Vallus Leafbower have sent you here? What did he think we could do to help you, Teldin Moore?"
Teldin blinked in astonishment. "I haven't the faintest idea what he thought you could do!" he snapped, feeling his self-control slip away. "Didn't you hear what I said? The neogi want this cloak! They've slaughtered more people for it than I can count, and they're determined to have me dead as well." Stirred by his anger, Teldin reached up and undid the button loops on his shirt front, exposing his bare chest-and the dozens of deep, fiery-red scars that crisscrossed it. The eyes of several elves widened with horror.
"I got these from the neogi," Teldin spat. "I was on their meat tables. I've escaped from mercenaries, draconians, and pirates. I've been attacked and betrayed because of this cloak, and I've seen dozens of people slain for it. The neogi said that if they got this cloak, they could destroy or enslave worlds with its powers-elven worlds among them, I would think. I don't know what you can do for me, but you could do a lot more for me and for your people than you are doing now."
With a violent effort, Teldin bit off his next words. He quickly regretted what he had said, but he was still too angry to care much. If they wanted to throw him out, at least now they had a good excuse for doing it. He'd never liked dealing with most officers and authority types, even when he had been in the army during the War of the Lance. They were fools more often than they were true leaders, except for a few who were either just and fair or too cynical to be anything other than honest.