CassaRoc blotted up the ale with a cloth. "Calm down, Cloakmaster," he said. "Save your energy for your enemies."
Teldin glared at him silently from across the table, then sat down and stared at the wall. CassaRoc quaffed his ale.
Teldin seldom became angry like this; usually he was too even tempered to explode in front of his friends, or to get carried away by strong emotion. But the anger had been building in him since they had come down to the common room, and the Cloakmaster's frustration at the attempts on his life over the past year or so- all for a gods-damned piece of cloth! — was boiling over.
"Why?" Teldin shouted. He slammed his fist down again.
"Why?"
"I don't know why!" CassaRoc shouted. "Fear! Your enemies all want what you've got, so the Dark Times will not fall on them."
Teldin settled back in the wooden chair and glared at the floor. "I'm just so sick of it all," he said to no one. "I didn't come rushing into the flow because I wanted to. It was this!" He fingered the cloak. "You know, it's not like I had much of a choice." He paused and picked up a glass of cool water, drinking half of it in a single gulp. "I've had friends betray me, friends die on me. Enemies have tried to kill me- people I didn't know and had never heard of. When is it going to stop?"
"It's not going to stop," CassaRoc remarked. "It's going to get worse."
Teldin stared at him silently.
"Everybody knows you're here now. Everybody knows you're the Cloakmaster. And everybody wants your power. From what you've told me, it's been like this ever since you started your quest, and it won't end until you… well, do whatever you have to do on the Spelljammer."
Teldin looked away. "You're right." he said. "But how? What do I have to do? Is there anyone or anything that could help me, point me in the right direction? I need this quest over with. I need answers, and I need them before anyone else dies."
"Or before you do." CassaRoc shook his head and took a drink. Well, there is one place I can think of."
"Where?"
CassaRoc grunted. "The library tower. No one has been in there in my memory. There are a lot of stories built up about the place."
"Such as?"
"Supposedly, all the accumulated journals and logs of the Spelljammer's captains and mages are collected there. They say the tower is protected, though."
"Protected by whom?"
The warrior laughed. "Not who. What. The story goes that Neridox, a wizard, sealed himself up in the library years ago. If anyone breaks in to plunder, Neridox's spirit is supposed to rise and attack all who enter."
Teldin scratched his beard. "But this is just a story, isn't it? You don't know any of this for sure?"
"Aye, just a story, but the library has remained sealed for as long as I remember. I wish there were a map we could use, instead, and follow that."
Teldin stared off again. There was something he knew he should remember, something important…
The dream! He had dreamt in the night. Disjointed images of beings, like the Spelljammer, but much, much smaller; a burst of magic and energy; and she, Gaye Goldring, had come to him. The amulet had burned on his bare chest. She had given him a message… What was it?
The closest are not what they seem.
Cwelanas, he knew in a flash of insight. Gaye was warning me about Cwelanas.
The mark will show the trust.
Yes. Cwelanas, again, he believed. The mark proved to him that she was not acting with her own will, but was under the insidious command of the neogi. She could be trusted, he knew now, and he was instantly relieved that his love, this time, had not been misplaced.
There was a third message. What was it Gaye had said?
CassaRoc had said something about a map to follow.
Follow the woven heart.
"Follow the woven heart," Teldin said. CassaRoc looked at him. "Follow the woven heart," he repeated.
"What in the hells of Areas does that mean?"
Teldin said, "I'm not sure. I had a dream last night, before Cwelanas attacked me."
"And?"
"I knew a kender once, long ago. She's the one who found this amulet. I dreamt about her. I think she was trying to give me a message. Two of the things she said have already come true. She tried to warn me of the attack, and she spoke of the slave tattoo. And she told me, 'Follow the woven heart.' "
CassaRoc grunted. "Dreams can be powerful things. What do you think it means, a woven heart? Like sewing?"
Teldin shrugged. "I don't know. The cloak, perhaps?" He ran the material through his fingers. "I don't know all its properties. Maybe it could lead me to the ship's helm."
"How? How do you use the cloak normally?"
"Usually I concentrate on what I need done. Other times, it works for me unconsciously."
"Try to use it now. See if that's what she meant." Teldin pulled the cloak around him. He concentrated on the ship, and an image of a ship's helm: a sturdy chair facing into the flow. He waited for the familiar tingle of energy that was both warm and cool, but he could tell he was trying too hard. The powers of the cloak remained dormant.
He shifted in the hard chair and clasped the cloak's edges in his hands. He let his mind go free, allowing the magic to enter his being.
… He opened his eyes and sighed. "Nothing." "All right," CassaRoc said. "So we wait. We'll figure it out eventually. It has to mean something, right?"
Teldin stared off, trying again to summon the energies of the cloak, then he gave up for the night.
A guard entered the common room and walked straight to CassaRoc. "Sir," he said, then he nodded to Teldin. "Cloakmaster, there are two visitors at the tower gate who wish to see you."
"Together?" asked CassaRoc.
"No," said the guard. "One is a mind flayer." Teldin and CassaRoc both looked alarmed. Illithids were dangerous enemies. "He asked for the Cloakmaster by name. He says his name is Estriss, and he wishes to see the Cloakmaster. The other is Stardawn, of the elves, who wishes to speak with you both. I have them separated,"
"Good," CassaRoc said. "We don't need mortal enemies going at each other in my tower." "Estriss?" Teldin said. "Estriss is here?"
CassaRoc smiled. "You know him? Well, now we're getting somewhere," he said. "Send them up to my quarters. Escort them together. We'll meet them up there." The guard hurried out, and the warriors stood and stretched. "Estriss may be able to help me. He's been searching the spheres for the Juna-the supposed creators of the Spelljammer. If anyone aboard can answer my questions, it is he." "I hope so, Teldin," CassaRoc said. "For if you don't get this quest of yours over with, I fear you may not survive another day."
"The war for the Spelljammer has begun," said Lothian Stardawn, leader of the Elven High Command, "and you, Teldin Cloakmaster, are solely responsible."
Stardawn was a haughty, ambitious elf who took care to appear impressive and commanding at all times. His armor was highly polished, and his apparel was made of the finest elven cloth. His long hair was swept back from a sharp widow's peak above his forehead. He stared at the Cloakmaster, the elf s sparkling gray eyes glinting like tempered steel. They seemed to pierce Teldin's bravado; the Cloakmaster instinctively wanted to take a step back from the aggressive elf, but he forced himself to hold his ground and stare the elf down in return.
In the doorway, a mind flayer appeared. Teldin's face involuntarily broke into a smile. "Estriss," he said, holding out his hand. "Our meeting again seems more than circumstance."
Estriss was shorter than the typical mind flayer, or perhaps his bearing was merely less alarming. His black and purple robes flowed about him, and he made an effort to overcome the shock that CassaRoc wore on his face. The illithid took Teldin's hand in his clawed mauve appendage. His voice rang softly in Teldin's mind. So, Cloakmaster, you have arrived at last. "You've been expecting me?"