'I think they've heard your tirade a little too often, my friend,' said the centaur.
'I see that,' CassaRoc agreed, laughing. 'But I'm not wrong, am I?'
The centaur shook his head. 'My friend here needs one of your brews,' CassaRoc told the huge centaur. He clapped Teldin's shoulder. 'Teldin Moore, meet the finest centaur brewmaster in all the known spheres: Mostias.'
'Ahhh,' said the centaur, 'the fabled Cloakmaster.' He bowed his head. 'Come on. I'll draw you an ale.'
Teldin shook his head. 'Just some water, if you will,' he said. 'After the crash and that fight, all I'd like is a mug of water and a place to sleep.'
Mostias nodded and clapped a heavy hand on his back. 'Coming right up.' Teldin stared as the fat centaur shambled to the row of taps lined up behind the bar. He could not believe the centaur's size: his thighs were as big as tree trunks, and his bulbous stomach seemed as large as a cow's. His thick mane shook as he walked.
CassaRoc whispered to Teldin, 'Lazy creatures. 'Sorry we couldn't meet you fast enough,'' he mimicked. 'Right.'
They bellied up to the bar as Mostias finished pouring Teldin a tankard of cool water. 'On the other hand,' CassaRoc said, 'these centaurs are second only to myself at the refined art of brewing.'
Teldin finished his water in several gulps. CassaRoc grasped his glass boot in both hands and opened his mouth wide. Twin streams of ale flowed messily down his chin. He slammed the boot down on the bar and wiped his sleeve across his mouth. 'Ahh, Mostias, that's good!' he cried.
CassaRoc turned around and spoke to the company. 'Now don't go quaffing all the ale you can. Leth, Spokaad, you, too, Hertek. Finish your ales and take positions along the tower. We have a guest-' he glanced at Teldin '-who a lot of our enemies would love to sink their diseased teeth into. Now, drink up! And take your posts!'
His warriors readily agreed and quickly finished their drinks. They nodded at Teldin as they filed out, and CassaRoc gestured Teldin over to an old, wooden table near the center of the room.
Chaladar, the grand knight, casually bowed his head to Teldin. He straightened the ends of his thick, reddish moustache with his fingers, and he said to CassaRoc, 'I'll take the door. I've already placed two men at the entrance to the tower. We should leave within the hour. The neogi may have time to regroup, or even ally themselves with the Long Fangs.' Chaladar gritted his teeth. 'This could be more trouble than we expected.'
CassaRoc nodded. 'Very well,' he said. 'Be on your guard, paladin.'
Chaladar opened the door and stepped just outside the entrance. His broadsword gleamed with a pure silver light, and he ran a hand appreciatively down a flat side. 'Scaleslicer and I are always careful.'
He turned his back to the room and stood watch with his shining sword unsheathed. CassaRoc leaned close to Teldin. 'A good man,' CassaRoc whispered. 'A holy fanatic, of course, but a good man nonetheless.'
Mostias poured Teldin another tankard of water, and CassaRoc led him to a table where they could sit and talk. 'Sorry about your men, and your ship,' CassaRoc said. In his mind Teldin saw the mountain of flames engulfing the Julia, the explosion that had spewed shards of debris across the great ship's wing, and the empty silence that followed, signifying the sudden death that had fallen upon his crew. '1 wish things had been different. I promised them a quest, journeys to spheres no one has ever before seen. They didn't sign on with me simply to die a few months later.'
CassaRoc nodded knowingly and watched him. 'So you're really the Cloakmaster?'
Teldin chuckled ruefully. 'Either I am the Cloakmaster, or the cloak is the master of me. No matter the case, this cloak is what brought me here.'
'Well, we're grateful you're here. I'm grateful you're one of us. And don't worry. Your people will be taken care of.'
'Thanks. Quite a welcome,' Teldin said. 'We would have been killed if it wasn't for you and your men. I had no idea that word had reached you of our approach. To be honest, I never thought anybody here would even know who I was. Or would care.'
CassaRoc took a slow sip of his ale. 'You don't know how long we've been expecting you. There are wizards all over the Spelljammer who have been foretelling the coming of the Cloakmaster for years. But, lately, a lot of rumors have been spreading, especially an ancient beholder myth about the coming of the Cloakmaster. It has the whole Spelljammer on edge. That's why you were attacked. The neogi didn't know- gods, nobody knew- who the Cloakmaster was going to be, and they didn't care. They only know the beholder myth: that the coming of the Cloakmaster will herald the start of the Dark Times.
'They're not taking any chances. The older races know what happens during the Dark Times, and they don't want it to happen again. They're killing all the newcomers to the Spelljammer-to make sure they get the Cloakmaster, and the Dark Times will never come.
'Right now,' he said, 'you can bet that word is spreading across the ship that you are here, and that we've got you. You are going to have a fiendish time here. Everybody wants you… and, I guess, that cloak of yours.'
Teldin had no reply and quietly sipped his water. CassaRoc lowered his voice. 'That's a mighty powerful weapon you got there, son. You know, I don't take easily to a lot of people, but you're all right, Moore. You've been through a lot, and you're ready to take on more. And you saved my life. I owe you.'
'It wasn't me,' Teldin said. 'My cloak- '
'The gods it wasn't! That cloak wouldn't have done a thing if you hadn't willed it. I saw you.'
Teldin thought back. He had learned to control the cloak somewhat, tapping into hidden energies and abilities that only months before he never would have thought existed. He still was not exactly sure what he was doing and what the cloak was responsible for, but he could command its awesome energies for the most part, especially when he let the control come naturally, without concentrating too hard. At least, he figured, if he was not now the compleat master of the cloak, he was well on his way.
'Perhaps,' he said.
'Perhaps. I had no chance against that ignorant umber hulk, not without a decent weapon. Perhaps. Right.'
Teldin looked around at CassaRoc's assemblage. As he spoke, centaurs entered the room, carrying bandages and poultices for CassaRoc's wounded fighters. 'We were lucky out there. Hardly anyone was hurt.'
'I've got good fighters. Those neogi can't compare to a human on a rescue mission. Or on a quest.' He finished the tall boot of ale and slammed it again on the table. 'It's time, Teldin Moore,' he said. 'What's your story?'
With the crash and the immediate battle for his life behind him, Teldin was beginning to feel light-headed and tired, and he was becoming desperate for a soft bunk for the night. Or the day. Whatever they have in the phlogiston, he thought. But a story?
'My story? I don't have a story.'
CassaRoc watched him skeptically. 'You said you were on a quest. What brings you across the Rainbow Ocean, Cloakmaster?'
Teldin's eyes felt heavy from exhaustion. When he looked up, all the humans who had helped battle the neogi were expectantly watching him. 'Well?' CassaRoc said.
'Well,' Teldin began, taking a gulp of water. 'Very well. From the beginning.' He cleared his throat. 'I've come here because the neogi shot down a Spelljammer that destroyed my farm on Krynn, and I was entrusted with some kind of magical cloak that I haven't been able to take off, even for a bath, for about a year.'
The humans stared at him. Somewhere behind him, a centaur whinnied for another flagon of ale. 'You asked,' Teldin said.
'That I did,' CassaRoc said, smiling. He turned to his companions. 'It's going to be a long one, friends, but I think it's going to be good.'
Teldin took a deep breath and started in, explaining the crash of the reigar craft on his farm, and his subsequent quest to remove the ancient cloak that the captain had given him. At first, the warriors listened as would any dubious group: laughing, making jokes and, occasionally, loud, sarcastic remarks. But by the time Teldin recounted his vicious fight with General Vorr and the almost accidental acquisition of the bronze amulet by Gaeadrelle Goldring, not a single warrior interrupted him, nor did they even march back to the centaurs' bar for more of ale.
Teldin told his tale in a calm, even voice, looking back honestly at his own foibles and mistakes, even admitting his misguided trust toward Aelfred Silverhorn and his initial distrust of the giff Herphan Gomja-a mistake
