bound by our memories. This forest was how my father's father's home once appeared, given birth again through the magic of illusion. It is a weakness in which I indulge for the sake of impressing company.'
Now, Teldin saw dim, distant walls arching over his head in place of a sky, as if he stood beneath a vast, overturned bowl whose ceiling was studded with tiny starlike lights that gave off light of increasing brightness. Teldin could see great patterns carved into the ceiling itself, weaving around the unfamiliar constellations displayed there. The rock face behind him had faded and become a wooden door, which he could now tell was banded with iron and painted with symbols.
'This is our reality,' said Cirathorn, sweeping a hand around him. 'We are sheathed in old rock beneath the surface of the Rock of Bral. The doorway on the surface brought you here by our magic, a teleporter of sorts. You may speak and rest in safety, as I have said. My staff will show you to a room where you may bathe and don new clothing if you so choose. You are our guest.'
Teldin's voice found its way back to him. 'I could probably use a bath,' he said. 'My ship is in the docks for the next few days. I don't think I'll be missed right away.' Even as he spoke, it dawned on him that he sounded as if he was inviting himself to stay here. It wasn't quite what he'd meant.
It seemed to make no difference. Cirathorn, his robes whispering around him, had already turned to leave the domed hall, gesturing for one of his staff to stay behind and the rest to follow him. 'We are pleased to have you, Teldin Moore,' the admiral said on his way out. 'Your visit should be very educational for us all.'
*****
A slim young female elf with gleaming black hair showed Teldin through a vine-covered stone corridor, away from the domed hall. Light spilled from hand-sized glass figurines mounted in the ceiling, each one made to resemble a flying bird. Pushing open an oaken door at the first bend in the corridor, the elf showed Teldin the room beyond. It was the size of the largest inn room Teldin had ever seen, and it contained a sunken bath, a bed, several tables and cushioned chairs, some slim books and rolled scrolls on a shelf, and a wardrobe filled with clothing of every size.
The young girl looked uncomfortably like Gaye in certain respects, but she was interested only in explaining how the bath pump worked, where he could find the dining hall, and where the sanitary facilities were. She nodded and left when Teldin said he needed nothing more.
The memory of Gaye reminded him of something else, and Teldin checked his belt pouches and pockets to find out what, if anything, the kender had 'borrowed' from him. To his astonishment, he still had everything he had started out with when his ship had docked. No kender he had ever heard of had resisted an opportunity to pick a pocket. He went through his inventory twice, but he was missing nothing. He shrugged and decided a bath was in order before changing.
An hour later, he was standing near a glowing swan lamp, examining a volume of woodcuts showing landscapes and portraits, when the door opened again. It was Cirathorn. Teldin didn't recognize him for a few moments, as the elf had changed clothes, too. He was now wearing a suit of silver-bright plate armor over which a black tabard was hung, bearing a complex design of a many-colored butterfly against a starry background. The elf wore no helmet, but he wore silken black gloves and high, star-speckled black boots.
'Is everything satisfactory?' asked the admiral.
Teldin flushed. 'Actually, I wasn't prepared to be served like this.' He quickly shut the book and put it on a side table. He could read only with great difficulty, and he was too embarrassed to admit that he had only been looking at the pictures.
'We will be having dinner with other guests in two hours,' Cirathorn continued. 'You may rest comfortably until then. With your permission, however, I would like to examine your cloak. I wish only to look at it in the light here, without attempting to remove it from you. Would that be possible?'
Others had touched the cloak without incident. 'I think so,' Teldin said, feeling a little nervous. 'Don't try to cut it, though. The cloak will shock you if you do.'
Cirathorn spread his hands as he approached. 'I have no intentions of harming either you or the cloak.' He reached out and carefully took hold of the fabric at Teldin's right arm. Nothing happened. The admiral pulled up the cloak and moved toward the nearby light. Teldin obliged by standing closer to it as the elf began his examination, watching the elf s narrow fingers probe gently at the silky inner lining with its complex geometric pattern. For a moment, Teldin was reminded of Estriss and the movement of the mind flayer's long, four-jointed mauve finger as it pointed out the subtle pattern of a three-petaled flower in the weave of the lining.
The admiral made no comment during the long minutes he spent looking at the cloak. Teldin looked at it as well, wondering what, if anything, the admiral was able to see in it that Teldin or Estriss had not. After a time, the admiral slowly released the cloak and let it fall again.
'Did you find anything?' Teldin could not resist asking.
'It is authentic,' said Cirathorn in a distant voice. 'I must go back to the library and speak with the loremaster again. I will tell you more later, at dinner.' He suddenly turned to leave, looking back once as he opened the door. The admiral's gaze lingered on Teldin
The time crawled by so slowly that Teldin believed he would go mad. He was lying on the bed, trying to relax enough to get rid of a headache, when the door opened again. Another young elf, this one a blond male, motioned for Teldin to follow him. 'Dinner is about to be served, good sir,' the elf said. 'I could have waited a while longer,' muttered Teldin, pulling on his boots. He decided that maybe he could nibble a few items, just to be polite.
The hemispherical dining hall was smaller than the starry hall, but much brighter and more comfortable-looking. A circular table surrounded by soft chairs took up the middle of the room. No other furniture was present; the entire floor was covered with a carpet, too, Teldin noticed. Bowls of fruits and finger-foods were scattered around the table. Glowing globes and figurines hung from the ceiling, spilling bright yellow light everywhere. To Teldin's surprise, living vines crawled up the walls, encircling carved wooden figures of elves, many with wings, that graced the decorative pillars. The air inside was cool on his face and smelled fresh, as if it had just rained.
Perhaps a dozen elves were already seated at the table and chatting softly and animatedly when Teldin was escorted in. They all looked in his direction, but they never stopped their conversations or made any move to welcome him. He looked about, pulling his cloak around him, and took a place to the right of one of the staff members Teldin remembered seeing earlier in the forest illusion. While he didn't understand Elvish, Teldin found he was able to make out the gist of what the elf was saying-all gossip about the goings-on around the Rock, he realized. He was almost disappointed, though he wasn't sure what he had expected. Teldin sighed and ate a small piece of fruit, trying not to look as out of place as he felt. Why were the elves ignoring him? Was he just some kind of groundling peasant to them?
It was then that he heard a scratching noise, and he turned to his right and noticed a gnome two seats away. He was too short to be seen over the top of his chair. The scratching noise came from the movement of the gnome's pen across a folded-up page of parchment. Like many gnomes Teldin had known, this one had brown skin with short-cut, silky white hair; a large bald spot showed on top of his head. A pair of gold-wire spectacles perched halfway down the gnome's broad nose.
Teldin smiled. What was the Gnomish word for hello? There was a phrase that the gnomes with whom he had traveled into wildspace had always called to each other while they were aboard ship. The cloak hadn't bothered to translate it for him. How did it go?
The gnome started and looked up, blinking in surprise. 'What?' he said in a high, nasal voice. 'Why should I get out of your way? Am I blocking your view?' The gnome looked to his right for anything Teldin might be trying to see.
Teldin winced. So that's what the gnomes had been saying! 'No, no! Just forget it,' he said hastily. 'I'm Teldin Moore. Pleased to meet you.' He scooted a little closer to hear the gnome better.
The gnome stared at him for a moment. 'Teldin Moore?' he asked, his voice rising in puzzlement. 'Teldin Moore. You're the one with the magical pants?'
'Cloak,' Teldin corrected, picking up an edge of his blue garment. The gnome squinted at the cloak, then sat back, raising his pen and obviously looking to end the conversation. 'Ergonomic fabric design was not my life quest,'
