The Maelstrom Eye

'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.

Cirathorn's gaze had become distant while Teldin spoke. He said nothing when Teldin finished, though some of his staff members moved close together to whisper to each other. A new breeze ruffled cloaks and hair.

'I remember Aerlofalyn,' Cirathorn said, without emotion. The other elves fell silent at once. 'It is a world you would not have heard of, Teldin Moore. Aerlofalyn was a garden world in another sphere, a world of wind and air across which great islands and continents drifted like leaves on the bright surface of a river. My father's father was from Aerlofalyn, and his father before him, and every ten years my family would meet on the island estates for a feasting and celebration that would last for a hundred days. My father's father was married there, and all his fathers before him. It was paradise.'

The other elves stared at the admiral as if they were statues. Cirathorn looked at Teldin but did not seem to see him.

'You have heard, I have no doubt, of the Unhuman War,' the admiral continued. 'It is called that among your people because humans felt it had so little to do with them. The depredations of goblins across the spheres had little meaning for the human masses on the ground. Do not be too offended, Teldin Moore, if I say that an attitude like that is typical of your kind. Humans rarely care about the fate of others.'

Teldin's face flushed, and his fists clenched tightly. He was on the verge of calling the elf a liar and worse when Cirathorn started to walk toward him with a slow tread. 'A war fleet of the enemy fell upon Aerlofalyn in my father's father's time. My father was sent away with his sisters at the last hour, aboard a secret vessel that escaped to another sphere, where they stayed with relatives. He returned to Aerlofalyn in seven years at the vanguard of a war fleet of his own. He landed upon the island where he had been bora, where he had learned to speak, where he would have taken his wife. There he buried the bones of all who had remained behind. He buried bones that were burned, bones that were broken, bones that were gnawed upon. He buried a world and a family line. The name Aerlofalyn is rarely spoken by our people, except in our memories and when we gather to remember the dead and all that has passed.'

Cirathorn stopped. He appeared taller now, though it could have been only a trick of the light. 'I have been to Aerlofalyn, Teldin Moore. I know about murdered worlds. Every ten years now, I go there, just as ray father took me, and for a hundred days I mourn.'

Teldin and Cirathorn stared at each other. Suddenly the elf roused himself and saw Teldin as if the man had just appeared before him. 'We have been poor hosts, and we ask your forgiveness. Please join us for our next meal. We will eat in peace together and speak of your cloak and your concerns.' Without waiting for Teldin's answer, Cirathorn turned and called behind him, at the forest. 'Siol tath, alwe doe maith' he said. As he turned back to Teldin, the sky grew darker, as if a cloud were passing over the face of the sun.

'Forgive our fantasies, too, Teldin Moore,' said the elf, as the entire forest around them faded into darkness. Teldin looked wildly around as the elf continued speaking, unperturbed. 'We have become creatures of the past,