Consciousness returned slowly. For an immeasurable time, Teldin luxuriated in a relaxed state of half-sleep, half-wakefulness. Thoughts that were almost dreams drifted through his mind. Real events of the past weeks combined with memories of his childhood. People and places mixed and matched in totally illogical combinations. Grandfather and Aelfred collaborated on teaching Teldin to use a short sword, while Estriss and Dana-now inexplicably wearing Teldin's cloak-stood on the forecastle, watching. Throughout, the only emotion he felt was mild puzzlement, not the deep pain that by rights should have accompanied some of the images.
As he drifted closer and closer to full consciousness, he found that he could manipulate some of the thoughts, some of the images. For the first time, he could review events at least somewhat objectively. Lying there, he went over the decisions he'd made, the points where he could have turned the course of events to a different path. There were, he realized, all too few of them. His actions had been more constrained than he'd perceived. At each branch point, he'd really had only one option that made complete sense, and-he saw now-if he'd strayed from the most logical path, the outcome would almost certainly have been worse than it was now. The vast majority of other paths ended with him dead, and with the cloak in the hands of the neogi.
So it was with a grim sense of relief-of exoneration, even of redemption-that he finally returned to full consciousness. The results of his actions still weighed heavily on him-and he knew they always would-but at least now he felt better prepared to bear the burden he'd been given.
He opened his eyes and squinted in the flow-light that poured in through the porthole. For a moment he didn't remember exactly where he was, then memory returned fully. He was in Aelfred's cabin.
He swung himself off the narrow bunk and looked around with interest. He'd expected the first mate's cabin to somehow match the big man's personality and background. There would be mementos mounted on the bulkheads, possibly an old, notched broadsword that he'd taken from a worthy foe or the pennant of a unit he'd fought with. There would be charts and books piled everywhere. It would be a comfortable refuge for a man who needed escape from his responsibilities.
If Teldin had ever considered himself an infallible judge of character, Aelfred's cabin would have destroyed that notion for good. The small cabin was spartan, almost bare. There were no trophies on the bulkheads, no books-in fact, nothing at all that gave it any sense of the owner's personality. A traveling chest-presumably containing Aelfred's personal effects-was at the foot of the narrow wooden bunk. A small desk was bolted to the bulkhead beside the door, and a padded bench was mounted below the porthole. The only thing that matched Teldin's expectations was the chart: there was a star chart on the desk, held in place by small metal clips.
In retrospect, Teldin realized that this was the kind of cabin he should have expected all along. How much time did Aelfred actually spend in his cabin? Virtually none, it seemed. The warrior was always on the bridge or wandering about the ship. To a man like that, a cabin would be a place to sleep, nothing more. Why would he bother to decorate it, or even give it the stamp of his own personality, when he'd have virtually no time to see it?
Teldin smiled to himself. Aelfred was still something of an enigma in some ways, but Teldin was slowly coming to understand the burly warrior better.
He stretched luxuriously. Well, he thought, it's time I was out and about. What time was it, anyway? That was something about shipboard life he'd never quite gotten used to. Whether the ship was in wildspace or in the flow, there was no way to tell what the time was just by looking. You had to depend on the ship's bell, and even then it wasn't obvious what watch it was.
He listened for a moment. The ship was fairly quiet, no loud noises on deck. That didn't mean much, of course. After the battle with the neogi, Aelfred would probably choose to run the ship with as few people on watch as possible and give the others a chance to sleep.
Where was Aelfred, anyway?
Teldin opened the cabin door. A crew member was passing but stopped when she saw Teldin standing in the doorway. She edged back a little, as if to give him plenty of room.
"What time is it?" he asked.
"Two bells, sir."
Teldin raised an eyebrow. "Sir," was it? The level of respect had grown even more than he'd thought. He had to admit it was pleasant, in a way, but it was based on a misinterpretation. Oh, well, he thought, there wasn't much he could do about it now.
Two bells. That meant he'd been asleep for about eight solid hours. He stretched again, enjoying the tension in his well-rested muscles. He gestured with his thumb forward toward the bridge. "Who has forenoon watch on the bridge?" he asked.
The woman looked at him strangely. "It's two bells in the night watch, sir," she told him.
Absently he thanked her, and she went about her business. Night watch meant he'd been asleep for about twenty-four hours. No wonder he felt so fully rested.
"Where's Aelfred Silverhorn?" he suddenly thought to call after the woman, but she'd already vanished down the companionway to the cargo deck. He shrugged. Odds were, the first mate was on the bridge. He started forward.
Then a noise from across the corridor-from the officers' saloon-stopped him. It was a snorting rumble of some kind. At first he couldn't identify it, then a broad grin spread across his face. Quietly he crossed to the saloon door and opened it.
He'd found Aelfred. The first mate was sprawled bonelessly in a chair, booted feet on the table. His arms dangled limply on both sides of the chair, so his fingers brushed the deck. His mouth hung loosely open and gave vent to the rumbling snore Teldin had heard. Gently, Teldin shut the door again. Let the man sleep, he thought, he needs it.
Words formed in Teldin's mind. So you rejoin the land of the wakeful.
There's one problem with mental communication, Teldin thought: you can't tell what direction it's coming from. He looked all around for Estriss.
The illithid approached from the aft end of the corridor. Do you feel better? the creature continued.
"Much better," Teldin replied. "I feel like I've come back to life."
Estriss nodded. You were drained. Not simply tired, but drained. I could sense the difference.
"What does that mean?"
I believe it means that the cloak draws some of its energy from you, the illithid explained. The vast majority of enchanted items do not work in that way. They draw all of the energy they need from elsewhere, and the will of the user is just a trigger, not a power source as well.
Teldin shook his head. There was something emotionally disturbing about what Estriss was saying. "Is it meant to do that?" he asked.
I am certain it is not, Estriss told him. Suddenly, as though realizing for the first time where they were, the illithid glanced around. Some things are best spoken of in private, he said. May we continue this in my cabin?
*****
If Aelfred's cabin was devoid of personality, the mind flayer's cabin was almost overfull. Nearly every square inch of the large cabin's bulkheads was covered with some form of artwork: paintings, tapestries, and art forms that Teldin had never seen before. For example, in pride of place on the aft wall was a large, circular ring of metal more than two feet in diameter. Crisscrossing the ring were fine wires of different colors of metal. Where the wires crossed near the middle of the ring, they twisted and knotted around each other, building up into an intricate interweaving of metal threads. The pattern seemed somehow right on the edge between chaos and order. When Teldin concentrated on the arrangement, the whole thing seemed totally random, but when he didn't concentrate, just let his mind drift and experience the design without analyzing it, he couldn't avoid the feeling that there was some organization, some higher order of pattern, to the wires… but one that was just beyond his mind's ability to perceive.
The paintings and tapestries were more familiar forms of art, but there was something unusual about them, too. In those that depicted scenery or figures, there seemed to be missing detail in certain places-surprising, since overall the works were incredibly intricate. Even the tapestries made up of abstract geometric patterns didn't look right. Otherwise regularly repeating geometric motifs seemed to be broken up here and there by featureless areas of dark red. For some reason, Teldin found those pieces mildly frustrating.
He turned to Estriss, who'd been watching his inspection with obvious interest. "Is this illithid art?" he asked.
It is. How do you find it?
Teldin paused. He suddenly felt a little edgy. How much did he know about Estriss, after all? In the creature's hours of privacy in his cabin, the mind flayer might have been creating these paintings, these tapestries. Teldin didn't want to offend his friend. "Very interesting," he said enthusiastically. "I like them."
Do they convey emotions to you? Estriss asked. He pointed to one tapestry, an intricate tessellation of five-pointed stars, broken here and there by large regions of featureless red. This one, for example. What emotion does it portray to you?
Teldin looked closer at the tapestry. The weaving was incredibly intricate, and it was fascinating the way the stars-each subtly different in shape-interlocked so perfectly, but… "No real emotion," he had to admit.
Estriss looked disappointed. Truly? It is one of the most emotionally evocative works I have ever found. Estriss fixed Teldin with his white eyes. Are you sure? No sense of pride, of exultation?
"None."
The illithid gave a whistling sigh. There seem to be some things that simply cannot cross racial boundaries, he mused. Of course, much of it may be due to differences in our optical apparatuses. He reached out a red-tinged finger and touched one of the featureless patches of deep red on the tapestry. Do you see the continuation of the pattern here?
Teldin looked closer, but the region remained undifferentiated red. "No," he said. "What do you mean?"
To my eyes, the illithid explained, the pattern is as clear there as it is here. He pointed to a region where the stars were strongly contrasting blues and greens.
"How is that possible?"
My eyes are adapted to see farther into the infrared than are humans', Estriss explained. When I see a rainbow, I see two bands of color beyond red, colors that humans cannot see.
Teldin felt a sense of wonder growing within him. "What do they look like, these colors?" he asked.
The illithid's tentacles writhed with amusement. First describe to me what green looks like, he suggested.
Teldin was taken aback. "What? Well, it looks…" His voice trailed off, and he had to smile. "It looks green" he finished. "All right, it was a dumb question."
Estriss gave one of his shattered-spine shrugs. We drift far from the point, he remarked. We were speaking of the cloak.
A little self-consciously, Teldin touched the garment, still a small band around the back of his neck. "You say it drains energy from me," he said. "How?"
There is no way for me to be sure, Estriss admitted. Most enchanted items draw their energy directly from elsewhere- from the Positive or Negative Material Planes, for example- much as do spells.
"I thought wizards were the power source for their own spells," Teldin put in.
Estriss shook his head. Not possible, he said flatly. Do you know how much energy is involved in even the simplest of spells? If that power were drawn directly from the caster, it would leave him exhausted at the very least, but more likely a lifeless husk. No, the energy comes from elsewhere. Now, with enchanted objects-he moved smoothly back to his original point- the energy is focused by the item and directed so as to have on effect in the physical world. It is like-be struggled for an analogy-like when you carry a lantern. The energy of the lantern's light is produced and focused by the lantern it-self, though it is you who directs that energy by moving the lantern. Do you understand?
"I think so," Teldin said slowly. "The cloak is different?"
The cloak is different, Estriss confirmed. When you used magic to defend yourself from your attacker, the power was channeled through you, through your body. It was as if the cloak poured power into your body, then you released that power in the manner and direction that you willed. Was that not how it felt?
Teldin remembered the sensations: the flood of heat through his body, the feeling that he must be burning with light, the terror, the pain, and the ecstasy…. He nodded wordlessly.
In that way, the cloak is different from anything I have experience with, the illithid continued. And there is more. The fact that you were drained after the experience tells me that some of your own energy was added to what was released. You contributed to the power-not much, or else you would now be dead, but to some degree. The mind flayer's facial tentacles writhed, adding to the tone of intensity in his mental words. Do you realize what that means? he asked. It means that you actively participated in using magic, but you are not a mage. I have never heard of anything like this before.
Teldin shook his head again. This was getting deep, and he'd never really had the interest or the determination to worry about philosophy. It was also getting scary. "Is that the way it should work?" he asked.
I seriously doubt it, Estriss replied at once. I think it is a result of you not knowing how to control the cloak's functions. "Is it dangerous?"
I believe it may well be, the illithid told him soberly. Although it was impressive, and highly effective, the power you wielded on the forecastle was relatively minor, as such things go. There is no reason to believe that the display we witnessed is the most powerful capability the cloak possesses. It is possible you may accidentally trigger a facility that is more significant, that will pour more power through your body. It is also possible that your unintended… participation… in this energy flow might permanently damage you.
"Or kill me," Teldin added quietly.
Or kill you.
"What do I do? Never use the cloak? I don't bow how I used it this time."
No, the illithid said sharply. Deciding never to use the cloak is useless. The power was triggered accidentally this time. You did not consciously intend to wield it. It seems likely, perhaps inevitable, that you will again trigger it by accident.
"But, then, what do I do?" Teldin asked desperately. "I can't take the cloak off, and if I don't take it off, eventually it's going to kill me, isn't that what you're saying?" He spat one of Aelfred's mercenary oaths. "The only question is, what will kill me first, the cloak or the neogi?"
There is another way, Estriss cut him off firmly. I said that the draining effect is simply because you are unfamiliar with controlling the cloak. If you were to become familiar, however…
Teldin was silent for several heartbeats, then, "How?" he asked forcefully. "It's never done anything when I've wanted it to, only when it's wanted." He shivered. For a moment, he could almost believe that the cloak on his back was some kind of intelligence-maybe a malign one, considering what had been happening to him lately-that was playing with him like a cat plays with a mouse… before killing it.
Estriss shook his head so violently that his facial tentacles flailed. It is an easy trap to fall into, to ascribe intelligence to the cloak, he said firmly, but I urge you not to fall into it. The cloak has no sentience-none-but… The creature's eyes hooded under double eyelids. But you are right, in a way. The problem lies in triggering the cloak.
"How do you normally trigger a magic item?"
It varies widely, the illithid said. For some, it is a word that must be spoken aloud, or repeated mentally. For others, it is sufficient to visualize the desired outcome. For others still, it is simply an act of will, as when you move your arm. The creature paused. From my research on the Juna, he continued at length, it seems there are other ways. A word of command is, after all, merely a number of symbols-in this case, spoken syllables-strung together in a sequence. There are other kinds of symbols as well. My research implies that some items may be triggered by visualizing a sequence of geometrical forms or relationships. Or even, perhaps, a sequence of emotions. Do you understand?
"Only vaguely," Teldin admitted, "but then I don't really understand how a word can trigger something either." He hesitated. "How does this matter?"
What did you feel, Teldin? Estriss asked intensely. What did you feel, what did you think, when you fought the man on the forecastle? Try to recall.
"I felt fear," Teldin replied instantly. "I thought… I thought I was going to die."
Be more precise.
"I don't know."
I saw your movements, as I tried to reach you. You reached out with your hand, toward your attacker. Why? What were you thinking? What, exactly?
Teldin tried to force his mind back to that moment, but it was difficult. The memory was blurred, indistinct. Yes, the illithid was right. He had reached out. Why? To save himself. To block the swing of that deadly sword…. "To stop him."
How?
"I don't know," Teldin said, "it was just a reflex. It wouldn't have worked."
But you did stop him, Estriss reminded him. Perhaps it was your emotion the cloak responded to, your desire to stop the man, in any way possible. Perhaps it was that desire, that unintentional act of will… if that makes any sense. The illithid thought for a moment. What did you feel when the power was released?
"Heat," Teldin responded, "and light. The cloak burst into light-"
There was no light that I saw, Estriss interrupted.
Teldin frowned. "That's what I felt, though, like the sun at my back, but much more so. The light and heat spread through my body."
You cried out.
"It hurt… but it didn't." Teldin paused, trying to make sense of the memory. "I don't know," he said eventually. "It hurt so much it felt good. Or it felt so good it hurt. I can't really remember which, and I can't be sure I even knew at the time."
Estriss nodded. I wish you to try an experiment, he said. Try to recreate those feelings. I want you to imagine them. Imagine them so strongly that you can feel them again. And-he pointed at the cabin door-I want you to protect yourself from that door.
Teldin gaped. "What?"
The cloak came to your defense once, the illithid said. It saved your life. What good is a defense if you cannot use it at will? I believe you must learn to control the cloak's power, and there is only one way to learn. To experiment. To try. Try for me, he urged. The door is a creature that wishes to kill you, and you must protect yourself. Do it.
Teldin smiled; the illithid's words were so reminiscent of Aelfred's sword lesson. Nevertheless, he had to admit to himself the idea was intriguing, attractive in a grim kind of way. He'd seen Vallus wield magic, to save his own life and the lives of his colleagues, and he'd assumed that such power would forever be beyond his grasp. But here was Estriss, telling him that he may be able to do something similar.
He couldn't ignore the illithid's words about the dangers of the cloak. If Estriss was right, if the only way to prevent the cloak from someday killing him was to become practiced in its use, then he had to try.
He nodded and closed his eyes. Relive the experience, he told himself. I'm back there, I have to do something or I'm dead. He remembered the sense of heat on his back, concentrated on it, tried to feel it once again. Heat and light flaring around his shoulders, pouring into his body, burning through his bones like lightning. The sense of overwhelming energy, licking through him, forcing its way out. Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain. Live it, he told himself. He tried to recreate the sense of power welling up inside him, welling up so strongly it had to go somewhere or he'd explode. He shot a hand out toward the door….
Nothing.
The intensity of the memory faded. He let it go-not without a twinge of sadness-let his concentration slip away. He opened his eyes. His chest burned from holding his breath, and when he wiped his forehead his fingers came away sweat-dampened. "I can't," he said dully.
Estriss nodded. Emotion is a great part of it, I think, he mused. You feared for your life, you wished to do anything to stop your attacker, and the cloak responded to that. The creature paused. If we were to carry the experiment to its logical conclusion, I suppose I should try to attack you. His tentacles gestured amusement. But I fear the experiment might succeed too well.
There is another possibility I would like you to try, the illithid went on, if you are willing.
Teldin took a deep breath to ease the tension in his chest and nodded. "Nothing too drastic," he suggested, less drastic than the last experiment, Estriss assured him. "What is it?"
Let me tell you something mote of my research into the Juna, Estriss suggested.
Teldin looked around for somewhere to sit. There was no mattress on the cabin's bunk, but at least it was flat, so he settled himself on the edge.
The legends and myths that deal with the Juna all seem to share one motif, the illithid went on. In some it is central, in others merely touched on, but it does seem to be common. He paused.
"Go on," Teldin prompted dutifully. "What is it?"
Shapeshifting, Estriss said. The ability to change form, to take on different appearances. Initially I believed that this was symbolic, merely a representation of the ability to adapt to different situations, but as I delved further, I concluded that tie stories were at least partially naturalistic. I believe that the Juna were experts at shapeshifting magic. He hesitated. Will you trust me in this conclusion, or should I explain my evidence?
"I trust you," Teldin answered hastily.
Estriss nodded. If the cloak was created by the Juna, as I suspect, then it may incorporate some form of shapeshifting enchantment. Will you try this for me?
This is getting just too strange, Teldin found himself thinking, but he couldn't say that to the illithid. After all, with what he'd seen over the past couple of days, how could he refuse to consider something just because it sounded bizarre? "How do you mean?" he asked.
Simply put, I want you to try to assume the form of mother. Aelfred Silverhorn, for example.
"How?"
The illithid's mental voice took on a calming, almost fatherly, tone. I realize it sounds outlandish, Estriss said. Or perhaps 'outlandish' is not a strong enough word. Believe me when I say I would not even suggest this if there were not some evidence to support my ideas. He paused. I understand that you feel somewhat embarrassed by this, is that not so?
Teldin had to nod. He didn't quite know why-after all, he and the illithid were the only people in the room-but he did feel embarrassed, even humiliated.
I find it difficult to understand human emotions, Estriss went on. Would it lessen your embarrassment if I assured you that I am not doing this to put you in a position of dishonor?
Teldin couldn't help but smile. The illithid seemed so earnest, so guileless. "Tell me what to do," he suggested.
I can only guess at this, so you must bear with me, Estriss said. First, please close your eyes and build up, in your mind, a detailed picture of Aelfred Silverhorn.
Teldin did as he was instructed. With his eyes closed, he pictured Aelfred's face hanging in space before him. Slowly he let it build in detail: curly blond hair, dose-cropped to the head; bone-white scar above the right eyebrow; lines in his weather-tanned skin, framing steady eyes; lopsided grin.
Do you have it? Estriss asked.
Teldin answered without opening his eyes. "Yes."
Take the next step. Imagine your own face next to Aelfred's. Again, make it as detailed as you con.
Teldin was a little surprised at how much more difficult it was to build up a picture of himself. Surely he should be more familiar with his own face, the one he wore every day? But no, he realized after a moment, that wasn't necessarily the case. When did he see his own face? In the mirror when he shaved each day, and that was about it.
Again he let the picture build in detail: lean face, with finely chiseled cheekbones; tanned skin, even darker than Aelfred's; short hair of sun-bleached brown; network of crow's-feet bracketing bright, cornflower-blue eyes.
Now move your picture of Aelfred's face over that of yours, Estriss instructed. Aelfred's face must totally cover yours. Where the two faces are superimposed, both faces still exist, but only Aelfred's is visible. Do you understand?
In fear that speaking might somehow break his concentration, Teldin nodded wordlessly. In his mind's eye, Aelfred's face moved until it overlaid his own. At first he could see both sets of features in some kind of strange superimposition. Blue and gray eyes stared out of the same sockets; hair that was both brown and blond covered the head. Then, slowly, his own features began to fade from view.
Power! He felt it, a warm tingling in his shoulders, spreading through to his chest. It was a lot more subtle than what he'd felt on the foredeck. In fact, was it really there at all? Or was it just wishful thinking on his part? After what the illithid had told him, he wanted to be able to summon the power of the cloak….
The mental pictures started to fade. With an effort of will, Teldin ignored his questions and the hint of power-if that was what it was-and pushed both from his mind. All that mattered at the moment were the faces he visualized.
In his mental picture, his own features finally vanished. Only Aelfred's remained.
He heard a sharp, hissing intake of breath from Estriss. Slowly he opened his eyes.
The mind flayer was looking at him intently. The illithid's facial tentacles were still. In fact, the creature was as motionless as a statue.
"Did it work?" Teldin asked.
Estriss was silent for a moment, then asked, What do you feel? His mental tone was emotionless, noncommittal.
The illithid's intense scrutiny was making Teldin uneasy. He shifted on the edge of the bunk. "I think I felt something," he said slowly, "but I'm not sure. It could have been my imagination."
How do you feel now? Estriss pressed. Warm? Cold?
Teldin paused. Now that the mind flayer mentioned it, he did feel as if the temperature in the cabin had dropped a couple of degrees. Plus, he felt the thin, somehow edgy feeling he always associated with not enough sleep or not enough to eat. "Slightly cool," he replied at last. "Estriss, did it work?"
Estriss didn't answer immediately, and that was answer enough. Teldin raised a hand to his face, ran his fingers over his nose and cheek….
And snatched his hand away with a stifled cry. It wasn't his face that he'd touched. The nose was broader, tie cheekbones less pronounced. Even the texture of the skin was different. The sensations from his fingers were as if he'd reached out and touched someone else's face, yet the nerves of his face felt his exploring fingers as if nothing at all were amiss. The combination of the prosaic with the alien was shocking-terrifying at some deep level of his being. He sprang to his feet and looked around the cabin for something he could use for a mirror.
Estriss had anticipated his need. The illithid had removed a thin disk of finely polished silver metal from a drawer in the desk and now handed it to Teldin without a word.
Teldin held the mirror at chest level for a few heartbeats. He knew what he was going to see; there would be no surprise. How would it feel to see someone else's face in place of his? How would he react? He took a deep breath and raised the minor.
The biggest shock was that there was no real shock. The face in the polished silver was Aelfred's, there was no doubt about that, but emotionally it had little real impact. It was as if Aelfred was standing beside him and Teldin was holding the mirror at such an angle that it reflected the other man's face. He raised his hand to his cheek again.
That's when the shock struck him, almost powerfully enough to make him drop the mirror. It was the juxtaposition of the familiar and the bizarre again. The muscles of his arm and hand told him that he was raising his hand to his own face. The mirror told him he was reaching for Aelfred's face. The reassuring falsehood that the face in the mirror somehow wasn't associated with his body was shattered. He clenched his jaw to stop himself from whimpering with atavistic dread. In the mirror, Aelfred's face mimicked the movement.
A touch on his shoulder made him jump. Estriss's hand squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. With an effort, Teldin brought his jumbled emotions a little more under control. "I'm all right," he said quietly. Surprisingly, his voice sounded steady in his own ears. He examined the face in the mirror again, this time trying to be more critical and less emotional in his reactions.
There was something wrong with the image, he realized at once-apart from the total wrongness of his wearing the wrong face, of course. The individual features seemed correct, almost perfectly matching his memory of Aelfred, but there was something else, and it took him several moments to recognize it. The face was Aelfred's, but the neck and shoulders beneath it were Teldin's. Aelfred's head was large-in keeping with the rest of his body-and his neck was thick and muscular. In the mirror, the warrior's big head sat atop Teldin's relatively slender neck.
He felt his neck with his fingers. At least there was no discontinuity there; his neck felt the way it always had. Can I change it? he wondered. He closed his eyes and started to concentrate on rebuilding his mental image of Aelfred-the neck too, this time.
The illithid's grip on his shoulder tightened, breaking into his concentration. He opened his eyes again.
Estriss was distressed, that was obvious from the jerky movements of his facial tentacles. No, his mental voice said urgently. Do nothing more, not for the moment. Let us move slowly. Tell me again, what do you feel?
Teldin quickly gave himself a mental once-over. The sense of cold, of somehow being stretched- that was the only way he could describe it, even to himself-was still there. Maybe it was slightly more noticeable. He described the sensation to Estriss.
The mind flayer nodded thoughtfully. Km are sensing the drain, he mused. You are contributing energy to the process. Estriss considered for a moment. The shapechange appears to testable, he went on. Tell me, are you concentrating on maintaining it?
"I don't think so," replied Teldin.
Relax, Estriss instructed. Let go. Let the change slip away.
Obediently, Teldin took a deep breath, held it for a few heartbeats, then released it slowly. He felt tension drain out of his neck and shoulders. He repeated the process again, this time concentrating on relaxing his mind as well as his body, then he raised the mirror. Aelfred's face still looked back at him, and he felt a twinge of fear. What if he couldn't reverse the change? What would he do? "Estriss… ?"
You are right, the illithid remarked, you do not need to concentrate on the new shape to maintain it. It must require an act of will to return to your normal form. That is good.
"But how do I do it?" Teldin snapped.
Try this, Estriss replied at once. Visualize Aelfred's features melting may to reveal your own.
Teldin shut his eyes. He took another calming breath to slow his pounding heart a little, then let the image of Aelfred develop once more in his mind. This time it was much easier, and he was amazed at how quickly the details established themselves. It must be the cloak that's doing this, he found himself thinking, I don't have that good a memory for details.
As Estriss had suggested, he imagined Aelfred's features melting away-becoming transparent and running away like water. Instantly his own, familiar features started to reappear in his mental image. The eyes became blue once more, the hair brown, the bone structure more slender. As his own face appeared, he realized that this felt quite different from when he'd had to first create a mental picture of himself. Then he'd been building up the features from nothing. Now it felt as though the features were already there, independent of his will, and he was merely revealing them. There was no sensation of power this time, not even the hint of it. Instead he felt the cold, stretched feeling fade and eventually vanish. He opened his eyes.
Fascinating. The illithid's voice was a mental whisper.
Teldin raised the mirror and found himself looking into his familiar bright blue eyes. He smiled with relief, and the smile in the mirror was his own.
How do you fed now? Estriss asked.
"Fine."
Are you not tired?
Teldin hesitated. "A little tired, I suppose," he said, "as though I'd walked a few miles." He hesitated. "What does it look like?" he asked suddenly. "The change…"
It looks… unusual, Estriss answered. Your face appears to be concealed by a gray haze, similar to a smudge on a painting. When the haze vanishes, the change is complete. It was the illithid's turn to hesitate. I will admit, he said slowly, that I am glad for the haze. The sight of your features rearranging themselves-openly, without concealment-would, I think, be highly disturbing to me. He shook himself, as if to drive away an uncomfortable thought or image. Will you perform one more test for me?
"What is it?"
Take on another face, Estriss urged, someone other than Aelfred. I wish to see if you find it easier the second time. Just the face, he added. There is no need to risk overreaching yourself. First, however, do you object to having Aelfred Silverhorn witness this? I believe it is important that he knows-both because he is your friend, and because he should know anything that might have some significance to running the ship.
Teldin hesitated. He agreed that Aelfred should know about this, but he knew that the big warrior felt uncomfortable about magic. Plus, "He's asleep," Teldin told the illithid.
Estriss shrugged. I have called him. If he answers the call, he was not asleep. I repeat, do you object?
"No."
There was a sharp rap on the door. The illithid's mental voice rang out, Come in.
It was Aelfred, of course. The big man looked bedraggled, Teldin noted immediately: short hair in disarray, face pale, and the skin below his eyes puffy. He might have slept, but it certainly hadn't been enough. "Yes?" he said, his voice still a sleep-roughened burr.
The warrior's quick eyes took in the scene-both Teldin and Estriss standing, tense, in the middle of the room-and his face lit up with interest. "Oh ho" he rumbled. "Having a deep little discussion, are we? Any more surprises for us, Teldin, old son?"
We wish you to witness something. Estriss's mental voice was calm, reassuring. We think you should be aware of it. The illithid turned to Teldin. Do it as quickly as you can, the creature instructed. As part of the test.
Teldin nodded and closed his eyes again.
He could tell immediately that it was going to be much easier this time. A detailed vision of his own face sprang to mind instantly-almost as though it had been there all along, just waiting for him to need it. Whose should be the other race? he wondered.
He wasn't even aware that he'd decided until the image appealed in his mind. He let the new face superimpose itself over his own….
"By all the gods… !" Aelfred's voice was hushed, amazed-horrified?
Teldin opened his eyes. Another familiar face was staring back at him from the mirror-one with tight-curled brown hair and dark, flashing eyes. Teldin reached up with his hand and touched the cheek of Dana, the gnome. I can't bring you back, he thought, but if I can learn enough about my burden that it won't claim any more innocent lives, as it claimed yours, at least that'll be something. He turned Dana's eyes on Aelfred.
The burly warrior was staring in open stupefaction. He blinked his eyes hard, as if to clear them, then he shook his head. "I don't believe it," he said flatly. "I out and out don't believe it. Teldin, this is your doing?" He instantly answered his own question. "Of course it is-who else's?" He shook his head again, then his face suddenly split in its familiar asymmetrical grin. "By the gods," he roared, "I can think of some situations where I wish I could have done that."
Estriss kept his white eyes fixed on Teldin. That was considerably faster than the first time, he announced. This change took perhaps ten seconds, the first almost a minute. How do you feel?
"Well," Teldin started… and stopped. When he'd worn Aelfred's face, he hadn't consciously noticed the fact that his voice was unchanged. Now, though, his male voice was coming from Dana's female lips. Until that moment, the fascination-and the personal fear-of what he was doing had filled his mind. The initial shock had faded, however, and the consequences of what he was doing really began to penetrate.
This is wrong, he found himself thinking, very wrong. He shut his eyes and melted away Dana's features as quickly as he could. He checked the mirror. Yes, he was Teldin again. A little shakily, he sat down on the illithid's bare bunk.
Estriss was watching him fixedly. What is wrong? he asked. Was there pain? Exhaustion?
"No," Teldin mumbled. "No, none of that."
The cold you felt the first time, was it repeated? More intense, or less?
"What? Oh, less. Much less."
How do you feel now? Are you more tired than you were before?
"A little. Not much."
The illithid might have had another question, but Aelfred's deep voice cut him off. "What's wrong, Teldin?"
"This is," Teldin snapped. "This whole thing. Putting on somebody else's face."
Estriss's tentacles gestured incomprehension. Why? Why is this wrong?
"It is." Teldin hesitated, searching for the right words to communicate what he felt so clearly inside. "It's a lie," he tried. "I… I was brought up to value the truth, both in myself and in others. The truth. It's what I've always worked toward. It's…" Suddenly he recalled a phrase from a book his grandfather had given him years ago. " 'The truth is a light,' " he quoted, " 'a light that banisheth the shadows which beset us.' Do you understand what I'm saying? This-" his gesture included himself, the cloak, the mirror "-this is a lie."
There was silence for more than a dozen heartbeats, then Aelfred asked gently, "You probably wouldn't feel so strongly if you hadn't chosen Dana's face, would you, now?"
Good question, part of Teldin's mind responded. Would I? Probably not. He shrugged.
The experiments may have disturbed you, Estriss said firmly, but they were important and valuable. Consider what we have learned. The cloak has powers related to shapeshifting, which are now under your control. The first time you used this power, you felt the drain quite strongly, but the second time you found it much easier and the drain was considerably less. Is that not so?
Teldin had to agree.
Then you are starting to control the tendency to give up your own energy, Estriss continued. Correct? And finally… He leaned forward urgently. Finally, you have gained a great advantage over those who may be pursuing you. Do you not see that? They may be searching for a man of six feet with short brown hair. Would they spare a second glance it a woman of five feet with blond hair to her waist?
Teldin nodded slowly. That was true, but… "What if they can track the cloak itself?" he asked.
If that is the case, there is nothing you can do, but are we certain that everyone whose hand is turned against you can detect the cloak itself? It seems to me much more likely that only some few have this ability, if any. Against the others, you now have a significant advantage.
"It's one I'm not comfortable with," Teldin muttered.
Perhaps that comes from lack of focus, Estriss replied. To his surprise, Teldin sensed more emotion in the illithid's mental voice than ever before. I heard what you said about valuing what is true. For myself, I would extend that. I value what is right. How best can we, both of us, serve the right, Teldin Moore? By allowing this cloak of yours to fall into the hands of the neogi? Or by doing whatever is in our power to prevent that? I know what my answer must be.
The illithid turned away suddenly and busied itself with returning the silver mirror to the desk drawer. It was almost as if Estriss felt embarrassed by his emotional outburst, Teldin realized with surprise.
Aelfred was watching him silently, understanding in the big man's eyes. Teldin bowed his head. "You're right," Teldin said quietly. "Thank you for reminding me of that."
Estriss shrugged off the thanks. It is only logical, he said. What is also logical is that you should practice this ability of the cloak every day, perhaps several times each day. The drain you felt was less the second time, but it was still there.
"I don't know what in all the hells you're talking about," Aelfred rumbled, "but just on principle I back the captain. Practice. It's important." He was silent for a moment, then went on, "One thing: I don't think it's a good idea to let the rest of the crew know about any of this. I think they've accepted you as some kind of warrior-mage-" he snorted with amusement at this "-so that won't worry them, but if they don't know if the person they're on watch with is who they think it is, or it's you practicing… It's going to do something to morale, if you get my drift."
"I understand."
Aelfred slapped Teldin comradely on the arm. "Well," he said, "if you don't have any more miracles to show me, I should get back on duty. We've got some of the new inductees on the rigging, and if I don't keep an eye on them, we're just as likely to end up back at Krynn as we are at Realmspace." He grimaced. "I know it's a touchy subject, but your diminutive friend, Horvath, has threatened to oversee repairs. Scary."
*****
Despite Aelfred's misgivings, the remainder of the journey through the flow was notable for its lack of mishaps. The "new inductees," as Aelfred called them-actually the surviving members of the deathspider's boarding party-seemed to integrate with the rest of the Probe's crew without any major difficulties. Over the first couple of days after the battle, Teldin could tell a "new inductee" a ship-length away. There was something about the way they walked and stood, as though they wished they could sink into the deck or the bulkhead and just fade from view-"trying to look invisible" was Aelfred's phrase for it. If anyone spoke to them-or even looked at them-they flinched, as though they expected to be beaten. Or worse, Teldin speculated, remembering his own experiences with neogi on Krynn.
Plus, they had a tendency to stand around, trying to look invisible, unless they had specific orders to do something. On the third day after the battle, Teldin saw a perfect example of this. One of the hammership's regular crewmen-a little man named Garay-was standing on the rail, cleaning the sheaves of a rigging block with a marlin spike. As he shifted position, the spike fell from his hand. It landed on the deck, barely a foot in front of a new inductee named Tregimesticus, who just stood there, looking at the spike near his feet.
"Well?" Garay called down from the rigging. "Aren't you going to pick the bloody thing up?"
Tregimesticus jumped as though he'd been whipped, snatched the spike off the deck, and scampered up the rigging to place it right into Garay's hand.
When the man was gone, Garay climbed down and came over to where Teldin was standing. "Dead from the neck up," the crewman grumbled. "I'll be flogged if any of them come around to right thinking."
Surprisingly, though, some of them did start to come around. Perhaps they were the ones who hadn't been aboard the death-spider as long-nobody felt comfortable asking, of course-or perhaps they were just the ones who naturally had stronger wills. In any case, of the ten "new inductees," four seemed slowly to be returning to the land of the living. They started talking to the other crew members-even when they hadn't been spoken to first-and even began to strike up friendships. The other six, including Tregimesticus, didn't seem so lucky or so adaptable. They followed orders with a speed that made the regular crew of the Probe look like sluggards, but they never showed anything that could be mistaken for initiative, and they kept the habit of trying to look invisible.
In any case, the voyage progressed uneventfully. For Teldin, it was a pleasurable time. There was something comforting about the strict routine aboard the Probe. Aelfred returned him to normal watch-standing, which meant that eight hours out of every day was spent scanning the flow for possible danger. The rest of the time he was free to do as he liked. He still shared the cabin with the three surviving gnomes-Horvath, Miggins, and Saliman, but found that his watch-standing schedule was opposed to theirs; when they were on watch, he was asleep, and vice versa.
This didn't mean that they never met, of course. As soon as he had time after the battle, Teldin made a point of tracking down Miggins. He found the young gnome in the starboard side stateroom that had been converted into an infirmary for the many injured in the deathspider's attack. Teldin found it uncomfortable to enter the cabin-like many people who depended on health and strength for their livelihood, he found it deeply disturbing to be around those who were physically impaired-but he forced his qualms out of his mind and put on a smile.
Miggins was almost indecently glad to see him. Although he hadn't seen it, he'd heard about Teldin's exploits on the forecastle. As always, the tales had grown with the telling, and Teldin found that he'd become a sort of personal hero to the youth. Teldin was a little troubled about this but decided this was neither the time nor the place to change Miggins's attitude.
Miggins was progressing well and was glad to tell Teldin all about it. His left arm was grievously wounded, and there was a significant chance that he'd never regain full use of it, but at least the healers' initial concern-that they'd have to amputate to save the gnome's life-had turned out to be baseless.
Conversation had inevitably turned to Dana, "I miss her," Miggins had admitted, "but, you know, I could never really think of her as a gnome. She was more like one of you big folk. She was never too interested in the way things work, and she liked action much more than she did talk."
Teldin had nodded, remembering her feisty manner and the way she'd tried to stand up to Aelfred in the longboat.
"Ah, well," Miggins had continued, "at least she died the way she always said she wanted to-in battle."
Another one who died a "good" death, Teldin had found himself thinking. What would be a good death for me? Or does it really matter?
The injured gnome tired easily, so he'd left soon thereafter. It had saddened him to talk about Dana, but in another way it had been somehow freeing, as if in talking about her-celebrating her existence-he'd come to terms with her passing.
In the days that followed, even though he didn't see the gnomes, he was reminded of their existence by shipboard gossip. Virtually everyone aboard had a favorite "gnome story," about how the small creatures would have "remodeled" the Probe if somebody hadn't caught them before the damage was done. Teldin's favorite was Miggins's suggestion that a hole be cut in the hull to allow the underside of the hammership to be used as a secondary weapons platform. Explanations that this would make the vessel as seaworthy as a brick when it put down on water didn't dissuade the young gnome. All he did was come back with a bewildering description of baffles and gaskets to solve the problem. Predictably, some of the less patient crew members threatened the small creature with death if he so much as mentioned the idea again.
When he wasn't sleeping, Teldin had taken to wandering the ship and talking with those crewmen he met. This had turned out to be a very good idea. Initially the crew had treated him with a respect that contained a healthy measure of fear. They'd stayed out of his way-after all, wasn't he a fighter-mage who could cut them in two or burn them down in their tracks?-and called him "sir." Teldin had decided that the best way to react to this was not to react at all. If he'd told them not to call him sir, he knew they'd have stopped, but that would just have reinforced the aura of authority that he'd inadvertently acquired. Instead, he'd chosen to talk with them exactly the same way he had when he'd first come aboard the Probe. Let them call him sir. He'd chat with them the way he always had and ask the same naive questions.
To his surprise, this tactic had worked, and quickly. At first, most of the crew had been a little reticent in answering him, but he'd just talked on freely, and he could almost feel the reserve melt away. The first time that a crewman had laughed at one of his questions and clapped him companionably on the shoulder, he'd taken it as a major victory. Within a couple of days, the crewmen of the Probe were treating him as one of them-in fact, more so than they ever had. The one exception was that they never asked him about what happened on the forecastle, or about any details of his apparent powers.
That was all to the good, he figured. Let them reach their own conclusions. It was highly unlikely that anyone would guess the cloak's significance. The fewer people who knew about that, the safer he felt.
The fact that his watches and those of the gnomes were staggered turned out to be a blessing. He knew, for example, that there were eight hours out of each day when he'd be alone in the cabin. At those times, he could shut the door, secure it with a small wooden wedge, and know he wouldn't be interrupted. Each day he took advantage of the privacy to practice the cloak's shapeshifting abilities.
Estriss was right, it turned out: Each time he used the power, it became easier. The chilled, strained feeling lessened steadily until it vanished altogether, and the residual fatigue also faded away. His control improved significantly as well. He could now change his face in two or three heartbeats, and without the total concentration the first few shifts had required.
His control now extended to more than his face. Carefully, he'd experimented with changing the appearance of his body as well. He was still cautious with this part of it. Never had he tried any major changes-like shrinking to the size of a gnome or expanding to the bulk of an umber hulk, for example-but he now regularly altered his build to match Aelfred's muscular physique or Vallus's willowy bone structure.
No matter how hard he tried, however, he couldn't affect the clothes he wore. When he took on Aelfred's physique, his jerkin almost burst at the seams; when he duplicated Vallus or Sylvie, his clothes hung on him like a tent. The only exception was the cloak itself: whatever form he took, it subtly enlarged or contracted to fit perfectly around whatever neck he happened to have at the time.
His voice was also a problem. At first he'd assumed that, when he took on Aelfred's body, the larger chest cavity would give him the same booming voice as the first mate. It didn't happen that way, however. If there was any change in his voice, it was of the utmost subtlety-and he couldn't be totally sure that even this wasn't wishful thinking. Whether he looked like Aelfred Silverhorn or Vallus Leafbower, he always sounded like Teldin Moore. The contrast was even more noticeable when he took on the form of Sylvie, the navigator, or Julia, the second mate. Although the throat and mouth were female, the voice was most definitely male. There was absolutely no way he could use the cloak's powers to impersonate another person if the "audience" had ever heard the real pet-son speak.
That was just as well, he concluded. He still felt there was something inherently wrong with taking another's form, no matter what the motive. The knowledge that it was impossible to take another's complete identity was somehow reassuring.