Something else had changed, too. For the first time, he could feel a cool, salt breeze on his face. As the Probe had soared in for its landing, the air on deck had been totally still. Now that the ship was virtually at rest, a steady wind blew across its bow from out of the west. He mentioned it to Rianna.

"Of course," she answered. "When the helm goes down, so does the atmosphere envelope." His face must have shown his confusion, because she grinned. "Atmosphere envelope, that's the bubble of air the ship takes with it into space. When the helm's operating, the ship keeps a bubble of relatively still air around it even when it's in the atmosphere of a world… generally speaking, of course."

Teldin nodded intelligently, trying to pretend that he understood even half of what Rianna was saying. Suddenly, without warning, his stomach twisted uncomfortably. What? Oh, no… He couldn't be seasick, could he? He took a deep breath of the sharp sea air, stretching his lungs to the limit. The nausea lessened a little. He breathed again, trying to ignore the motion of the deck beneath his feet.

Aelfred must have recognized his plight, because the big warrior remarked, "It's worst when we're at rest. She's much more stable when we're underway." He turned aft and bellowed, "Sea sail up."

Crewmen swung into the rigging and started hauling up the large sail reserved for ocean maneuvering. The big ship heeled slightly as the west wind filled the canvas. Ropes complained as the rigging took the strain and the boom swung to expose the maximum sail area. Waves slapped against the hull.

"Hard a-port," Aelfred ordered. "Bring us in."

The Probe turned its blunt bow southward, toward the port of Rauthaven.

It was evening, and the sun had set perhaps half an hour before. The Probe swung gently at anchor-under the star now, rather than among them-in the crowded inner harbor of Rauthaven's port. Lanterns burned at bow and stern and atop the tall mainmast. Around the ship was a swarm of other such lanterns. It was too dark to discern the shapes of the ships that bore them; all that could be seen were the points of yellow light. It was as though some god had taken a constellation from the sky and brought it down to earth, Teldin found himself thinking. He stood on the main deck, leaning on the port rail, gazing toward shore.

Rauthaven itself was another constellation of lights: braziers to keep the city watch warm through the chill nights; open windows of cozy homes and snug taverns, spilling their welcoming light into the streets; and here and there a moving spark that had to be a lantern mounted on a carriage. From this angle, down in the harbor surrounded by the hills of the city, Teldin could make out no definite horizon, no demarcation between city and sky. The scattered lights of the city seemed to blend imperceptibly with the scattered stars. If he ignored the motion of the ship, the night wind on his face, and the smell of the sea, Teldin could almost make himself believe that he were back in space.

In fact, part of him wished that were true. Where had that thought come from? he wondered. At first space had been a dangerous unknown, and his greatest desire had been to get back to the safe, planet-bound life that he knew. Now, however, part of his mind equated space with safety, while Rauthaven-and Toril as a whole-was the dangerous unknown. Why? After all, wasn't he now near the end of his quest? If he could find an arcane and discharge his obligation to the dead owner of the cloak, he'd be free to live his own life again, as he saw fit. Why wasn't he welcoming landfall on Toril as the penultimate step in freeing himself from his burden?

When he phrased the question that way, the answer was obvious. What if he found out that the arcane weren't the creators of the cloak and were as helpless as the gnomes of Mount Nevermind when it came to removing it? This entire trip would have been a wild-goose chase. Worse, where would he go from here? Instead of the end of his journey, Rauthaven could turn out to be just the first step in a much greater one. It just didn't bear thinking about.

That, he knew, was why he found himself wishing he were back in space. On the journey, he'd enjoyed the anticipation of solving the problem. Now that he was here, there was a very real possibility that he didn't have the solution. He found that he was deeply afraid of finding that out. Stupid, he thought, it's like hiding from a messenger because you're afraid he might be bearing bad news. Stupid, maybe, but the feeling was very real. He shook his head hard, trying to banish the thoughts, the doubts.

There was somebody approaching across the main deck. He strained his eyes through the darkness. He could barely make out the shape of a man about his own height but more lightly built. As the figure drew closer, Teldin could discern the face.

The man's features weren't familiar at all; Teldin didn't recognize him. How can that be? he asked himself. There are no strangers aboard ship. It could be one of the new crewmen the Probe had acquired from the neogi deathspider, he supposed, but he thought he'd met all of them. Who was this stranger? For the first time, he felt the stirring of fear. His hand dropped to the hilt of his short sword.

Say your hand. The words formed directly in Teldin's brain. There was no mistaking that mental voice.

"Estriss?" Teldin gasped.

The figure before him smiled-or, at least, it was probably intended to be a smile. The lips drew back from the teeth, but the expression looked clumsy, somehow artificial.

It is I, the mental voice confirmed. You are not the only one with access to shapeshifting magic.

"How?"

A hat of disguise, the illithid answered. I purchased it long ago for times such as these.

"What do you mean?"

Humor tinged the mind flayer's words. Even in a city such as Rauthaven, those of my kind are not overly welcome. People react with fear, and fearful people are unlikely to give me the information I need. So the charade. To those of Rauthaven, I am Bale Estriss, collector of antiquities… and sadly, a mute who can only communicate by writing notes.

Teldin nodded in understanding. Clever, he thought. That way the illithid wouldn't have to use his telepathic abilities.

I found you to discuss plans, the mind flayer went on. I must find out what I can about the upcoming auction. A boat will be coming to ferry me and some others in. Do you still wish to make contact with an arcane?

"Definitely," Teldin replied.

Estriss nodded. While I am abroad in the town, I promise to make what inquiries I can. As I told you before, there are no guarantees, but it seems to me very likely that there will be at least one arcane in Rauthaven.

"Good." Teldin thought for a moment. "Maybe I should go into town myself."

I would advise you not to do so, the illithid replied quickly. You do not know this city.

Teldin was surprised to realize he felt a little miffed by the mind flayer's quick rejection. "Do you?" he shot back.

Estriss hesitated, and Teldin knew he'd guessed right. Not well, the illithid answered slowly, but I do have experience in finding my way around unfamiliar worlds, while you do not The mind flayer's mental tone changed. I apologize, he said. I have offended you, and that was not my intention. My only excuse is the proximity of the auction, which is so important to my work. Will you accept that my concern is for your safety?

Teldin knew that what Estriss was saying only made sense. There was nothing Teldin himself could do, abroad in Rauthaven, that the illithid couldn't do, perhaps better. He nodded.

The disguised Estriss laid a reassuring hand on Teldin's shoulder. I am glad. I should be only an hour or two. Hopefully, when I return, I will have news.