He had no idea how far they'd run, but finally the mad flight ended. Rianna was leaning against a wall, her full chest heaving with exertion. Teldin himself sank to the ground, clenching his teeth in a vain attempt to hold back a whimper of agony. He looked up at Rianna through blurring tears. "How did Barrab find us?" he asked weakly.

"Find me, you mean," she corrected between gasps. "They probably didn't know it was you back there. Unfortunately, I've got little choice but to wear my own face." She was silent for a moment, her expression that of someone chewing on a bitter truth. Finally she looked steadily at Teldin and told him, "We have to separate."

"Why?" he demanded, even though he thought he understood her reasoning.

"Because I'll get you killed. If they catch me, they catch you. I'll give you the names of some contacts. Maybe they can help you out-"

He cut her off the simplest way he knew how, grabbing her by the shoulders, pulling her body to him, and stopping her lips with his. When they parted, her somber expression had softened. "Forget it," he told her firmly. "We're going to make it through this together."

Rianna gave him a tired smile. "All right," she said, "together. So where do we go from here?"

Teldin didn't answer immediately. The pain in his bee had diminished from the almost unbearable to the merely abominable. Slowly he worked the joint, testing its range of motion. Rianna watched him silently. Finally he looked up. "It's got to be the arcane," he told her.

"Why?"

Quickly he summarized his logic for her. "I've got no reason to doubt T'k'Pek," he concluded. "Once he has the cloak, he should be able to protect us."

"From the neogi?" Rianna asked. "They've been after you from the start, haven't they?"

He shot her a sharp look. "I never told you that."

She chuckled deep in her throat. "You talk in your sleep, little chum." Then she grew serious again. "How do you fee! about the arcane possessing the cloak?" she asked quietly.

He shrugged. "I don't know," he told her honestly, "but I'd feel worse about the neogi getting it." He paused. "Why in the hells do they all want the cloak anyway?" he asked. "Why is it so important?"

"I haven't got a clue," she replied, "but there's no doubt it is important. The neogi want it, the arcane, and the Falx illithids…."

"And the elves," he added. "But why?"

"Neogi aren't interested in much except power," Rianna pondered. "And they want the cloak. What does that tell you?"

"It's powerful," he answered. "More powerful than I really want to think about."

"So it's the arcane?"

"I don't have any other choices," he replied candidly. Wincing with pain, he forced himself to his feet. The problem hasn't changed, he reflected. It's how to get to the Nebulon. He turned back to Rianna. "Can you get us a ship?" he asked. "Something the two of us can fly?"

The woman thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I don't have any personal contacts here," she said slowly. "There are places where you can rent ships, but Barrab will have them watched."

Teldin had figured as much, but he'd had to ask. "It's the Probe, then," he told her. "Can you get us aboard?"

"Yes," she said simply.

Teldin looked at her speculatively. No questions? he wondered. No doubts? Does she have such faith in me?

He glanced up at the sky. It was midafternoon, by the sun. "How long will it take?" he asked.

"Not long."

*****

How many contacts does Rianna have? Teldin found himself wondering. And how many sellswords are trying to make a living in Rauthaven? Rianna had made only one stop, at a disreputable wine shop off a back alley that smelled of ordure. Teldin had waited in the doorway, his eyes watering from the fumes of stale wine, while she spoke with the hard-bitten sailors within. She'd then beckoned him in, to join her at a corner table from which she could keep an eye on the door. They hadn't spoken as they'd waited; it seemed that both had more than enough on their minds to keep them occupied.

The proprietor-a big man with a face like a scarred fist-had belligerently demanded that they order if they were going to stay. The two of them sat, each with a cup of wine on the table in front of them now. Out of curiosity, Teldin took a sip of his drink… and almost spat it back on the table. What is it? he asked himself. Vinegar and acid, with some lamp oil added for flavor? With an effort, he swallowed the foul stuff. "Gah," he whispered to Rianna, "my mouth tastes like a latrine."

She whispered back, "That's the house's best." She turned her eyes back to the door. As she watched it, he watched her. Even exhausted and wounded, she was beautiful.

To Teldin it felt as though they'd sat in the wine shop for hours, but according to the smoky time-candle burning on the bar, it had hardly been half an hour when a large figure appeared in the doorway. Rianna's face showed relief as she recognized the man and rose to join him. They spoke for a few moments in voices too quiet for Teldin to hear, then returned to the table.

"We can go," she told him quietly. "I've hired some people to back us-people I can trust-and a boat to take us out to the hammership."

"From where?" Teldin asked. "Aren't Barrab's men watching the docks?"

"From the western breakwater," she replied. "And, yes, Barrab did have a man watching the area, but not anymore." She grinned impishly. "Willik here slipped him a few coins to take the afternoon off. It's amazing how loud money talks."

He grinned back, glad of her competence and seemingly unflagging confidence. "Shall we go?" he suggested.

The small boat was an open fishing vessel very like the one Teldin had considered hiring, but there were no fishermen aboard. Teldin and Rianna sat in the stern-he wearing a new face and form, she with the hood of a tattered cloak pulled forward to shield her face. The oars were manned by twelve steel-hard men. As they'd boarded the boat at the western breakwater, Teldin had seen that each one was virtually a walking armory beneath his concealing cloak. A substantial boarding party, he thought. Let's hope that won't be necessary.

How could it nor be necessary? he wondered. Am I going to walk up to Estriss and say, "Take me to the Nebulon," and he'll say, "Of course"? Doubtful. If Estriss were connected with the illithids from Falx, impossible. Aelfred alone might agree, but it wasn't his ship. Maybe if Estriss was still ashore when they arrived… but how likely was that? No, it seemed inevitable that there would be some kind of confrontation. He looked at the twelve bravos, facing aft toward him, throwing their weight on the oars. While none was as obviously unstable as Spak, he knew full well that they were men used to solving problems with violence. Unless he handled matters just right, things could easily get out of hand. One thing, he swore to himself, no killing.

He shifted on the aft thwart, trying to find a more comfortable position. Rianna was distracted, tense. She's as positive as I am there's going to be a confrontation, he realized. Otherwise, why bring the bravos?

Another uncomfortable thought struck him. "You can find the Nebulon, can't you?"

Rianna smiled, a little tightly. "If Willik's information is right, and we've got to assume it is."

Teldin nodded. More assumptions.

Teldin had hardly noticed-after all, he'd had more important things on his mind-but clouds had been gathering, filling the sky. For a while, the sun had been shining down through a break in the cloud cover, in parallel beams that had seemed to spotlight the harbor like a bull's-eye lantern. The sun finally had slipped behind a cloud, and the sky had darkened. A cold and miserable drizzle began to fall. Fitting, Teldin found himself thinking.