An image flashed into Teldin's mind-an image of an attacker collapsing under the lash of the illithid's mental attack. "I can't," he said. "Can you take the Probe up without Estriss? Without his say-so?"

Aelfred's eyes went cold and steady, like a blade in the hand of a master swordsman. "It sounds like you're counseling me to make a mutiny, old son," he said softly.

Teldin paused. There was real danger now. He could hear it in Aelfred's voice. He's my friend, he told himself, but friendship can go only so far. "I need passage," he said carefully, "and I can't go back into town or I'll be killed. Why would I lie about this?"

The first mate hesitated, obviously torn between friendship and duty. "You'll have to talk to Estriss," he said again. This time there was indecision in his voice as well as in his eyes.

"I can't, Aelfred. You've got to help me."

Aelfred pointed to the fishing boat that was still hard against the hammership's hull. The dozen sellswords were undoubtedly just what they were: hired bravos. Nobody could ever have mistaken them for fishermen. "If I don't help you, are they here to make me?" The big warrior's voice was casual, but ail the more dangerous for that. "Could it be that you plan to take the Probe, Teldin? Take it at sword-point?"

"No," Teldin shot back forcefully. "You're my friend. You've been my friend through everything. I can no more turn against you than I can fly this ship myself." He spread his hands in an open, disarming gesture. "All I can do is depend on that friendship. Help me, Aelfred. Save my life again. You're the only hope I've got left."

That took the big man aback, Teldin could see. They stood silently for several score heartbeats. Teldin watched the play of emotions over his friend's face-painful emotions, many of them. It was hard to keep silent, hard not to press the point, hard not to plead, but Teldin understood enough about Aelfred Silverhorn to know that this would be the worst thing he could do. He had to respect the man, had to give him time to make the difficult decision on his own.

"Aelfred!" The call from a crewman on the forecastle was enough to make Teldin jump with shock.

The first mate turned away, obviously glad to be spared from his dilemma, if only for a few moments. "What?" he barked.

The crewman was pointing toward town. "Message from the harbormaster, sir," he called down. With a muttered curse, Aelfred looked to where the man was indicating.

There was a string of flags running up one of the flagpoles atop the harbormaster's building. Like the ones telling us where to dock, Teldin remembered. A premonition of danger tingled through his nerve endings. He wished he could read the message. As he watched, another string of flags ran up the second flagpole.

"What in the name of all the fiends…" Aelfred stared at the flags in open stupefaction, then he turned to Teldin, an expression of enforced calm on his face. "Just what have you been doing ashore?" he asked.

"Running for my life," Teldin answered truthfully. He indicated the flags. "What do they say?"

"The Probe is impounded," the mate said disbelievingly. "We're ordered to remain in place. There'll be a vessel coming out to secure the ship, and to arrest a fugitive from justice, one Aldyn Brewer." He fixed Teldin with a flint-edged stare. "What have you done?"

"Nothing," Teldin replied, his voice little more than a whisper. Nausea rippled in the pit of his stomach. He was horrified; the corruption, the involvement, goes high enough to involve the harbormaster? Virtually the whole city could be turned against him.

No, he realized, it needn't be quite that bad. Somebody had reported that "Aldyn Brewer" had committed a crime. Maybe it was Spak's murder, or maybe the whole thing was fabricated from nothing. No, it wasn't as bad as he'd originally thought, but it definitely was bad enough.

"I didn't do anything," he repeated to Aelfred. "They're trying to get the cloak. They'll do anything they can to get it, including impound the ship and kill anyone who gets in the way."

"And who's 'they'?"

"I don't know," Teldin answered. "Everyone." The enormity of his danger almost overwhelmed him again. "Everyone," he replied, struggling for control. "Illithids, the elves…" He squared his shoulders, fought to keep his desperation out of his voice. "Please, Aelfred. Take me up there. It's my responsibility. We'll say I threatened you. When it's over, when I've seen the arcane, I'll surrender and you'll be off the hook."

"Hardly," Aelfred said derisively. His cool gaze searched Teldin's face, then the big man's steel-hard expression softened into a wry smile. "I believe you," he said. He chuckled, a little grimly-or was it sadly? Teldin asked himself. "Well, I was getting tired of shipboard life anyway. Do you think anybody around here needs a mercenary?"

Teldin remembered the seemingly endless supply of sellswords and smiled. "I don't think that'll be a problem." The decision made, Aelfred was his familiar, efficient self. "The ship they're going to send is going to be a military vessel. We're on skeleton crew. There's no way we can repel it. Get your crew on board," he snapped to Teldin. "If you're afraid of Estriss-and I don't blame you, honestly, from what you've told me-send an 'honor guard' to escort him." He turned away and started barking orders at the few crewmen remaining aboard.

The bravos had been waiting impatiently. The moment Teldin beckoned to them, they swarmed over the gunwale rails, eschewing the rope ladder. On deck, they stood waiting for their orders. Rianna, because of her wounded shoulder, was slower coming aboard. As she climbed over the rail, Teldin saw Aelfred's smile of welcome. With his two best friends beside him, Teldin was starting to feel he might have a chance of making it through.

He turned to the sellswords. "You five," he said, pointing, "I want you to bring the illithid on deck." He described the location of Estriss's cabin.

He noticed that the bravos glanced at Rianna for approval before nodding, which was only right, he accepted. It was she who'd hired them, not him.

"I don't want any violence," he stressed as they started below. "He's captain of this ship, and you're his honor guard. Please treat him that way."

Aelfred had watched the exchange with some interest and visible approval. He snapped Teldin a perfect salute. "We'll be underway in a couple of minutes, Captain," he barked.

Teldin shook his head. "Don't call me that," he told the mate quietly. He paused, then asked, "You said we can't

"That's right," the warrior replied, "but I also said we can fly. I've got Thorn on the helm. We're taking off from right here. Hideously illegal, of course, but I don't honestly give a damn." He grinned hugely.

He's enjoying this, Teldin realized. Mutiny, and he's having a good time. He shook his head.

Silently, Teldin watched the crew readying the hammership for space. There weren't many of them-Teldin counted only about twenty-but they were working fast enough for twice that number. Curiously, he looked around for the ex-slave Tregimesticus, but didn't spot him. Was that significant? He shook his head to clear it. There was no reason to worry about that now.

He gazed out toward the city. Rauthaven was no longer beautiful, under the gray-black clouds; it was threatening, rather than enticing. Or was that only a reflection of his own mood? He could see no sign of the ship that was supposed to be coming to secure the Probe, but that would just be a matter of time. His enemies wouldn't have made an empty bluff.

Teldin, Aelfred. The cool words formed in his mind. He looked around. Surrounded by the "honor guard," Estriss had emerged from belowdecks. For whatever reason, the creature was no longer disguised. His facial tentacles moved in agitation. What is the meaning of this mutiny?