Summoning what remained of his wits, Teldin bowed. "Forgive me. Trivit and Chirp spoke of you as their clan leader, so I was expecting to meet a dracon."

Clan? That is a fiction to keep the lizard-centaurs happy and cooperative, Netarza said bluntly. Teldin glanced quickly at Trivit and Chirp; their green faces still held wide, expectant smiles, and Teldin realized that the illithid was directing her thoughts to his mind alone. He wondered what motive lay behind her candor.

Chirp and Trivit are the only two dracons on board, the illithid captain continued. We hope to change that in the near future. The Nightstalker is a trade ship, Captain Moore, chosen to conceal our identity and our purpose. As you can see, we already have accumulated a variety of merchandise.

Teldin followed the sweeping gesture of the creature's pale purple hand. The half dozen illithids who gathered behind Netarza were the only ones of their kind in sight, yet the ship bustled with activity. With horror Teldin realized that he had come aboard a mind flayer slave ship. Chirp and Trivit were pawns; he suspected that Netarza allowed the adolescent dracons to keep their minds and memories in the hope that they might lead the illithids to the secret dracon homeworld. Teldin remembered the neogi's claim that with the cloak they could conquer and enslave whole worlds. It seemed the neogi were not the only monsters to harbor such ambitions, and he had brought the cloak right to the illithids' doorstep. Teldin cursed himself for coming aboard.

The illithid's slaves, unmistakably marked by their dull eyes and expressionless faces, went about the business of tending the ship. Elves were the most numerous slaves, which was not surprising: Teldin assumed the illithids had somehow taken over the elven ship and enslaved its crew. There also were several other races: a few humans, a band of halflings, even a pair of ebony-skinned elves who wore glittering black cloaks.

Cloaks!

In his surprise over the dracon leader's identity, Teldin had not noticed that his own cloak had grown back to its full length. It now was a deep forest green, a color it had never before assumed. Although Teldin had little to say about the cloak's color, he could control the length at will. The cloak showed itself of its own volition only in times of great danger.

Netarza reclaimed Teldin's attention by laying a three-fingered hand on his arm. We are delighted that you've come, Teldin Moore. We have much to learn from you, since we spend so little time talking with humans.

Humans just don't seem to last very long around here, a black-robed mind flayer observed. There was a touch of evil humor in its mental voice, and something else as well. Its white eyes were fixed on Teldin and its facial tentacles flexed in an unmistakable gesture of anticipation. Teldin's gut twisted as he realized that he was the creature's first choice for a midwatch snack.

This one is not cattle, Netarza snapped, her mental words tumbling out quickly. With absolute certainty, Teldin realized that her thoughts were not intended for his mind; somehow the cloak caught and transmuted the telepathic conversation. None of you will harm the human. Remember our orders: we must bring Teldin Moore and his cloak back to Fake unharmed, his mind untouched. The elder-brain must first harvest the Cloakmaster's thoughts. After that, the human is of little value and we can sell or sup as we choose.

And you will make that choice, I suppose? You, a subservient minion to a dying elder-brain? relayed the other mind flayer. We should take the human now and claim the cloak for use aboard the Nightstalker.

Netarza turned on the other illithid, lowering her head and fixing her blank white eyes upon it. The creature recoiled. With a searing hiss, it began to tear at its own eyes in the madness of agony. In seconds it slumped, either unconscious or dead, to the deck. Teldin gaped, astounded that the illithid captain would use its lethal mind blast on one of its own crewmen.

Forgive the interruption. Ship politics, I'm afraid, Netarza said, nudging Teldin's attention away from the stricken mind flayer. I hope you will stay for a while, as my guest.

"Do I have a choice in the matter?" Teldin asked bluntly.

Before answering, Netarza gestured at a trio of elven slaves and issued a silent command. The elves responded immediately and dragged the fallen illithid to the railing. Without ceremony, they tossed the dead creature out to drift away. Netarza watched the object lesson in silence for several moments before turning back to Teldin. Naturally, you have a choice. Of course, there are good choices and bad choices….

The illithid captain let her words echo in Teldin's mind for a long moment. Before he could respond, he heard beneath him the muffled sound of a scuffle. A scream of anguish came from the lower deck, and then another. Wooden steps creaked as the victor approached the main deck.

Netarza spun toward the commotion, her white eyes spitting fire. She hissed a command, and mind-controlled elven warriors drew steel and attacked with a speed and agility that made Teldin stare. In little more than a blink, a dozen elves surrounded a figure, obscuring it from view. One of the elven slaves screamed and stumbled back toward her, his hands clutching at his head and his eyes rolled back in unspeakable agony.

Netarza brutally shoved the wounded elf out of her way as she padded forward. Now, now, she admonished, her mental voice an evil purr. Is this any way for a guest to behave?

The elves parted to let her pass. Teldin fell back a step. Netarza's other "guest" was an illithid. Its eyes were without either pupils or expression, but Teldin had known one illithid well enough to perceive this one's distress. The creature clasped its three-fingered hands before it, and the four tentacles that formed the lower part of its face writhed with agitation. In the dim purple light, its flowing robe was a deep maroon, almost black. With a stab of shock, Teldin realized that he knew Netarza's guest very well.

We meet again, Teldin Moore, came a familiar mental voice, removing any doubt of the creature's identity.

"Hello, Estriss," Teldin said aloud.

Netarza's head snapped around to face Teldin. You know each other?

We have met, Estriss "said." The illithid's mental tone was dismissing, minimizing the importance of the relationship.

Teldin was not surprised by Estriss's coolness. At their last meeting, Teldin had suspected his one-time comrade of treachery, and he had convinced the illithid's crew to mutiny. Teldin had taken Estriss's hammership, the Probe, into wildspace, intending to get rid of the cloak by giving it to an arcane. There he had found the arcane slain and himself betrayed to the neogi.

Netarza studied Teldin, and one tentacle curled up to tap thoughtfully against her lavender forehead. I know less of the cloak's powers than I would like. Estriss, as always, is full of talk of the Juna and has revealed nothing of value. Perhaps, Teldin Moore, you will tell me what you know of the cloak, and why the elder-brain wishes to possess it?

Turning his eyes away from the mind flayer's probing gaze, Teldin deliberately kept his mind blank. Although he wasn't entirely sure Estriss had spoken the whole truth, the illithid once had claimed he could read Teldin's mind only when the human formed words in silent speech. Apparently Netarza did not get the answer she sought, for after several moments the illithid captain hissed and shot a glance over her shoulder. Immediately an elf glided forward.

It is time to earn your keep, wizard. Tell me whatever you can about this human, Netarza instructed the elf.