Teldin quickly outlined what had transpired since the fight with the neogi. He'd just described the cloak's power to propel ships when he was interrupted by a timid knock at the door. At Teldin's impatient summons, two large green heads poked into the cabin.

"I must say, it's marvelous to see you yourself again. You look splendid, especially considering that you're a human," Chirp said cheerfully. The dracon's words held not a hint of sarcasm, and his huge, dragonlike mouth curved up in a smile of ingratiating innocence. Despite his irritation with the interruption, Teldin could feel himself responding to the creatures' innocent goodwill.

"It's good to see you two as well," Teldin said sincerely. "What have you been up to?"

"Vallus Leafbower has a small but splendid library. We've been making some inquiries into your family background, Captain Teldin Moore," Trivit informed him solemnly, "and I must say it's most impressive."

Teldin blinked. His father had been a farmer, his grandfather a man of inherent wisdom and lively curiosity, but still poor and obscure. Teldin supposed he had a family tree beyond that, but he'd never seen any reason to try to climb it. "Do you mind if I ask how you traced my family?" he ventured.

"Not at all," Chirp piped, squeezing his dark green body into the cabin. "Vallus has a perfectly marvelous volume on the history of Krynn. A fascinating world, Krynn, but, of course, you'd already know that. We have traced your line back to Angor Dragonsbane, a great hero and one of the first humans on record on the continent of Ansalon."

"There are other lines of equal note," Trivit added. He edged into the room beside his brother, and the dracon pair launched into a convoluted tale, interweaving names from Krynnish history and folklore until Teldin grew dizzy trying to follow it all. So complex and detailed was the dracons' presentation that the dazed Teldin was inclined to believe it.

"We were fortunate in our choice of kaba," Trivit concluded in a tone ripe with self-congratulation. "As you may know, a dracon clan chief is chosen on the basis of lineage, and yours surpasses those of any ancient elvish house represented on this ship. For me to enumerate your list of titles would take-" Trivit broke off, wrinkling his rubbery face in an effort at calculation. After a moment, he shrugged. "Well, just ever so long."

"A most fortunate choice," echoed Chirp. "Our instincts were splendid, as usual," he said with blithe disregard for the illithid episode.

"Of course, we had to stop our study several generations before your birth. The elven history was not a current one," Trivit said ruefully.

The new-made nobleman smirked, suddenly understanding. His new and grandiose family tree was linked to him by no more than a great deal of wishful thinking.

"Perhaps you'd care to fill in the blanks for us?" Chirp suggested.

Teldin's smile collapsed. It was one thing to let the dracons concoct some fancy genealogy to support their choice of leader-and he got the distinct impression that his wasn't the first of such-but his innate sense of honesty would not allow him to contribute to the dracons' self-deception. Apparently sensing his consternation, Estriss took a defensive position at the foot of Teldin's bed.

At some later time, I'm sure Teldin Moore can oblige you. At the moment, however, he requires rest.

Mumbling apologies, the chastised dracons backed out of the cabin. The door gingerly creaked shut, and the hall rumbled under the dracons' version of a tiptoed retreat. Teldin gave in to a chuckle. He could have sworn that his friend's blank eyes held a hint of a twinkle, and he cocked an eyebrow at the smug illithid. "Thanks."

Not at all, Estriss demurred. You have not been the only target of the dracons' passion for genealogy. Chirp and Trivit have passed the days tracing the connections between and debating the merits of the various elven houses, until even the most lineage-proud elf on board has lost interest in the exercise. I can assure you, however, Estriss concluded with mock gravity, the dracons honor the heritage they invented for you over any elven background based, on fact.

Teldin grimaced. "I suppose I should talk to them."

Don't bother. They would listen politely and then ignore anything you said. Tothem, you are the kaba and that settles the matter. Now, Estriss concluded briskly, coming to the head of the bed, according to the ship's healer, you are ready to take a walk on deck. Are you interested?

In response, Teldin grinned and threw back the covers. He got out of bed far too quickly, though, and the moment his feet hit the floor he got the distinct and disconcerting impression that the small cabin suddenly had been filled with turbulent gray water.

Estriss closed a steadying hand around Teldin's arm. Perhaps the healer was a bit optimistic?

"No," Teldin said as soon as he could hear himself through the humming in his ears. "If I don't get out of this cabin soon, I'll go mad."

Estriss helped Teldin up to the deck. After the confinement of his cabin, the vastness of wildspace held all the promise and spirit-lifting magic of a warm spring morning. Teldin's mood slid, however, at the sight of the lone figure leaning on the swan ship's starboard rail.

Chapter Six

Hectate Kir stood staring into wildspace, absently flattening the crown of his red-brown hair. The half-elf s cowlick popped back up after each pass. The ineffectual battle would have been almost comical if Teldin had been in the mood to be amused.

Teldin excused himself from the illithid with the promise to meet him later for a longer chat. Still feeling a bit unsteady, he made his way over to the rail. Hectate acknowledged his arrival politely, and they exchanged the usual expressions of concern before silence overtook them. For many long moments they stared into wildspace with eyes that saw only the past.

Hectate was the first to speak. "I imagine you want to know more about the battle," he stated quietly.

"Yes. I've been sorting through all that's happened, trying to make some sense of it. I couldn't help wondering how… That is to say, exactly what…" Teldin's voice trailed away, and he gestured helplessly. There simply wasn't any tactful way to word his question.

"You want to know what I am," Hectate said bluntly.

Teldin nodded, a little embarrassed by the half-elfs candor but relieved to have the issue on the table.

"You have heard of the first Unhuman War," Hectate began softly, looking fixedly off into wildspace.

Again Teldin nodded, this time with resignation. Hectate might be a half-elf, but he obviously shared the elven fear that some small part of a story might be omitted.

"During that time, both elves and goblinkin built terrible weapons of destruction. A few elves volunteered to become such weapons. Through a magical process that has since been deliberately forgotten, these elves were transformed. In appearance they were indistinguishable from other elves, but they had the ability to change into a creature such as… such as the one you saw aboard the Nightstalker."

Hectate paused and met Teldin's eyes. The half-elf s face was sad but resigned as he awaited his captain's reaction. Teldin wasn't sure what was expected of him, but he nodded encouragingly. "Go on."

The half-elf s eyes widened with surprise. He blinked several times, then cleared his throat. "These creatures were, of course, my ancestors. The elves named us bionoids, the suffix implying that we were a lifelike form, not a true life-form. The bionoid troops were a pivotal force in winning the war, but after victory was achieved, the 'living weapons' were found to have a serious flaw. We are alive. For centuries we have lived, struggling with our inherent contradictions but teaching each new generation to live in peace. Because we are living beings and not intelligent, undead weapons, the elves consider us a mistake. Elves, as a rule, prefer not to acknowledge their mistakes."