"I got these from the neogi," Teldin spat. "I was on their meat tables. I've escaped from mercenaries, draconians, and pirates. I've been attacked and betrayed because of this cloak, and I've seen dozens of people slain for it. The neogi said that if they got this cloak, they could destroy or enslave worlds with its powers-elven worlds among them, I would think. I don't know what you can do for me, but you could do a lot more for me and for your people than you are doing now."

With a violent effort, Teldin bit off his next words. He quickly regretted what he had said, but he was still too angry to care much. If they wanted to throw him out, at least now they had a good excuse for doing it. He'd never liked dealing with most officers and authority types, even when he had been in the army during the War of the Lance. They were fools more often than they were true leaders, except for a few who were either just and fair or too cynical to be anything other than honest.

Cirathorn's gaze had become distant while Teldin spoke. He said nothing when Teldin finished, though some of his staff members moved close together to whisper to each other. A new breeze ruffled cloaks and hair.

"I remember Aerlofalyn," Cirathorn said, without emotion. The other elves fell silent at once. "It is a world you would not have heard of, Teldin Moore. Aerlofalyn was a garden world in another sphere, a world of wind and air across which great islands and continents drifted like leaves on the bright surface of a river. My father's father was from Aerlofalyn, and his father before him, and every ten years my family would meet on the island estates for a feasting and celebration that would last for a hundred days. My father's father was married there, and all his fathers before him. It was paradise."

The other elves stared at the admiral as if they were statues. Cirathorn looked at Teldin but did not seem to see him.

"You have heard, I have no doubt, of the Unhuman War," the admiral continued. "It is called that among your people because humans felt it had so little to do with them. The depredations of goblins across the spheres had little meaning for the human masses on the ground. Do not be too offended, Teldin Moore, if I say that an attitude like that is typical of your kind. Humans rarely care about the fate of others."

Teldin's face flushed, and his fists clenched tightly. He was on the verge of calling the elf a liar and worse when Cirathorn started to walk toward him with a slow tread. "A war fleet of the enemy fell upon Aerlofalyn in my father's father's time. My father was sent away with his sisters at the last hour, aboard a secret vessel that escaped to another sphere, where they stayed with relatives. He returned to Aerlofalyn in seven years at the vanguard of a war fleet of his own. He landed upon the island where he had been bora, where he had learned to speak, where he would have taken his wife. There he buried the bones of all who had remained behind. He buried bones that were burned, bones that were broken, bones that were gnawed upon. He buried a world and a family line. The name Aerlofalyn is rarely spoken by our people, except in our memories and when we gather to remember the dead and all that has passed."

Cirathorn stopped. He appeared taller now, though it could have been only a trick of the light. "I have been to Aerlofalyn, Teldin Moore. I know about murdered worlds. Every ten years now, I go there, just as ray father took me, and for a hundred days I mourn."

Teldin and Cirathorn stared at each other. Suddenly the elf roused himself and saw Teldin as if the man had just appeared before him. "We have been poor hosts, and we ask your forgiveness. Please join us for our next meal. We will eat in peace together and speak of your cloak and your concerns." Without waiting for Teldin's answer, Cirathorn turned and called behind him, at the forest. "Siol tath, alwe doe maith" he said. As he turned back to Teldin, the sky grew darker, as if a cloud were passing over the face of the sun.

"Forgive our fantasies, too, Teldin Moore," said the elf, as the entire forest around them faded into darkness. Teldin looked wildly around as the elf continued speaking, unperturbed. "We have become creatures of the past, bound by our memories. This forest was how my father's father's home once appeared, given birth again through the magic of illusion. It is a weakness in which I indulge for the sake of impressing company."

Now, Teldin saw dim, distant walls arching over his head in place of a sky, as if he stood beneath a vast, overturned bowl whose ceiling was studded with tiny starlike lights that gave off light of increasing brightness. Teldin could see great patterns carved into the ceiling itself, weaving around the unfamiliar constellations displayed there. The rock face behind him had faded and become a wooden door, which he could now tell was banded with iron and painted with symbols.

"This is our reality," said Cirathorn, sweeping a hand around him. "We are sheathed in old rock beneath the surface of the Rock of Bral. The doorway on the surface brought you here by our magic, a teleporter of sorts. You may speak and rest in safety, as I have said. My staff will show you to a room where you may bathe and don new clothing if you so choose. You are our guest."

Teldin's voice found its way back to him. "I could probably use a bath," he said. "My ship is in the docks for the next few days. I don't think I'll be missed right away." Even as he spoke, it dawned on him that he sounded as if he was inviting himself to stay here. It wasn't quite what he'd meant.

It seemed to make no difference. Cirathorn, his robes whispering around him, had already turned to leave the domed hall, gesturing for one of his staff to stay behind and the rest to follow him. "We are pleased to have you, Teldin Moore," the admiral said on his way out. "Your visit should be very educational for us all."

*****

A slim young female elf with gleaming black hair showed Teldin through a vine-covered stone corridor, away from the domed hall. Light spilled from hand-sized glass figurines mounted in the ceiling, each one made to resemble a flying bird. Pushing open an oaken door at the first bend in the corridor, the elf showed Teldin the room beyond. It was the size of the largest inn room Teldin had ever seen, and it contained a sunken bath, a bed, several tables and cushioned chairs, some slim books and rolled scrolls on a shelf, and a wardrobe filled with clothing of every size.

The young girl looked uncomfortably like Gaye in certain respects, but she was interested only in explaining how the bath pump worked, where he could find the dining hall, and where the sanitary facilities were. She nodded and left when Teldin said he needed nothing more.

The memory of Gaye reminded him of something else, and Teldin checked his belt pouches and pockets to find out what, if anything, the kender had "borrowed" from him. To his astonishment, he still had everything he had started out with when his ship had docked. No kender he had ever heard of had resisted an opportunity to pick a pocket. He went through his inventory twice, but he was missing nothing. He shrugged and decided a bath was in order before changing.

An hour later, he was standing near a glowing swan lamp, examining a volume of woodcuts showing landscapes and portraits, when the door opened again. It was Cirathorn. Teldin didn't recognize him for a few moments, as the elf had changed clothes, too. He was now wearing a suit of silver-bright plate armor over which a black tabard was hung, bearing a complex design of a many-colored butterfly against a starry background. The elf wore no helmet, but he wore silken black gloves and high, star-speckled black boots.

"Is everything satisfactory?" asked the admiral.