Teldin flushed. "Actually, I wasn't prepared to be served like this." He quickly shut the book and put it on a side table. He could read only with great difficulty, and he was too embarrassed to admit that he had only been looking at the pictures.

"We will be having dinner with other guests in two hours," Cirathorn continued. "You may rest comfortably until then. With your permission, however, I would like to examine your cloak. I wish only to look at it in the light here, without attempting to remove it from you. Would that be possible?"

Others had touched the cloak without incident. "I think so," Teldin said, feeling a little nervous. "Don't try to cut it, though. The cloak will shock you if you do."

Cirathorn spread his hands as he approached. "I have no intentions of harming either you or the cloak." He reached out and carefully took hold of the fabric at Teldin's right arm. Nothing happened. The admiral pulled up the cloak and moved toward the nearby light. Teldin obliged by standing closer to it as the elf began his examination, watching the elf s narrow fingers probe gently at the silky inner lining with its complex geometric pattern. For a moment, Teldin was reminded of Estriss and the movement of the mind flayer's long, four-jointed mauve finger as it pointed out the subtle pattern of a three-petaled flower in the weave of the lining.

The admiral made no comment during the long minutes he spent looking at the cloak. Teldin looked at it as well, wondering what, if anything, the admiral was able to see in it that Teldin or Estriss had not. After a time, the admiral slowly released the cloak and let it fall again.

"Did you find anything?" Teldin could not resist asking.

"It is authentic," said Cirathorn in a distant voice. "I must go back to the library and speak with the loremaster again. I will tell you more later, at dinner." He suddenly turned to leave, looking back once as he opened the door. The admiral's gaze lingered on Teldin's cloak. He then left, pulling the door shut behind him.

The time crawled by so slowly that Teldin believed he would go mad. He was lying on the bed, trying to relax enough to get rid of a headache, when the door opened again. Another young elf, this one a blond male, motioned for Teldin to follow him. "Dinner is about to be served, good sir," the elf said. "I could have waited a while longer," muttered Teldin, pulling on his boots. He decided that maybe he could nibble a few items, just to be polite.

The hemispherical dining hall was smaller than the starry hall, but much brighter and more comfortable-looking. A circular table surrounded by soft chairs took up the middle of the room. No other furniture was present; the entire floor was covered with a carpet, too, Teldin noticed. Bowls of fruits and finger-foods were scattered around the table. Glowing globes and figurines hung from the ceiling, spilling bright yellow light everywhere. To Teldin's surprise, living vines crawled up the walls, encircling carved wooden figures of elves, many with wings, that graced the decorative pillars. The air inside was cool on his face and smelled fresh, as if it had just rained.

Perhaps a dozen elves were already seated at the table and chatting softly and animatedly when Teldin was escorted in. They all looked in his direction, but they never stopped their conversations or made any move to welcome him. He looked about, pulling his cloak around him, and took a place to the right of one of the staff members Teldin remembered seeing earlier in the forest illusion. While he didn't understand Elvish, Teldin found he was able to make out the gist of what the elf was saying-all gossip about the goings-on around the Rock, he realized. He was almost disappointed, though he wasn't sure what he had expected. Teldin sighed and ate a small piece of fruit, trying not to look as out of place as he felt. Why were the elves ignoring him? Was he just some kind of groundling peasant to them?

It was then that he heard a scratching noise, and he turned to his right and noticed a gnome two seats away. He was too short to be seen over the top of his chair. The scratching noise came from the movement of the gnome's pen across a folded-up page of parchment. Like many gnomes Teldin had known, this one had brown skin with short-cut, silky white hair; a large bald spot showed on top of his head. A pair of gold-wire spectacles perched halfway down the gnome's broad nose.

Teldin smiled. What was the Gnomish word for hello? There was a phrase that the gnomes with whom he had traveled into wildspace had always called to each other while they were aboard ship. The cloak hadn't bothered to translate it for him. How did it go?

"Woda ganeu!" Teldin said, leaning toward the gnome and waving a hand in greeting.

The gnome started and looked up, blinking in surprise. "What?" he said in a high, nasal voice. "Why should I get out of your way? Am I blocking your view?" The gnome looked to his right for anything Teldin might be trying to see.

Teldin winced. So that's what the gnomes had been saying! "No, no! Just forget it," he said hastily. "I'm Teldin Moore. Pleased to meet you." He scooted a little closer to hear the gnome better.

The gnome stared at him for a moment. "Teldin Moore?" he asked, his voice rising in puzzlement. "Teldin Moore. You're the one with the magical pants?"

"Cloak," Teldin corrected, picking up an edge of his blue garment. The gnome squinted at the cloak, then sat back, raising his pen and obviously looking to end the conversation. "Ergonomic fabric design was not my life quest," he muttered. "Useful, of course. Got to have clothes. Good business." His bushy eyebrows knitted together in deep concentration as he was absorbed again by his scribbling.

Teldin rubbed at his mustache with frustration. He had a momentary urge to simply get to his feet and leave, but he told himself it was just a question of making his patience last. All upper-class people, elven or human, must be as bad as these elves were. Only a few minutes passed in boredom before footsteps and a faint metallic sound issued from the hall outside.

As one, every elfin the room stood. Teldin clumsily got to his feet, one of his legs having fallen asleep, just as Admiral Cirathorn entered. He was still wearing his silver armor and tabard. The elves bowed and curtsied as he entered, but he took no notice of them. Cirathorn strode directly over to a place across from where Teldin sat, taking an empty chair there. Here he clapped his hands, and two elves sprang to their feet and left the room.

"Teldin Moore," said Cirathorn, settling himself in his chair, "we welcome you to the embassy of the Imperial Fleet, the web of light that binds together all known spheres. You have endured much to meet with us. We offer our hospitality, our rooms, and our food for your physical nourishment and rest. And we offer you our guidance and advice in resolving your most pressing questions."

Regardless of the admiral's words, Teldin still felt a curious coldness in the room. He noticed that none of the other elves were looking directly at him.

Cirathorn went on. "Our library is poor, but our loremaster was able to divine some of the past of your cloak. There is not much that is known, and what is written about it is subject to question. Nonetheless, I will share it. Would you please rise, Teldin Moore?"

Flushing slightly, Teldin did so. What now? "Sisters and brothers of the spheres," said Cirathorn, looking around the room. "We have sung the songs of the past, when the hands of light first forged the great crystal spheres out of deepest darkness, and we have chanted the hymns to the blending of earth, fire, air, and water, for the birthing of worlds of every kind. We have read the poems of those first few who stepped out into the wild dark and called it their home. We have only the fragments of that first sailing, faded legends of that awakening. What was history is now mere dream.