Vorr trotted down the stairs to the main deck, then turned and went through the door to the galley and his own offices beyond. Scro eating their meals in the galley leaped to their feet as he entered, but he bypassed them, opening his office door and closing it behind him after he entered.

"You missed a rotten fight," came a familiar but subdued voice from the floor mat where Vorr slept.

"A pity," Vorr said. He glanced at Usso, who sat in the corner with her legs drawn up to her chin, then he took a seat at a heavy wooden desk and picked up a feathered pen. "Was this the fight in which you lost control of your ship when it was battered by a gnomish one, and you teleported away but left the crew behind to die?"

"That was the one," she said. Her voice lacked its usual liveliness, an indicator that she was depressed or upset. "How did you know? Could the lich see it all?"

"If Skarkesh can track Teldin Moore by his cloak, I imagine he can track more than that if he wants to," Vorr replied. He scribbled a few notes to himself on a sheet of paper. "He informed me of the ship and crew's fate, then tried to contact Teldin again, just to prove to me he could do it, but he couldn't find Teldin." Notes finished, Vorr turned on his stool to face the beautiful Oriental woman in the corner. "It was as if Teldin Moore's ship had vanished, he said. I thought of an antimagic field. Would that block our bone man's ability to spy on Teldin?"

The woman's face twisted with hurt and anger. "Kobas, you bastard, I almost died! The port wall of the helm room was broken through, and I was almost caught in the helm when the whole damned wall fell on it. All you can talk about is that filthy cloak! You don't give a rotting damn about me!"

Vorr looked steadily at Usso. "You're alive. My scro are not. This expedition is costing us more with each passing minute.

Do you want to waste my time, or help me get Teldin Moore's cloak before we are reduced to one battered ship and a crew of corpses commanded by a monster?"

"Take a jump right to the bottom of the Abyss, you fat, dung-eating, bootlick-no! No!" Usso broke off her retort as Vorr launched himself across the room, seizing one of her arms. Usso covered her face with her other arm, pulling her legs in against her stomach. "Don't kick me!" she cried. "Don't do it! I'll stop-ow! No! Owwww!"

Vorr held her delicate wrist in one massive hand and slowly rotated her wrist and forearm in a direction they were not meant to go. Usso writhed, trying to pull free. "Kobas! Ko-bas, stop it, stop it!" She screamed incoherently, her face pressed down against the bed mat.

Vorr eased the pressure off, leaving just enough to make Usso acutely aware the pain would return in an instant. The usual dining noises from the galley outside his door had ceased; if the scro were smart, they had gone elsewhere to eat.

"Your mouth will be your tombstone," he said, his voice as soft as a silken glove. "I found you, I made you strong, and I gave you power. I can take it away like this." He did something with Usso's arm, and she screamed again until he eased off once more. "Let's be reasonable before I lose all interest in reason. Teldin's cloak is the goal. We shall endure. Our enemies will decay on forgotten battlefields, but we shall endure-if you cooperate with me." He stopped and waited.

"Yes," Usso panted, her face hidden by her mass of long black hair, which lay spilled across the mat. "I'll help. Don't hurt me, Kobas. Please don't hurt me. I'll be good. I'll help you. Don't hurt me anymore."

He eased more of the pressure off, but not enough so that she could get up. "Could an antimagical field block the lich's attempts to spy on Teldin Moore?" he asked.

"It might. It can do that. It won't hurt the cloak, but it can stop magic coming from it. I'll be good, Kobas."

He reflected on the news. "What would happen," he said, "if I were to touch the cloak? Could Teldin be traced? Could he use any of the cloak's magical powers?"

Usso was panting hard, trying to get her breath back. "I think you would negate the cloak's powers, but only as long as you were holding it or touching it. It would work if you let it go. I believe it's very powerful. You couldn't destroy it, but you could stop it. He can probably spelljam with it. I told you that weeks ago. He must have used it when he escaped from us the first time. I saw him throw spells from it, magical missiles, just before we crashed. He killed a lot of scro before they boarded his ship."

Vorr listened to the woman's panting, then looked down her back. Clearly visible under her long white gown, her fox-like tail lay flat on the mat between her legs. Usso could lie, but her tail never could. She was like all of her kind: clever, arrogant, strong in the face of the weak, and weak in the face of the strong. All she cared about was herself.

It was a mistake to let her live, and Vorr knew it. Usso would sell out the gods themselves for more power. She no doubt had her own designs on the cloak Teldin wore; Vorr didn't mind that, because it would be easier to deal with her treachery than it would be to deal with the lich. If she could just keep her mouth shut more often and rein in her emotions, she could have a much cozier and more comfortable life-but she could never manage that, no matter how many warnings she got.

That was fine, too, Vorr thought. He sometimes enjoyed administering a loving warning or two to the fox-woman. If she pushed things hard enough at the wrong time, he'd administer a final warning one of these days, and he'd take his time at it. The thought was a pleasant one.

Vorr got to his feet again. He kept one broad, iron-muscled hand on Usso's wrist, forcing her to stay down until he was completely up. He gave her arm a final sharp twist and released her as she yelped and crawled away, sobbing.

It was all show, he knew. Usso, like all hu hsien, could heal her wounds and eliminate pain quickly. She was just hurt in the heart, or whatever she had that passed for one, because he didn't want to listen to her.

Vorr walked back to his desk and picked up his pen again. He imagined Teldin, wearing his cloak, attacking him with a sword. How could he get a grip on that cloak? What could he do with it when he got it in his hands? Could he use the cloak against Teldin in a face-to-face fight?

Images began to move in the general's mind as he listened to the hu hsien weep worthless tears. When he met Teldin at last, Vorr sincerely hoped the man would give his very best shot at trying to kill his opponent. Vorr wanted it that way. He wanted it to be a fight to always remember.

*****

The shoreline grew nearer, foot by foot, as Teldin clumsily paddled the raft toward the shoreline. His legs were already awash in water up to his hips, but it mattered little as he had fallen into the lake once already and was completely soaked. His raft was barely more than a few more doors from the ship roped together, and his oar was a broken one from the ship's hold, but it worked. Nothing else was available.

Far behind him, Gomja and Aelfred watched anxiously from the ship's deck. They carried an assortment of wheel-lock pistols and muskets, primed and loaded, with more on the deck within reach. Lining the ship's railings and facing the shore was the ship's remaining crew, crossbows cocked and aimed, bolts piled behind them. Only Sylvie and Gaye remained inside the ship, and Teldin was positive that Gaye would not stay there long.

Teldin's cloak had pulled up into its necklace form when he'd hit the water earlier. For just a moment he wondered if he should use the cloak's powers to shapechange into one of the centaurlike insectoid creatures that lined the bank. Perhaps he could then use the cloak's translating abilities to convince these creatures that they were friendly. However, they had already seen him, and they would suspect the worst of any sudden transformation now. If he were them, he certainly would. The translating power would have to serve alone-that, and whatever he had in the way of oratory.