She shrugged. "There's no reason not to tell you. Most of what I told you about myself was true," she began. Her voice was as unemotional as his, as if they were discussing nothing more significant than the weather. "I'm a message-runner. That's all I've ever wanted to be-alone in a ship, alone with the stars. You remember the talk we had about the stars?" Teldin's only answer was a curt nod. He didn't want to think about their talks. "I left home young," she continued, "and from then on I was always in business of one kind or another. It took me years, but I saved enough money to buy my ship, the Ghost. And that's when I finally got the life I wanted. Since then, I've done whatever it's taken to guarantee that I'll always have that."
"The neogi," he prompted.
"It happened much the way I told you. I was inward bound from Garden, and I met a neogi deathspider. I turned back to Garden and tried to lose them among the rocks, but they hit the Ghost a couple of times, and my helm went down. When they boarded me, I expected to be killed. I was ready to fight, ready to sell my life as dearly as I could…."
"But you didn't have to," he finished for her.
"I didn't have to. They offered me a deal. They'd set me adrift in space right across the course your ship would be following." She smiled. "They understand humans very well. They knew you'd rescue me. They offered me enough to buy myself a much bigger ship."
"And you trusted them?" he asked with scorn. "Neogi?"
She shrugged. "Business is business. I've dealt with humans who are worse than neogi. At least they kept it on a very professional level, just the way I like it. Plus-" there was real satisfaction behind her smile "-they may understand humans in the abstract, but they don't understand me. I don't want a bigger ship. I want something I can crew myself. The advance payment was more than enough for the ship I'd buy. So if they didn't come through with the rest of the money, I'd still be ahead."
"They have no hold over you, then," Teldin pointed out.
"When I cut a deal, I stick to it," she said sharply.
They'd drifted off the important topic. "So we rescued you," he said. "Then what?"
"Then I was to stay with you and relay information back to them through some other spies they've got on Toril."
Teldin was shocked. "How did they know I was coming to Toril at all?"
"They didn't say and I didn't ask," she answered simply. "They knew you'd be coming to Rauthaven and guessed you'd try to contact the arcane. Barrab was one of their people. So was the bartender in the Pig and Whistle. I got further instructions through those two: to lead you somewhere where we could get the cloak with the least amount of fuss."
"But Barrab betrayed you, didn't he?"
"That pig!" Rianna spat. "He turned. He cut a deal with the mind flayers. I hope it gets him killed."
Teldin stared at Rianna as though seeing her for the first time. In a way, he was. The woman before him wasn't the same person he'd fallen for. "What about us, Rianna?" he asked quietly. "That was a setup, too, wasn't it?"
She laughed. "Of course it was. Didn't you ever think our romance was happening too fast? Are you usually that quick to give your heart and your trust to a stranger? I churned you, Teldin, that night in the tavern. Such a simple little bit of magic, but, oh, so effective."
New emotions twisted within Teldin's breast. Anger was there, anger over being used, but overpowering the anger was a deep sense of humiliation. His cheeks burned with it. He'd been used-used in a way he hadn't imagined possible. His will had not been his own; he'd been nothing more than a puppet, and Rianna had pulled the strings.
With a vast effort, he forced the emotion into the background. "Why are we here?" he asked.
"Why not?" Rianna replied simply. "Why not arrange things so you go-of your own free will-where my employers wanted you?"
Teldin remained silent. After all, what more was there to say?
Rianna studied him, and her smile faded a little. Teldin could read her doubts in her expression: Why is he taking this so calmly? she must be wondering. What does he know that I don't know? Then her face cleared and she laughed, "You're expecting good old Aelfred to help you, aren't you?" she asked in feigned wonder. Her face and tone hardened. "Forget it," she told him. "He's dead. As soon as we left the ship, my men were to kill him, stab him in the back. The Probe's secure, and there's nobody left to make that daring last-moment rescue. How sad." She raised her blade to point at his chest. "Now, your sword, if you don't mind."
Teldin didn't respond. Another friend dead, he thought: Aelfred, of the lopsided grin and hearty laugh, soon to be followed by Julia, of the copper hair, then by himself. Such a long road he'd followed, to end up here. The effort, the pain, the loss-all had been for nothing. All had led-simply and inevitably-to this, the final loss. He looked into Rianna's cold eyes. Why? Was he looking for mercy, for compassion? There was none of that to be found. Her sword glittered in the starlight. The blade was steady. There was: no way she'd hesitate to kill him. "Drop it," she snapped.
He felt dull surprise as he realized he still held his sword- the sword she'd given him. He looked down at the weapon in his hand, then up at Rianna's face. Why not? The thought came unbidden. Why not attack her now? He'd lose, he knew that, but he was going to die anyway. Why not try to inflict at least some faint echo of his pain on her? If I'm to die, why not with the song of steel in my ears? He remembered Gomja, the giff, and the gnome, Dana. They'd both died the way they'd wanted. How did Teldin want to die? Trying to kill the woman who'd betrayed him? Why not?
Rianna had been watching his eyes. Now hers widened and she took a step back from what she'd seen in his gaze. He felt his lips draw back from his teeth in a feral grin.
Do not do this. The words formed, cool and precise, in his mind. It took all of his effort to keep himself from looking over at Estriss. Rianna hadn't reacted: the words hadn't been directed at her.
His mind raced. Perhaps Rianna didn't know that the illithid could communicate privately. Was there some way he could turn that to his advantage? No, there was nothing he could think of, not unless he could talk to Estriss without the others knowing. He gripped his sword tighter.
Do not do this, the mind flayer repeated. A life thrown away is opportunity lost.
Teldin hesitated. The illithid's words sounded somehow like a proverb of some kind, then the meaning hit home. When he'd been growing up, one of his grandfather's favorite aphorisms had been "While there's life, there's hope." To tell the truth, he'd always thought it one of the only really fatuous things his grandfather had ever said. But now, for the first time, he saw the truth in it. No matter how dearly he sold his life, his only payment would be death and the knowledge that the cloak would fall to the neogi. If he waited, there was always the chance-no matter how small-that he could do something to better the odds, even to overcome them. After all, he could make that final, all-out attack at virtually any time. He twisted his body slightly and felt Aelfred's dagger against the skin of his stomach, held in place by his belt. However the big man had guessed, he'd guessed right. Teldin let his feral smile fade and loosened his grip. The short sword's blade rang as it fell to the ivory deck. Showing empty hands, he stepped back from the weapon.
Cautiously, never taking her eyes from his, Rianna pocketed her spell components-if that's what they were-and bent to pick up the dropped sword. She straightened and slipped the sword into her own scabbard. Her smile was broad, much more confident now. "Good choice," she cooed, then her voice hardened again. "Now," she said, reaching out toward him, "the cloak, please…."
She didn't realize he couldn't remove the cloak! Teldin realized with a shock. Of course not: he'd never mentioned it. Was there any way he could turn that to his advantage?
"No," a harsh voice spat from behind Teldin. "Own prize I will take."
Teldin knew that voice. He'd heard it, or one very much like it, on Krynn once before, and he knew the creature that produced it. He turned slowly.
The neogi had emerged from the door nearest the
left end of the room. It advanced slowly toward him, the claws tipping its eight insectlike limbs clicking on the bonelike deck. Its bare, fleshy neck moved restlessly, like a snake's. Its mouth was open in a grin that showed needle-sharp teeth. The creature's pelt virtually blazed with a profusion of colors-the colors of a chaotic rainbow, or of the flow.
"Prissith Nerro Master," Rianna said, with a bow.
"Yes," the neogi hissed. Its small red eyes flicked back and forth between Rianna and Teldin. "Yes," it repeated, "master. You, woman: my prize you brought, but touch it you will not. Too great the temptation to betray."
"Betray." Rianna picked up on the word. "Master, the one known as Barrab has betrayed you. He's sold his services to the illithids. He…"
Prissith Nerro cut her off with a gale of harsh neogi laughter. "Master not learn this, you think? Lesser races meat are, only, no more." The creature fixed her with an evil smile. "Ambition of Barrab greater than wisdom, always. To me meat returned, for higher price meat asked." The neogi laughed again. "Higher price meat paid." The eellike head turned, and the creature barked a short phrase in an ugly tongue.
Another creature appeared in the doorway from which the neogi had emerged. Again, Teldin had seen its kind before, during the battles at Mount Nevermind and aboard the Probe. Eight feet tall it stood, bulging with great muscles beneath its black, armored hide. The umber hulk bore a bundle in its great, taloned arms, a bundle the color of burgundy. It threw its burden down to land with a soggy thump at its small lord's feet.
Teldin had expected to see Barrab again, one way or another-but not like this. The man lay crumpled, blood already pooling beneath him. His whole body seemed to be raw flesh, with hardly a scrap of skin remaining intact. Only his face was untouched. Another death, Teldin thought, another death over this cloak.
Barrab's eyes opened, rolling wildly. The eyes were glazed with agony beyond description, but still, deep within them was a spark of awareness-and of horror greater than any living creature should have to face. The neogi's head flashed down, and the spark was extinguished forever. Prissith Nerro smiled at Rianna. Its thin black tongue licked red gobbets from its teeth. "Thus to all traitors," it hissed. It took another clicking step toward Teldin. "Now, prey," the creature spat. "The cloak."
Teldin backed away-one step, two. He bumped into something. Rianna. She was shaken-he could see that in her face-almost as shaken as he was, but he saw, too, that she was in control of herself. She forced a shaky smile onto her face. The point of her sword pricked into his back. She stepped back from him-farther from the neogi and Barrab's remains- until her sword was at arm's length, its point still against Teldin's flesh. "Sorry, lover," she said quietly. "I told you: a deal's a deal." He saw that her left hand again held spell components: a scrap of fur and something that looked like a tiny rod of amber.
Prissith Nerro clicked forward. Teldin felt as though a scream were bubbling in his throat, fighting for release. He looked around wildly-for escape, for help… for anything that could deliver him from this ultimate horror. The bravos still encircled Estriss. They'd stepped back, instinctively, away from the neogi, away from the monstrous slave and its burden. Their eyes certainly weren't on the illithid, but their swords were steady, ready to end his life if he so much as moved.
Julia? No, the sellsword still held her tightly, his blade poised to slice her throat open. There was no help anywhere.
"The cloak;" Prissith Nerro repeated.
The cloak. The words echoed in Teldin's brain. The cloak. Memories clashed in his brain, so powerful, so intense that the remembering was a physical pain. He closed his eyes in an uncontrollable flinch. The Probe's foredeck-he could see it around him: The swordsman stepping forward, blade swinging to take his life; the flare of power-behind him, around him, within him; skin tingled, bones burned, the feeling of sunlight, of blue-white radiance.
The overwhelming force of the memories diminished, but the thrilling within his bones remained. He opened his eyes.
The lighting was different-brighter, harsher-and every eye in the room was fixed on him. The pricking of Rianna's sword was gone from his back.
It took him a moment to realize that the cloak around his shoulders was glowing with a hard, brittle light.
The neogi reared back, hissing in horror, its tiny eyes half-lidded against the glare. "Control it, meat does," it spat. "Wield it, meat does." Then Teldin saw realization dawn on its face. "No," the creature murmured. "Control it meat does nor. Reflex it is. Nothing more." The neogi smiled thinly and moved forward again. "For giving me fear meat will pay."
As the light bloomed around him, Teldin had expected the same crystal clarity and focus of thought he'd experienced before, but there was no trace of calm within him. Fear still possessed him. He looked around wildly, instinctively. The sellswords had backed away farther; in the knot of figures, only Estriss had held his ground. The bravo holding Julia had lowered his blade a fraction.
Claws clicked. The neogi was so close that Teldin could feel its warm breath on his face, could smell the reek of corruption it exuded. "Prey," it spat once more. Its sinuous neck reached forward and its jaws opened to tear the cloak from around Teldin's shoulders.
No! The mental voice blasted into Teldin's brain with such power that he screamed with the pain of it and clutched his skull with both hands, as if to stop it from exploding. He spun.
Estriss lunged forward. One bravo was reeling backward, mouth open in a silent scream, clawing at his head in unendurable agony. The bizarre, Juna-made knife was in the illithid's red-tinged hand. The curved blade lashed out, and another bravo collapsed, his head almost cleaved from his body. One of the sellswords was quicker to react than his fellows. He lunged, opening a gash in the mind flayer's side, but Estriss was free of the circle. The illithid flung himself forward, at the neogi, at Teldin. His empty hand reached out, an attempt to grab the neogi's throat… or to snatch the cloak for himself. Teldin couldn't be sure which. Prissith Nerro responded instantly. Its head lashed out and its teeth sank into the illithid's neck beneath the writhing tentacles. The two creatures, locked together, staggered toward Teldin. He stepped back, raising his hands to protect himself….
And the power blossomed within him. Fire coursed through his veins, flashed along every nerve. He felt that his skull would rupture, that his eyes would burst from his head. Agony mixed with ecstacy. He howled.
Light burst from his extended hands, a blinding curtain of energy. The air in front of him sizzled.
Illithid and neogi reeled away from the coruscating wall of light. Together they slammed into one of the huge windows. The crystal cracked, then shattered, and glittering fragments were blown outward into the void. Still the creatures were locked together; the neogi's teeth were still sunk into Estriss's flesh, while the mind flayer's facial tentacles were wrapped around Prissith Nerro's skull. The illithid dropped his blade, dug his fingers into the neogi's fleshy throat-more for support, Teldin thought, than from any attempt to further harm the creature. They teetered for a moment on the lip of the shattered window, silhouetted against star-speckled blackness. Then, silently, they plunged from sight.
As suddenly as it had arisen, the power that had flooded through Teldin's body vanished. In its wake was weakness and biting cold. His legs buckled, and he collapsed to his hands and knees on the hard deck. Gray fog clouded his vision. It was all he could do to cling to consciousness. Sounds of chaos surrounded him: the skirl of steel on steel, a man's shout of agony, the umber hulk's frenzied barking and roaring. He simply couldn't bring himself to care. There seemed to be no energy left in his body or mind.
Rianna's voice cut through his exhaustion. "Get back," she shouted. "Back!"
His head might have weighed half a ton for the effort it took to raise it. He moaned with the pain, but at least the exertion seemed to clear the mist from before his eyes.
The umber hulk was waving its arms and dashing its mandibles in obvious rage as it advanced on Rianna… and on
Teldin. "Get back," the woman yelled to him. "It'll kill us all."
It was the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life, but he managed to force himself to his feet. He shambled back, away from the advancing creature.
Rianna stood her ground. She'd dropped her sword, keeping only the spell components. She held the scrap of fur in one hand, the amber rod in the other. Quickly she rubbed them together, muttering phrases of power under her breath, then she thrust a finger out toward the approaching hulk.
Blue-white lightning leaped from her fingertip, smashed into the creature's bulging chest, and burst out through its back, leaving a blackened, smoking hole. The creature screeched, flailing its arms in paroxysms of agony. It stumbled back, but it didn't fall. The gaze from its four eyes, blood red with hatred, was fixed on Rianna.
Teldin backed farther away. His foot caught on something, almost sending him sprawling. He looked down. It was Estriss's Juna knife. Quickly he scooped it up. Even that little exertion dimmed his vision again, but through pure willpower he fought back the darkness.
The umber hulk was advancing again-slower now, but still advancing. Rianna took a measured step back, her hands weaving another spell. Another lightning bolt tore into the creature, this time striking it in the center of its misshapen head. The skull burst asunder. The headless body remained standing for an endless moment, then crashed to the deck.
Behind Teldin, a man screamed in terminal agony. Teldin spun around.
Julia had broken free of the bravo who'd held her. He lay on his back behind her, the hilt of a dagger protruding from his throat. Another sellsword writhed on the deck, bright blood seeping from a horrible wound in his stomach, while a third lay motionless beside him. The final bravo-the one who'd screamed-was slowly crumpling to the deck. Julia's sword was buried to the quillions in his chest. As Teldin watched, Julia pulled the blade free and stepped back. The small woman's face was grim, and her eyes were hard. Her jerkin was soaked with blood-hers and others'. Her left arm was gashed across the biceps and hung uselessly at her side, and there was another deep wound in her right shoulder. She must be in agony, Teldin realized, but her control is colossal. Her bloody blade was steady in her hand as she stepped over her last victim's body and advanced toward Rianna. She shot Teldin a quick, tight-lipped smile, then turned her flint-cold eyes on Rianna. "Get away from him, you whore from hell," she grated.
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