Do they convey emotions to you? Estriss asked. He pointed to one tapestry, an intricate tessellation of five-pointed stars, broken here and there by large regions of featureless red. This one, for example. What emotion does it portray to you?
Teldin looked closer at the tapestry. The weaving was incredibly intricate, and it was fascinating the way the stars-each subtly different in shape-interlocked so perfectly, but… "No real emotion," he had to admit.
Estriss looked disappointed. Truly? It is one of the most emotionally evocative works I have ever found. Estriss fixed Teldin with his white eyes. Are you sure? No sense of pride, of exultation?
"None."
The illithid gave a whistling sigh. There seem to be some things that simply cannot cross racial boundaries, he mused. Of course, much of it may be due to differences in our optical apparatuses. He reached out a red-tinged finger and touched one of the featureless patches of deep red on the tapestry. Do you see the continuation of the pattern here?
Teldin looked closer, but the region remained undifferentiated red. "No," he said. "What do you mean?"
To my eyes, the illithid explained, the pattern is as clear there as it is here. He pointed to a region where the stars were strongly contrasting blues and greens.
"How is that possible?"
My eyes are adapted to see farther into the infrared than are humans', Estriss explained. When I see a rainbow, I see two bands of color beyond red, colors that humans cannot see.
Teldin felt a sense of wonder growing within him. "What do they look like, these colors?" he asked.
The illithid's tentacles writhed with amusement. First describe to me what green looks like, he suggested.
Teldin was taken aback. "What? Well, it looks…" His voice trailed off, and he had to smile. "It looks green" he finished. "All right, it was a dumb question."
Estriss gave one of his shattered-spine shrugs. We drift far from the point, he remarked. We were speaking of the cloak.
A little self-consciously, Teldin touched the garment, still a small band around the back of his neck. "You say it drains energy from me," he said. "How?"
There is no way for me to be sure, Estriss admitted. Most enchanted items draw their energy directly from elsewhere- from the Positive or Negative Material Planes, for example- much as do spells.
"I thought wizards were the power source for their own spells," Teldin put in.
Estriss shook his head. Not possible, he said flatly. Do you know how much energy is involved in even the simplest of spells? If that power were drawn directly from the caster, it would leave him exhausted at the very least, but more likely a lifeless husk. No, the energy comes from elsewhere. Now, with enchanted objects-he moved smoothly back to his original point- the energy is focused by the item and directed so as to have on effect in the physical world. It is like-be struggled for an analogy-like when you carry a lantern. The energy of the lantern's light is produced and focused by the lantern it-self, though it is you who directs that energy by moving the lantern. Do you understand?
"I think so," Teldin said slowly. "The cloak is different?"
The cloak is different, Estriss confirmed. When you used magic to defend yourself from your attacker, the power was channeled through you, through your body. It was as if the cloak poured power into your body, then you released that power in the manner and direction that you willed. Was that not how it felt?
Teldin remembered the sensations: the flood of heat through his body, the feeling that he must be burning with light, the terror, the pain, and the ecstasy…. He nodded wordlessly.
In that way, the cloak is different from anything I have experience with, the illithid continued. And there is more. The fact that you were drained after the experience tells me that some of your own energy was added to what was released. You contributed to the power-not much, or else you would now be dead, but to some degree. The mind flayer's facial tentacles writhed, adding to the tone of intensity in his mental words. Do you realize what that means? he asked. It means that you actively participated in using magic, but you are not a mage. I have never heard of anything like this before.
Teldin shook his head again. This was getting deep, and he'd never really had the interest or the determination to worry about philosophy. It was also getting scary. "Is that the way it should work?" he asked.
I seriously doubt it, Estriss replied at once. I think it is a result of you not knowing how to control the cloak's functions. "Is it dangerous?"
I believe it may well be, the illithid told him soberly. Although it was impressive, and highly effective, the power you wielded on the forecastle was relatively minor, as such things go. There is no reason to believe that the display we witnessed is the most powerful capability the cloak possesses. It is possible you may accidentally trigger a facility that is more significant, that will pour more power through your body. It is also possible that your unintended… participation… in this energy flow might permanently damage you.
"Or kill me," Teldin added quietly.
Or kill you.
"What do I do? Never use the cloak? I don't bow how I used it this time."
No, the illithid said sharply. Deciding never to use the cloak is useless. The power was triggered accidentally this time. You did not consciously intend to wield it. It seems likely, perhaps inevitable, that you will again trigger it by accident.
"But, then, what do I do?" Teldin asked desperately. "I can't take the cloak off, and if I don't take it off, eventually it's going to kill me, isn't that what you're saying?" He spat one of Aelfred's mercenary oaths. "The only question is, what will kill me first, the cloak or the neogi?"
There is another way, Estriss cut him off firmly. I said that the draining effect is simply because you are unfamiliar with controlling the cloak. If you were to become familiar, however…
Teldin was silent for several heartbeats, then, "How?" he asked forcefully. "It's never done anything when I've wanted it to, only when it's wanted." He shivered. For a moment, he could almost believe that the cloak on his back was some kind of intelligence-maybe a malign one, considering what had been happening to him lately-that was playing with him like a cat plays with a mouse… before killing it.
Estriss shook his head so violently that his facial tentacles flailed. It is an easy trap to fall into, to ascribe intelligence to the cloak, he said firmly, but I urge you not to fall into it. The cloak has no sentience-none-but… The creature's eyes hooded under double eyelids. But you are right, in a way. The problem lies in triggering the cloak.
"How do you normally trigger a magic item?"
It varies widely, the illithid said. For some, it is a word that must be spoken aloud, or repeated mentally. For others, it is sufficient to visualize the desired outcome. For others still, it is simply an act of will, as when you move your arm. The creature paused. From my research on the Juna, he continued at length, it seems there are other ways. A word of command is, after all, merely a number of symbols-in this case, spoken syllables-strung together in a sequence. There are other kinds of symbols as well. My research implies that some items may be triggered by visualizing a sequence of geometrical forms or relationships. Or even, perhaps, a sequence of emotions. Do you understand?
"Only vaguely," Teldin admitted, "but then I don't really understand how a word can trigger something either." He hesitated. "How does this matter?"
What did you feel, Teldin? Estriss asked intensely. What did you feel, what did you think, when you fought the man on the forecastle? Try to recall.
"I felt fear," Teldin replied instantly. "I thought… I thought I was going to die."
Be more precise.
"I don't know."
I saw your movements, as I tried to reach you. You reached out with your hand, toward your attacker. Why? What were you thinking? What, exactly?
Teldin tried to force his mind back to that moment, but it was difficult. The memory was blurred, indistinct. Yes, the illithid was right. He had reached out. Why?
To save himself. To block the swing of that deadly sword…. "To stop him."
How?
"I don't know," Teldin said, "it was just a reflex. It wouldn't have worked."
But you did stop him, Estriss reminded him. Perhaps it was your emotion the cloak responded to, your desire to stop the man, in any way possible. Perhaps it was that desire, that unintentional act of will… if that makes any sense. The illithid thought for a moment. What did you feel when the power was released?
"Heat," Teldin responded, "and light. The cloak burst into light-"
There was no light that I saw, Estriss interrupted.
Teldin frowned. "That's what I felt, though, like the sun at my back, but much more so. The light and heat spread through my body."
You cried out.
"It hurt… but it didn't." Teldin paused, trying to make sense of the memory. "I don't know," he said eventually. "It hurt so much it felt good. Or it felt so good it hurt. I can't really remember which, and I can't be sure I even knew at the time."
Estriss nodded. I wish you to try an experiment, he said. Try to recreate those feelings. I want you to imagine them. Imagine them so strongly that you can feel them again. And-he pointed at the cabin door-I want you to protect yourself from that door.
Teldin gaped. "What?"
The cloak came to your defense once, the illithid said. It saved your life. What good is a defense if you cannot use it at will? I believe you must learn to control the cloak's power, and there is only one way to learn. To experiment. To try. Try for me, he urged. The door is a creature that wishes to kill you, and you must protect yourself. Do it.
Teldin smiled; the illithid's words were so reminiscent of Aelfred's sword lesson. Nevertheless, he had to admit to himself the idea was intriguing, attractive in a grim kind of way. He'd seen Vallus wield magic, to save his own life and the lives of his colleagues, and he'd assumed that such power would forever be beyond his grasp. But here was Estriss, telling him that he may be able to do something similar.
He couldn't ignore the illithid's words about the dangers of the cloak. If Estriss was right, if the only way to prevent the cloak from someday killing him was to become practiced in its use, then he had to try.
He nodded and closed his eyes. Relive the experience, he told himself. I'm back there, I have to do something or I'm dead. He remembered the sense of heat on his back, concentrated on it, tried to feel it once again. Heat and light flaring around his shoulders, pouring into his body, burning through his bones like lightning. The sense of overwhelming energy, licking through him, forcing its way out. Pain and pleasure, pleasure and pain. Live it, he told himself. He tried to recreate the sense of power welling up inside him, welling up so strongly it had to go somewhere or he'd explode. He shot a hand out toward the door….
Nothing.
The intensity of the memory faded. He let it go-not without a twinge of sadness-let his concentration slip away. He opened his eyes. His chest burned from holding his breath, and when he wiped his forehead his fingers came away sweat-dampened. "I can't," he said dully.
Estriss nodded. Emotion is a great part of it, I think, he mused. You feared for your life, you wished to do anything to stop your attacker, and the cloak responded to that. The creature paused. If we were to carry the experiment to its logical conclusion, I suppose I should try to attack you. His tentacles gestured amusement. But I fear the experiment might succeed too well.
There is another possibility I would like you to try, the illithid went on, if you are willing.
Teldin took a deep breath to ease the tension in his chest and nodded. "Nothing too drastic," he suggested, less drastic than the last experiment, Estriss assured him. "What is it?"
Let me tell you something mote of my research into the Juna, Estriss suggested.
Teldin looked around for somewhere to sit. There was no mattress on the cabin's bunk, but at least it was flat, so he settled himself on the edge.
The legends and myths that deal with the Juna all seem to share one motif, the illithid went on. In some it is central, in others merely touched on, but it does seem to be common. He paused.
"Go on," Teldin prompted dutifully. "What is it?"
Shapeshifting, Estriss said. The ability to change form, to take on different appearances. Initially I believed that this was symbolic, merely a representation of the ability to adapt to different situations, but as I delved further, I concluded that tie stories were at least partially naturalistic. I believe that the Juna were experts at shapeshifting magic. He hesitated. Will you trust me in this conclusion, or should I explain my evidence?
"I trust you," Teldin answered hastily.
Estriss nodded. If the cloak was created by the Juna, as I suspect, then it may incorporate some form of shapeshifting enchantment. Will you try this for me?
This is getting just too strange, Teldin found himself thinking, but he couldn't say that to the illithid. After all, with what he'd seen over the past couple of days, how could he refuse to consider something just because it sounded bizarre? "How do you mean?" he asked.
Simply put, I want you to try to assume the form of mother. Aelfred Silverhorn, for example.
"How?"
The illithid's mental voice took on a calming, almost fatherly, tone. I realize it sounds outlandish, Estriss said. Or perhaps 'outlandish' is not a strong enough word. Believe me when I say I would not even suggest this if there were not some evidence to support my ideas. He paused. I understand that you feel somewhat embarrassed by this, is that not so?
Teldin had to nod. He didn't quite know why-after all, he and the illithid were the only people in the room-but he did feel embarrassed, even humiliated.
I find it difficult to understand human emotions, Estriss went on. Would it lessen your embarrassment if I assured you that I am not doing this to put you in a position of dishonor?
Teldin couldn't help but smile. The illithid seemed so earnest, so guileless. "Tell me what to do," he suggested.
I can only guess at this, so you must bear with me, Estriss said. First, please close your eyes and build up, in your mind, a detailed picture of Aelfred Silverhorn.
Teldin did as he was instructed. With his eyes closed, he pictured Aelfred's face hanging in space before him. Slowly he let it build in detail: curly blond hair, dose-cropped to the head; bone-white scar above the right eyebrow; lines in his weather-tanned skin, framing steady eyes; lopsided grin.
Do you have it? Estriss asked.
Teldin answered without opening his eyes. "Yes."
Take the next step. Imagine your own face next to Aelfred's. Again, make it as detailed as you con.
Teldin was a little surprised at how much more difficult it was to build up a picture of himself. Surely he should be more familiar with his own face, the one he wore every day? But no, he realized after a moment, that wasn't necessarily the case. When did he see his own face? In the mirror when he shaved each day, and that was about it.
Again he let the picture build in detail: lean face, with finely chiseled cheekbones; tanned skin, even darker than Aelfred's; short hair of sun-bleached brown; network of crow's-feet bracketing bright, cornflower-blue eyes.
Now move your picture of Aelfred's face over that of yours, Estriss instructed. Aelfred's face must totally cover yours. Where the two faces are superimposed, both faces still exist, but only Aelfred's is visible. Do you understand?
In fear that speaking might somehow break his concentration, Teldin nodded wordlessly. In his mind's eye, Aelfred's face moved until it overlaid his own. At first he could see both sets of features in some kind of strange superimposition. Blue and gray eyes stared out of the same sockets; hair that was both brown and blond covered the head. Then, slowly, his own features began to fade from view.
Power! He felt it, a warm tingling in his shoulders, spreading through to his chest. It was a lot more subtle than what he'd felt on the foredeck. In fact, was it really there at all? Or was it just wishful thinking on his part? After
what the illithid had told him, he wanted to be able to summon the power of the cloak….
The mental pictures started to fade. With an effort of will, Teldin ignored his questions and the hint of power-if that was what it was-and pushed both from his mind. All that mattered at the moment were the faces he visualized.
In his mental picture, his own features finally vanished. Only Aelfred's remained.
He heard a sharp, hissing intake of breath from Estriss. Slowly he opened his eyes.
The mind flayer was looking at him intently. The illithid's facial tentacles were still. In fact, the creature was as motionless as a statue.
"Did it work?" Teldin asked.
Estriss was silent for a moment, then asked, What do you feel? His mental tone was emotionless, noncommittal.
The illithid's intense scrutiny was making Teldin uneasy. He shifted on the edge of the bunk. "I think I felt something," he said slowly, "but I'm not sure. It could have been my imagination."
How do you feel now? Estriss pressed. Warm? Cold?
Teldin paused. Now that the mind flayer mentioned it, he did feel as if the temperature in the cabin had dropped a couple of degrees. Plus, he felt the thin, somehow edgy feeling he always associated with not enough sleep or not enough to eat. "Slightly cool," he replied at last. "Estriss, did it work?"
Estriss didn't answer immediately, and that was answer enough. Teldin raised a hand to his face, ran his fingers over his nose and cheek….
And snatched his hand away with a stifled cry. It wasn't his face that he'd touched. The nose was broader, tie cheekbones less pronounced. Even the texture of the skin was different. The sensations from his fingers were as if he'd reached out and touched someone else's face, yet the nerves of his face felt his exploring fingers as if nothing at all were amiss. The combination of the prosaic with the alien was shocking-terrifying at some deep level of his being. He sprang to his feet and looked around the cabin for something he could use for a mirror.
Estriss had anticipated his need. The illithid had removed a thin disk of finely polished silver metal from a drawer in the desk and now handed it to Teldin without a word.
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