The Radiant Dragon by Elaine Cunningham

known one illithid well enough to perceive this one’s distress. The creature clasped its three-fingered hands before it, and the four tentacles that formed the lower part of its face writhed with agitation. In the dim purple light, its flowing robe was a deep maroon, almost black. With a stab of shock, Teldin realized that he knew Netarza’s guest very well.
    We meet again, Teldin Moore, came a familiar mental voice, removing any doubt of the creature’s identity.
    “Hello, Estriss,” Teldin said aloud.
    Netarza’s head snapped around to face Teldin. You know each other?
    We have met, Estriss “said.” The illithid’s mental tone was dismissing, minimizing the importance of the relationship.
    Teldin was not surprised by Estriss’s coolness. At their last meeting, Teldin had suspected his one-time comrade of treachery, and he had convinced the illithid’s crew to mutiny. Teldin had taken Estriss’s hammership, the Probe, into wildspace, intending to get rid of the cloak by giving it to an arcane. There he had found the arcane slain and himself betrayed to the neogi.
    Netarza studied Teldin, and one tentacle curled up to tap thoughtfully against her lavender forehead. I know less of the cloak’s powers than I would like. Estriss, as always, is full of talk of the Juna and has revealed nothing of value. Perhaps, Teldin Moore, you will tell me what you know of the cloak, and why the elder-brain wishes to possess it?
    Turning his eyes away from the mind flayer’s probing gaze, Teldin deliberately kept his mind blank. Although he wasn’t entirely sure Estriss had spoken the whole truth, the illithid once had claimed he could read Teldin’s mind only when the human formed words in silent speech. Apparently Netarza did not get the answer she sought, for after several moments the illithid captain hissed and shot a glance over her shoulder. Immediately an elf glided forward.
    It is time to earn your keep, wizard. Tell me whatever you can about this human, Netarza instructed the elf.
    A hint of light returned to the wizard’s eyes as Netarza allowed him to reclaim enough of his mind and memory to perform the required spell. The elf’s index finger moved sluggishly through the gestures of the spell, and his voice was slurred as he muttered arcane syllables.
    Teldin stiffened, enraged by the magical intrusion on his life. He had no idea what information the spell would yield, but anything would be too much.
    “There is magic about his cloak,” the wizard began in a dull tone.
    The illithid hissed her exasperation and shoved the elf aside. She stepped forward and took the silky green fabric of the cloak between her fingers. Instinctively Teldin swatted away her hand. She released the cloak and caught his wrist in a movement almost too quick for his eyes to follow.
    You don’t want me to touch your cloak? I wonder why, she asked sweetly. Perhaps there were some gems amid the rubble of Estriss’s tales and theories, after all. He mentioned an artifact of the Juna, and claimed that anyone with magical ability who touched the artifact could thereafter track it. Not that I would be so foolish as to let such an artifact out of my sight, she concluded. One of her facial tentacles arched in an approximated sneer as she cast a glance in Estriss’s direction.
    Despite the danger of his situation, Netarza’s words struck Teldin like a blow. They confirmed something he had long suspected: from the very beginning, Estriss had known about his cloak and had tracked him down, hoping to possess it. An old sadness, one that he had thought long spent, welled up in Teldin, and he met the expressionless eyes of his false friend with an accusing gaze.
    Tell Netarza nothing, urged Estriss’s mental voice, throbbing with intensity. In her own way, she and all her kind are as evil as the neogi. The Spelljammer in their hands is a possibility too appalling to contemplate. On this you must trust me.
    Teldin stood silently for a long moment,