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The Cloakmaster Cycle - The Radiant Dragon Part 1

The Cloakmaster Cycle - The Radiant Dragon - BestLightNovel.com

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The Radiant Dragon.

Elain Cunningham.

Spelljammer, Cloackmaster Cycle.

Prologue

For untold centuries, many had sought the truth behind the legend of the Spelljammer, but few had returned to tell of their quest. Now, in a distant corner of Realms.p.a.ce and in the shadow of the great s.h.i.+p itself, the crewmen of a reigar vessel wondered if they soon would join the thousands whose stories had ended in silence.



The awestruck crew members could not judge the Spelljammer's size; at times they perceived it only as an immense blackness that curtained the stars behind it. Their navigator informed them that they had orbited the vessel twice, a feat that had taken many hours. In truth, it was a s.h.i.+p a third of a mile long and half a mile across, shaped like an enormous manta ray with a s.h.i.+ning city atop its back. It was the largest s.h.i.+p in all of known s.p.a.ce, and persistent rumors said it was both a s.h.i.+p and a living ent.i.ty.

The other s.h.i.+p, a reigar esthetic, was a rather unorthodox vessel for such a voyage of exploration. The race known as the reigar was famous for its unusual s.h.i.+ps, but the flamboyant artiste who captained this vessel had taken reigar individuality to new extremes. The s.h.i.+p's base was a conventional wooden hull with a deep keel, but upon the deck was a small forest and a stretch of green meadow. On the stern of the s.h.i.+p a tree-shaded mountain rose abruptly. A stream cascaded down the mountain, ending in a pond filled with bright fish and surrounded by flowers.

The beautiful sylvan scene was all the more remarkable for its origin: the reigar had magically grown everything- including the singing birds, fish, and other woodland creatures-from multicolored crystal. Each plant was so realistic as to appear alive, even to swaying in the magical breezes, but the whole had a color and sheen more intense than any found on even the most magic-laden elven world. A small, sunlike globe orbited the outer edge of the s.h.i.+p's atmosphere, casting an illusion of day and night even in the midst of wilds.p.a.ce. At the bow of the s.h.i.+p was a small, retractable platform on which the sun-globe could come to rest when the s.h.i.+p's helm went down, and the bridge was aft, located at the top of the mountain. There the s.h.i.+p's captain, a reigar woman known as Cholana, sat cross-legged in the shade of a giant crystalline oak.

Around the reigar huddled a semicircle of arcane, the blue-skinned humanoid giants who served as the s.h.i.+p's crew. To one side of Cholana paced her lakshu bodyguard, a muscled amazon warrior, and on the other side sat the s.h.i.+p's wizard in a unique helm that was carved directly into the crystal rock of the mountain. Cholana was lost in magical revery, and tension and foreboding encircled the small a.s.sembly just as surely as the glory-a glowing, glittering halo of twinkling motes-surrounded the entranced reigar.

"By the Departed Elders!" swore one of the arcane in a harsh whisper. His six-fingered blue hand trembled as he pointed to the reigar captain. "Look at Cholana's glory. It's fading!"

For a time even the great s.h.i.+p was forgotten. The arcane muttered among themselves, debating in hushed tones what the omen might portend for their revered captain. Viper, the lakshu, stopped her fierce pacing and studied Cholana with narrowed eyes. In sharp contrast to the arcane's concern, the lakshu's scrutiny of Cholana's glory held no hint of distress.

Yes, the bright mist that surrounded the reigar had faded.

How interesting, Viper noted with cynical detachment. Of course, she found it interesting that the reigar was there at all.

Viper had been on board the esthetic during Cholana's last, spectacularly unsuccessful experiment. The reigar had taken a small longboat out into the flow, where she had attempted to magically channel the rainbow-hued phlogiston into a wilds.p.a.ce mural in her own honor. After the explosion's aftershocks had finally died away, the crew's search had yielded no trace of Cholana or her small boat. The reigar had been presumed dead, and, despite the evidence seated before her, Viper saw no reason to believe otherwise.

Many years before, on the very day she had reached her full fighting weight, the lakshu had pledged her strength and her life in the service of Cholana. As was the custom, Viper had been named for the reigar's shakti, a magical animal totem of great power. The lakshu had been given a matching shakti, the stylized jeweled snake that curled around her wrist and matched the one entwining Cholana's forearm. These shakti were powerful weapons, powerful enough to protect the physically fragile reigar and to secure the allegiance of the wild and warlike lakshu. A singleword of command would change the ornament into an enormous, deadly snake, big enough to ride upon. A second command word could trans.m.u.te the shakti into a suit of scaled armor that gave its wearer the ability to strike with viperlike speed and to spit blasts of deadly venom at even distant attackers. Each shakti was different, but each was a fearsome weapon. Viper wore hers with pride, as befitted a reigar-pledged lakshu warrior.

Since the explosive mishap in the phlogiston, however, Viper's shakti had been nothing more than a pleasant ornament, as dead as the lakshu believed her master to be. The return of the reigar Cholana had not restored the shakti s power.

With a patience uncharacteristic of the wilds.p.a.ce amazons, Viper kept her weapons sheathed and her tongue still as she studied the entranced reigar. The lakshu did not know who or what presumed to sit in her master's place, but she would wait and she would learn. And then she would kill.

Still deep in trance, "Cholana" made a small, restless motion, and her hand grasped the sapphire pendant that hung around her neck. Her narrow fingers curved around the huge gemstone, which shone with a deep, magical blue light. The reigar's fidgeting brightened the motes surrounding her and sent them into dizzying motion.

She did not hear the arcane's collective sigh of relief, nor did she notice the lakshu's suspicious glare. Lost in her magical inquiry, she was barely aware of the body that had been so amusing to a.s.sume. Reigar! she mused silently. Pretentious little creatures, really, but they did have a certain flair.

This one had been a female with short, red-gold ringlets, a body as slim as a snake's, and flamboyant facial makeup consisting of tiny, iridescent scales that transformed her triangular face into an exotic parody of the shakti on her arm. Except for the ancient, sapphire-studded pendant, the reigar's clothing showed the usual creative flair. She wore tight green leggings of some pebbly, s.h.i.+ning fabric and a matching silky s.h.i.+rt that bared her midriff. An elaborate tattoo wound up one thin arm, and jewelry in abstract forms glittered at her ears and fingers. Even the nails on Cholana's hands and bare feet showed typical reigar elan; they had been gilded, dusted with crushed precious stones, and then ensorcelled to show elaborate designs that changed colors in random patterns. As guises went, it was amusing enough.

Amusing, but not entirely effective. She had a.s.sumed the reigar's form in an attempt to avoid detection by the great s.h.i.+p, yet even in her frail and flashy new body she sensed that the s.h.i.+p had detected her. She was, however, a creature of great power and will.

For some time now she had resisted the questing, demanding voice of the s.h.i.+p, intending to learn all she could about it before landing on it. Celestial Nightpearl had not lived all these centuries by being imprudent. Since the day the magical pendant had come into her possession, she'd spent an elf s lifetime exploring its powers and promise. She had defeated enemies who had wanted the pendant for themselves, and she had overcome Others-beings who had held similar magical objects. Now that she'd found the Spelljammer, the first part of her quest was complete. She had yet to determine what would come next.

And so she sent out her seeking thoughts upon the magical stream flowing from the pendant.

She searched for the minds of Others, creatures who either aspired to take or formerly had become the great s.h.i.+p's helmsman.

Without warning, her thoughts. .h.i.t a magical wall. The creature's glittering reigar hand gripped the sapphire tightly, and she poured all her own considerable magic through the stone in an attempt to breach the barrier. Before the power of her will and her magic the wall wavered, became insubstantial, and finally dissipated. The great s.h.i.+p yielded its secrets.

To her surprise, there were three Others on board. Three! she raged silently. Was she supposed to share power with three?

Her fierce concentration slipped and the wall slammed down again. Once again, by sheer force of will and magic- and, she suspected briefly, the intrinsic power of her ultimate helm-she again forced aside the magic barrier.

Three Others were there, yes, but what had they become? Stripped of power, locked in a dark tower, and condemned to a life of imprisonment and isolation? Perhaps they had seen the s.h.i.+p's wonders and had learned its powers, but what good had their knowledge done them? They were pitiful, helpless.

Rage rose in the creature like a dark tide, was.h.i.+ng away her desire to delve into the minds of the Others. The information she had sought for centuries seemed insignificant beside the livingdeath she had glimpsed. This fate could not befall one of her kind. Celestial Nightpearl vowed to find another way.

The "reigar's" trance broke, dispelling the glory that surrounded her and sending the tiny glittering motes flying outward with the force of an explosion. Roaring her dismay, the creature leaped to her feet.

The a.s.sembled arcane tumbled back, stunned by the explosion, but Viper had the presence of mind to fling herself out of range the moment "Cholana" cried out. The lakshu rolled away and came up in a fighting crouch.

What she saw did not surprise her. The being that had taken the form of the reigar Cholana was now changing, growing into a creature of almost unimaginable size and power.

As a good warrior, Viper knew when to attack and when to retreat. She lunged for the arcane wizard. Grabbing his long blue hand, she yanked him out of the helm. With a vicious push, she sent the stunned arcane tumbling down the mountain, then she followed him in a barely controlled roll. They hit the s.h.i.+p's deck hard, but Viper was on her feet instantly. With one hand she grabbed the wizard by the scruff of the neck, and she sprinted toward the esthetic's longboat, easily dragging the dazed twelve-foot giant behind her. She tossed him into the small craft and dove in after him, keeping her head low as her nimble fingers loosened the ropes of her escape craft.

When the longboat was free, Viper peered cautiously over the edge. The creature's transformation was almost complete, and the wooden frame of the esthetic groaned under the weight of a body some five hundred feet long. A rapidly growing tail snaked around the mountain, twitching and stretching as it reached its full length. Every movement of the tail sent crystal shards splintering off into wilds.p.a.ce, and the creature's roars seemed to vibrate deep in Viper's bones. Scales the color of wilds.p.a.ce covered the immense beast, catching the starlight with an opalescent s.h.i.+mmer. Finally, the creature unfolded its wings and beat them like a newly hatched b.u.t.terfly would as it lay drying in the sun. Anger blazed in its intelligent golden eyes, and a huge sapphire gleamed from the enormous pendant that hung around its neck.

With a final, mighty roar, a full-grown radiant dragon burst away from the reigar s.h.i.+p and sped off into the blackness of wilds.p.a.ce. In its rage, it did not notice that a switch of its tail had shattered the reigar s.h.i.+p, sending debris and the broken bodies of Cholana's faithful crew into the void.

Chapter One.

Teldin Moore edged his way through the crowded marketplace, ignoring the exotic wares and the hawking cries of the merchants whose stalls crowded both sides of the narrow streets. For all its enticements, the market was a scene Teldin had seen many times before and on a dozen different worlds. Here, on the cl.u.s.ter of entwined asteroids known as Garden, he wished only to supply his s.h.i.+p and s.n.a.t.c.h a few hours of peace before resuming his quest.

A year earlier, Teldin had been a solitary farmer scratching out a living on faraway Krynn, unaware of the worlds beyond his own. Then a spelljamming s.h.i.+p had crashed on his farm and its dying reigar captain had bequeathed Teldin the cloak he now wore. Since that night he had searched for answers to the cloak's mysteries, always with deadly rivals in close pursuit. He had learned that the cloak was an artifact that would enable him to command the legendary Spelljammer, and he had vowed to find the great s.h.i.+p. Recently a brilliant wilds.p.a.ce sage, an enormous slug known as a fal, had advised Teldin to seek the Spelljammer's birthplace: a broken crystal sphere. Teldin knew nothing of such a place, but after a disastrous experience with the elven Imperial Fleet he was not willing to depend on legend and hearsay for answers. He had purchased his own s.h.i.+p using money given to him by the fal One Six Nine, and he had stopped on Garden to stock up for a long voyage of exploration.

Because of Garden's peculiar shape, sunset came with the speed and drama of an eclipse.

Before Teldin's eyes could adjust to the sudden darkness, a pa.s.sing centaur jostled him, sending him stumbling into one of the gray lizard men engaged in lighting the gas lamps along the street.

The creature turned and hissed at Teldin. Its reptilian eyes narrowed in challenge and its clawed hand curled around the hilt of a dagger. Teldin was not afraid of the lizard man, but neither did he wish to draw attention to himself with a street fight. He held up both hands in a temporizing gesture and murmured a few words of apology. Even as he spoke, he realized his mistake. To such a creature an apology was a sign of weakness, a virtual invitation to attack.Far from attacking, the lizard man fell back a step as if in surprise: After a moment of silence it burst into hissing laughter. Its scaly shoulders shook as it nudged its partner and repeated something in a sibilant language. The other lizard man wheezed out a chuckle and bobbed an appreciative nod in Teldin's direction.

It took the nonplussed human a moment to realize what had transpired; somehow the magic of his cloak had translated his ill-advised apology into a gem of reptile humor. As Teldin walked away, he could hear his mysterious bon mot making the rounds of the lizard men, and the amused hissing behind him brought to mind the sputter of a gnomish steam engine. With a quiet chuckle of his own, Teldin slipped gratefully into the obscurity of the crowd.

As usual, Teldin was careful not to bring attention to himself, but even in the colorful bustle of the marketplace he drew enough glances to make him feel uncomfortable. The cloak again, he thought with a touch of resignation. He recently had learned that its extraordinary magical aura acted as a lure, even to those who were unaware of the cloak's significance. Indeed, some of the beings who cast glances Teldin's way did so with a distinctly puzzled air, as if the magic they sensed could not be reconciled with its rather commonplace incarnation.

In Teldin Moore an ordinary observer would see only a tall young man wearing a black s.h.i.+rt and trousers and a laced tunic of suede leather. His pa.s.sably handsome face no longer bore the mustache he'd once worn, but now was clean-shaven, and his light brown hair was brushed back from a decided widow's peak. His shoulders were broad and draped by a long, dark cloak.

A more perceptive eye would note that the man's lean muscles were the sort earned by a life of unrelenting labor. He wore his short sword with a.s.surance, but his stance and walk were not those of a trained fighter. His square jaw and craggy features gave him the type of face that in later years would be said to "have character;" on a young man that face suggested blunt honesty and a stubborn nature.

In startling contrast were his eyes, bright cornflower blue eyes that lent him an almost boyish mien. The network of fine lines at their corners suggested a sense of humor; the dark hollows beneath spoke of recent struggle and loss. Finally, there was something unusual about the man's cloak. It was an elusive hue, a deep, intense purple that was almost black. The cloak seemed to adjust its color and length almost imperceptibly as its wearer edged his way through the crowded streets.

A little unnerved by the curious glances, Teldin drew the cloak closer as he walked. It had brought him great danger, but it also offered a measure of protection. By now, Teldin had learned many of the cloak's powers through a painful process of trial and error and by its own response to danger. Several times its magic had taken over during a critical situation, giving him a preternatural clarity of mind and seemingly slowing down the action around him so that he could think and react. Teldin could also use the cloak to change his own appearance into whatever form he chose.

Although he did so with reluctance, he had employed this magic often; there were many who sought a tall, blue-eyed man with fair hair and a flowing cloak. His disguises did not seem to hamper some of his pursuers, but Teldin hoped that they at least deterred others who wished to join the race for the cloak. The cloak also translated unknown languages, enabled Teldin to shoot magical missiles and-most importantly-functioned as a helm powerful enough to propel a spelljamming s.h.i.+p at tremendous speed. It often occurred to Teldin that he still had much to learn about the cloak. He tried not to dwell on that thought any more than he had to, though; it was too much like waiting for the other boot to drop.

Teldin's stomach rumbled sharply, reminding him that it had been many hours since his last meal. He rounded a corner and looked for a likely place to eat. At the end of the street was a tavern, of the sort that he could have encountered in any small village back on his homeworld.

The tavern looked cozy, safe, and welcoming. It was long and narrow, with low eaves, a domed, thatched roof, and thick, ancient beams separating expanses of fieldstone and mortar.

Teldin quickly made his way to the offered haven and pushed through the broad wooden door. An involuntary sigh of satisfaction escaped him as he took in the scene sprawled before him.

The patrons were a mixed group; merchants and travelers of many races drank alongside local fisherfolk and yeomen. To the left side of the tavern was a huge stone fireplace big enough to roast a whole boar with room to spare. A red-cheeked cook basted the sizzling roast with a fruit-scented sauce while two halflings struggled to turn the immense spit. Fat, fragrant loaves of bread baked in open ovens on either side of the fireplace. Scattered about the room were small,round tables draped with brightly colored cloths, and a long, well-stocked bar stretched almost the entire length of the back wall. A barrel-shaped dwarven barkeeper was pa.s.sing out tankards of something that foamed and smelled suspiciously like Krynnish ale. Teldin inhaled deeply and followed his nose to a table near the bar.

He ordered dinner and asked for a mug of ale and a goblet of sagecoa.r.s.e, the smoky liquor that Aelfred Silverhorn had favored. Teldin did not care for hard liquor, but it seemed appropriate to lift a gla.s.s in honor of his friend.

Teldin was still stunned by Aelfred's and Sylvie's deaths, even more so than by his male friend's unexpected and unwilling treachery. Teldin did not hold Aelfred responsible for his actions-Aelfred had acted under the spell of an undead neogi wizard-but his loss had shaken Teldin deeply. Betrayal was something Teldin almost had come to expect; the death of his friends was another matter altogether.

Nothing could inure him to the pain and guilt he felt over bringing danger to those around him.

So many had fallen that Teldin, by nature a solitary man, had begun to distance himself still more in fear that caring for others could only result in their deaths. His hippolike friend, Gomja, was gone as well, having left to seek employment and a new life elsewhere.

As if by reflex, his hand drifted to the small bag that hung from his belt. Through the soft, worn leather he fingered the medallion that had been given to him by Gaye, the beautiful, exuberant kender whom he hadn't dared to love. Like most kender, Gaye had a talent for "finding" things, yet she'd gone against kender nature and given up the magical trinket, thinking that Teldin could use it on his quest. Indeed, the fal had told Teldin that the medallion could be used to track the Spelljammer, and Teldin had tried several times to follow the sage's instructions. Every attempt had failed; whatever magic the ancient disk once possessed apparently had faded. He kept Gaye's gift, however, wearing the bag on his belt exactly where her delicate fingers had knotted it.

Leaving Gaye hurt more than he cared to admit.

A polite chirp interrupted his ruminations. Teldin glanced down as small, feathered hands placed a dinner platter before him. He nodded his thanks to the serving wench, a penguinlike creature known as a dohwar, then he attacked his meal without giving the servant a second thought. A year earlier Teldin would have gaped at the dohwar like a farm lad at a two-headed calf, but he'd grown accustomed to encountering peculiar creatures on his travels. He was therefore startled by the involuntary s.h.i.+ver that ran down his spine when his gaze happened to settle on one of the tavern's other patrons.

The robed figure of a tall humanoid male paused just inside the front door. His face was deeply shadowed by the cowl of his brown cloak, but Teldin noted that the face was thin and angular and dominated by a pair of slanted, distinctively elven eyes. One side of the cowl had been pushed back slightly to display a pointed ear. To all appearances, the newcomer was an elf, but it struck Teldin that something was not quite right. The robed figure began to make his way slowly back toward the bar. He moved with elven grace, but there was something foreign and somehow brittle about his movements. It occurred to Teldin that the creature was not quite what he seemed to be: he was elflike but not elven.

There was a certainty to this notion that startled Teldin. He had the oddest sensation that he'd caught a glimpse behind appearances to the elven creature's true nature. Where had that perception come from? he wondered briefly. Was it yet another power of the cloak?

At that moment a very drunken human challenged the newcomer to a knife-throwing contest.

Weaving unsteadily, the man thrust his face into the deep folds of the cowl, a show of belligerence apparently calculated to either intimidate his opponent or overcome him with fumes.

As Teldin watched, the drunk recoiled in horror. Pale and shaken, he backed away, sputtering apologies. Whatever the creature was, it was dangerous, Teldin concluded. In his opinion, elves were bad enough. Any variation on the species created possibilities he did not care to contemplate.

A hard-muscled female adventurer at the table next to Teldin's let out an oath, one colorful enough to distract him momentarily from the mysterious elven creature. He followed the line of her gaze, and his jaw dropped. Hovering in the doorway like an obscenely large eyeball was one of the most feared monsters in all of wilds.p.a.ce: a beholder.

Teldin had heard a score of horror stories about beholders, and he'd seen one stuffed and mounted as a trophy. From time to time, he had wondered whether he might have to face such a creature in battle, but he'd never dreamed he might b.u.mp into one in such a cozy, innocuoussetting. So intent was he on this new threat that he barely noticed the elven creature leave by the side door.

The beholder, levitating about four feet above the floor, floated into the tavern, leaving a spreading wake of silence behind it. As the monster glided the length of the room, firelight glistened on the brainlike folds and crevices of its circular body, and its ten eyestalks turned this way and that as it took in the local color. It made its way to a corner table and came to a stop, hovering in the air over one of the chairs.

Speaking flawless Common, it issued instructions to the suddenly servile tavern keeper.

Within moments a terrified serving girl appeared, bearing a bowl of raw meat, which she tossed piece by piece into the beholder's fanged maw. As it chewed, the beast occasionally blinked the one large eye that was located on its spherical body.

"Bless me, Trivit, I believe that's a beholder. By the Dark Spider, he is a homely fellow," piped an ingenuous voice. The remark carried to the corners of the tavern, and, although the beholder did not appear to take offense, every other patron in the room began to eye the exits.

Teldin's hand strayed to the clasp of his cloak, a habit he'd developed in moments of impending crisis. Out of the corner of his eye he cast a glance at the imprudent speaker. Surprise made him turn his head and stare openly.

Two green dracons stood at the mug-littered bar, observing the beholder with open-mouthed fascination. The reptilian equivalent of a centaur, each dracon boasted a dragon's neck and head, an upright torso with heavily muscled arms ending in clawed hands, and the thick four-legged body and powerful tail of a brontosaur. One of these two beasts had the pale green hide of a tree lizard, and its torso was covered by a s.h.i.+rt of fine chain mail. The other's skin was a mottled moss green, and its armor was fas.h.i.+oned of leather elaborately painted with a swirling pattern of lavenders and deep rose. A chunk of rose quartz hung on a chain around his neck, and an ornamental silver axe was displayed in a shoulder strap! Their open, innocent curiosity indicated that they knew nothing of a beholder's fearsome reputation, and they just as obviously were too ale-soaked to recognize the tension that filled the taproom. Dracons were big, and they were tough, and these two were heavily armed, but they still were no match for a beholder. Someone ought to tell them that, Teldin mused as he took a quick sip of ale. Someone else.

"I'm reminded of a jest, of the sort that makes the rounds of the washroom after a kickball tournament," chirped the pale green dracon. He giggled briefly. "For that matter, I'm reminded of the kickball."

"A ribald jest! Oh, splendid." The darker dracon-who somehow reminded Teldin of an effete, adolescent human- clasped his mottled green hands in antic.i.p.ation. "I'm fond of such. Say on, do."

The pale green dracon cleared his throat with much ceremony before reciting, "How does a beholder, er, shall we say, reproduce?"

His friend cast a smirk at the hideous, still-dining monster and s.h.i.+fted his huge shoulders in a delicate shrug. "With all eleven eyes shut, I'd warrant."

The would-be jester's visage twisted in disappointment. "You heard it already," he accused.

"I most certainly did not," huffed his friend, one clawed hand clutching at his pink jewel in exaggerated, fussy outrage.

"But you must have."

"Upon my word, no."

"You did."

"Did not."

"Did."

"Did not."

The dracons began to shove at each other like two boys in a schoolyard fight. Giving a longing glance at his half-full mug of ale, Teldin tossed back the rest of his sagecoa.r.s.e and rose to leave the tavern. In his opinion, things could get only worse.

As Teldin edged toward the side door, a troop of aperusa burst into the inn, flowing around him in a whirl of sound and color. Laughing and chattering with boisterous humor, the wilds.p.a.ce gypsies immediately took over the taproom. To Teldin's surprise, not one of the aperusa spared the beholder so much as a glance. Obviously the gypsies were hardier souls than he'd been led to believe.

The tavern's patrons seemed relieved by the distraction, and they welcomed the gypsyinvasion with what Teldin considered an unwarranted degree of enthusiasm. What he had seen of aperusa so far, he hadn't particularly liked.

One of the gypsy women brushed past Teldin, deliberately too close. She cast a sidelong, provocative look at him through lowered lashes, then stopped abruptly. Her feigned interest turned into wide-eyed speculation, and she reached up to trace Teldin's jawline with a slender, bronzed hand, crooning an aperusa phrase that the cloak didn't bother to translate. Her tone made the effort unnecessary, and to his chagrin Teldin felt his cheeks flaming. He was accustomed to feminine attention-his rugged good looks had attracted the glances of farmers' daughters since he was a lad-but the boldly appraising look in the aperusa woman's black eyes made him feel uncomfortably like a mackerel in a fish market.

Teldin murmured something that he hoped would grant him a polite escape, and he began to back away. The woman pouted and claimed his arm with a surprisingly strong grip.

Why you go, nyeskataska?" she purred in a brown-velvet contralto. Although there was no reason why he should, Teldin knew the aperusa's endearment roughly meant "one whose eyes are fine blue topaz." He had yet to figure out a pattern to his cloak's capricious translations.

With her free hand, the aperusa made a sweeping gesture hat started with herself and encompa.s.sed the taproom. "Look, nyeskataska, here there is much to enjoy." Her liquid black eyes challenged him as she drew him firmly into the room.

Extricating himself without a scene would not be easy, Fighting down a wave of frustration, Teldin allowed the woman to lead him deeper into the tavern. From what he'd heard of the aperusa's fickle nature, he supposed this one would lose interest in him as soon as she saw a man who appeared wealthier. That, Teldin noted wryly, shouldn't take long. And what would it hurt to spend a few minutes in the company of a beautiful woman?

Beautiful she certainly was, as ripe and full of promise as an autumn morning. Her tight-laced dress was the color of pumpkins, and the sachet pendant that nestled in her cleavage gave off an earthy, spicy aroma. Even her dark, braided hair had an auburn sheen that reminded Teldin of harvest trees viewed by moonlight. Well, he thought, what harm could come of a few more minutes?

As the gypsy woman elbowed a path for them through the tavern, Teldin marveled at the instant carnival atmosphere the aperusa troop had created. Some of the gypsies played wildly infectious music; others shoved tables aside and enticed the inn's patrons to join in the dance.

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The Cloakmaster Cycle - The Radiant Dragon Part 1 summary

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