Free The Maelstroms Eye by Roger Moore

rather – because you would know what to do about it.” He decided not to mention then that he had also been told that the cloak had been made by the blue-skinned giants known as the arcane; after all, an arcane had told him that, and he might have had ulterior motives in doing so.
    “It would not surprise me if the elves had indeed made it,” said Cirathorn. “We know nothing of the identity of the Star Folk, and perhaps they could have been elves. Here and there across the spheres, our fleet has found strange ruins or ships, perhaps one in every ten spheres, which are each unaccountably old and bear symbols in a trifoliate pattern – three leaves, three-pointed stars, and the like. These rains are filled with danger, with magic so powerful and old that it has lost its meaning and now strikes out in its madness at all who trespass. A few more fragments of our past we have found in those ruins and wrecks, but no sign of the Star Folk, and no trace of their fate. Your cloak, Teldin Moore, as you probably know, also bears that trifoliate pattern.”
    Everyone in the room stared at Teldin, which made him acutely uncomfortable. “It’s a flower, I believe,” he said.
    The admiral nodded agreement. “Indeed it is, as I have seen with my own eyes. We wish to copy that pattern for our histories before you leave us. Of the Cloak of the First Pilot, only a few rhymes and tales remain. One speaks of the ‘shining garment’ the First Pilot wore. Another says that the First Pilot was given a necklace before he set out on his mission, and he wore this gift, though some authorities refer only to the cloak. The most extensive fragment, the ‘Song of the First Pilot,’ is a short set of verses that tells of the gifting of the cloak and the First Pilot’s enthusiasm for the voyage. Little else is known to us. Long have our people thirsted for knowledge of every sort, but of the distant past, of the origins of all space-faring peoples, we have found little to whet our tongues. You honor us all, Teldin Moore, with your visit.”
    Teldin was embarrassed. “I’m honored, but I still don’t know why this cloak has become so attached to me.”
    ‘“You’ve previously told me how you came to possess it, though you kept your story shorter than it needed to be,” said Cirathorn, settling back slightly. “Perhaps you could tell your story in full. We have no end of time to listen.”
    Relieved that things seemed to be going his way, Teldin did exactly that. It took forever to get the story out, and sometimes he went back to correct something he’d said earlier, but in time he had brought everyone up to the moment when he walked up to the sentinel at the embassy. He decided to give them all the details on his cloak and what it could do, down to its color-changing habits, though he demonstrated only the cloak’s power to change its size and turn into a sort of necklace – which explained the confusion in the old tales, Cirathorn said aloud. Teldin left out only the details of the past year that he felt had nothing to do with the cloak, the confused elements of his personal life since the evening when his farm had burned and his life was thrust into chaos. Once he asked for water, and the admiral merely clapped his hands for an elf to hurry away to get it.
    Teldin had no idea of how long he had spoken, but his voice was cracked and hoarse by the time he had finished. If I have to do this again, Teldin thought, I’ll have to hire someone to write it all down so I can just give the questioners the notes.
    None of the elves left the room during his story. Many had not even touched their food. When it became apparent that Teldin was done, Cirathorn stroked his bare chin, staring through Teldin as if he were not really there.
    “The cloak may have its own agenda,” said the admiral. “I do not believe it is intelligent, but it is likely to be responding to certain commands cast into it at its creation. The cloak probably stays