The Yellow silk

CHAPTER 2

Joing off with the man in the red tunic was a risk. Li clenched his teeth as the door of the stinking tavern slammed shut behind them. That had been his intent though, hadn't it? Find a dockside tavern and use one of the locals to locate Brin. The information he had obtained through haunting the wharves of Telflamm had been enough to suggest such a strategy would be the quickest and least obtrusive means of finding the hin-man. He could feel that he was close now-anticipation was a knife twisting in his gut. Maybe he should have waited for daybreak. Maybe he should have found a more reputable guide.

The short, hairy singer's pathetic look of warning had been an insult. Li didn't need to be warned. The man in the red tunic would most likely try to rob him. But to be so close to Brin… sometimes it was necessary to walk with the wolf when you were stalking the tiger.

Out in the yard, the corpse was still hanging from the tree. The man in the red tunic gave it a lingering gaze as they passed then glanced briefly at Li. The Shou pressed his lips together and said nothing. The man wouldn't let the silence rest. "I'm Lander," he said.

"Kuang Li Chien."

"So what's your business with Brin? Why are you looking for him?"

Li gave Lander a thin look. "It is a thing between Brin and me."

"Brin doesn't like being bothered. Just to warn you."

"Thank you for the warning, but what Brin likes or does not like is of little concern to me," Li said bluntly.

His guide shrugged.

They walked on. The falling snow was forming a thick blanket on the ground and made Lander's torch hiss threateningly. Apparently used to such miserable wet and cold weather, Lander tramped ahead, ignoring the layer of snow that built up on his head and shoulders. He began to talk, filling the snow-muffled silence with pointless prattle. Questions about Li's arrival in Span-deliyon. Comments on the quality of ale at the Wench's Ease. Biting remarks about the hairy singer, Tycho-it seemed the thug and the singer didn't get along. That was little surprise. Based on his own brief experience with Tycho, Li didn't much care for him either. He only half-listened to what Lander was saying, though. The man had a gravelly, clipped voice that turned every word into a rough grunt, and following his babble closely would have taken most of his concentration. As it was, his concentration was already focused on peering through the thick curtain of snow and trying to keep track of their surroundings.

It wasn't easy and the glare of torchlight on the falling snow only made it worse. The street that they followed was narrow and twisting, clearly not the same route that he had taken to the tavern from the docks, though it had seemed when they left the Wench's Ease that they were headed back in that direction. Still, they should surely have passed close to the water once more by now. If they were following a reasonably straight route. Li fixed his gaze on a particularly crooked doorway. "When I said I was looking for Brin," he said, choosing his words carefully, "the people in the tavern were afraid. Is Brin dangerous?"

An extended commentary on winter weather interrupted, Lander blinked. "Yes," he said after a moment.

That was no surprise, Li thought. By all accounts, the hin had been a scourge as a pirate. "Dangerous enough that even the mention of his name is frightening?"

Lander shrugged. Snow fell from his shoulders. "Brin controls this part of the docks. He's a bad man to cross. Someone goes looking for Brin, they're looking for trouble."

"And yet," commented Li, "you would anger him by robbing someone who is looking for him."

Lander's pace faltered, but not by much.

"We've come this way before," Li said.

"It's the snow," grunted his guide. "It's confusing if you're not used to it."

"I have walked in snow before." He paused then added, "The reward I mentioned is easier earned than taken." He gave his dao a meaningful rattle in its scabbard. Lander glanced down at it once and then looked away. He said nothing more.

Neither did Li. The Shou allowed himself a slight smile of triumph. If things went so easily with Brin, he would be well pleased.

The first hint that his warning had perhaps not been as successful as he thought came in the form of a sudden sound in the darkness, the abrupt crunch of a foot on old snow. Quick as a thought, Lander was whirling on him almost before Li had a chance to register the sound or the four figures that came rushing out of the shadows on three sides-the men Lander had been sitting with in the tavern. Li drew a sharp breath. Lander's silence hadn't been shock, he realized. He had been listening for his allies!

The men wasted no words on threats. Lander was closest and he swung his torch like a mace straight at Li, the flame of it guttering blue with the force of the blow. If he had been expecting Li, his blade not drawn, to jump back, however, he had guessed wrong.

Li stepped into the arc of the torch and swept up his sheathed dao to turn Lander's swing. His right hand jabbed forward underneath, stiff fingers hitting Lander just below his ribs. The thug choked, doubled over, and staggered away. In the wild light of the swinging torch, Li stepped back, let his pack fall to the ground, wrapped his hand around the grip of his dao, and drew the weapon in a swift, smooth motion.

Two of his attackers wavered, startled by this sudden whirlwind of action. Li slashed at a third in a threadbare coat, driving him back a step. "Damn it, Serg, hold your ground!" Lander croaked in warning. "Nico, watch the saber!"

The fourth attacker managed to get his own sword up. Blades clashed, the lighter western sword skittering under the wide, heavy dao, but still stopping it. Li lashed out with his empty scabbard, cracking the stiff wood into Nico's side. The blow would do no more than sting, but it was enough of a distraction to force the man's guard to slip; his stance wavered. Li surged forward and thrust him away into a snowdrift. The man in the threadbare coat- Serg-was advancing again. With a snap of his wrist, Li flung his scabbard at him. Serg brushed it aside with his weapon, a stout club, but looked up to find Li whirling at him. He flinched and raised his club to meet the dao. Li just dropped and knocked his feet out from under him with a leg sweep.

"All at once!" cursed Lander. The thug was upright again. The torch had been planted in the snow and Lander had a sword out, a thin, fast blade. "Ovel, Bor-get in there!" He began to close in cautiously himself.

At least he wasn't a rearguard leader. The two attackers who had been hanging back glanced at each other and stepped forward as well. Nico was staggering out of the snowdrift. Serg was slowly climbing to his feet. They still had him very nearly surrounded. Li drew a deep breath and stepped into the clear space between them, dao at the ready. "I think Brin will be angry if you stop me," he said. "I have come a long way to meet him."

Lander smiled like a wolf. "Now, here's the thing. If Brin really wanted to meet you, you'd know where to find him. You wouldn't need to be asking for directions in places like the Wench's Ease. I don't think he's going to be angry if he never sees you."

"You presume to know what Brin wants?"

"As it happens," said Lander, "I work for Brin. I do know what he wants. And he doesn't want to see every blood-mad lunatic who comes looking for revenge." Li's breath hissed and Lander's smile grew wider. "If you're smart, you'll give us everything you've got, get out of Spandeliyon, and forget Brin. What did he do to you? Kill someone?"

"Brin?" Li replied. "No."

This was no time to fight. He spun sharply. The men who had stayed back were Lander's weakest. Li threw himself at them with a vicious scream, dao slicing through the falling snow. Sure enough, the men's nerve broke and they scrambled aside. Li hurtled between them to freedom — and a snowdrift. Suddenly snow that had been barely above his ankles reached almost to his knees as his weight broke through the icy crust that fresh snow had hidden. Legs trapped, body still moving, Li fell flat. Ice crystals scraped against his face. Snow packed into his mouth and nose. Before he could do more than haul himself half-upright, a heavy mass slammed into him, forcing him back down into the snow. A club cracked against his right forearm and again, numbing it so that someone could seize his hand and wrench away his dao. Other hands slapped off his cap; the club came down across the back of his head in an explosion of pain. More pain came after. The weight-someone's body-rolled off his back and blows began to rain down on him, knocking him out of the snowdrift and tumbling him across the ground. Lander and his men were laughing and spitting insults at him. Li tried to shield himself, to roll back to his feet, but all that earned him were more blows. The end of a club jammed hard into his ribs. A fist slammed across his face. The snow that clung to him dulled some of the pain, but Li could taste blood on his lips.

"Hey!" Suddenly there was a cry out of the snow and a new figure moved into the circle of torchlight. Through eyes already swelling shut, Li caught a brief glimpse of a tough-looking woman in some kind of uniform, an emblem or crest bright on her coat. "What's this-oh." Lander spat something at her, but Li caught only "… Brin's business." He flicked her a coin. The woman nodded and faded back into the shadows.

"No… help…" Li reached out for her. A foot came down hard on his hand. He looked up into Lander's face just as the thug's other foot swung forward and kicked him in the head.

Darkness fell on him. He was dimly aware of a tugging sensation and the cold touch of snow on his limbs. He was being stripped, just like the corpse hanging outside the Wench's Ease. He struggled again. Or at least he thought he did. Nothing seemed to happen. Comments reached him from a distance. "This was his reward?" He heard the clinking of coins. "That's it?"

A curse. "Check his pack." More cursing. "Never mind, his things will fetch some more coin." A kick rolled Li over. The press of cold snow against his bare belly forced a moan out of him and made him curl up. One of Lander's men must have thought it was a sign of recovery. Li received another kick.

"Dump him in the alley. They'll find him in spring. This has been a good night's work." Lander laughed, his voice, punctuated by the hiss and click of a sword being returned to its scabbard. A sword-or his dao. Li's mouth worked in protest, but nothing came out. Hands grabbed him. His legs brushed through snow as he was dragged across the ground and thrown down. His head hit a wall, lighting the darkness with pain.

That light faded fast. No, he thought, not now. Not after so long, not when I'm so close…Lander's laughter faded.

Hot anger stirred. Li forced himself up and began to crawl after the sound. Or at least he thought he did. In the alley, snow settled on his body.

"Olore," called Tycho as he stepped out through the door of the Wench's Ease. "On the morrow!" Muire didn't even look up, just gave a vague grunt of farewell. Tycho didn't bother trying to coax anything more out of her. The night had been a failure. In spite of his best efforts, the crowd had never really recovered after the Shou's visit. Customers had finished their drinks and quickly left, their spirits done in. Only a couple of hours after the Shou's departure, the crowd had thinned down to those few patrons who had no need of music to encourage their drinking. Tycho had called himself finished and Muire had handed over his night's pay with a pained expression on her face. Two silver Sembian ravens and eight pennies.

Tycho looked up at the night sky. Snow was still falling, oblivious to the evening's events. In fact, enough had fallen to lay a good handspan on the ground. The churned ground of the yard was almost perfectly smooth now. Ardo's body was gone, he hoped taken by someone who would see it properly laid to rest. He hoped. There were some very desperate people on the dockside of Span — deliyon and there were rumors of necromancers and evil priests who would pay good coin for an unblessed body.

On another night, he might have walked in the dark. Rumored necromancers aside, the dockside streets held no fear for him. He knew them well. Tonight, though, the fresh snow would make footing treacherous. He checked the flap of leather that protected his strilling and reached into a pouch to extract a coin. He snorted when his fingers pulled up one of the silver ravens. Maybe it was a good sign. Focusing his concentration, he sang a few rippling words.

The coin shimmered and began to glow with the cool, unwavering light of magic. Tugging on his mitten and holding the shining coin carefully, Tycho began to make his way home.

When he had first left Spandeliyon, he had never thought he would be coming back. Had never thought that he'd have to suffer through another winter of snow and sea storms. He had pictured himself traveling with the seasons, spending the winter months in Amn or Tethyr or maybe even Calimshan then moving back north to pass summers in great northern cities such as glittering Waterdeep. Of course even through seven years of travel, he had never made it farther south than the Vilhon Reach or farther west than Cormyr. He had never visited Water-deep either, but he had seen cities enough to appreciate that each glittered in its own way. Except possibly for Spandeliyon.

He had, at least, spent winters in far more comfortable locations, singing songs and spinning tales in taverns much grander than the Wench's Ease. And most of the time he had walked out of them at the end of the night with more than two silver coins and a scant handful of pennies.

Seven years away and two years back. He was lucky he hadn't angered too many people when he left. Tycho turned off the street and cut down a narrow shortcut between two buildings. Too bad he hadn't kept more of the coin he had made then. Unfortunately, the life of a wandering bard wasn't one that tended to encourage saving coin. He'd found that out the hard way. He and his mentor both He was just stepping out into the next street when his foot went down into a snowdrift and hit something underneath. Something soft. Something that let out a quiet moan.

Tycho jumped back so fast that he landed on his backside in the snow, strilling jangling at the impact. His enchanted coin went flying from his grasp and up into the air. For a moment, light splashed around the alley, and then the coin plunged into the snow as well, choking off all but a dim glow. In that faint half-light, Tycho stared at the snowdrift. No, not a snow drift, he realized. A person buried by the falling snow. And if he had been lying there long enough to have snow piled that deep on top of him… Tycho scrambled across the alley to the glow that marked his coin and pulled it free. Clamping the cold metal between his teeth, he began shoveling with his hands at the snow-covered figure.

He found an arm and a hand-a man's hand-first, the naked flesh pale with cold. Almost miraculously, the fingers clenched as he touched them. They hadn't frozen and there was no sign of frostbite. "That's good," he mumbled past the coin in his mouth. "Hold on, friend, I'll have you out in a minute." He moved up the arm to the shoulder and head, scooping away snow.

The face that emerged was Shou. Tycho's hands stopped and he sat back. Kuang Li Chien-not that there were any other Shou in Spandeliyon. He'd taken a beating. Snow and blood clung to his face in icy clumps. It looked like Tycho's suspicions of Lander and his men had been correct.

Except that Li Chien was still alive. Tycho couldn't have said how. Some kind of magic, maybe. Sheer luck more likely. Lander must have left him here in the alley, expecting him to die. Tycho blew out his breath slowly. He was almost tempted to leave the Shou as well. His behavior at the Wench's Ease had been more than insulting. He hadn't just declined Tycho's attempts to warn him first about Brin then about Lander-he had all but thrown them back in his face.

Li Chien had brought this on himself, Tycho thought. Why should I give him any help now? I should get up, walk away…

"Ah, bind me," the bard muttered. Lander left people in alleys. He wasn't Lander. He leaned forward again and began digging into the snow once more.

As more of the Shou's body came into view, Tycho clenched his jaw. Li Chien was in worse shape than he had thought. He had been stripped of everything but his smallclothes-unless there was some magic talisman hidden down there, it was pure luck that had kept him alive. Most of his torso was covered with the faint beginnings of some very large bruises. Two fingers on one hand were bent and probably broken. The snow was most likely the only thing keeping them from swelling. Lander and his men had beaten him badly. "Bitch Queen's mercy, what did you do to get them that angry?" Tycho wondered aloud. He hauled Li Chien into something of a sitting position and managed to flop him over his shoulder, wincing as the Shou's arms hit the strilling slung on his back. Another moan escaped Li Chien's cold lips. Tycho snorted.

"You say you want a song now? Great time to change your mind. It's going to have to wait." Tycho got his feet under himself and, with a tremendous groan, stood up. Li Chien was a dead weight balanced precariously on his shoulder. Every step was a challenge, the Shou's weight and the deep snow combining to keep him off balance and staggering. In spite of the cold, Tycho was soon dripping with sweat. His legs and back were burning. More than once, he almost swallowed the glowing coin as he fought to keep it from falling out of his teeth; eventually, he simply spat it out and held it clenched in one mittened fist, lighting his way with a thin sliver of light cast between thumb and fingers.

Home was in a building on Bakers Way. It was only one street over, but it seemed like the farthest distance Tycho had ever walked. By the time he kicked open the outer door of the building, he was shaking with exhaustion. The narrow stairs that led up to the second floor and his rooms were almost a blessing; he was able to brace himself against the outer wall as he lifted one foot then the other, forcing himself up the stairs. "Veseene!" he croaked. "Veseene! Help! Open the door!"

He was almost at the top of the stairs before he heard the squeal of a bolt being drawn back. In the little hallway above, a door opened-just a crack at first then wide. A frail old woman stood in the doorway, faded blue eyes as wide as the door itself, a night robe wrapped around her thin body. She stretched out trembling arms as Tycho stumbled up the last few steps. He shook his head at the offer. "Get blankets," he gasped, "and stir the fire up!"

Veseene nodded and stood aside as he weaved through the door and quickly shut it behind him. "What happened? Who is this?" Her voice was a thin, wet rasp, like bubbles of air rising out of mud. Or through the wet phlegm that choked her throat. She bent-awkwardly-and looked at LiChien'sface."AShou!"

"He came into the Wench's Ease looking for Brin," Tycho told her. "And left with Lander." He groaned as he sank down to his knees before the little fireplace that heated their rooms. Veseene didn't ask for any further explanation. Time might have taken its toll on her body, but her mind was still quick. She stepped over to the low couch that was her bed and stripped off the blankets, spreading them out on the ground between Tycho and the fireplace.

Even that simple action was almost beyond her. Tycho watched her shaking hands twist and pull at the blankets, clenched fingers betraying her. He said nothing. When the blankets were spread enough to cradle the Shou's body, he laid Li Chien out with a grateful grunt of relief. Veseene was already on her feet and trying to wrestle a stout chunk of oak onto the carefully banked embers of the fireplace. Tycho jumped up. "Let me do that," he said, taking the wood from her. She gave it up almost gratefully. In return, Tycho passed her the glowing coin. "The spell should last a few minutes more. Can you look at him? I think he's hurt bad."

As Veseene lowered herself to kneel beside the unconscious Shou, Tycho shook off his mittens and set to work on the banked fire with a rusty poker and more chunks of wood until flames were leaping. Behind him, Veseene ran fingers over Li Chien, occasionally hissing and cursing under her breath. "It's a miracle he isn't frozen solid!" she said in wonder.

"I know. He was buried when I found him." Tycho turned around and stripped off his coat and strilling before stepping over Li Chien's body and kneeling across from Veseene. "How is he? "

"Very bad. Broken fingers." Veseene pressed against the unconscious man's chest. His flesh sank in with a distinct crunch. "And ribs." Her other hand moved down to his abdomen and tapped. The sound it made was hard and hollow; here the flesh didn't give at all. Veseene shook her head. "Bleeding inside. Touch his neck. Feel for the beat of his heart."

There was no question of Veseene doing that herself. Her hands shook too badly. Tycho flexed his own fingers and pressed the tips against the man's neck just under his jaw. The Shou's skin seemed even colder now. He frowned and shifted his fingers. Nothing. There was no pulse. He bit his lip and bent down and put his ear against Li Chien's naked chest, trying to focus past the snap and pop of the fire. There… the sound of it might be faint and slow, but Li Chien's heart was still beating. Barely. He glanced up at Veseene. She nodded. Tycho swallowed and sat back then held out his hands, palms down. Drawing a deep breath, he reached deep into himself and pulled up magic.

The spell that lent light to the coin had been a simple one. The spell he sang now was more complex and entirely different, soft and almost wordless. Anyone who had heard his raucous songs at the Ease tonight probably wouldn't have even recognized him as the same singer. Light was a simple thing to invoke. Healing was much harder. As the magic took shape, Tycho bent it to his will, visualizing it as a warmth pouring out of his hands and into Li Chien's battered body. He spread his fingers out and in his imagination the healing power wove itself around the worst of the Shou's injuries. The bleeding in his abdomen stopped. The cracked ends in his ribs realigned and knit themselves back together. His broken fingers straightened. Some little magic trickled into the bruises that covered him, but more settled into his very blood, tracing a path of gentle heat back to his slow, cold heart and prodding it back to Li Chien's eyes snapped open. His body bucked, and he sucked in air with such a violent gasp that Tycho yelped and jumped away. Song and magic vanished. "Bind and tar me!" he cursed. Li Chien was thrashing around in a delirium. Now that he had air in his lungs, he was screaming, too, a babble of Shou too fast and slurred for Tycho to follow-except for two words repeated in the shrieks.

"Yu maol Yu mao!"

Hands and feet lashed out in unconscious rage. Ve-seene scrambled back as well. The sudden movement set her off on a fit of choking and coughing. Heedless of the man's recently healed injuries, Tycho threw himself across him. The Shou was substantially taller than he and stronger, too, but Tycho managed to straddle him and pin his arms. "Easy!" he shouted. "Easy, you're with friends." Li Chien just kept raving and struggling. Tycho gritted his teeth and repeated himself in Shou. That seemed to have more effect and Li Chien slowly calmed down and relaxed-though not before there was a pounding on the floor from the rooms beneath them. Tycho kicked his snow-soggy boot against the floor in ill-tempered response. "Oh, quiet down yourselves!" He rolled off Li Chien and wiped his face. "Aye-ya. What was that about? Are you all right, Veseene?"

Veseene had crept back to Li Chien's side and was checking him over. She nodded. "I'm fine. He was just delirious. Don't worry." She poked at his abdomen and ribs again. There was no crunching sound when she pressed on his chest and his abdomen was relaxed and soft. Still, Li Chien's body was blotched with big bruises. Many even looked worse than they had before. Tycho grimaced.

"The healing wasn't enough."

"No," Veseene corrected him. "It was just enough." She ran her trembling hands over Li Chien's legs and arms. "You healed the worst. His bruises are fading. He'll be sore in the morning, but he'll be alive." She reached out with one hand and patted Tycho's arm. "You were never much good at healing. Don't worry." Veseene turned back to Li Chien. She pointed a thin finger at an old rag bound high around the Shou's left arm. "A bandage? An old wound?"

Tycho shook his head and shrugged. "I don't know. I was looking at other things before." The rag, still wet with melted snow, was so dirty and worn that it almost blended in with his skin. If it was covering an old wound, whatever was underneath it might have been in bad condition before his healing, maybe even infected. The magic might have taken care of it-or perhaps not. He reached for the rag.

His fingers had barely brushed it before Li Chien gasped and stirred again, snapping his elbow up. Tycho swayed back, but the elbow caught him in the gut anyway. If Li Chien had been more aware, the blow might have really hurt. As it was, it was more of an unexpected shock. Tycho grunted then caught Li Chien's arm. "All right, calm down," he said in Shou. "I won't touch it." Whether the assurance did any good was hard to tell. Li Chien was already sagging back into unconsciousness. Tycho glanced up at Veseene. "What now?"

She pulled up an edge of the blanket and wrapped it over Li Chien. "Let him sleep," she advised. "Magic can accomplish great things, but a body's natural reactions still need to be indulged. Wrap him up and let him sleep by the fire. He'll be warm. We'll see how he is when he wakes."

Tycho followed her example, tucking the blankets around Li Chien and wrapping him snuggly. A folded shirt went under his head as a pillow. When they were finished, he went to the narrow cot where he slept and stripped off his own blankets. "You use these," he told Veseene.

"And what will you use?" the old woman asked stubbornly.

"I can sleep under my coat."

She snorted. "I could sleep under your coat just as well. I slept under coats and cloaks a thousand times while I was traveling!"

"You're not traveling anymore-and aren't blankets warmer than a coat?" Tycho steered Veseene over to her couch. "Besides, I need to stay awake for at least a while to tend the fire. I'll be fine."

Veseene grumbled, but finally gave up her protests. She settled down onto the couch and drew the blankets over herself. Tycho gave the fire a careful stir, heaping the coals up around the oak log, then he pulled his cot over closer to it and picked up his coat. The garment was still wet from his walk home. He grimaced and wrapped it around himself anyway before stretching out on the cot.

In the shadows, Veseene sighed. "Don't think about it, Veseene," Tycho said.

"I wish I could have done more. Once-"

"Once you could have healed him and sent him out dancing afterward." He turned his head and glanced at her. His mentor's eyes reflected the firelight. Her jaw was set and firm, but he knew that under the blankets her hands would be clasped tight, one around the other, as if that could prevent their shaking.

There were some things-some very few things-that magic couldn't heal.

There was a time, Tycho thought, when the voice of Veseene the Lark was known from coast to coast around the Sea of Fallen Stars. A time when her magic-the subtle spells of a bard rather than the pure power of a wizard or holy prayers of a priest-had enthralled taverns and festhalls and brought comfort to the common folk of towns and cities. A time, even in the fading days of her glory, when she had seen promise in the squeaking of a Spandeliyon dock rat and taken him for her apprentice, to travel with her and learn her songs and stories.

But no one, it turned out, had much use for a lark that could no longer fly.

Veseene closed her eyes and Tycho looked back to the fire. And Li Chien. The Shou's chest was rising and falling with the regular rhythm of sleep. Tycho drew a slow breath and let it out quietly. Gods bless us, I hope you appreciate my help this time, he thought, because Lander isn't going to. And if you're lucky, Brin will never even know you came looking for him.

"… fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty." Silver flashed in the candlelight as Giras counted. He looked up and blinked eyes still rheumy from having been woken in the middle of the night. "You're sure you don't want to part with that saber? I know someone who would pay very well for it."

"I'm keeping it." Lander swept a healthy pile of coins off Giras's counter and into his pouch. He picked up the Shou curved saber-back inside its sheath once more-and saluted the fence with it. "I've taken a fancy to it."

Giras shrugged. "Suit yourself. If you change your mind, though, bring it back. Just not so late next time."

"You sleep like you were an honest man, Giras."

Lander left the shop. The snow had stopped and the moon was peeking through the clouds, its light turning the fresh snow bright. Nico, Ovel, Bor, and Serg were waiting for him. They clustered around as soon as he appeared. "How much did you get?" Bor demanded.

"Fifty," lied Lander.

"Fifty?" Bor made a face. "That's only…" Lander saw his fingers move as he counted. "Ten each."

"Eight," Lander said. "Two of every ten to Brin." There were grumbles all around. Lander swept his men with a hard glare. "You'd rather get nothing? Or maybe you want to hold back on Brin and count your fingers when he's done with you?" He pulled coins out of his pouch and began distributing them.

"Hey!" complained Serg. "You kept the sword!"

"Is there a problem with that? "

Serg's anger faltered. "I could have used the coat," he whined.

"You can come back in the morning and buy it from Giras. I'm sure he'll give you a good price." Lander dropped the remaining coins back in his pouch and watched his men suspiciously count out their shares. "All there? Good. Go home. I'm going to see Brin. Anyone want to come with me?"

His men said their good-byes with unseemly haste and vanished into the night. Lander smiled grimly to himself and set off back down to dockside. Giras's shop was situated on the very edge of Spandeliyon's middle town. Not the quickest walk up from the dives of the dockside, but worth it whenever anything of value found its way into his hands. With access to a better class of customer, Giras was willing to pay a little more. Sometimes a lot more.

Lander considered the Shou's saber as he walked. Maybe he should have sold it. The hilt was nicely put together, with a fine grip of some coarse-grained leather he didn't recognize and bronze fittings carved with Shou characters. The scabbard matched it, fashioned from wood, brass, and the same coarse leather dyed red. The only problem was that it wasn't meant to be worn like a normal sword. He figured out how to clip it to his belt, but to draw it properly, he would have to carry it as the Shou had. He could figure out a way to fix that though. He buffed the hilt and nodded to himself. It was a nasty, heavy weapon. No, he'd keep it. For now, anyway.

Lander turned a corner onto a street very close to the waterfront and walked up to a long, low building. Painted along the wall and across the door was the sinuous body of an enormous eel. He went inside. In spite of the hour, there were still people around, though most of them were deep in drunken sleep. Those few who were awake glanced at Lander and then quickly turned back to their beer and whatever whispered conversations they were holding. Lander caught the eye of the bartender, a massive man who was as hairless as an egg, and raised his eyebrow. The bartender tilted his head ever so slightly toward the back of the festhall. Lander went that way. Off to one side, a room of gambling tables lay quiet for the night. Off to the other, a heavy curtain hid the way to a series of small rooms where more intimate pleasures could be had. Lander steered his way between the two, pushing aside another curtain to enter a narrow, dark passage.

The sound reached him first as he groped his way through the darkness. Someone was weeping in agony. Smell followed and Lander wrinkled his nose at the pungent barnyard stench. No matter how often that stink assaulted him, he could never get used to it. He gulped air, though, and forced the grimace from his face as his fingers touched rough wood. He stepped through a door to the wide alley behind the Eel and the pigsty Brin kept there.

Bitch Queen's mercy, most of the pigs were asleep. They made a great mass of quivering, snorting flesh in among the straw under the covered portion of the sty. The heat of their bodies kept the shelter comfortable even in the coldest weather; the snow on the roof was already melting in big, fat drops. The pigs hadn't had a chance yet to churn up what snow had fallen on the ground and the sty looked almost pretty. Lander knew better. He picked his way carefully, trying not to disturb the filth underneath.

To one side of the sty, there was a table with a lantern and a bench. Sitting astride the bench, his ankles bound together underneath it, was a man named Kiril. Lander knew him. He collected extortion coin for Brin from several shops on the east of dockside.

His right hand was tied around behind his back. His left was caught in a screw press. He was the one doing the weeping. Judging from the wet state of his hair and shoulders, he had been outside for some time.

Sitting cross-legged on the table beside the press was Brin. Barely three feet tall, the halfling might have been mistaken for a very slight child except for the pinched cruelty of his face. His mouth was narrow and harsh, and a patch covered his left eye socket. There were various tales of how Brin had lost that eye. Some said he put it out himself. Lander didn't believe that. He did, however, believe that Brin was fully capable of such a thing. "Brin," he said in greeting.

"Lander!" Brin's voice, rich and expressive, was a strange contrast to his face. No matter what was going on, he always seemed to be enjoying himself. Maybe that wasn't such a contrast after all. "Kiril, say hello to Lander." The man on the bench didn't respond. "I said, say hello!" Brin's tiny hand lashed out, swiping a pig switch across his prisoner's face. Kiril's head jerked around. For the first time, Lander caught a glimpse of his face in the lantern light. Both cheeks were streaked with fine, bloody cuts from the switch.

"Lander," he said in a quavering voice.

"Kiril." Lander took a step forward.

In the shadows beside the table, something stirred and snuffled. Lander froze as an enormous boar with wiry black hair and malignant yellow eyes turned around to face him. It looked at him with all the warmth of a feral cat, as if deciding whether to tolerate his presence or tear him up on the spot; great knife-sharp tusks curved up on either side of the boar's jaw. "Black Scratch," Lander said, barely able to keep distaste from his voice.

"Easy, Scratch." Brin's switch dipped down to tickle one of the boar's ragged ears. "Now, Kiril, I think you could learn from Lander. I ask him to do something for me and he does it. To the letter." Brin looked up at Lander. "I heard about the lynching. Good work."

Lander nodded. "I've got something else for you. Ran into someone tonight and took care of him for you." He walked up to the table and set down twelve silver coins. Brin's eye glanced over them.

"You had sixty off him or his goods. You probably told your men-what? Fifty?" Lander nodded again. Brin nudged the screw press, drawing another whimper from Kiril. "Did you catch that, Kiril? Lander might cheat his men, but he knows better than to cheat me. I get what's mine. Is that so hard to understand?"

"N-no, Brin," Kiril gulped.

"Are you going to try skimming from me again? " asked Brin. Kiril shook his head emphatically. "Good. I think that finishes our talk tonight." Brin stood up and heaved against the handle of the screw. Kiril let out a horrible scream that brought Black Scratch's ears pricking up and a flurry of alarm from the sleeping pigs in their shelter. "Sorry," apologized Brin, "I guess that was the wrong way."

He slapped the handle and sent the screw spinning up. As Kiril whimpered and held up a hand that was alternately red from the press and white from the night's cold, Brin hopped down and drew a sharp little knife, reaching under the bench to slash the cord that bound the man's feet. "Now get out of my sight," he spat. He drew back the pig switch.

Kiril didn't let it touch him. He was moving before the switch fell, leaping to his feet and stumbling away into the darkness, the back way out of the alley. Lander looked after him briefly. "What did he do?"

"Told a tailor and a cobbler that I wanted more coin and kept the extra for himself." Brin scooped clean snow off the bench and scrubbed his hands with it. The snow, Lander saw, came away flecked with red from dried blood. Black Scratch came out into the light and Brin finished wiping his hands on the boar's bristly coat. The huge pig acted as if it was nothing and began snuffling around. "Everything went well at the Wench's Ease?"

"I'll talk to Ardo's brother tomorrow. Boat or cash, Ton's debts will be covered, I think."

"And nobody caught on?"

Lander shrugged, trying to ignore Black Scratch. "Tycho figured it out. He didn't say anything to anyone, though."

"If he's smart, he won't. Sharp tack but sometimes too clever for himself." He climbed up onto the bench and reached for the coins on the tabletop. "Sixty silver. Pretty good. Who was he?"

"Just someone else looking for revenge. He couldn't have been in Spandeliyon too long-he just walked into the Wench's Ease and announced that he was looking for a former pirate." Brin's eyebrows shot up. Lander gave him a smile. "Then he named you. You could have driven your pigs through the Ease and no one would have noticed."

"You're kidding." Brin sat down on the bench, legs dangling over the edge. "Nobody is that-"

Black Scratch interrupted him by giving a loud grunt and butting hard against Lander's leg. The boar's weight sent him staggering. Lander gave the beast a hard glare, but when he looked up, it was to find Brin staring at him.

"Lander," asked the halfling, "what's that?" He pointed. Lander reached down. His hand encountered the Shou curved saber.

For a moment, his heart jumped. "It belonged to the man who came looking for you," he said cautiously. "You told me I could keep weapons that caught my eye."

"I remember. Let me see it!"

Lander struggled with the saber for a heartbeat before he got it undipped from his belt. He handed it to Brin, Black Scratch following his every move like a trained guard dog. Brin examined the weapon and its scabbard closely. "The man who was looking for me was a Shou?"

"Yeah."

"Did he give his name?" His voice was sharp as a knife edge.

Lander's heart jumped again. "Kang-no, Kuang. Kuang Li Chien." The man's words came back to him. And yet you would anger Brin by robbing someone who is looking for him. He swallowed hard. "Brin, you said you wanted me to take care of anyone who came looking for you without an invitation!"

"I know what I said," Brin snapped. "What happened to theShou?"

"I… my men and I took him for a walk. He put up a fight. We left him in an alley by Gold Lane."

"Go and get him. Bring him here." Brin rubbed his face with his free hand.

"Brin…" Lander hesitated then said, "he's probably dead by now."

Brin glanced up. There was anger in his eye. "Then bring me his body! I want to see him!" He thrust the saber back at him.

Lander snatched it and ran, following in Kiril's tracks. Filth from Brin's pigs splattered up around his boots. He ignored it. Out of the sty, out of the alley, twisting through the narrow gap that led back onto the street. Images of Kiril's mangled hand-of much worse things that he had seen Brin do to people who displeased him-kept popping into his mind. Lander tried to shove them away, concentrating instead on taking the shortest possible route back to Gold Lane. The snow dragged at his legs, making running hard. He didn't slow down.

At least Brin didn't need the Shou alive!

His legs were like lead and his throat and lungs raw from gulping cold air by the time he reached Gold Lane and slid to a stop at the mouth of the alley. There was a clear mound of snow in the shadows. Lander dropped the saber and plunged his arms into the snow, digging frantically for the Shou's frozen body. It only took a moment before he rocked back on his heels in dismay.

There was no body under the snow. He swung around and scanned the moonlit street. Whether Kuang Li Chien had managed to crawl away from his doom or some bodys-natcher had staggered off with his corpse, there was no sign of it now. His own footsteps were the only things marring the smooth surface of the snow.

Lander drew a shuddering breath and wondered how long he could stay out before he had to go back and face Brin.