The Yellow silk

CHAPTER 8

The sun shone bright in a clear, pale sky. In the small formal garden of the family compound, Kuang Yu Chien's beaming face was almost as bright.

"Yu Mao," he said.

Li watched his brother step forward, stiff and dignified, trying his best to imitate their elders. Heir to the workshops and fortune of Kuang, how could he do any less? Li tried his best to remain calm himself. It wasn't easy with a feeling like a hundred bees buzzing through his belly. In two years he would stand where Yu Mao did now. For the second son of Kuang, he knew, the ceremony would be less impressive, but what did that matter at a moment like this?

Yu Mao bowed low before their father, holding himself in the submissive posture for exactly the length of time that propriety demanded, no more, no less. Li could have counted the time, too-he had watched Yu Mao practicing for hours. There was so much that the future head of the family needed to know, so many small details of etiquette, so many little rituals. Some day Yu Mao would be one of the most important men of Keelung, negotiating with traders and Imperial officials for the fine fabric of the silk families. Inscrutable, unflappable. Li had stood behind Yu Mao and peered through a screen watching Yu Chien negotiate, and on those occasions, their father was like some kind of wondrous automaton, flawless in his self-control.

Not today. The only rain of the fine summer afternoon stood out on Yu Chien's cheeks. Even so, his voice was strong and easy. "Blessings upon you, my son."

"Blessings on you, honored father." Yu Mao's voice was already deep. The formal words of the ceremony rolled out of him like cartwheels. "May your years be as numerous as leaves on a tree. May each of them give you memories as sweet as a peach."

"Leaves fall in winter and new buds come forth each spring. Every peach must ripen. Every boy must grow into a man." Yu Chien's smile quivered slightly with emotion as, for the first time, he bowed to Yu Mao. It was really little more than a nod, Li knew, but it might just as well have been the humblest abasement. "Mayjyowryears be as numerous as leaves on a tree. May each of them give you memories as sweet as a peach." Yu Chien straightened. "Now, my son, take up the tools of a man."

He tapped his thumb and second finger together. To the left of his chair and standing beside Mother, Great-Aunt Ya made a more vigorous gesture and from behind a screen of bamboo stepped Cousin Mei, dressed all in red. Li caught his breath. She looked beautiful, more than a suitable match for the next patriarch of the Kuang. Yu Mao, however, seemed more interested in the red-stained case that she carried. Mei knelt before him and opened it. Resting on silk within was the most beautiful pair of butterfly swords Li had ever seen-easily as beautiful as Cousin Mei. They were adult weapons, heavier and much keener than a child's training blades. Yu Mao removed them carefully, inspected them, and bowed twice-once to his future wife and once, more deeply, to his father. "I will make the ancestors of Kuang proud," he promised. He bowed again and sunlight flashed on the butterfly swords…

… just as lantern light flashed on the cheap brass mesh that restrained the considerable bosom of the woman who walked boldly up to Li. "Olore, elf-man," she said with naked interest, "have you had a long voyage?" She leaned over so the shiny mesh shifted and exposed more of the shadowed chasm of her cleavage. "Maybe you're feeling a little lonely."

Li was saved from having to respond by the sudden appearance of an older woman, rouge and powder thick on her face. The bawd seized the other woman's arm and hauled her roughly back toward one of the curtains at the rear of the Eel. Li didn't quite catch the words she muttered, but their tone implied that an interest in making love to an elf was barely a step above perversion. He didn't bother trying to correct their misperceptions regarding his race. Clearly there were times when it was good to be thought of as an elf. Not many, though, not around the dark cave of the Eel. The woman in brass was the only denizen of the tavern who seemed interested in more than beating the lights out of the "elf-blood" who had wandered into their midst. It made the skin on his neck crawl, but he turned around and put his back to the noisy room, standing shoulder to shoulder with Tycho.

"If he's not here," the short bard was asking a big, bald bartender, "where is he? This is important."

The bartender just shrugged. "Always is when Black Scratch might be waiting for you, isn't it?"

Tycho flushed. "When will Brin be back?"

"Do I look like a bloody appointment book?" the bartender growled. "Brin doesn't tell me his comings and goings. He tells me how much to charge for ale and when to water it down." He plunked two mugs on the counter. "Buy yourself a couple and wait for him."

Tycho sighed. "Why not? Nothing better to do." Li winced and nudged him.

"We can leave and come back again," he said in Shou. "Why don't we go to the Wench's Ease and wait there?"

"You haven't had enough of tramping around in the cold?" Tycho replied.

"I'm afraid that if we stay here, I'll catch some kind of disease." Li's first sight of the Eel had convinced him that he had made the right choice at the docks. Filthy, dark and stinking, foul with thick smokes and loud with the shouts of customers already deep in their cups, Brin's establishment had the feel of a place teetering on the brink of desperation. The moment he and Tycho had walked through the door in search of Brin, Li had wanted to turn around and walk out again. The Wench's Ease was smelly, smoky, and loud as well, but at least there had been a lightness of spirit about it, a sense that its patrons were there to enjoy rather than lose themselves. "Can we go?"

Tycho crinkled his nose. "I want to get this over with. Let Brin go after Jacerryl and the Hooded if he wants his beljurils back. If you still want to talk to Brin about your brother, you should do that now, too. If Brin and the Hooded start a war, there's no telling when or if you'll get another chance."

The muscle along Li's jaw tightened. "I suppose not," he said, "but nothing will happen until we talk to him." He shuddered as angry shouts erupted from behind the other curtain at the tavern's rear, the one Tycho had said hid gambling tables. "You said you've got until tomorrow."

Tycho turned up his hands in defeat. "Water the beer for someone else," he told the bartender in Common. "We're going. If you see Brin, tell him I was looking for him."

"Didn't I say I'm not an appointment book?" The bartender flicked a rag at them. "Get your elf-blood friend out of here."

The air outside was chill and damp, but sweet. Li breathed it in gratefully as Tycho led him through the shadowed streets toward the Wench's Ease. The other man gave him a sideways glance. "You traveled the length of the Golden Way and you didn't see worse places than the Eel?"

"I saw them," said Li. "I didn't enjoy them. There was an oasis deep in the Endless Wastes where the natives refuse to allow any permanent buildings and the only tavern was a kind of vast tent that served ale brewed from millet in enormous goatskin bags. The tent walls were so thick with decades of greasy soot from braziers that they could have stood on their own. The women of the area seemed addicted to millet ale and to playing a game that involved knives and carved rune-bones."

"What did the men do?" Tycho asked curiously.

"Stayed away from the women. They spent most of their time out raiding and extorting tribute from caravans."

"What else did you see along the way?"

"A lot of grass." Li dredged his memory to come up with things that might be more interesting. "Ruins. Burial mounds so ancient no one knows who raised them. A pillar of smoke in the distance that the caravan masters said was likely the cook fires from a Tuigan wedding feast. A great tower that they hustled us past in the dead of night because legend said an ancient mage lived there and would enslave anyone he saw by daylight. Another night we heard something screaming in the distance, a sound like nothing any of us had ever heard."

A smile spread across Tycho's face. "No one went to see what it was?" Li shook his head. "I would have."

Li shook his head again. "You don't go chasing after strange sounds in the night along the Golden Way. You stay by your fire and defend yourself against what comes."

"If you don't chase things down, how do you know when the journey is interesting? All you'd see is the road."

"Many people would say that's enough. That, your destination, and your home again at the end."

Tycho snorted. Li looked at him and raised an eyebrow, but Tycho said nothing else. He was looking down at the ground, scowling as he walked. "You've traveled," Li said. "You know what I mean."

"I've been all around the Sea of Fallen Stars. The road is my home. A bard who doesn't travel is just waiting by the fire to see what comes of the night. I-" He cut himself off. Li gave him a long look, but Tycho just drew a breath and glanced up, the scowl falling away from his face to be replaced by his usual twisted smile. "A bard needs new stories no matter how he gets them, right? New songs come where you learn them; Veseene told me that herself. Lots of people visit Spandeliyon from all over. Who needs to go on the road when the road comes to you?"

Li's eyes narrowed. "In Keelung," he said, "when the silk families wear strangely colored clothes and declare it a new fashion, you know that a vat of dye went bad. You're trying to put a good face on a bad problem, Tycho."

The bard sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He was quiet for a moment then said, "Li, if this were happening to me anywhere else, I'd already be on the road to a new city. Brin has a long reach, but not that long. I can't do that, though. I can't run away. I can't leave Veseene." He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment.

Li patted him on the back. "I understand. I'd rather not be in Spandeliyon either." Tycho snorted again, but in stifled humor this time, and gave a grim smile. Li hesitated then asked, "Tycho, what about the Hooded?"

They were just coming into the yard outside the Wench's Ease. Tycho stopped beside the tree there. "Forget about him, Li," he said sternly. "It's easier to go through Brin. Isn't one gang boss enough to worry about? Ask Brin about Yu Mao first. Maybe he'll know how the swords got into the Hooded's hands. A juggler in Westgate taught me a saying: When you've got five balls in the air, you don't need to set them on fire."

"What does that mean?"

Tycho reached up and slapped his cheek lightly. "Do one thing at a time. We don't need this situation to get any more complicated." He turned, walked across the yard, and pulled open the door of the Wench's Ease.

For a moment, it seemed like an errant gust of wind had caught him. The bard's hair flew up and the skirt of his coat belled out. There was, however, no wind; the night air was still. And yet Li felt the edge of the breeze as well, a cool breath that tickled his ears like a snatch of song. He blinked. It was a song and he could almost imagine that he heard Veseene's voice in it.

Don't come home; it isn't safe. Brin is looking for you and Li.

Suddenly song and wind were gone. Tycho's eyes were wide. Li sucked in a breath. "Tycho, what was that?" he asked.

"A spell," Tycho said in wonder. "A spell from Veseene. But that's impossible; she hasn't been able to cast a spell in years!"

"It seems she managed it. Why would she try, though?"

"Brin." His voice was tight with concern. "Brin must have gone to see her. And she doesn't know I've already seen him." He glanced down and Li followed his gaze. Tycho's foot was just past the threshold of the tavern's open door. "A spell triggered when I entered the Ease. Veseene knows I come here most nights, so she sent the spell to warn me when I walked in."

Li frowned. "Tycho, why would Brin be looking for you at all? He gave you until noon tomorrow."

"Maybe he found out something more about the beljurils." Tycho ground his teeth together and moved through the door. "Hoar's black glove, if Brin hurt Veseene "

Maybe it was because he had been so acutely aware of the different atmosphere at the Eel. Maybe it was because last time he had entered the Ease, it had been to raucous song. Either way, Li glanced up sharply as Tycho moved on and he got his first glimpse into the tavern. His hand shot out and grabbed Tycho's shoulder. Something was wrong. The patrons of the Ease were quiet. Very quiet. And not one of them was looking up at the newcomers or the open door. The entire tavern was on edge. "Careful!" he hissed in Shou. "This is an ambush!"

Tycho paused. His gaze swept the tavern and Li could tell he was coming to the same conclusion. The Shou braced the door open with his foot and slid his free hand down toward the Calishite scimitar he had taken from Giras the fence-and hesitated. If there was trouble, the long sword would be awkward to use in the crowded bar. He shifted his hand instead to Yu Mao's butterfly swords, freeing them from the rags he had wound around their blades.

Tycho's gaze came to rest on a man standing against the bar, a cloak around his shoulders in spite of the tavern's warmth. Li recognized him from the previous night-one of Lander's men. Behind the bar, behind Lander's man, the broad-hipped bartender gave Tycho a helpless look.

"I know him," Li breathed.

"He's Ovel. That's Nico." At the back of the tavern, another man had risen and was tapping on a backroom door. Heads were starting to turn at the tables as patrons gave Tycho and Li the same helpless look as the bartender. Are they really all so afraid of Brin, Li wondered. He began to reassess Tycho's dark tales. "Lander had four men last night. There's probably someone behind us to make sure we can't retreat," he observed. Tycho nodded, took a deep breath, and shrugged Li's hand off his shoulder.

"Try to relax," he said. "Remember, we want to see Brin as much as he seems to want to see us. This could all be fine."

"And if it's not?"

"Then we've got five balls in the air and they're all burning." Tycho stepped forward, smiling pleasantly. Li followed. Pulling the tavern door closed after himself felt like closing the door of a cage.

"Tycho!"

It was the last thing Li would have expected to hear at the moment-a happy shout. It came from outside. He twisted around and shoved the door open again. Tycho turned as well. A cloaked and hooded figure was trotting across the yard toward them. Behind her, Li glimpsed movement in the shadows. Lander's man. Tycho's choke of surprise, however, was directed to the cloaked figure.

"Laera?"

"Oh, Tycho!" Li caught a glimpse of pretty brown eyes and a sharp nose before Mard Dantakain's daughter threw herself at his friend. "I've been looking everywhere for you."

Li's eyes darted to the door at the back of the tavern, the one on which Nico had knocked. It was opening. "Tycho…" he hissed.

Tycho thrust the girl off of him. "Laera, this isn't a good time!"

"It's the perfect time." She stepped back and spread her cloak to reveal traveling garb-or at least a sheltered rich girl's idea of it. Clothes too heavy, boots not heavy enough, a satchel stuffed to overflowing. "Tycho, I want to be a traveler like you! I can't stand Spandeliyon anymore!"

Tycho blinked. "Bind me." He looked around quickly, tugged Laera's hood firmly over her head, and pointed her toward the bar. "Wait over there," he ordered. "That woman is Muire. She'll look after you."

"What?" Laera's voice was thin and confused. Li reinforced Tycho's words with a quick shove.

"Move, girl!" he ordered. She stumbled away. Li glanced at Tycho. "Did your juggler friend have advice for dealing with six burning balls?" Tycho shook his head. The bard's expression was tight. Li looked past him. At the back of the tavern, men were moving out of the backroom door. Men, a pig-and a one-eyed hin.

For the first time, Li set eyes on the former pirate whose name had brought him to this port. Brin looked just as hard and unpleasant as all of the stories in Telflamm and all of Tycho's tales had made him out to be. The huge boar that walked behind him, brushing aside the patrons who were too slow to get out of the way, could only be Black Scratch. Lander stood behind the pig, and behind Lander stood the last of his four men. Li clenched his jaw. His dao hung at Lander's side and the thug's man was wearing his waitao!

His hand gripped the butterfly swords tightly. Tycho gave a little shake of his head. "Words first," he murmured.

"What if words fail?"

"Don't stand between me and the door." Tycho took a deep breath, smiled, and started walking.

"Best face, sharp thoughts," Tycho murmured to himself as he stepped forward. No tricks, no games. This wasn't playing around. This was for real. Magic tugged on his thoughts like water just out of a thirsty man's reach. There was no question of a spell, though, he knew. Brin wouldn't give him even the fraction of a heartbeat it would take to cast one. "You're on your own, boy."

And Li was right. Something was up. Black Scratch's mad, red eyes were on him and the smell of the beast was thick on the air. He ignored him. Li, Laera, Muire- Veseene. He put them all out of his mind and focused on Brin. "Olore," he said pleasantly. "You know, I've just been down at the Eel looking for you, Brin. I wouldn't have expected to find you here."

"It's a night for the unexpected." Brin's eye shifted past him for a moment to settle on Li. Tycho fought the urge to gesture for the Shou to back down a bit. Instead he kept his arms loose, his posture confident. Lander, Nico, and Serg stepped out and began to move around between the tables of the Ease. One of the tavern's patrons started to shift. Lander shoved him back into his chair. Tycho tensed.

"Listen, Brin," he said, "I have news on the beljurils. I know where they are. Jacerryl stole them from me." The halfling's gaze came back to him. Tycho smiled hopefully. "Why don't we step outside? I can tell you everything. I mean, you gave me until tomorrow and all, right? What I've got for you might not be exactly what you want to hear, but it's going to clear everything up." He spread his hands. "I don't know what all of this is about, but nothing has to get messy here."

"You're right. It doesn't." Brin nodded. Lander and his men began to close in. Li hissed. This time, Tycho did step back and put a hand on Li's arm. Black Scratch's eyes followed his gesture and the pig let out a sharp, angry snort. Tycho's hand came back up immediately. Brin grinned. "You both just come with us and it won't get messy. Here."

Tycho froze. On his left, Nico moved closer.

"Tycho!" At the bar, Laera stepped forward suddenly. Just as quickly, Ovel reached out and wrapped an arm around her, holding her back and snatching down her hood. Long brown hair tumbled free. Brin's eye widened slightly.

"Is that…?" His grin turned sharp and feral. "Tycho, you charmer! I think we've got another reason for you to behave yourself." He nodded and Ovel's arm tightened.

Laera stiffened, gasped, and screamed. Ovel's free hand reached under his cloak and drew out a short sword. Laera jerked, still screaming.

Tycho half-turned toward her.

Everyone moved at once.

Nico leaped at him. Tycho fell back, barely catching a flurry of action behind the bar as Muire snatched a hot mulling iron out of her brazier and thrust it hard into Ovel's back. Lander's man screeched louder than Laera and twisted away, his sword clattering from his hand to the floor. Tycho didn't have a chance to see more-Nico grabbed at him and he slid down to get away, staggering into Li as he did. The collision sent the Shou stumbling forward. Lander and Serg stepped in fast to seize him.

Except that Li's stumble somehow became instead a graceful lunge that put his fists hard into the thugs' guts. Lander grunted and staggered; Serg gasped and went reeling back, crashing into a couple of tables and sending ale flying.

Tycho would have stared in stunned awe if Nico hadn't reached down with both hands, grabbed the front of his coat, and dragged him to his feet. The bard seized the other man's forearms and slammed himself up and forward in a savage head butt that connected right under Nico's chin. His head snapped back. Tycho followed up with a fast knee to the crotch. Nico let go of him and dropped.

With Lander and his men suddenly in trouble, the crowd had found its courage as well. The Ease's patrons were surging to their feet, some diving to tackle Serg or Nico, some rushing to the aid of Muire and Laera. Ovel had found his feet again. He still had a grip on Laera as well, one hand tangled in her flowing hair. Keeping well below the level of the bar so that Muire couldn't reach him with her smoking iron, he was groping for his sword. Tycho caught a glimpse of his eyes as he saw the crowd coming at him. Any thought of threatening Laera forgotten, he let go of her and scrambled for his sword with both hands, only barely managing to grab it before the customers of the Ease could grab him. Twisting to his feet, Ovel swept the sword in short, dangerous arcs.

"Keep back!" he snarled.

The crowd-Muire at the head now-pressed as close as it could.

Tycho whirled around. "Li, we've-"

A tremendous, squealing trumpet cut him off as Black Scratch plunged into the fray. In the cramped confines of the tavern, the boar couldn't exactly charge, but with his massive weight behind him, a lumbering rush was enough. People scrambled to get out of the way of his tusks and hooves; someone fell and was simply trampled. Tycho dived across a table for safety. He dragged a knife out of a sheath at his belt-as if the little blade would do any good-but Black Scratch was headed straight for one target.

Li stared at the oncoming mass of bristles and tusks for only an instant before gathering himself and leaping high, grabbing for a wax-encrusted iron chandelier overhead and tucking his legs up tight.

Black Scratch passed completely under him, his weight and hooves suddenly a hindrance on the tavern's worn wood floor. Out of control, the pig careened through a tangle of chairs and tables and straight into the solid stone side of the Ease's fireplace. He staggered back and sat down like a drunk man waking in a strange place. Li pumped his legs, swung free of the chandelier, and landed lightly in an easy crouch. Metal scraped on metal as he drew the butterfly swords, a blade in each hand, one high, one low.

More bare steel combined with Black Scratch's charge was enough for the Ease's patrons. Shouting in fear, courage forgotten, many rushed for the door. A few stayed to menace Ovel, but suddenly most of the tavern was clear. Tycho scrambled back to his feet-and saw the lithe little figure that rolled out from under a table behind Li. "Watch out!" he shouted. Li spun around, still crouched, and slashed out with a sword. Brin, a dagger in his fist, just tumbled aside. And tumbled again as Li's second blade swept around. Again and again, a roll ahead of each flashing blow, forcing Li to spin around to keep up with him.

Focused on the halfling, the Shou didn't see Lander loom up behind him, a broken chair leg in his hand. Tycho sucked in breath and raised his hand to cast a spell.

Lander was faster. "'Ware magic!" he spat at Brin and changed his target. Suddenly the chair leg was hurtling through the air at Tycho. The wood cracked into his outstretched arm and numbness rippled from his wrist to his elbow. The spell died on Tycho's lips, vanishing into a yelp of pain. Lander's stealthy attack was spoiled as well, though; Li hissed and spun back into a defensive stance, both butterfly swords at the ready. Lander didn't let him rest. The thug wrenched out Li's own saber and sent it at him in a powerful backhanded blow. Li just barely rocked back out of the way.

Brin whirled and threw himself at Tycho.

A gasp of panic forced itself out of the bard. He fell back, knife raised. Brin's dagger slashed out. Tycho only just slid away from it. He lunged at Brin in the wake of the blow but caught nothing but air. The one-eyed halfling bent like a snake-a snake with arms and one steel fang-and just kept coming, dagger weaving and stabbing, forcing Tycho back. Behind him, Lander was bashing away at Li with ugly, brutal slashes. The Shou saber clearly wasn't his weapon of choice, but elegance wasn't something Lander was known for. An ugly blow still hurt. Li was catching some of the blows with the butterfly blades, but it was obvious he would rather have held the saber than the twin weapons.

Lander's next blow fell. Li brought his left blade up and let the saber slide along its back all the way to the up-swept guard and twisted, locking the longer weapon for a moment as he reached in underneath and cut at Lander with his right blade. Lander threw himself back. The butterfly sword sliced through his mantle and his dark-red tunic, but missed his flesh. Li wasn't so lucky. As he withdrew his left sword, releasing the lock on the saber, Lander thrust forward instead of pulling back. The saber sliced a shallow gash across Li's arm. He gasped and jumped away.

That gasp broke Tycho's desperate concentration on the glittering weave of steel before him. In a heartbeat, Brin lunged.

Tycho tried to dodge. His heels caught a fallen chair.

He went sprawling backward, backside slapping against the floor hard enough to shock the breath out of him. Brin stepped up between the bard's splayed feet.

"Tomorrow!" Tycho blurted desperately. "You said tomorrow!"

"I don't need a reminder!" Brin bellowed back. "Sweet but you're getting too big for your breeches, Tycho! Maybe it's time to fix that!" He flipped the dagger around in his grasp and hurled sharply almost straight down.

Tycho shoved his heels against the floor and scooted backward desperately. His back slammed up against the bar, bringing a jangle of protest from his strilling, but it was enough-Brin's dagger sank into the floor instead of into his groin. The halfling grabbed for the quivering weapon. Tycho brought up one leg and aimed a kick at him, but Brin just tumbled back again. He came to rest on top of a table.

With a hard scowl, he produced another dagger. Tycho yelled.

Across the room, Li caught and locked the saber with one butterfly sword and, before Lander could pull it away, locked it from the other direction with the second sword as well. He twisted sharply. The saber jerked right out of Lander's hand. Li let all three weapons clatter to the floor and thrust forward with a double-handed blow that hammered into Lander's chest and sent the thug flying backward to crash down across the still-groggy Serg. Whirling around, Li grabbed a chair in each hand. "Brin!" he shouted.

Brin's head snapped around. Li whipped one of the chairs at him. Brin kicked himself up, leaping over the chair as easily as Li had leaped Black Scratch.

The second chair caught him in mid-air and sent him slamming to the ground.

"Outside!" Li shouted at Tycho. "Get outside!" He scooped up the butterfly swords and his own saber and leaped for the door, tearing his scabbard from Lander's belt in passing. Tycho scrambled to his feet as well.

"Tycho?" Laera was curled up in the corner where the bar met the tavern wall. Her face was pale and she was trembling. She stretched out her arms like a child reaching for a comforting toy. Tycho cursed and brought himself up short. He grabbed one arm and hauled her roughly to her feet. She clung to him desperately. "Oh, Tycho!"

"Stop saying that!" He wrenched himself out of her embrace and dragged her toward the door. "Come on!"

Another squealing bellow froze him. Froze everyone who was still left in the tavern. Tycho twisted around to stare at Black Scratch. The boar was back on his feet and shaking off the last of the shattered furniture that had clung to him. His red eyes swept the room and settled on Tycho. He squealed again and charged. Everyone-the last few patrons, Muire, Ovel, Lander, dazed Serg, rage-pale Brin-scattered, flinging themselves out of the monster's way.

Tycho couldn't even form words. He just hurled himself at the door with a primal, panicked yell, Laera stumbling and shrieking in his wake, Black Scratch's thundering hooves coming after them. Tycho didn't look back. He plunged across the threshold and into the cold night air. The Ease's patrons were milling around in confusion in the yard outside. Tycho plowed into them, trying desperately to push his way farther from the door. Any moment now, Black Scratch's tusks would toss Laera aside and tear into him. He could almost feel the boar's hot breath When heat came, however, it came in a sudden flash of light arcing overhead. A heartbeat later, a scorching wave of force lifted and thrust them forward. Tycho staggered and half-turned. The ground outside the door of the Wench's Ease was steaming, the snow melted away. The milling crowd was fleeing. Inside the Ease, Black Scratch was squealing and thundering in panic and rage.

Then the wall beside the door bulged and creaked. The boar was coming out one way or another!

In the darkness, sudden light shimmered, brilliant and warm. Tycho whirled back around. To one side of the great bare tree, stood Li. His shirt was open and he was reaching across his body with his right hand, seeming to draw the light in a long shining strand out of his left shoulder. As he pulled back his arm, the strand grew and thickened until it was the size of a javelin. Tycho gasped, grabbed Laera, and pulled her down into a crouch. Light flashed overhead again; scorching warmth blew past them once more.

"Up!" shouted Tycho. "Up!" He was running before Laera was even on her feet, literally dragging her for several steps toward Li through the muck of the yard. A glance back showed a patch of melted snow at the base of the Ease's wall, but the wood of the wall itself was smoking this time as well. There were still shouts and squeals from inside, but now the squeals sounded frantic with pain. The shouts were angry and defiant; Muire and her loyal customers were holding against Brin and Lander while Black Scratch hurled himself against the walls in terror. Tycho slid to a stop before Li. The Shou was hurriedly refasten-ing his shirt. "What," Tycho gasped, "was that?"

Li shook his head. "Not here. We need to get away." He jerked his head at Laera; the girl was weeping, shivering, and sucking in huge hollow breaths. Tycho ground his teeth together and gave her a hard shake.

"Laera!" he snarled at her. "Go home!" She looked up at him with wide eyes. Mud streaked her face and hair. "Go home to your father!"

"But I want to be with you!" The words came out as a desperate wail and she grabbed for his arms again. "I want to travel, to-"

Tycho slapped her. "You want the road? This is the road. There's no glamor in it." He spun her around sharply. "Go that way. It will take you to a guard station. The guards will see you home. Now run!" He gave her a shove. She stumbled a few steps and looked back. "I said, go! Go!"

Laera wailed again and fled. Tycho didn't look after her. He grabbed Li and pulled him off into the shadows in another direction.

Tycho slid the blade of his dagger down the gap between two boards until he felt it catch slightly. He pressed to the side and a loose section of board on the right popped free. In the cavity behind it was a key. Tycho took it, replaced the board, and slipped around to the door of the net shed. Li was looking up at the shack doubtfully. "No one will find us here?"

"As long as we're quiet, no. The owners died recently." Tycho slid the key into the lock on the door and turned it. The lock gave way with a faint squeal. Li winced.

"How recently?"

"Did you see the body hanging on the tree outside the Ease last night?" The Shou nodded. "That was one of them." He pushed open the door and ushered Li inside, stepped through himself, and closed the door behind them. A whisper of song put a soft magical glow around the key. He flashed it around briefly so Li could see their surroundings. Nets in need of mending. The tools to do it. Lines and reels. Coils of rope. Pitch and caulking. All the equipment fishing folk might need. The shed wasn't big, two paces in one direction, maybe four in another. It was cold-a gap ran across the top of the front and back walls just below the roof line so air could flow through and dry the nets. A tight mesh tacked over it kept out birds and vermin. The water of the Sea of Fallen Stars was close; the sound of the surf was constant. Tycho went to the chest where Ardo and Ton had kept a stash of blankets, water, and smoked fish. The water and blankets he shared out with Li. The fish he left. He couldn't quite handle the thought of eating at the moment. Shielding the glowing key so that only a trace of light leaked through, he dropped down onto a coil of rope and looked hard at Li.

"You can't tell me you're just a clerk now," he said. "I've never seen a clerk fight like that. What exactly does the Department of Lost Treasures do? "

Li shrugged off the small armory of weapons that he wore or carried-scimitar, butterfly swords, and saber fell onto a folded net. He retrieved the saber, slid it out of the scabbard, and held it up in the light to inspect the blade. "The Emperor formed the Department of Lost Treasures as part of an effort to reclaim knowledge and great works lost by the more foolish of his imperial predecessors over the centuries. The Department of Lost Treasures searches out the fabulous artifacts and relics of old."

Tycho's look turned to open-mouthed wonder. "Bind me!" he spat. "You're a treasure hunter?" Li shot him a scowl.

"I'm not a treasure hunter." He thrust the saber back into its scabbard. "My responsibility is to look after the more senior clerks and scholars and keep them safe."

"And those bolts of light? You're not a mage, too, are you?"

Li hesitated then opened his shirt and slipped his left arm free. The wound that Lander had inflicted on him was a sharp red line across his forearm, but twisted around his arm above the bicep was the dirty old rag Tycho had noticed before. The bard's eyes narrowed. "When I healed you last night, I tried to look at that to see if there was another wound underneath. Even half-unconscious, you fought back like it was the most important thing in the world." He leaned forward, taking a closer look at the rag.

In spite of its filthy and worn condition, it was clear that it had once been a piece of very fine silk. "What is it? A lost treasure from your department?"

"It has never been lost. It's a family heirloom entrusted to me by my father to help me in my search for Yu Mao." Li tugged at one edge of the rag, pulling free a clean fold. Tycho gasped-the dirt of the rag was only on the outside. Its true color exposed, the silk was…

Gold. No, buttercups. Saffron. Lemons. It was yellow, but a yellow so pure and exquisite that to call it that was demeaning. And yet there was no other word that could come close to describing it. It shimmered with light and warmth, that tiny exposed fold casting a glow that put his spell of light to shame. The very edge of the fold was ragged, however, and frayed, lycho drew a breath. "Those bolts?"

"Threads of the Yellow Silk of Kuang, drawn forth and hurled at enemies," he said reverently. "I think the same magic kept me just warm enough to endure the snowbank after Lander left me for dead last night." Li folded the edge of the silk back over and its radiance vanished. "Keelung silks are famous for a yellow dye that the Kuang invented. The legends of my family say, however, that the first dyers and weavers of Kuang achieved even more." He brushed his hand over the dirty rag. "They captured the power of the sun in a magical banner."

"That's a banner?" lycho asked in disbelief.

"Fine silk folds very small," Li said. "The Yellow Silk is bigger than it looks. Its power has also been called on many times over the centuries. It isn't as big as it once was. Even the finest silk wears and becomes threadbare with use."

Tycho looked at him narrowly. "With use?" He sucked in an angry breath. "You couldn't have used it earlier? You couldn't have used it last night against Lander and his men?"

Li snarled back just as hotly, dropping into Shou in his anger. "The Yellow Silk isn't some common mage's wand, Tycho! It's the symbol of my family's strength and prosperity. Its power is not used lightly. It hasn't been unfurled in public in more than a hundred years. Even many members of my family believe it to be only a legend and outside of Kuang, it's less than a myth." He folded his arms. "You are the first in three generations aside from the head of Kuang and his heir to see the Yellow Silk and certainly the first non-Shou to have ever even heard of it!" He looked down his nose at Tycho. "I thought you might appreciate that more, considering you seem to collect stories-and considering that the Yellow Silk kept Black Scratch from tearing into your hairy backside."

"I-" Tycho gritted his teeth, reining in his temper. "I do." He blew out his breath. "I'm sorry, Li. Thank you." He held out his hand. After a moment, Li took it and gripped it tight. Tycho patted their clenched hands. "We're in this together now, though. You haven't made a friend of Brin tonight. I don't think he's going to want to talk to either of us now." He released Li's hand and sat back.

"What about his beljurils, then?" Li asked as he slipped his arm back into his sleeve. "How are you going to convince Brin that Jacerryl was the one who stole them if you can't talk to him?"

Tycho blew out his breath and pushed his hands through his hair. Plans tumbled in and out of his mind. He couldn't run-he couldn't leave Veseene and she was in no condition to travel. Make a hostage of someone or something Brin valued… no, that was just a joke. Brin valued no one and nothing with the possible exception of Black Scratch and the thought of capturing the boar was ludicrous. Go to the guard? That thought made him snort out loud.

Carry the fight back to Brin? Stand up to the halfling? His snort turned into a shudder. He'd already done enough of that already. Tycho grimaced. This was how Brin always managed to trap his victims, wasn't it? A net of violence and desperation that struggling only pulled tighter. The only reasonable way out was not to struggle at all, to simply give in to Brin.

"Bind me," growled Tycho. He stood up and whirled out his blankets, spreading them across the ground. Li stared at him. "Go to sleep," Tycho told him. "We're going beljuril hunting tomorrow. If Brin wants the beljurils, we need to get them for him."

"But you said the Hooded-"

"Bitch Queen's wrath, I know what I said." Tycho flung himself down and stretched out. "I've lost track of how many balls we're juggling and which ones are burning. All we can do is try to keep as many as we can in the air until the fire goes out!"

Li sat down on his own blankets, his saber close to hand, and raised an eyebrow. "Tycho," he said seriously, "can we really trust Brin? If we get him the beljurils, is he really going to let me talk to him and let you go in peace?"

"I don't know." The bard looked up at the net-draped ceiling. "Brin has a kind of twisted honor. When he says he's going to do something, for better or worse you know he's going to do it."

"He said you had until tomorrow to get him the beljurils, but he came after you tonight." Li spread out his blankets and crawled between them. "That doesn't sound like any kind of honor to me."

Tycho stashed the glowing key in a pocket of his coat, smothering its light. The magic would fade by morning. The darkness in the shed was complete-eyes open or eyes closed, he still saw nothing. "It's no kind of honor at all," he admitted. "But Brin's up to something, I can feel it. If you can think of another option besides trying to get the beljurils back from the Hooded, I'd like to hear it because I can't think of a better one."

"I don't mind facing down the Hooded. I'd just like to know what Brin wants with us."

Us.

Tycho sat up sharply. "Li, Brin was looking for both of us! Veseene's message said the same thing. I'm the one he blames for losing his beljurils. What does he want with you? You're nothing to him. His men beat you up and robbed you." He drew a breath and his eyes narrowed. "The rubies you had hidden in your coat. Could Brin have found them? Could he be looking for more?"

"I looked at the coat when I fought the man wearing it." Li's voice drifted in the darkness. "It hadn't been torn. The rubies are still sewn up in it."

Tycho cursed and lay back down slowly. "Then what interest could he have in you?"

Li was silent for a moment before he answered.

"Yu Mao," he said. "He knows I'm looking for Yu Mao."

He knows I'm looking. The thought washed through Li's mind, relentless as the waves in the dark. Tycho drifted off to sleep; his snores were soon grating on the air. Li lay awake, staring into the darkness. Turning that thought over in his head. Remembering the hin's one-eyed gaze in the Wench's Ease. He knows I'm looking. Brin wanted him.

And yet for the first time since he had heard Brin's name mentioned in Telflamm, he didn't want Brin.

He flexed his left arm and felt the reassuring tightness of the hidden Yellow Silk, token of his father's trust and testament to the desperation of his journey. Soon, he promised himself. It would all be over soon. He closed his eyes.

Lander stared morosely at the floor of the Eel's gambling room. Brin had ordered the room closed as soon as they had returned from the Wench's Ease. Lander and his men had found themselves waiting on the halfling's pleasure while he took Black Scratch out to the sty. The boar's snout had been scorched by whatever magic had prevented the animal from pursuing Tycho and Mard Dantakain's daughter out of the Ease. He glanced around at his men. Ovel was trying to stretch around and rub ointment onto his burned back. Serg winced every time he flexed his abdomen. Nico was surreptitiously touching his groin as if making sure all of his bits were still there. And Bor… Bor was holding a rag filled with snow to a blackened eye-Lander had inflicted that on the idiot himself for staying outside the Ease when he should have had the brains and guts to get in and join the fight.

And a black eye is going to be nothing compared to what Brin will do to us all, he thought. The halfling couldn't be happy that Tycho and Li Chien had slipped through their fingers. A happy fantasy flitted through Lander's mind: kill Brin and seize control of his operations. He shook his head to dislodge the idea. Not that he didn't like it. He just didn't like the thought of what might happen if he failed.

A door banged closed and a moment later the curtains across the gambling room entrance twitched aside. Brin walked in. Lander-and Ovel and Serg and Nico and Bor-stared at him.

He was smiling. He was happy.

Lander swallowed. "Uhh… Brin?"

"Something worrying you, Lander?" Brin sauntered over to a comfortable chair and sprawled across it. He nodded sharply to Bor. "Get me a mug of ale." Bor dashed away, grateful for the moment of escape. Brin's gaze settled on Lander again. "You should be worried. That was clumsy."

Lander held back the observation that Brin had been no more successful himself. "Tycho said something about knowing where the beljurils are, Brin. He has to bring them to us tomorrow. We can get him and the Shou then."

"After tonight, / wouldn't bring anything to me." The halfling waved his hand. "Never mind Tycho and the beljurils. I want Kuang Li Chien."

"Why?" grunted Ovel.

Brin fixed him with a harsh stare. "Because I do." His fingers flicked and suddenly a knife stood between them. "Reason enough?" Ovel swallowed and nodded. A grin spread across Brin's face and he sat up straight. "We'll keep looking for Tycho and Li Chien tomorrow morning- and deal with the Wench's Ease, too. More important, I'm going to need messages waiting at three places uptown first thing in the morning."

"Where and who for?" asked Lander.

Brin held up a pinky finger. "Hanibaz Nassor at his home in Burned Street." Ring finger. "Mosi Anu at the Sil-verbell Inn." Middle finger. "Thaedra Korideion at Nelka Marsk's home near the citadel."

Lander said nothing. Brin raised an eyebrow as if daring him to comment, and after a moment Lander could hold back no more. "Two Red Wizards and a Chessentan mage," he said softly. "The same customers you were going to sell the beljurils to."

"Exactly." Bor came brushing through the curtains and handed Brin a mug of ale that was only slightly smaller than his head. The halfling raised it to Lander. "I'm going to offer them the chance to bid on something even better than beljurils. Something completely unique, very kindly brought west by Kuang Li Chien. An artifact of Shou Lung that contains the power of the sun itself-" Brin gave a calculating grin so cold it made Lander shiver. "-the Yellow Silk of Kuang!"