The Yellow silk r-4

by Don Bassingthwaite

  The stranger twitched away from his hand as though Tycho carried the Thayan pox himself. "Leave me, singer," he said in a thick accent and walked on.

  At the nearest table, Rana's laughter turned into an ugly snort. "Arrogant elf-blood," she spat at the stranger's retreating back.

  "He's not elf-blood, Rana," Tycho told her, straightening up. "He's a Shou."

  "Elf, Shou-you don't see much of neither in Spandeliyon."

  "No," agreed Tycho, "you don't." He nodded distracted acknowledgment as others in the crowd shouted for another song, but didn't raise his strilling again. Instead, he turned and went after the stranger.

  The Shou was just stepping up to the bar. Tycho gave him a surreptitious examination as he approached. The Shou was tall, lean, and stiff, a sturdy doorpost of a man. The pack he carried slung over one shoulder was large and heavy. The wool of his coat was dusty, dirt muting the fine blue of the quilted fabric. It was fraying slightly along the hem and at the cuffs and elbows. Unless he missed his guess, the man had come a long, long way. Clipping his bow to the strap of his strilling and shifting the instrument around to ride on his back once more, Tycho bellied up to the bar beside him. The Shou glanced at him out of the corner of his almond-shaped eyes.

  "I said leave me, singer. I do not want a song." The Shou man turned away as if Tycho were already gone from his mind and set a scabbard containing a heavy Shou saber on the bar. He looked to Muire. "A clean cup with good wine or pale ale." He set some coins on the bar.

  Sembian copper pennies. A scant price for a mug of ale in another port, but just right for dockside Spandeliyon. The man, Tycho judged, was an experienced traveler.

  Muire glanced down at the pennies, not even blinking at the saber beside them. "A clean cup I can give you," she said, "but we only have dark ale here." The Shou nodded and Muire turned away to the ale casks. Conversation in the tavern was returning to normal, laughter dying out to be replaced by the usual hum and murmur. Much of it, Tycho was fairly certain, would be about this unusual visitor.

  The Ease's patrons were whetting their appetites for a good story and, bind him, he'd be the one to give it to them! He leaned in. The Shou fixed him with an angry glare, but Tycho didn't back away. Instead he smiled at him. "You've come to a poor town on a cold night, honored lord," he said in the musical Shou tongue.

  He had the satisfaction of seeing the stranger's eyes widen ever so slightly in surprise. "You speak Shou," he replied in the same language.

  "A little bit," Tycho told him modestly. "You aren't the only traveler here. I had the pleasure of spending some time in the Shou town of Telflamm in Thesk and learned your language there."

  The stranger nodded. "Ah," he said. He looked directly at Tycho. "That would explain why you speak it like a lisping whore from Ch'ing Tung."

  Blood rushed to Tycho's face. He opened his mouth, a stinging insult rising to his lips, but Muire cut him off before he could deliver it. "Your ale, sir," she said, setting a tankard down before the Shou-and one before Tycho as well, foamy, thick, and hastily drawn. "And yours." The Shou man picked up his tankard and nodded to her. When Tycho reached for his own, though, Muire gave the tankard a shove that sent foam slopping onto his hand and sleeve.

  "Let it go," she hissed. "I don't know what you're saying to him, but I can read faces as well as anyone."

  "Muire-"

  "I've had enough trouble tonight. Apologize to him!"

  Growling, Tycho took a deep swig of ale and glanced over at the Shou. The man seemed to have forgotten him already. He was scanning the crowd of the tavern, holding his ale but not actually drinking it. There was a look of deep intensity on his face. Though any number of the Ease's patrons were staring at him, he didn't appear to make eye contact with any of them. Lost in his own haughty world, Tycho thought balefully. He gulped some more ale-and swallowed his pride with it. He leaned over toward the Shou. The man's gaze snapped back to him immediately with the experience of a trained fighter. Tycho realized that he held his tankard in his left hand. One swift move would have his right around the grip of his saber. Tycho stayed still, as if absolutely nothing were wrong. "I'm sorry if my feeble attempts at Shou have offended you, sir." In spite of the stranger's insult, he stuck with the language. "My name is Tychoben Arisaenn, but everyone calls me Tycho. May I know your name? "

  The Shou's mouth twitched into a narrow frown. "My surname is Kuang and my personal name is Li Chien and if you insist on addressing me again, you will go to the gates of the afterlife with that name upon your lips."

  This time, Tycho actually choked. Heckling, even dismissal-those were one thing. He could deal with them.

  He had dealt with them, in taverns all around the Sea of Fallen Stars from Spandeliyon to Suzail, Procampur to Arrabar, and back again. Blunt intimidation, on the other hand, was something else. His jaw clenched. "You might want to have a care, Master Kuang. Threats aren't taken lightly around here."

  "That's wise," the Shou replied. "A man should take seriously every threat made to him-as well as every threat that he makes himself."

  Both of his hands were still, right open to seize his blade, left steady and ready to toss his tankard. Tycho had been through enough tavern brawls to recognize the body language. Behind him, he heard Muire curse quietly. "Tycho…" she said with low warning.

  Her words seemed to echo. The Wench's Ease had suddenly grown quiet, Tycho realized, the hint of violence drawing every eye. Tycho ignored both Muire and the stares of the crowd. "What do you want here, Master Kuang?" he asked, abandoning attempts at Shou. "If you want trouble, you didn't have to travel so far."

  The change in language seemed to give the stranger pause. He blinked and his frown grew deeper as he noticed the attention of the crowd as well. He straightened up and looked out at all of the Ease's patrons.

  "I am looking for a man," he announced in his thick accent. "A man who was a pirate."

  Tycho's lips curved up and he snickered-then laughed. So did the crowd. For the second time that night, laughter washed through the Ease. Unlike the first time, however, there wasn't anything good-natured about it. Tycho gave the Shou a thin smile. "Master Kuang, have you heard of Aglarond? It's the country to the northeast of Altumbel. Its ruler is the Simbul. The Witch-Queen. She doesn't like pirates and she doesn't have much mercy for the ones that she catches off her coasts. There have been a lot of pirates recently who decided it would be better if they were to stay away from Aglarond and take up a more peaceful profession. Like fishing. In Spandeliyon."

  He nodded out to the crowd. A good number of the Ease's patrons-a very large number-opened their mouths in gap-toothed grins.

  The Shou said nothing. Tycho wondered if the man had followed what he had just said. "Master Kuang?"

  "I understand," the Shou said narrowly. He stood stiff and said in words that sounded carefully practiced, "The man I'm looking for is a one-eyed hin-a halfling-who was mate on a ship called the Sow. His name-then-was Brin."

  Laughter died instantly. Grins disappeared. Even Ty cho felt his anger drain away. "Master Kuang…"

  Kuang Li Chien gave him a sharp glare. To the crowd, he said, "I will reward anyone who takes me to Brin. I have business with him."

  For a moment, no one moved. Then a chair scraped back. "I'll take you to Brin," called a voice.

  Lander stood up.

  Breath caught in Tycho's throat. He glanced at the Shou. The man was giving Lander a measured look that turned into a curt nod. "Very well." He twisted around and set his tankard, still full, on the bar. As he picked up his saber, Tycho caught his eye and tried to give him a slight shake of his head, a silent warning. Kuang Li Chien just pressed his lips together and turned away. "I will give you the reward when we find Brin," he said to Lander.

  "Fair enough." Lander adjusted his mantle and walked over to the door. A box beside it held cheap torches for patrons who needed them. Lander flipped a coin into the box and took one, holding it over a candle to light it. In only a mom
ent, the torch was burning and a wreath of smoke surrounded Lander. He opened the door. Cold air and snow gusted inside. "After you," he said.

  "No," insisted Kuang Li Chien, "I will follow you." Lander shrugged and stepped out into the night. The Shou followed him without a backward glance.

  The door slammed shut on a silent tavern. No one said anything-at least none of the Ease's regular patrons. At the table Lander had just abandoned, his men began snickering and jostling each other as they rushed to drain their tankards. After a few long moments, they rose and walked out the door as well. Once they were gone, Tycho blew out a long breath. "Bind me," he murmured. He lifted his tankard to his lips, gulped the bitter ale, and turned around to glance at Muire. Her face was hard. Both of them looked at the Shou's untouched tankard. "Dead man's ale, Muire," Tycho said.

  The tavern keeper took the tankard and dumped the ale inside into a slop bucket. Tycho nodded and turned back around. Throughout the Ease, conversation was muted as people dived deep into their ale. Tycho pulled his strilling back up to his shoulder and put bow to string. Music rippled out, bringing sound back into the tavern and pushing away memory of the Shou's brief, ill-fated visit.

  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.