The Yellow silk r-4

by Don Bassingthwaite

  "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 se
emed 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!"

  "Yo
u'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.