The Yellow silk r-4

by Don Bassingthwaite

  "Did you consider that maybe he isn't comfortable with our language?"

  "He knows I speak Shou," grumbled Tycho. "He even insulted me over it."

  "Then maybe he has something important on his mind."

  Tycho dismissed the idea with a snort and stared into the fire. He didn't have to look at Veseene to know that she was rolling her eyes, but he heard her grunt as she climbed awkwardly to her feet and hobbled over to a cupboard. "Fine," she said. "Sulk. You did a good thing and got no thanks for it. I once spent two months as a dog because I tried to throw a surprise party for a wizard friend."

  He tried to hold back a smile, but failed. "It's impossible to sulk around you," he complained.

  "I try my best." Veseene looked at him over her shoulder. "Try to remember what I told you when I took you on, Tycho. A bard remembers everything, laughs, laments, mourns, and celebrates-"

  "— and regrets nothing." Tycho sighed. "I know." He pushed himself up off the cot. "Thank you."

  "You're welcome. Here. Catch." Veseene opened the cupboard and tossed a big chunk of bread at him, followed in rapid succession by two mugs, a plate, and a piece of hard cheese. Her aim was more than a little off, spoiled by the shaking of her hands, but Tycho darted forward and caught each item, juggling them easily in the air. His feet found the toasting iron. He flicked it upright with one foot, held it there with the toes of the other, and impaled first the cheese then the bread on it. The mugs and plate went down on top of a small table. Tycho kicked the iron up, spun around once, caught it, and had the bread held above the fire before Veseene could even close the cupboard. "Show off," she told him.

  "If I can figure out a way to do that at the Ease, I could make an extra fifteen pennies off the crowd."

  "Maybe Muire wants to hire a cook." Veseene set two small, plain boxes down beside the mugs. She opened one and the fragrant smell of mint filled the room. A spoonful of dried leaves went into one mug and she pushed it toward Tycho. When she opened the other box, however, the odor that emerged was very different, dusty and acrid. Veseene tilted the box and tapped it against the tabletop. She didn't bother with a spoon, but just tipped the contents of the box into the second mug-a small amount of crumbled, multicolored material came sifting out. "I'll need to go to Sephera today," she said.

  "There's coin in the cupboard," Tycho told her. "Unless Li Chien took that as well your blanket." He turned and slid the toasted bread and cheese onto the plate then went back and lifted the kettle off the fire, filling their mugs with boiling water. He averted his face as he filled Veseene's. Her red-tinted tea smelled terrible when water was first added to the dry concoction. He wasn't sure how she managed to drink it, though he was glad she did. The tea was the only thing that staved off the worst effects of her palsy.

  While his own tea steeped, Tycho poured the rest of the boiling water into a large basin to cool and laid out his razor and a cake of soap. Veseene's eyebrows rose gently. "What's the occasion?"

  "It's an alternate fifth-day," Tycho told her. He opened the door of the second room of their little home. During the warm seasons, it was his bedroom, but in the winter, they closed it off to keep the main room warmer. Just inside the door was a chest; he opened it and took out a clean shirt, doublet, and breeches, snapping out the wrinkles with a flourish. "Laera Dantakain takes her lessons this morning and I'll be bait myself before I let an ill-mannered Shou put me off that!"

  Veseene gave him a look of caution. "Tycho…"

  He smiled at her. "Don't worry, Veseene. Everything is perfectly proper." Her eyebrows managed to rise even higher. "Really," Tycho assured her. "They're only music lessons."

  "That's very good, but you're still holding it wrong." Tycho slid in behind Laera, correcting her posture withhis own body. He stretched his arms around hers, moved her elbows, and reached forward to loosen stiff fingers. "And be gentle with the strings. Caress them when you pluck." His breath whispered across the side of her neck. "This is a harp, not a bow. You can pull the strings-" Tycho drew one back sharply and the muscles of his arm pressed against Laera's. "-but if you do, they'll break." He eased the string back into place. Laera gave a tiny sigh.

  Out of her eyesight, Tycho allowed himself a grin. "That's good," he said, untwining himself from her. "Now play for me."

  Laera tossed back long, glossy brown hair, narrowed her eyes in concentration, and began to play-quite prettily-The King of Pirates.

  Tycho's grin turned into a choke. All they needed was the crowd from the Ease there to sing along! He was lucky that Laera's lessons took place in the library of the Dantakain home, where book-lined walls and thick doors muffled all sound. Back in dockside, the music would have carried through an entire flimsy building! He put a hand hastily over the strings of the harp, stilling them. Laera blinked and stopped. "Ah, Laera," Tycho said, "I know your father is a stern man-"

  "Tycho, you have no idea. He's been trying for eighteen years to keep me from growing up!" Laera pouted up at him with pretty brown eyes. "I swear he still thinks of me as a little girl."

  It was hard to see how anyone could think of Laera Dantakain as a little girl. "I was going to say that surely he must make you practice your lessons." Tycho brushed Laera's hands away from the strings. "That isn't one of the songs I told you to practice."

  "I heard some of the city guard singing it. Isn't it romantic? A pure-hearted maid swept away by the king of pirates to be his outlaw queen…"

  Her fingers tangled for a moment with his. Tycho gave her a soft smile. "That's not… exactly what it's about, Laera. You probably shouldn't play it anymore. It's a very low-class song and not appropriate for a fine lady." Laera made a distinctly unladylike noise. "Your father wouldn't approve," Tycho added.

  Laera's face screwed up. "My father is completely tone-deaf. He's the Captain of the Guard. The only tunes he can recognize are trumpet commands in battle. You know he couldn't give fish-guts about-" Tycho cleared his throat. Laera glowered and corrected herself archly. "You know he has no particular interest in whether I learn the skills of a lady."

  "I'm sure he wants you to be attractive to any potential suitors."

  "In Spandeliyon? In Altumbel? There aren't any."

  "Aglarond?"

  Laera made a noise again. "Live with the elves? I don't think so." She swung the harp aside roughly-Tycho winced as the strings jangled-and bounced to her feet. "I don't see why I need to learn the harp either. I like your strilling better." She went over to where the instrument lay on a table. Tycho moved to intercept her before she could give it the same rough treatment as her harp, but she just put the tip of a finger on the chunky sound box and ran it along the curved body. "That was all you needed to charm your way around the Sea of Fallen Stars, wasn't it?" She picked up the strilling and gave him a lingering look before turning her back to him. "Can you show me the proper way to hold it?" she asked over her shoulder.

  Tycho's smile grew a little wider and he stepped up behind her. Before he could put his arms around her, though, the library doors opened and a lean man with carefully dressed hair walked in. Tycho hastily turned right around Laera and began correcting the position of the strilling briskly. "… and, of course, the strilling is the traditional instrument of Altumbel. You won't find it played anywhere else." He blinked and looked up at the lean man with an innocent gaze. "Olore, Jacerryl. Come for a recitation?"

  "Tycho was just telling me about his strilling, uncle," added Laera.

  Jacerryl Dantakain raised an eyebrow in polite disbelief. "Was he now?" His eye fell on the abandoned harp then darted back to Laera. She flushed and returned the strilling to the table. Jacerryl nodded. "It was hard enough to talk my brother into letting you take music lessons at all," he said. "You might want to keep your attention focused on the harp. It's a far more suitable instrument for a young lady than something vulgar like a screeching strilling."

  "Vulgar? "Tycho felt himself flush as well. "Screeching?

  A strilling has more expression th
an any tinkling, bloody harp. There's nothing vulgar-"

  "The harp," said Jacerryl coolly, "is the only thing my brother wants you teaching Laera. The only thing. Could I have a word with you in private?" He gestured for Tycho to follow him and went back out through the doors. Tycho glanced at Laera. She grimaced and stuck out her tongue at her uncle's back then winked at Tycho. He grinned but quickly suppressed it and went after Jacerryl.

  The library opened off the rather grand entrance hall of the Dantakain house, a tall space of light and great pots sporting arrangements of evergreen boughs in pale imitation of summer greenery. Jacerryl said nothing as he closed the library doors behind them and nodded Tycho into the shadow of one of the potted arrangements. "I mean that, you know," he whispered. "I got you this job by assuring Mard that you were completely trustworthy and nothing untoward would happen with Laera."

  "You said you wanted her taught worldly manners," Tycho shot back. "And she's going to come off as a backwater bumpkin if she doesn't know how to flirt. All she knew before I started teaching her she had learned from bad ballads and silly tales of chivalry." He jerked his head toward the library's closed doors. "She's got talent, but she just tried to play The Pirate King as if it were a romance!"

  Jacerryl's eyes went wide. He just barely managed to turn a chuckle into an indignant cough. Tycho crossed his arms and gave him a glare. "I didn't teach her that."

  "I don't think you did." Jacerryl wiped his eyes. "You better not let Mard catch you giving Laera such personal instruction, though. He's not a forgiving soul."

  "Trust me, I won't. Don't worry, I have everything with Laera completely under control. Nothing will get out of hand. This job has too many benefits." Tycho looked Jacerryl over. "You didn't bring me out here just to talk tome, did you?"

  Jacerryl reached inside the doublet that he wore and pulled out a small tin tube about a handspan in length. The top of it was capped with a plug; a green cord wrapped lengthwise around the whole tube held it firmly in place. "For delivery to our mutual friend," he said quietly. "As soon as possible. I believe he has buyers already waiting."

  "What's inside? " Tycho took the tube and gave it a very gentle shake. A faint rattle came from within.

  "Beljurils," Jacerryl said. "All the way from Calimshan."

  Tycho blinked and pressed his lips together, impressed. Beljurils were deep water-green gems, possessed of their own natural winking light. He had once seen a necklace of them, a fantastic flashing collar, at a ball in the Ches-sentan city of Cimbar. They were stunningly precious. Just one could buy half a block of the sagging buildings in dockside-or a grand home in a better part of Spandeli-yon. There had to be several in the tube. A fortune! And for his role in delivering them, Tycho would receive only five coins of gold.

  His life wouldn't be worth a shaved penny if he tried to hold even one jewel back.

  He undid the knot on the cord and eased the plug out. A twist of silk was wadded into the tube. Tycho shook it out and unfolded it carefully. Eight gems gleamed at him. He swallowed. "Is that the right number?" he asked Jacerryl. The other man nodded. Tycho swallowed again and wrapped the gems back up, returning the silk to the tube, replacing the cap, and binding the green cord around the whole thing once more. "All right then. I'll take them over as soon as I'm finished with Laera's-"

  Down at the end of the entry hall, there was a loud hammering on the house's great doors. Tycho closed his mouth and palmed the tube, deftly slipping it up his sleeve as a servant came rushing past to answer the door. He gave Jacerryl a curt nod and the two men separated, Jacer-ryl turning to go deeper into the house, Tycho back to the library and Laera. He was reaching for the door handle when he heard the servant at the door sniff in distaste and say coldly, "Beggars are considered at the kitchen door." It was the heavily accented response, however, that made Tycho freeze and turn in disbelief.

  "I'm not a beggar. I want to see Mard Dantakain." Li stared at the servant, a delicate, long-nosed man. "Is this his house?"

  The man hesitated. "Yes."

  "Is he at home?"

  The servant's gaze slid down the length of his nose. "Is he expecting you?"

  "No, but-"

  "Then he is not at home." The servant began to swing the door shut.

  Li ground his teeth and stepped forward, hitting the door with his full weight, knocking it wide once more, and sending the servant reeling. "I have important business," he roared. "Is Mard Dantakain not the captain of your city guard? / want to see him! "

  It had not been a good morning. His stolen clothes smelled extremely bad and were very possibly infested with vermin. The boots were too small and one had a substantial hole in the sole. His stomach was empty and growling with hunger. He had spent considerable time skulking about the snowy streets hunting for a guard station or a member of the chy guard while avoiding the notice of people as best he could. After his encounter with Lander last night, how could he know who was or was not associated with Brin?

  The peak of his humiliation had been turning a corner and literally running into Steth, the captain who had brought him from Telflamm. To the captain's credit, he had managed to keep a straight face when he recognized Li in his stinking, stolen clothes. "Run of bad luck?" he had asked.

  Li had not risen to the bait. "I'm looking for a guard station," he had said simply.

  Steth had directed him around the corner and down two blocks. "I'm in port for a few days until I go back to Telflamm," the captain had called after him. "I still have room on the return voyage if you need passage." Li had not responded to that at all.

  The guards at the station had been no help. A dishev-eled-looking guard had glanced at him as he entered, then had simply looked away. Li had stepped up and informed him that he was in need of assistance-only to have the man ignore him entirely. He had been in the middle of repeating his request, slowly and with great care, when the guard had finally looked up. "I heard you the first time, elf-blood," he had grunted.

  Li had very nearly lost his temper. It had taken great restraint to explain politely that he had no elf blood, that he was Shou, and that he had been attacked in the night. The guard had listened with disinterest. He had only perked up when Li said he knew the name of the man who had attacked him. "Who?" he had asked.

  "His name is Lander. He works for a halfling named Brin."

  He hadn't even gotten a chance to explain that he was looking for Brin before the guard had burst out laughing. The guard had then shouted something to his colleagues, who had also burst out laughing.

  Then they all threw Li out of the station and left him to flounder in the snow. When he tried to storm back inside, the guard had very seriously threatened him with arrest.

  He had left the vicinity of the docks. If Brin had such a hold on the area that even the guards seemed to be on his side, maybe he needed to look elsewhere to find help. Li had headed inland, away from the water and toward the taller buildings he had seen from Steth's ship. He felt more confident here approaching people-though many of them now avoided him-and inquiries had directed him to a much larger guard station. This time the guard hadn't greeted him with disdain as an elf-blood. Instead, he had been firmly dismissed as a vagrant who had wandered up from the docks. Knowing better than to name Brin and Lander again, Li had drawn himself up stiffly and, with the relentless formality that never failed to produce results with the bureaucracy of Shou Lung, had demanded the guards do their duty in finding the men who had robbed him.

  The only thing the demand produced was more laughter. Red-faced with rage, Li had held himself in check until the guards' laughter had settled down then he asked who their commander was and where he could find him. "Oh," one guard had said quickly, "you'll be wanting to speak to Mard Dantakain. He's the Captain of the Guard. He'll most likely be at home right now. You just march right up to hightown and ask for him. Can't miss his house." He walked over to the door and pointed farther into the heart of Spandeliyon to a small but solid fortress. "He lives righ
t beside the citadel."

  Li had stalked out with laughter ringing in his ears once more.

  That wasn't going to happen again. As Mard Dan-takain's startled doorman recovered himself and more servants began to appear, Li stepped into the entrance hall and stood tall, trying to imagine that the filthy clothes he wore were actually a formal maitung robe embroidered with the symbols of his ministry and rank. "I am Kuang Li Chien of the city of Keelung in the Hai Yuan province of the Great Empire of Shou Lung," he thundered, "and I serve the Son of Heaven in the Department of Lost Treasures! " He glared down at the servants and anger lent him exaggeration. "I represent Shou Lung in this place and I demand to speak with Mard Dantakain!"

  "I'm Mard Dantakain."

  The voice that filled the hall was confident, commanding, and very clearly irritated. The gathered servants fell quiet. Li looked up. At the head of a flight of stairs ascending to the second floor of the house stood a tall man with a strong build. His face was hard and sour. He wore an open vest and held papers in both hands, as if he had just risen from work at a desk. Li immediately bent in a formal bow. "Honored sir, I-"

  He hadn't gotten more than a few words out before the servants swarmed him, seizing him by the arms and shoulders. Li roared again and tried to shake them off, but they had a solid grip. The best he could manage was to heave himself upright again-only to find Mard Dantakain right in front of him. "Well," he said in a low tone, "you're speaking to me. Now tell me why I shouldn't have you thrown in jail for invading my home."

  Li struggled for dignity. "Honored sir," he said with all the grace he could muster, "I was told you are captain of the city guard. I need your help-I was robbed not long after arriving in your city last night and-"

  "Robbed? Robbed where?"

  "By the docks."

  Mard frowned and his face creased into deep lines as if well-used to the expression. "What in Helm's name were you doing down there?"