The Yellow silk r-4

by Don Bassingthwaite

  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.