The Yellow silk r-4 Read online

  "I got lost." Laera found her voice. "A woman found me."

  "Rana," said Veseene. She pushed past Tycho and sat on the couch, drawing Laera down beside her. "She saw you two at the Ease last night and when she couldn't get any sense out of Laera, she brought her here. I got her calmed down. She told me what happened last night. She also told me what else has been going on during her music lessons."

  "Nothing has been going on! Nothing!" Tycho stepped up and knelt down in front of the couch. "It was just-"

  Veseene's hand darted out and slapped him.

  The blow wasn't hard, but it hurt him more than Tycho could have imagined. He looked down at the floor in shame then up again. He turned to Laera. "It was flirting, Laera. That was all. I'm sorry." He stuck out his chin. "Go ahead," he said, "take a shot."

  Laera didn't hesitate. Her slap had more strength behind it, though, and it caught his lip against his teeth. Tycho reached up and touched his mouth. His finger came away with a spot of blood on it. He wiped it on his pants. "Better?" he asked. Laera nodded. "Good." He stood up. "Your father is looking for you."

  "I know." She looked up at him. "He's already been here. It was the first place he looked."

  Tycho blinked in confusion. "Then what are you still doing here?"

  "I sent him away," said Veseene. "I told him I hadn't seen her."

  Laera sat up straight, taking Veseene's hand in her own. "I still want to leave Spandeliyon, Tycho. I want to travel with you. If you'll have me, I want to be your apprentice."

  "What?" exploded Tycho. "No! No!" He stomped around the room. "Of all the stupid "He flung himself down on the edge of his cot. Head in his hands, he told Veseene and Laera everything. Her uncle's duplicity brought another gasp from Laera, but Veseene just sat still and listened. When Tycho had finished, she gestured for him to come closer. He did.

  She slapped him again and glared at Li. "Didn't I tell you he gets into enough trouble on his own?" The Shou shrugged.

  "It's not all his fault," he pointed out. "It was only because he's helping me that Brin came here last night." Veseene grunted and looked back at Tycho. Her former apprentice threw up his hands.

  "I'm an idiot," he said. "Go ahead. Say it." He turned to Laera. "Go home," he said. "You'll be a lot safer there. I'm not leaving Spandeliyon any time soon and I'm not even going to think about taking you as an apprentice right now. I have to go steal beljurils from one ruthless gang boss just so I have a chance at appeasing another ruthless gang boss!"

  Laera folded her arms. "I don't have to leave Spandeliyon, but I'm not going back to my father's house."

  Tycho stared at her in amazement for a moment before grinding his teeth together. "Bind me, you're as stubborn as he is! Fine! Just "He searched for alternatives that would at least keep Laera out of their way. "Just stay here, then. Keep an eye on Veseene. We can sort this out after I've finished getting the Hooded good and mad at me!" He rose and went back into the back room, aiming an angry kick at Jacerryl's packs in passing.

  He heard Veseene's shuffle behind him a moment later. "What is it?" he snarled. "Do you really think I should take Laera as an apprentice? I'm not ready to have an apprentice of my own!"

  "Actually, I think you are," Veseene said calmly. "And I think that if Laera is willing to ride out all of the rejections you've been giving her, she might make a good apprentice, too."

  Tycho turned and dug into his chest. "But half of her expectations come out of ballads and romance tales. She knows almost nothing about the world outside of Spandeliyon!" He stiffened and turned around. As he expected, Veseene's eyebrows were arched high. "Don't you dare say she reminds you of a certain Spandeliyon dock rat."

  Veseene shrugged. "A bard can have her roots in high town just as well as in dockside." She sat down on his bed.

  "Take her as an apprentice or send her back to her father, the choice is yours just as much as it is hers. I didn't follow you to force a decision on that. You're right-you've got other things to deal with right now. What's your plan for getting the beljurils away from the Hooded?"

  "I hadn't gotten that far yet," muttered Tycho. He kicked his chest. The lid fell shut with a bang. "I'll think of something, though."

  "Good," said Veseene. "May I make a suggestion? There's a spell I know-"

  Tycho rounded on her instantly. "A spell? Veseene, I remember what Sephera said. Increasing your dose of the tea will make it less effective later. It's not worth it for one spell!" Veseene smiled and reached up. Tycho braced himself for another slap, but she just patted his cheek.

  "Tycho, I care about you. Sometimes you really are an idiot, but I'll do whatever I can to pull you out of your messes. I've been doing it for years and that's never going to change." She patted his cheek again-and slapped him a third time. "If you listen to anything I tell you today, listen to this: you need help! Stop fussing and take it!"

  Tycho stared at her and smiled. "When did you get so cranky, Veseene?"

  "It started when I took an apprentice." She raised her voice. "Someone put the kettle on the fire!"

  Lander walked through the back door of the Eel-behind him, the pigs of Brin's sty squealed with mingled excitement and fear as Black Scratch made his return- and into the festhaU's main room. Even in the middle of the morning, the Eel had a few patrons burying faces in mugs. Lander walked up to the day shift bartender, a man as weedy as his nighttime counterpart was big. "Where's Brin?" he asked wearily.

  "Blue Room," said the man tersely. "With visitors."

  Visitors. Lander drew a deep breath, walked across the main room to a blue-painted door, and stepped through into the best of the Eel's private rooms. Four figures turned to look at him. Brin was the only one who looked pleased to see him. Lander closed the door softly behind himself and took stock of the three mages who sat listening to the halfling's description of the Yellow Silk of Kuang.

  Mosi Anu looked exactly like everyone's expectation of a Red Wizard of Thay: tall, lean, and hawklike, shaved smooth, and swathed in robes of brilliant red. Tattoos literally crawled across his scalp. Every time Lander looked away or even blinked, he had the uncomfortable feeling that the tattoos had shifted. Mosi only occasionally visited Spandeliyon, but when he did it was always to deal with Brin. He sat closest to the halfling, listening intently to his every word.

  Thaedra Korideion sat on the opposite side of the room. She was tall and thin as well, but unlike the Red Wizard, she carried herself with a graceful elegance that commanded attention. The first time Lander had met her, he had fallen into an easy, obedient awe in her presence. Brin had poked him with a knife just to rouse him. Thaedra was an enchantress-Brin said that at her home in Chessenta, she was served by a small army, all slaves to her will and beauty. Lander had kept his distance from her ever since.

  The third mage… Lander still had difficulty believing that Hanibaz Nassor was a mage, let alone a Red Wizard. Hanibaz was a hefty, jovial sort who liked an evening at the Eel. His hair was thick, his only visible tattoos were on his arms like any number of sailors, and the only red about him was a wide sash over his belly. Most of Spandeliyon had no idea he was a Red Wizard and word was that Hani-baz liked it that way because he was actually a Thayan spy. He sat farthest from Brin, sprawled out in his chair with a mug of ale close to hand.

  Of the three, Lander trusted him the least. As usual, he was the first one to speak when Brin finished. "I'm intrigued," he said. "The Silk would be a great curiosity if nothing else." Hooked like a fish, Lander thought. Hanibaz's words might have been casual, but his left hand was fidgeting, thumb spinning a ring* on his middle finger around and around. He only did that when he was well and truly interested in something.

  "A curiosity is likely all it will be," sniffed Mosi Anu. "These legends you've been telling us are preposterous. A bunch of uneducated weavers and dyers catching the power of the sun in a piece of cloth? "

  He was hooked, too. Mosi and Hanibaz were rivals. Anything Hanibaz wanted, Mosi would treat with disdai
n-until he was able to snatch it out from under Hanibaz.

  "Thaedra?" asked Brin.

  The Chessentan stretched. "Exotic, powerful, unbelievably old. Brin, you know I want it."

  Her voice throbbed with power. Lander forced his eyes up to the ceiling and bit down hard on his tongue to distract himself from her. Even the Red Wizards must have felt her sway. Hanibaz broke the moment with a biting, "Exotic, powerful, unbelievably old-Thaedra, my dear, that could be your smallclothes!"

  Mosi Anu frowned dourly, but Brin laughed and even Lander snickered. Thaedra turned a burning gaze on Hanibaz. "Brin," she said haughtily, "when will we be able to see this fabled silk?"

  "Thaedra," said Brin with a clever smile and a glance back at Lander, "the Yellow Silk of Kuang-"

  Lander winced and gave a tiny shake of his head.

  Brin's smile faltered for a moment then came back strong. "-will be available for your examination shortly. While you wait, the facilities of the Eel are yours."

  "How disappointing." Thaedra rose. "I don't think it's worth my time to wait. Brin, between this Yellow Silk and the beljurils, you've left me unsatisfied twice this past tenday. Next time, try to have the merchandise available before you drag me all the way down here." Brin flushed as she walked out of the room and Lander wasn't sure which he shied away from more: her aura of power or Brin's violent wrath. The halfling looked to the Red Wizards. Hanibaz shrugged.

  "I don't mind waiting. Mosi?"

  His rival's lips narrowed. "I want to see the look on your face when Brin unveils some Shou's handkerchief." He sat back in his chair.

  A measure of satisfaction returned to Brin's face. "Very good." He hopped to his feet and bowed to each of them as he walked to the back of the room. "I'll send someone in to see to your needs." He turned his smile on Lander. "A word with you outside?"

  A hard shove didn't leave any room for refusal. As soon as the blue door slammed shut behind them, Lander gasped out an explanation. "We looked everywhere, Brin! We couldn't find Tycho or Li Chien. Even Black Scratch couldn't pick up their scents."

  Brin growled under his breath, but to Lander's relief, he didn't lash out. "Don't worry," he said. "I have a plan." He started toward the festhall's back door. "I'll be back. Wait here and keep an eye on things."

  "Things? " Lander shot a glance at the blue door. "Brin! What am I supposed to do?"

  "Anything they want, Lander." Brin turned around briefly. "This could take some time. Keep Hanibaz and Mosi happy and keep them here." His eye narrowed. "If I don't have two mages to bid on the Yellow Silk when I get back, I'm not going to be happy."

  He disappeared. Lander swallowed. He drew his mouth up into a forced smile and stepped back into the Blue Room.

  CHAPTER 10

  Crown Alley seemed like a prosperous street, if not an especially busy one. The homes and shops that lined its twisted length were in good repair. Some of the shops even boasted signs with only words and no pictures, an indication that they expected a better class of literate clientele. Pretentious, thought Tycho. Crown Alley ended in high town, but it started in dockside.

  The pretention of the street had one tremendous benefit, though. The snow had been cleared away, shoveled up in great heaps. The walking was easier than pretty much anywhere in dockside. Drier, too-the temperature had risen above freezing again and in dockside, snow was turning into wide, slushy puddles. In Crown Alley, the melt water flowed into a carefully cleared gutter and gurgled its way down to the sea.

  Tycho stamped on the paving stones, knocking off the wet clumps that clung to carefully cleaned boots. His coat was clean, too, dirt and stains brushed away by Laera. His strilling had been left behind. He wore his best clothes, his dark curls had been brushed and dressed, and he had shaved again-two days in a row! All the way through middle town, young women and old had turned to watch him pass. Tycho had favored them all with a smile and the prettiest ones with a wink.

  Smiles and winks covered up a case of nerves as bad as he had ever had.

  He found the leatherworker's, shop. Four steps took him down into a shadowed stairwell opposite a heavy door-strangely heavy for a simple shop. There was an iron knocker set in the door's center. He lifted it and knocked sharply.

  A hatch in the door opened and eyes peered out. "Yes?" asked a woman's voice pleasantly. Tycho gave his best smile.

  "I've come about a saddle," he said. The eyes looked him over and disappeared as the hatch shut. A bolt was drawn and the door opened. The woman on the other side looked as tough as a piece of the leather that filled the cellar beyond her. She gestured him inside. Tycho entered, pausing just inside the door to let his eyes adjust from the brightness of the street. The woman hissed at him.

  "In or out, make up your mind."

  "In," Tycho replied and took another step forward. The woman shut the door behind him. A tall man appeared through an interior door as she returned to a workbench. He gave Tycho another looking over and pointed at the long, fabric-shrouded bundle the bard carried.

  "That a sword?" he asked. Tycho nodded. The tall man grunted. "Leave it here."

  "I can't. It's what I came about." He flipped back the cloth to reveal the hilt of Li's saber. "I understand the Hooded has an interest in exotic weapons." The tall man's eyes narrowed.

  "Who?"

  Tycho smiled at him. "No one," he said. "I'm just here about a saddle."

  "Sweet chum right you are." The tall man held out a meaty hand. "I'll carry the sword." Tycho hesitated for a moment, folded the cloth back over the saber, and handed it to him. The tall man hefted the weapon like an expert and grunted approvingly at the weight. "This way," he said, turning back to the inner door. Tycho followed him through. He held the door wide for a moment.

  "You don't often see an inside door this heavy," he commented.

  The tall man paused on a flight of stairs leading up. "No, you don't. But if you're lucky, you'll see it again on the way back out. Now close it." Tycho shrugged, pulled the door shut, and stomped up the stairs after him. They would be on the main floor of the house above the leatherworker's shop now, he guessed. The stairs, however, led into a short hallway with murder slots in one wall-he wouldn't have wanted to come up the stairs unannounced. A crossbow bolt fired through one of those slots would probably put a hole right through a person. The tall man led him past the slots confidently, though, and up to an open doorway. He stood aside and let Tycho go ahead of him.

  The doorway led into a large, bare room. The walls were undecorated plaster. Tycho could see the faint outlines where windows had been boarded up and plastered over. The room was lit by two lanterns that rested on its only piece of furniture: a heavy table. Seated on the other side of the table was a man in thick robes. A loose, baglike leather hood covered his face. Tycho nodded to him respectfully. "Olore, Hooded."

  There were three visible holes in the hood: two narrow ovals for the eyes and an even narrower slit over the mouth. Tycho saw dark eyes flicker through the ovals. The Hooded nodded to him in return and he caught the barest murmur of a whisper.

  "Olore, Tychoben Arisaenn." Standing beside the Hooded, a young woman spoke his words out loud. Just as Jacerryl had said: an interpreter. Tycho caught himself thinking of Magistrate Vanyan and his self-important aide, Dorth. Unlike Dorth, the young woman at the Hood-ed's side seemed like nothing more than a shadow. She stood perfectly still, moving only her lips and eyes. Her hair was pulled back tight, her skin was pale, and she wore clothes of exactly the same color as the Hooded's robes. She bore a striking resemblance to the leatherworker in the cellar shop. Tycho held back a shudder and focused on the Hooded.

  It wasn't so strange that the gang leader knew his name. A sharp man would know the names of many people. Tycho just hoped he didn't know too much more, especially about details of the past two days. He bowed again. "Jacerryl Dantakain sent me to you, Hooded," he said carefully, testing the waters.

  The Hooded made no visible reaction, but just murmured to the young wom
an at his side. "I know Jacerryl Dantakain," she said for him. "We've dealt together in the past."

  Simple, noncommittal. No mention of the beljurils, of course. Tycho wondered if the Hooded knew how Jacerryl had come by them. "Jacerryl told me you were a connoisseur of exotic weapons. The other day, he showed me a pair of wide swords he bought from you. I have something I think might interest you. Your man "

  He started to twist around, but the Hooded just shook his covered head. He raised a hand-gloved in the same leather as his hood-and gestured. The tall man came forward and set Li's saber on the table before him. The Hooded folded back the wrappings carefully. When the weapon was revealed, he nodded. "A Shou dao," he said. His young interpreter delivered the words so smoothly, it was easy to forget she was there. The Hooded ran a hand along the red leather of the scabbard, wrapped it around the brass-fitted grip, and pulled the weapon out. The blade flashed bright. Li had spent as much time in polishing the saber as Tycho had in getting dressed. The Hooded looked at it-appreciatively, Tycho thought-and glanced up at the tall man. "Get Tycho a chair."

  The tall man went out through another door and came back with a simple, straight-back chair that he thumped down in front of the Hooded's table. Tycho sat as the Hooded continued to examine the saber, looking at the blade, at the fittings on the hilt, at the condition of the grip. Finally, he nodded and murmured again to his interpreter. Even seated a little closer, Tycho still couldn't quite hear what he said, but the interpreter relayed, "Well used, but well taken care of. A fine weapon-and all the way from Shou Lung unless I'm wrong." She paused, the Hooded said something else, and she added, "Fifteen Sembian gold fivestars."

  Tycho's eyebrows rose. "Fifteen Sembian gold would be a fine price-if you were buying a common sword from a smith in Sembia." He leaned forward. "Thirty-five."

  The Hooded muttered something his interpreter didn't repeat, but Tycho could have made a good guess at what was said. The robed man considered the saber again. "This did come from farther than Sembia," he admitted. "Twenty."