He reached out and grabbed Tycho's hand, thrusting the Silk into it and folding his fingers around it. Tycho almost gasped-the Yellow Silk was warm! Just holding it, he could feel the energy within the woven threads, at once both as gentle and as intense as the sun itself, the pride of an old and honest family. He looked down at the precious, wondrous artifact in his hand-and up, a fierce smile on his face.
'Bind me,' he said, 'I've had just about enough of Brin. He's not going to get his hands on this and he's not going to get away with threatening Veseene.' He turned around and reached up above the fireplace with his free hand to pull down his strilling. 'If he wants a song, he's got one.'
CHAPTER 14
Sunset raked across the west end of Spandeliyon's waterfront, lending warmth to the light if not to the air. The snow might be melting, but it was still cold enough that every exhaled breath produced a little cloud of vapor and every inhaled breath sank a chill into Li's nose and throat.
He said nothing as they-he, Tycho, and Laera-walked. The streets were empty, as empty as they had been two nights ago when he first arrived. Then, however, they had been empty because of the hour and the beginning of a snow flurry. Now they were empty because of a storm of a different kind: the fire at the Wench's Ease had drawn everyone who might otherwise be on the street to either fight the blaze or watch it. Thick smoke still reached into the sky, though it had gotten no thicker and the biting smell of it no stronger. The fire was slowly coming under control.
If Brin had planned the fire to get everyone off the streets as well as bring Tycho running to the scene, he couldn't have done a better job. The streets were so quiet that Li could hear the waves seething against the docks a short distance away.
As they approached the Eel, Laera stared at the sinuous form on the festhall's wall and shivered. Li touched her shoulder. 'That's only a painting,' he reminded her. 'Don't be afraid of it. Be afraid of what we'll face.'
She gulped. Tycho glowered at him.
'No more reassuring talks, Li. I don't think they're helping.' The bard checked the strilling on his back and the dagger at his belt and glanced from Li to Laera. 'Ready?'
Laera nodded. Li nodded, too. His fingers curled and uncurled around the scabbard of his dao. Tycho shoved against the Eel's painted door.
To Li's surprise, the Eel was as quiet within as the street without. No desperate drunkards, no brass-clad women, no sorrowful gamblers. The place had been cleared out entirely. There wasn't even any sign of Brin-not that the hin's absence came as that much of a surprise. Tycho had reasoned everything out before they left Bakers Lane. Brin will wait for us in the sty behind the Eel. It's where he always does his business.
One figure moved in the dim light of the empty festhall. The big bartender was at his post. He jerked his bald head toward the back of the Eel. Li drew a deep breath. So far it seemed Tycho was right. He hoped that the bard was wrong on his next guess, though.
He'll have us outnumbered. Lander will be there for sure, and likely Serg, Bor, Nico, and Ovel, too. And Black Scratch. With Brin, that will be seven against three.
Tycho had counted Laera to be polite, but not even she believed him. It would be seven to two. A hard fight, hand-to-hand. They would need Tycho's magic-and the magic of the Yellow Silk. Tycho had protested the use of the ancient artifact-they were trying to protect it, weren't they? — but Li had argued him down. His father had entrusted him with the Silk for use in desperate situations. What was this situation if not desperate?
Better to use the Silk than surrender it without a fight, he thought as well, especially when the Silk wasn't the only thing at stake. Tycho hadn't been able to guess at Veseene's condition or circumstances in Brin's grasp.
Li's fingers curled against his dao again. He needed Brin to answer one question for him. And after that…
'Li?' Tycho nudged him. 'Are you all right?'
'I'm almost done here, Tycho.' He looked down at the bard. 'One way or the other, I'll be done. I'll have an answer about Yu Mao. If Brin says he's dead, I can go back to Keelung. If Brin says he's alive somewhere else, I'll be leaving Spandeliyon to find him.'
'And if Brin kills us before he gives you an answer?' Tycho asked in Shou.
Li glanced at Laera, but of course the young woman didn't understand the language. His mouth twitched in a grim smile. 'I thought you said no more reassuring talks?' he said to Tycho.
'You're not scared?'
'Witless,' said Li, quoting Tycho's own words back at him. 'It's the only smart way.' He held out his hand in the Western manner. 'If Brin kills us, Tycho, then I'm glad to have met you.'
Tycho took his hand and bowed over it.
One of the curtains that had previously been drawn at the festhall's rear was pulled aside to reveal a door of rough, black-painted wood. Tycho paused. 'Here we go,' he said, and opened it. The smell of pigs washed over them, almost suffocating in its strength. Li followed Tycho through the door and into Brin's infamous sty.
Tycho had described it perfectly. The shadowed alley behind the Eel was wide-as wide as a house. Perhaps five paces to the right, it ended in a tall plank fence. An equal distance to the left was a lower, more open fence of rails. Beyond, the alley twisted back out to the street. A heap of wet straw slumped against the wall of the Eel on the rail fence's far side; against the fence and inside the sty were a long trough and a stout table and bench. At the back of the sty, a low roofed shelter had been built against the wall of the neighboring building. Perhaps a dozen pigs were huddled within, all of them staring out with a frightened intensity.
Brin sat on the table with Veseene, a gag in her mouth and her hands loosely bound, beside him. He held a sharp dagger in his right hand. His left rested on the head of Black Scratch. The boar sat like an angry guard dog beside the table, barely restrained by his master's touch. Lander, Nico, and Serg stood arrayed between the table and the door.
They weren't alone. Against the plank fence lounged five rough-looking men. All armed. Beyond the rail fence stood two other men, one in red robes, the other in normal clothes but wearing confident power like a cloak. Wizards? Li's breath hissed out. His fingers curled against the scabbard one final time then stayed still.
They had expected to be outnumbered, but not like this. 'Tycho…' Li murmured.
Brin nodded and Li caught sudden movement out of the corners of his eyes as Bor and Ovel stepped away from the wall behind them. Ovel reached out and shoved the door closed. Laera squeaked in alarm.
'Stick to the plan,' Tycho whispered back, but his voice was thin. Li fought to keep a wince off his face. Their plan was meant for seven, not thirteen.
Did they have another choice now? He glanced around, taking careful note of where their opponents stood and trying to guess how they might move, as Tycho stepped forward. 'Olore, Brin,' the bard called. 'You didn't mention that there'd be such an audience.'
'But you still brought the full chorus.' Brin looked at Laera with a hungry leer and she shrank back. 'Dantakain's daughter. Mard's been tearing up the town looking for her and you had her the whole time.'
'I don't have her,' said Tycho sharply. '/ don't take hostages.'
Brin smiled. 'Why, neither do I. Is it wrong to invite people around for some conversation?' He pricked Ve- seene with the dagger and the old woman hissed. Her face was pale and she was shaking badly, though Li couldn't tell whether that was because of her palsy or the cold. Above her gag, however, her faded blue eyes flashed angrily-at them. If she'd been able to talk, Li guessed, she would be berating them for walking into so obvious a trap.
Tycho's eyes narrowed. 'Take the gag out of her mouth. Let me talk to her.'
'I don't think so,' said Brin. His gaze shifted between Tycho and Li. 'Do you have the Yellow Silk of Kuang? '
Tycho reached into a pocket of his coat. It seemed as if half the people gathered-but especially Brin and the two wizards-leaned forward in anticipation. Li tensed. Tycho, however, produced only a small velvet bag. 'The beljurils, Brin,' he said, spilling the winking gems into his hand.
'You know it was Jacerryl who stole them. He sold them. I got them back.' He tipped them back into the bag and held it out. 'How about you take them and we part ways? All square?'
