The Yellow Silk - Don Bassingthwaite [104]
"Brin!" he roared with his most forceful voice. "You want the Yellow Silk, you bastard? Here it is!" He brought his arms together overhead, dipped one hand into the opposite sleeve-and sang, letting music ripple out of his throat.
His fingers emerged from his sleeve clutching a glowing thread. As he swept his arms down again, the thread pulled out-and out, thickening and lengthening. Its glow intensified, pulsing in time with his song. He drew back the arm holding the bolt.
Brin gaped and flinched. Flinging Veseene to the ground, he scrambled for safety as Tycho whipped his arm forward and hurled the bolt at the table. Radiance burst out, splashing around the sty. Brin shrieked, pigs squealed, and even Lander staggered, though he recovered with a single graceful step before Li could swing his dao.
Mosi Anu snorted derisively as the light faded. "An illusion."
Hanibaz Nassor shrugged. "Nicely done though. A good distraction."
Brin's shriek choked off. "What?" He whirled around. Halfway between the shelter and Veseene, Laera froze.
Tycho took a step forward, still singing desperately, and drew another thread from his sleeve. This time when he threw it, neither wizards nor Brin so much as flinched.
The explosion of heat and light from the real Yellow Silk knocked the wizards to the ground. It picked Brin up bodily and sent him tumbling through the muck. Tycho grinned as he raced across the sty. "That's right," he crowed. "A very good distraction!"
***
The force of the Silk's bolt sent Lander staggering again. This time Li was ready. He dropped his dao and hurled himself at the thug. A sharp blow knocked Lander's sword from his hand; another hammered into his injured hip. He gasped in pain. A third cracked hard across his face and sent him reeling.
It seemed supernatural grace, Li thought, wasn't quite as much good close up. "Didn't I tell you my reward was easier earned than taken, Lander?" he spat. He spun around and leaped, putting all of his weight into a kick.
His foot took Lander squarely in the chest and sent him flying into the pigs' shelter. The thug slammed into the back of it hard enough to make the whole structure shake arid groan. Something snapped and the roof sagged down. Any pigs that had lingered inside came running out with frightened squeals.
Some of them charged right over the huddled bundle that sprawled in the filth of the sty. Brin yelled, opened his eyes, and scrambled to his feet. Or tried to. Li scooped him up by his belt, swung him around twice, and flung him into the shelter after Lander. The hin screamed as he flew, twisting desperately in mid-air, but he still hit with a thump.
Li charged after him-but not into the shelter. Three posts across the front held up the rickety structure. Li hurled himself at the center one with a shout of "Hrah!" His shoulder hit the wood and cracked it in two. Inside the shelter, Brin yelped. Li whirled and slammed his foot against the nearest outside post. "Hrah!"
The post shattered. The shelter collapsed entirely. Under the roof, Li could hear Brin screeching and squealing like one of his own pigs. He spat on the ground and turned away.
Tycho's smile faded as he slid to a stop beside Laera and Veseene. His old mentor's chest was stained a deep red. "Blessed Lliira!" he groaned and slid his arms under Veseene's shaking body, lifting her into a sitting position. Laera had her gag off and was fumbling to cut her hands free. "Veseene! Are you all right?"
The old bard's eyes fluttered open. "Tycho?" she said distantly.
"I'm here."
She reached up and slapped him. "That was a rescue?" Her face trembled and she pulled him close. He gasped.
"Veseene, you're bleeding!" He pushed her back and looked at her chest. She looked down-and laughed.
"My tea, Tycho!" She reached under her shirt and pulled out a dampened pouch. Red oozed between her fingers. "It got wet when I fell!"
His mouth worked,