The Yellow Silk - Don Bassingthwaite [23]
"Tycho, calm down!" ordered Veseene. She looked at him irritably and went back to fanning reluctant flames under a kettle in the fireplace. "Did you expect him to give you a reward?"
Tycho flung himself down on his cot. "He could have at least said 'thank you.' He was like this last night, too- curt and tighter with words than a Daleman with coin, so full of himself that he doesn't have time for anyone else." Veseene sighed and turned all the way around.
"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 effectsof 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