The Yellow Silk - Don Bassingthwaite [25]
"Tycho was just telling me about his strilling, uncle," added Laera.
Jacerryl Dantakain raised an eyebrow in polite disbelief. "Was he now?" His eye fell on the abandoned harp then darted back to Laera. She flushed and returned the strilling to the table. Jacerryl nodded. "It was hard enough to talk my brother into letting you take music lessons at all," he said. "You might want to keep your attention focused on the harp. It's a far more suitable instrument for a young lady than something vulgar like a screeching strilling."
"Vulgar?" Tycho felt himself flush as well. "Screeching?
A strilling has more expression than any tinkling, bloody harp. There's nothing vulgar-"
"The harp," said Jacerryl coolly, "is the only thing my brother wants you teaching Laera. The only thing. Could I have a word with you in private?" He gestured for Tycho to follow him and went back out through the doors. Tycho glanced at Laera. She grimaced and stuck out her tongue at her uncle's back then winked at Tycho. He grinned but quickly suppressed it and went after Jacerryl.
The library opened off the rather grand entrance hall of the Dantakain house, a tall space of light and great pots sporting arrangements of evergreen boughs in pale imitation of summer greenery. Jacerryl said nothing as he closed the library doors behind them and nodded Tycho into the shadow of one of the potted arrangements. "I mean that, you know," he whispered. "I got you this job by assuring Mard that you were completely trustworthy and nothing untoward would happen with Laera."
"You said you wanted her taught worldly manners," Tycho shot back. "And she's going to come off as a backwater bumpkin if she doesn't know how to flirt. All she knew before I started teaching her she had learned from bad ballads and silly tales of chivalry." He jerked his head toward the library's closed doors. "She's got talent, but she just tried to play The Pirate King as if it were a romance!"
Jacerryl's eyes went wide. He just barely managed to turn a chuckle into an indignant cough. Tycho crossed his arms and gave him a glare. "I didn't teach her that."
"I don't think you did." Jacerryl wiped his eyes. "You better not let Mard catch you giving Laera such personal instruction, though. He's not a forgiving soul."
"Trust me, I won't. Don't worry, I have everything with Laera completely under control. Nothing will get out of hand. This job has too many benefits." Tycho looked Jacerryl over. "You didn't bring me out here just to talk to me, did you?"
Jacerryl reached inside the doublet that he wore and pulled out a small tin tube about a handspan in length. The top of it was capped with a plug; a green cord wrapped lengthwise around the whole tube held it firmly in place. "For delivery to our mutual friend," he said quietly. "As soon as possible. I believe he has buyers already waiting."
"What's inside?" Tycho took the tube and gave it a very gentle shake. A faint rattle came from within. ' "Beljurils," Jacerryl said. "All the way from Calimshan."
Tycho blinked and pressed his lips together, impressed. Beljurils were deep water-green gems, possessed of their own natural winking light. He had once seen a necklace of them, a fantastic flashing collar, at a ball in the Ches-sentan city of Cimbar. They were stunningly precious. Just one could buy half a block of the sagging buildings in dockside-or a grand home in a better part of Spandeliyon. There had to be several in the tube. A fortune! And for his role in delivering them, Tycho would receive only five coins of gold.
His life wouldn't be worth a shaved penny if he tried to hold even one jewel back.
He undid the knot on the cord and eased the plug out. A twist of silk was wadded into the tube. Tycho shook it out and unfolded it carefully. Eight gems gleamed at him. He swallowed. "Is that the right number?" he asked Jacerryl. The other man nodded. Tycho swallowed again and wrapped the gems back up, returning the silk to the tube, replacing the cap,