The Yellow Silk - Don Bassingthwaite [38]
"I had three fine rubies sewn into the lining of my coat," said Li. "I thought they would be safe. I underestimated the desperation of thieves in Spandeliyon."
Suddenly the pie was dry in Tycho's mouth. "Three rubies?"
"I would have given one as a reward last night. To you, Tycho, I would give all three."
Fingers shaking, Tycho reached for his pouch and pulled out one of the gold coins Mard had given him, hesitated for a moment, and pulled out the second as well. Hiding them with his palm, he slid them across the table to Li. "Lander," he said as casually as he could manage, "usually sells stolen goods to a fence named Giras." He pointed. "You'll find his shop three streets that way and two back toward dockside. Go see if he still has your coat."
Li's eyes narrowed. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"
"You didn't ask," said Tycho quickly, "and we were talking about other things. I would have suggested it anyway, though." Li's expression conveyed disbelief. "Really!" Tycho protested. "Remember, I said I'd help you before you said anything about a reward."
Li grunted. "That's true." He nodded. "All right." /'Besides, the clothes you're wearing now stink." Tycho stood up and slapped payment for their food onto the table-top. "Look," he told Li. "You go get your coat back-and anything else you can, too." He dredged his pouch for any remaining coins and came up with a scant handful of copper and silver. He gave them all to Li. "Try to be discrete about it. Then go back to the Wench's Ease and wait for me. I'll meet you there later with news."
Li stood up as well. "Thank you, Tycho."
"Thank me when you've had your talk with Brin, Li."
They left the pie shop and Tycho made sure Li got started in the right direction before turning and going the other way. Once the Shou was out of sight, though, he swiftly changed direction and headed down toward dock-side, whistling as he walked.
Three rubies for a conversation. That was a very good deal. He tapped the tin tube tucked into his coat. It was high time to deliver the beljurils to their waiting-and not especially patient-new owner.
He was even still whistling when he walked through the door of the Eel.
Lander choked as his spade broke through the icy crust and exposed another soft patch of slowly decaying pig dung. He gasped against the stench and levered the spadeful of manure up and into his wheelbarrow. The relief as the load slid off was like a small blessing; the spade seemed to rise up an extra foot on its own. Lander swung it back to the ground, letting the blade bang down into the filth, and leaned for a moment against the handle.
"Did I tell you to take a break, Lander?" Brin's rich voice was punctuated by the hiss of his switch through the air. Lander stifled a groan and scraped up another load of manure. As Brin's punishments went, mucking out his sty was one of the more pleasant. That didn't mean Lander liked it. His arms, shoulders, and back burned. He was sweating like… well, like a pig. In spite of the cold, his mantle and outer shirt were flung across Brin's table, draped over the damn Shou saber. He knew he should have sold it to Giras! What had keeping it gotten him? A frantic search through dockside in the middle of the night. Another search this morning, combing the streets all the way up into middle town. He'd even made contact with the usual bodysnatchers, unpleasant specimens who would be better off dead themselves. Even they hadn't seen anything of Li Chien's body though. And Brin had ordered him to not bring his men in on the search. Lander knew what that meant: the halfling wanted to keep his interest in the Shou quiet.
Since early afternoon, however, he'd been shoveling manure. Brin might appreciate hard work, but he still didn't like failure. Lander snuck a look over his shoulder. Brin was sitting on the table again, a tankard of the Eel's ale beside him and his switch in his hand. He was tickling Black Scratch under the chin. The boar ignored him and just sat like some weird beast-king, surveying