The Yellow Silk - Don Bassingthwaite [43]
"I hope not. Because if Tycho comes to harm, I'll come after you." She stopped. "Every peach has a stone, Li. I may be old, but I'm tough. I drink wasp venom for fun."
"I understand, honored mother," Li said politely. Veseene raised an eyebrow.
"You don't believe me." She pointed above her head. Li glanced up. There was a sign there, words he couldn't understand written out in western script. He recognized the picture that went with them though. A bundle of herbs beside a mortar and pestle. An herbalist's shop. "Come inside with me," said Veseene.
She drew him through a door and up a flight of narrow stairs. The shop was at the top of them, a dim, fragrant space with crock-lined walls and dry, leafy bundles hanging from the rafters. A slender, dusk-skinned woman with long black hair and eyes rimmed with dark paint looked up from a worktable, first at Veseene and, with a lingering glance, at Li. Veseene greeted her. "Olore, Sephera. I'm here for my tea."
The woman nodded and rose. She went around the room, selecting crocks and jars from the wall. When she had a collection of half a dozen, she returned to her table and began mixing the contents of each together in a mortar. "Sephera," said Veseene, "my friend here was wondering what went into my tea."
"Things to energize muscles made weak and quicken nerves made dull," said Sephera. Her voice was soft, with a resonant, chanting quality. "Laspar needles and pepper, blackroot and winterberry seeds." She took two spoonfuls of rust-colored flakes from a small jar. "Redflower leaves." The last jar was tightly sealed with waxed cloth and Sephera held it at arm's length as she opened it. She reached inside with thin wooden tongs and removed a pale amber lump, holding it up for Li to see. It was only about the size of the tip of his smallest finger. "The crystallized venom of a giant wasp," said Sephera. She added it to the mortar, re-sealed the jar, took up a pestle, and gently began to crush the assembled ingredients.
Li looked at Veseene. The old woman shrugged. "All right," she said, "maybe I don't drink it for fun." She gave Li a harsh look. "You understand though?"
He bent at the waist, bowing to her. "You've made your point."
"Tycho is family to me, Li. I'll do anything to protect him."
"Believe me, Veseene," said Li, "I understand the importance of protecting family." Veseene looked at him curiously, her head tilted again. Li didn't return her gaze. "Do you want to come with me to meet Tycho?"
She shook her head. "I'll have a cup of tea with Sephera then go home. Tell Tycho we talked, though." She nodded toward the stairs. "Go back to the last intersection and follow that street toward dockside. It will take you right to the Wench's Ease."
Li bowed again. "Thank you," he said.
"Don't get Tycho in more trouble than he gets himself," Veseene replied. "That will be thanks enough."
The sun was low in the west. The last of the day was kissing the rooftops of Spandeliyon and the underbellies of thick clouds moving in low from the east. There would be more snow overnight. Thick, wet snow. Tycho knew it with the instincts of someone raised beside the sea. The temperature of the air was hardly dropping at all. It might even have been getting a little bit warmer, but he couldn't really be certain of that. He simply felt cold all over.
His boots sent slush and muck splattering up with every long, running stride. As he rounded a corner, the slick surface of the street betrayed him and sent him skidding in a wide arc, arms flailing as he fought to keep his balance. A few people stared at him. Tycho barely noticed. One thought kept flowing through his mind.
Bind me, bind me, bind me, bind me…
He kept running. He couldn't get the vision of Black Scratch's mad yellow eyes out of his head.
The sight of the Wench's Ease was a blessing. Tycho slid to a stop, clutching at the great, bare tree in the yard outside the tavern for support. He shrugged out of the strap that held his strilling,