The Yellow Silk - Don Bassingthwaite [52]
Veseene didn't move, didn't even blink.
"Lander," said Brin over his shoulder, "it's freezing cold in here. Stoke up the fire nice and hot. Give us some comfort."
Lander nodded and reached into the other room, scooping up sticks and split logs. Half the stored wood was barely an armful. He piled it on the fire, poking at the glowing coals to stir them up. As the flames began to mount, Veseene finally flinched. "That's enough," she said. "You'll use up our supply."
"A little more, Lander. My nose is still cold." Brin rubbed his fingers together and grinned at Veseene. "We'll have it nice and warm for you shortly. Old bones shouldn't be cold, you know!"
"I'm warm enough." Lander felt Veseene's eyes follow him as he stacked on more wood. The fire was pouring out heat now-an absolute waste. He stood to go back to the other room for more wood. Panic flickered in Veseene's eyes. "That's enough, Lander!"
Her voice cracked and bubbled on his name. Her hands-and arms and legs-were trembling. She reached down and tried to tug a blanket over herself. Brin's small hand snapped forward and ripped it away from her. Veseene gasped, her shaking limbs jerking together like the tentacles of a squid poked with a stick. Brin glared at her. "I want Tycho and the Shou man, Kuang Li Chien," he snarled. "Where are they?"
Veseene was silent for a moment then she asked stubbornly, "Why?"
"Why? Why?" Brin jumped up on top of the stool and whirled the blanket around himself. "You shouldn't be asking, Veseene! You should be answering!" He hunched his body up and hobbled in a little circle. "Can't sing anymore, can you? Can't play, can't cast a spell. The lark's in a cage, but for some reason she still thinks she's flying free."
There was a tea box sitting on top of a low table. Brin unfurled the blanket from his body and snapped it sharply, like a whip. The end of it cracked against the tea box and sent it flying off the table. It smashed into the fireplace. Sparks flew. The dry wood charred and burst into flame almost instantly. A sweet-sharp smell drifted out into the room. Brin turned back to Veseene.
"Where are they? " His voice was tight and grating, like steel on a whetstone.
"I don't know!" The trembling in Veseene's limbs was severe now. Her fingers were knotted around themselves, her hands clutched up tight against her chest. Her voice was quavering. "I haven't seen either of them since this morning."
"Lander saw them together at twilight. Do you know what they're up to?"
Veseene shook her head, a barely controlled motion that could almost have been just another twitch. There was fear in her eyes, though. Lander snorted. "She doesn't know, Brin. Look at her."
The halfling's eye narrowed. He squatted down on the stool and stared at Veseene. The old bard stared back, a bird hypnotized by a snake. They stayed like that for a long moment before Brin flicked the blanket back at her and stepped down from the stool. He strode across the room, pulled open the door and walked out without another word.
Lander spared a last look at Veseene. She had the blanket clutched to her. "We'll find them," he told her. "If we don't, we'll be back."
He put his back to her and strode confidently after Brin. He didn't bother to close the door after himself.
Veseene waited until she heard the door at the bottom of the stairs open and close before she scrambled up-as hastily as she could manage-and pushed the door of their rooms closed. Can't sing, can't play, can't cast a spell. "Ah," she sighed to herself, "but I can still give a performance, Brin."
It wasn't just the palsy that made her hand shake as she slid home the bolt on the door, though. She leaned against the door for a moment before making her way back to the couch with slow, careful steps. She sat down and watched the wood in the fireplace burn.
Atenday's carefully hoarded supply, she thought, gone in minutes. Damn Lander! Damn Brin!
Blessed Lliira, it is warm,