The Yellow Silk - Don Bassingthwaite [62]
Tycho slapped her. "You want the road? This is the road. There's no glamor in it." He spun her around sharply. "Go that way. It will take you to a guard station. The guards will see you home. Now run!" He gave her a shove. She stumbled a few steps and looked back. "I said, go! Go!"
Laera wailed again and fled. Tycho didn't look after her. He grabbed Li and pulled him off into the shadows in another direction.
***
Tycho slid the blade of his dagger down the gap between two boards until he felt it catch slightly. He pressed to the side and a loose section of board on the right popped free. In the cavity behind it was a key. Tycho took it, replaced the board, and slipped around to the door of the net shed. Li was looking up at the shack doubtfully. "No one wiH find us here?"
"As long as we're quiet, no. The owners died recently." Tycho slid the key into the lock on the door and turned it. The lock gave way with a faint squeal. Li winced.
"How recently?"
"Did you see the body hanging on the tree outside the Ease last night?" The Shou nodded. "That was one of them." He pushed open the door and ushered Li inside, stepped through himself, and closed the door behind them. A whisper of song put a soft magical glow around the key. He flashed it around briefly so Li could see their surroundings. Nets in need of mending. The tools to do it. Lines and reels. Coils of rope. Pitch and caulking. All the equipment fishing folk might need. The shed wasn't big, two paces in one direction, maybe four in another. It was cold-a gap ran across the top of the front and back walls just below the roof line so air could flow through and dry the nets. A tight mesh tacked over it kept out birds and vermin. The water of the Sea of Fallen Stars was close; the sound of the surf was constant. Tycho went to the chest where Ardo and Ton had kept a stash of blankets, water, and smoked fish. The water and blankets he shared out with Li. The fish he left. He couldn't quite handle the thought of eating at the moment. Shielding the glowing key so that only a trace of light leaked through, he dropped down onto a coil of rope and looked hard at Li.
"You can't tell me you're just a clerk now," he said. "I've never seen a clerk fight like that. What exactly does the Department of Lost Treasures do?"
Li shrugged off the small armory of weapons that he wore or carried-scimitar, butterfly swords, and saber fell onto a folded net. He retrieved the saber, slid it out of the scabbard, and held it up in the light to inspect the blade. "The Emperor formed the Department of Lost Treasures as part of an effort to reclaim knowledge and great works lost by the more foolish of his imperial predecessors over the centuries. The Department of Lost Treasures searches out the fabulous artifacts and relics of old."
Tycho's look turned to open-mouthed wonder. "Bind me!" he spat. "You're a treasure hunter?" Li shot him a scowl.
"I'm not a treasure hunter." He thrust the saber back into its scabbard. "My responsibility is to look after the more senior clerks and scholars and keep them safe."›
"And those bolts of light? You're not a mage, too, are you?"
Li hesitated then opened his shirt and slipped his left arm free. The wound that Lander had inflicted on him was a sharp red line across his forearm, but twisted around his arm above the bicep was the dirty old rag Tycho had noticed before. The bard's eyes narrowed. "When I healed you last night, I tried to look at that to see if there was another wound underneath. Even half-unconscious, you fought back like it was the most important thing in the world." He leaned forward, taking a closer look at the rag.
In spite of its filthy and worn condition, it was clear that it had once been a piece of very fine silk. "What is it? A lost treasure from your department?"
"It has never been lost. It's a family heirloom entrusted to me by my father to help me in my search for Yu Mao." Li tugged at one edge of the rag, pulling free a clean fold. Tycho