The Yellow Silk - Don Bassingthwaite [65]
He was smiling. He was happy.
Lander swallowed. "Uhh… Brin?"
"Something worrying you, Lander?" Brin sauntered over to a comfortable chair and sprawled across it. He nodded sharply to Bor. "Get me a mug of ale." Bor dashed away, grateful for the moment of escape. Brin's gaze settled on Lander again. "You should be worried. That was clumsy."
Lander held back the observation that Brin had been no more successful himself. "Tycho said something about knowing where the beljurils are, Brin. He has to bring them to us tomorrow. We can get him and the Shou then."
"After tonight, J wouldn't bring anything to me." The halfling waved his hand. "Never mind Tycho and the beljurils. I want Kuang Li Chien."
"Why?" grunted Ovel.
Brin fixed him with a harsh stare. "Because I do." His fingers flicked and suddenly a knife stood between them. "Reason enough?" Ovel swallowed and nodded. A grin spread across Brin's face and he sat up straight. "We'll keep looking for Tycho and Li Chien tomorrow morning- and deal with the Wench's Ease, too. More important, I'm going to need messages waiting at three places uptown first thing in the morning."
"Where and who for?" asked Lander.
Brin held up a pinky finger. "Hanibaz Nassor at his home in Burned Street." Ring finger. "Mosi Anu at the Sil-verbell Inn." Middle finger. "Thaedra Korideion at Nelka Marsk's home near the citadel."
Lander said nothing. Brin raised an eyebrow as if daring him to comment, and after a moment Lander could hold back no more. "Two Red Wizards and a Chessentan mage," he said softly. "The same customers you were going to sell the beljurils to."
"Exactly." Bor came brushing through the curtains and handed Brin a mug of ale that was only slightly smaller than his head. The halfling raised it to Lander. "I'm going to offer them the chance to bid on something even better than beljurils. Something completely unique, very kindly brought west by Kuang Li Chien. An artifact of Shou Lung that contains the power of the sun itself-" Brin gave a calculating grin so cold it made Lander shiver. "-the Yellow Silk of Kuang!"
CHAPTER 9
Something not quite right brought Li's eyes open sharply. White light filtered into the shed through the gap under the roof-the light of early morning reflected off new snow. Around the sound of Tycho's snoring, he could hear the ocean and the wooden creak of boats at their moorings, the sounds of a port coming to life.
He could hear the heavy tramp of feet in new snow, a curse on the ocean weather, the slap of flesh on flesh as someone took a sharp cuffing.
The sounds of men about no good business.
He turned swiftly, reaching out and clamping a hand over Tycho's nose and mouth. The bard's eyes shot open. He sucked air against Li's palm and might have struck out if Li hadn't grabbed his hand.
"What was that?" came a voice from outside.
"Nothing, Bor. Nico just broke wind."
The second voice was Lander's. Tycho froze and his eyes went wide. Li took his hand away. For a moment, they both lay very still, listening. "Damn snow."
"For the last time, keep your mouth shut. You'll draw the Bitch Queen's ire!"
The sound of another cuffing and a whining grunt of pain. Serg's voice. "Damn sailor superstitions! I'm not cursing the sea. I'm cursing the snow!"
"Sea, sea weather-same thing."
"I'm no sailor!"
"I guess you've got no plans to ever go anywhere on a boat, then, hey?"
The bickering voices drew close to the shed. Underneath them, Li could make out another sound: a kind of wet snuffling accompanied by heavy breathing. Tycho went pale. Li gave the bard a puzzled look. Tycho pushed the end of his nose up and crinkled his face in imitation of a pig.
Of Black Scratch. Lander had the boar with him. In parts of Shou Lung, some types of pigs were used like dogs to sniff out things. Brin must have set Black Scratch to the same task. Li swallowed and silently blessed the snow as enthusiastically as Serg cursed it.
The snuffling sound receded, though the voices were still close. Li rose silently and stepped up