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"Take her as an apprentice or send her back to her father, the choice is yours just as much as it is hers. I didn't follow you to force a decision on that. You're right-you've got other things to deal with right now. What's your plan for getting the beljurils away from the Hooded?"

"I hadn't gotten that far yet," muttered Tycho. He kicked his chest. The lid fell shut with a bang. "I'll think of something, though."

"Good," said Veseene. "May I make a suggestion? There's a spell I know-"

Tycho rounded on her instantly. "A spell? Veseene, I remember what Sephera said. Increasing your dose of the tea will make it less effective later. It's not worth it for one spell!" Veseene smiled and reached up. Tycho braced himself for another slap, but she just patted his cheek.

"Tycho, I care about you. Sometimes you really are an idiot, but I'll do whatever I can to pull you out of your messes. I've been doing it for years and that's never going to change." She patted his cheek again-and slapped him a third time. "If you listen to anything I tell you today, listen to this: you need help! Stop fussing and take it!"

Tycho stared at her and smiled. "When did you get so cranky, Veseene?"

"It started when I took an apprentice." She raised her voice. "Someone put the kettle on the fire!"

***

Lander walked through the back door of the Eel-behind him, the pigs of Brin's sty squealed with mingled excitement and fear as Black Scratch made his return- and into the festhall's main room. Even in the middle of the morning, the Eel had a few patrons burying faces in mugs. Lander walked up to the day shift bartender, a man as weedy as his nighttime counterpart was big. "Where's Brin?" he asked wearily.

"Blue Room," said the man tersely. "With visitors."

Visitors. Lander drew a deep breath, walked across the main room to a blue-painted door, and stepped through into the best of the Eel's private rooms. Four figures turned to look at him. Brin was the only one who looked pleased to see him. Lander closed the door softly behind himself and took stock of the three mages who sat listening to the halfling's description of the Yellow Silk of Kuang.

Mosi Anu looked exactly like everyone's expectation of a Red Wizard of Thay: tall, lean, and hawklike, shaved smooth, and swathed in robes of brilliant red. Tattoos literally crawled across his scalp. Every time Lander looked away or even blinked, he had the uncomfortable feeling that the tattoos had shifted. Mosi only occasionally visited Spandeliyon, but when he did it was always to deal with Brin. He sat closest to the halfling, listening intently to his every word.

Thaedra Korideion sat on the opposite side of the room. She was tall and thin as well, but unlike the Red Wizard, she carried herself with a graceful elegance that commanded attention. The first time Lander had met her, he had fallen into an easy, obedient awe in her presence. Brin had poked him with a knife just to rouse him. Thaedra was an enchantress-Brin said that at her home in Chessenta, she was served by a small army, all slaves to her will and beauty. Lander had kept his distance from her ever since.

The third mage… Lander still had difficulty believing that Hanibaz Nassor was a mage, let alone a Red Wizard. Hanibaz was a hefty, jovial sort who liked an evening at the Eel. His hair was thick, his only visible tattoos were on his arms like any number of sailors, and the only red about him was a wide sash over his belly. Most of Spandeliyon had no idea he was a Red Wizard and word was that Hanibaz liked it that way because he was actually a Thayan spy. He sat farthest from Brin, sprawled out in his chair with a mug of ale close to hand.

Of the three, Lander trusted him the least. As usual, he was the first one to speak when Brin finished. "I'm intrigued," he said. "The Silk would be a great curiosity if nothing else." Hooked like a fish, Lander thought. Hanibaz's words might have been casual, but his left hand was fidgeting,