The Yellow Silk - Don Bassingthwaite [92]
Staso glowered. "That's insane."
"No one has accused Brin of sanity lately."
"I hope he's sane enough to answer one question for me," growled Li. His hand tightened on the sword hilt. "You tell a good story," he told Staso, "and all I can do is apologize for what Yu Mao did. But I still need to know what happened to him."
The scarred man shook his head. "I only know what I saw that last night on Sow and what I've heard since-or what I haven't heard. There's been no word of Yu Mao, alive or dead."
Breath hissed between Li's teeth, and he caught Tycho's eye. The bard grimaced and Li knew that they were thinking the same thing: they had answers, but not enough.
They still needed to go back to Brin.
Li looked back to Staso and flicked the sword tip a little closer to him. "The beljurils that Jacerryl Dantakain sold you yesterday. Where are they?"
Staso tipped his head toward a big chest in the corner of the room. Tycho scrambled for it, but Li stopped him with a hiss. He glanced at Staso's interpreter. "Let her open it,", he suggested.
The young woman's eyes, wide from the telling of her master's tale, shrank and she shook her head sharply. Li slipped the sword up against Staso's neck. "If the chest is trapped," he said, "you should tell her how to disarm it." Staso's mouth twisted and he said something softly to the young woman. She nodded desperately. Tycho freed her from her silken bonds and, one hand near his dagger, led her to the chest. Trembling fingers touched and slid, not along the obvious latch, but across the sides of the chest's lid. Hidden catches clicked. Hands still shaking slightly, the young woman twisted the front latch and lifted the lid.
Nothing happened. She gasped and relaxed, deep breaths wracking her body, but she reached inside just deep enough to produce a small velvet bag. Tycho glanced into the chest as well. "Your dao is here, too, Li!" He snatched out the weapon and clipped it awkwardly to his belt. "Bind me, there's a lot of other-"
"Don't take anything else, Tycho. We're not the thieves here."
The bard swore softly, but stepped away from the chest, prodding Staso's young woman ahead of him. He tugged open the bag and spilled a tiny handful of gems into his palm. His face lit up. "They're all here."
"Good." Li began to rise.
A sudden yell from the stairs below interrupted him. "Hooded! Hooded!" Footsteps started up.
Li froze, sword still at Staso's neck. Tycho thought faster than he did. He spun the young woman around to face the stairs. "Stop him!" he hissed.
Startled, she spat out imperiously, "Don't come up!" Tycho prodded her and she added, "What is it?"
The unseen man on the stairs seemed taken aback by the orders from above. "I… I just came in with news and found the others trapped! It was, Tycho-he must have escaped. Are you all right?"
Tycho's gaze darted to Li. The Shou grimaced. It had only been a matter of time! Tycho whispered hastily to Staso's interpreter. "I'm fine!" she called down. Her eyes were wide with shock and fear, and it seemed she relayed Tycho's words purely out of instinct. "Tycho must have gotten out!"
"Dilla says she didn't see him or his Shou friend come through the shop."
Tycho clenched his jaw. "Li?" he hissed.
"Li?" Staso's interpreter repeated out loud.
"Hooded?" asked the man on the stairs. Tycho winced and poked the young woman. She squeaked.
"Stall him!" Li said softly. He grabbed Staso's fallen hood with his free hand and tossed it to the scarred man. "Get that back on." At the stairs, Tycho whispered to the young woman-she called down to the man below to deliver his news.
The answer that came back wasn't good. "There's fire in dockside. A tavern called the Wench's Ease."
Tycho stiffened. Li's stomach tightened. An accident? It