The Yellow Silk - Book 4 by Don Bassingthwaite

Author:Don Bassingthwaite [Unknown]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
Publisher: Wizards of the Coast

CHAPTER 14

Sunset raked across the west end of Spandeliyon's waterfront, lending warmth to the light if not to the air. The snow might be melting, but it was still cold enough that every exhaled breath produced a little cloud of vapor and every inhaled breath sank a chill into Li's nose and throat.

He said nothing as they—he, Tycho, and Laera—walked. The streets were empty, as empty as they had been two nights ago when he first arrived. Then, however, they had been empty because of the hour and the beginning of a snow flurry. Now they were empty because of a storm of a different kind: the fire at the Wench's Ease had drawn everyone who might otherwise be on the street to either fight the blaze or watch it. Thick smoke still reached into the sky, though it had gotten no thicker and the biting smell of it no stronger. The fire was slowly coming under control.

If Brin had planned the fire to get everyone off

the streets as well as bring Tycho running to the scene, he couldn't have done a better job. The streets were so quiet that Li could hear the waves seething against the docks a short distance away.

As they approached the Eel, Laera stared at the sinuous form on the festhall's wall and shivered. Li touched her shoulder. "That's only a painting," he reminded her. "Don't be afraid of it. Be afraid of what we'll face."

She gulped. Tycho glowered at him.

"No more reassuring talks, Li. I don't think they're helping." The bard checked the strilling on his back and the dagger at his belt and glanced from Li to Laera. "Ready?"

Laera nodded. Li nodded, too. His fingers curled and uncurled around the scabbard of his dao. Tycho shoved against the Eel's painted door.

To Li's surprise, the Eel was as quiet within as the street without. No desperate drunkards, no brass-clad women, no sorrowful gamblers. The place had been cleared out entirely. There wasn't even any sign of Brin—not that the hin's absence came as that much of a surprise. Tycho had reasoned everything out before they left Bakers Lane. Brin will wait for us in the sty behind the Eel. It's where he always does his business.

One figure moved in the dim light of the empty festhall. The big bartender was at his post. He jerked his bald head toward the back of the Eel. Li drew a deep breath. So far it seemed Tycho was right. He hoped that the bard was wrong on his next guess, though.

He'll have us outnumbered. Lander will be there for sure, and likely Serg, Bor, Nico, and Ovel, too. And Black Scratch. With Brin, that will be seven against three.

Tycho had counted Laera to be polite, but not even

she believed him. It would be seven to two. A hard fight, hand-to-hand. They would need Tycho's magic—and the magic of the Yellow Silk. Tycho had protested the use of the ancient artifact—they were trying to protect it, weren't they?—but Li had argued him down.

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