"… fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty." Silver flashed in the candlelight as Giras counted. He looked up and blinked eyes still rheumy from having been woken in the middle of the night. "You're sure you don't want to part with that saber? I know someone who would pay very well for it."
"I'm keeping it." Lander swept a healthy pile of coins off Giras's counter and into his pouch. He picked up the Shou curved saber-back inside its sheath once more-and saluted the fence with it. "I've taken a fancy to it."
Giras shrugged. "Suit yourself. If you change your mind, though, bring it back. Just not so late next time."
"You sleep like you were an honest man, Giras."
Lander left the shop. The snow had stopped and the moon was peeking through the clouds, its light turning the fresh snow bright. Nico, Ovel, Bor, and Serg were waiting for him. They clustered around as soon as he appeared. "How much did you get?" Bor demanded.
"Fifty," lied Lander.
"Fifty?" Bor made a face. "That's only…" Lander saw his fingers move as he counted. "Ten each."
"Eight," Lander said. "Two of every ten to Brin." There were grumbles all around. Lander swept his men with a hard glare. "You'd rather get nothing? Or maybe you want to hold back on Brin and count your fingers when he's done with you?" He pulled coins out of his pouch and began distributing them.
"Hey!" complained Serg. "You kept the sword!"
"Is there a problem with that? "
Serg's anger faltered. "I could have used the coat," he whined.
"You can come back in the morning and buy it from Giras. I'm sure he'll give you a good price." Lander dropped the remaining coins back in his pouch and watched his men suspiciously count out their shares. "All there? Good. Go home. I'm going to see Brin. Anyone want to come with me?"
His men said their good-byes with unseemly haste and vanished into the night. Lander smiled grimly to himself and set off back down to dockside. Giras's shop was situated on the very edge of Spandeliyon's middle town. Not the quickest walk up from the dives of the dockside, but worth it whenever anything of value found its way into his hands. With access to a better class of customer, Giras was willing to pay a little more. Sometimes a lot more.
Lander considered the Shou's saber as he walked. Maybe he should have sold it. The hilt was nicely put together, with a fine grip of some coarse-grained leather he didn't recognize and bronze fittings carved with Shou characters. The scabbard matched it, fashioned from wood, brass, and the same coarse leather dyed red. The only problem was that it wasn't meant to be worn like a normal sword. He figured out how to clip it to his belt, but to draw it properly, he would have to carry it as the Shou had. He could figure out a way to fix that though. He buffed the hilt and nodded to himself. It was a nasty, heavy weapon. No, he'd keep it. For now, anyway.
Lander turned a corner onto a street very close to the waterfront and walked up to a long, low building. Painted along the wall and across the door was the sinuous body of an enormous eel. He went inside. In spite of the hour, there were still people around, though most of them were deep in drunken sleep. Those few who were awake glanced at Lander and then quickly turned back to their beer and whatever whispered conversations they were holding. Lander caught the eye of the bartender, a massive man who was as hairless as an egg, and raised his eyebrow. The bartender tilted his head ever so slightly toward the back of the festhall. Lander went that way. Off to one side, a room of gambling tables lay quiet for the night. Off to the other, a heavy curtain hid the way to a series of small rooms where more intimate pleasures could be had. Lander steered his way between the two, pushing aside another curtain to enter a narrow, dark passage.
The sound reached him first as he groped his way through the darkness. Someone was weeping in agony. Smell followed and Lander wrinkled his nose at the pungent barnyard stench. No matter how often that stink assaulted him, he could never get used to it. He gulped air, though, and forced the grimace from his face as his fingers touched rough wood. He stepped through a door to the wide alley behind the Eel and the pigsty Brin kept there.
Bitch Queen's mercy, most of the pigs were asleep. They made a great mass of quivering, snorting flesh in among the straw under the covered portion of the sty. The heat of their bodies kept the shelter comfortable even in the coldest weather; the snow on the roof was already melting in big, fat drops. The pigs hadn't had a chance yet to churn up what snow had fallen on the ground and the sty looked almost pretty. Lander knew better. He picked his way carefully, trying not to disturb the filth underneath.
To one side of the sty, there was a table with a lantern and a bench. Sitting astride the bench, his ankles bound together underneath it, was a man named Kiril. Lander knew him. He collected extortion coin for Brin from several shops on the east of dockside.
His right hand was tied around behind his back. His left was caught in a screw press. He was the one doing the weeping. Judging from the wet state of his hair and shoulders, he had been outside for some time.
Sitting cross-legged on the table beside the press was Brin. Barely three feet tall, the halfling might have been mistaken for a very slight child except for the pinched cruelty of his face. His mouth was narrow and harsh, and a patch covered his left eye socket. There were various tales of how Brin had lost that eye. Some said he put it out himself. Lander didn't believe that. He did, however, believe that Brin was fully capable of such a thing. "Brin," he said in greeting.
"Lander!" Brin's voice, rich and expressive, was a strange contrast to his face. No matter what was going on, he always seemed to be enjoying himself. Maybe that wasn't such a contrast after all. "Kiril, say hello to Lander." The man on the bench didn't respond. "I said, say hello!" Brin's tiny hand lashed out, swiping a pig switch across his prisoner's face. Kiril's head jerked around. For the first time, Lander caught a glimpse of his face in the lantern light. Both cheeks were streaked with fine, bloody cuts from the switch.
"Lander," he said in a quavering voice.
"Kiril." Lander took a step forward.
In the shadows beside the table, something stirred and snuffled. Lander froze as an enormous boar with wiry black hair and malignant yellow eyes turned around to face him. It looked at him with all the warmth of a feral cat, as if deciding whether to tolerate his presence or tear him up on the spot; great knife-sharp tusks curved up on either side of the boar's jaw. "Black Scratch," Lander said, barely able to keep distaste from his voice.
"Easy, Scratch." Brin's switch dipped down to tickle one of the boar's ragged ears. "Now, Kiril, I think you could learn from Lander. I ask him to do something for me and he does it. To the letter." Brin looked up at Lander. "I heard about the lynching. Good work."
Lander nodded. "I've got something else for you. Ran into someone tonight and took care of him for you." He walked up to the table and set down twelve silver coins. Brin's eye glanced over them.
"You had sixty off him or his goods. You probably told your men-what? Fifty?" Lander nodded again. Brin nudged the screw press, drawing another whimper from Kiril. "Did you catch that, Kiril? Lander might cheat his men, but he knows better than to cheat me. I get what's mine. Is that so hard to understand?"
"N-no, Brin," Kiril gulped.
"Are you going to try skimming from me again? " asked Brin. Kiril shook his head emphatically. "Good. I think that finishes our talk tonight." Brin stood up and heaved against the handle of the screw. Kiril let out a horrible scream that brought Black Scratch's ears pricking up and a flurry of alarm from the sleeping pigs in their shelter. "Sorry," apologized Brin, "I guess that was the wrong way."
He slapped the handle and sent the screw spinning up. As Kiril whimpered and held up a hand that was alternately red from the press and white from the night's cold, Brin hopped down and drew a sharp little knife, reaching under the bench to slash the cord that bound the man's feet. "Now get out of my sight," he spat. He drew back the pig switch.
Kiril didn't let it touch him. He was moving before the switch fell, leaping to
his feet and stumbling away into the darkness, the back way out of the alley. Lander looked after him briefly. "What did he do?"
"Told a tailor and a cobbler that I wanted more coin and kept the extra for himself." Brin scooped clean snow off the bench and scrubbed his hands with it. The snow, Lander saw, came away flecked with red from dried blood. Black Scratch came out into the light and Brin finished wiping his hands on the boar's bristly coat. The huge pig acted as if it was nothing and began snuffling around. "Everything went well at the Wench's Ease?"
"I'll talk to Ardo's brother tomorrow. Boat or cash, Ton's debts will be covered, I think."
"And nobody caught on?"
Lander shrugged, trying to ignore Black Scratch. "Tycho figured it out. He didn't say anything to anyone, though."
"If he's smart, he won't. Sharp tack but sometimes too clever for himself." He climbed up onto the bench and reached for the coins on the tabletop. "Sixty silver. Pretty good. Who was he?"
"Just someone else looking for revenge. He couldn't have been in Spandeliyon too long-he just walked into the Wench's Ease and announced that he was looking for a former pirate." Brin's eyebrows shot up. Lander gave him a smile. "Then he named you. You could have driven your pigs through the Ease and no one would have noticed."
"You're kidding." Brin sat down on the bench, legs dangling over the edge. "Nobody is that-"
Black Scratch interrupted him by giving a loud grunt and butting hard against Lander's leg. The boar's weight sent him staggering. Lander gave the beast a hard glare, but when he looked up, it was to find Brin staring at him.
"Lander," asked the halfling, "what's that?" He pointed. Lander reached down. His hand encountered the Shou curved saber.
For a moment, his heart jumped. "It belonged to the man who came looking for you," he said cautiously. "You told me I could keep weapons that caught my eye."
"I remember. Let me see it!"
Lander struggled with the saber for a heartbeat before he got it undipped from his belt. He handed it to Brin, Black Scratch following his every move like a trained guard dog. Brin examined the weapon and its scabbard closely. "The man who was looking for me was a Shou?"
"Yeah."
"Did he give his name?" His voice was sharp as a knife edge.
Lander's heart jumped again. "Kang-no, Kuang. Kuang Li Chien." The man's words came back to him. And yet you would anger Brin by robbing someone who is looking for him. He swallowed hard. "Brin, you said you wanted me to take care of anyone who came looking for you without an invitation!"
"I know what I said," Brin snapped. "What happened to theShou?"
"I… my men and I took him for a walk. He put up a fight. We left him in an alley by Gold Lane."
"Go and get him. Bring him here." Brin rubbed his face with his free hand.
"Brin…" Lander hesitated then said, "he's probably dead by now."
Brin glanced up. There was anger in his eye. "Then bring me his body! I want to see him!" He thrust the saber back at him.
Lander snatched it and ran, following in Kiril's tracks. Filth from Brin's pigs splattered up around his boots. He ignored it. Out of the sty, out of the alley, twisting through the narrow gap that led back onto the street. Images of Kiril's mangled hand-of much worse things that he had seen Brin do to people who displeased him-kept popping into his mind. Lander tried to shove them away, concentrating instead on taking the shortest possible route back to Gold Lane. The snow dragged at his legs, making running hard. He didn't slow down.
At least Brin didn't need the Shou alive!
His legs were like lead and his throat and lungs raw from gulping cold air by the time he reached Gold Lane and slid to a stop at the mouth of the alley. There was a clear mound of snow in the shadows. Lander dropped the saber and plunged his arms into the snow, digging frantically for the Shou's frozen body. It only took a moment before he rocked back on his heels in dismay.
There was no body under the snow. He swung around and scanned the moonlit street. Whether Kuang Li Chien had managed to crawl away from his doom or some bodys-natcher had staggered off with his corpse, there was no sign of it now. His own footsteps were the only things marring the smooth surface of the snow.
Lander drew a shuddering breath and wondered how long he could stay out before he had to go back and face Brin.
CHAPTER 3
La woke with a start to unfamiliar sensations. The smell of cold ashes in his nose and mouth. The feel of rough wool against his naked flesh. An aching stiffness through his entire body. A horrible grating, rumbling sound in his ears. His eyes snapped open.
Narrow beams of cold dawn light pierced between shutters, casting pale illumination on a cramped room. The whole plSce was little bigger than the cabin he had taken on the ship from Telflamm. A clutter of junk, indistinct in the dim light, made it seem even smaller. On a worn couch slept an old woman with a bird's nest of fine gray hair. Li himself lay on the floor before a small fireplace that put out only the vaguest whisper of warmth. The grating, snorting sound….Li raised his head just slightly and peered down the length of his body.
Sprawled on a cot at his feet, the singer from the Wench's Ease snored like a demon.
Li lowered his head and stared up at a ceiling of water-stained boards. What had happened? He remembered last night-remembered Lander's attack and being left by the thug to die in an alley. What then? Cold-then a wonderful warmth. And after that… Movement. Renewed flashes of pain in the darkness. And a sharp light that brought awareness flooding back to him. Magic. Li had felt the distinctive touch of magical healing before. He shifted his body cautiously. He still hurt, but surely less than he should have after such a vicious beating as Lander's men had given him.
There had been something else about the healing magic, though, something that nagged at his mind. More than light and warmth, there had been… song. His head came up again and he glanced sharply at the snoring singer. Was there more to Tychoben Arisaenn than a foolish tavern-singer? He had heard that sometimes the musicians and storytellers of the west had some talent with magic Another memory of Tycho surfaced abruptly, though. Fingers tugging on his arm and the cloth knotted around it. Li gasped softly and reached across his body, feeling for the cloth himself. It was still there, undisturbed. Li let out a sigh of relief, and then grimaced in frustration.
Alone in this foul little city, robbed of nearly everything, dependent on the mercy of strangers-on the mercy of a singer of all people, no matter what arcane skill he might possess! Could the long journey from Shou Lung have come to this? And if Lander did indeed work for Brin as he had claimed, then the hin knew that Li had come looking for him. He would be ready for him.
Or perhaps not. Perhaps Lander's attack had been a blessing. If Lander had told Brin about the attack, then Brin must surely think him dead. Li's eyes narrowed. That couldn't last long. He looked to the cold light that cut through the shutters. Dawn was breaking. The day was already slipping away. The sooner he did what he had come here to do, the sooner he could be away from this vile place.
He pulled back the blankets that wrapped him and rose quietly, hesitated, and reached back down to pick up one of the blankets. He wrapped it around himself, covering his near-nakedness. By all rights, he should be leaving something for Tycho, not taking from him, but his smallclothes alone wouldn't get him very far. It was, perhaps, fortunate that Tycho was smaller than he; there was no point in even contemplating taking any of his clothes. He would find some somewhere else. He would need them and not just because of the cold.
He had been too eager last night, too caught up in his quest. He shouldn't have tried to find-and confront-Brin on his own. Even a town like Spandeliyon would have a guard force or a town watch. He should have gone to them last night. The proper authorities would help him find Brin. At the very least, they should help him find Lander, and now Li had a personal score to settle with the thug. He clenched his fist slowly, making the knuckles pop.
There were two doors out of the sq
ualid room, but only one of them showed traces of water and mud stains on the floorboards beneath. Stepping softly in time with Tycho's thunderous snores, Li crossed the room and eased it open. Outside was a dark hallway with a narrow stair. Li took one glance back at Tycho and the old woman, stepped out, closed the door behind himself, and hastened down the stairs. They creaked alarmingly under his weight, but at least the wood was worn smooth beneath his bare feet. Boots, he reminded himself with another grimace, he would need to find boots even before he found clothing.
Fortune smiled on him. He was almost at the bottom of the stairs when a door opened onto the morning and a tall man staggered in stinking of ale. Blinded by the transition from light to dark, he probably registered nothing more than a vague figure in the shadows. Li reared back, one hand braced on the wall and the other on the stairs' rickety railing, and caught him on the chest with a hard double kick that sent him sliding bonelessly back through the door. Li stuck his head out into the cold and glanced up and down the street. There was no one out. He grabbed the tall man's feet and swiftly dragged him back inside.
"Bind him!" ranted Tycho. "Bind him and tar him and set him out for bait!" He stomped-yet again-on the patch of floor where Li Chien had lain. There was yet another round of hammering from the room below, which Tycho responded to with even more stomping.
"Tycho, calm down!" ordered Veseene. She looked at him irritably and went back to fanning reluctant flames under a kettle in the fireplace. "Did you expect him to give you a reward?"
Tycho flung himself down on his cot. "He could have at least said 'thank you.' He was like this last night, too- curt and tighter with words than a Daleman with coin, so full of himself that he doesn't have time for anyone else." Veseene sighed and turned all the way around.
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