Then the wall beside the door bulged and creaked. The boar was coming out one way or another!
In the darkness, sudden light shimmered, brilliant and warm. Tycho whirled back around. To one side of the great bare tree, stood Li. His shirt was open and he was reaching across his body with his right hand, seeming to draw the light in a long shining strand out of his left shoulder. As he pulled back his arm, the strand grew and thickened until it was the size of a javelin. Tycho gasped, grabbed Laera, and pulled her down into a crouch. Light flashed overhead again; scorching warmth blew past them once more.
"Up!" shouted Tycho. "Up!" He was running before Laera was even on her feet, literally dragging her for several steps toward Li through the muck of the yard. A glance back showed a patch of melted snow at the base of the Ease's wall, but the wood of the wall itself was smoking this time as well. There were still shouts and squeals from inside, but now the squeals sounded frantic with pain. The shouts were angry and defiant; Muire and her loyal customers were holding against Brin and Lander while Black Scratch hurled himself against the walls in terror. Tycho slid to a stop before Li. The Shou was hurriedly refasten-ing his shirt. "What," Tycho gasped, "was that?"
Li shook his head. "Not here. We need to get away." He jerked his head at Laera; the girl was weeping, shivering, and sucking in huge hollow breaths. Tycho ground his teeth together and gave her a hard shake.
"Laera!" he snarled at her. "Go home!" She looked up at him with wide eyes. Mud streaked her face and hair. "Go home to your father!"
"But I want to be with you!" The words came out as a desperate wail and she grabbed for his arms again. "I want to travel, to-"
Tycho slapped her. "You want the road? This is the road. There's no glamor in it." He spun her around sharply. "Go that way. It will take you to a guard station. The guards will see you home. Now run!" He gave her a shove. She stumbled a few steps and looked back. "I said, go! Go!"
Laera wailed again and fled. Tycho didn't look after her. He grabbed Li and pulled him off into the shadows in another direction.
Tycho slid the blade of his dagger down the gap between two boards until he felt it catch slightly. He pressed to the side and a loose section of board on the right popped free. In the cavity behind it was a key. Tycho took it, replaced the board, and slipped around to the door of the net shed. Li was looking up at the shack doubtfully. "No one will find us here?"
"As long as we're quiet, no. The owners died recently." Tycho slid the key into the lock on the door and turned it. The lock gave way with a faint squeal. Li winced.
"How recently?"
"Did you see the body hanging on the tree outside the Ease last night?" The Shou nodded. "That was one of them." He pushed open the door and ushered Li inside, stepped through himself, and closed the door behind them. A whisper of song put a soft magical glow around the key. He flashed it around briefly so Li could see their surroundings. Nets in need of mending. The tools to do it. Lines and reels. Coils of rope. Pitch and caulking. All the equipment fishing folk might need. The shed wasn't big, two paces in one direction, maybe four in another. It was cold-a gap ran across the top of the front and back walls just below the roof line so air could flow through and dry the nets. A tight mesh tacked over it kept out birds and vermin. The water of the Sea of Fallen Stars was close; the sound of the surf was constant. Tycho went to the chest where Ardo and Ton had kept a stash of blankets, water, and smoked fish. The water and blankets he shared out with Li. The fish he left. He couldn't quite handle the thought of eating at the moment. Shielding the glowing key so that only a trace of light leaked through, he dropped down onto a coil of rope and looked hard at Li.
"You can't tell me you're just a clerk now," he said. "I've never seen a clerk fight like that. What exactly does the Department of Lost Treasures do? "
Li shrugged off the small armory of weapons that he wore or carried-scimitar, butterfly swords, and saber fell onto a folded net. He retrieved the saber, slid it out of the scabbard, and held it up in the light to inspect the blade. "The Emperor formed the Department of Lost Treasures as part of an effort to reclaim knowledge and great works lost by the more foolish of his imperial predecessors over the centuries. The Department of Lost Treasures searches out the fabulous artifacts and relics of old."
Tycho's look turned to open-mouthed wonder. "Bind me!" he spat. "You're a treasure hunter?" Li shot him a scowl.
"I'm not a treasure hunter." He thrust the saber back into its scabbard. "My responsibility is to look after the more senior clerks and scholars and keep them safe."
"And those bolts of light? You're not a mage, too, are you?"
Li hesitated then opened his shirt and slipped his left arm free. The wound that Lander had inflicted on him was a sharp red line across his forearm, but twisted around his arm above the bicep was the dirty old rag Tycho had noticed before. The bard's eyes narrowed. "When I healed you last night, I tried to look at that to see if there was another wound underneath. Even half-unconscious, you fought back like it was the most important thing in the world." He leaned forward, taking a closer look at the rag.
In spite of its filthy and worn condition, it was clear that it had once been a piece of very fine silk. "What is it? A lost treasure from your department?"
"It has never been lost. It's a family heirloom entrusted to me by my father to help me in my search for Yu Mao." Li tugged at one edge of the rag, pulling free a clean fold. Tycho gasped-the dirt of the rag was only on the outside. Its true color exposed, the silk was…
Gold. No, buttercups. Saffron. Lemons. It was yellow, but a yellow so pure and exquisite that to call it that was demeaning. And yet there was no other word that could come close to describing it. It shimmered with light and warmth, that tiny exposed fold casting a glow that put his spell of light to shame. The very edge of the fold was ragged, however, and frayed, lycho drew a breath. "Those bolts?"
"Threads of the Yellow Silk of Kuang, drawn forth and hurled at enemies," he said reverently. "I think the same magic kept me just warm enough to endure the snowbank after Lander left me for dead last night." Li folded the edge of the silk back over and its radiance vanished. "Keelung silks are famous for a yellow dye that the Kuang invented. The legends of my family say, however, that the first dyers and weavers of Kuang achieved even more." He brushed his hand over the dirty rag. "They captured the power of the sun in a magical banner."
"That's a banner?" lycho asked in disbelief.
"Fine silk folds very small," Li said. "The Yellow Silk is bigger than it looks. Its power has also been called on many times over the centuries. It isn't as big as it once was. Even the finest silk wears and becomes threadbare with use."
Tycho looked at him narrowly. "With use?" He sucked in an angry breath. "You couldn't have used it earlier? You couldn't have used it last night against Lander and his men?"
Li snarled back just as hotly, dropping into Shou in his anger. "The Yellow Silk isn't some common mage's wand, Tycho! It's the symbol of my family's strength and prosperity. Its power is not used lightly. It hasn't been unfurled in public in more than a hundred years. Even many members of my family believe it to be only a legend and outside of Kuang, it's less than a myth." He folded his arms. "You are the first in three generations aside from the head of Kuang and his heir to see the Yellow Silk and certainly the first non-Shou to have ever even heard of it!" He looked down his nose at Tycho. "I thought you might appreciate that more, considering you seem to collect stories-and considering that the Yellow Silk kept Black Scratch from tearing into your hairy backside."