Lander drew a shuddering breath and wondered how long he could stay out before he had to go back and face Brin.

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 squalid 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.

"Did you consider that maybe he isn't comfortable with our language?"

"He knows I speak Shou," grumbled Tycho. "He even insulted me over it."

"Then maybe he has something important on his mind."

Tycho dismissed the idea with a snort and stared into the fire. He didn't have to look at Veseene to know that she was rolling her eyes, but he heard her grunt as she climbed awkwardly to her feet and hobbled over to a cupboard. "Fine," she said. "Sulk. You did a good thing and got no thanks for it. I once spent two months as a dog because I tried to throw a surprise party for a wizard friend."

He tried to hold back a smile, but failed. "It's impossible to sulk around you," he complained.

"I try my best." Veseene looked at him over her shoulder. "Try to remember what I told you when I took you on, Tycho. A bard remembers everything, laughs, laments, mourns, and celebrates-"

"-and regrets nothing." Tycho sighed. "I know." He pushed himself up off the cot. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Here. Catch." Veseene opened the cupboard and tossed a big chunk of bread at him, followed in rapid succession by two mugs, a plate, and a piece of hard cheese. Her aim was more than a little off, spoiled by the shaking of her hands, but Tycho darted forward and caught each item, juggling them easily in the air. His feet found the toasting iron. He flicked it upright with one foot, held it there with the toes of the other, and impaled first the cheese then the bread on it. The mugs and plate went down on top of a small table. Tycho kicked the iron up, spun around once, caught it, and had the bread held above the fire before Veseene could even close the cupboard. "Show off," she told him.

"If I can figure out a way to do that at the Ease, I could make an extra fifteen pennies off the crowd."