Servants were pouring into the recently vacated bed chamber. The door from the sitting room to the hall opened as well. More servants stood framed in the doorway. Tycho pushed off from the sill, dropping out of sight. Li slapped both swords into one hand and leaped for the window, shoving himself through and jumping down to the roof below. Slate tiles cracked and slid under his feet; he staggered and barely managed to stop himself from sliding as well. Tycho was crouched at the edge of the roof. He gestured for him to follow then turned and slithered backward over the edge, letting himself down slowly before dropping. Li scuttled carefully after him and peered over. Tycho stood in the snow below. "Hurry!"

"Catch these!" Li reached out and dropped the swords. Tycho gasped and flinched back then dodged forward again. Li didn't wait to see if he had the swords, but just slid down backward as Tycho had done. He caught a brief glimpse of servants peering out through the broken window above before he let go and dropped, rolling as he hit snow. Tycho grabbed his arm as he came to his feet and dragged him off into the shadows at a run.

They didn't stop until they were back in Spandeliyon's middle town and Tycho collapsed against a wall. "Here," he wheezed, "take your stupid knives. I hope they're worth almost getting caught!" He thrust the blades at him and bent over with his hands on his knees, sucking in deep breaths of air.

"They're not knives. They're swords. Butterfly swords. Shou weapons." Li wrapped his hands around the grips. He raised first the right then the left. "This one is Silkworm. This one is Mulberry Leaf."

Tycho looked up at him. "They have names?"

"These do." Li lowered the weapons and stared at them. "They were Yu Mao's!"

With a nod from Brin, Lander knocked on the rough wood of the door. There was no response. He knocked again then tried the handle. The door pushed open less than a hair's width before jamming. "Bolted," he grunted at Brin.

The halfling shrugged. "Veseene!" he yelled. "Veseene, let us in or you'll need a new door!"

For a moment there was silence, but then Lander heard a soft shuffling from the other side of the door. It was followed, however, not by the door opening, but only by the sharp grate of an iron bolt being drawn. The shuffling returned, moving away from the door this time. Lander tried the door again. This time it swung open easily.

Veseene was doddering across the floor to a worn, blanket-covered couch. "I'm not going to give you an invitation if that's what you're waiting for," she said without turning around. She lowered herself onto the couch slowly. "What do you want from me, Brin?"

"Want? I'm just paying a call." Brin strutted through the doorway. Lander followed a little more cautiously. There were stories about Veseene. He had heard them when she had come to Spandeliyon for the first time, almost ten years ago-no archmage, but still a potent spellcaster who could wrap chains around a man's heart and mind with her songs and split the air itself with her shouts. Veseene the Lark. Over time, he had begun to wonder if the tales were nothing more than that, stories perhaps even spread by the bard herself. Certainly the greatest bit of magic he had seen her perform back then was prying Tycho away from the Spandeliyon dockside! And since the two of them had been back… well, there were new stories. Stories that said Veseene's powers had deserted her, stolen away by a wizened body that had betrayed her.

All the old woman had to do, however, was fix him with those faded blue eyes and suddenly he was a nothing but a youth with a cheap sword and scraggly whiskers again. "Close the door behind yourself, Lander," she said.

Kander swung it shut without even thinking, shooting closed the heavy bolt that was probably the sturdiest thing in the place. He looked around Tycho and Veseene's rooms. He had the distinct impression that if Brin hadn't forcefully prevented Black Scratch from following them up the stairs, the boar's weight would have collapsed the entire building. Veseene's couch looked hardly sturdy enough to support her birdlike frame. A cupboard against one wall seemed ready to fall apart; a rough chunk of wood supported one corner of it in place of a proper leg.

The fireplace was tiny, the walls crisscrossed with fine cracks, the shutters on the window as frail as Veseene herself. Light in the room came in wisps from the fireplace and from greasy yellow tallow candles. The legendary Lark and her smart-mouthed apprentice, Lander realized sharply, lived like desperate shadows, no better than any of Spandeliyon's docksiders and worse than some. Would anyone with power live like that?

A sneer pulled on Lander's lips as fear and awe fell away before disdain. He crossed the room in three strides and threw open an interior door. The room beyond was cold, dark, and smelled vaguely of mold. All it contained was a chest, a sagging bed, and some stacked firewood. "They're not here, Brin."

Veseene's breath caught. Brin rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Lander. I wouldn't have guessed." There was a short stool close to the flickering fire. Brin sat himself on it and looked at Veseene intently. "You have a dagger hidden in your cushions," he said. "But your first instinct is right- you wouldn't have a chance of sticking me with it."

Veseene didn't move, didn't even blink.

"Lander," said Brin over his shoulder, "it's freezing cold in here. Stoke up the fire nice and hot. Give us some comfort."

Lander nodded and reached into the other room, scooping up sticks and split logs. Half the stored wood was barely an armful. He piled it on the fire, poking at the glowing coals to stir them up. As the flames began to mount, Veseene finally flinched. "That's enough," she said. "You'll use up our supply."

"A little more, Lander. My nose is still cold." Brin rubbed his fingers together and grinned at Veseene. "We'll have it nice and warm for you shortly. Old bones shouldn't be cold, you know!"

"I'm warm enough." Lander felt Veseene's eyes follow him as he stacked on more wood. The fire was pouring out heat now-an absolute waste. He stood to go back to the other room for more wood. Panic flickered in Veseene's eyes. "That's enough, Lander!"

Her voice cracked and bubbled on his name. Her hands-and arms and legs-were trembling. She reached down and tried to tug a blanket over herself. Brin's small hand snapped forward and ripped it away from her. Ve-seene gasped, her shaking limbs jerking together like the tentacles of a squid poked with a stick. Brin glared at her. "I want Tycho and the Shou man, Kuang Li Chien," he snarled. "Where are they?"

Veseene was silent for a moment then she asked stubbornly, "Why?"

"Why? Why?" Brin jumped up on top of the stool and whirled the blanket around himself. "You shouldn't be asking, Veseene! You should be answering!" He hunched his body up and hobbled in a little circle. "Can't sing anymore, can you? Can't play, can't cast a spell. The lark's in a cage, but for some reason she still thinks she's flying free."

There was a tea box sitting on top of a low table. Brin unfurled the blanket from his body and snapped it sharply, like a whip. The end of it cracked against the tea box and sent it flying off the table. It smashed into the fireplace. Sparks flew. The dry wood charred and burst into flame almost instantly. A sweet-sharp smell drifted out into the room. Brin turned back to Veseene.

"Where are they?" His voice was tight and grating, like steel on a whetstone.

"I don't know!" The trembling in Veseene's limbs was severe now. Her fingers were knotted around themselves, her hands clutched up tight against her chest. Her voice was quavering. "I haven't seen either of them since this morning."