Cado answered by pulling out two smallish canvas bags. Tycho's eyes went wide. "Listen, I think there's been a misunderstanding-"

"You thought you could take the Hooded." The tall guard jerked a thumb toward Tycho then toward Li. The men with him moved forward, one grabbing Tycho and holding him still, the other pulling Li to his knees as well. Li tried to pull away, but the guard held him tight.

"Tycho!" Li said in Shou. "What's going on?"

"The Hooded isn't just called that because he wears a hood," gulped Tycho in the same language. "They call him that because his victims are usually wearing them when they're-"

Cado swatted him. "Quiet, you." He pulled a bag over his head and tugged it tight with a drawstring. Tycho gasped and struggled, but the guard just turned to Li.

"Wait!" Li said desperately. "The Hooded doesn't want us dead!"

"He does," said Cado. "He doesn't like being attacked. Wants you made an example of." He yanked the bag over Li's head.

The fabric was rank and stifling. Through it, Li could see the spot of light that was the torch, but everything else was just a series of vague, dark shapes. "Then take a message to the Hooded!" he told the tall guard.

"Hooded doesn't want to hear messages."

"He'll want to hear this one," Li insisted. "Just two words. Yu Mao. He'll know what it means."

"There's a silver raven in it for you," Tycho added. "In my coat pocket. Come on-two words?"

The tall guard paused and grunted. "All right." Li heard Tycho hiss-Cado probably wasn't any too gentle in obtaining his payment. "Watch them close," he told the other two guards. Footsteps receded. Li closed his eyes and prayed to all nine Immortals that Tycho was wrong and he was right, that it was Yu Mao under that leather hood-and that even if he was going to have to kill his brother, that Yu Mao might want some kind of last word with them first.

It seemed like forever before Cado's footsteps returned. "Well?" asked Li. "Did he understand?"

"Yes," said the guard. "He said to get rid of you faster."

On the ratty, threadbare couch, Veseene sputtered and coughed suddenly. Laera jumped up from her seat beside the fireplace and went to her.

"Veseene?"

The old woman drew a dry, rasping breath. Ty-cho had left a cup of water beside the couch. Laera propped Veseene up a little bit and held the cup to her lips. Veseene sipped at it and nodded. Laera took the cup away and slid a folded blanket under Veseene's head to help her stay upright.

"Are you feeling better? "

Veseene gave a shuddering sigh. "Blessed Lliira, yes." She wheezed out another cough, but shook her head when Laera reached for the water again. "I have to be feeling better," she said with a thin smile. "I couldn't feel much worse than I did before."

"Tycho said to fetch an herbalist named Sephera if you needed her."

"Don't bother Sephera." Veseene's shaking hand slipped out from under the blanket that covered her and folded around Laera's. "She'd just lecture me. I'll be fine. How long have I been asleep? What time is it?"

"It's mid-afternoon." Laera squeezed Veseene's hand. The effort it had taken the old women to cast the spell of invisibility on Li had left her incredibly weak, but somehow she had managed to hide the worst of the strong tea's effects until Tycho had left. Laera had almost run shrieking after him when Veseene had begun to moan and writhe.

Veseene hadn't let her. "It will pass," she had gasped. "It will pass!"

And it had. Tortured twitching had faded to occasional shudders and Veseene had fallen into a restless sleep. Laera had curled up beside the small fire, staring into its luminous depths as if she could divine the future from them.

Veseene must have seen the questions she had silently asked the fire reflected in her eyes. Her grip tightened. "You're not so certain are you, Laera?"

Laera tried to find words and failed. She looked down at the worn floor and shook her head. Veseene released her hand, reaching up to bump her chin and nudge it back up. "Never look away, Laera. You have beautiful eyes. Looking away hides them when you should be using them to your advantage." Her hand fell back to the blankets, but her faded blue eyes remained on Laera's. "Why do you want to leave Spandeliyon, Laera? Why do you want to leave an easy life to become a wanderer?"

"I-" Laera started to look down again. She bit her lip and forced herself to look up. She did sink back, though, folding her legs to sit cross-legged, a pose Uncle Jacerryl had once told her was most unbecoming to a young lady of quality. Of course now Uncle Jacerryl was revealed for a thief and a smuggler-and she might not be a young lady of quality much longer. She sighed. "I wanted to leave so that I could be with Tycho. Because I thought he felt something for me." She crinkled her nose. "Now I know he doesn't."

"Don't be too hard on him," Veseene cautioned her with a smile. "He wasn't being very sensitive, but he was just flirting. I know it wasn't meant maliciously. Playing to the audience-any audience-is just second nature to a bard." Her eyes twinkled. "If you were giving lessons to a handsome young man, don't you think you'd flirt with him? Just a little bit?" Laera stared at her in shock.

"No!" she said firmly, but part of her rejected that answer almost immediately. She thought about the pose in which she had arranged herself for Tycho in the library and felt color rise to her cheeks. "Well, maybe," she confessed. "But I wouldn't want to hurt anyone!"

"Neither would Tycho." The old woman sat up a little more. "But even after you found out Tycho didn't feel for you that way, you still said you wanted to take to the road. Did you really think about why or is it as Tycho says and you're just being stubborn?" The flush of Laera's cheeks grew stronger. Veseene gave her an easy smile. "It's all right, Laera. It's not my place to force you to go back home."

"Home!" Laera snorted. "Home to let my father lock me in my room?" She stood up. "He would, you know. He'd lock me up and not let me out until I was married to some ugly merchant from Impiltur or Thesk. He probably wouldn't even let me out for the wedding-he'd bring a priest to the house to hear my vows through a locked door!"

Veseene laughed. Laera glared at her. "He would!" she insisted.

"From what I've heard about him from Tycho, I don't doubt it." Veseene wiped her eyes. She shifted her legs and patted the couch. Laera sat down beside her. "Why a bard, Laera?" she asked.

Laera sighed. "Wandering from city to city, needing nothing more than an instrument, a sharp blade, and a sharper wit, living off stories, songs, and secrets " She smiled. "I read a book once that told the deeds of the Harpers-fighting evil and defending the weak then vanishing like music in the night." She crooked her head to look at Veseene. "Have you ever known any Harp-"

"No," said Veseene in a tone that was both quick and sharp. "I haven't. Did your book point out that Harpers are also meddlers? Thanks to them, there are places all through the north and west that would welcome an honest night's entertainment, but never see it because anyone who wanders in singing so much as a note is immediately clapped in irons by the local authorities, kept overnight, then run out of town in the morning." She crossed her arms. "Lliira's song, Laera, Tycho said you had been reading too many romances and listening to ballads, but have you ever really thought about what life on the road is like? You can make your way with a song and a smile, but it's brutally hard and a sharp wit can be as much trouble as a sword. Ask Tycho about that! A bard's life might sometimes be more exciting than life as a dutiful daughter or a merchant's wife, but it's seldom any easier and there's very little romantic about it!"