One figure moved in the dim light of the empty festhall. The big bartender was at his post. He jerked his bald head toward the back of the Eel. Li drew a deep breath. So far it seemed Tycho was right. He hoped that the bard was wrong on his next guess, though.

He'll have us outnumbered. Lander will be there for sure, and likely Serg, Bor, Nico, and Ovel, too. And Black Scratch. With Brin, that will be seven against three.

Tycho had counted Laera to be polite, but not even she believed him. It would be seven to two. A hard fight, hand-to-hand. They would need Tycho's magic-and the magic of the Yellow Silk. Tycho had protested the use of the ancient artifact-they were trying to protect it, weren't they?-but Li had argued him down. His father had entrusted him with the Silk for use in desperate situations. What was this situation if not desperate?

Better to use the Silk than surrender it without a fight, he thought as well, especially when the Silk wasn't the only thing at stake. Tycho hadn't been able to guess at Veseene's condition or circumstances in Brin's grasp.

Li's fingers curled against his dao again. He needed Brin to answer one question for him. And after that…

"Li?" Tycho nudged him. "Are you all right?"

"I'm almost done here, Tycho." He looked down at the bard. "One way or the other, I'll be done. I'll have an answer about Yu Mao. If Brin says he's dead, I can go back to Keelung. If Brin says he's alive somewhere else, I'll be leaving Spandeliyon to find him."

"And if Brin kills us before he gives you an answer?" Tycho asked in Shou.

Li glanced at Laera, but of course the young woman didn't understand the language. His mouth twitched in a grim smile. "I thought you said no more reassuring talks?" he said to Tycho.

"You're not scared?"

"Witless," said Li, quoting Tycho's own words back at him. "It's the only smart way." He held out his hand in the Western manner. "If Brin kills us, Tycho, then I'm glad to have met you."

Tycho took his hand and bowed over it.

One of the curtains that had previously been drawn at the festhall's rear was pulled aside to reveal a door of rough, black-painted wood. Tycho paused. "Here we go," he said, and opened it. The smell of pigs washed over them, almost suffocating in its strength. Li followed Tycho through the door and into Brin's infamous sty.

Tycho had described it perfectly. The shadowed alley behind the Eel was wide-as wide as a house. Perhaps five paces to the right, it ended in a tall plank fence. An equal distance to the left was a lower, more open fence of rails. Beyond, the alley twisted back out to the street. A heap of wet straw slumped against the wall of the Eel on the rail fence's far side; against the fence and inside the sty were a long trough and a stout table and bench. At the back of the sty, a low roofed shelter had been built against the wall of the neighboring building. Perhaps a dozen pigs were huddled within, all of them staring out with a frightened intensity.

Brin sat on the table with Veseene, a gag in her mouth and her hands loosely bound, beside him. He held a sharp dagger in his right hand. His left rested on the head of Black Scratch. The boar sat like an angry guard dog beside the table, barely restrained by his master's touch. Lander, Nico, and Serg stood arrayed between the table and the door.

They weren't alone. Against the plank fence lounged five rough-looking men. All armed. Beyond the rail fence stood two other men, one in red robes, the other in normal clothes but wearing confident power like a cloak. Wizards? Li's breath hissed out. His fingers curled against the scabbard one final time then stayed still.

They had expected to be outnumbered, but not like this. "Tycho…" Li murmured.

Brin nodded and Li caught sudden movement out of the corners of his eyes as Bor and Ovel stepped away from the wall behind them. Ovel reached out and shoved the door closed. Laera squeaked in alarm.

"Stick to the plan," Tycho whispered back, but his voice was thin. Li fought to keep a wince off his face. Their plan was meant for seven, not thirteen.

Did they have another choice now? He glanced around, taking careful note of where their opponents stood and trying to guess how they might move, as Tycho stepped forward. "Olore, Brin," the bard called. "You didn't mention that there'd be such an audience."

"But you still brought the full chorus." Brin looked at Laera with a hungry leer and she shrank back. "Dantakain's daughter. Mard's been tearing up the town looking for her and you had her the whole time."

"I don't have her," said Tycho sharply. "/ don't take hostages."

Brin smiled. "Why, neither do I. Is it wrong to invite people around for some conversation?" He pricked Ve-seene with the dagger and the old woman hissed. Her face was pale and she was shaking badly, though Li couldn't tell whether that was because of her palsy or the cold. Above her gag, however, her faded blue eyes flashed angrily-at them. If she'd been able to talk, Li guessed, she would be berating them for walking into so obvious a trap.

Tycho's eyes narrowed. "Take the gag out of her mouth. Let me talk to her."

"I don't think so," said Brin. His gaze shifted between Tycho and Li. "Do you have the Yellow Silk of Kuang? "

Tycho reached into a pocket of his coat. It seemed as if half the people gathered-but especially Brin and the two wizards-leaned forward in anticipation. Li tensed. Tycho, however, produced only a small velvet bag. "The beljurils, Brin," he said, spilling the winking gems into his hand.

"You know it was Jacerryl who stole them. He sold them. I got them back." He tipped them back into the bag and held it out. "How about you take them and we part ways? All square?"

Brin's sneer was no surprise. In fact, they had been counting on it. Li forced his expression to remain neutral. Let the hin think they were desperate, he thought, that he had them backed into a corner…

That if he let them simply exchange the Yellow Silk for Veseene and walk out of the Eel, he would be losing the valuable beljurils. Blood in the water draws sharks, Tycho had pointed out. And in spite of his sneer, Brin's eye followed the bag as Tycho passed it to Laera. Lander's eyes followed it as well. Li murmured a silent prayer to Hsing Yong, the patron of fortune and prosperity. The sharks had the scent. It was time to whip them into a feeding frenzy-and, he hoped, to draw out an answer to the question that had brought him from Keelung to Spandeliyon. He stepped forward.

Black Scratch shifted at the sudden gesture and let out a snort, hot breath producing a great cloud of vapor. Brin's hand tightened on the boar's head. Li ignored the beast and glared at Brin with all of the confidence he could muster. "You know who I am and what I carry," he snarled. "You must know why I'm here."

"Kuang Li Chien," Brin replied without hesitation, "dutiful younger son of Kuang." His sneer grew even broader and more mocking. "Seeking vengeance for the death of his beloved brother, Yu Mao."

In spite of himself, Li felt anger rising inside him. "Seeking vengeance on him," he said. "I know how he betrayed his ship and our people to join the Sow." It was gratifying to see Brin stiffen in surprise. So the hin hadn't guessed everything. Li returned his sneer. "You sailed with him for a year before the Sow sank. That's how you came to know about the Yellow Silk." He reached for his own pocket. "Before you take it, tell me this and I will not also seek my vengeance on you: where is Yu Mao now?"

Brin released Black Scratch and grabbed Veseene with both hands, dagger tight to her throat. The old woman's eyes were wide. "You're in no position to make demands!" he spat above the enraged bellows of Black Scratch. Lander jumped in to grab the boar and hold him back, but the beast's squeals spread to the pigs in the shelter. The din was deafening.