The old bard's eyes fluttered open. "Tycho?" she said distantly.

"I'm here."

She reached up and slapped him. "That was a rescue?" Her face trembled and she pulled him close. He gasped.

"Veseene, you're bleeding!" He pushed her back and looked at her chest. She looked down-and laughed.

"My tea, Tycho!" She reached under her shirt and pulled out a dampened pouch. Red oozed between her fingers. "It got wet when I fell!"

His mouth worked, but no sound came out. He wrapped his arms around her in a hug. "Veseene, I…"

Li squatted down beside them. "She's all right?"

"I'm all right," Veseene said irritably, pulling back to glare at the Shou. "I'm right here-"

Laera's shriek interrupted her. Tycho twisted around.

Where the second bolt from the Yellow Silk, the real bolt, had struck, the portion of the rail fence that had been his target-close enough to catch the two wizards and Brin, but not Veseene-was charred and smoldering. Wet, steaming ground, any trace of snow melted away, made a perfect circle all around it. Within the circle, Hanibaz and Mosi were picking themselves up. Hanibaz's front was covered in mud. Likewise Mosi's back, matting his fine robes against a skinny backside. The two looked at each other and almost in unison muttered spells. The mud simply slid off of them in a rain of dirt, leaving them clean and unsullied. They looked at the little group huddled within the sty.

Specifically, they looked atTycho. "That," said Hanibaz, "was impressive. The Yellow Silk of Kuang, I presume?"

Tycho swallowed. Mosi's eyes narrowed. "Cooperate now, duel for it later, Hanibaz?" he proposed.

The bearded mage smiled. "That seems fair." The wizards moved forward as one.

Tycho eased Veseene out of his arms and stood up quickly. Li rose as well.

A horrid coughing grunt and a chorus of porcine squeals stopped them all.

Out in the middle of the sty, Black Scratch was climbing heavily-impossibly!-to his feet. "Li?" breathed Tycho.

"I killed him!" the Shou said. "I swear I did!" The boar's bristly head turned at the sound of his voice. His dark eyes were intense. For a heartbeat, he stared at the stunned humans-then reared back and stood upright. Animal legs lengthened and thickened into powerful human legs and heavy arms. Hooves became hands and feet, tusks shrank to teeth, and bristles shriveled into thick hair on a broad, muscular torso. Dark, intense eyes remained dark and intense, but folded and blinked behind almond-shaped lids.

A Shou man stood where Black Scratch had been. Li gulped. "Yu Mao!"

"Yu Mao?" Tycho stared at the man the boar had become. From all that Li had said of his brother, he had built up a picture of a stern and proper Shou, elegant and dignified, a subtle, well-groomed villain. The man who glared at them had the black hair, dark eyes, and golden skin of a Shou, but the resemblance to Tycho's imagined vision of Yu Mao ended there. This man was filthy, golden skin smeared with dirt. His hair was thick and wild on his head and simply thick everywhere else. Everything about his body was thick and heavy-where Li was lean and spare, he had big muscles padded with a firm layer of fat. Like… like…

Like a boar. Like Black Scratch.

Li was staring, too, his eyes incredulous. "What… how…" he gasped in Shou. "What kind of magic is this?"

"The darkest magic, younger brother," the man-Yu Mao-snarled. He spat the words in Common. He curled massive hands into fists and stepped forward. Pigs twined around his legs like happy cats. He kicked them away and stooped down to Serg's groaning, coat-shrouded form. Another kick stilled Lander's man. Yu Mao ripped Li's coat off him and knotted it around his waist, covering his nakedness. Li shook his head in astonishment.

"Yu Mao, I thought you were dead!"

"It takes more than a dao to kill me, Li Chien," growled Yu Mao.

Tycho saw Li flinch at his brother's words. Conflict and confusion burned across his face. Li spread his hands. "No! I mean, you…You're alive! Brin said "He gestured at the collapsed shelter. Brin was still yelling from underneath and banging at the tangled wood, maybe even louder now. Yu Mao just growled again.

"I know what Brin said! And he was right. The Yu Mao you came looking for is gone. He went down with Sow. Not that it matters. I know why you came west. You want me dead one way or another-you and our father. Am I right?"

Li's breath hissed between his teeth. "You murdered the other people on the trading expedition. You've shamed Kuang-"

"So you want vengeance." Yu Mao bared teeth that shone sharp and white. "It's not going to be that easy, Li Chien." His eyes darted to the wizards, standing as still and startled as anyone. "Hanibaz! Mosi! You still want the Yellow Silk of Kuang?" A thick finger, the nail on it yellow and cracked, jabbed at Tycho. "He's yours. Take it from him and you can keep it." The finger shifted to Li. "But him. He's mine."

The wizards glanced at each other and Hanibaz shrugged. "Fair enough." They took a step back. Hani-baz's hand reached into his cloak.

Tycho choked and looked at Li. The Shou's face was pale, but the expression on it was hard. "Give them the Silk," he hissed. "Save yourself." Tycho nodded. He reached for his sleeve and his fingers closed on its astonishing warmth.

We were so close, he thought. It almost worked, we almost got away. We took down Brin and Lander and all their men-and even Hanibaz and Mosi. Red Wizards, Tycho, he reminded himself, you pulled one over on Red Wizards!

And you're going to stop fighting now?

Anger flared inside him, warm and powerful as the Silk itself. A crooked smile spread across his face and he grinned at Li. "Bind me if I will!" he spat. Li's eyes narrowed and a smile tugged on his face as well.

They moved at the same moment, Li charging at Yu Mao with a shout, Tycho whirling to dart across the sty and away from the wizards-and his aged mentor. "Laera!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Get Veseene out of here!"

Words of magic shimmered in the air. One of the wizards was working a spell. Tycho's hand went to his sleeve and the ragged edge of the Yellow Silk, and he tugged loose another thread. It grew in his grasp, pulsing and warm. He spun around, sliding in the muck of the sty, and hurled it at the mages without pausing.

Hanibaz dived away from the glowing bolt, but Mosi stood firm. He spoke the final syllable of his spell and flung up his hands. A wispy curtain of flame flared before him, catching the Silk's bolt. Light spattered like water and Mosi staggered, but there was no explosion. Hanibaz hissed. He reached into his cloak once more and whipped out a long, slim wand of pale wood tipped with a vivid red gem. A harsh world rippled from his lips. He flicked the wandatiycho.

The bard didn't wait to see what unpleasant effect the wand might produce. He threw himself forward, tumbling across the ground. Hanibaz hissed in frustration. Tycho rolled to his feet, snatching another thread from the Yellow Silk as he moved, and rose with a golden bolt ready in his hand. The Red Wizards were separated now, though, too far apart for a single bolt to affect both! His gaze darted from one to the other, trying to choose a target. Mosi, readying another spell behind his veil-thin shield of magic, or Hanibaz with his wand? He lunged toward Mosi in a desperate feint-maybe he could at least startle him into dropping his spell before hurling the bolt at Still in his grasp, the bolt changed as he lunged, flexing and lengthening in the air. The tip of a long lash of light cracked, whiplike, against Mosi's shield with a shower of sparks. Mosi yelped and the spell that he had been weaving collapsed in on itself. Even Hanibaz jumped, wand momentarily forgotten. Tycho's own surprise gave way almost instantly to fierce, angry joy.