The little room was warmly lit, and much fuller than Liya remembered. A pair of rather lopsided, plain curtains were half-closed over the window, against the gloom outside. The cobblestone floor was blanketed here and there by straw mats; the bed, though its covers were patched, was neatly made. A string of glass bulbs hung from the pillar to the far wall, glinting in the lamplight.

Liya walked in, fascinated, looking at all the evidence that Yoshi made things--the bolts of cloth leaning against the pillar, the canvas being stretched on the wall, the tray of paint pots beneath that. Yoshi followed her, sweeping his hair over his shoulders anxiously.

"I am so sorry about the other night," he was saying, but Liya wasn't really listening. Nailed to the pillar was a collection of small coppery discs all hooked together, which she touched very gently, making them jingle. "Between Shinobu and, ah...th-the whole slaver thing..." Yoshi leaned against the pillar, arms folded tightly, sighing. "What a disaster."

There was an open sketchbook on the table, a home-made thing full of thick paper. On the open pages were angular, soft sketches of deer-like animals, done in smudgy charcoal, some overlapping each other. Liya leaned over to study them interestedly.

"I just thought you'd like to get out for the night," Yoshi added, somewhat morosely. Liya straightened up.

"I ain't mad," she told him, brow knitting. "Did you draw this?"

"Oh," Yoshi said, looking surprised. "Yes."

"Wow," Liya said, and turned to look again at the drawings. "I didn't know you could draw so well."

Yoshi flushed with embarrassment, but smiled slightly all the same. "Ah...thanks."

Liya put a hand on her hip and looked around the room again. "Where's all this stuff come from?" she asked. "Wasn't this room empty the last time I was in here?"