Cynna wished she could have talked to Lily before opening negotiations. Lily was the queen of questions. But at least she’d started thinking again, and some of her thinking time had been spent figuring out what she might ask the next time Alice showed up.
She started with big asks, stuff she wanted but didn’t expect to get. Sure enough, Alice wouldn’t tell Cynna why the spawn wanted the children or when the children would arrive. She wouldn’t admit she knew anything about the magical construct on Dis, either. She wouldn’t remove the magic cage, not even briefly. Cynna couldn’t get her to say one word about whatever arrangements existed between the Great Bitch and the spawn, though she did admit that Lily was part of those arrangements. That admission Cynna got gratis.
That’s about all she got, other than frustrated. They did manage to agree on the first payment. Alice would tell her more about wild dragons in exchange for Cynna passing on the spell verbatim. They’d agreed on that much when Cynna heard sounds on the stairs.
Feet, sounding heavy. Booted feet, she thought. And words barked out in a crisp voice. Chinese words, of course, so she didn’t know what the hell was said.
A moment later Lily arrived, wrapped in a blanket and carried by one of the guards. Her face was pale as pus. Her gaze darted around wildly. She was shaking, little tremors that traveled from head to toe. Cynna shot to her feet. “What the hell have you done to her?”
The guard with the blue armor came up the stairs behind the guard carrying Lily, issuing orders Cynna couldn’t understand. Another guard followed him. A small, odd figure brought up the rear, a tiny woman as pale as Lily, though her pallor looked permanent. Her hair was the same color as Cynna’s, but her features were Chinese.
Cynna strode forward. “Lily.” She reached out to touch her friend, but the man holding her knocked Cynna’s hand away, barking something at her. Lily’s lips moved, but Cynna couldn’t hear what she said.
“Fang does not want you to touch her arm,” Alice told her.
After that, a lot of Chinese flew around as the guard who held Lily carried her into the cell. Blue-Armor—whose name seemed to be Fang—Alice, and the healer all spoke, sometimes right on top of each other, though everyone had to pause when the pale little woman answered a question directed at her by Ah Li, because no one could have heard the woman’s whispers otherwise.
They didn’t all fit in the cell. Cynna managed to shove her way in. She was taller than any of them, after all. Or maybe it was the pure blind panic that did it. She fell to her knees beside Lily, who was still covered by that damn blanket. “Jesus, it must be eighty degrees in here! Are you trying to give her heat stroke? What the hell did you do to her?” As she spoke—yelled—she pulled back the blanket.
Lily jerked like she’d been shot, her eyes flying open. “No!” It came out hoarse, like she’d already shouted her voice away. “No, no, no . . .”
Her forearm was badly swollen. “Did you break it? What’s wrong with her arm? What—”
Hands on Cynna’s shoulders. “Come.”
Something in her snapped at hearing that damn word. She shoved to her feet and spun, aiming a blow at whoever—she couldn’t see right with her eyes all blurry and wet—but her goddamned arm, the splinted one, bashed into someone else’s body in the crowded space. Pain ricocheted through her. Her knees damn near buckled.
“Come,” the voice ordered again. It was Blue-Armor, she thought. Fang. He had hold of her elbow now.
Alice spoke in her maddeningly calm way. “Ah Hai believes the blanket necessary. She thinks Lily is in shock. Come out of the cell and let Ah Li see to Lily. She is a healer.”
“She can’t—Lily’s Gift—” Cynna’s voice hiccupped to a stop on a sob.
“She cannot heal Lily, but she can help. The Fist Second will remove you if you do not remove yourself. He does not want her to die.”
Cynna allowed herself to be propelled out of the tiny cell, but she stopped just outside it so she could look in. Alice had preceded her and Fang, leaving the two barefoot women in there with Lily. The healer knelt on the floor, running her hands along the length of Lily’s body without touching her and humming—a weird, atonal sound that shifted pitch unpredictably. She said something. Fang said something. One of the guards hurried off, heading down the stairs. The healer said some more things. The little blond Chinese woman was kneeling beside Lily, too. She replied in a whisper.
Cynna, too, whispered. “What happened to her? What’s wrong with her?”
Alice answered. “She was stung by a type of ant that may not exist in your world. The sting causes great pain—indeed, common lore has it that people can be driven mad by the pain, though I suspect this is hyperbole. I have not experienced it myself as the téngtòng mǎyǐ are not found here, but in the jungles to the north.”
Cynna licked her lips, which felt oddly numb. “Then how did they get here to sting Lily?”
“The sting, while painful, does not cause any lasting damage. Shock is not—”
Cynna rounded on her. “How the hell did those ants sting Lily?”
A fraction of a second’s hesitation. “Zhu Kongqi was conducting an experiment.”
Hate boiled up, so strong it made her shake. A tsunami of hate, pure and total, demanding action, a goal, a target—
The guard who’d been dispatched came trotting back carrying a pile of blankets and mats. He trotted right at Cynna. Her heart pounded so hard in her ears she couldn’t hear him, but she saw his lips move. Belatedly she realized she was blocking the doorway. Those blankets were for Lily.
She stepped aside. She was shaking.
The guards passed his load to the tiny blond-haired woman. She and Ah Li began rearranging Lily, propping her legs up, rolling one mat to create a support for her arm. Lily keened when they moved it. The sound made Cynna’s shaking worse. The two barefoot women murmured to each other some more, then the healer glanced over her shoulder at Cynna. She spoke.
Alice translated. “She wishes to know if Lily has diabetes.”
“No!” Cynna said, startled. “That is . . .” Could Lily have diabetes and not ever have mentioned it to Cynna? Even if that were true—and Cynna was pretty sure it wasn’t—if she had diabetes, she’d have brought medication with her. And she hadn’t. “No, I’m sure she doesn’t.” She thought a moment longer. “It’s been a long time since she ate, though.” They’d had some jerky before going into the small audience hall. At least Cynna had. She assumed Benedict had made sure Lily ate, too. Before that . . . Cynna wasn’t sure how long they’d been in hell. She didn’t know when or if Lily had eaten in the long day leading up to their departure. She dimly remembered that someone had forced her to eat at one point. Isen, yes. He’d threatened to tie her down and feed her if she didn’t eat. He’d probably meant it. She had no idea about the others. She’d been oblivious to everyone and everything except the need to get to Ryder. “A long time since she slept, too, if that makes any difference.”