No, she had said. And refused to say more.
There had followed much discussion, in the course of which she learned that Rule intended to travel as a man for the rest of their journey. He had argued that a wolf was a difficult traveling companion to explain, even harder than a tall European man. This was true. She had discovered that they did not have dogs or wolves here, while Europeans were rare but not unknown. He could be a lái, he said, like her. She would have preferred that he return to wolf. He could move on three legs much better than on one. Also, for reasons she did not understand, her healing cantrip worked best when he was wolf. But it was his choice, and he chose to go on two feet.
Therefore, those feet had best be shod. Li Lei completed her bargain and slid the sandals into a net bag. Rule wanted boots, but boots needed to be fitted to the foot. He would have to wait until he could visit the shops himself. He was not yet up to that.
He might not be up to eating, either, but he believed that he must. The wolf was too hungry, he said. Li Lei trusted his understanding of his own limits, so last night had permitted him to eat some noodles with his broth. It had not seemed to harm him. Today he would have more substantial food. No meat yet, which was what his wolf craved, but meat would be too hard on his incomplete gut. At the market Li Lei purchased ci faan, baozi, and jianbing, placing the foodstuffs in one of the string bags she had bought, then set off for their room.
The nature of the street and the people changed as they neared the river. Fewer shops, shabbier people, not so many women. Not so many Gifts in passersby, either. Nulls did not prosper where magic was prized. She let her shoulders droop and moved differently—see, just an old woman, not rich, neither threat nor target—and added a smear of look-away. Not a strong smear; she could use only a trickle of magic without breaking the inversion with which she hid her power. But her string bags were full and she did not wish to be delayed by some hungry thief.
Li Lei turned off into a narrow alley between a sturdy warehouse and a disreputable building made of wood. The ground floor of the wooden building was a bar, although its proprietor referred to it as a teahouse. At the back of the “teahouse” was a set of ramshackle stairs.
“That will break if you lean on it,” she told the not-a-demon behind her as she climbed the stairs.
Gan immediately rattled the railing. “Huh,” she said as part of it came loose in her hand. “You’re right. Not a bad club, though. Or maybe Rule can use it for a walking stick.”
“It is too short for a walking stick for him.” Many things were too short for him in this world. The pants Gan had stolen for him last night, for example. They looked very silly on him. She would be doing more shopping later.
At the top of the stairs was an untrustworthy balcony, which gave access to three doors into the building. She went to the middle door and knocked. A moment later she heard the bar on the inside lift. The door opened.
Rule looked terrible. His face was pallid and beard-stubbled. With his shirt hanging open, both his wound and his ribs showed. But he stood on two feet without wobbling—which he should not have done. His healing had quite sensibly prioritized his gut wound, leaving the one in his thigh entirely unhealed. “I was hoping for pizza delivery.”
“You are feeling well enough to joke,” she informed him, approving.
The small room they’d rented was empty save for a single cot with a straw-stuffed mattress and the meager possessions they’d acquired: three blankets, three drinking cups, and three bowls. It was also empty of fleas and bedbugs. She’d seen to that. She could tolerate squalor if she had to. She saw no point in tolerating bugs.
“You did bring food, even if it isn’t pizza.” His nostrils were flared.
He would be unable to focus on anything else until he ate. She delved into one net bag. “This is baozi. It is a steamed bun with vegetables inside. Eat slowly. If you can digest it, you may have more later. And sit. You should not walk on that leg.”
He promptly folded to the floor more gracefully than should have been possible with a single usable leg and bit into the baozi.
“I’m hungry, too,” Gan said hopefully, flickering into full visibility.
Li Lei handed Gan two jianbing—crepes wrapped around eggs and vegetables with a spicy sauce—and took a bite of the third one, enjoying the hot brightness of the chilis. She had not purchased one of these for Rule. Spicy food would not be good for him. “I think you are right.”
Gan’s eyes widened in astonishment. “I am?”
“Yes. It will not work for you to stay dashtu on the next part of our journey. It is likely we would be observed speaking to someone who is not visible, and there is the problem of food. You can steal it, but on a longer voyage such thefts are likely to be noticed.”
“Good! Only I don’t look like anyone here.”
“No. You will be a mutant.”
“I’m not a mutant.”
“You will pretend that you are. Mutations are common here, and not all mutants are killed. That will explain your appearance. You will be the . . . bah. English does not have the proper word. The daughter of my husband’s sister’s son.”
“I’m not that, either.”
“We will lie.”
“Oh!” Gan beamed. “I like lying. I’m not very good at it yet, but I can lie if I try.”
“This will be good practice for you, and easier than many lies since you won’t have to utter an untruth. You cannot speak.”
“Of course I can!”
“That will be part of the lie,” Rule explained. He’d finished the baozi and was trying not to stare at the bag holding the rest of the food. “You’ll pretend you can’t speak. Since you can’t use the language here, it’s important that you not speak to anyone.”
Gan nodded. “That makes sense.” Then shook her head. “But if I can’t talk, how can I explain why I’m not talking?”
“We will explain for you,” Li Lei said. “Before you allow yourself to be seen, however, we must dye your hair. Even mutants here do not have blue hair.”