Zero. The two realms, which had varied in time by as much as eleven hours out of twenty-four, were supposed to be exactly aligned in time at the hour when all hell was expected to break loose.
“And now,” Alice said, pushing her chair back and standing, “I have other duties.” She held out her hand. “You have done good work, Cynna Weaver.”
Frowning, puzzled, Cynna accepted her hand. They shook.
Alice held her hand out to Lily. “You have given good value for the payment I made you.”
Startled, Lily hesitated before taking Alice’s hand. Alice wouldn’t tell her what her Gift was, but she’d let Lily touch her? Then she shook Alice’s hand . . . and was really startled.
Alice’s magic was strong. That was no surprise. Really strong, and it vibrated against Lily’s palm in moving bands. A band of prickly heat—Fire—next to gritty Earth, next to the cool depths of Water, next to the windy motion of Air, next to something she couldn’t identify, though the texture was tantalizingly familiar. Never had she felt the four elements so vividly. Never had she felt all of them in one person. And they were moving.
The four elements plus . . . what? She should know what that was. She should—
Alice removed her hand. “I do not know if I will see you again,” she said in Chinese.
From the stairs came a voice Lily hadn’t heard since she first arrived. That of Li Po, First Fist. “It is doubtful. She will go to the bathhouse now, to be prepared.”
“Prepared for what?” Lily spoke in English, looking at Alice.
Alice responded in Chinese. “To be given to the Great One. You had guessed that much, I believe.”
Quickly, urgently, Lily reached out with her mindsense and didn’t worry about whether or not her lips moved. Grandmother.
It is good to hear from you, her grandmother replied. You are upset.
They’re taking me to the bathhouse, then they’re going to present me to the Great Bitch. I won’t be here to get that magic cage off Cynna. Can you do that?
I had best not try. I am likely to kill her.
But—but surely you draw magic into you—
Certainly, but drawing magic from a living being is very different from drawing from a node or ley line. You will need to do it. Your process must be different from mine. Perhaps you use a different metaphor.
Metaphor? What did a damn metaphor have to do with it? But if you can’t get the cage off Cynna—
“What are you doing?” Li Po demanded in Chinese.
Alice translated unnecessarily. “He wishes to know what you are doing, Lily Yu.”
“She’s praying,” Cynna said. “You just told her she’s about to be killed. Of course she’s praying.”
Li Po said curtly, “She can pray in her bath. Where is her woman? The yāoqiú who serves her? We must go.”
What do I do? Lily sent, frantic.
We can begin the battle here and now. Or you can go with the unpleasant man and have your bath, escape, and return here to remove the magic cage from Cynna. Or you can go with the unpleasant man, have your bath, and let him take you where he wishes. He may take you to the gate. That would be convenient. We could join you there and you could remove the cage device.
If he doesn’t take me to the gate—
Find out.
Right. She was panicking. That never worked. Lily took a deep breath just as hard hands gripped her arms. She’d been paying so much attention to her “prayers” that she hadn’t noticed the guards who now surrounded her. Not the usual pair of guards, either. Six of them. “Where do you take me, First Fist?”
“To the bathhouse.”
She managed not to roll her eyes. “And after that?”
“To the Zhu Kongqi.”
“At the Justice Court? Or at the Home of the Seven?”
He scowled. “What does it matter?”
She made herself drop her eyes modestly. “I would like to know if I should bid my friend good-bye.”
“Bid her good-bye? You have no time for that.” Then he added that single, hateful English word: “Come!”
TWENTY-EIGHT
LILY stepped out of the Zhèngyì Fǎtíng—the Justice Court—for what was surely the last time. The usual crowds had dispersed, and the Heart of the Heart looked strange and empty with only a few stragglers hurrying along the paths. It wasn’t that late, she told herself. The sun was headed down, but sunset was still a couple hours away.
She thought. She hoped. She wasn’t good at telling time by the sun.
She had picked Option Three. A version of it, anyway. She couldn’t let them take her to the Home of the Seven. It was one thing to try to escape from half a dozen guards, something else altogether to try to get away from Kongqi and his brothers. The spawn couldn’t use TK on her directly—at least she didn’t think they could. But they didn’t have to. They could telekinetically clobber her with any and all nearby objects.
She had nothing with her, no weapon of any kind. Her Glock, which she’d wanted so badly, was still in her cell along with the ammo. Cynna could use it, she supposed. Her hands weren’t tied, but Li Po had brought a full squad to escort her. Two guards marched alongside her, each of them holding one of her arms. The other three had their swords drawn . . . which was pretty stupid. Fist Second Fang wouldn’t have made either mistake—leaving her hands unbound or assuming that drawn swords were a good way to control her. And they needed to control her, not kill her. The Great Bitch wanted her alive. What if she preferred dying to having her brain wiped? She didn’t intend to commit suicide by guard, but Li Po didn’t know that.
Ah Hai trailed behind them. Li Po strutted in front. She suspected he wanted the kudos for turning her over. He was the sort of officer who pushed the work off on others, then claimed the credit. But his hunger for glory might work to her advantage. Li Po had never watched her spar with the guards, had he? He never seemed to show up at the jail.
She would wait until she entered the bathhouse to contact Rule. That was as much privacy as she was going to get. Ah Hai would be there, but Ah Hai was an ally. Lily had listened to both her words and her mind when she told her story, and they’d matched. A dragon might be able to lie with his mind—she wasn’t sure, but it was possible. Ah Hai was no dragon. She’d told the truth.
The truth as she knew it, anyway. It was possible that . . . oh, hey! That was Gan, running full-tilt down the pathway toward her, dodging pedestrians. Lily’s step hitched. She turned it into a stumble to slow her escort briefly, give Gan time to arrive. And sent her mindsense out.
Gan! Are you okay? Did you find the gate? And then because she couldn’t help it: It’s so good to see you! I wish I could hug you. I never got a chance to thank you for saving my life.
Gan skidded to a stop next to Li Po and started walking backward, a huge grin on her face. She wore her many-pocketed khaki once more, but the hat was new. And bright. Really bright, with all the red embroidery on that shocking shade of green. Li Po kept walking, utterly unaware of the presence beside him.