“I have good reason to believe he will not.”
And her tone of voice said clearly that she didn’t plan to share that reason. Hmm. Either this woman was so interested in the Codex that she’d go behind the dragon spawns’ backs to learn more, or she was playing good cop. No, Lily thought, she was definitely playing good cop. First the woman showed concern about Lily’s ankle. Next she answered some of Lily’s questions and offered advice on how to avoid offending her captors—and mixed her own questions in with her replies. Sound interrogation technique. The question was whether she was doing it on her own behalf, or that of the dragon spawn?
Assume the latter, play it safe, and say nothing? Or try stirring the pot?
What the hell. Playing it safe wasn’t going to change anything. “I suspect the one we call the Great Bitch doesn’t yet have the Codex—”
“Why not?”
“If she already had The Book of All Magic, she wouldn’t need allies, would she?”
Not-Helen was silent a moment. “I interrupted you. Please continue.”
“She doesn’t have it now, but believes she can get hold of it soon. Why else go to so much trouble to obtain me alive? Why else make her big push for world domination now? Sure, she’s always wanted to take over Earth, but all of a sudden she’s in a hurry. This suggests two things. First, she knows the Codex is on Earth. Second, she either knows where it is or how to find it, and she wants it badly enough to push her world-domination plans into high gear.”
The woman didn’t respond. That was encouraging, as it suggested Lily had given her something to chew on. Lily tried to feel encouraged as they reached the top of the hill . . . and looked out on medieval China.
A high wall snaked out from the left side, partly encircling a large expanse of meadow turned garden that must have been groomed over generations. A tall gate in the wall was open, admitting traffic—foot traffic, mostly. There were carts, but they were pulled by people, not horses or donkeys. The wall continued to the right of the gate until it was interrupted by a small lake, its surface a placid mirror dotted by a few boats, none of them far from shore.
Centered in the meadow was an enormous courtyard, perfectly square. Three sides of the courtyard boasted ornate buildings wearing the peaked hats of Chinese architecture. One of those roofs must have been gilded, for it was a blaze of gold in the sunlight. The others were the dull red of clay tiles. The fourth side of the courtyard, the one nearest the gate, contained a structure, too, but it seemed to be an oversized gazebo, being composed of pillars and a roof. From her vantage she couldn’t tell if there were walls set farther back, hidden from her view by the roof. There were people everywhere, but especially moving to and from the gazebo-like structure. A market, maybe?
In the center of the courtyard, a tower rose like a fat chimney that had lost its building, crowned by what, to her eyes, looked exactly like a giant Frisbee. The Frisbee was bright red. The buildings and the oversized gazebo were linked by tree-shaded walks. Several smaller buildings were scattered along those walks. The whole scene reminded her vaguely of pictures she’d seen of Beijing’s Forbidden City—the wall, the wedding-cake architecture—but these buildings were stone, not wood.
On the other side of the wall lay a river that emptied into the lake. On the other side of the river was a town. The buildings closest to the river were stone—not as large and ornate as the buildings in the courtyard, but still with fancy roofs. None was more than two stories high. Away from the river they dwindled into what she thought were wooden buildings, though from this distance it was hard to be sure—substantial at first, then becoming what were likely shacks. There were a lot of shacks.
A couple spots within the town—city? Was it large enough to be called that?—were oddly blank, holding neither buildings nor vegetation. Beyond the buildings were fields of growing things, a dirt road, and hills. A couple of the hillsides had been terraced into rice paddies.
At least that’s what she thought those stair-step fields might be. The hills were a long ways off, and she’d never actually seen a rice paddy. “What in the world is this place?”
“It’s not in your world at all,” Not-Helen said, amused.
“But the realm must have a name.”
“It has had several names. The Zhuren call it Wǒmen De.”
Lily lifted her brows. “‘Our Earth’?”
“They would translate it simply as Ours. Ah, there’s the rickshaw. They were slow—on purpose, I’m sure. Li Po’s men know how he feels about me.”
Now that she’d pointed it out, Lily saw a small, two-wheeled cart halfway up the winding path, being drawn toward them by a single man between the poles. It was made from a mix of bamboo and wood and looked uncomfortable. “Thank you for obtaining it, ah . . . the man who stole my gun called you Alice, I think?”
The woman who could not be Helen didn’t respond, though her pale lips turned up as if she were savoring some private joke.
Lily’s heart pounded as if she were about to say something dangerous. How absurd. If she was right, the danger existed whether or not she stated her guess out loud. If she was wrong, no harm done. That didn’t change the dread in the pit of her stomach. “Alice Whitehead, by any chance?”
“I am Báitóu Alice Li, though your manner of naming would make me Alice Báitóu. Báitóu, of course, means ‘white head.’” That pale smile didn’t change. “Helen Whitehead, whom you killed, was my twin sister.”
TWO
WHEN Rule awoke again, pain was not the entire universe. More like a tidal sea that waned and waxed with each breath. He floated on that terrible sea and reached again for Lily through the mate bond.
Alive. She was alive, but how could she be so far away? Where was she?
Where was he?
Not Dis. He knew that instantly, for he felt the moon’s song, distant but immeasurably soothing. He let that song ease him for a time, then gathered his thoughts to consider his situation. Lily might be inexplicably distant, but according to his nose, her grandmother was very close. And Madame Yu wasn’t a tiger anymore. He remembered that. She’d been a tiger the last time he woke. If she’d returned to her weaker form, she must not be expecting attack. Not immediate attack, at least.
He also smelled smoke and cooking meat . . . a campfire? Yes. He did not smell Gan except for a faint, lingering scent that seemed to come from his own body, as if the former demon had handled him while he was unconscious. But Gan did not seem to be close now.