“Let’s get back to the rebel base,” suggested Lei. “Can you walk?”
I nodded, though my insides ached. The lixia in my bloodstream was like a living thing, clamoring to escape. There was lixia in the air too, so heady and rich that breathing felt like sippingwine. The sky had darkened, but the stars loomed too close for comfort. As if the world were tipping on its axis, as if the realms were merging into one.
The reverberations deepened, until the mountains started to shake. A colossal oak tree groaned as its gnarled roots split the earth, and then, seconds later, the tree plummeted. Lei shouted and seized me, throwing us both to the side before the tree could careen into us. I heard the splintering of wood and stone, and then a loud crack, followed by another.
“Earthquake,” said Lei grimly. “I hope they evacuated the tunnels.”
More spirits were appearing in the sky, glowing more brilliantly than the stars. They were all headed for the city.
“Qi,” I rasped. “They feed on qi.”
The brilliant life force of the city and its throngs of people called to them, just as their lixia called to us. And yet, was that inherent hunger meant to be sated? What happened when we got the thing that we so desperately wanted, when we held it within the palm of our hand? Did it cease to be a thing of want? Or did we simply want more, and more, until the mere idea of balance became an impossibility?
Even my craving for lixia had lessened, the near constant migraines and nausea abating in intensity. But one problem had simply been replaced by another.
“Where are you, my little rat?”
I froze, ice creeping into my lungs.
“You can’t hide forever.”
I don’t need forever, I thought before gathering my qi. I imagined that willow tree by the Wen River, its long leafy branches, the way it shut out the sun, protecting the cool air within its expansive shade. I would be that shade.
I could feel Qinglong’s frustration, his mounting anger. It was barely a muted whisper, and then it was gone.
I smiled in grim victory.
My father had not given me much, but this he had given me. An ability to read emotions, and to guard my own. Living with his temper had necessitated it, and at the time, I had resented his mercurial nature. But now, I understood it to be a boon. This was why impulsion came naturally to me, as it did not to Kuro or even Sima. Because I was a woman, and I had grown up powerless. From this I had found my power.
“Is the dragon…?” Lei began.
“He can’t find me,” I said. “Not through impulsion, at least.” I straightened. “The rebel base—we’ll have to enter the city.”
Grimly, I surveyed the traffic leading up to Meridian Gate, which was backed up with overturned wagons and swarming masses of people. Some were trying to get out; others were trying to get in. It was total pandemonium.
“I know another way into the city,” said Lei.
“Of course you do,” I muttered.
We took a roundabout way through the woods, then scaled a low fence that led to an outdoor trading post teeming with people. In the frenzied, panic-stricken crowd, Lei and I went unnoticed. Although the air was feverish, we were far enough from the city center that the chaos had not reached here—not yet.
“I’ll give you a tael of silver for your mule! My son needs to see a physician, please—”
The bearded trader shook his head. “The hospitals will be flooded, miss. They won’t take any new patients. Not unless you have imperial connections.”
The mother was crying. “But…”
“Believe me, they won’t take your son when Warlord Liu himself barely has a bed.”
“What happened to Warlord Liu?” I interrupted, nearly tripping over a crate of barley in my haste to eavesdrop.
The trader turned a distasteful eye toward me. “Where have you been? They declared an official state of emergency a few hours ago.”
“Before the earthquake?” I asked.
He shot me an exasperated look. “Are you here to buy something or not?”
I reached into my pockets, which were, of course, empty. Thankfully, Lei slid a coin into the man’s hand. “We’re from out of town,” he explained.
