"You have many questions. I understand. I will tell you some things while I prepare the tea. Sam will . . ." She glanced at the arched entrance to Sam's lair, which was about fifty feet away horizontally and ten feet up. A hint of mischief lit her eyes. "I have won a bet with Sam. He thought you would not be here for several more days. He is sulking, but will be down later."

Lily followed her gaze. The arch was high and broad, clearly shaped rather than natural. Shadows deepened to darkness immediately inside. She wondered how far back it went. Sam's lair in Dis had been flush with the entrance, not set ten feet up like this one. It had been part of an extensive cave system. She remembered the way Rule-wolf had forced himself to explore it in spite of . . .

A sudden shiver shook off the memory.

Rule caught her eye, his brows lifting in a silent question. Lily settled for a small shrug. It hadn't been her memory. Not precisely.

"Please be seated," Li Qin said. She moved to a bright blue cushion on the far side of the table.

That table was square and black, highly lacquered-and familiar. Lily recognized it, as well as the items laid out precisely on its gleaming surface-the rimless cups set in the tray, the small clay teapot and cha pan, the wooden teaspoon, the kettle. The rug was new, an inexpensive sisal. The rest were from Grandmother's store of treasures.

Why were they here? Why was Li Qin here, and not Grandmother?

For that matter, how was Li Qin going to make tea? Lily sat on a soft pink cushion; Rule lowered himself to the green one beside her. There was a kettle, yes, but no fire or heating element that Lily could see.

"I hope you will excuse me," Li Qin said as she began measuring tea into the pot with the wooden spoon, "if I begin the story immediately rather than engaging in more traditional conversation while I prepare the tea. I feel you are somewhat pressed for time, yes?"

"Yes," Lily murmured, relieved. To sticklers like Grandmother and Li Qin, this period would normally be spent in gentle inquiries into everyone's health and other such gripping topics. Innocuous conversation, in other words, that was supposed to relax people.

Not that Li Qin needed help relaxing. Her voice and expression were entirely calm as she began. "Two days ago, your grandmother asked me to stay with Sam for my safety while she dealt with the arrival in this city of an old enemy." She set the teapot in the cha pan-a large bowl-and lifted the kettle. "If you would, please, Sam?" She smiled at Lily, then at Rule. "I act as hostess, but you are Sam's guests. He takes part in the preparation of the tea, also. Ah, is it ready? Thank you."

Apparently Sam was the heating element. The water steamed as Li Qin poured it into the teapot, allowing it to overflow slightly. That's what the bowl was for-to contain water and tea intentionally spilled. Deftly she scooped out a few bits of debris and foam, then placed the lid on top and quickly poured the water into the cups. "This enemy is a Chimei. Do you know the word?"

Lily shook her head.

Having filled the cups, Li Qin emptied them. The first brewing was considered inferior and was used to warm and prepare the cups. "In China it is believed that many types of spirit creatures exist." She picked up the kettle, waiting for Sam to heat the water again. "Some are considered to be gui, which is that part of the soul that is separated from the higher soul upon death. Whether this is true of spirit beings I do not know, but it is not true of the Chimei. I am told the English word for such a being is demon, but it is a poor translation."

"Demon is what everything gets called," Lily agreed. "But it is misleading, as you say. As far as we can tell, demons as we know them in the West-the ones from Dis-never hung out in China. Grandmother told me that a lot of the Chinese folktales about demons are based on out-realm beings of different sorts, not spirits."

"That is so." Again she filled the teapot. This time, after replacing the lid, she continued to pour boiling water over the outside of the pot. "Dis does not connect well with China. Other realms do, however. Or used to. The Chimei is not from our realm."

Lily shifted, not liking the direction this was going. "And this Chimei is Grandmother's enemy. Why?"

"Many years ago, back in China, your grandmother killed the Chimei's lover." Li Qin held up a single finger, an expression of concentration on her face. Very swiftly she poured the tea.

"She-" Lily took a calm-me-down breath. The tea was poured. She had to appreciate it, not ask about unimportant things involving murder or survival. To do otherwise would be a terrible insult, and she could not insult Li Qin.

She gave Rule a look intended to convey this. He either caught her glance out of the corner of his eye, or he remembered her coaching from the time Grandmother invited him to take tea. He waited, as apparently unhurried as Li Qin.

Must have been the corner-of-the-eye thing. The moment Lily reached for her cup, he reached for his. Lily forced herself to hold the gently steaming cup near her face and at least look like she was appreciating the aroma-which was pleasant, of course, but did Li Qin really think Lily could pay attention to a scent rather than the fact that some unknown demon enemy was threatening Grandmother?

Apparently Rule could. "Entrancing," he murmured, his eyes half closed as if he were immersed in the experience. "How is it a scent can both stimulate and relax?"

Li Qin's smile held pleasure and a hint of surprise. "That is what the tea ceremony is for. We surrender urgency and clamor and find ourselves awake, calm, and able to focus. Do you have such a practice, also?"

"I am aided in this by my wolf." His gaze slid to Lily, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes. "Lily lacks such an aid."

"Lily is very like her grandmother." Li Qin took a sip of tea.

That was obviously false. Oh, she had some things in common with Grandmother, but in this they were totally different. Lily had never found sniffing and sipping tea interesting or transformative, but Grandmother clearly did. She immersed herself in the experience. She practically rolled around in all that calm, awake focus.

Obedient to the situation, though, Lily didn't argue. She sipped tea.

Rule seemed to be enjoying his. "I have wondered sometimes if Madame Yu was even more like Lily when she was younger."

Li Qin nodded. "I think she must have been, though I did not know Li Lei when she was Lily's age, of course. She is more mellow now."

Lily did not-quite-choke.

Rule quirked a brow. "Is she?"

"Oh, yes. She was very intense as a young woman. Much like Lily." She gave Lily a gentle smile. "More autocratic, I believe, but this is because she was born into a society that did not value females. She could not attach that lack of value to herself, and so concluded that she was exceptional. Circumstances have never detached her from this belief."

"Understandable," Rule said, while Lily sat dumbstruck at having Grandmother summed up with such tidy accuracy. "Since she is, in fact, exceptional." He smiled at Lily. "Much like her granddaughter."

Lily found herself smiling at him, because he meant it. Grandmother truly was exceptional. She wasn't, but Rule saw her that way.

"Li Qin," Rule said, gently setting down his empty cup, "I regret my need to bring up another subject, but we aren't here only in search of Lily's grandmother. We also need a safe haven for-"

Granted.

Memory shivered through Lily like sleet, tiny, stinging bits that melted when she tried to catch them. The voice that had spoken that single word was as cold and clear as the space between stars. And it was all in Lily's head. Literally.

Sam's voice.

EIGHTEEN.

TEN feet up and fifty feet away horizontally, a wedge-shaped head the size of a small car emerged from the shadows of the arched entrance. The base of that huge skull was decorated with a lacy frill the color of fresh blood that dwindled into a thin streak of color along the neck.

It was a very long neck.

Bring Cullen Seabourne here, Sam told them. He will be safe nowhere else, and we may need him. Think about his wound for a moment so I may see . . . Think clearly, if you are at all able. No mistaking the acerbity in that command. Ah. Blood magic, and it is sustained by his own blood. That may be tricky to unknot. I will assist. I expect I will dislike having him underfoot, but I concede the necessity.

"Mr. Seabourne is injured?" Li Qin said, distressed.

Rule spoke to her softly. Lily couldn't pay attention to his explanation, caught as she was by the sight of the black dragon leaving his lair.

Sam was a very large dragon, sleek as a serpent if wider in girth, his length upheld by four short, powerful legs ending in talons. The cop in Lily tried to guess his weight. Three elephants' worth? Four? How much did an elephant weigh, anyway? Were Sam's bones heavy like an elephant's, or light like a bird's?

She had no idea.

Black and steel, sleek and huge, with the origami folds of the great wings riding along his back, Sam flowed down that ten-foot "step" onto his landing pad like molten midnight.

This midnight, however, was the black composed of all colors, not their absence. He sparkled. In the morning sunlight his scales cast a rainbow iridescence-fugitive gleams of blue, purple, red, gold, and green.

Lily found herself on her feet. Impossible to meet such huge and deadly beauty while sitting on the ground. Rule, too, had stood. He took her hand. Even Li Qin rose, though somehow with her it seemed more a courtesy than an instinctive response.

Sam's landing pad was as wide as a football field and about twice as long. He settled himself into a comfortable coil that occupied some thirty feet of it. His head remained raised about twenty feet in the air as he looked at the two of them.

I greet you, Rule Turner. I greet you, Lily Yu.

For a second, Lily forgot to breathe. For a second she forgot all the safeguards and looked directly into eyes that were all black and silver, with no white at all . . .

Falling. She was falling and falling, air whistling past like the cold shriek of hell-then someone said, Remember!-and then she- "Lily." Rule's arm was around her waist. Holding her up. "Are you all right?"

"Dizzy." She shook her head, throwing off the lingering sensations. "It's passed now. I . . . It was the dream." He knew what she meant. The dream returned occasionally, though it wasn't really a dream at all, but a memory.

The memory of her other self. The one who had thrown herself off a cliff and fallen and fallen so the gate could be opened and the rest could return home from hell.

So Rule could come home. So he would live.

That self was part of her, part of her soul-but a largely voiceless part. Now and then, she touched those memories. They'd never made her dizzy before. Lily straightened and frowned at Sam. "How is it I can hear you, anyway? Shouldn't my Gift block mindspeech?"

Your essential nature is unchanged, I see, regardless of what you remember or do not remember. A faint whiff of amusement flavored the near-painful clarity of Sam's mental voice. You still acquaint yourself with the world through questions. Direct your questing to more urgent matters. Li Qin, you will continue with the story of the Chimei's history with Li Lei, as you understand it.

"Of course." Sedately Li Qin reseated herself and looked up at Lily and Rule. "Please sit. This will take a little while."

She waited while they did, then said, "Lily, your grandmother takes much pleasure in retaining the mystery of her past, even with her family. But it is not only for pleasure that she does so. Many places in her past cause her great pain, even today. The occasion of her enmity with the Chimei is one such time.

"She was a headstrong young woman, as I have said, and was raised by a mother who had . . . They called it demon blood in those days. Some in China still do. We would say she had a Gift, a strong Gift."

"What kind of Gift?" Lily asked, leaning forward slightly. "Grandmother didn't . . . Ah, I've always thought she wasn't born being able to turn tiger. Was I wrong?"

"No." Li Qin smiled faintly. "Nor was her mother able to. Li Lei's Gift was Fire, though there were other, less common aspects to her inheritance. She was an only child. Perhaps because of this, her father was indulgent. He allowed her many liberties which were uncommon for women at that time in China. Many in her family believed this unwise, but few withstood Li Lei, even then, when she was set upon a course. And her mother was, from what I can tell, a most unusual woman, and she wished Li Lei to understand her full nature.

"Sadly, Li Lei's mother died when she was thirteen. Her father remarried very soon. Li Lei blamed her family for this haste, believing they pushed the marriage on him. I suspect they did, for he was a prosperous merchant with no son. Her new stepmother gave him that son, as well as two more daughters, and attempted to steer Li Lei toward more conventional ways. Instead, Li Lei grew even more difficult to handle."

That, Lily thought, sounded inevitable.

Li Qin paused to sip at her cooled tea. "I am guessing at some of this, for she has not said these things exactly as I say them. I like the English expression: I read between the lines. But this much is true. One day when she was fifteen she was wandering alone on the mountain near her father's mine, which no well-brought-up young woman would do. And she met Sam.

"Perhaps it was this meeting which decided her course. I believe so. She says she would not have, later on, disobeyed her father had her stepmother not chosen so poor a husband for her. And truly, she was aware of what she owed her family, as any Chinese girl of that time must have been. But I believe she would not have accepted any marriage. She had been offered another choice, which was so very rare then for women. From that moment, she was set on becoming a scholar of magic."

Hmph. The mental snort was accompanied by a physical one, a gentle pulsation of warm, cinnamon-and-metal-scented air that startled Lily. Her head swiveled.

Sam's head rested in the dirt some ten feet away. He'd lain down fully and she hadn't even noticed, so riveted was she by the story Li Qin told of Grandmother's early life.

A scholar, indeed. For once the chill, precise voice was neither cool nor impenetrable. Emotions seemed to echo up from the depths of the mind behind the voice. . . fondness, amusement, joy, loss. Li Lei was not born to be a scholar. She was born to meddle.

"You would know." There was rebuke in Li Qin's voice.

Lily looked back at her, surprised more by the tone of Li Qin's voice than the content of her words. "Sam meddles?"

"Oh, yes." Li Qin looked as placid as always. "His meddling may be in service of a worthy goal. I believe he considered his goal with Li Lei worthy. He knew the Chimei would come to Li Lei's city, you see, and that great suffering and destruction would result. When he accepted her as apprentice, he did so with the hope that, when the time came, she would destroy the Chimei's grip on this realm."

Grandmother had been Sam's apprentice? Lily could not resist asking, "Was she, um . . . was she a human apprentice? Or is that when . . ."

"Oh, yes, she was human, and quite young to our way of thinking-only seventeen-when she ran off to Sam. I gather it was not unheard of for a dragon to accept a human apprentice, but it was most unusual."

Rule spoke. "I'm curious about why Sam would leave it to hope and chance and a young human woman to defeat this Chimei. It seems he could have dealt with her himself."

This time the puff of air smelled more of metal and ash than cinnamon. You know very little, man who is wolf.

"Then tell me more. Tell us."

Silence, both physical and mental. Then . . . You have stories, Rule Turner, that speak of the Great War. My people, too, fought in that war-and in its aftermath. The Chimei are like lupi in that they were created by an Old One involved in that conflict. Unlike lupi, they were not originally intended to be warriors. What do you know of the reasons for the Great War?

"Very little," Rule admitted. "I know many players and peoples were involved. I don't know most of their names, natures, or goals. I do know why my Lady fought. She fought for the right of the younger races to determine their own destinies."

You refer to the younger races as "they." Lupi are a very young race.

Rule shrugged. "Lupi belong to the Lady. We were created to fight for her goals, and our destiny lies in her hands and ours, jointly. I suppose I see us as different from other races that way."

Lily looked at Rule, taken aback. Didn't he think lupi deserved to determine their own fate?

Sam, too, seemed to find his statement curious. You do not find a contradiction in this? Did not the nature of your creation rob you of the very choice your Lady cherishes?

"The human part of me understands your question. The wolf considers it silly. The contradiction you see exists only in words. I could hunt more words in an attempt to explain, but they would be imprecise and, I suspect, unhelpful. Dragons are by nature supreme individualists. A dragon might have difficulty perceiving the truth of a race founded in both individuality and mutuality."

Humans are such a race, also.

"Humans are more conflicted about it."

Lily tried to grasp what Rule meant. The conflict between the needs of the many and the needs of the one-that, she knew about. People had been searching for the right balance there since they came out of caves, and maybe before. But she sensed there was more to what he said.

I am intrigued, Sam said after a brief pause. If you survive, I would speak more with you about this, but current troubles require the tabling of such digressions.

Your Lady has conveyed to you the essence of the conflict. The Great War was fought by many peoples for many reasons, but it was the deep dispute among some Old Ones which sparked it and made it so terrible. They disagreed over . . . We might say, over the amount of meddling they would allow themselves. Some attempted to hasten the maturation of the younger races through judicious meddling. Some opposed any interference. And some vigorously strove to shape the younger races.

The Chimei are the product of such reasoning. They were made by conjoining the patterns of multiple species, both sentient and nonsentient, physical and nonphysical. Their creator made them largely nonphysical so that if their physical portion was destroyed, they would not die, and could eventually reconstitute their physicality. He considered fear of death an evil force.

Had he stopped there, his children might have persisted more or less as he intended them, but he went on to remove fear from them entirely, believing it lies at the root of warped and dangerous choices.

He erred. Perhaps fear is an essential component of sentience, for the Chimei, unable to experience it themselves, crave fear. In the vast carnage of the Great War they mutated, becoming a species that actively feeds on fear. In the War's aftermath, they developed another skill. They already had mindspeech; they learned how to touch other minds to cause them to create waking nightmares.

"Like giant snakes," Lily burst out. "Or murderous yeti, or whatever someone fears. It's the Chimei who's doing that. She's making people see what they fear."

Yes.

She shoved to her feet, furious. "Why didn't you tell us? Warn us, let us know what we were up against. This Chimei had something to do with the attack on Cullen, didn't she? If you'd told us instead of making bets about when we'd show up-"

Quiet.