Ai Ling shivered.
Chen Yong rolled his shoulders before sheathing the sword. The stranger remounted his horse, and they continued on their journey.
The moss-covered path started to slope downward. Ai Ling’s legs ached. They had been walking for hours. She wondered what the one-armed man’s city was like. Did they take baths? What did they eat? The sun cast its heat on their backs. Ai Ling drank from her flask, grateful she had filled it at the stream earlier. The path continued steeply downward until it rounded a bend to a plateau and a lush valley opened up below them.
She drew in a breath of disbelief. A wide river wound its way through the center of the valley like a silk ribbon. Seven arched bridges spanned the river. Both pedestrians and riders on horses with flame red manes crossed the bridges, intent on the tasks of the day. All had but one arm, some protruding from the left, others from the right. Her arms prickled at the sight of so many of them.
The valley was surrounded by mountains, their round, blunted peaks forming shapes to incite the imagination. Ai Ling saw a tortoise, the side view of a hare, and a farmer’s woven hat. The pinnacles stretched endlessly into the horizon, making it seem there was no other city beyond the one nestled in the valley below—no other kingdom.
“Are there other cities near yours?” she asked.
Their guide glanced over his shoulder and stared at her with three unblinking eyes. “We fly our chariots, and the journey is long. This is the reason I believe you are far from Xia.”
Ai Ling’s stomach fluttered with unease. No matter how gentle his manner, she was not comfortable beneath his scrutiny.
They reached the edge of the plateau. Water from tiered rock pools cascaded down the valley wall, iridescent, catching hues of turquoise, gold, and green.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Ai Ling said.
Their guide’s smooth face betrayed just a hint of pride. “There is none like our stair lakes anywhere. The waters in these pools formed from melting snow. The limestone was smooth-shaped by eons of water flowing.”
He guided his horse to wide steps carved between the stair lakes. They were also hewn from pale limestone, but the steps were wide and not steep, allowing the horse to step down with an easy gait. It appeared the horse had navigated them many times before. Ai Ling and Chen Yong followed.
The city was well laid out, with paths paved in white quartz. Ai Ling was used to dirt and, at best, cobbled streets. They walked past a tower with a domed top, bejeweled and sparkling in the afternoon sun. Another building was constructed of hexagonal tiers, in a material that appeared silver and also reflected the sunlight. She counted thirteen floors.
Another structure was built right on the river, with five rotating arms dipping into the water, spinning endlessly.
“It’s a different world,” Chen Yong said.
The strangeness of the place overwhelmed her, the unfamiliar shapes of the buildings, the glint of unknown materials. The city was stunning, but completely foreign. As were these people. She ached for home.
“I know not what yours is like,” their guide said from atop his horse.
“We never asked your name,” Ai Ling said, feeling foolish for having forgotten the simplest etiquette.
“We do not give our names so readily. But you may give yours to the Chief if this is usual to you. My people call me Archer.”
They continued to follow Archer, passing others on horse and foot. Although no one betrayed surprise, Ai Ling felt their stares. The paths were lined with trees and plants, many bearing fruit. She saw an apple tree and a diamondshaped fruit the color of bitter melon, as well as dark orange berries that resembled cherries.
Their guide led them to the six-sided tiered building. It reminded her of the pagoda paintings she had seen in books at home. This one appeared much sleeker in its design, the sides so shiny they reflected her image. The door was hexagonal as well, made of a dark green stone.
Archer dismounted, petted the horse’s fiery mane, and whispered in its ear. The beast flicked its head as if in response to its master, who stepped up to the green door. It split open in the middle like a gaping mouth, receding into the shiny walls. Ai Ling could see her own reflection, her mouth round as a circle. She looked at Chen Yong’s image and felt better—he seemed just as astounded.
“Come. The Chief expects us. Crimson Tail brought news after her hunt.”
Utterly confused for a moment, Ai Ling finally realized he was referring to his bird. She ignored the hollow feeling in her stomach, blaming it on hunger, even as her throat clenched with doubt. Chen Yong followed her down a narrow hallway, his hand tight around his sword hilt.
The chamber Archer led them to was bright, although windowless. A giant shaft at the center flooded the room with natural light.
Another one-armed man, dressed in a dark blue tunic and leggings, walked toward them. His hair flowed from a thick topknot, unlike their guide, whose hair was shaved close to the head. Ai Ling could not stop looking at the man’s hair; she had no words to properly describe the red color, had nothing to compare it to. The man’s eyebrows were so light she initially thought he had none.
Archer bowed his head low.
“Your pet sent news.” Ai Ling stared at his lips. His voice sounded like a woman’s, yet he looked like a man, nearly as tall as Chen Yong, broad shouldered and muscular. The bird was perched on his shoulder. He raised his hand in a graceful gesture, each finger bejeweled with large rings, and it flew back to Archer, both heads twittering in excitement.
The Chief took a seat and indicated for his visitors to sit before him, on the floor. The smooth white stone was cold, but Ai Ling was glad to rest. A small sigh escaped her lips. It did not seem very welcoming, to have them huddle on the floor. She had to arch her neck to see the Chief’s face.
“Crimson Tail said you come from the Land of Xia?” The Chief looked down at them with three curious eyes. They were not the same color. The middle vertical one was a dark green, and the other eyes a clear, light blue.
“Yes. I’m called Chen Yong, and this is Ai Ling. We’re trying to make our way back home.”
The Chief nodded. “I have heard tales of your people, but did not know them to be true or false. It astounds me to see someone so different from ourselves.”
He nodded to Archer in approval. “You have done well bringing this species to us. Take them to the third floor and strip them. The Anatomist will examine them.”
The words had barely sunk in when Chen Yong jumped to his feet, his sword already sweeping an arc in the air. But the sharp blade Archer pressed to the back of Ai Ling’s neck halted him.
“Do not be a hero, Xian male. You are outnumbered.” The Chief’s lips curved into a smile, revealing sharp white teeth.
Armed guards marched into the room until they lined the six walls shoulder to shoulder. Garbed in red, they carried tall staffs with hooked blades at the tip. Each one had hair shorn short, like Archer.
“We will not harm you. We want to examine and learn.” The Chief rubbed the fingers of his hand in obvious pleasure; anticipation. “Take them away.” He flicked his hand in dismissal.
“Relinquish your weapon, Xian male. Fight, and the Xian female dies first,” Archer said. Ai Ling bit her lip at her own rashness and stupidity. They would not be in this predicament if she had listened to Chen Yong—but she had been too stubborn, sure she was right. Chen Yong handed over his sword, the cords of his neck taut. Archer cocked his head to the door and escorted by guards, they started down the long hallway.
“The stairs in the back. Go.”
Ai Ling followed Chen Yong, with Archer behind her. Her mind raced. They were surrounded by guards—how could they possibly escape? She wanted to beg for Chen Yong’s forgiveness, stomp her feet in anger and frustration at her own gullibility.
Chen Yong walked with his back straight and stiff, his hands doubled in fists by his sides. She wondered if she could enter Archer’s spirit to search for knowledge. But could she keep herself walking at the same time?