“I don’t know, Matron,” she said, lowering her eyes in a gesture of respect. “I heard the screams and came to see. It appears that she fell.”
“What’s going on here?” Camini, the Mistress of the House of Pleasure, pushed her way through the crowd and stopped at the sight of the girl on the ground. “Oh, no.” She knelt by the body and ran her hand over Atiy’s soft, pale hair. “Oh, Atiy, my little rock dove, what has happened to you?”
Before Matron had sent Nisha with her first message to the House of Pleasure, Nisha had pictured Camini as an ethereal, seductive beauty. But the mistress was a short, plump woman with a thick braid of dark hair that reached almost to her knees. She was quick with a laugh and with her anger, and Nisha had never seen her cry.
Camini was crying now, soft, wounded sobs that tore at Nisha’s heart. Matron knelt down next to the mistress, placing a hand on her shoulder and speaking in a low voice. “I feel your sadness. But the girls are terrified. We need to stay in control, for them.”
Camini wiped her tears, smearing the kohl that lined her eyes. It was such a vulnerable gesture that Nisha winced. For the first time, she saw the dead girl not just as a terrible accident, but as a loss, a hole ripped in the lives of the people who cared about her.
That she hadn’t thought of Atiy as a real person yet, just as a dead body, made Nisha nauseous. The borrowed asar seemed to burn her skin, and she itched to get it off, before anyone else saw her discomfort. She wanted away from this place of death.
Gesturing to Jerrit to follow her, Nisha edged away from Matron, Camini, and the small crowd around them. The girls who remained were from the House of Pleasure, their red asars showing underneath their open cloaks, hoods pushed back as they whispered in low, distressed voices. A few cried silently as other girls tried to comfort them.
Nisha walked quickly until she reached the sheltering shadows of the hedge maze. She stopped and took a deep breath, rubbing her hand over her face. “Poor Atiy …”
Who’s Atiy? And what was all that screaming for?
A cat with spotted fur the color of iron and a mind-voice like smooth steel slipped out of the hedge. All that commotion ruined a perfectly good hunt. She licked her lips, revealing the gleam of sharp teeth. It was a nice fat wood swallow, too.
Hello, Esmer, Nisha sent. A girl just jumped off the roof at the House of Pleasure. Or fell.
Or was pushed, Jerrit sent.
Nisha ignored Jerrit. Girls had been hurt in the City before, but no one had ever been murdered. The founding principle of the City was that it provided a safe place, a refuge, for unwanted girls. The idea of murder in this place was unthinkable, and more than a little frightening.
“I’ve never seen Camini cry before,” Nisha murmured. “It was so sad.”
Someone died? That explains the screaming, Esmer sent, flicking her tail. Poor child.
“But it has nothing to do with us,” Nisha said, surprising herself with her own vehemence. Something about Camini crying over Atiy’s dead body had shaken her, made everything feel dangerous and fragile.
“I have to go see Tanaya,” she said quickly. “I need to give her this asar back before I get into real trouble with it.”
Nisha started walking again, using the high wall of the hedge to shield her from Matron’s sharp eyes. She heard the cats’ voices buzzing in the back of her mind, but she didn’t bother listening. Nisha often wondered why no one else heard the cats’ soft mental voices. She had asked Esmer about it when she was younger, but the gray cat had just said they didn’t want to talk to anyone else. And Nisha had stopped asking. It felt as if the cats were here for her, protecting her, and as unlikely as that was, she preferred it to any other explanation.
Nisha tripped yet again over the hem of her borrowed asar and let out a grunt of frustration. “Why did I let Tanaya talk me into this?”
She was still grumbling when she left the maze and headed for the House of Flowers. It was much like all the other Houses on the outside, with the same weathered red brick and the same copper-framed windows. But there all resemblance ended.
Nisha pushed open the heavy doors. Spotless marble stretched beneath her feet like a carpet of frost, cold and smooth under her thin sandals. The high foyer ceiling shimmered with inlaid stone, vivid blues and greens in the pattern of a peacock’s tail. A broad marble staircase dominated one end of the room, with two smaller staircases branching out on either side.
The hall had an imposing quiet that always made Nisha feel overly tall, with too many hands and feet. She adjusted her overrobe and crept toward the stairway.
Glimpses of opulence whispered behind half-open double doors. On one side, a mirrored ballroom reflected endless Nishas as she passed. The adjacent banquet room held a table that gleamed like water. On the other side was the library and a throne room, its practice throne made of polished teak and carved with flowers.
On the night of the Redeeming, the City hosted an elaborate masquerade right in the House of Flowers. It was the culmination of the long day, a grand party designed to show off the remaining novices in the best possible light. The mirrored hall would hold musicians and dancers, the long table would be covered with the finest food, and the House would be full of all kinds of people: nobles, healers, merchants, and of course, dozens of novices in masks and special asars, each one waiting for the formal announcement that she had been spoken for.
This year, Nisha would be one of them. On her sixteenth birthday, Matron had told her that it was time to attend the Redeeming, to try to find someone to speak for her. Nisha briefly wondered what price the City Council would post for her, an errand girl with little formal training within any one House. It couldn’t be much. Some people came to hire, knowing they would find well-trained girls eager to work. Those fees were reasonable. She could be spoken for as an apprentice or an assistant—
Or as a wife. Nisha put a hand to her face, remembering the way Devan had touched her cheek earlier. Yes. This was the year she’d finally get away from the heavy walls of the City, find a life of her own somewhere. Even though Nisha felt safe in the City, it wasn’t enough. She felt restless here, confined inside the high walls. She wanted to find someplace to belong, someplace where she could be free.
“What are you doing?”
Nisha almost jumped through the roof, she was so startled. She whirled around to see a House of Flowers tutor emerge from the library, a rice-paper scroll in her hand. She wore a brown silk asar patterned with fig leaves. Nisha knew there was a message in that particular pattern—there were messages hidden in all House of Flowers asars—but she had no idea what it was.
The woman’s hair was pulled back tightly. She looked at Nisha’s feet, and a scowl creased her face.
Nisha looked down and realized Esmer and Jerrit had followed her inside. Out! she scolded them in her mind. You’re not allowed in here!
Jerrit’s eyes blinked once. Sorry. He exchanged a glance with Esmer. The cats trotted away, and right before they slipped out the door, Nisha heard Jerrit send I don’t like leaving her alone.
I know, Esmer sent, her mind-voice so low that Nisha barely caught the words. But we can’t draw attention to ourselves. Not with the Council crawling the City. Be patient.
Nisha had only a moment to wonder what they meant before the tutor cleared her throat. Nisha bowed, palms pressed together at her chest.
“Forgive me for not closing my eyes against the glow of your wisdom, Wise One. How may I best serve you?”
The tutor didn’t return the greeting but demanded, “What are you doing in that asar?”
4
A JOLT OF anxiety shot through Nisha. Looking down, she saw that her overrobe had fallen open to reveal the lotus-pink silk and white jasmine flowers of Tanaya’s asar. The white blooms were the same color as the marble floor. The asar was perfectly suited to the elegant hall.
“I don’t understand,” Nisha said, stalling for time. The woman was new here, someone she’d never seen befo
re. Maybe Nisha could bluff her way out of this.
The woman’s lips tightened further. “That,” she said, “is an invitation asar, worn to flirt with potential suitors. It is inappropriate to wear it for everyday tasks.”
Nisha’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Despite her relief at not being recognized, she could feel her skin turn a dark red. When Tanaya had offered her an asar, she had assumed that the design would, if anything, communicate happiness or affection. But invitation? She was about to turn and run out of the building when Tanaya’s golden head appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Why, Mayrl,” Tanaya murmured with a finely honed sweetness. “Did you not tell me just this morning that courtesy is the jewel of the high castes? That only those of low breeding and training return politeness with blunt speech? Yet here you are, rudely scolding a student not your own.” She clucked her tongue. “Such a poor example you’re setting.”
The tutor opened her mouth, then closed it again. A flush touched her cheeks, and Nisha felt sorry for her.
Tanaya glided down the stairs, her fingers touching so lightly on the copper banister that they left no mark. She had changed from her Combat clothing into one of the elaborate costumes of the House of Flowers, a black silk asar embroidered with red flower petals. Tiny mirrors flashed and twinkled from her hemline, and thin copper bracelets jangled on her wrists. Against the pure white of the stairs, the older girl glittered like a mosaic made of jewels.
“Why don’t I speak with her?” Tanaya asked. “Surely you have more important things to do than concern yourself with this trivial thing.” She flicked the folding bamboo fan she carried, an obvious gesture of dismissal.
The tutor bowed. “Of course, Tanaya. I leave her in your capable hands.” Turning her back on them, she left, her asar swishing the marble floor.
“Quick, Nisha, come upstairs, and put on something else!” Tanaya took Nisha’s arm. “Did you see the look on that woman’s face? She couldn’t have been more horrified if you’d come dressed as a Kildi.” She dragged Nisha up the satin-smooth staircase and opened the door to her bedroom, shoving Nisha inside.
“A flirting robe?” Nisha whispered furiously. “You gave me a flirting robe?”
Tanaya sank down on her narrow reclining couch, set down her fan, and pulled off her ruby-spotted sandals. “It’s so nice to sit down.” She caught Nisha’s eye and laughed. “Of course I gave you a flirting robe.”
Sick with embarrassment, Nisha pulled off her own sandals and collapsed onto the thick woven rug. “This is awful. How will I ever face him again?”
“You worry too much,” Tanaya said with assurance. “I gave you the robe that communicates flirtatious intent and affection, not the one that indicates that you might have an affair with him. I thought it might help.”
“Help what? Help embarrass me?”
“Of course not,” Tanaya said, a sharp edge to her voice. “I just thought Devan could use a push or two. If he’s serious, he’s being terribly slow about telling you.” Her face softened, and she reached to put a hand on Nisha’s shoulder. “I’m sorry if I was presumptuous. It’s just … if he speaks for you, you would come live at court, with me. We could still be friends. Wouldn’t that be nice?”
Nisha let her gaze wander around Tanaya’s room and tried to collect her scattered thoughts. Parrot-green silk draped the walls, and an open window let in fresh air. A hint of cinnamon incense floated in from outside. Nisha thought of her own windowless room with its rough floor and peeling walls. If she became a noble—like Tanaya would be soon—she could have a room like this, a sky outside her window, and a carpet thick as grass under her feet.
“I do wish you had told me, Tanaya.”
Tanaya opened the carved chest in the corner. She pulled out Nisha’s Combat tunic and handed it to her. “If I had told you, you would have said no. And I am sorry. But what happened? Did you ask him if he’d speak for you? What did he say?”
“I never got the chance.” Nisha thought about the blood in Atiy’s pale hair and swallowed hard. “There was an accident at the House of Pleasure, and I had to leave.”
“An accident?” Tanaya’s hands played with the necklace at her throat, a web of lacy gold set with rubies that the High Prince had sent for her birthday. “What happened?”
Nisha slid the combat tunic over her head. Someone—probably servant—had brushed the dirt off it and perfumed it with rose extract. The fabric felt smooth and cool against her skin, and the smell was worlds away from the rough soap Nisha used to wash her own clothes.
“A girl fell off the roof at the House of Pleasure. Or jumped, we don’t know yet.” She closed her eyes. “I saw her. It was awful.”
“Oh, Nisha, how terrible. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. But can we talk about something else?” Nisha indicated the golden chain that wove through Tanaya’s hair and the ruby that hung over her forehead. “I see you get to play empress tonight.”
A flush stained her friend’s light skin. “Oh, you know,” she said with a forced laugh. “Playing empress is all about receiving supplicants and directing servants, and leading at dinner. It’s almost as boring as etiquette lessons.”
Nisha grinned. Most of the girls in the House of Flowers loved pretending to be empress. But most of them were being groomed as the wives of lesser noblemen and second sons, men who had nothing to do but play palace games, attend balls, and attend to the provincial affairs of their own estates. All they would need to learn was how deeply to bow to each member of the Imperial family, and the intricate languages of dress, fan movements, and poetry.
Tanaya was different.
“Only you would prefer economic history to playing empress,” Nisha teased.
Tanaya shrugged her graceful shoulders. “High Prince Sudev requested a well-read and intelligent woman. I don’t want to disappoint him.”
“You won’t,” Nisha said. “How could you? No girl in the history of the City of a Thousand Dolls has been trained in every House before. You know more of the intricacies of history and court customs than anyone in the City, novice or tutor. You could even defend the prince with daggers if you had to. How could he not love you?”
“Love has little to do with anything, Nisha. Especially since the prince and I have never met.” Tanaya settled into her reclining couch and tilted her head back. “Sudev is taking a wife from the Houses because the Emperor wishes it. The grumblings against the two-child system are getting louder. Our marriage will show the Empire that the system works, that the City of a Thousand Dolls is a good place for unwanted and orphaned girls. But the prince won’t take a City girl who is inferior to him, not even to please his father. I have to prove that I’m his equal.”
Nisha shook her head. She couldn’t imagine the prince thinking Tanaya was inferior.
Tanaya let out a breath and rose from the couch in one fluid movement. She extended her hand to Nisha and helped her up. Nisha caught her friend’s wrist, frowning at how thin and brittle it was, how light and quick the pulse felt against her fingers.
“Tani. Is everything all right?”
Tanaya gave a little laugh. “I’m fine. I just haven’t had much of an appetite lately, and sometimes it’s hard to sleep. The excitement …”
There was a loud knock at Tanaya’s door. “Mistress Tanaya, the House Mistress wishes to speak with you before dinner,” a servant called.
“I’m coming!” Tanaya snapped.
She picked up her fan. To Nisha she said, “I’m sorry. They just won’t leave me alone. There’s an envoy from the palace coming tomorrow. I’m supposed to spend the whole day in the Council House, serving tea and making polite conversation about my lessons. House Mistress Indrani probably wants to go over what I’m supposed to say. And what not to say.”
Tanaya picked up her sandals and smoothed her asar. “The prince might have requested an intelligent woman, but if I appear too smart, it might scare the prince’s councillors.”
&nb
sp; “I should be going anyway. I—”
“I’ll be all right, Nisha,” Tanaya interrupted, widening her fixed smile. “Once the masquerade is over and Prince Sudev and I are together, everything’s going to be perfect. For both of us. Trust me.”
Nisha rolled her eyes. “You always say that.”
“And I’m always right,” Tanaya shot back as she walked out the door.
When Nisha looked down to slide her sandals back on, a scrap of rice paper just by the door caught her eye. She scooped it up, noting the scalloped edges. Tanaya loved scalloped paper. She used rice paper with these borders to write poems on, the highest form of communication in the Imperial Court.
Nisha tucked it into her tunic without reading it and bit her lip. Her fingers still held the memory of Tanaya’s pulse, rapid and soft, like the wings of a trapped bird. No matter what her friend said, Nisha couldn’t help but worry about her. About both of them.
Esmer and Jerrit waited for Nisha outside the House of Flowers, but they weren’t alone. A girl about Tanaya’s age with cropped hair and the bronze wrist cuffs of a bond slave stood with them. Her pale-green tunic marked her as tied to the House of Jade; it was a lighter shade than the asars worn by Jade novices.
The girl looked up, her eyes narrowing, and Nisha breathed a prayer of thanks to the Ancestors that she wasn’t still wearing Tanaya’s court asar.
Of all the people Nisha could have been caught by, Zann had to be one of the worst. Zann would be only too glad to report Nisha’s infraction to Matron, or worse, Kalia, the Mistress of Order.
City of a Thousand Dolls Page 3
