But Nisha was back in her House of Combat clothes now, and she had nothing to fear.
“Hello, Zann.”
The girl scowled, resentment radiating off her like heat from a cookstove. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Matron sent me to tell you she wants you in her study right now.”
Nisha bit her lip, trying not to respond to the girl’s snappish tone. Zann had been a novice once, a brilliant student in the House of Music. Now she was bound to the estate by a debt it would take her decades to repay. She blamed Nisha for her downfall, and sometimes Nisha wondered if she was right to.
“Why does she want to see me?”
“She didn’t tell me. I’m just a bond slave, remember?” Zann spit out the words. She touched the bronze cuffs at her wrists, the engravings that told the world what she owed. “But if you think that getting to go to the Redeeming this year means you can shirk your work, think again.”
“I’m not shirking anything,” Nisha said, stung. “I have free time for myself before dinner.”
“Not today you don’t. Like I said, Matron wants to talk to you. Maybe she’s thinking of making you earn your keep for once.”
Nisha ignored her and started walking toward the Council House. When she realized Zann wasn’t following her, she turned around.
“Aren’t you coming?” she asked Zann, unable to resist a dig. “I thought you’d be anxious to see me in trouble.”
Zann narrowed her eyes again, her scowl replaced by a smug look of self-satisfaction. “I have a meeting of my own,” she said. “And it’s far more important than yours.”
Nisha watched Zann turn on her heel and stride away toward the hedges.
As her eyes followed the angry girl, she caught sight of something else. Josei, leaning against the side of a gardener’s shed, eating a fig.
5
ESMER HISSED AT Zann’s retreating back. That girl can hold a grudge like no one I’ve ever known. What happened to her wasn’t your fault.
Nisha sighed. If it’s not my fault, then why have I always felt so guilty?
Esmer didn’t answer.
They maneuvered their way through the maze, Nisha running over the things Matron could want to talk to her about.
“I cleaned the study and the library today; it’s not that,” she muttered, talking mostly to herself. “And I’ve already given her mail to Devan. Something has come up that needs to be done for the Redeeming, maybe.” She wasn’t usually needed at this time of day. What was the emergency?
Someone did just die, Esmer sent. That’s emergency enough.
True. Nisha conceded. As long as Matron hasn’t found out about Devan…
Fear touched her spine. The trouble she would be in if Matron thought she was flirting would be nothing compared to the danger she’d be in if it was discovered she was in a relationship. If Devan uttered a word about them to anyone, it was Nisha who would suffer.
Silence was critical, at least until the Redeeming. Nisha hadn’t even planned on telling Tanaya, but one day, hoping for a letter from Prince Sudev, Tanaya had insisted on coming along to pick up the mail. She’d said nothing, just watched Devan and Nisha awkwardly try to carry on a casual conversation in front of her. But as soon as Devan rode out of sight, she’d pounced on Nisha and demanded to know what she thought about the handsome courier. Nisha had confessed that she found his personality as charming as his appearance—and that the previous week, he’d kissed her. Ever since, Tanaya had been pushing the two of them together any chance she got. She was confident that if Nisha only said and did the right things, and showed him how she felt, Devan would agree to speak for her. Nisha wasn’t sure it would be that easy.
In the privacy of her own thoughts, she could admit to herself that she hadn’t asked Devan to speak for her yet because she was afraid: afraid of the tar’Vey family, favored above all the other noble families by the Emperor; afraid that she’d misunderstood Devan somehow. Could a Flower caste noble want to marry a girl of mysterious parentage? A foundling?
Nisha touched the tiger mark under her collarbone and the questions that had haunted her for her entire life came tumbling back. Had her parents inked the mark into her skin? If so, why? Was it a connection to her lost family, or as Matron claimed, was it just a birthmark that meant nothing and that happened to look like a tiger? Whatever it was, it was strange, not like any caste mark she’d ever seen.
Don’t do that, Jerrit sent, brushing her leg.
Don’t do what?
Jerrit sniffed. Every time you touch that mark of yours, I know you’re wallowing and feeling sorry for yourself.
I am not, Nisha sent.
You are. Esmer’s words were sharp. And it’s not doing you any good. You need to think about what’s ahead. Things don’t smell right. Haven’t you noticed how closely the tribe is following today?
Nisha had seen that the other spotted cats were pacing alongside them, blending into the trees and bushes along the path like watchful shadows. She stopped, a shiver of unease creeping down her back. Esmer, what’s going on? What do you smell?
Change and trouble, Esmer sent. Things are shifting. We all smell it. The balance is changing. I don’t like it. And I don’t like you being in the middle of it.
Nisha’s shiver turned into full-blown chills. The cats’ sense of smell was unbelievably sharp. They could smell fear and tension, sense danger better than any human she’d ever known. Besides Jerrit and Esmer, the dozen or so cats in the tribe seemed to tolerate her with gentle amusement, but they rarely involved themselves in her life, in the life of the City. If what they sensed had the whole tribe worried…
Jerrit gave her leg a light scratch. We won’t let anything happen to you, Nisha.
“How can you be sure?” Nisha asked out loud. Worry threw thorns into her voice. “You can’t fix this, Jerrit. You’re just a cat.”
Jerrit lowered his head, his tail drooping. Remorse choked her before she even finished speaking, and Nisha dropped to her knees, gathering the cat into her arms.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered into his soft fur. “I say such stupid things when I’m scared.”
Esmer nuzzled her arm. Jerrit’s right. We won’t let anything happen to you.
Nisha scratched around the bases of Jerrit’s ears. I know. Forgive me?
Jerrit looked up, his golden-brown eyes light. On one condition.
What is it? Nisha asked, almost falling back as Jerrit leaped from her lap.
Race you to Matron’s!
He took off low across the ground, as Nisha scrambled to her feet. Cheater! she sent, and ran after him, laughing.
They ran all the way to the Council House, a sprawling building several stories high. It held Matron’s set of rooms as well as Nisha’s tiny sleeping space. There were spacious kitchens, rooms for visiting Council members, and a chamber where the Council sessions were held. There was even a large library with a fireplace, the favorite napping spot of the old Council Head.
The previous Council Head had been a white-haired elderly man, stooped and gentle. To no one’s surprise, he had passed peacefully in his sleep not long before. Nisha didn’t know who the new Council Head might be, but she hoped he’d be like the old one, content to let the City run on its own, under Matron’s watch.
The high, sharp-cornered Council House towered over the rest of the estate. Nisha slowed her steps as she approached its broad stairs. She felt suddenly vulnerable, as if the building were reaching for her, threatening to crush her under its weight.
Two Council members walked down the stairs. The man wore a knee-length tunic of fine linen and a matching vest worked in tan and silver. The woman was dressed in a blue-gray asar with a hem design of black lions, and she carried a sheer silver scarf. Their steps were hard and certain. Nisha kept her head down, hoping to slip past unnoticed.
She didn’t succeed.
“Girl.” The hook-nosed man held out a hand, palm down, and gestured her to them. “Come here.”
Nisha turned, eyes still down, her posture bowed and submissive. The City Council made her nervous. The appointed nobles normally lived in the capital city of Kamal and came to the City only a few times every year to discuss important business. But this year marked the first time a member of the Imperial family would claim a girl from the City of a Thousand Dolls. The Council members seemed determined to oversee everything personally.
“How may I serve you, sir?” she asked.
The woman lifted Nisha’s chin. Her fingernails were long and pointed like the claws of an eagle.
“Are you Matron’s girl?” she asked.
Nisha nodded, willing her emotions to stay hidden.
The woman looked at the man. “Akash is right. She’s young and she looks strong.”
Her companion walked around Nisha, looking her up and down. “She’s not a great beauty by any means. But she’s not painful to look at either. And Matron says she’s willing to work, and very efficient.”
The woman dropped Nisha’s chin and wiped her fingers with a handkerchief. Then the pair continued on, leaving Nisha trembling on the steps. “Her price won’t be enough. But I suppose it’s a start....”
Jerrit, hiding in a nearby bush, leaped up beside her. What was that? They usually ignore you, don’t insult you to your face. They inspected you like you were a horse going to market!
Tears burned in Nisha’s eyes. They’re just discussing my Redeeming fee, she sent. Go with Esmer. I’ll call you when my meeting with Matron is over.
They are wrong, you know. You are beautiful.
Jerrit’s words erased the last of Nisha’s urge to cry. Well, as long as you think so. She reached down and ran her fingers through the short fur of his head. Jerrit rubbed his nose against her hand.
What do you suppose Matron wants? he asked.
I don’t know, Nisha sent. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a flash of rust-brown asar around the corner. But when she looked again, there was nothing there. But with a girl dead, I’m guessing nothing pleasant.
As Nisha approached Matron’s study, she heard low voices. One was Matron’s.
“Are you sure you have no other girls in your House who might be suitable?”
“No.” The other voice was Camini’s, and it sounded clogged, as if the House Mistress was still fighting tears. “Not for this. Not to be a secret mistress.”
Nisha ducked into a nearby side hallway, out of sight of anyone who might come through the study door. Atiy was training as a secret mistress? Nisha’s sympathy for the girl deepened. Secret mistresses were girls chosen for their beauty, and trained in all the arts of pampering and pleasing men. They lived in isolation, could be cast aside for the smallest infraction—and when they were cast aside, they had no one. Because they were trained and kept in secret, it could happen that no one knew a secret mistress existed. Atiy must have been kept completely isolated, living in her room alone.
I might jump off a roof myself, Nisha thought.
Matron and Camini exchanged a few more words, so low that Nisha couldn’t hear them, and Camini left. Nisha waited until the woman’s footsteps had died away, then stepped back around the corner and headed for Matron’s study.
Matron sat at her low writing table, her head bent. Nisha tapped her finger on the doorframe.
“Come in and shut the door, Nisha,” Matron said, waving her in, palm facing down.
Nisha did as she was told and stood in front of Matron’s desk, waiting. Matron’s study was a comfortable room with low chairs, a wall of shelves, and a woven rug of black and cream. A birdcage in the corner held a gray parakeet. The room smelled strongly of ground sandalwood, incense that Matron used only when she was disturbed or upset. It made Nisha’s nose twitch, and she tried not to sneeze.
Matron moved her papers to one side of the desk, then after a few seconds moved them back to the other side. Her hands trembled. Nisha watched her curiously. She’d never seen Matron like this.
Matron finally placed her papers together in a neat pile and took a deep breath.
“Nisha”—she paused—“Nisha, do you know why I chose you as my assistant?”
The question was so unexpected. All the theories she’d had since she was a little girl flew out of her head. “You always said I was too old to train,” she said slowly. The words stung as they left her lips.
Nisha closed her eyes, remembering the day she’d come to the City of a Thousand Dolls. The cold stone at her back and the smoothness of a carved toy cat in her hands. A gift, her father had said. Spotted cats are good luck. This one will look after you.
Then he had kissed her on the forehead and told her to sit near the gate and not go anywhere while he gathered mushrooms.
He had never come back, and Nisha hadn’t seen her mother again either. Eventually Nisha had accepted that she, like the other girls, had been abandoned. Sometimes she wondered what her parents had found so awful about her that they’d left her here.
Once Nisha realized that her parents weren’t coming back, she had begged Matron to let her go into a House as a novice. To dance at the House of Music, or to train at the House of Combat, anything to give her a place to belong. But Matron had always said that the Council’s decision was that she was too old to make a proper novice. If she’d come to the City as an infant, like most of the girls here, it would be different. But Nisha had been six when she came to the City.
Nisha opened her eyes, chasing the memories away. “I don’t know, Matron. I thought it was the only place you could find for me.”
Amusement flashed across Matron’s face. “I could see why you would think that,” she said. “But we could have given you to one of the House Mistresses as an assistant too, or put you to work in the kitchens.”
“But I served you,” Nisha said, wondering at the exchange. “Why?”
A momentary bitterness twisted Matron’s mouth before her face smoothed into her normally placid expression. “I didn’t have much choice,” she said. “For reasons I can’t discuss, I was forced to be your advocate. But I don’t regret it. You have been invaluable to me as an assistant and as a source of information.” She hesitated. “And I’m afraid that your value to me has put you in danger.”
Nisha burst out with a nervous laugh. “Who cares about me?”
“No one, usually,” Matron said with blunt cruelty. “But the new head of the Council, Akash tar’Vey, does.”
Nisha held herself perfectly still, masking the jolt of surprise she felt at hearing the tar’Vey name. The new Council Head was a member of Devan’s family?
Unease crawled like a long-legged mantis over her skin. This appointment gave the tar’Vey family even more power. Made it even less likely that they would ever let Devan speak for her, even if he did want to go to his family with the idea.
Nisha held her breath and waited for Matron to mention Devan. But instead, Matron said something completely unexpected.
“Nisha, today the City lost a novice, one who was spoken for by a very wealthy and powerful man. A man who has already paid us a great deal of money. If we cannot find a girl to replace her, then we will have to pay him back. Akash tar’Vey believes he has found an easy way to quickly get some of the money we need.” She took a deep breath. “Nisha, the Council wants to sell you.”
Three things should never be trusted
The scales of a rival
The gold of a Kildi
And the smile of a nobleman
Bamboo caste merchant’s proverb
6
“SELL ME?” THE words echoed in Nisha’s head like the ring of a gong. For a moment, she thought she had heard wrong. “They don’t own me.”
“No,” Matron said, “they don’t. But you have no caste or family, like most of the servants do, and you have not been accepted as a novice in the City. You can claim the advantages of neither novice nor servant. Akash says that makes you the perfect choice.”
“You mean no one will miss me. They can just tak
e me and sell me, like they do slaves, and no one will care.” Fear roared in Nisha’s ears. “But I’m supposed to go to the Redeeming!”
“The Council thinks they can sell you for more money than you would bring in at the Redeeming,” Matron said firmly. Then she sighed. “Nisha, listen to me. This isn’t about you. Akash is trying to get rid of me. He wants to replace me with another tar’Vey to increase his family’s power. But first he has to convince the Emperor that I’m incompetent. And taking away my eyes and ears in the Houses is the first step. So far, he hasn’t had any way to get to you, but today … that changed. If the Council wants to take you and sell you as a bond slave, no one will stop them. Unless—”
Nisha dug her fingernails into her palms, grabbing at the words. “Unless what?”
Matron leaned back and steepled her fingers. “I’ve been researching the old House rules, and I found one, written long ago, that states a novice with no formal training can get an endorsement from a House Mistress. It was meant to help us place older girls who were sent to us untrained.” Again the tiny hint of bitterness tightened Matron’s mouth. “The Council decided years ago that we could no longer afford to take the older children, but this rule was never revoked.”
“But how does that help me?” Nisha asked, wiping her sweaty palms on the fabric of her borrowed overrobe.
“A House Mistress’s word counts for much in our world, Nisha. It’s unusual that assistants go to the Redeeming at all—if one decides to leave the City, she usually wants to go home. Your eventual price is an unknown, and Akash is taking advantage of that. If the Council thinks they can profit by letting you go to the Redeeming, they may not sell you now.”
If I can get to the Redeeming, Devan will speak for me, Nisha thought. The idea didn’t comfort her as much as she hoped. She didn’t know what Devan intended. She might have to find another way.
“How long do I have?” she asked out loud.
“There’s a Council meeting tomorrow afternoon. If you can find someone to endorse you by then, I can offer that as a solution. But you need to hurry.”
City of a Thousand Dolls Page 4
