City of a Thousand Dolls

by Miriam Forster

  “It’s the strain of the Redeeming coming so soon,” she said. “I’ve been getting so pale and puffy lately.”

  “No—” Nisha started, but Tanaya cut her off with an imperious wave of her fan.

  “I appreciate your concern, Nisha, but please stop.” Her voice was heavy with an arrogance that Nisha had never heard before. At least, not directed at her.

  Nisha pushed down a stab of hurt. Tanaya was under a tremendous strain. She probably didn’t realize how she sounded.

  “What are you doing here, Tanaya? You have music lessons in the morning.”

  “It’s not morning,” Tanaya said, a smile lifting her face. “It’s well after lunch. I asked Matron to let you sleep. It was the least I could do after last night.” She shuddered. “That snake gave me nightmares. How is your cat?”

  Nisha smiled. The relief of Jerrit’s recovery was like a warm blanket she hugged to herself. “He’ll be all right. Where did that horrible thing come from?”

  Tanaya started playing with her fan, opening and closing it aimlessly. “I have no idea. I opened my chest to change my asar, and there it was, staring at me.”

  “It’s a good thing it hadn’t slithered farther down into the chest,” Nisha said. “If you had reached in without seeing it—”

  Tanaya wrinkled her nose. “Let’s not think of that.”

  But Nisha could not stop thinking of it. She knew why the snake hadn’t been placed in the bottom of the chest. It had been a warning, not a true attempt on Tanaya’s life. Nisha and the killer were playing a game now, one that she wasn’t at all sure she could win. She knew the only way she could keep the killer from striking again was to go to the quarry. Tonight. Before anyone else got hurt.

  Nisha went to Tanaya and hugged her hard, feeling the knifelike shoulder blades under her black overrobe.

  “It’s over now,” she said.

  “Really?” Tanaya asked, with unexpected vulnerability.

  “Really,” Nisha said, looking her friend in the eye. Tanaya had protected her when Nisha was a child. Now Nisha was going to protect her. “Trust me.”

  Tanaya smiled.

  The door to the library flew open with a bang. Matron looked both calm and deeply displeased as she strode into the room, filling it with her presence.

  “Tanaya, where have you been? House Mistress Indrani is looking for you. You are taking dinner with High Prince Sudev’s representative today—have you forgotten?”

  Tanaya’s smile drained away, and the fan in her hand snapped open and shut in a dance of irritation. “I am speaking to Nisha,” she said. “And I intend to go on speaking with her. I will have plenty of time to prepare for dinner.”

  “Indrani is looking for you,” Matron repeated. “To choose the asar you will wear to dinner. No more of these somber colors. And for the love of heaven, girl, eat something this time. You’re growing too thin as it is, and we don’t want the prince to think you’re getting sick.”

  Tanaya drew herself up until she was as narrow and tight as a well rope. “I choose my wardrobe,” she said. “Not you, and not Indrani. I will wear exactly what I choose to wear. I will eat exactly what I choose to eat. Nothing more.”

  “Girl, you are forgetting yourself.” Matron’s quiet tone sent shivers down Nisha’s spine.

  “But Matron, I am never allowed to forget.” Tanaya made a gesture with her fan that Nisha couldn’t identify. “I would remind you that you need me more than I need you. I owe you nothing. Do you hear? Nothing!”

  She touched her ruby-and-gold necklace with trembling fingers. It seemed to calm her, and the tense, angry lines on her face smoothed themselves out. “I will go find Indrani, as you request.” She swept out of the room, leaving Matron looking after her with narrowed eyes.

  Nisha looked after Tanaya, her mind slow with shock. “Why is she so angry?”

  “I don’t know,” Matron said, and her tone was so positive that Nisha knew she must be lying again. “Indrani claims that Tanaya has been irritable and erratic lately. And she appears to have stopped eating.” Matron paused. “She talks to you, Nisha. Has she told you anything?”

  “Only that she’s nervous about the Redeeming,” Nisha said. “That’s what she meant when she said you needed her more than she needed you....”

  Matron looked down awkwardly. “Yes. The reputation of the City is now tied to this union. If Tanaya becomes defiant or shows herself in any way to be unsuitable—”

  “Why would she do that?” Nisha asked. “It wouldn’t be worth it. She’d be thrown out, casteless.”

  Matron’s mouth pinched as if tasting something bitter. “Tanaya would survive well enough. The demand for beautiful and intelligent courtesans is great enough that the employers would look the other way—and Tanaya doesn’t have her caste mark yet. She could vanish easily. If you are smart enough and ruthless enough, there is always a way.”

  “Tani would never lower herself to that,” Nisha protested.

  “Tanaya won’t have to lower herself to anything,” Matron said. “She is the most important novice we have ever trained, and the first to marry into the Emperor’s family. The Council will bend over backward to protect her and keep her happy. And Tanaya is perfectly capable of ruthlessness. It was part of her training.”

  “You’re wrong,” Nisha said. “Tanaya isn’t ruthless. She’s anxious and scared.”

  Matron’s eyes rested on Nisha with something close to pity. “Sometimes, Nisha,” she said, “people are not who you expect them to be.”

  “Matron.” Kalia appeared in the doorway. Her eyes narrowed when she saw the two of them together, and Nisha had to force herself not to step behind Matron. “I need to talk to you.”

  “I’m busy, Kalia,” Matron said, clipping her words. “Can’t it wait?”

  A flush passed over Kalia’s face. “Well, if you’re too important to be bothered, perhaps I should talk to Akash instead,” she snapped. She turned to go.

  “Kalia.” The word was softly spoken, but it stopped the Mistress of Order in her tracks.

  “Remember, you report to me, not Akash,” Matron said. “And as long as I am Matron, the appointment—and dismissal—of House Mistresses is up to me. That includes you.”

  Kalia straightened her white asar and tilted her chin up. “Akash is my cousin. Surely you wouldn’t deny me permission to speak to my own family?”

  Matron gave her a level stare, meeting Kalia’s eyes until the other woman looked away.

  “Of course I will obey you, Matron,” Kalia said, her words poisonous-sweet. “For as long as you are in charge.” Kalia’s eyes flicked to Nisha, who stared at her feet.

  Matron rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Nisha, you may go.”

  “Oh, let her stay,” Kalia said. “We don’t spend nearly enough time together, do we Nisha?”

  “Nisha.” Matron’s voice held no room for argument. “You are dismissed.”

  Nisha obeyed, forcing herself not to run. She walked casually until she was out of Kalia’s eyesight, then broke into a quick trot. Time was running out, dribbling through her hands like water, and she was no closer to a solution than she had been five days ago. Sashi was furious with her, Tanaya was unraveling, and girls were still dying.

  It had to stop.

  Once in her room, Nisha pulled on her House of Combat tunic and a pair of loose trousers. The cotton fabric was a little thin for creeping through the woods, but it was the sturdiest thing she had. There was an old practice staff in the corner, not as well made as the ones in the armory, but she didn’t have anything else.

  Nisha tied the staff to her back and grabbed a clay lamp. If she hurried, she could get to the quarry well before the light failed, but she’d need the lamp to help her find her way back. Especially without a cat’s help.

  She felt a twist of guilt as she remembered her promise to Jerrit not go off alone. But if she told any of the cats where she was going, Jerrit might hear about it. That stubborn cat was perfectly capab
le of dragging himself to the quarry if he thought she was putting herself in danger. And then he would injure himself again, or get sick.

  She’d almost lost Jerrit once. She couldn’t risk losing him again.

  And she couldn’t do nothing. The killer had taken three girls, three happy, innocent girls full of dreams and plans and life. Their deaths had ripped open the fabric of the City, spreading sorrow and grief and risking all the girls’ futures. And now Tanaya was being threatened.

  Nisha had to stop it, not just for Tanaya, but for all the other novices in the City. The City had been a safe place for girls, a shelter in a world that didn’t want them. Now it was a sad, dangerous place.

  I will make it safe again, Nisha promised herself. I will.

  The always-gray sky was just starting to darken as she left the Council House. She hurried to the main gate, pushing down a niggling feeling that she’d forgotten something. Jerrit would understand. She was protecting everyone by going alone. It was better this way. Stupid, but better.

  Just outside the main wall, Nisha stopped. The trees rose in front of her, shadowy and full of danger. At the thought of walking into the forest, the old panic tightened her chest. Nisha forced herself to take one step, then another. The tightness squeezed the breath from her lungs, and her hands were cold and clammy.

  She took another step. Even if the fear killed her, she was going to that quarry.

  A flash of purple caught Nisha’s eye. Nestled under a bush by her feet was a lavender orchid, a pale slip of paper tied to its stem. Nisha scooped it up.

  Solid, steady earth

  Under your graceful slippers

  Is the love I offer

  The ink was a little smudged and the paper damp, but the elaborate D was unmistakable.

  Devan.

  Nisha couldn’t stop the smile of relief from spreading across her face. She put the orchid to her face, breathing in the heady scent. The feel of the soft petals gave her new courage. She could be brave. She could do what she had to do to protect Tanaya and the other girls.

  She could do this.

  The pale trunks of the trees, instead of threatening Nisha, beckoned her. Remembering the Kildi man she’d seen before and Devan’s remark that that more Kildi were camping nearby, she studied the line of trees carefully. But there was no sign of any other human. She was alone.

  Taking a deep breath, she moved her feet, one after the other, until she was deep in the forest.

  The broad teak leaves were edged with brown, and a few already graced the carpet of wiry grass. Nisha avoided them. Even mist-damp leaves would rustle under her feet, sending word of her presence to anyone who might be lurking in the woods. Nisha’s footsteps grew sure as she walked, and her breathing eased as she headed in the direction of the quarry.

  The quarry was a legend in the City. It was supposed to be haunted by the spirits of builders who had died digging stone for the City walls.

  The legend was nonsense, of course. No one had ever died in the quarry, and there were no deaths connected to the building of the City in any of the history scrolls she’d read. Nisha suspected the House Mistresses invented tales like that to keep curious girls out of the woods. It made a good story to tell the younger children on cold nights. Nisha almost laughed, thinking how little she’d needed stories to keep her out of the woods. She’d had her own reasons.

  Even though she didn’t believe in the ghost stories, Nisha expected to feel lost and frightened. It was her first real journey into the woods since her attempt at running away six years ago. But a strange thing happened. She slipped into the rhythm of the forest like she was born to it. Even in the dim light, the life of the woods vibrated around her: the rich scent of teak leaves and grass, the sleepy trills of the tiny parrots huddled in the branches. She hiked toward the quarry at an easy lope. Soon she was deeper into the woods then she’d ever been, and the deeper she went, the more comfortable she felt.

  Josei was right. I’m not a child anymore. The knot of terror in her chest—the one that had been there since Matron had first told her she was to be sold—loosened. If she had to, she could escape. Jerrit and Esmer would come with her, maybe more of the cats too, and she would survive.

  But she didn’t have to go, not yet. She had to make sure her friends were safe and see Devan again—to ask him to speak for her, or to say good-bye. Nisha held the orchid to her face again and smiled.

  No, she wouldn’t leave just yet.

  Still, the knowledge that she could warmed her like a tiny flame in the back of her mind. Nisha no longer felt like a parakeet in a cage, flapping her wings at the bars. Now the door was open, and possibilities stretched out before her. She could find the school that Matron had told her about. Or she could work in a village or join a Wind caste caravan. Josei thought she would make a good guard. She was young, healthy, and strong and could hold her own in a fight. She could build a place for herself somewhere.

  Even the idea of slavers and bandits didn’t frighten her anymore. As long as she wasn’t trapped, Nisha knew she wouldn’t be too frightened to fight back. Not even against the killer she was about to meet.

  Just on the edge of the quarry, she stopped to catch her breath and listen. No footsteps, no startled birds, nothing out of place. The slate-gray sky was turning the color of charred wood. Nisha’s fingers curled around Devan’s orchid.

  Something chittered behind her.

  Nisha spun, her heart jerking in her chest. A monkey with a black face moved out of the shadows and onto a low branch. It seemed neither startled nor afraid but regarded Nisha with an expression of benevolent curiosity.

  “Hello,” Nisha said, not sure what else to do.

  The monkey chittered back, inching closer along the branch. Its narrow tail twitched, and its dark eyes were fixed on the orchid in Nisha’s hand.

  “You want this?” she said, holding it out. The monkey bobbed its head and leaned closer to the flower. Thin bones moved under fluffy silver-tipped fur. Nisha held the flower closer.

  “Go on,” she said on an impulse. “You can have it.”

  A dark paw flashed out, and then both monkey and orchid were gone. Nisha watched the long-limbed form of the monkey pulling itself up into the tree until it was out of sight. Then she turned away, the cool air like a silk coverlet on her empty hands.

  The old quarry was a narrow valley of hard gray stone, cut and tumbled in massive boulders. A shallow lake glistened in the center.

  Nisha scanned the rocks, a jumble of indistinct shapes. Pale mist was beginning to pool around the stones. There wasn’t a breath or a sound.

  Pulling out her staff, she began to pick her way toward the lake. The trees around the rim of the quarry were thin and didn’t offer enough cover to hide in. She knew she would feel safer with her back to the water. She would conceal herself among the large rocks and wait for the killer.

  The rocks were slick with moisture from the mist, and Nisha had to be careful not to slide into the cracks and crevices between them. That was good. It would be hard for anyone to get all the way down to the lake without her spotting them.

  She was just about to climb over the last mound of rocks between her and the water when she spotted a flash of color off to her right. Nisha scrambled in that direction, skirting a boulder as large as herself in the process. There! A spark of red in a stew of gray and white.

  It was her scarf.

  Nisha sniffed the mist-scented air and listened, but nothing moved. There was no sign of another person. Hints of frost still stuck to the edges of the fabric. The scarf must have been here overnight. A crushed, dead butterfly also edged with frost lay on the stone next to it.

  The killer had been here, maybe even right after breaking into Nisha’s room. The scarf could be a tease, or bait.

  But Nisha was still early. She was alone. And she couldn’t bring herself to walk away and leave the only link to her parents behind.

  One end of the scarf was caught in a deep crack between two
boulders, and she had to lie on her stomach and reach her arm in up to the shoulder to pull it free. She had just worked the end loose when she saw a thin, dark shadow out of the corner of her eye.

  Nisha tried to scramble to her feet on the slick rock, her every instinct screaming danger.

  But it was too late.

  There was the harsh grate of stone on stone. Nisha caught the scent of clovermint just before the boulder crashed down on her legs.

  Searing white agony, then nothing.

  Flowers for the noble born in palaces of stone

  Jade is for the learned ones studying alone

  Bamboo merchants buy and trade ivory, gems, and wood

  A Hearth for those who work the land, to bring up what is good

  But beware the Wind caste, who claim no house or town

  Always running, always moving, till they all fall down!

  Bhinian children’s rhyme

  25

  CONSCIOUSNESS TEASED NISHA in fuzzy impressions. A hard, damp surface underneath her cheek. Chill eddies of air on her skin. The pulse of blood flowing through her veins.

  Bright sparks of pain danced behind her eyes, and she forced them open.

  Her first thought was that she was lying on something cold and uncomfortable. Her second was that she hurt. Everywhere.

  Her head throbbed with a dull ache that only now began to separate itself from the rest of her pain. She must have hit it when she fell. She could feel her fingers and move them without pain. One hand gripped a sodden wisp of fabric. Her body was sore and battered, but she could breathe without effort.

  Her legs. Something was wrong with her legs.

  Nisha took a deep breath and focused on her left leg. The leg wouldn’t move, it was true, but it felt as though it was caught between rocks, and though it ached with a bone-deep pain, it was the pain of bruises and sprains. Nothing too serious.

  She wriggled the toes of her left foot and tried to shift it, but it was caught fast. And there was a sudden ferocious pain in her right foot that discouraged any more movement.