City of a Thousand Dolls

by Miriam Forster

  “You tell me, Nisha,” he said. Tac growled what sounded like a warning, but Devan ignored him. “What am I supposed to do with a girl who limps like a beggar’s brat?”

  It happened so fast that Nisha barely saw it. One moment she was holding Tac’s hand; the next, Tac had sprung up and backed Devan against a tree. The gleaming point of a dagger rested on the courier’s throat.

  The young nobleman’s eyes were wide with fear. “Call him off, Nisha,” he said, his voice cracking. “Please, I’m begging you.”

  Nisha wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry. But she had no more tears, and it wasn’t that funny. “Let him go, Tac,” she said through dry lips.

  Tac lowered the dagger. The look he gave Nisha was one of mixed frustration and grief, as if he had taken her heartbreak and made it his own. Then he spun and punched Devan full in the face.

  The nobleman crumpled against the tree. A thin dribble of blood marked the corner of his mouth.

  No one moved. From somewhere in the forest, a monkey hooted.

  Finally Devan pushed himself up. He carefully brushed the dirt and twigs from his tunic, pulled out a handkerchief, and wiped his cut lip.

  “I would have given you the world,” he said without looking up. “I would have braved my family’s judgment, all for you. A wife untrained in court ways, they would have accepted given time. But this … I’m sorry, Nisha.”

  Then he turned and walked to his horse. Nisha watched him as he led the mount through the open gate of the City, until the flash of his tunic was lost beyond the stone walls. He never looked back.

  Tac knelt in front of Nisha. His brown irises held gold flecks in the light, and he raised his eyebrows, asking if she was all right.

  “You shouldn’t have done that,” Nisha said. “But I’m not sorry you did.” She took a ragged breath. “Will you take me to Sashi now? Please?”

  The young man shrugged his broad shoulders. Then he picked up Nisha as if she were an injured fawn and carried her inside the estate walls.

  29

  SASHI WAS STANDING by the window, her dark hair falling over her face, when Nisha pushed open the door from Tac’s arms.

  At the sound of footsteps, Sashi turned her face toward them. “Who is it?” she asked dully.

  Nisha gestured for Tac to set her down. Her left foot felt sore and bruised, but it held her weight. She clung to Tac’s arm to avoid falling over. “Sashi, it’s me.”

  Sashi’s face hardened. “I don’t want to talk to you.” She threw the words at Nisha like they were daggers.

  “I’m so sorry, Sashi.” Nisha fumbled for words. “I shouldn’t have said anything to Matron, but I did because I trusted her … I told her not to do anything, to wait until I knew more. I never, ever thought they’d take it this far so quickly.”

  Sashi shrugged and turned to the window. “It doesn’t matter what you thought,” she said. “And you should know better than to believe anything Matron says. She doesn’t care who has to suffer as long as the City of a Thousand Dolls is safe.”

  Her voice grew hot enough to sear Nisha like a brand. “How could you possibly think I killed anyone, Nisha? All these years we’ve known each other, how could you even think it for one second?”

  “I didn’t want to! But when you wouldn’t tell me about the blood, I didn’t know what to think.”

  Sashi pressed her lips together until they turned white. “You should have trusted me,” she said. “A friend was hurt, and I … helped her and promised not to tell anyone. And I never will. Not that it matters now.”

  “A friend?” Nisha stared at Sashi, her brain racing. A friend. Someone who knew the House of Jade. Someone who was bleeding … bleeding because of Nisha. “Sashi, was that Zann’s blood on your asar?”

  The blind girl turned away, but not before Nisha saw the truth in her face.

  “It was, wasn’t it?” Nisha asked. “Zann is a servant in Jade—of course she would go there when she was hurt. You helped her, and that’s how you got blood on your asar. She came to you after we ran into each other in the maze.”

  “That’s not how she told it,” Sashi said with flat precision. “She said you attacked her.”

  Nisha’s jaw dropped. Tac stiffened beside her.

  “I didn’t attack Zann,” Nisha said. “I was running, and I didn’t see her.” Something in Sashi’s voice gave her pause. “What else did she tell you? Why are you protecting her?”

  “Because she needed it!” Sashi snapped. “You didn’t see her, Nisha. She was so frightened. She thought that perhaps you had been sent to hurt her.”

  “I would never hurt Zann. You know that, Sashi.”

  Sorrow twisted the blind girl’s mouth. “I wanted to believe that. But she made me promise, promise that I wouldn’t tell anyone I’d helped her. She was afraid whoever was coming after her would come for me, too.”

  “Sashi,” Nisha said carefully, “Zann might have done something terrible. I need to know if she told you anything else.”

  Her friend shook her dark head. “No. I promised, Nisha. If you ever believed me, believe me now. I don’t think Zann hurt anyone. She was too frightened.”

  Nisha opened her mouth, then shut it again. Sashi never told secrets, no matter how hard she was pushed. Nisha had made the mistake of not trusting Sashi once, and she wasn’t going to make it again. “I’m going to get you out of here, Sashi, I promise.”

  Anger flashed across Sashi’s face. “You think you can just fix this, don’t you?” Her voice rose. “I have no future anymore, Nisha! They’ll never set me up in a healer’s practice now. I’m going to have to beg in the streets because you didn’t think of anyone but yourself!”

  “Sashi, please,” Nisha said. Her eyes were dry and hot. “This was all a big misunderstanding. I know I made a terrible mistake, but I will fix it. I’ll get you out of this, I swear. You’re my friend.”

  “Friend!” Sashi’s laugh was cynical and sick-sounding. “Since when do you know how to be anyone’s friend? You think you’re the only girl in this City who feels alone.” She took a deep breath, her face cold and set. “Leave. I never want to see you again.” She turned away from Nisha, a gesture as final as a door slamming.

  “I will get you out of here,” Nisha whispered fiercely to her friend’s unresponsive back. “I will.”

  She looked up at Tac and voicelessly asked him to help her out of the room. When the door had shut behind them, he lifted her back into his arms. She didn’t say where she wanted to go next, just huddled in his arms. He carried her into the hedge maze, making his way to the center fountain.

  The fountain was as loud and dancing as it had been the day that Jina died. Tac set Nisha down lightly on its wide stone lip, steadying her with a gentle hand. She gazed down at the crystal clear water, at the blue of the lapis stones that inlaid the basin.

  She felt like she was drowning, like the cold water was filling her lungs. What she wanted right now—more than anything—wasn’t Devan or a family, it was the cats. She hadn’t seen a single one since her return, not even from a distance, had heard no comforting voices in her head. She had broken her promise.

  Now she was alone.

  A hand touched Nisha’s shoulder, startling her so much that she almost fell into the water. Tac sat down next to her. He squeezed Nisha’s shoulder, as if to say, You have me.

  His kindness undid her, unraveled her as if she were a torn weaving. She was suddenly weeping, deep, choking sobs that seared her throat. Tac pulled her close until her head rested on his shoulder.

  When her sobs subsided, Nisha pulled away. Her chest ached and her eyes were blurry, but she was no longer drowning. She tried to meet Tac’s gaze and found herself blushing.

  “Thank you,” she said, looking away. “You don’t have to be so kind.” Something loosened within her. “I’m still going to beat you the next time we fight.”

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tac smile.

  The sheltering walls of the la
byrinth surrounded Nisha. It seemed right to be here, where Jina had died, where Nisha had first realized that death and pain were following her. Here, in the heart of the City, nothing had changed. And yet … everything had changed.

  Nisha had changed.

  It was time to stop running, stop handing the problem off to someone else. This time Nisha would stay and fight. This time she would figure it out.

  Somehow.

  She looked down at the fountain pool and touched her fingers to the surface. The water flowed like silk over her skin and rippled into a thousand splintered pieces. Then there was a flash of black. As the water calmed, it reflected a girl in a black-hooded robe standing on the opposite side of the fountain.

  Nisha looked up to see who it was. The dark-headed girl’s head was bent. Nisha could see bits of a yellow Music asar under the dark overrobe.

  “Hello?” Nisha said softly.

  The girl’s head jerked up, eyes wide. Zann’s face was painted with clumsily applied performance makeup, dark kohl paint ringing her eyes.

  Nisha’s mouth fell open. “Zann?”

  The two girls stared at each other for a moment. Then, clutching her overrobe around her, Zann bolted toward the hedges. The yellow of her asar flashed like a trapped bird as she ran.

  “Wait!” Nisha called. Forgetting her foot, she lunged forward. Only Tac’s strong arms prevented her from hitting the ground.

  Nisha knew, with a sudden, sick certainty, that it was her Music asar Zann was wearing. And if Zann had broken into her room, it could mean that she was the one who’d left the message.

  Half wild, Nisha struggled against Tac’s grip. “We have to go after her. We have to!”

  Nisha! A spotted blur streaked across the grass, and Esmer skidded to a stop at Tac’s feet.

  Nisha went limp with relief. Esmer, she sent. I’m so glad to see you.

  The older cat’s eyes slid away from hers. We saw her. Zann is headed for the House of Music.

  Stung by the cat’s abruptness, Nisha allowed Tac to lift her.

  Esmer trotted ahead of them. We won’t lose her. That Music asar has your scent all over it.

  I’m not worried, Nisha sent. Not about that.

  There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

  I’m sorry, Nisha sent. I’m so sorry I broke my promise.

  Esmer gave a heavy sigh. I know, Nisha. It was foolish of Jerrit to ask it of you.

  At the mention of Jerrit, Nisha sat up straighter. How is he? Is he healing all right?

  Jerrit is much better. He had to go away for now, but he said to tell you he still remembers his promise. The gray cat’s mind-voice sounded grimly amused.

  Nisha let out a breath. Jerrit still cared about her, wasn’t angry with her. For now, that was enough.

  She leaned her head on Tac’s chest. I’m surprised you and Jerrit still trust me.

  I would trust you all the way to the Mountains of the Dead, Esmer sent flatly. But among our kind, the oath of the Long-Tailed Cat is taken very seriously. If a tribe is found to be harboring an oath-breaker, it’s scattered, their young taken to be raised by other clans.

  The spotted cat paused. Jerrit is young and rash. He didn’t think about what would happen if you broke the oath. And believe me, he’s as sorry about that as you are.

  Esmer gestured with her tail at the copper-edged doorway in front of them. We’re here.

  They followed Esmer through the front door of the House of Music and were greeted by Vinian. The Music Mistress was holding a handkerchief to a little girl’s bleeding nose, and she looked torn between anger and tears.

  “Oh, Nisha,” she said when she spotted them. “What is going on? Is that your asar Zann is wearing? And what happened to you?”

  Nisha ignored the questions. “Vinian, where did Zann go?”

  “She ran in and went for Bindi’s sitt-harp.” Vinian gestured at the novice, whose nose was still gushing. “Bindi tried to stop her, and Zann elbowed her in the face. Thank goodness the older girls are already at the pavilion, or who knows what would have happened.”

  “It’s all right, Vinian,” Nisha said. “I’ll talk to her.”

  Do you have a plan? Esmer sent.

  No, Nisha sent back. But I’ll improvise.

  Nisha and Tac followed Esmer across the recital hall. Nisha wondered for a moment at his strength after he carried her up the long flight of stairs to the roof without tiring. But his arms were full, and it was Nisha who pushed open the trapdoor that led to the roof.

  The door fell open with a loud rattle, and Nisha poked her head out of the opening.

  Zann was sitting in the corner of the flat roof. She had shed her overrobe somewhere along the way to reveal the saffron asar wrapped perfectly around her, fitting her like a second skin. Her performance makeup was smeared and stained her face like a mask. The skin around her wrist cuffs was red and inflamed, as if she’d been clawing at them. She bent over the sitt-harp, never looking up.

  Nisha recognized the song Zann was trying to play. It was the “Song of the Empress Veil,” an intricate epic known for its sorrowful tones and difficult fingering. Mastering it had been Zann’s greatest triumph. But now her folded paper harp pick stumbled across the strings, and what should have been a golden trickle of notes came out jerky and sharp.

  Even with rough playing, the song still held a haunting echo of loss. It made Nisha think of Jerrit, and a stab of longing went through her. She pushed aside both the hurt and the longing for her friends. There were other things to worry about now.

  “Zann,” she said, nodding for Tac to carry her onto the roof. “Zann, I need to talk to you.”

  “Go away,” Zann said, speaking to her hands, pausing the song. Her fingers clutched the folded triangle of paper. “I’m trying to concentrate.” Another wrong note like the screech of a crow, and Zann cursed under her breath.

  “Zann,” Nisha said, trying to sound calm and unthreatening. “I need to ask you about the asar you’re wearing.”

  “No.” Zann’s voice was a growl of frustration as she tried to position her fingers on the sitt-harp. “I don’t have time to talk to you. I have to get this right. Why isn’t it working?”

  Nisha tried a different approach. “Why do you need to get it right, Zann? Why is this so important?”

  Zann gave a humorless laugh. “You have no idea. You don’t know what I had to do to get this asar, so I could get to a harp and have one more chance to play this song.”

  Nisha and Tac exchanged a glance, and Tac stepped closer.

  “What did you do, Zann?” Nisha asked, digging her fingers into Tac’s arm. “How did you get the asar?”

  “Someone gave it to me.” Zann unfolded the harp pick, smoothed out the scalloped edges, then refolded it and tried to play the song again. “That was the deal. If I helped them, I would get a Music asar.”

  Nisha’s stomach lurched. “Who is ‘them’? What did you do?”

  Zann, bent over the sitt-harp, didn’t answer.

  “Zann!”

  “What?” Zann looked up. The smeared makeup and her red eyes made her look like an evil spirit in a story. “Why won’t you leave me alone? You took my music away once—isn’t that enough?”

  Familiar guilt tugged at Nisha’s insides, but this time she ignored it. Zann had made her own decisions, and Nisha had lost too much today to carry Zann’s losses as well. Instead of shrinking back, Nisha made her voice intentionally harsh.

  “If you want me to go away, Zann, tell me what I want to know. What did you do to earn that asar?”

  Zann opened her mouth as if to refuse, then softened. “I had to do it,” she said, so quietly that Nisha could barely hear her. “You don’t understand what it’s like, to walk past this House, to hear the dancing and the singing and the sound of bells and drums, knowing you’ll never be allowed back in. I would have given anything for the chance to play one more song. So when they came and asked me for a favor, told me they’d get me an asar so I cou
ld sneak in and play music, I couldn’t say no.”

  “Zann, what did you do?”

  A tear tracked down Zann’s painted face. “I stole the gunia seeds from the House of Jade,” she said. “I offered to help the healers making face paint that day. When no one was looking, I sneaked a few of the gunia seeds into my pocket. I swear I didn’t know what they were going to be used for.”

  She breathed. “After Jina died, I wanted to tell someone. I tried to tell Sashi when she helped me clean up my bloody nose, but … I couldn’t. All I told her was that I’d done something bad. Sashi promised to help me, but she was arrested. I couldn’t tell anyone else. They would lock me up, and all hope of playing music again would be gone.”

  Tac had been inching closer, carrying Nisha as she talked, and now they were within touching distance of Zann.

  “Zann,” Nisha said as gently as she could. “Who asked you to get the seeds? Who poisoned Jina?”

  Zann’s fingers closed around the paper harp pick, crumpling it. “You’ll never believe me. No one will. It’s just my word against theirs.”

  “I’ll believe you, Zann.” Nisha reached out one hand. “I promise. Just tell me.”

  “No!” Panic had replaced the sorrow on Zann’s face, and she scrambled to her feet. “Stay away!” Zann lifted the sitt-harp over her head. “I paid too much for this. I won’t let you take it away from me.” More tears leaked from her eyes, and the crumpled harp pick fell from her hand. “Please go away. Please.”

  She took a quick step, away from Nisha, and her foot turned on a loose piece of brick. She staggered and fell backward, the sitt-harp flying from her hands. Slowly, inevitably, the instrument bounced against the rim of the roof and fell out of sight.

  Zann gave a single shriek that sliced through Nisha like a sword.

  “No!” she cried. Then she ran toward the edge of the roof.

  “Zann!” Nisha flung herself out of Tac’s arms. Her fingers touched Zann’s sweaty hand, her wrist—

  Strong hands caught her just before she hit the rough brick of the roof, and her outstretched hands grasped only emptiness.