City of a Thousand Dolls (5 page)

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.

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.

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
.