by Carrie Patel
For starters, the Qadi, though powerful, could actually be voted out, was never known to have executed any of her rivals, and seemed to be genuinely admired by most of the people in Madina.
In the five and a half months since her hiring, Jane had not spoken with the Qadi again, but it still felt reassuring to have a patron in her position. And yet, remembering her own disastrous exile from Recoletta, she was careful not to place too much faith in the relationship.
For now, it was enough to enjoy the views of skylights and plazas and the simple luxury of a steady salary.
The job itself was less glamorous than the Qadi’s invitation had suggested, but that was fine by Jane. Most days found her digging through archives and pulling files for more senior jurists, or sorting and storing records of more recent cases. On occasion – once she’d been in the Qadi’s employ for over a month – she would be called upon to arbitrate a matter involving another Recolettan, sifting first through pages of allegations and then hearing long-winded speeches of the same.
She was a little baffled still to see that so much trust had been placed in her over the encounter with the whitenail and the merchant months ago, especially when the particulars of her new cases often seemed so vague. She told herself she was making the best decisions she could, but in practice, it often felt like she simply had to choose one name over another.
It made her grateful for the veil.
After she’d seen the Qadi wear one, she began to notice it elsewhere. At first, she couldn’t figure it out – was it fashion, tradition, or a custom born of practicality? She saw it on men and women, and though the wearers most often dressed in the finer silks and woven wools that signified wealth, she noted this as a trend rather than a rule.
And then, five weeks into her tenure at the Majlis, when she was first called to sit in on a dispute, she was presented with a veil, and she understood.
The veil she wore was a shade of dark green that matched her robes. While it was sheerer than the one the Qadi had worn, and free of any ornamental embroidery, Jane was grateful for it as soon as she sat down to arbitrate and saw the angry gazes of the aggrieved and the accused turn on her.
That first time, she’d listened to the facts alongside two other jurists, men of experience who didn’t pluck or scratch behind their veils the way Jane had been tempted to do. After they had heard the arguments from both sides – a Recolettan who claimed he’d been cheated out of a tidy investment and a Madinan who contended that the fool’s expectations had been unreasonable – Jane and her senior counterparts had retired to confer.
Jane hadn’t known what to think, except that the two adversaries in the hearing chamber should have kept a written record of their agreement to prevent controversies like this. But the two jurists with Jane had reached the conclusion that the Recolettan had indeed embarked on a risky venture and now sought recompense where none was due.
“But these people, the ones who keep their nails so long, they’re used to getting their way. Where they come from,” one of the jurists had said, turning to Jane.
“We’ve tried to explain this, but they feel that we are being unfair. Favoring our own,” said the other.
The first man had nodded to Jane. “But he hears this from you, and perhaps he’ll understand. That our ways are not his, but they are fair. Especially when one of his own can rise to prominence, no?”
Jane had doubted that a whitenail would consider her “one of his own,” but she’d heard the expectation clearly enough. And the implicit threat to her newfound position.
She’d felt the seconds tick by as she considered the directive. It had felt as though she’d swallowed something rancid, and her skin had suddenly chafed all over. Every instinct told her this was wrong, yet those same instincts told her that a refusal on her part was pointless. Their two votes would outweigh hers, and if she didn’t serve her new masters, they’d find someone who would.
Anyway, hadn’t she just been thinking that even she had no real way to tell the victim from the vulture?
It had always been a coin flip. And if the whitenail was too rash to learn the rules of his new city, it was no problem of hers.
Besides, her most providential job paid for her apartment, a quiet, safe place where Fredrick was holed up right now. If she didn’t look after him, who would?
So she’d nodded at her superiors and said, “Yes, I understand.” And when they’d returned to the hearing chamber, she’d cast her vote in favor of the Madinan, as had the first of the two jurists. The other had voted in favor of the Recolettan. For appearances’ sake.
After that, she found herself summoned to adjudicate a few times a week. Not every hearing was so choreographed. But it was enough to remind her of the purpose and price of her position.
At least she had the veil.
It was privacy. It was authority. Even though the movements of her mouth and the direction of her eyes were still visible beneath the gauzy fabric, she could be anyone she needed to be behind it. It separated her from the individuals over whom she presided.
It was, she realized, a flimsy protection. But she took comfort in the pseudo-anonymity and in the supposition that no one, neither whitenail nor Madinan nor Sato, would be able to find her.
Not until the evening, almost six months into this new life, when she returned home and found someone waiting for her.
Jane turned the key in the lock and opened her door. She was surprised, not to see Freddie, but to hear him in conversation with someone.
“...no idea how good it is to see a familiar face,” he was saying, tension edging his voice.
“I’m just grateful for a proper cup of tea.” The second voice sounded familiar, but Jane couldn’t place it until she pushed her way in the door and saw the regal woman seated at her shabby kitchen table, her hands folded neatly and patiently over the flaking varnish and bare pine. It was actually an old writing desk that she and Fredrick had picked up for the price of a week’s bread and milk, and it looked too small even in their cramped apartment. Jane and Fredrick were forever alternating between sitting across from one another on the long ends, their knees knocking together and their dishes spread between them in a single crooked line, and sitting at the short ends, wedging their thighs around and between the table legs.
Yet Lady Lachesse had assumed her position at one of the long ends, her teacup and her clasped hands perched on the ruined surface as if it were made for her. Jane had previously met her through Fredrick at a gala in Recoletta, and the woman had looked no less commanding and composed there than she did here, in their understocked kitchen.
Something about the older woman had both fascinated and terrified Jane when they’d first met. Seeing her again, it wasn’t hard to recall her gracefully predatory aspect.
Lady Lachesse turned her face up to nod at Jane as the younger woman entered, her hair swept up and silhouetted by the lamplight from the kitchen. Lady Lachesse still dressed in the fashion of Recoletta as if in defiance of local custom, the wide skirts of her taffeta dress trimmed with lace.
“Welcome home, Miss Lin,” said Lady Lachesse. “Please. Do make yourself comfortable.” She gestured graciously at the chair across from her.
It was too early to start a row. Jane bit back her indignation and concentrated on trying to make herself comfortable seated across from the venerable Lady Lachesse. The elderly dame’s generous thighs had taken up most of the room under the table, and so Jane found herself sitting at an odd angle, one knee cocked under the table, and just close enough to reach the teacup that Fredrick placed in front of her.
Jane cleared her throat. “What a pleasant surprise to see a familiar face.”
Lady Lachesse nodded, politely acknowledging this sentiment without actually returning it.
Fredrick shortly returned with the kettle, holding it high to pour a thin, corkscrewing stream of black tea into Lady Lachesse’s cup. He crossed to Jane’s side of the table, filling her cup with a utilitarian slosh.
“Happy we can oblige,” Jane said, watching her over the rim of her cup.
“There comes a time,” Lady Lachesse said, “when one takes great comfort in little familiarities. Perhaps you know what I mean.”
Jane didn’t, not yet, but “Yes ma’am” was the correct answer, so she gave it.
A Cheshire cat smile curled Lady Lachesse’s lips as she contemplated Jane, running a finger around the rim of her saucer.
“It’s hard to say whether our circumstances would have changed more in Recoletta than they have here,” she said. Her eyes took in Jane’s robes, simple but well tailored, and the rough texture of the rickety table. “Although I suppose these ghastly pajamas don’t really leave much work for a laundress of your skill, do they?”
Jane felt a barb in the woman’s words, but she knew better than to try to dig it out. And anyway, she had grown calluses after her years of work for whitenails like Lady Lachesse back in Recoletta.
Lady Lachesse smiled and, as if to emphasize her point, draped one arm across the table, tapping a four-inch fingernail on the shabby wood. She wore a small fortune in jewelry, another act of defiance, no doubt. Jane had seen other whitenails trade half as many trinkets for currency and the bread and comfort it promised.
And yet Lady Lachesse had invited herself to preside over Jane and Fredrick’s tiny apartment as if any of her depreciating status still mattered. It was an elaborate and prideful bluff of a woman still clinging to the trappings of the city that had exiled her.
That, or Lady Lachesse had planned and prepared much better than anyone else. The older woman smiled, and suddenly, Jane wasn’t so sure.
Lady Lachesse followed Jane’s searching gaze. “I’ve managed to maintain a modicum of my status and a few of my favorite luxuries. But I hear you’ve done quite well for yourself.”
Jane let her eyes linger on the shabby, mismatched furniture just long enough to make a point. “I’ve survived,” she said.
“You’ve adapted, clever girl.”
Jane took a sip of her tea. She suspected that this was merely the prelude to a larger point. And a request. Or, more likely, a demand.
Lady Lachesse continued. “Most of your former countrymen have not managed so well. As you’ve no doubt noticed behind that green veil of yours.” She said it as though wearing it were somehow an act of cowardice.
Jane bristled despite herself. “You’ll forgive my forwardness, but I’m certain you can appreciate the protection that certain resources provide. I’ve suddenly realized how nice it is to have them.”
The elderly whitenail tsked. “There’s no need for this petulance. Not when you and I are equals in this grand new city.”
Heat flooded her face, but Jane stood fast against the rampant tide. “Is that why you’ve come? For the company of an equal?”
Lady Lachesse was silent for several seconds. Not angry, but thoughtful. “I came because you’re too smart to squander your future for your pride. And because I also want to survive.”
Fredrick, who had bustled about the tiny kitchen for about as long as he reasonably could, finally brought his own cup to the table, but there was barely room enough for Jane, let alone a third. He dragged his chair to the short end between the two women and sat beside the table rather than at it. He perched his cup and saucer where he found space.
“Recoletta is experiencing growing pains,” Lady Lachesse continued. “It’s not the city you or I knew, and it’s not the city Sato expected, either. And we can’t roll back the clock any more than he can prune and shape its growth. Do you understand?”
“Better than most,” Jane said.
“You also understand,” Lady Lachesse said slowly, “what vulnerability is like. That sinking feeling of finding yourself surrounded by more powerful forces, knowing that your advantages are few and your friends fewer still.”
Jane felt the sting of the threat like a lash across her palms. She set her jaw against it. “And now, so do you.”
Freddie’s wobbly chair let out a timid squeak.
Lady Lachesse’s prim smile curdled. “Ever the keen observer, Miss Lin. You may, however, find it advantageous to have a few allies in your corner.”
“It seems I already do.”
“You have employers, and by now, you should know the difference.”
Jane swallowed a mouthful of tea and set her cup down carefully. Freddie scuttled off to get the pot, no doubt eager for an excuse to retreat. “If you’re asking me to start deciding in favor of more whitenails...”
“Don’t be crass. Any foolish enough to get themselves into trouble with the local authorities deserve the ordeal. I’m only suggesting that you use your considerable influence to help the rest of us.”
Jane didn’t want to sound eager, but she was curious. “I take it you have something specific in mind.”
Freddie returned with the teapot, refilling the cups as quietly as possible. Even his eyes were glued to Lady Lachesse.
The older woman took her time, enjoying a long, slow sip of her tea. “Though they haven’t done so openly, your new patrons are discussing Recoletta. Soon, they’ll start sending messages. Receiving intelligence. They want to know more about what’s going on in Recoletta even if they aren’t yet willing to officially acknowledge Sato’s government.”
Jane balked, almost spilling her tea. “And you expect me to get my hands on this information?”
“You’re good at that sort of thing, aren’t you?” Lady Lachesse smiled sweetly.
“What use could it possibly be to you?”
“I want to know, Jane. There’s a considerable advantage in foresight. One that you could, perhaps, use as well. You’re comfortable now, but let’s not forget how quickly one’s position can crumble.” She raised her teacup to her lips. “Speaking from experience.”
Jane wrapped her fingertips carefully around the warm cup. “Perhaps you’re right.” She took a drink as well. “But why would I share anything with you?”
“As I’ve said, fortunes can change rather suddenly. It’s wise to make friends where one can.”
Jane set her cup back in her saucer. She could feel herself being forced into agreement. Yet she saw an opportunity to grab something for herself. “If I do this,” she said, “I’ll want something from you, too.”
“An exchange? Do tell.”
Jane suddenly realized she didn’t have anything specific in mind. What could the whitenail offer? She had connections, it seemed, but Jane wasn’t sure who they were or what use they would be. There was money, but the idea of taking wages from this woman nauseated her. She’d been a fixture of Recoletta’s elite class for decades, but none of that could help either of them now.
And then she remembered. She thought back to her first meeting with Lady Lachesse, recalling the woman’s uncanny mind for detail, her appetite for scandal. If anyone knew the details of an incident some twenty-five years old, it would be her.
“I want to know about my parents.”
The surprise on Lady Lachesse’s face gratified Jane. “I beg your pardon?”
Jane licked her lips. This was a gamble. It could be beyond even the whitenail’s considerable knowledge. But she suspected not. “I want to know why they were killed.” She kept her voice steady. She had to sound confident and resolute. Roman had told her that Councilor Ruthers was responsible, but he’d never explained why.
The thin smile returned. “How would you ever know I’m telling the truth?”
Jane mirrored the expression. “What reason would you have to lie?”
Lady Lachesse laughed, a surprisingly high and merry sound. “If you have to ask, you’re in more trouble than I thought.”
Jane felt her fingers tighten around her cup, realizing how relieved she’d been to actually leave behind whitenail pr
esumption and whitenail privilege. She also realized that, on some level, Lady Lachesse was right.
Still, backing down would show just the kind of weakness that would whet the old woman’s appetite. “I know part of the story already,” she said, which was technically, if barely, true. “But if this is beyond you, then you can forget about it.”
The older woman’s laugh took on a dangerous edge. “I can manage, Miss Lin. I just wanted to make sure we had an understanding.”
Jane felt a sharp pain under the table. She looked up at Lady Lachesse, but Fredrick’s scowling face loomed in the corner of her vision.
“We do,” Jane said.
The corners of the whitenail’s mouth twitched upward. “I am so glad.”
Lady Lachesse nodded on her way out the door, as if none of this were the least bit surprising. “I’ll be sure to call on you, Miss Lin.”
As the door snicked shut behind the older woman, Fredrick’s raspy whisper floated over her shoulder. “Are you mad?” he asked. “Making a deal with her?”
Jane rounded on Freddie. “What choice did I really have? She’d found me.”
He gave a hollow laugh and shook his head, watching her with mirthless green eyes. “Lady Lachesse has long claws, even here. You just showed her where to sink them.”
“Then I’ve got you to thank for making the introduction.” Jane carried her cup and saucer to the sink. She splashed water over it and began scrubbing at the ring stained in the ceramic.
“Don’t blame me for this,” Fredrick said, clearing the remaining cups. “You saw where things were headed and kept pushing. I watched you just now.”
“And you kept us supplied with tea, let’s not forget that.” Jane scrubbed harder, her knuckles white beneath the suds. The ring wouldn’t come out.
He sighed. “I didn’t ask for any of this.”
His words burned. Had he already forgotten that she’d sacrificed precious hours to come to his rescue before fleeing? Or did he think he could have stayed in Recoletta? “You regret leaving with me?” Her mouth felt dry. Whether from anger or fear, she didn’t yet know.