This part of the City was devoted to lotus ponds. The calm water seemed to rebuke Nisha for her worry. Tiny green-and-black frogs hopped from glossy leaf to glossy leaf, croaking to one another.
After a few minutes of walking silently, Nisha couldn’t contain her questions anymore.
“Why?” she demanded, not caring if it was rude. “Why do you care what happens to me?”
Josei stopped on the path and held up one brown hand for Nisha to see. “Because I am also an outsider,” she said. Her hand began to shimmer like a rock when seen through river water. It wavered and blurred into a paw with brown fur and dull black claws.
Nisha breath caught with awe. Carefully she reached out and touched the paw. The dark pads were dry and rough under her fingers.
Josei’s eyes shone gold for a moment, and a fierce, wild pride crossed her face. Then her eyes darkened to gold-flecked brown, and her paw became a calloused hand again.
It was a moment before Nisha’s tongue could form words. “You’re Sune?”
In those days—before the Ending, before the Barrier—magic was everywhere. It was in the land, making it fertile. It was in the water, keeping it clear and full of fish. And it was in the people. Most people had some form of magic, even if it was only an awareness of the power that flowed through the world. But only a few people were powerful enough and driven enough to actually use it. The old magicians said controlling the magic was like trying to change the course of a cascading waterfall. One slip and the magic would break loose and spray everywhere.
From the scrolls of Naveen ka’Lyer, Jade caste historian
13
“HALF SUNE,” JOSEI said, starting to walk again. “My mother belonged to the Shrilah-Sune, the fox clans. My father was a scout for the Imperial soldiers. They met in the forests of the south, on the slopes of the Mountains of the Dead. They might have stayed together, but he was killed when he stumbled on a nest of bandits.”
The path turned to a wooden bridge over the largest of the lotus ponds. Josei stopped and leaned on the railing, looking out over the flower-spotted water.
Nisha copied her, studying Josei out of the corner of her eye. Now that she was looking for it, she noticed the Combat Mistress’s’s faint musky scent that lay under her normal smells of dirt and sweat.
“Well,” she said finally. “No wonder you’re so fast.”
Josei threw her head back and laughed. “Sune are faster and stronger than humans, it is true. The magic makes our senses sharper and we heal more quickly. But I have trained hard as well. And I do know what it is like to be on the outskirts of every place you go, to have to choose your own future because no one else will choose it for you. Half Sune don’t develop the power to change to animal form until they’re fully grown. My mother was one of the wild Sune, and she didn’t know what to do with a human child. When I was old enough to care for myself, she left.”
There was no sadness in Josei’s words, just acceptance. For a moment, she looked very animal.
Nisha thought about her own parents leaving her in the City. She hadn’t been old enough to care for herself, so why had they abandoned her? And why couldn’t she remember more about them?
“I wish I were Sune,” Nisha said, looking down at the pond below. The lotuses’ sweet scent rose up to the bridge. “Then I could turn into a fox and get away from here.”
“It is a curse and a gift, just like anything,” Josei said. She paused. “How much do you know about how the Sune were made?”
“Just what everyone knows, I suppose,” Nisha said. She gestured at the unchanging gray sky. “The songs say that the Sune were formed five hundred years ago, when the Empire was cut off. The magic that made the Barrier splashed onto some of the animals.”
“Is that what they’re teaching these days?” Josei shook her head. “Interesting. You at least know how the Barrier appeared, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Nisha said, preparing to recite the old story from memory. “The magicians of the Old Empire worked a spell to see the future, and what they saw was destruction. They saw the river flood its banks, saw the earth shake and an invading army so vast that no one would be able to stand in its way. The magicians of the royal court—which included the Emperor and his sons—found a spell that would protect the Empire. But the spell was so large that it would take the life of everyone who cast it and would remove magic from the land forever. So they sacrificed themselves and died raising the Barrier. But with no magic and no leaders, the people fell into chaos until the First Lotus Emperor took power and restored order.”
Josei burst out laughing, startling Nisha.
“Nisha, that’s a wonderful tale,” she said. “But it’s not at all what happened.”
“It’s not?” Nisha frowned. She’d heard the story-singers in the House of Music sing the history of the Empire many times. She was sure she’d remembered it correctly. “What do you mean?”
Josei sighed. “Nisha, the Sune sing this tale too. According to them, the magicians of the Old Empire were careless and arrogant. They found a spell they thought would work and cast it without proper care. The Emperor wanted big magic, something that would make him memorable in history. The Emperor’s councilors protested, but he didn’t listen. The spell was cast, but it was far too big and burned out of control. When the dust settled, the Empire was cut off from the rest of the world and every magician was dead.”
“So the magicians did die, like the songs say.”
“But it wasn’t just the magicians,” Josei said. “What your songs don’t tell you is that the spell also killed every man, woman, and child with a breath of magic in them and stripped the land of its own power. The Empire went from being a country where magic was everywhere and in everything to a barren place. Fewer than one in ten people survived. And in the mountains on the edge of the Empire, where the Barrier touches the ground and the magical backlash was strongest, all those who did not die were twisted into animal forms.”
“Is that why no one goes into the mountains anymore?” Nisha asked. “They say there are monsters there.”
Josei pulled away from the railing, her footsteps creating a dull echo on the wooden planks of the bridge. “I don’t know about that.” Nisha followed her, and Josei continued, “But I do know that it took that first generation a long time to learn to change from one form to the other without getting stuck. And some of them couldn’t survive the change. But those who did became the Sune, doomed to live as both animal and human. The full Sune cannot hide their true nature, because when they are sick or injured, they revert to animal form. That’s why most Sune keep to the wild places, preferring their animal bodies to their human ones. They want nothing to do with humans, because the arrogance of humans made them what they are.”
The story Josei was telling was so far from what Nisha had been told her whole life that she found herself at a loss for words. How terrified the people must have been, after losing so much. Especially the first generation of Sune, struggling to survive in their new forms.
“Why don’t they tell us this?” she asked.
Josei shrugged. “Probably because a story of sacrifice sounds better than a tale of mutiny. You see, the Old Emperor didn’t die in the magical cataclysm. He was one of the survivors. But one of his own advisers took advantage of the people’s fury and confusion and led a rebellion. The adviser’s supporters overthrew the ruling family and established themselves as the new leaders of the Empire. The land was so damaged and wouldn’t yield crops for years, and there weren’t stores of food enough for everyone, so the new Emperor—the first Lotus Emperor—declared martial law and a two-child limit on every household.”
And that’s why the City of a Thousand Dolls exists. Nisha looked back at the lotus pond as they left the bridge for the stone path. This part of the story she knew as well as she knew her own. We’re here because no family can have more than two children, and because people want sons instead of daughters.
“But why are
you here?” Nisha blurted before she could stop herself.
Josei’s face went still, as if she’d pulled a mask down over her features.
“I owed someone a life-debt,” she said. “Working here, training these unwanted girls to be warriors, that was my payment.”
“Really?” Nisha stopped in surprise. Life-debts were the most serious contract in the Empire. When Josei didn’t stop, she ran to catch up, her mind spinning.
Life-debts were rare. You had to save someone from certain and immediate death, and the debt was only canceled when both people agreed that it had been paid. Who could have saved Josei? Nisha had just scraped up enough courage to ask her about it when they reached the House of Jade.
Matron was standing near the greenhouse, anger in every line of her stiff frame, and she wasn’t alone.
The tall, severe man standing next to her was someone Nisha had never seen before. He was about Matron’s age, muscular and flat bellied as a river crocodile, with some of the crocodile’s waiting stillness. His black hair, with a touch of gray at the temples, was slicked back, and it touched the high collar of his brown-and-silver brocade tunic.
Josei’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Remember this, Nisha. You cannot change what’s been done, no matter how hard you want to. But you can go on.”
With those cryptic words, Josei disappeared into the House of Jade.
Nisha turned to face Matron and the stranger. As she did, Nisha’s eyes met the man’s for just a moment. His gaze was flat, predatory. Adrenaline shot down her back, made her want to flee as far away as she could.
She bowed, trying not to let her anxiety show on her face.
Matron spoke in a controlled tone. “Nisha, this is Akash tar’Vey, the head of the City Council. He has … something to tell you.”
Akash tar’Vey gave her the same evaluating stare the two Council members had given her outside the Council House the day before. “We have had an offer for your bond,” he said, his voice cruelly like Devan’s. But instead of flowing warmly over her, Akash’s voice was cold and slimy, like the oil from a cart axle.
Nisha pressed her palms together and bowed again, hiding the sudden panic she felt. “Forgive my confusion, sir, but I was told that if I could get an endorsement, I might be able to bring in more money. And I have found someone willing to endorse me. The Combat Mistress has said she will do it.”
Akash pressed his lips together in an imitation of a smile. “An admirable gesture, but where there is one offer, there might be more. The buyer is willing to pay a higher price than we expected. It’s enough money to cover the cost of training a last-minute replacement for the girl, which will please our important client greatly. I can see no reason to risk that assured money by allowing you to go to the Redeeming.”
Anxiety stiffened Nisha’s spine. Who would offer so much money for her?
Matron’s hands clenched into tight fists. “Akash, I have said already that we must bring this offer to the Council to discuss the right way forward.” Less evenly, she added, “This high-handed behavior is completely unacceptable. I will make sure the Emperor hears of it.”
Akash’s voice grew colder. “Remember, Matron, there are those in the court who would like to shut us down. I have no intention of seeing that happen. This City is a merchant’s dream. Unwanted girls are worth nothing, but trained wives and mistresses, girls bred to please and obey, are far more valuable. With a few adjustments—more guards, stricter discipline—this City could be more than self-sustaining. It could be a source of riches and power like nothing you have ever imagined.”
“That is not why we are here.” Matron folded her arms, her words sharp. “You know that. That is not what the City is for.”
“It might not be why you are here,” Akash countered. “But the Council feels quite differently. They quite like the picture I’ve been painting for them. As long as we keep the City running, the Emperor doesn’t care how we do it. And I am not the doddering old man that my predecessor was. He might have been content to let you run this place according to your idealistic notion of helping girls, but I am not. These girls are a source of income, a commodity like spices or tea.”
Some of the fire died out of Matron’s face with this assertion. Nisha’s anxiety turned into pure, cold fear.
The gold of Akash’s flower tattoo showed as he straightened his tunic. “We can discuss this later,” he said. “In the meantime, Nisha’s price will go some way toward replacing the money we lost from yesterday’s unfortunate accident.”
Then he walked away, leaving Nisha staring after him. “He’s really going to sell me, Matron?”
Matron started to say something, then nodded once, a final, sad nod, like the closing of a gate.
Nisha couldn’t breathe. It was really happening. The Council could just sell her, like a piece of furniture or a herd of cattle.
Kalia’s words whispered through Nisha’s mind. If they claim that money as your bond and sell you to make it back, who is there to stop them? And she was right.
Nisha thought of Zann, trapped in the City, forbidden to play music ever again, with no hope of a different life. Nisha’s future was uncertain, it was true, but at least she had always held rights as a free citizen, and the possibility of a different future.
But now her rights were worthless, and she was the one who was trapped. If they sold her … she would be just like Zann, but worse, probably. The healers at the House of Jade were kind masters. They allowed Zann plenty of food and adequate rest. They didn’t beat her. If Nisha was bought by a cruel master, she would be considered his property. He could do anything to her, even kill her, and no one would be able to stop him.
No one would care enough to stop him.
Bright Ancestors, no.
Her fear curdled rapidly into panic. “You can’t let them do this.” She hated the begging sound of her voice, but she could not stop herself. “Please. Please don’t let them do this to me.”
The lines around Matron’s mouth deepened. “I’ve been trying to hold them off, at least until after the Redeeming. I told them I need you too much to give you up. Akash is very anxious to finalize a deal. But I won’t stop trying—”
Nisha couldn’t hear any more. Nausea and terror had her now, and without thinking, she turned and fled into the maze. Behind her she heard Matron call her name, but she couldn’t stop running.
The labyrinth closed around her, and Nisha dodged through the narrow alleys, running blindly until she hit a dead end. Leaning against the high hedge walls, she bent over, emptying her stomach into the bushes. Again and again she retched, her stomach clenching in pain.
No, no, no, no, no!
Kalia’s words from yesterday pounded in her head, given a cruel new twist.
You don’t belong here.
You’ve never belonged here.
You’ll never belong anywhere.
14
NISHA! JERRIT’S CRY brought her out of a trance. She looked around to find herself surrounded by cats. Nisha wiped her mouth and sank to the ground, pressing her back against the prickly branches. The cats nuzzled close.
“They’re going to sell me,” Nisha said, the shape of the words making her feel sick again. “They’re going to make me a bond slave.”
The group exploded in startled growls.
They can’t do that!
What are we going to do?
They promised!
Enough. Esmer’s voice was as sharp as a sword’s point. Her black-tipped tail lashed, and the other cats fell silent.
Esmer, we can’t let this happen, Jerrit sent. He held his head low, ears back, and the fur on his spine stood up like the bristles of a paintbrush. You can cast me out if you want, but I won’t sit by and let it happen, no matter what secrets we swore to keep—
Esmer hit him. The gray spotted cat struck so fast that Nisha barely saw it, burying her claws in Jerrit’s scalp. Jerrit yowled but didn’t strike back.
A low, ragged growl came fr
om Esmer, and her lips pulled back to reveal her teeth. Her paw didn’t move from Jerrit’s head. Don’t you dare lecture me about what we swore to do. Or act like you’re the only one who cares what happens to Nisha. You’re not the only one who would bear the consequences of a broken oath. The tribe stands together, Jerrit. What happens to one affects us all.
Nisha held her breath, her own fear momentarily forgotten. She’d never seen the cats argue like this.
Under Esmer’s paw, Jerrit was still making small angry noises, but now his ears seemed more flattened in submission than in fury. The growl died from Esmer’s throat, and she retracted her claws.
Her mind-voice was as sad as Nisha had ever heard it. We aren’t going to sit by, Jerrit. But we have to be careful.
Jerrit sat up, his tawny fur still on end. His tail twitched. I’ll try.
“But how can we stop it?” Nisha said. “What can we possibly do? The Council could come and get me at any time.” Akash had free run of the Council House and the estate. Nisha wasn’t safe in her room. She wasn’t safe anywhere.
Esmer padded to Jerrit’s side and licked his ear.
Can you sleep outside Nisha’s door? she asked him.
Of course. Jerrit’s ears were upright again and his fur was smoothing. He looked around at the other cats, silently watching. I’ll take a couple of the others. He looked up at her, his sleek frame stiff with emotion. We’ll watch over you, Nisha. No one will get past us.
The idea of having sentries outside her door made her feel a little safer.
But she also knew that nothing would ever make her feel completely safe again.
Nisha couldn’t sleep. Despair wrapped her like a heavy shroud. She tried to drive it away with memories of the way Devan kissed her, the way he smiled just for her. But her mind’s images of Devan kept morphing into visions of Akash’s cruel smile. Then Akash’s face twisted into Jina’s, frozen in pain, then flattened into Atiy’s wide, dead stare.
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