Go, Esmer prodded. We’ll take care of her.
Nisha slipped out the library door, Jerrit following close behind.
There was a tawny spotted tom stretched across the doorway, guarding it. Nisha couldn’t remember his name, but she smiled at him as she stepped carefully over his long body. She was rewarded with a slow blink of thanks.
Jerrit leaped over with a careless twitch of his tail, and the tom growled but didn’t move.
Are you going to the armory? Jerrit sent.
Nisha glanced down. How did you know?
You’re touching your tiger mark again, Jerrit sent. That’s how I know you’re upset. And when you’re really upset, you go to the House of Combat and ruin Josei’s practice dummies by beating them with your staff.
Not even Chandra’s warning echoing in Nisha’s ears could keep her from smiling at that. I suppose I do take my frustrations out on them, she sent. And it sounds like a wonderful idea.
Of course it is. And Josei can help you figure out what to do next.
I hope so, Nisha sent, going into her room to pull on her Combat tunic. I really hope so.
When she reached the armory, Josei was nowhere in sight. Her new assistant was sitting at a table, polishing a curved sword with a wicked edge. He looked up as she came in and Nisha reddened, remembering the wink he’d given her. But this time the young man simply gave her a nod and went back to cleaning the sword.
Feeling a little snubbed, Nisha turned to the wall of weapons. Fighting sticks, daggers, short swords, spears, and long-handled maces all hung with military precision. Low storage chests along each wall held padded leather armor, along with cleaning and mending supplies.
Nisha fingered a lati stick of polished bamboo. The wood felt cool and comforting under her hands.
Josei’s assistant rose and hung the sword on its proper hook. He looked at the lati stick Nisha was holding and grinned. With surprising grace, he pulled a shorter fighting stick of dense ebony off the wall and held it one-handed, twirling it slowly. He raised one eyebrow at Nisha, a clear challenge.
Nisha knew she should refuse. The City allowed few men within its walls, and the girls were forbidden to socialize with them.
But she was tired. Tired and angry and scared down to her bones. And today she didn’t care about the City or its rules. The idea of fighting someone who wasn’t testing her sounded even better than beating the stuffing out of a practice dummy.
So instead of shaking her head and walking away, Nisha put down her long staff and picked up a matching fighting stick. She moved to the center of the open floor, muscles ready and knees bent.
Come and get me. I’m not afraid of you.
The attendant’s grin widened, and he attacked.
He was good, Nisha thought, blocking him as he lunged at her, but it was all natural talent. He moved like someone who hadn’t been fighting long, his form sloppy but effective.
He was fast though. It was all Nisha could do to keep pace with him, and every time she thought she had him pressed against the wall, he would spin away. They fought one-handed, which meant a longer reach than Nisha’s usual two-handed style. But it also meant sometimes they got very, very close.
Once Nisha struck at him, and he deflected her stick up. Her momentum brought her close enough to see the gold flecks in his brown eyes. For a moment they froze. Then Nisha gave him a wicked grin and hooked her foot behind his, shoving against his hard chest with her free hand.
The assistant fell. But instead of sprawling on the floor, he tucked his body in, executed a perfect roll, and came up on his feet. He grinned at Nisha, who found herself laughing.
“At least you can fall properly,” she said. “More?”
The attendant tossed his stick from one hand to the other. His hair had fallen over his forehead, and his eyes were full of silent laughter. He nodded, and they started again.
Soon the fight fell into a rhythm so perfect that Nisha could almost hear the beat of drums underlying every step. Sweat dampened the back of her tunic, and her hair was coming loose from its tie and she didn’t care. For a few wonderful moments there was no past, no future, nothing but her and him and the clack and rattle of sticks.
16
SOMEONE COUGHED. NISHA froze, body half extended in a strike. The assistant straightened up and held his fighting stick straight up and down at his side. Nisha turned her head to see Josei watching them.
Heat flushed Nisha’s cheeks, followed by a wave of anger. Why shouldn’t she practice with whoever she pleased? She folded her arms, waiting for Josei to scold her.
But the House Mistress wasn’t looking at her. Her disapproving gaze was on her assistant. “I don’t believe sparring is part of your job description, Tac.”
The young man put his stick down and gave her a defiant scowl.
Josei sighed. “We’ll talk about it later. Will you go give the bows a proper waxing? The novices have been complaining of brittle strings.”
The attendant’s merry, brown-gold eyes met Nisha’s. Placing one hand on his chest, he bowed to her. It was a ritual end-of-match bow, the kind exchanged between two warriors of equal skill. Nisha returned it, the corners of her mouth twitching.
Tac bowed to Josei and left. Nisha watched him go before turning back to Josei. Josei raised an eyebrow. “Having fun?”
“Yes,” Nisha said, meeting Josei’s eyes straight on. “Are you going to punish me?”
The fox-woman snorted. “Why? I always thought you girls would be better off if we allowed you to interact with more men before sending you out into the world. The Council has always been afraid it would lead to problems, but that doesn’t mean they can tell me how to handle my own novices.” She showed her teeth in a fierce grin. “I’d like to see them try.”
Nisha felt a rush of gratitude, followed by a twinge of envy. If only she could defy the Council like that. She thought of how free she had felt, fighting with Tac. Nisha wanted more of that freedom, wanted it so badly she could taste it like a sharp, green fruit on her tongue.
“Besides,” Josei said, “if I was going to be angry at anyone, which I’m not, I’d be angry at Tac. He knows better.”
“He doesn’t say much, does he?” Nisha ventured.
Josei smiled. “No, he doesn’t talk. But he’s strong and helpful, if a little reckless.” She picked up the sword Tac had been polishing and inspected the curved edge. “You, on the other hand, fight like someone who’s trying to forget.”
The sweat on the back of Nisha’s neck was turning cold in the chilly air, and she shivered. “I’m in trouble, Josei,” she said. “If I can’t find a good reason for Matron to keep me until after the Redeeming, the Council is going to sell me. Orders of the new Council Head.”
Josei growled deep in her throat. “That man smells like tree rot,” she said. “He’s bad to his core, cares about no one but himself and his own power.”
“But what can I do?” Nisha said. “There’s nothing I’m doing for Matron that any other servant can’t do.”
Josei whirled the sword in a circle, the steel blade flashing. “I wouldn’t say that,” she said. “Did you know the Council has forbidden Matron to ask for an official investigation into Jina’s death?”
“What?” Nisha stopped in the middle of hanging up her staff. “Why?”
“They’re afraid,” Josei said. “Afraid that it could be a girl from the Houses. The City of a Thousand Dolls was founded under the Second Lotus Emperor because families from every caste were abandoning their unwanted children, especially girls. The City’s reputation allows our Emperor to continue to justify the limiting of a family’s size, which keeps the Empire’s population down and makes us easier to control. If the City of a Thousand Dolls ever fell, it would make people question the Empire’s way of sustaining itself inside the Barrier.
“If the Emperor determines that the Council isn’t managing the City properly, he could replace them all. Remember, the Lotus family rose to power by channelin
g the people’s fear and anger to overthrow the Old Emperor. They know if it happened once, it could happen again.”
When Nisha realized she was pacing, she forced herself to stand still. “But that’s even more reason for the Council to let Matron investigate!” she cried. “They can’t just tie her hands like that.”
“They can,” Josei said grimly. “The Council has been trying to get rid of Matron since Akash tar’Vey was named Council Head. He wants her power for someone from his own family, and the other Council members are following his lead. They know the tar’Vey family is rising in the court, and they don’t want him as an enemy. Some of them they think Akash will increase the City’s wealth and importance, which will in turn benefit them all.”
Nisha looked down at her feet. “Like scavengers following a predator in hope of scraps.”
“Exactly.” Josei went on, “The official story now is that Jina’s death was an accident, like Atiy’s.”
“I don’t believe that, and neither will anyone else,” Nisha said. “How do you accidentally poison yourself?”
“But no one will argue with it.” Josei whirled the sword in her hands faster and faster. “The House Mistresses want to keep their positions, and none of the girls are going to make trouble this close to the Redeeming. Matron will try to investigate discreetly. But without someone who can move among the Houses freely without raising suspicions, it’s difficult.”
The blade flashed down, embedding itself in the table with a thunk.
Josei pulled it out, testing the edge. “None of the other servants have as much experience working with all the Houses as you do, and you have a … history of providing Matron with information. You might be able to turn that to your advantage.” She glanced at a nearby water clock. “I have to teach an archery class.” She patted Nisha on the shoulder and headed for the door. “Good luck.”
“Thank you,” Nisha said. But she wasn’t really paying attention. She stood still, her fingers drumming gently her staff.
Jerrit poked his head around the doorpost. You’re looking very thoughtful.
“I think—I think Josei just told me how I can buy some time from the Council.”
Jerrit sighed. I’m not going to like this, am I?
Nisha put the staff up and grabbed her overrobe. “Probably not. I’ll tell you on the way.”
Where?
Jerrit trotted after her, but Nisha did not slow. “To see Matron.”
The two walked in silence down the path toward the Council House. They passed a sitting garden, where a group of Music novices practiced a folk song. The lively tune made Nisha’s step a little lighter. Matron might not agree to her plan, but at least she was doing something.
As she approached the Council House, Nisha could see Pavilion Field and a bright cluster of colors. The tents were up and now the decorating could begin: The House Mistresses and novices would fill the tents with books and pillows and low tea tables, burn incense, and cover the ground with soft carpets. The longer a client stayed in the tent, the more likely he was to find a girl from that House that he wanted to speak for.
“Matron,” Nisha said, catching up to Matron outside her study. “Is there a way for you to take a message to the Council for me?”
Matron gave her a long look, then pushed open the door to her study. Heart thudding in her ears, Nisha followed.
“You have something to say to the Council?” Matron asked.
“Well,” Nisha said, smoothing the fabric of her Combat tunic. “I was thinking about what you said, about trying to convince the Council to hold off from selling me, and I have something to offer them.”
“Really?” Matron gave her a sharp, surprised look. “What would that be?”
Nisha’s throat felt dry and scratchy. She reached out mentally for Jerrit. I can’t do this.
You can, Jerrit whispered in her mind. I know you can.
Nisha swallowed. “I can help you figure out what happened to Jina.”
Matron said nothing, but Nisha struggled forward. “I know the Council won’t let you ask for official help. I can ask those questions for you.”
Matron paced the room, her silver asar glimmering. “I was hoping you’d offer something like this, Nisha. We really should be looking into Jina’s death. And if it’s only you investigating, we won’t have to risk anyone outside the City of a Thousand Dolls finding out.”
“And if I fail,” Nisha said, “the Council can always sell me after the Redeeming.”
The silence stretched out like a thin rope. Matron tapped her fingers on her arm. “You might have found the one thing that could convince the Council to wait. They want to have this … issue solved without scandal. If word gets out that girls are dying here, the City is finished. I can at least ask.”
Matron seated herself. She picked up some papers on her desk and set them down again. “Nisha, has it occurred to you that this might be dangerous?”
Nisha thought about Jina’s hair drifting in the water, her hands smudged black with charcoal and twisted in death. But life in the Houses could be dangerous in all kinds of ways.
“I’ll risk it,” she said. “I don’t have much choice.”
Matron nodded. “No, you don’t.” Something that might have been compassion touched her eyes; then she bent her head. “I’ll speak to the Council this afternoon. Good luck, Nisha.”
Nisha bowed and left Matron’s study. I’m going to need it, she thought.
Jerrit joined Nisha in her room as she changed back into her gray asar. I can’t believe she agreed to that. But what about Atiy? he sent.
Nisha paused. She had resisted connecting the deaths, too busy reassuring herself that Atiy’s death wasn’t her fault even if it was suicide. That there was no way she could have stopped it. The idea that it might have been murder made a chill ripple over her skin.
I don’t want to start there, she sent. She tried to keep the fear out of her words, make it sound like a rational decision. Let’s rule out Jina killing herself first.
All right, Jerrit sent. How?
Nisha frowned. Well, we want to know what poison she took. The best people to ask about poisons are the healers at the House of Jade.
17
THE HOUSE OF Jade was the quietest place on the estate. With the warm greenhouse on one side and an immaculate meditation garden on the other, and always smelling of herbs, ink, and old scrolls, the House of Jade exuded tranquility. The novices moved quietly, trying to imitate their teachers. No one ever raised her voice. Here Nisha was always treated with detached courtesy.
Jade’s perfect rows of miniature trees in the meditation garden were beautiful, but unsatisfying, making Nisha long for tangled vines and wild spaces. Her favorite place in the House of Jade was the rehabilitation courtyard around the back, where the healers taught their craft by tending injured animals.
Sashi was in the back courtyard, kneeling beside a red deer with a broken leg. The doe lay on her side, panting softly, her pupils dilating and shrinking. Three of the other novices held the deer still, and one of the healers stood to the side.
Nisha paused in the archway. She watched as Sashi’s sure fingers set the slender bone. The deer trembled and jerked with every adjustment, but Sashi’s touch was gentle, and she seemed to make no mistakes. Once she had set and splinted the deer’s leg, she rose.
“Let her up,” Sashi said. “Let’s see if she can stand.”
The novices let the doe go and the animal struggled to her feet, holding the bandaged leg off the ground.
The healer walked around the deer, her calm eyes missing nothing. “Excellent work, Sashi,” she said. “Once we have found you an assistant to help you with sighted tasks, you will be a credit to your teachers.”
“Thank you, healer,” Sashi said. “I appreciate the confidence.”
The healer patted Sashi on the shoulder. “You will repay it; I have no doubt.” She turned to Nisha, acknowledging her with a nod of the head. “Be welcome, Nisha.”
“Nisha?” Sashi turned. Her face was flushed with pleasure, her unfocused eyes warmer than they had been the last time Nisha had seen her. “How long have you been standing there?”
Nisha was so proud of her friend she couldn’t help herself. She ran forward and threw her arms around Sashi, hugging her tightly. “Long enough to watch the best healer-in-training I know. That was wonderful.”
“It was routine,” Sashi said, looking suddenly uncomfortable. She fidgeted. “Just a broken leg. But surely you didn’t come here just to tell me that.”
“I don’t think you need me to tell you,” Nisha said. She lowered her voice. “But I did have some questions for you, if you have the time.”
Sashi turned her face in the healer’s direction. The woman’s mouth tightened. She gestured to the watching novices.
“Sashi, I will see you later,” the healer said, inclining her head. “Good day to you, Nisha.” She walked away, trailed by the novices.
A servant in a pale-green tunic touched Sashi’s arm, then put a wet towel in her hands. Sashi turned away from Nisha, wiping the blood off her fingers. “What do you need?”
Sashi always responded better when she felt like people were being honest with her. And Jina had been a Jade novice.
“It’s about Jina,” Nisha said directly.
Sashi bent her head, her dark hair falling over her face. “It was a sad event,” she said. “But grief is another emotion we must clear from our minds if we are to be free. Why are you asking about her?”
“I knew her. And I want to understand what happened. What kind of poison killed her? Where did she get it?”
“The healers don’t know where she got it,” Sashi said. “But we do know what it was. Gunia seeds. There were a few mixed in with the seed mixture she was eating when she died. One seed alone can kill you. More than one—it would have been fast. Painful, but very quick.”
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