“Is that … is that a common choice for suicides?”
Sashi looked up, her forehead creased in thought. “Not that I know of. The herbal books say most people use an overdose of sleeproot or ladydeath. Those make you drowsy, send you to sleep, and you just never wake up. Besides, the gunia seeds are locked up, like all our poisons. Only the full healers have the key.”
Nisha shuddered at the words all our poisons. “So if Jina had wanted to kill herself, she’d have had to break into the poison cupboard?”
Sashi nodded. “And no one broke the lock. The healers checked. The cupboard hasn’t been opened since we mixed up a batch of red paint a couple of days ago for the girls at the House of Beauty.”
“You make poison paint?” Nisha asked.
Sashi’s studied calm cracked, and she smiled grimly. “Not exactly. Ground up, gunia seeds are a bright, vibrant red. We add some clay and herbs to neutralize the poison before mixing the paint. You wouldn’t want to drink it, but you won’t die if you get it on your skin.”
Nisha scratched her forehead. If Jina had killed herself, she would have researched the poison first. Why would she have chosen this one?
“Thank you, Sashi,” she said. “Can we keep this between us? I don’t want Matron to know I’m asking questions outside of my regular duties.”
“Of course.” Sashi eyebrows flashed up in surprise. “I’m surprised you have to ask.”
It was true—no one could pry a secret out of Sashi. Why had Nisha felt like she had to ask Sashi to keep quiet? Her mind spun with the new information she’d learned—she wasn’t thinking clearly.
The healer appeared in the doorway of the main building. “Sashi, it’s time for your study period.”
Sashi gave Nisha a forced smile. “I have to go. I’ll talk to you later—over tea, perhaps?”
The servant took Sashi’s elbow, guiding her over the small step. The healer stared at Nisha for a moment, then followed Sashi inside.
Nisha went and sat down heavily on a bench in the meditation garden. Unlike the other garden spaces in the City, there were no riots of flowers, no sheltering trees. Instead it was a calm, open space, dotted with stretches of sand that rippled like a river. Benches sat on pools of moss, and the miniature trees were carefully and precisely trimmed. It was the perfect place to consider what she’d learned.
Jina hadn’t killed herself. Nisha knew it in her gut the way she knew hunger and sleep and danger. The girl with the clear-eyed smile, the girl who had to know everything, wouldn’t have chosen to spend her last minutes in that kind of pain. Someone had scattered those deadly seeds into her food on purpose. Someone had murdered her.
The last time anyone had access to the cupboard was when the healers made the paint—but Nisha couldn’t believe a Jade healer could have killed one of her own. Besides, someone with a healer’s knowledge could kill in subtler ways. They wouldn’t use a clumsy poison like gunia seeds and make Jina’s death a spectacle in the center of the City.
Could a few whole gunia seeds have accidentally been mixed in with the paint before going to the House of Beauty? But that didn’t make sense either. The House of Beauty and the House of Jade hardly ever overlapped. The House of Jade considered the worship of physical beauty to be a shallow and unworthy pursuit, even if they did make kohl and who knew what other concoctions for the Beauty girls. And Nisha had heard the Beauty girls dismiss the House of Jade as being boring and cold. But dislike was not a reason to kill.
Nisha watched a tiny black spider crawl across the soft sand near her foot. The more she found out, the more confusing everything became.
Nisha spent the rest of the day crossing items off the list Rajni had given her. She easily found kohl for the girls’ eyes and the ribbons. But not all the girls had extra hairpins to share, and those who did were willing to give up only a few. Each time she got a handful, Nisha delivered them to the House of Beauty and tried to talk to one of the girls in private. But Beauty girls—more than any of the other girls in the City—hated to be alone. They slept in groups, ate in groups, and moved in crowds like herd animals. Once Nisha learned from one young novice at exactly what time the red paint had been delivered to the House of Beauty, she started trying to figure out where the girls were at the time.
It wasn’t difficult to get the girls to talk. They were all buzzing about the upcoming masquerade, and most of them were spending all their time getting ready. All Nisha had to do was fix them with wide eyes and ask questions.
I’ve never been to the Redeeming before. It must be so exciting. How do you even prepare?
Oh there’s so much to do. Yesterday I had to spend the whole morning giving myself a lemon-and-cucumber mask, because I woke up with a pimple. And then I had to go a dance lesson, and finish painting my display teacup and—
But every girl Nisha talked to had been attending a lesson or had been with two or three others who could vouch for her. She wandered into the art room and picked up a bottle of fresh red paint. She peered through the cloudy glass. There was no sign that any stray gunia seeds had gotten into the bottle, and the seal was still unbroken. The seeds couldn’t have come from this paint.
Nisha was tired and discouraged, and a headache tugged just above her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to go back to her room, but instead she grabbed a quick lunch and went back to the House of Jade.
The Jade girls seemed glad to finally talk about their dead friend. Nisha didn’t even have to ask questions. She only offered sympathy.
I’m sorry about Jina. I wish I had known her better.
Those words opened the floodgates, even from the most disciplined Jade novices.
She was so kind.
Not an enemy in the world.
Everybody loved her.
It made Nisha wish she really had known Jina better. The thought filled her with a peculiar sense of loss, as if she were mourning something that never had a chance to be. When she felt tears gather in her eyes, she knew it was time to leave.
On her way out, she sat down on the steps of the House of Jade and took several deep breaths. Everyone agreed that Jina had no enemies and no rivals, so her death probably wasn’t personal. She’d been killed from a distance, like someone would poison a pest.
But why?
Nisha remembered Jina’s mischievous grin. There’s a shelf of restricted scrolls in our Mistress’s private study.... Maybe the Shadow-walkers got her.
An ice-cold chill skittered down Nisha’s spine. Jina had been convinced the Shadow-walkers were real. Had she seen something in those scrolls she wasn’t supposed to see? Was someone willing to kill to protect her secrets?
Matron was reading a scroll but looked up when Nisha walked into her study.
“Nisha, hello. I took your message to the Council, and they agreed to hold off on selling you for now. Akash was surprisingly open to the idea, though he made it clear the buyer is very impatient.”
Matron’s voice was dry with suspicion, but Nisha didn’t care. She had bought herself time. And with time, anything was possible. Maybe Devan would speak for her after all. The Council would never dare to turn down a nobleman’s son. If Devan could convince his parents before Akash or Kalia found out … Or maybe, if she had to, she could find the courage to escape.
Matron interrupted Nisha’s thoughts. “So what have you learned?”
Nisha sighed. “The poison that killed Jina came from Jade.” She repeated what Sashi had told her “But Sashi also said that only the people who made the paint had any access to the gunia seeds. I want to find out more about what Jina was working on. She said she was researching love poetry, but I’m not sure if that was all. I have a suspicion … that she might have been killed because she knew something she wasn’t supposed to.”
“Jina was known for her curious mind. I’m sure it never occurred to her that there could be something in the world that you’re not supposed to know,” Matron said with a wry smile. “It’s certainly a point worth pursuing.�
�� She paused. “Do you think she found out about anything in particular?”
Nisha hesitated. If Jina was uncovering secrets in the Houses, one of the people who could have stood to gain by her death was Matron. Matron could have arranged for Jina’s death easily, could have agreed to let Nisha to investigate just to throw suspicion off herself.
But Matron was the only thing standing between her and life as a bond slave, and Nisha had to trust her. She did trust her.
“Jina told me something interesting the day before she died,” Nisha said. “She hinted that she’d sneaked into the House Mistress’s study and read the restricted scrolls there.”
Matron’s eyes widened. “Those scrolls are forbidden to novices. They’re for the House Mistress’s private use only.”
“But why?” Nisha leaned forward. “The whole point of being a scholar at the House of Jade is to learn the truth.”
“Knowledge isn’t a game of dice, Nisha,” Matron said, her words as sharp as the point of a knife. “You don’t win by finding out more than everyone else. Knowledge is dangerous. Certain … aspects of the Empire are dangerous. Girls might learn those secrets too, in time, but they will learn them under the tutelage of scholars who can guide them.”
Nisha considered this. “What if Jina found something in the scrolls that someone was willing to kill for? She mentioned the Shadow-walkers—”
Matron set her scroll down with a snap. “Please, Nisha. The Shadow-walkers are a legend, a tale the servants use to scare young children.” Her eyes slid away from Nisha’s. “You’ll have to do better than silly rumors if you want the Council to believe that you can solve this.”
Rubbing the back of her neck, Matron picked up another scroll, her voice steady. “If that’s all, I have a lot of work to do. You’re dismissed.”
Nisha stared at Matron, her mouth open.
Matron was lying to her. The way she’d shut down the conversation, the way she’d glanced away, all of it reeked of a lie. Matron could be evasive, even manipulative, but to Nisha’s knowledge she had never outright lied to her before. It was unexpectedly painful.
Matron looked up. “Is that everything, Nisha? I said you’re dismissed.”
It was a clear command, and Nisha obeyed it. She walked out of the study, her heart thumping with the betrayal.
Matron had lied to her, had tried to throw her off course. Nisha knew it down to her core. And if Matron was lying, that meant that some part of the rumors had to be true.
Nisha quickened her steps. Somewhere on the estate there might be a House that trained assassins, a shadow House that no one knew about. A House that could be connected to Jina’s death.
And Nisha had to find it.
To some eyes, Aarya’s death looks like a simple training accident. But the Mistress of Shadows is convinced that the novice Aarya stepped into the path of that dagger on purpose. Aarya had become increasingly restless and distraught over her future, begging to be transferred to another House, calling herself a monster.
I and no other bear the guilt for her death, but what could I do? Aarya was raised in the ways of the Black Lotus. It would have been too dangerous to put her with the other girls. My concern is the City as a whole. If the novices knew all the things we trained girls for, knew the dark requests we are sometimes called upon to fill…
There was no other choice. But I do not think I will sleep well for some time.
From the scrolls of the Matron of the Houses
18
NISHA CLOSED HER eyes and saw the City of a Thousand Dolls as if she were looking at a builder’s plans. There were the six Houses: the House of Flowers, the House of Beauty, the House of Pleasure, the House of Combat, the House of Jade, and the House of Music. There was the Council House, the bathhouse, the cremation field, the gardens, the stables, the forest—
Her eyes flew open. The forest, the one behind the House of Combat. Nisha had been to every corner of the estate, but she had never bothered to go deep into the small forest inside the walls. The trees were too thick, reminding her of the woods outside the City.
But if I were hiding a House full of assassins, that’s exactly where I’d put it, Nisha thought. That’s where I have to go next.
Getting into the forest was easy. Combat novices practiced scouting in the fringes all the time, so all Nisha had to do was put on her Combat tunic and trousers, and she blended right in.
It was finding the House that proved difficult.
After creeping past all the Combat girls on the outskirts of the forest, watching, listening, and searching for what felt like hours, Nisha was hot and discouraged. There were no paths through the forest, and the trees grew close together. Her tunic caught on branches, bushes, and thorns. As the trees thickened and the light dimmed, she could barely see her own feet.
What in the name of the Long-Tailed Cat are you doing out here? The voice was low and tinged with amusement. Esmer appeared like a ghost near Nisha’s feet. Her dark-gray spots were black in the fading light.
Are you looking for what I think you’re looking for? Esmer sent.
“That depends,” Nisha said, folding her arms. “Are you following me?”
Of course, Esmer sent, without shame. You didn’t think we’d let you go hunting by yourself, did you? Besides, this forest is my favorite spot to catch breakfast.
Nisha almost bit her tongue in frustration. The cats hunted all over the estate. Of course they would know if there was a secret House somewhere. Nisha was starting to get the feeling that the cats knew a lot more than she did about this place.
I need to find the House that trains assassins, she sent. It’s important.
Esmer flicked her slender tail. Why?
“Because people are dying,” Nisha snapped. “And I need to find out why.”
Esmer shook herself. I suppose I can’t blame you for that, she sent. The House you’re looking for is called the House of Shadows, but they have nothing to do with any of this.
Nisha pushed past a wild rosebush, scratching her hand in the process. “How could you possibly know that?” she asked, holding up her hand. “Never mind. I have to talk to them myself. If I can ever find them, that is.”
Well, you’ve been going in circles for about twenty minutes.
Nisha stopped. She had passed this way before.
Esmer sat in one of the few beams of soft light and washed her ears.
Nisha waited. All her years with the cats had taught her patience. Esmer yawned and began to lick her shoulder clean.
The cat curled up and closed her eyes.
Nisha gave up. “Esmer!”
The cat blinked. What?
“Do you know where the House of Shadows is?”
Maybe. Esmer started to wash her tail.
“Will you tell me how to get there? Please?” Nisha forced the “please” through clenched teeth. She knew better than to be rude to a cat when she needed a favor.
Esmer sat straight, her playful manner gone. On one condition. You take me with you. You need someone at your back.
Nisha bent down and petted the cat’s sleek fur. She had a point. If Esmer was wrong, and the Shadow-walkers did have something to do with Jina’s death, walking in there alone would be the height of stupidity. Nisha would still do it, but it would be stupid nonetheless.
“All right, you can come,” she said. “Will they talk to me?”
Esmer gave a purr that shook her body like a laugh would a human’s. You might be surprised.
The way to the House of Shadows was a deer trail, so narrow that it was almost invisible. Thick, thorny trees grabbed at Nisha’s legs. Esmer led the way, a pale flicker in the still gloom.
Finally they stepped out of the trees and into a natural clearing. A small brick building occupied one corner. Like the Houses she knew, it was copper trimmed and flat roofed. A greenish-black blanket of heavy vines smothered half the structure. Ropes, some smooth and slender, others thick and knotted, hung down the sides. Shadows blur
red the roof.
Fascinated, Nisha stepped forward, ignoring Esmer’s warning hiss.
Nisha! Don’t!
Something leaped onto Nisha from a nearby tree, slamming her into the ground. Blinding pain shot through her cheek. Someone forced a gag into her mouth, a silk cloth that tasted like black pepper and burned her tongue and lips. Slender cords that cut like wire bound her wrists and ankles. There was a jabbing pressure between her shoulder blades that felt very much like a knee. Through watery eyes, Nisha saw a black leather boot step into her field of vision.
“Adequate, Mayanti, quite adequate.” The voice was like velvet over ice, soft and freezing to the touch. “You snapped a twig before you leaped, though. If this intruder had not been staring like a frightened goat, she would have heard you, perhaps pulled a knife, like this.”
There was a flicker of motion just above her, and the weight on Nisha’s back grew very still. A warm drop of liquid dripped onto Nisha’s cheek, and it wasn’t until it ran down and touched the corner of her mouth, all copper and bitter and sweet, that she realized it was blood.
“Tell me the price of carelessness, Mayanti,” the velvety voice commanded.
“Death, Shadow Mistress.” The girl sounded neither terrified nor hurt, just calm and wary.
“And the price of hesitation?” More hot blood dribbled into Nisha’s hair and trickled into her ear. She fought to keep from struggling.
“Death, Shadow Mistress,” the girl said.
The Shadow Mistress’s voice dropped to a purring whisper. “And the price of failure?”
The girl shifted, sending a twisting pain through Nisha’s spine.
“Death,” she said. “The Black Lotus has never failed. The Black Lotus will never fail. We are the shadow in the alley, the arrow in the dark. We are—”
“Death,” the woman finished, a tinge of amusement warming the words. “You have performed to expectation, Mayanti. You may go.”
The pressure melted off Nisha’s back, and the cords were whisked away as though they had never been there. Nisha scrambled to her feet and tore off the gag. She wiped the blood from her cheek and ear; then, her mouth still burning, she turned to meet the Mistress of the House of Shadows.
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