“Those goats are our main livelihood,” Stefan explained as he carried Nisha past a group of old women carding piles of fluffy goat hair. “The Arvi are the best spinners in all the clans of the Kildi, and we make the finest cashmere in the Empire.”
The women nodded and smiled at them.
“Are all these people from the same family?” Nisha asked, a bit dizzy from the noise.
Stefan nodded. “We are all Arvi. These are your father’s aunts, uncles, and cousins.”
Nisha watched the Kildi go about their business, each one with a blood tie more binding than rope. “It must be nice, belonging somewhere like this.” The wistfulness of her own voice surprised her, and Stefan’s voice softened in reply.
“A Kildi without clan is like a crane without a flock. But those days are over. You’re not alone anymore.”
Nisha wanted to believe him. But too many questions were still unanswered.
“If you are my uncle, why did you leave me in the City for so long? Why didn’t you come and get me?”
“I tried,” Stefan said, his brows furrowing in anger. “Right after your parents died. I went to the harridan who runs the place and begged to get you back. She said it wasn’t safe for you to leave yet. Safe! As if you were safe there with those unnatural people, bending you into whatever they thought they could sell you for!”
Stefan’s anger blended into shame, and he looked away. “I was still reeling from my brother’s death, you understand, and I was furious that he had taken you to the City without telling me first. So when she told me to get out … I left.”
Stefan carried Nisha past a row of flat wagons heavy with supplies. A handful of small donkeys with limpid eyes grazed nearby. One donkey wandered over to them, ears alert. Nisha put her hand to the soft muzzle and received a wet snuffle in return.
“Left?” she asked. “What do you mean?”
Stefan let out a breath. “I mean we all left. I packed the camp and took us to the wild places in the east.”
Nisha stared at him. “I was there for ten years! You never once came back to make sure I was all right, that I hadn’t been turned out or sold?”
“I lost my temper.”
“For ten years?”
Stefan didn’t answer. Instead he carried Nisha to the edge of the camp. Here the forest spilled into the clearing, and the noise of the camp was surrounded and overcome by the silence of the trees.
Stefan lowered her to the base of a tree. Nisha hissed as the movement sent another wave of pain through her leg.
Her uncle rubbed his hand over his face.
“Nisha, the City of a Thousand Dolls represents everything that’s wrong with the Empire. The way they groom girls to accept the fates chosen for them, the way they give them no choice and then sell them … we would rather send our children to other clans or to be raised by the elderly than give them up to that. I was furious with my brother for leaving you there. And then he died.”
Nisha was unable to hold back the question anymore. “How did they die? And why did they leave me at the City?”
Stefan sat next to her, cross-legged. “To explain that, I have to tell you who your parents were. Your father was the Master Trader of our clan. He had a smile that made you trust him at once, and a silver tongue that could sell you anything. He was in charge of all the buying and selling, including the trade we did with the City of a Thousand Dolls.”
Disgust wrinkled Stefan’s face. “I confess, I was more than happy to let him handle that. That place has always made my skin crawl. Your mother usually went with him. She wasn’t Kildi. Emil had fallen in love with her on a trip to Kamal and brought her home.”
“Tell me about her,” Nisha whispered. Am I like her? Did she love me?
Stefan smiled and put a hand on her head. “Your mother was strong and graceful, and she moved like the wind over the river. She had been some kind of warrior, but she never talked to anyone but your father about her past. I saw her fight a few times, and she was as deadly as she was beautiful. Your father called her Shar, which means tiger-cat in the old tongue. And since it seemed fitting—the tiger is the symbol of the Arvi clan—that’s what we all called her. She worked hard and made my brother happy, so to us, she was family.”
The earth under Nisha was cold and hard, and she pulled the cashmere blanket tighter, ignoring her aching leg. “What happened to them?”
Stefan shook his head. “I’m not sure,” he said. “We camped here, as we did every year at that time. Your parents went on a routine trading trip to one of the fishing villages, somewhere they’d been a thousand times before. You had a touch of fever, so they left you here. They were gone a long time—much, much longer than they should have been. When they did return, your father’s eyes were like those of a hunted thing. They said they had broken a cart axle, but I knew they were lying. They didn’t leave the camp much after that, and they grew quieter and quieter, always looking over their shoulders.”
Nisha’s throat felt tight. What could have terrified her parents so much?
Stefan continued, “One morning the children found a dead grouse, lying on its back with wings spread out in the middle of camp. I assumed it had been killed by a wolf or a fox, but I was standing next to your mother when she saw it, and her face—Before or since, I’ve never seen anyone so frightened. The next day your father disappeared into the woods with you. When he came back, you weren’t with him. When I pressed him …”
The man’s grim tone suggested he’d done more than pressed.
“When I pressed him, he said he’d left you at the City of a Thousand Dolls, that it was the safest place for you now. I couldn’t believe it. I demanded he go and get you back, but he refused. He said you would be safe, that he and your mother had made sure of that, and that if anything happened to them, I was to leave you there for at least one year. The next day your parents were gone. Their bodies were found on the road to Kamal.”
There was silence as vast as the forest beside them. Nisha felt empty, as if the story had hollowed her out. Her parents were dead, and she couldn’t even tell them how much she hated them for leaving her. Or how much she had missed them and wanted them back.
“How could they just leave me there?” The words splashed out of her like spilled tea.
Stefan started to pace. “Your parents loved you,” he said. “I don’t want you to doubt that.”
Too late, Nisha thought. “They might have been trying to protect me. But they abandoned me instead. I didn’t even know who I was.”
“I’m sorry,” Stefan said. “When that woman slammed the door in my face, I snapped. I was angry at my brother and angry at the City, and it was childish and stupid. But this year, you would be sixteen. You would be old enough to leave the City. I wanted to see if you were still safe. So we came back. And when I saw you outside the walls that day … looking so much like your father, and moving with your mother’s grace … I knew then that I was wrong. That you belong here with us, and you always have.”
Nisha looked out at the woods, at the pale trunks crowding close together, a wall as high and intimidating as any she’d ever seen.
“What about my friends?” she asked. But the words came out so quietly that Stefan didn’t hear her. And before she could ask again, they were interrupted by a voice from the woods.
“There’s my new patient. I’m glad to see you awake again, Nisha.”
A woman with a guarded smile stepped from the woods. She was sleek and dark, her hair black as a cormorant’s wing. She wore a muted brown-and-green tunic, different from the ordinary Kildi clothing Nisha had seen so far. Nisha saw no obvious Kildi mark on her skin.
The woman quickened her step and knelt down to feel the heavy cast on Nisha’s leg. “My name is Isita, camp healer. How is the pain?”
“Bearable,” Nisha said honestly. “Aishe gave me something for it. How long will it take to heal?”
The healer raised her head to Stefan’s in surprise. “You did not tell
her?” she asked.
The Kildi man shifted. “She didn’t ask. I thought it might be better explained by you.”
“I don’t understand.” Nisha looked from the healer to her uncle and back again. “Is it broken?”
Isita sat back on her heels and sighed. “Nisha, the boulder that fell on you landed right on your feet. Another stone protected your left foot, and it’s merely bruised. But your right foot is a different tale.” She shook her head. “You can thank the Ancestors that your foot wasn’t crushed. As it is, your right ankle and your right heel are both broken. I set the ankle and stopped the infection, but I couldn’t completely set your heel.”
Nisha stared at the healer for so long that her eyes stung. She’d spent enough time at the House of Jade to know that even the best healers couldn’t do much for a broken heel. She wouldn’t be able to put weight on her foot for at least a season. No more running or dancing or fighting. Even when it healed, she might have a limp for the rest of her life.
No one would want her now. Not as an apprentice, not as an assistant.
Maybe not as a wife. The thought of losing Devan when she’d only just recognized her feelings for him sent a pain through Nisha deeper than the one in her foot.
Isita touched her shoulder. Stefan had slipped away, leaving Nisha and the healer alone. Her smile had faded a little, and in her eyes was a sadness that Nisha didn’t understand.
“I knew your parents. They did me a great service once.” She touched Nisha’s leg just above the cast. “I would give much to be able to mend this, but I can’t. I can relieve your pain, though.”
The woman’s fingers were light on Nisha’s skin.
Nisha’s ankle throbbed once, then grew hot. The pain faded. She watched. It looked like magic, but that was impossible.
The healer saw Nisha’s puzzled expression. “Pressure points,” she explained. “Your foot will hurt horribly. But if you stay well rested, the pain should be minimal.” She smiled and nodded encouragingly, but Nisha thought she looked uneasy.
The woman rose with a limber grace. “I must go. There is a birthing I must attend on the other side of camp. I’ll tell Stefan to come for you.” She vanished into the tents and wagons.
Nisha watched her go. Her thoughts flew to her foot, to the bleak, uncertain future stretched out ahead of her. Her head pounded.
It was true, she’d felt like a nobody before. Now she was worthless in the eyes of anyone with sense. There would be no more dancing, sparring, or running down stone paths.
One stupid choice, one promise broken, and she was lost.
Nisha dropped her head into her hands.
27
A BRISK VOICE broke into Nisha’s dark thoughts. “That’s enough. No student of mine will sit around and feel sorry for herself.”
Josei settled down under the tree. Nisha gaped at her.
Josei gave her a feral grin. “You know, with your mouth open like that, you look like a carp.”
“Wha—what?” Nisha sputtered. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”
Josei shrugged. “When you disappeared, Matron sent me to find you. It took me an hour to track you to the quarry and two days of searching the rim to locate your trail back out. The Kildi always cover their tracks well, to protect their home camp from outsiders.”
“But if they hate to be found …” Nisha looked toward the camp. “Do they know you’re here?
“Oh, yes,” Josei said. “Fortunately, I’ve … dealt with the Arvi before. They weren’t happy that I demanded to see you, but as you can see, I was allowed.”
“Wait,” Nisha said, the meaning of Josei’s words sinking in. “It took you two days to find me? But I just left the City last night....” She trailed off.
How long had she been unconscious?
The fox-woman shook her head. “You were gone for three days.”
“Three days?” Nisha’s thoughts were in a whirl. Had Jerrit healed? Had there been another death? And if it had been three days, that meant…
“The Redeeming is tomorrow!”
“Yes,” Josei said. Her face was a careful blank. “Nisha,” she said, “you don’t have to come back with me. I could say I never found you, and you could stay here. The Kildi would take you in. They are your family.”
Nisha paused. It was true. She had felt trapped in the City of a Thousand Dolls. Now she was free, free from the danger of being sold, free from the constant fear of death.
Nisha waited for a feeling of relief or happiness, but instead she thought of Jerrit’s heartbeat under her hand, like the pulse of her own blood. She remembered Devan’s kisses, the sound of Sashi’s not unkind laughter when they made fun of the Beauty girls.
Sashi. Even if she didn’t go back for good, she had to help Sashi.
“Josei,” Nisha said, “Sashi can’t be the killer. Someone pushed a boulder on me at the quarry. There’s no way Sashi could have done it.”
Josei listened to Nisha in silence, a troubled expression in her brown-gold eyes. “I wish I had found you sooner,” she said.
Nisha’s hands went cold. “What do you mean?”
“Nisha, when you vanished, the Council placed Sashi under house arrest, confining her to her room. Akash has convinced the Council to charge her with all three deaths.”
“But she didn’t do it!” Nisha dug her fingers into the hard dirt. “You have to tell them!”
“I will try. But the Council, the whole City, is frightened, and frightened people often cling to the easy answer. My word won’t be enough.”
Nisha knew her word wasn’t more important than Josei’s, but she had to try. “Then I’ll have to go with you,” she said, sitting up straighter. “I’ll make them listen!”
Josei looked hard at Nisha, forcing her to meet her fierce eyes. “Nisha, you have no proof. And if you go back now, you will not get another chance to leave of your own free will. Is an attempt to clear your friend’s name worth risking your freedom?” She paused. “You can’t do this just to absolve your guilt for implicating Sashi.”
Nisha had made a mistake suspecting Sashi. Her dangerous conclusion, once said out loud, had set in motion events she had never intended. She had to fix it. But that wasn’t all.
There were other people she needed to see. The pull of her love for them tugged her back, making the dangers seem insignificant. The decision came to her as easily as her next breath.
“I’m going. Will you help?”
A satisfied smile of approval flitted across Josei’s face. “I’ve already asked the healer if you could travel. You shouldn’t try the journey until tomorrow. That gives us the rest of the day.” She clapped Nisha on the back.
“To do what?” Nisha asked, stunned.
Josei reached into her asar and pulled out two daggers with wrist sheaths. “To teach you how to use these. They are for you until you are healed enough to fight with a staff. I’ll not have it said that I sent any student of mine into the world defenseless.”
“Fight with a staff?” she asked, a faint hope whispering in her. “Like this?”
“Why not?” Josei snapped. “The best stick fighter I ever knew was a deaf old man with no toes on his left foot. You are still my student, and you will do as I say.”
“Yes, House Mistress,” Nisha said.
“Good.” Josei’s fierce smile made her look even more like a fox. “Let’s get started.”
At first Nisha was clumsy with the unfamiliar daggers. She was used to lati staffs and fighting sticks, weapons you controlled with your arms and your shoulders, weapons you held on to for the entire fight. She’d never been interested in learning how to use weapons that you just stood still and threw.
Her first attempt landed within an arm’s reach of Josei. The House Mistress handed the dagger back to her.
“Sit up straighter” was her only comment. Then, “Try again.”
Nisha sat up as straight as she could and put more force into the throw. This time the dagger flew
farther, but in a slightly different direction than she was aiming for. Again Josei retrieved it, telling her to add more follow-through.
Over and over again, Nisha threw the dagger, with Josei correcting her hand position, the angle of her shoulders, the timing of her release. Nisha saw that they were drawing a crowd. A group of children, including Stefan’s children, Maret and Sonja, were sitting nearby, faces alight with interest. Nisha gave them a shy smile and was thrilled when they smiled and waved back.
“Eyes on your target, Nisha.” But Josei was smiling too.
By midday, the cluster of children had grown to include men and women. When Nisha and Josei took a break to eat, a skinny boy with laughing dark eyes brought them roasted chicken and coarse, spiced rice. Several old men came to eat with them, patting Nisha’s shoulder and whispering encouragement and advice.
By the time Nisha could hit each tree she aimed at, the group of Kildi watching them had taken on the air of a festival. They cheered whenever she hit anywhere close to the target, bringing a blush of pleasure to her face.
As she let the last dagger fly, she heard an approving chuckle behind her.
Stefan’s broad, bearded face stretched in a wide grin. “It is good not to lie down and be swallowed by the wolves of fate. You are as determined as your father.”
Not even her sore arm could stop the grin that spread across Nisha’s face. “I would like to come back someday,” she said. “May I?”
Stefan laughed. “Come back? Why would you even need to leave? You don’t belong to that place anymore. You belong to us.”
Her uncle’s expectations pulled on Nisha like thin, strong wire. He thought she was here to stay. How could she explain to him that he was wrong? That there were people she loved in the City, people she had to try to save?
“Thank you,” Nisha said carefully. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you want me here. But I have to go back. There is something I have to do.”
“There is nothing in that cursed place important enough to risk yourself,” Stefan said, his eyes darkening. “I can’t allow it.”
City of a Thousand Dolls Page 19