City of a Thousand Dolls (7 page)

“What?” Nisha was too surprised to hide her reaction. “That’s crazy. You’re the calmest person I know.”

Sashi gave an almost imperceptible shrug. “You know what the canon of Jade caste says: ‘Two things cause unrest: the accumulation of wealth and the accumulation of affections.’ I’m too attached to people.”

“You care,” Nisha said. “How can that be a bad thing?”

“Because it clouds judgment,” Sashi said, with complete conviction. “Just as the infatuation of romantic love makes it hard to see the person you love clearly, too much compassion can get in the way of helping others.” She shook herself, and her calm smile returned. “Enough about me. Your step is so tense that I can feel it through the floor.”

Nisha fought the urge to tell Sashi about Matron’s news. There was nothing Sashi could do about it anyway.

“I am upset,” she said instead. “Something awful happened today.” In a few quick words, she told Sashi what she’d seen outside the House of Pleasure.

Sashi listened in silence. Her hands played with the lavender stem, breaking it into pieces. “What an unfortunate thing,” she said with forced detachment. “The loss of a life is magnified when it’s by the person’s own hand.”

Nisha stared at her. “Unfortunate? Sashi, you don’t have to be a healer with me.”

“I have to be a healer with everyone. And it’s true. Everybody dies. Young and old, rich and poor, we all face the same end. And you can’t help if you’re paralyzed by the sadness of it.”

“But doesn’t it
matter
?” Nisha asked. “She was alive and she was important, to Camini, even if to no one else. Just because it’s something that happens to everyone doesn’t mean we should accept how it happened.”

“Nisha …” Sashi sighed. “Never mind. I’m sorry. I’m making it worse. It just … hasn’t been an easy day for me, either.” A small, rueful smile flickered across her face, and for a moment, Nisha saw the young girl Sashi used to be. “Forgive me?”

“Of course,” Nisha said. “I thought I’d slice up lemongrass for tea. That usually helps.”

“That’s a wonderful idea.” This time Sashi’s smile warmed the room. “If you prepare the lemongrass, I’ll warm the water for you. I’ll add my special ingredient. It’s guaranteed to calm the nerves.”

Nisha slid her hands into the pockets of her House of Combat tunic, and a piece of paper fluttered to the floor. It was the poem she’d picked up in Tanaya’s room. Nisha unfolded the thin rice paper and scanned Tanaya’s precise, perfect handwriting.

The imagery of the poem tugged at Nisha. Frost flowers were white flowers with red centers that grew during Earthsleep. They were rarely seen, because they grew in out-of-the-way places, alone.

Nisha tucked the poem away. She knew how lonely the frost flowers felt. The words
the Council wants to sell you
still pounded in her brain. And there was no one who could protect her.

No one.

THE NEXT MORNING Nisha began her quest for an endorsement at the House of Music. Wrapped in her saffron-yellow Music asar, Nisha made her way down the thin path that connected the Council House to the House of Music. Despite the seriousness of her mission, she found herself practicing dance steps as she walked. She loved the way her Music asar flowed and swirled around her.

Nisha’s steps slowed when she reached the open area where the men were setting up the Redeeming pavilions. The large eight-sided tents consisted of panels of embroidered silk and brocade and were put up early so the House Mistresses and novices could spend days decorating them in the manner they wished. The decorations varied each year, sometimes following rumored fashions from the court, sometimes in entirely unexpected ways to highlight how unusual, how special each House’s novices were.

Usually Pavilion Field was just a large swath of grass dotted with nodding white, purple, and yellow flowers. But now the field rang with shouts and mallet blows as builders from the capital city of Kamal erected the thin, strong frames of wood that held up the tents. The flowers and thick grass were hidden by stacks of wooden poles and heaps of colored fabrics. Nisha saw a pile of deep-green brocade with a pattern of swans that she knew would transform into the Jade pavilion. Next to it was a heap of shimmering ruby silk embroidered with parrots that belonged to the House of Pleasure.

On the day of the Redeeming, this field would be even more crowded. House of Music novices would dance and sing stories, Beauty girls would paint delicate ceramics and pour tea, and Combat novices would spar next to their pavilion, all watched by strangers. The chatter and laughter, the swirling crowd—it was the closest thing to a festival that Nisha had ever known.

The only House that would be missing from the fun was the House of Flowers. The House of Flowers alone conducted its demonstrations at the Redeeming masquerade. Over the course of the evening, every Flower novice would demonstrate a full formal Imperial Court bow before the wooden throne. The throne was reserved for whichever noble was overseeing the Redeeming that year. The girl would touch the noble’s feet with her fan, bring the fan to her chest, and then give the formal bow with hands pressed together. Everything about it had to be perfect: the message of the novice’s asar, her fan movements, the precise angle of her head. There could be no flaws.

The House of Flowers always strove for perfection, since the noble Flower caste it serviced valued flawlessness above all other things. There could be no scars, no permanent injuries among the girls. Nisha had even known girls who were transferred out of the House of Flowers after an accident left them unsuitable in some way.

This year Tanaya would be presented to the High Prince in a ceremony at the height of the masquerade. Nisha imagined it: everyone—nobles, servants, and Mistresses—lining the hall, eyes watching Tanaya’s long, slow walk to the base of the throne, waiting as the prince passed his judgment.

It was enough to terrify anyone.

You’re deep in thought
, Jerrit sent, trotting up next to Nisha. A few bits of bird feathers clung to his whiskers.

“Have a nice hunt?” Nisha asked.

Jerrit sat and began to wash his face with one tawny paw.
An excellent one
.
And you’re dodging
.

Nisha waved her hand at the Pavilion Field. “That,” she said. “All that. A place for everyone, and everyone exactly where they belong.”

Except you
.

“Except me.”

Well, I know where you belong
, Jerrit sent.
You belong with us
.

Nisha laughed. “Of course I do. But where do
we
belong?”

That’s a different question. And I wish I had the answer
, Jerrit sent, unusually serious.

“I was afraid you’d say that,” Nisha said. “Can you at least help me figure out what to say when I meet Devan? I need to practice.”

I suppose
, Jerrit sent.
If it will help
.

“It might,” Nisha said. “It can’t make me more nervous.” She sat down on the grass, put Jerrit on her outstretched legs, and looked into his golden-brown eyes.

“Devan,” she said, “I want to ask you about the Redeeming.”

What about it?

For a moment, fear closed Nisha’s throat, the words too heavy to say. But Jerrit’s gaze calmed her. If she could say this to anyone, it would be Jerrit.

“I care about you,” she said in a rush. “I love the time we spend together. I love how kind and funny you are. I want you to come to the Redeeming and speak for me. If you want to.”

Jerrit’s oblong pupils were wide and dark. He blinked, breaking eye contact.
That sounds good
, he sent. Then,
If I were Devan, I’d never say no
.

“Unfortunately for me, you’re not Devan,” Nisha said. “I know he likes me, and that he cares about me, but it takes more than that to want to marry someone.”

Jerrit made a low and unhappy sound and jumped out of her lap.
He’s not the one risking his life to … If he doesn’t realize how special you are, he doesn’t deserve you. Not that he deserves you anyway
.

Nisha felt her face grow warm and coughed. “We’d better hurry,” she said. “Today of all days, I can’t be late for my lesson.”

She ran the rest of the way to the House of Music, Jerrit running easily beside her. The front entry of the House led straight into the concert hall. It was propped open, allowing the sounds of rhythmic percussion to flow through the half-open door. Under the drums, Nisha heard the faint jingle of ankle bells.

Sounds like they’re in the middle of something
, Nisha sent to Jerrit.
Let’s go around back
.

Through one of the House’s long, wide windows, Nisha saw a girl in a yellow tunic and trousers practicing a dance that made her sway like a young birch. Through another, an older girl showed a younger novice how to mend her sitt-harp.

Nisha felt some of her worry ease. This was her favorite House, ever since she had discovered the way music wrapped around her while she danced, keeping out the world, making her feel graceful and free. She would never be as good as Zann had been at playing, but the House of Music—and its Mistress, Vinian—made her feel safe. Maybe she
could
get an endorsement here.

“Nisha!” House Mistress Vinian appeared in the back entryway in a flutter of saffron. Tiny and intense, the Music Mistress always reminded Nisha of a vibrating harp string. Vinian’s dark-gray eyes glowed with affection as she reached out to hug Nisha. “Are you here for your lesson?”

Nisha felt Vinian’s small, straight frame under her loose asar. “Of course,” she said, glad to be there. “When do I ever miss it?”

At her feet, Jerrit mewed.

Vinian looked down and laughed. “Still popular with our local good luck charms, I see. I’m glad someone pays attention to them.” She reached out for Jerrit, who ducked behind Nisha, bringing another laugh from Vinian.

“Nisha, after you’re done, you must come into the kitchen and have tea with me. I want to know how your Redeeming plans are going.”

Nisha knew she needed to jump at the opportunity. “I’d love to! I have something I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Wonderful! I’ve got to oversee the next exam, but come to the kitchen when your lesson is done and we’ll talk!” Vinian’s intricate braid of black hair swung as she turned, and darted off.

She always overwhelms me
, Jerrit sent.
Makes my claws itch
.

Nisha laughed and joined the other girls, who were already going through their stretches. She slid into place next to Tanaya, who gave her a smile. Nisha tried to clear her mind and focus on the warm, loose feel of her muscles, savoring the way her body did exactly what she asked when she asked for it.

Here at least, she was in control.

The dance began, and all she wanted was to lose herself in the rhythm and flow of the music. But as hard as she tried, she couldn’t forget her anxiety or let go of the nagging tension in her shoulders. Her movements were blocky, her steps a hair too slow.

Frustrated, Nisha watched Tanaya next to her, envying her friend’s easy movements, the way her silken fan danced like a butterfly. All the girls in the class were learning the dance, but only the girls from the House of Flowers danced with fans.

The dance was set to a story-song about the Sune, magical half-animal, half-human creatures that lived in the mountains and forests of the Empire. Nisha had never seen one—they were reclusive and stayed away from humans—but she knew they could switch from animal to human in the space of a breath. It was said they were fierce fighters and loyal to their tribe above all else.

This dance illustrated a fable, a story about a tiger-Sune who fell in love with a human man. She abandoned her tribe to stay with him in a village, but it wasn’t long before she became homesick. At the end of the dance, the tiger-Sune returned to her home in the forest, leaving her husband and young son behind.

The steps told the tale, but the fans communicated its emotions. By the end, Nisha lost herself in the story, and when the girls’ fans snapped shut in the final beats of the song, she felt her eyes sting with sadness.

She was almost glad to start the cooldown exercises. Dancing was hard work, and she was thirsty and sore.

The moment Nisha sat down in the House of Music’s warm, open kitchen, Vinian appeared with two steaming cups of pale golden tea.

“How are you, dear?” she asked.

“I’m well, thank you, Mistress,” Nisha said. She wrapped her hands around the warm ceramic and took a deep breath. “But I do have a … problem. I told you that Matron asked me to go to the Redeeming this year, but I … might not be able to go anymore.”

“That’s terrible!” Vinian said, her eyes warming with sympathy.

“I was hoping you could help me.” Nisha’s fingers pressed into the thin clay of the teacup so hard that she thought she might break it. “Matron said if I had an endorsement from a House Mistress, I would have a much better chance to find someone to speak for me, and to speak for me at a sum that … pleases the Council. And I thought, since I love to dance …”

Nisha kept her eyes on the ripples of amber tea, afraid to look at Vinian. “Is there anything you can do?”

Now that the question was out, Nisha dared to raise her eyes. Vinian’s mouth was very serious, and her fingernails tapped on the glossy surface of her cup.

“Nisha,” she said gently, “I would love to claim you as one of mine.” She paused. “But I must be honest with you. The market for dancers is getting more and more specific. At last year’s Redeeming, I found no men to speak for my generally trained dancers. I had to send them to train at the House of Beauty so they would have a chance this year.” The Music Mistress spread her hands. “If I could help you, Nisha, believe me, I would. But I have to save these chances for my own girls. They have no other skills.”

The stone that had fallen in Nisha’s stomach sank heavier than ever. She pressed her ankle against Jerrit’s warm fur underneath the table. “I understand. Thank you.”