City of a Thousand Dolls (25 page)

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.

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.”

“But there is,” Nisha said. “You don’t understand. But I’ll come back, I promise.”

Stefan’s eyes narrowed, and something hardened in his face. “Is this about that nobleman I saw you with?”

“What?” Nisha stared at him. Had Stefan been
spying
on her?

“I told you, I saw you outside the walls. I was making sure you were safe,” Stefan said. “So I hid and watched, and you came. I almost killed that boy for putting his hands on you. But I thought you might be pretending, trying to gain a protector. That was good. Don’t tell me you actually care for that soppy wretch.”

“And what if I do?” Nisha answered, her temper kindling. “What if I love him?”

Beside her, she felt Josei draw a breath, but the fox-woman stayed silent.

“Love?” Her uncle spit out the word. “Do you even know what the word means? Those Flower people—” he said the words with disgust. “They displaced us and condemned us to wander for five hundred years. And they claim privileges they should not have because they ‘saved’ the Empire. From us! I should have stuck my dagger into him when I had the chance.”

Nisha felt dizzy and sick. It seemed the Kildi had rules as unyielding as the ones that governed the City of a Thousand Dolls. She took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly.

“I know the nobles overthrew you. I understand why you would hate them. But Devan … he’s not like that. He has nothing to do with why I’m really going back. I have to go back to help a friend who’s in trouble.”

“You can’t help,” Stefan said evenly. “Those people twist children the way a spinner twists thread. Everything they touch rots. No girl who lives there could be uncorrupted.”

Hurt sliced through Nisha, as sharp and as unexpected as a thin blade in her back. “Not even me?” she asked, her voice quiet. “I was there for ten years.”

Her eyes met her uncle’s, and he flinched. His broad shoulders slumped. “Don’t you want to stay?” he asked.

Nisha swallowed. “Yes.” And she did. But she couldn’t sacrifice the people she cared about just to keep herself safe. She tried to explain—after all, her uncle clearly believed in loyalty too—but her tongue was heavy and slow, and the words would not come.

“I’m sorry,” she said finally, lifting her eyes to Stefan’s angry stare. ”I can’t. Not right now.”

Stefan’s hands clenched into fists. “Fine. Go back to your friends and your noble lover and your precious City. Forget your family and your blood. But know this: No true child of the Kildi would go back.” He paused, turning from her. “Your father would be ashamed of you.”

Stefan stomped away. The crowd of Kildi who had been watching with silent faces melted back into the camp.

Nisha watched them go, feeling numb. She was unbearably tired, wrung out like a discarded dishrag.

Josei touched her shoulder. “I brought Tac with me. He will carry you back to your tent.”

The Combat Mistress turned to the crowding trees and gave a low whistle, the liquid call of a bird. One of the shadows solidified into the light-haired young man she’d last seen in the armory.

He’d been smiling then, eyes sparkling with mischief and effort, hair hanging in his eyes and mussed from their staff fight. Now his smile was gone and he looked … older.

He moved to Nisha’s side, lifting her without effort. Once she was in his arms, he looked at her intently, as if he were memorizing her face.

Nisha squirmed under Tac’s gaze. What must he think of her after all the things Stefan had said? Because it was true—she
was
turning her back on the only real family she had in the world. Nisha knew she had no choice, but would Tac understand that? Did he think her stupid for going back?

But there was no sign of condemnation on Tac’s face, and his grip was gentle. Nisha found herself relaxing into his strong arms and leaned her head against his chest.

Maybe tomorrow she could try to talk to her uncle again. Tomorrow.

Tac’s heartbeat pulsed evenly against her ear, a soothing sound that sent Nisha drifting into a soft, uneasy sleep.

When Nisha woke, the light behind the blue cotton of her tent was the dim, cold light of morning. Aishe, a grim set to her mouth, was bustling around the enclosed space, one eye on a pot of steaming soup. The old woman’s bent back was stiff, and she muttered as she wrestled with a bulging sack.

At Nisha’s first movement, Aishe straightened. “You are leaving us?” Her dark eyes were troubled.

“Yes,” Nisha said, regretting the words as they left her lips. Part of her still wanted to stay, to belong to these people who had loved her parents. “I have to.”

“I am sorry to hear this. But loyalty to one’s friends is a trait all Kildi value. I wish Stefan remembered that.” Her voice grew thick with frustration. “He sees only his hurt. My daughter, his heart-wife, could have helped you. But she went Beyond several years ago.” She tied off the top of the sack with several hard yanks.

“He has decreed that as soon as you leave, we are to break camp.”

Nisha swallowed the lump that rose in her throat. So her uncle was planning to leave again. “Does he always do this when he’s mad?” she asked, hurt turning to disbelief.

Aishe rolled her eyes. “He is a spoiled boy now, with no brother or wife to advise him. He runs from his hurt and pulls the rest of us with him.” She pushed the sack toward Nisha. “This is for you. Blankets and fabric. You are Kildi, and Aishe will not see you go with empty hands.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Nisha started, but something in Aishe’s even gaze held the words in her throat.

“You will take this,” the old woman said, in a tone so final that Nisha’s half-formed arguments died away. “It is your inheritance.”

At that moment Tac pulled back the tent flap and walked in on silent feet. His eyes, warm with sympathy, found hers. He smiled, and Nisha found herself smiling back.

Josei followed him.

“Is my uncle coming to say good-bye?” Nisha asked her. Maybe if he did, she could try to end things better, for now. Aishe understood her. Why couldn’t Stefan?