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Authors: Miriam Forster

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BOOK: City of a Thousand Dolls
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Rajni tugged her curls. “The girls are given the hair ornaments the year they are ready to be spoken for, on their sixteenth birthdays. It’s a reminder to them of beauty’s power and danger.”

“Beauty is serious business,” Nisha murmured.

“Exactly,” Rajni said. “The House of Combat is not the only House that teaches its girls to survive.”

Josei twisted the hair ornament, watching it flash in the light. “So this belonged to the dead girl? That will make things more difficult.”

Nisha noticed a sapphire sandal peeking out from the soft blue fabric. The stones matched the hair ornament exactly. Nisha imagined the dead girl’s graceful feet dancing about the room, the sapphires glowing as she moved.

“What was her name?” Nisha asked.

Rajni’s liquid brown eyes filled with tears. “Lashar,” she whispered. “Her name was Lashar.”

“Lashar,” Nisha repeated. She knelt beside the tangle of hair, brushing it away from the cold, still face. The girl’s light, clear eyes were wide and glazed over in death.

“The killer did it face-to-face this time,” Nisha said. “She looked into Lashar’s eyes and slashed her open.”

Josei muttered a curse. “This is no long-distance poisoning. This death was personal. Was this girl already spoken for?”

“Yes,” Rajni said. “She was to be an estate wife. She and the client had met a handful of times. He’s the son of a minor lord and wanted a good bedmate when he was home.”

Nisha grimaced. Wives without political power or connections were known as estate wives. They were kept in style at luxury country houses, entertained their husbands’ friends with lavish parties, and gave birth to heirs. Estate wives did not often visit the Imperial Court, leaving the husband free to gain power and status through carefully chosen flirtations and affairs.

With so many plots and intrigues around, no wonder the House of Beauty gave its girls daggers.

Something clicked in Nisha’s mind, falling into place with an almost audible snap. “Did you just say the client wanted a good bedmate?”

Rajni nodded, a puzzled frown creasing her golden skin.

Matron’s eyebrows went up in a flash of understanding. “Rajni, did Lashar ever receive training from the House of Pleasure?”

“Yes,” said Rajni. “She never went there—but one of the trainers came here.”

“Three girls dead, all connected to the House of Pleasure,” Josei said. “How interesting.”

Nisha rubbed the back of her neck, feeling the tension in her muscles. What possible reason could anyone at the House of Pleasure have to kill so many girls? She felt as if there was a thread here that she wasn’t seeing, a connection that would make all the pieces fit.

Maybe there was a clue in the note.

Nisha fingered the note in her pocket and peered around. The others were deep in conversation. No one was looking at her. Carefully, so as not to make noise, she unfolded the note. The edges of the thin paper were torn, and shaky black letters streamed across the page like drunken footprints. Nisha forgot about the paper—her eyes were drawn to the words.

You’re looking for me, but you’ll never find me. Come to the old quarry that lies to the south at Darkfall tomorrow. If you don’t show up, or if you tell anyone, I will kill again
.

And I’ve set a trap for your friend in the House of Flowers. If you find it first, you might save her life
.

Nisha crumpled the note, her mouth dry with fear.

Tanaya was in danger.

Nisha bolted past the House Mistresses, ignoring their startled looks. She raced down the stairs and straight out of the House of Beauty. Her heart was pounding, and the faces of the dead girls followed her.

Not Tanaya. Not her
.

She was darting up the front steps of the House of Flowers when she heard the scream.

No
.

Nisha flew up the wide main stairs and into Tanaya’s room. Tanaya stood on her couch, her eyes wide, one hand at her throat. On the carpet was a coiled reddish shape banded with white.

Nisha skidded to a stop. It was a blood krait, the most poisonous snake in the Empire. And Nisha was much too close to it.

Sensing movement, the snake turned its unblinking eyes on her. Its forked tongue flicked in and out, tasting the air for the new arrival. Then it hissed.

A whimper caught in Nisha’s throat. Blood kraits moved quicker than the eye could follow. There was no way she could get away in time.

Blunt head moving back and forth in a hypnotizing dance, the snake slid toward her. It was the length of her arm, and its scales slipped over the carpet with an obscene caressing sound. The slitted golden eyes pinned Nisha in place.

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. She could only watch her death slither closer—

A tawny-colored streak shot past her feet. With a cry of rage, Jerrit placed himself between Nisha and the snake.

“No!” Nisha jerked out of her trance. “Jerrit, don’t!”

The snake reared up with a vicious hiss. Long fangs like curved blades jutted from its open mouth. Jerrit hissed back, a sharp sound of pure fury. His back arched as he circled the snake. The snake lashed out and Jerrit danced away, dodging the lethal bite.

“Jerrit, no!” Nisha looked around for a weapon. Something. Anything. But Tanaya’s room was all soft pillows and heavy furniture.

Jerrit and the snake circled each other. Jerrit slashed at the snake with his claws, drawing a wound down the long slithery body. The snake’s hiss intensified, a deep, evil sound. Its head darted back and forth.

Then it struck.

The two rolled over in a blur of fur and scales. The snake’s fangs gleamed as it hissed and writhed. Jerrit twisted his body away, burying his teeth into the snake’s neck.

“Jerrit!” Nisha circled the hissing, yowling tangle. This couldn’t be happening.

Someone seized her wrist, and with surprising strength, Tanaya pulled Nisha up onto the couch.

“You can’t help him,” Tanaya yelled. “They’re too close!”

“Do you have your daggers?” Nisha asked. Tanaya shook her head.

With an effort, Jerrit tore the snake’s head from its neck and—as quickly as it had started—the battle was over. The cat stood over the twitching body of the snake. Blood matted his golden fur, and his legs trembled.

Nisha jumped off the couch. “Jerrit?”

Nisha
. The sending was ragged with pain.
Nisha, I have to tell you—

“No,” Nisha whispered, running her hands over his heaving sides. “Just rest, Jerrit. Don’t try to talk. You’ll be all right if you just rest.” Her hands came away streaked with red, and a sob built in her throat.

Nisha, you need to know …
Jerrit’s voice was growing weaker, fading from Nisha’s mind. Then he collapsed.

Nisha wanted to throw her head back and howl, but she couldn’t get the sound past her throat. “No,” she choked out. “No.”

“Oh, Nisha,” Tanaya whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

A dark rage like the heart of a flame flared up in Nisha’s chest. “Don’t be sorry! Because Jerrit isn’t going to die! Do you hear me?” she shouted, scooping up Jerrit’s barely breathing body. “I’m not letting you die!”

Cradling him, she ran out of the room and down the stairs.

A crowd of the spotted cats had gathered at the base of the steps. Nisha ran past.
Esmer, find a healer
, she sent.
We’ll be in the greenhouse
. She sensed wordless assent and worry as the cats saw the limp body in her arms and took off in all directions.

Nisha ran as carefully as she could. Jerrit’s body felt far too light in her hands, and his heartbeat tripped and dimmed with every step she took.

“Please,” she breathed like a prayer. “Please, please, please.”

Nisha stumbled into the greenhouse and almost burst into tears when she saw Sashi already standing there. The girl’s unseeing brown eyes were wide with shock, and a handful of growling cats led by Esmer guarded her front and back.

Nisha staggered up to her, shoving Jerrit’s still form into her hands.

“A snake bit him, a blood krait,” she gasped. “He needs help.” Her knees nearly buckled. “Please,” she whispered.

The shock left Sashi’s face, replaced by a look of intense concentration. She laid Jerrit on the workspace, her nimble fingers exploring his fur.

“No paralysis yet,” she murmured. “But his heartbeat is slowing.” She looked down, her face cold and set. “Nisha, stop sniveling. If you want me to save him, I need help. The poison’s working slowly. He only got scratched by the fangs. But he
will
die if we don’t hurry!”

Nisha scrambled to her feet. “What do you need?”

“Starflowers,” Sashi said, her hands still moving over Jerrit. “North corner, by the wall. We have to keep his heart going. Then I’ll need some water and some white willow bark—”

Sashi worked steadily, always calm. She poured a potion down Jerrit’s throat, then spread a green poultice over his wounds. Nisha could see several long gashes from the krait’s fangs, but no direct bites.

Time blurred, the hours feeling like minutes. Nisha ground herbs until her hands ached. She held Jerrit’s mouth open for the medicines and cradled him when he convulsed, each jerky movement stabbing through her like a knife. A few times he stopped breathing, and Sashi had to force air into his lungs, cupping her hand over his nose. Nisha’s eyes were blurry and hot, and every breath she took was a prayer to any ancestor or god who would listen.
Save him. Please help me save him
.

Finally, just before Darkfall, Jerrit’s breathing eased. Sashi raised her head, her face worn but triumphant. “The poison’s working its way out.”

Nisha felt herself go weak and leaned against the workbench. She put her face down on Jerrit’s damp fur, savoring the quiet pitch and heave of his breath.

“Thank you,” she said, but there was no answer. Sashi had already gone to a washbasin to rinse the blood and medicine off her hands.

I’ll let the others know
, Esmer sent, her words jagged with relief. The gray cat stopped pacing in the shadows and slipped outside.

Nisha ran a hand down Jerrit’s side. His heartbeat flickered against her palm, an echo of the blood pounding in her own ears. She’d almost lost him.

No more
, Nisha vowed to herself.
This ends now
. She would go to meet the killer, but she would go early. Wait. Hide. Watch. Maybe she could identify the killer, or even capture her.

But she
would
stop this.

23

NISHA LAID JERRIT in a soft bed of blankets in the warmest corner of the greenhouse, then went to get a clean robe. It wasn’t until she stepped behind the changing screen that she remembered.

Devan. In all the chaos of the day, she had forgotten to meet Devan.

Worry curled in Nisha’s chest. She’d never failed to meet him before. Would he be angry? The last thing she’d said to him was that she was scared, that being with him frightened her. What if he thought she didn’t care about him anymore?

Nisha swallowed the thought. If she just told him what had happened, Devan would understand. He knew how much the cats meant to her. All she had to do was explain.

If she ever got the chance.

As Nisha was reaching for one of the folded Jade asars, she noticed something odd. A crumpled green asar had fallen into one corner. Nisha picked it up. Spotting the front of the asar were dried dark streaks.

Esmer
, Nisha sent.
Come back inside and look at this
.

After a moment, the older cat slipped around the screen.
What is it?
She sniffed the asar.
Nisha, that’s blood
.

Are you sure?
Nisha asked.
I thought it might be ink
.

No, this time it’s definitely blood. The stains are too dry to know whose, but it’s human. Nothing else smells like that
.

Human blood. Nisha thought of the stain under Lashar’s dead body, and her hands started to shake. She almost threw the asar back into the corner.

It must be from healer training
, Nisha sent, but even as the words formed in her mind, she knew there were always servants on hand during healing procedures to take used asars away and wash them. The House of Jade was fanatical about cleanliness. Nisha had never seen a soiled asar abandoned in the corner like this. Someone must have thrown it there outside of supervised training.

But it didn’t mean that it was Sashi’s asar. There were other healer trainees here who used the greenhouse, even if none of them loved it the way Sashi did.

There was one way to know if the asar was Sashi’s or not, but Nisha needed to be cautious about it. Holding the asar away from her body, she walked over to the washbowl.

“Sashi, I found a dirty asar over here,” she said. “What would you like me to do with it?”

Sashi turned from the washbowl, her forehead furrowing in confusion. “A dirty asar? What’s on it? I can’t see what you’re pointing at, you know.”

Nisha forced her breathing not to change. “Looks like a bit of blood. Do you have a basket or something for these?”

“Blood?” Sashi stiffened, and swallowed hard. “Oh.” Her voice sounded forced, and she dried her hands with quick, hard swipes. “I’m afraid that asar is mine. I cut myself trimming some feverbush. I’ll take care of it.”

“Cut yourself? Here, let me see.” Nisha reached for Sashi’s hands, but the girl pulled back abruptly.

“I’m fine now. It was just a small cut.”

“There’s no such thing when you work with poisons. You should really let me have a look.”

“No!” Sashi put her hands behind her back. Nisha could see the pulse in her throat beating wildly, like a fluttering moth. “I mean … I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself.”

“I never said you couldn’t,” Nisha said. “But I don’t think you cut yourself, Sashi.”

The other girl took a deep breath. “All right, I lied. It’s my asar, but it’s not my blood. But I can’t tell you whose it is.”

“Why not?” Nisha asked. “Sashi, this is important.”

Sashi walked back to her bench and began to chop herbs. “I don’t understand why you’re pushing this, Nisha. It’s just a little blood. Let it go.”

BOOK: City of a Thousand Dolls
5.52Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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