Free City of a Thousand Dolls by Miriam Forster

vanished and Chandra froze, quivering on the steps. Her eyes were huge and hunted. Then, head down, she hurried past Nisha and into the building.
    “You see?” Kalia said, her voice conversational, when Chandra had disappeared. “She’s far too timid for my liking. But you”—and with the speed of a snake strike, the Mistress of Order seized Nisha’s arm, her eyes glittering—“you’re different.”
    Nisha willed herself not to jerk away. Kalia’s fingers dug into her arm, sending sparks of pain from her elbow to her fingertips. Jerrit hissed. His ears lay flat against his head.
    Let me scratch her. Please .
    No , Nisha sent. If I do anything that could be interpreted as defiance, she could punish me. I can’t go through that again .
    “Kalia.” Josei, the Mistress of Combat, materialized out of nowhere. Her dark, red-brown hair was pulled back from her forehead, and her fingers twitched on the leather-wrapped hilt of her short sword. “Is there a problem here?” she asked, quietly but clearly.
    Kalia dropped Nisha’s arm. “No problem, Josei. Nisha and I were just discussing her future.”
    Josei didn’t look at Nisha when she said, “I do not think Nisha’s future is any of your concern. You are needed in the Council House.”
    “Of course.” Kalia gave a tight smile, then turned to Nisha. “If you have work to do, go do it. You don’t belong out here.”
    Without waiting to thank Josei, Nisha hurried away and spit to try and get rid of the helpless, sour tang that coated her tongue. She felt like a trap was closing around her, tighter every day.
    I have to escape. Soon, or I’ll be wearing bronze cuffs by dinner tomorrow .
    Her wrists ached to think about it.
    The House of Beauty girls were just sitting down to the lunchtime meal when Nisha slipped in. House Mistress Rajni was deep in conversation with someone, and Nisha didn’t want to interrupt. Instead she pressed herself against one wall of the large dining room and watched the girls.
    The novices sat in two long rows on either side of the table, and from a distance, they all looked curiously alike. Smiles showed straight teeth, careful nods accented dark hair that shone like candlelight on water, hands gestured with slender brown fingers.
    Even the ritual of eating lunch looked like a dance as the girls delicately placed paper-thin chicken slices, fine-grained basil rice, and mangoes that had been cut into the shapes of flower petals into their perfectly painted mouths.
    Nisha fought the urge to roll her eyes. Instead she listened carefully to the flow of words, the way Matron had taught her.
    I found the perfect shade of sorrel paint for the tree branches on my fan. It will show up wonderfully against the ivory .
    No, you have to put the bellflower stems in the middle. They droop too much if you put them on the side of the arrangement .
    I’m supposed to serve tea to the Council tomorrow. I’m so nervous. What if I spill? You know the tea ceremony is supposed to be perfect .
    Nisha focused in on the nervous girl, looking for undercurrents that might mean she was growing restless or discontented. But the girl didn’t seem resentful, only anxious, so Nisha moved her attention back to the room at large. Most of the girls were talking about clothes.
    What asar will you choose for the masquerade?
    Deep blue silk with a pattern of white geese in flight. And I’m wearing milkstones in my hair .
    I have a new asar, this gorgeous cream color with dark-blue and yellow embroidery and an edging of gentian flowers. They stand for sparkling conversation, you know. And the man who is speaking for me sent me a necklace to wear. Silver with topaz stones. I’ll have to show it to you .
    You’re lucky. I have no idea who might speak for me yet .
    But that just makes it more exciting! Think of all the handsome noblemen who will be there!
    The conversation dissolved into giggles and whispers, and Nisha moved on.
    The Beauty girls might sound frivolous, but