Rahim beamed at us as we entered—Fox and I and also Likh. “Ah, my little uchenik and her brother! What will it be for you today? Does Parminchka require a new frock? Or do you allow me to design you an original hua for the day you make your debut? It is never too late to start too early.”
I had been to Rahim’s establishment many times since that first meeting, but it was easy to feel intimidated by the man’s affectionate demeanor and his booming voice. “Actually, I was wondering if you could design something for my friend here.”
“Your brother? Yes, we can make more than hua here. The dark and somber colors he wears will not do. He shall have the most appealing of red, scarlet like a woman’s lips, so that the ladies they are encouraged to use theirs on—”
“It isn’t for Fox,” I interrupted while my brother grinned. “It’s for Likh.”
“Likh? Ah, you wish to splurge? I will give you the bargains, because Chesh has been so kind to me. The best sherminas for you, the—”
“We don’t want a shermina. We’d like a hua for him.”
Rahim looked at us. He stroked his massive beard. “A hua? But why so?”
“We—we were hoping you could make something for Likh for the darashi oyun, when the gates open for those who would like to dance before the asha’s performance.”
“Well,” the man said. “Well, well, well.”
He took a step back and gestured at us to follow him into a smaller room, away from the bustle of activity taking place outside. Nervously, we sat down on a few chairs he pulled out for us. Rahim perched on a tall stool and stared at Likh.
“You do understand,” he said slowly, his Tresean accent less pronounced, “that some asha consider this an affront, a joke made in poor taste. The association of elders surely will.”
“And that’s why I was hoping you could make it,” I said eagerly. “Everyone knows you would never make a hua just for the jest of it. Then perhaps they will take him seriously when he dances.”
“The elders would censure lesser-known ateliers for this. Even with my influence, they may still do so. What makes you think I am willing to take such chances?”
“Because you have taken such risks before,” Likh said softly. “Chesh told me your story, of when you first arrived at Kion. You were a refugee fleeing from a place that punished people like us. When you opened your own workshop, people looked at you and laughed and said a bear could not possibly know how to hold a needle, much less sew. You ignored them because you knew you could do better than the clothes they made, the designs they created. You set up shop along the smelting district because that was the only place you could afford. But you were brilliant. Everything you made was a work of art, and people noticed. You made a living by not compromising who you are. I…I want to do the same—to prove to people that I can and to prove to myself that I can.”
Rahim sighed, a rumbling sound.
“That is a pretty speech. But there is a difference between a bear who wants to sew clothes like an atelier and a boy who wishes to dance like a girl, and the difference is there are no traditions that says a bear cannot sew.”
Likh’s shoulder slumped.
“I’m the last person in this room to know anything about asha tradition,” Fox said quietly, “but I believe there’s nothing that explicitly prevents Likh from dancing either. Tea and I read all the books we could find about asha conduct.”
Rahim thought it over. “Likh, dance.”
The boy’s head shot up. “What?”
“I want you to dance. Show me what I am staking my reputation for.” The man gestured at a spot at the center of the room. “Go on. Here is as good a place to perform as any. Do you know the songs the asha play?”
“I know about a hundred in their repertoire.”
“Really?” I hadn’t known that either.
Rahim grinned. “Your dedication is admirable, but so must your dancing be. Begin whenever you feel ready.”
I recognized the dance Likh started with—a complicated piece called “Good-bye,” about a woman from Drycht to be executed for dishonoring her family when she fled with a disreputable lover. It was a popular song used as propaganda against that kingdom in the olden days, though few people nowadays think of it as anything more than a tragic ballad. I was stunned. There was a heaviness to Likh’s body, a weariness that translated beautifully into his movements, and I could almost imagine him as a woman who was putting everything she had into one final dance, a heartbreaking eulogy.
“That was excellent, Likh,” Fox said when he’d finished. My brother wore an expression close to amazement on his face.
The image of that solemn, weeping woman disappeared, and Likh was back, fidgeting and nervous. “Was that OK? I’m told it’s difficult to do well—”
“It is a dance that must be as successful at conveying emotion as it is with performing its intricate steps,” Rahim said. “And a dance where the latter means nothing if you cannot accomplish the former. It looks like I have no choice but to design a hua for you.”
He closed the distance between them and clapped both hands on Likh’s shoulders. The boy staggered. “Agata and Patel must know, of course, but the others will gossip and the word will spread, and so everyone else must be kept in the dark. I shall say it is a fine hua commissioned by a connoisseur from Yadosha, and no one shall be any wiser. We will arrange the bustline like this so that you will give the impression of breasts, and then alter the hips so that you can sway and fill out like a woman. Green and lavender! Your skin is light enough for winter but not too coarse for summer fashion. And ravens! A motif of ravens to suggest your hair. Agata! Patel! Come and measure!”
“Don’t worry,” I called out to Likh as Rahim dragged the poor boy out of the room. “This is part of being an asha too!”
• • •
During the days that Likh was being subjected to Rahim’s enthusiasm for hua, I was not without my own tribulations. My dance lessons proceeded as normal, but Lady Hami had decreed that I could now rise up one tier in my combat training. Now, no longer content to have me jump through obstacles and swing my way through bars, she made me swim underwater with weights attached to my feet, got me to claw my way through swamp underneath streams of Fire other asha shot out in my direction, and had me face off against several opponents at once. Other apprentices simply parted the waters so they could walk or hardened the earth underneath them to avoid the mud or used Wind as a shield to prevent their opponents from attacking. I had no such weapons at my disposal.
Mistress Parmina had also decided that it was time for me to start attending parties with Lady Shadi, and this I looked forward to.
The night I was due to make my first appearance, Rahim and Chesh arrived at the Valerian to help me prepare. Rahim told me rather gleefully that he had just made his first hua for Likh and was pleased with how things were progressing. “Guaranteed, no one will look at him and see a boy,” he promised me.
“I’m still not sure how the elders are going to react,” Chesh fretted. Likh had felt compelled to inform his guardian about his plans, and she harbored some understandable misgivings.
“Our little uchenik’s brother is correct when he says it is not against the rules for Likh to dance,” Rahim pointed out. “I do not think your charge will last very long with Deathseeker training. This may be his best hope.”
“The worst we can do is fail,” Fox pointed out. “They’d still force Likh to join the Deathseekers. I don’t think they’re going to sanction either of you, and I don’t really care what they decide to do with me—the most they can do is send me back to the grave, which isn’t much of a threat. It’s Tea I’m worried about.”
“I don’t think they’re going to punish me,” I said slowly. “They’ll stick chores on me, humiliate me a little—but I don’t think they’ll expel me. They think I’m too important for that.”
Chesh glanced at me and smiled faintly. “I also think you’re smarter than they give you credit for.”
The hua was of a modest design—tiny butterflies climbed up its sides, white against a cornflower-blue background interspersed with small lilies. Rahim showed me how to tuck the waist wrap around me to prevent any folds and ungainly creases in the robe. A small elegance spell made from some of the vials prepared for me by the Dawnseed apothecary had been woven in, but try as I might, I could not detect their magic—only a faint sense of them but nothing else.
“Of course,” Rahim snorted when I asked, “they would not be worth their price if anyone could!”
Chesh showed me the kinds of hairpins and combs that went well with the dress. Tonight I wore a tortoiseshell comb adorned with tiny diamonds that would help inspire gaiety and a hairpin with white flutters and an aquamarine gem set on top, which has a soothing spell. As always, I wore my crescent pin. Then she began to paint my face, showing me how to use my color sticks and pigments to properly contour my face.
“I think you’re ready,” she said, stepping back.
I glanced at the mirror and my mouth fell open. I looked amazing!
“We didn’t come here to help you prepare and expect different results, child,” Chesh laughed. “You’d best get going. We wouldn’t want you to be late!”
They waved at Lady Shadi, Fox, and I as we left the house. This time, other apprentices hurrying past stopped to bow to me as well as to Lady Shadi, and I felt very grown-up in my new outfit. Unlike that night at the Falling Leaf, my hua fit me perfectly.
The cha-khana was looking better than when I saw it last. Parts of the garden that had caved in during the undead rodents’ rampage had been fully restored, and some of the rooms gleamed, shiny in their repaired newness. I still could not quite get over the guilt that I felt for destroying it in the first place, but Mistress Peg was most forgiving. In fact, she was ecstatic.
“We’re booked solid until winter,” she informed me, nearly giddy in her joy. She pressed something into my hands—it was a small envelope customarily used for giving tips. I had never heard of a tearoom mistress handing one out to an asha before a party began. I started to protest.
“Mistress Peg, surely I can’t—”
“Don’t think about it,” she assured me, still all smiles. “Here’s one for you too, Lady Shadi, for all the help you have given Lady Tea here. Now hurry up. Your guests are waiting for you.”
I didn’t know what to do, but Lady Shadi tucked the envelope inside her waist wrap and bowed, and so I did the same.“Good luck,” Fox said to us before resuming his post outside the tearoom.
Mistress Peg led me to the exact same room where Zoya had made me entertain Prince Kance and his friends all those months ago, and I was sure she could hear how hard my heart was pounding.
When she slid the door back, I was almost disappointed. Prince Kance was not inside the room. But Kalen was. With him were other boys his age, also clad in the black he was so fond of wearing. To my chagrin, Zoya was also present, and two of her friends—Yonca and Brijette, I remembered.
“If it isn’t the Valerian girls!” one of the boys hooted, rising to his feet and extending both hands to us with a large grin. He was tall and muscular, built for a fight. “And it’s the Dark asha too! Come join us, pretty ladies. We don’t bite!”
That set off a chain of laughter among the rest, and for an instant, I thought about fleeing. I knew the necessary etiquette when it came to dealing with people, but as Mistress Parmina had pointed out already, the theory paled when it came to practice. To my relief, Lady Shadi took charge.
“Don’t tease her, Ostry,” she scolded him. “This is her first party, and we should be making her feel at home. Come sit between me and Kalen, Tea, and I’ll introduce you to the boys. You’ve already met the duke, haven’t you?”
“The duke?”
Kalen shrugged, still glaring at me; he had not displayed such hostility before. He addressed Lady Shadi instead and did not look back in my direction. “I never told her. We’re not in the immediate line for the crown, so we tend to be glossed over in your history lessons.”
“Kalen is the son of a duke,” Ostry said. “The Duke of Holsrath to be more specific—King Telemaine’s own brother.” He scratched at his unruly red hair. “Unfortunately, the rest of us come from humbler origins. I am Ostry of Mireth. My father runs a pig farm there, so perhaps you can refer to me as the Duke of Hog.”
“Ignore their idiocy,” Lady Shadi said, but she was smiling. “They leave Kion tomorrow, so they’re trying their best to get drunk before then.”
“Idiocy? Lady Shadi, you slay me.” One of the boys grabbed at his heartsglass in mock pain.
“You’re all leaving tomorrow?”
“Except Kalen, that lucky bastard. He’s manning the fort here while we go chase after daeva,” Ostry said, gulping down his drink. “And who better to hunt it down than a roomful of Deathseekers? But I’d much rather be here, drinking on Empress Alyx’s tab and being entertained by pretty ladies.”
“Not the best attitude to have before leaving to fight daeva,” Kalen said with stiff disapproval.
“Oh, lighten up, Your Lordship. We’ve got one last night. Where’s the attendant? We need some of those alut they like so much in Yadosha. This wine is not doing much to get me drunk quickly enough.”
“Aren’t you one of Tea’s friends?” another man asked Zoya. “You were together when that accident here happened, right?”
“I suppose so.”
“‘I suppose so’? That’s an odd answer. Are you or aren’t you?”
“Little Tea here has friends who think shielding her from all sorts of harm is the best way to teach her how to be an asha. I don’t believe in such nonsense. If she wants to tread the waters of the Willows, then the best way to teach is to throw her into the river. There is no better way to learn to swim than when you are struggling to keep your head above water.”
“That’s a harsh way of putting things, Lady Zoya.”
“Isn’t being a Deathseeker the same way? And yet you do not mind.”
“I suppose it pains me to see beautiful women placed in such difficult situations.”
“We are not paper flowers that easily rend and tear in the wind, Alsron.”
“You must try to be nicer to Tea, Zoya,” Lady Shadi chided.
“That’s none of your concern, Shadi.” Zoya flashed me an artificial smile. “Some wine, Lord Alsron?”
Lord Alsron did want some wine, as did most of the others. Yonca pulled back the door to summon a passing attendant.
“Would you like me to refill your bowl, Your Highness?” I asked Kalen.
“No, thank you.” Kalen only looked irritated.
“Now that we have the celebrated asha apprentice in our midst,” Ostry continued, and I felt embarrassed when all eyes turned to me again. “We must know—what did happen at the Falling Leaf that night? We deserve a firsthand account, don’t you think?”
“Zoya was there,” Kalen said. “She could probably tell it better.”
“But she has! Now we want the story from the girl herself!” A chorus of agreement met Ostry’s words. “Well, Lady Tea?”
I decided not to delay what was inevitable. I cleared my throat. “I don’t understand it myself. Everything happened so quickly that it’s hard to know where to begin.”
“How did you come to be at the Falling Leaf in the first place?” someone interrupted. “Lady Zoya says that you’d snuck into their party without anyone knowing.”
Instructor Kaa taught me several breathing techniques to control my temper. I employed one of them because the alternative was to rise to my feet and attempt to strangle Zoya. “I was an idiot. I was barely a novice, and I didn’t know the rules. I worked at the Valerian as a servant far longer than most apprentices had, and I found the rules constricting. I’m sure you know Mistress Parmina. She is a hard taskmaster.”
“We’ve had the misfortune,” Ostry said, and the room roared.
“She’s not as bad as you think,” I said once the laughter died down. “She likes a clean house though and was always sending me out on errands. One night, I was determined to see how asha worked in the evenings—I wanted to see if all my hard work would be worth being an asha. So I did sneak out. I still feel guilty, thinking about it now.”
“Don’t be,” a boy they called Mavren said. “We’ve all done that—playing truant and sneaking out into the city when the master of arms isn’t looking.”
“Lady Zoya, Lady Yonca, and Lady Brijette here were at that party—it was in this very room, in fact! Sir Kalen should remember; he was here with Prince Kance and the Princess of Arhen-Kosho.” I smiled at Zoya. “Lady Zoya was kind enough to let me join them. There were too many guests about, and she knew I would be caught if I snuck back out on my own. They lent me a hua and made me up to look like an asha.”
I saw the asha trade looks with her friends, but no one else noticed.
“But then something happened—”
“It was a seeking stone, wasn’t it?” Alsron broke in. “We’d spent hours searching for it in all the rubble. It was Lady Mykaela who found it underneath the floorboards.”
“I felt sick,” I continued. “Dizzy. It was shortly after Lady Zoya danced for us. I remember someone asking me what was wrong, but I couldn’t respond. And then something in my head burst”—I made a gesture—“and before I knew it, there were dead rats streaming in through one of the walls and a skeleton climbing out of a hole in the ground! Prince Kance yanked me on top of one of the tables, and I must have passed out shortly after—”
“And what a sight to see that was,” Brijette countered. “The Prince of Odalia, holding you up by the legs like that! Why, we could see your shift—”
“Impossible,” Lady Shadi said firmly. “Our waist wraps hold our robes securely in place. Was Tea’s waist wrap dislodged in any way?”
“Well, er—yes,” the asha floundered. “I suppose so—”
“I was there, as was pointed out,” Kalen said, “and excepting the fact that she was unconscious, there was nothing wrong with the girl’s clothes.”
Zoya gave her friend a warning look.
“I must have been mistaken,” Brijette withdrew. “It was so hard to keep track of all that was going on.”
“But what happened next?” Ostry demanded.
“Prince Kance lifted Tea onto the table,” Zoya said, “and we got to work trying to stave off as many of those rodents as we could. The skeleton was easier—it was Prince Kance’s own ancestor, imagine that!—but it was a difficult job; we were worried we might accidentally burn down the tearoom if we drew in Fire, and the ground was beginning to cave in. And little miss asha-in-training here slept through it all with a smile on her face!”
“I think you asha exaggerate many parts of the story,” Alsron said, already drunker than the rest. “The length of leg you can display while wearing the standard hua, for instance. I am more interested in investigating that matter further. What if Lady Brijette was right and it is possible to see one’s shift despite the waist wrap?”
Lady Shadi rose demurely to her feet. She tugged lightly at her waist wrap, gathering the cloth from underneath that kept it securely in place, and then lifted her dress to display a pretty ankle. “See how difficult it is just to show you men that much?”
Every male eye in the room was immediately drawn to her. Brijette and Yonca eyed her with thinly disguised scorn, but for a few beats, Zoya’s heartsglass pulsed a deep scarlet.
This was a new side to Lady Shadi that I had never seen before. There was a reason, I realized, why she was popular—and very clever. My story was quickly forgotten.
“Let’s make that a challenge!” Ostry proposed, taking another swig of his drink. “How about we play a round of worm-frog-snake and test Lady Shadi’s claims?”
A round of approval met his words, and I watched, a little bemused, as Ostry started off against the asha, the other boys yelling out, “Worm! Frog! Snake!” in the background like they were eight-year-olds in a schoolyard. Worm beat frog, and soon Ostry was shucking off his shirt amid catcalls. They tried again, but Lady Shadi was either skilled or very lucky, and soon Ostry had to take off his belt. “I surrender,” he said. “I respect Lady Shadi’s skill too much to be losing my pants over it!”
Fortunately, the wine ran out, and since none of the attendants were in sight, I elected, being the most junior of the asha present, to run out and get more. Relieved, I slipped out of the room, pausing at the gardens to gather myself. The Falling Leaf had made some improvements; two more statues were added to that of Anahita’s, this time of Dancing Wind and another Great Hero, Ashi the Swift. I paused for a moment to stare up at the three, taking in the crisp night air to calm myself.
There was a movement to my left, and I saw a dark figure emerge from the gardens. It was clad in black, and its face was obscured by a heavy mask.
We stared at each other. I swore I could feel a presence settle in the corner of my mind that wasn’t Fox—odd feelings of caution and expectation as it tested for a way in, and a telltale trail of annoyance at finding the entrance blocked. The Heartforger’s stone felt hot against my chest.
Without looking away, I bent down and picked up a small garden shovel that had been carefully set behind a large quarry stone.
It fled, and I followed without thinking.
The figure barreled through the carefully trimmed bushes and out the cha-khana’s gates. It moved quickly, but I kept pace behind it, thankful for once for Lady Hami and her leg weights.
“Tea!” I heard my brother call out from somewhere behind me, heard him chasing after me, but I did not stop.
I should go back, I thought.
But another part of me, irritated and annoyed by all the restrictions being placed on my daily life, shrugged off the suggestion and ran faster. I raced into a dark alley, and I felt a surge of exultation upon realizing it was a dead end, with nothing there to hide behind. The figure had stopped, standing motionless before the blank wall. A small lantern hung overhead, and I saw it had no shadow.
“Who are you?” I shouted.
It turned to face me. With deliberate slowness, it reached up and pulled the veil off its head.
What stared back at me was a skeleton, bleached and polished so that no trace of flesh remained. The gaping mouth grinned malice at me; from within the depths of those empty eye sockets, something glinted. The skeleton gave me no time to recover but lunged at me, moving faster in the fifty yards that separated us than it had when I chased it.
My training took over, and I dove to the ground as its bony fingers swiped past, missing me by a few inches. Still on my knees, I swung with the shovel and felt it connect. The skeleton’s legs gave out underneath it, knocking one knee joint loose as it tried to maintain its balance. It lifted its hand again, and I saw its fingers against the moonlight, the bones on each end honed and sharpened like knives.
And then Fox’s sword cleaved the skeleton’s hand, cutting it off at the wrist. The fingers hit the ground with a disturbing rattle, but Fox did not stop, angling his sword so that his next stroke took its head cleanly off its shoulders. The rest of the body disintegrated before his blade could complete its arc, the skeleton’s ashes sending small clouds of dust around us.
“What in a daeva’s teeth is that?” Fox demanded, staring at the skull’s remains.
“This is what’s been following us!” I scrambled to my feet, kicking at the discarded veil and black robes and feeling sick. “I knew it wasn’t human, but I wasn’t expecting this!”
There was no one else in the alley. Fox insisted on checking, but the street we stood on was deserted.
“We’ll have to tell Lady Mykaela when she returns,” he said grimly.
“Only after she returns,” I agreed quickly, “and no one else.” I could only imagine the restrictions Mistress Parmina would place on me if she knew.
“This is more serious than I thought, Tea.”
“I know.” There was someone else in Ankyo who could channel the Dark. And whoever it was, was after me.
• • •
“I’m sorry I’m late,” I apologized as the door slid open. Faint traces of laughter wafting out told me that the party was still in full progress, that I had not been missed. Fox had already slipped away, still intent on searching the neighborhood for the skeleton’s summoner.
Kalen stepped out through the door and took the heavy tray of drinks out of my hands.
“Thank you, milord. Was there anything else you wanted me to—”
“Stay away from Kance, asha.”
The air felt colder, a strong chilly wind sweeping through the gardens unannounced.
“I—I don’t know what you—”
“Stay away from him, Tea. And if you do not, then I will make sure you do.” He stepped back inside, and the door slid shut.
I remained there a little longer, until Mistress Peg found me. It wouldn’t do to keep my guests waiting, she scolded, and I would have all the time to rest when the party had ended and my visitors had gone home. I nodded dumbly, barely listening. Kalen disliked me—because I was a danger to the prince or because he disliked bone witches? And after tonight, I couldn’t even say he was wrong.
I slipped in quietly and resumed my seat. For the rest of the evening, Kalen said nothing, though his silver heartsglass pulsed red.