I stared, dumbfounded, back at Mistress Parmina.
“We shall need to leave in an hour’s time, Rahim milaya. We have an appointment with Chesh.”
Rahim beamed. “Excellent! She will pair her zivars nicely with my hua. Agata! Take down the blue swatches from the inner room and bring them here. Pavel, take the green and purple from Anabel.” He spun me around like I was a wooden ballerina doll and deftly wrapped my waist around a bolt of silver cloth before I had time to react. “See there, little apprentice? You look lovely in silver.”
I stared at the mirror, at my image with the beautiful and expensive fabrics wrapped around me. I’m not going to be punished, I thought numbly. Or is being an asha apprentice to be my punishment?
“And the purple drapes nicely here!” Rahim thrust a piece of paper under my nose. It had a rough but stunning sketch of a purple and bright-gold sunset overlooking a gray sea. “I had been saving this up for a special occasion, and you will be it. We will show you to the world in this two months from now. Isn’t that lovely? Now where are my girls with the cloths? Agata! Pavel! You there—you look like you have nice muscles for carrying. Come with me!”
He bustled off, dragging a confused Fox off with him. I looked away from the mirror and met Mistress Parmina’s steady gaze.
“Yes, Tea,” she said calmly. “I could have punished you and turned you out with nothing but the clothes on your back and your tail between your legs. You have caused more chaos among the asha-ka than has been seen in my lifetime, and that is a very long time indeed. But if there is one thing I will forgive for the mess you have made, no matter how indirectly your responsibility in it lies, it is that you are the strongest asha I have seen in recent times, and I will not have you loose on the population outside these walls, where you are likely to wreak even more havoc. You are strong in the Dark; I think that is punishment enough, as you will learn in your own time. What matters now is that you must be taught as soon as possible, so that the Dark will not have the better of you. Mykaela is rather fond of you, and I owe her that much at least. Do we understand each other, Tea?”
“You made my life difficult,” I said.
The old woman burst into laughter again. “If you think running errands and doing chores are difficult, child, then you are not ready to be an asha. But for all the indignities I heaped on you, you have held your head and done what was expected of you. And after your accident, I no longer see any reason to delay.” She drained the contents of her goblet. “You must, of course, earn your keep well. You will have to pay back the costs of these hua after you make your debut. It is the only proper thing to do.”
I am going to be an asha. I am going to be an asha.
“Yes,” I said weakly as Rahim and Fox returned, armed to the teeth with fabrics. The huge man looked triumphant, and Fox resigned. “It’s only proper.”
It took me two days to grow accustomed to the monster that roamed outside. Two days to be convinced that it would not come and eat me while I slept. The girl refused to answer any more questions about the beast’s purpose in between tales about her hints of war. I tossed and turned in my sleep; every time I dreamed, I saw the blue moon looking down on me, blinding me with its brightness, and I woke up sweating.
“You’re aware of the circumstances of my exile,” she said to me while the daeva dozed outside, unaffected by the hot sun baking down overhead. “You wouldn’t have sought me out otherwise.”
“I know that they accused you of conspiracy and of treason.”
“They accused me of many things. Of killing a king and an asha. Of being one of the Faceless. Of betraying the kingdoms. But I am only guilty of one of those.”
“But was it wrong for them to believe you capable of these things?”
“That is not quite true; I am more than capable.” She smiled wryly. “But the last time I tried to explain myself, I was cast out and banished for my troubles. I will let them sort out what I did and did not do when this is all over. My work is not yet complete.”
She showed me her collection of tiny bottles, all glass and different colors. It was a curious luxury, given her surroundings, but she disagreed. “This is our beauty secret,” she laughed and picked up a small vial that held a red liquid. She pressed the tip of her finger against the opening and upended the bottle, so that the liquid inside coated the skin but prevented more from spilling out. She dabbed her finger against the sides of her neck. I caught a whiff of jasmine and flowers.
“These are my potions,” she explained, selecting another bottle that contained a thick, yellow concoction. “The cheapest of these spells are sold in the market commons all around the world. The more expensive spells are those that cater to each specific individual, made to draw out their strengths and hide their weaknesses. I have a blunt personality, more likely to say what I mean instead of sparing someone’s feelings. This will not temper my words, but it will help those who listen to me accept them with lesser offense. Of course, if one is strong in the magic themselves, this may not work on them. Or one might wear another spell that cancels out this magic. You cannot put on too many of the stronger spells all at once, for they muddle together and make themselves ineffective. Choosing which spells to wear is like playing a game, except you are forced to decide your moves without knowing what your opponent might bring to the fight.”
She selected a color stick next and gently daubed her cheekbones with it. “This is more for me than for show,” she admitted to me. “It keeps my strength up.” The rest she left on the table, and she drew the divider back to hide them once more from view. “I don’t wear them as much as I used to. Nowadays it’s easier to face people as myself instead of looking through a mask.” She looked around and added wryly, “Though the amount of visitors in the three months I have been here leave something to be desired.”
She turned back to me, and the changes became apparent. She looked softer somehow, more graceful as she stood. Her dainty feet moved over the uneven ground, and she lifted the hem of her dress to step over the threshold that separated the cave from the rest of the sandy shore. The stained, muddied fabric only further highlighted to me the difference between who she once was and the sympathetic state she was now in. She walked with her head bowed, and I admired the way she carried herself—even in exile, she remained dignified.