The gate is still partly open from when I left it earlier this evening. I heave a sigh of relief and dismount before leading Agni to her stall in the stable. “Anyone still awake?” I whisper.
You’ll see, the mare taunts, which means it could be anyone from ornery Cook, who always accuses the novices of stealing from her kitchen, to an angry Amira to Juhi herself.
I sigh, more out of resignation than nerves. Agni was right when she said that I am not supposed to be out tonight. Or any other night, really. Juhi does not trust me with the jobs she gives out to the other Sisters. They are the sort of magi who, unlike me, can cast fighting spells, who are able to wield death magic the way it should be: like a long, sharply gleaming sword instead of a stubby, rusty dagger.
“You are the most useless creature here,” Amira has told me countless times, and in my darkest moments, I can’t help but agree.
Agni nickers, sensing my thoughts in a way only she can. It will be all right, she assures me before shooing me from the stable. It’s a warm night, but I still feel the blue moon’s chilly, spectral glow. In the courtyard of the Sisterhood’s house, I see the shadow of someone waiting: a slender figure still wearing her dueling sari, flipping two daggers round and round. Up close, I know I’ll see her namesake—a kali or a flower bud—engraved in the pommels.
Kali. Only Kali.
Well, not only Kali. Kali is as capable of handing out punishments as Amira and Juhi, but she tends to give them out less often than they do.
“Out for a midnight rendezvous, are we?” she asks, having sensed my presence around the same time I spotted her.
I say nothing. Kali is capable of picking out my lies in an uncanny way, and these days she doesn’t even have to touch me for it.
“Come closer, my girl.”
I reluctantly do. Kali rises to her feet and circles me with a look that eviscerates from head to toe.
“Let’s see.” She sniffs the air. “You reek of sugar and horse and sweat—and not the kind that comes after a roll in the fields. You were at the moon festival in the city.”
It’s an obvious guess. If the moon festival in Ambarvadi is a firecracker, then the one in Javeribad is a doused lantern. None of the novices would break curfew for something like that. But the festival wasn’t the reason I was really out tonight, and the less Kali knows about that, the better.
“So what if I was?” Defensiveness can work sometimes—especially when coupled with round eyes and hurt looks. “So what if I wanted to get out of the house for once on my own in a whole blue moon? It’s not like you’d let me out if I asked.”
Kali’s face is still stern, but her mouth twitches, which means she’s at least considering my excuse. “You know you can’t go out by yourself. Not to the festival; especially not to Ambarvadi. Not only that—you are still not of age.”
“I will be of age soon,” I remind her. Right after the Month of Drought blurs into the Month of Tears. Eight more weeks. Sixteen years old.
“And neither Juhi nor I want you to be dead when that happens,” Kali says, her voice hard in a way that tells me there will be a punishment, no matter what I say.
“It’s not like I did anything!” I only got mistaken for picking pockets. I only kissed a boy. I only nearly got arrested.
“And I suppose those bruises on your wrist mean nothing, do they?”
I automatically glance down and, for the first time, notice the fingerprints on my left wrist, left by the merchant who accused me of stealing. My face grows hot. Of course Kali would notice. If I have the ears of a shadowlynx, Kali has the eyes of one, capable of seeing things in the dimmest of light.
“Show them to me.”
It’s not an order I dare refuse. I hold up my wrist while Kali examines the skin with gentle fingers. “What happened?”
“A merchant thought I was trying to steal from him. I wasn’t!” I insist when Kali raises an eyebrow. “I swear!”
Kali nods, accepting the truth she senses by touching me. “You’re lucky he didn’t break your bones or do further damage. You need to be careful, Gul. Remember what Juhi taught us?”
“No target is worth a Sister being seen. I remember that.” I withdraw my hand before Kali asks more questions and figures out the real reason I was in Ambarvadi. “But I’m not even a Sister, am I?” I flip over my hands, showing Kali my untattooed palms. “Juhi keeps saying I’m not ready.”
I’m unable to keep the envy out of my voice. At mealtimes, some of the Sisters occasionally boast about their exploits. Magically tying up zamindars who deceive farmers into signing over their land—and not releasing the former until the land is restored. Rescuing girls who get harassed by men in marketplaces. Standing up to women who beat their daughters-in-law.
The only real job Juhi has given me so far is picking pockets of rich merchants in Ambarvadi and leaving the stolen coin outside the gateway to the city tenements. And even then, I’m always supervised by another Sister.
A part of me knows I can’t exactly blame Juhi for this. Not with my poor performance at Yudhnatam, Juhi’s martial
