Stunned as she was, Alizeh nearly forgot to curtsy.
Housekeepers, who ruled their own little kingdoms, were not considered servants and did not wear snodas; as a result, they were due a level of respect that Alizeh was still learning. She bobbed a curtsy, then straightened.
“Good afternoon, ma’am. How may I help you?”
Mrs. Sana said nothing, only held out a small purse, which Alizeh accepted in her injured hand. She felt the weight of the coin at once.
“Oh,” she breathed.
“Miss Huda was very pleased with the dress and would like to engage your services again.”
Alizeh went suddenly solid.
She dared not speak, dared not move for fear of ruining the moment. She tried to remember if she’d fallen asleep, if perhaps she was dreaming.
Mrs. Sana rapped her knuckles on the doorframe. “You’ve gone deaf, girl?”
Alizeh took a sharp breath. “No, ma’am,” she said quickly. “That is—yes, ma’am. I would— It would be my honor.”
Mrs. Sana sniffed at her, in a way that was becoming familiar. “Yes. I daresay it would be. And you’ll remember it the next time you speak ill of my mistress. She meant to send her maid, but I insisted on delivering the message myself. You understand my meaning.”
Alizeh lowered her eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Miss Huda will need at least four gowns for the upcoming festivities, and one showpiece for the ball.”
Alizeh’s head snapped up. She did not know to which upcoming festivities Mrs. Sana was referring, and she did not care. “Miss Huda wantsfivegowns?”
“Will that be a problem?”
Alizeh heard a roar in her ears, experienced a terrifying disorientation. She worried she might cry, and she did not think she’d forgive herself if she did. “No, ma’am,” she managed to say. “No problem at all.”
“Good. You may come to the house tomorrow at nine in the evening.” A heavy pause. “After you finish your shift here.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Thank you. Thank you for und—”
“Nine o’clock sharp, you understand?” And Mrs. Sana was gone, the door slamming shut behind her.
Alizeh could hold it in no longer. She slid to the floor and sobbed.
Nine
IN THE MILKY EYE OFthe moon the silhouettes of passersby merged into one gelatinous mass rumbling with sound; raucous cries rang out, laughter tearing through trees, lamplight flickering as people stumbled through the streets. The night was pure madness.
Alizeh suppressed a shudder.
It disturbed her always to be enveloped by the dark, for it brought to life a fear of blindness she could not fully rationalize. Her ancestors had once been sentenced to an existence without light or heat—she knew this, yes—but that she should carry the fearstillstruck her as most peculiar. Worse, it seemed her strange fate to be tethered always to the dark, for these days she moved most freely through the world only in the absence of daylight, when the yoke of duty had been removed.
Alizeh had emerged from Baz House long after the sun had been extinguished, and though the good news of more work for Miss Huda had done a great deal to buoy her spirits, Alizeh was burdened anew by the state of her hands. The day’s tasks had torn fresh wounds into her already split palms, and the strips of fabric she’d carefully wrapped around her injuries had grown damp and heavy with blood. Alizeh, who now needed to create five gowns in addition toperforming her regular duties, suddenly required her hands more than ever—which meant her journey to the apothecary could not wait until tomorrow.
It was on aching feet that Alizeh dredged through the evening’s snowfall, arms tight against her chest, chin tucked into her collar. Frost grew steadily along the wet tendrils of her hair, unruly strands whipping in the wind as she went.
Already Alizeh had paid a visit to the local hamam, where she’d washed the day’s filth from her body. She always felt better when she was clean, and though the task had cost her physically, she felt it ultimately worthwhile. More: the night air was bracing, and the cold shock to her uncovered head kept her thoughts focused. Alizeh required a sharpness of mind never more than when she walked the streets at night, for she knew well the dangers posed by desperate strangers in the dark. She was careful to remain quiet as she moved, keeping to the light, and to herself.
Still, it was impossible to ignore the uproar.
People were chanting in the streets, some singing, some yelling, all too drunk to be understood. There were large crowds dancing, all of them working together to hold aloft what appeared to be a scarecrow; the straw figure wearing a crude iron crown. Masses of people were sitting in the middle of the road smoking shisha and drinking tea, refusing to clear the streets even as horses whinnied, carriages teetered, and noblemen emerged from the plush interiors of their conveyances shouting and brandishing whips.
Alizeh walked through a cloud of apricot-flavored smoke, shook off an evening peddler, and pushed through a narrowgap in a group laughing uproariously at the story of a child who’d caught a snake in its hands and, delighted, had dipped the serpent’s head over and over again into a bowl of yogurt.
