Law of the Wolf Tower: The Claidi Journals Book 1 by Tanith Lee (black authors fiction txt) 📕

it. Daisy seemed to be in the same state, and a couple of the others. Dengwi and Pattoo not.

I had an embarrassing idea Daisy and I at least had got a thing about Nemian. Yes, I had, I was sure. My face had gone hot simply thinking of his name.

This was dismal, wasn’t it. I’d fallen for an outcast from Hell, who anyway they were going to kill. Besides which, he would never have glanced my pathetic way.

JL mooned over the bracelets and earrings. But gradually I could see the vagueness leaving her. The ickle girlie business. She had that snake-like air again. Not that I’ve anything against snakes – only the human ones.

‘Claidi,’ she said suddenly, very brisk and clear.

‘Yes, lady?’ I asked, my heart sinking even further. (Even with Nemian’s arrival to distract me, I hadn’t quite forgotten the professional beating.)

‘Thank you so much for viciously slapping my face and destroying that dreadful insect. It was an insect, was it?’ I attempted to seem bashful and pleased. ‘I never knew you were so loyal. I ought to reward you.’ She smiled brilliantly. ‘When I tell mummy tonight, I’m sure she’ll command her steward’s whip-master to tie an extra-pretty ribbon on the whip. Do you know about the whip, by the way?’ She bent closer. It didn’t seem to be happening really. But a glass case pushed at my back and reminded me of where the paperweight she threw had bruised me. ‘It’s got spikes on it,’ said LJL, triumphant. Ah, the whip had spikes.

She turned in her clumsy bulking way, and knocked a case, which shuddered. As I was shuddering.

The other girls looked glum. But some ladies had come tinkle-rustling in, loudly exclaiming that the enemy-invader had been imprisoned in the Black Marble Pavilion.

Daisy gasped. Then I did, because one of the ladies turned to me and snapped, ‘You, girl – Claidi-is-it?’ ‘Yes, madam.’ ‘Her Oldness, Jizania Tiger, wants you.’

Somehow I swallowed nothing the wrong way and choked. Pattoo thumped me on the back, luckily just clear of the bruise.

Dengwi guided me to the doorway. ‘Listen,’ she said, ‘I don’t know what the Old Lady wants, but everyone says she’s all right. Appeal to her mercy. You mustn’t be whipped. You do know, don’t you, Claidi? My sister was, and—’ Dengwi’s face was like smooth black steel, ‘she nearly died.’

I didn’t know what to say. (Had I ever heard Dengwi had a sister?) There wasn’t time anyway. A slave of the Old Lady’s was standing there, looking haughty and patient, because a slave of an Old Lady had more status than anyone’s maid.

My head was already whirling inside. So much was happening in my life where, as you know, for sixteen-ish years, nothing had happened at all.

THE LION IN THE CAGE

I’m staring up at the moon, which, ironically, is visible tonight. Again ironically, I keep hearing a piece of LJL’s terrible poetry: O moon, of liquid floating lemon-green—

In a way I feel sorry for her now. That’s no doubt pretty stupid of me. But she’s so hopeless. I mean, there really isn’t a shred of hope for her. She’ll always be like that, mean and spiteful and unjust and downright appalling. She isn’t happy. If she were happy she’d be different. Look at Lady Iris and Prince Eagle, and there are others. They’re kind to their servants.

There’s some lecture we were given, about the time I was polishing the floor where Nemian lay down so wonderfully and went to sleep. The lecturer told us hard work and suffering would fine our characters, make us better.

What a load of poo.

Anyway, here, at this very high up window, staring at the moon, the whirling in me and all of me trembling, and yet somehow serene – I can’t be angry at Jade Leaf.

But I feel weird about the other maids, especially Daisy and Pattoo. Because I won’t be able to say good-bye.

To get back to my story:

Jizania Tiger’s haughty slave took me along the glassy corridors (windows, burnished wood) and up marble stairs. We reached Her Apartment, and I found it was built up on a flat roof. There was a roof garden, with trees in pots, and a pool with a fountain and coloured fish.

The Old Lady was sitting in a room open to this garden.

She’d taken off her jewelled headdress, and I admired her well-shaped bald head. She truly is magnificent-looking. (But of course I have extra reasons to be impressed with her.)

‘Sit down,’ she said to me. ‘Are you hungry? Thirsty?’

Startled, I mumbled I wasn’t. Although my mouth was dry.

She seemed to know this, I suppose not too difficult. She had the slave pour me a glass of fruit juice, orange, I think, which we only ever had watered-down in the Maids’ Hall.

‘You have no notion,’ she said, ‘why you’re here.’

‘No, lady.’

‘It’s been a busy day so far,’ she said. She gave a short bark of laughter, like one of the Garden foxes. Then she said, ‘Jade Leaf is an unpleasant girl to serve, I should think. I intend to look into that. And no, I understand you can’t agree. But your life, Claidi, won’t have been much fun. Is that true?’

Amazing she knew my name. Amazing she’d singled me out.

I said, awkwardly, ‘Well, not really.’ I thought of Dengwi’s words, and blurted, not having meant to so soon, ‘I slapped Lady Jade Leaf’s face today. And she says I’m to be properly whipped. The whip with – spikes.’

Jizania Tiger slowly raised her exquisite eyebrows.

‘A slap? A whip with spikes? I don’t recall such a whip. I think there isn’t one.’

I was afraid for a moment. Dengwi knew there was.

Then Jizania added, ‘However, just in case, perhaps we had better think of an alternative to the whipping.’

I blurted again ‘Thank you, thank you’. I knew well enough Jizania had power in the House. If she promised it, I’d be safe. At least for now, which always seems all you can ever hope for.

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