Sloan eased open the door and slipped into the Vixen. Or, rather, tried to slip in. She had taken no more than a step through the door before a strong hand grabbed her by the shoulder and dragged her the rest of the way. She bit off her startled cry when she found herself face to face with a livid Matron.

 

“Foolish child,” Kira hissed. “Where is the knife?”

 

“The…” It was the only word that made it through the convoluted tangle of shocked emotions and thought that fought for jurisprudence over her obstructed mind. The knife? How could the Matron know about the knife? What had happened to it, anyway? After watching the light die out in Grelod’s eyes, everything had become a blur. Had she left it in the hag’s body? Was she still holding it when she left? When she had fallen into the canal? And how did the Matron know about any of…

 

Kira let out a snort and her eyes lifted from Sloan’s to the doorway. There was a quick tilt of the head, so minute Sloan wasn’t sure if she had imagined it, before she pulled Sloan to the side while calling out, “Mishi!”

 

Another woman appeared, to Sloan’s startled eyes as if from thin air.

 

“J’ee, d’ì niæka lù.” The woman’s voice was calm, the language unfamiliar, as was the one with which the Matron replied.

 

“Aw yawːsùù yì pùù.”

 

The new woman took Sloan’s other arm in a grip like a clamp as the Matron let go.

 

Words had finally formed a semblance of order in Sloan’s mind and queued up to pour outward. She took a breath. “What…” she began, but the new woman stemmed the flow with a sharp squeeze of her hand and the words truncated to a yelp.

 

The woman tilted her head at the Matron. “J’ashaw?”

 

Whatever the question meant, it gave the Matron pause. Sloan stopped struggling to talk and stood straighter as Kira’s gaze pierced her, seemed to find her soul and bare it in a blink.

 

A moment later, Kira’s gaze shifted away and Sloan just kept herself from collapsing in relief.

 

“Ka. Pùù saw naanì, tu duu pùù a yuki.  Ma Mishiwːb’aw pùù shìyo sioiojì. Khughi pa lu sikhì.” The Matron turned away, then turned back. “Khi, d’ì tie uu jalee pùù.”

 

Mishi nodded. “Chiæ d’awː weeyì.”

 

“Wait!” Sloan called out as the Matron strode away, but Kira seemed to have forgotten Sloan’s existence. She disappeared through the doorway at the far end of the hall as Mishi tugged at Sloan’s arm.

 

“Come on, we need to get you cleaned up. You reek. Did you take a swim in the canal?”

 

Sloan turned and stumbled in the woman’s wake. “Yes. Can you let go, please? I don’t want to get a bruise.”

 

Mishi laughed as she released her hold. “Oh, is that so? Well, if all goes well, you will be getting plenty more bruises soon.

 

Don’t worry!” Mishi turned back and took Sloan’s arm again, gentler this time, as Sloan began to shy away. “I didn’t mean that as a threat. I just meant that you will probably get some bumps and bruises in your new job.”

 

“New…what new job? Where are we going, anyway?” Sloan tried to pull away but Mishi’s grip tightened once again. “The stairs to the baths are that way!”

 

“The stairs to the Ladies’ baths are that way. That’s what we call them – the Ladies. Prancing around in their underthings, giggling and carrying on. Soft and silly sheep, that’s all they are.”

 

“What? But…”

 

“I know, you were one of them. But not anymore.”

 

“What? But…”

 

“Consider yourself lucky. The Matron has decided to let you stay. By all rights, she should throw you out after what you just did. We don’t need that kind of attention. But she has decided to protect you.” Mishi shook her head. “It will cost a small fortune to bribe the officials. And you will need to stay out of sight, so no more soft pillows and silk underthings for you, I’m afraid! Good thing you didn’t kill anyone important.”

 

“How do you know about that?”

 

“Well, you weren’t very subtle about it. Everyone in the orphanage saw you fleeing. In one of our dresses, I might add. That would have been a giveaway even if your face – not to mention the rest of you – wasn’t well known to half the male population of Riften by now.”

 

“Hey!” Sloan felt an unexpected blush but Mishi had turned to open a door and was facing away.

 

“Here we are. Get cleaned up. Wash twice. We can’t have that stench in the kitchen while we’re cooking – don’t want to taint the Ladies’ special food, now do we? Go on.” Mishi motioned and Sloan stepped into the room.

 

After the luxurious baths she had become accustomed to, the four rough wood tubs seemed cramped and dirty. Sloan wrinkled her nose as Mishi pushed her way in.

 

“Well, come on. We don’t have all night! We need to be up before dawn to make sure the Ladies’ breakfasts are ready.” She followed Sloan’s eyes and laughed. “What, do these tubs not meet your standards? Are you too good for them?”

 

“No, it’s not…it’s just…” Sloan stopped, her tongue once again knotted. Had she become so snobbish? When she had lived at the orphanage, just one of these tubs would have felt like a minor miracle. She peeked in the nearest and was heartened to see familiar soaps on a shelf along one side.

 

“We use the leftover soap from the Ladies’ baths. They get a new bar every day! But the used bars are still perfectly fine and last a long time, so we never run out down here. Hurry up, I need to burn your clothes.”

 

“I…um…yes. Of course.” Sloan slipped out of the sodden dress and then the dainty underthings, then stepped into the bath. The water was hot and clean and she sighed as she sank chin deep into it.

 

“This isn’t one of the Ladies’ soaking tubs. Get in, wash up, get out. Well, in your case, wash up twice, then get out. There are a lot of people who need baths and we’ve only got these four, so there’s no time to dawdle. Besides, unlike the Ladies, we have actual work to do. Get scrubbing.”

 

Sloan sighed but obeyed, picking up the soap (yesterday’s scent, the noted) and beginning to lather as Mishi gathered up the remains of her life and left the room.

 

She supposed she should have known she wouldn’t be able to kill someone and then just return to her life as if nothing had happened. All the kids knew her, as did the staff. Had Constance seen her? Everything was a blur; she had no way to know. Either way, as helpful as they had been in her entry and escape, children were children. Someone would have found out about her sooner or later.

 

So she owed the Matron. Again. She had barely begun to scratch the debt from her rescue from slavery and the way she had chosen to thank her twice-savior was to make her save her yet again.

 

Mishi was right – Kira really should have kicked her out. Probably the only thing that had saved her from a life on the streets (or, more likely, in the Riften stockade or, most likely, back to slavery) was that debt. It would probably take her a lifetime to pay it back through labor, but simply kicking her to the gutter would bring no return at all. Well, maybe some if the Matron had chosen to re-enslave her and sell her off, which would have been within her rights.

 

Sloan signed as she finished her bath and dried off with a towel that was heavenly compared to the dirty thin scraps of cloth they had had at the orphanage but felt as rough as two day stubble compared to the Ladies’ (great, she was already doing it) cloudlike bundles of softness.

 

Life could be so much worse, as she well knew. No matter what happened, she resolved to accept it without complaint.