The Mirrored City by Michael J. Bode

parents, and she does not look like us. I think it is a simple desire to understand where she comes from.”
    “An interest you do not share,” Safina noted. “Do you have family in that depraved, unholy place? Anyone you miss?”
    Lyta’s shoulders tensed. “No.”
    Safina smiled warmly. “Child, it is fine. I know you did not spring from the ground, and if you were an orphan, you would have been given to Baash. So you must have had parents there. I am only curious as any mother would be.”
    Safina was right. Under the Compromise, young orphans were split by gender to live in one of the two cities. The males learned trade in Dessim, while the women learned to tend the Temple of Ohan.
    Lyta cast down her blue eyes. “My parents were Turisian nomads. My mother died when I was born, and my father brought me to the hateful city of Dessim to sell me as a whore. I escaped with my innocence… There is nothing for me there. I have told no one this, not even Shannon.”
    Safina smiled. “I like secrets. Can I share one of mine?”
    “If you deem me worthy, Mother.”
    Safina reached down and produced a pearl inlaid sandalwood box which she slid across the table. “Open it.”
    Lyta took a deep breath and flicked the gold latch. Delicately, her hands lifted the lid. Inside was a stack of pages torn from books. The cheap paper and smudged ink were like the pulp novels sold on Leader Street. “It’s pages from books.”
    “I have a weakness for the lurid literature of our wanton sister city, mysteries in particular,” Safina admitted freely. “But with every book, I remove the final pages and keep them in this box so I remain strong against temptation. I have read hundreds of books, and I don’t know how a single one ends. It’s given me an appreciation for enigmas.”
    “I appreciate your confidence in sharing this with me,” Lyta said, relieved. Such books were forbidden in Baash. She is opening up to me.
    “You’ve risen quickly in this family, Lyta. You have proven yourself loyal and devoted to the path Ohan sets before you. While my other daughters test their limits and boundaries, you have adhered to the strictures without fail. Shannon is willful, but your good influence keeps her here where she belongs.”
    “Thank you, Mother.” Lyta smiled.
    “Of course. More tea?” Safina offered.
    Lyta nodded gratefully. “Yes, please.”
    Safina refilled her cup. “I should have gotten to know you sooner. The loss of my daughter Bejia has left a place open in our family. It is immoral to show preference for the children born of my womb. I know this, and it is my fault for paying you so little attention.”
    Lyta sipped her tea. “You don’t need to apologize, Mother Safina. There is only love between us.”
    “But I wonder if I had just taken the opportunity before to sit with you as we are now,” Safina said grinning, “if I wouldn’t have figured it out sooner.”
    Lyta froze.
    Safina’s expression went cold. “Poisoning Bejia was stupid and reckless. It’s not your style at all. You’ve been nothing but careful in your schemes before.”
    “Bejia was not poisoned,” Lyta protested. “We all drank from the same container, and I finished her—”
    “Fire beetle husk,” Safina interjected. “Painful but not fatal in small doses. And it’s something our house confessors have in plentiful supply. It has no taste or smell.”
    “But I was fine. I am sorry to say, but Ohan—”
    “That tea you’ve been drinking is spiked with enough husk to burn your tongue off.”
    Lyta narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying.”
    “No. You are.” Safina clapped her hands. “Guards.”
    The side doors to Safina’s quarters burst open, and four female Patreans in white armor and gauzy veils marched toward Lyta.
    “You are an abomination,” Safina said. “I do not know what foul witchcraft you practice, and like the pages from my books, I will never know. The confessors, however, will torture your secrets out