Spin the Dawn(108)
On the kitchen table was a line of half-burnt candles and a pile of half-sewn silk. I stroked the silk; it was satiny and lustrous, the kind you could only buy from merchants on the Road.
“You’ve been sewing again,” I marveled, hearing Baba’s box of pins rattling in his pocket as he followed me. “Was the money I sent enough?”
“You sent us too much money,” Baba scolded me. “I had to give half of it away so our neighbors would stop asking where it came from and where you’d gone. They’re shrewd ones, those fishermen’s wives, but they’re no snitches…at least not after a hundred jens.”
“I was worried you wouldn’t have enough food,” I said, relieved.
“Be more worried about Keton’s sewing skills.”
“I’m getting better,” my brother protested.
“Yes, he can finally sew buttons now.”
Keton made a face. “What about you, Maia?” he said, studying me. “You look…different.”
I was wearing his old clothes—the ones I’d taken the night I’d decided to leave home. Yet I knew what he meant. I was different.
I’d battled ghosts and touched the stars. I’d climbed a mountain to the moon and conquered the fury of the sun. How could I be the same girl who used to sit in the corner mending rips and practicing embroidery all day?
But I said none of this as I helped Keton to his chair and spread a blanket over his legs. Drums thundered in the near distance. The sound startled me, and I jumped. “What’s that?”
“They’re from the temple,” Keton said, frowning at my unease. “Maia, are you all right?”
“Just tired,” I said quickly. “I’ve had a long journey.”
It was the first lie I’d ever told my brother. I wasn’t fine, and when I glanced at Baba, I could tell he knew it. I clutched Edan’s walnut in my hand. Somehow, it gave me strength to know that if this was the last time I’d see my family, I’d do some good for them.
“So,” Keton said. “Tell me everything.”
I sat on the stool beside his chair, still unsettled by the drums. Their pounding was a steady counterpoint to my unsteady heart. “What is there to tell?”
“Come on, Maia. You’ve been gone for months. You’re the imperial tailor. You’ve met the emperor and the shansen’s daughter. You must have a story to tell.”
I touched his knees and looked back at Baba’s pile of clothes to be mended. It would be so easy to stay here with them, to take care of the shop and forget everything that had happened. If only I could. “I don’t even know where to begin.”
“Start at the beginning,” Baba said. “Make it a tale, like the ones Sendo used to tell you. Then the story will come to you.”
Yes, Sendo used to tell me fairy tales. How he’d love mine if he were still alive: the tale of a girl who’d sewn the sun, the moon, and the stars into three dresses, the tale of a girl whom a demon had vowed to possess.
It was the tale of a boy, too. A boy who could fly but not swim. A boy with the powers of the gods but the shackles of a slave. A boy who loved me.
It was a tale still being written.
I took a deep breath, then told them about the trial, the master tailors I had met and competed against, and Lady Sarnai’s request for the three dresses of the sun and the moon and the stars. I recounted my journey with Edan across A’landi and the Halakmarat Desert and Agoria, even to the Forgotten Isles of Lapzur, and what enchantment surrounded Emperor Khanujin whenever Edan was near. But as I approached the end of my story, Baba’s brow creased. No matter how I tried to hide what I was feeling, he could always read me. He could tell I was leaving something out, and he was right.
Shadows fell over me as the day aged, and I sank into them to hide from the scrutiny of Baba’s gaze. I couldn’t tell him I’d fallen in love with the emperor’s enchanter, or that the power of Amana’s dresses had set him free—or that I’d been cursed by a demon.
“That’s quite the tale, Maia,” said Baba when I finished. “So it is thanks to you that the emperor and Lady Sarnai will wed.”
“Tell me more about the ghosts and the demons,” urged Keton. “And this enchanter.”
“Later, Keton.” Baba looked at me and frowned. “Maia, you don’t look well.”
“I’m just tired.” I managed a smile, but my fists were clenched. A chill seeped in from one of the windows. “Keton, you’re shivering. Let me get you some tea.”
“I’m not shivering,” my brother protested, but I was already up.
Reaching into my pocket, I retrieved the walnut. Deftly, I cracked it open like an egg. A golden liquid, thick as honey, glistened before me, and the scent of ginger wafted into the air. I started to empty its contents into the teapot, but at the last moment, I wavered. I’d witnessed enough of Edan’s enchantment to have faith in it, and yet…magic had never been what made Baba call me the strong one. It had changed me, but it had never made me stronger—or happier. How could it, for Baba and Keton?
They were waiting for me, so I shoved the walnut behind one of our potted plants. I scooped up the nearest cup and filled it. The weight of the tea pressed the cup against my palm, and the heat settled in a second later. My skin tingled from the warmth, and I handed the cup to Keton, then poured a cup for Baba. Then a cup for me.