Spin the Dawn(11)
“I heard you utter something, Keton Tamarin,” Lorsa said, his beady eyes blinking at me.
I clamped my lips shut. For a dangerous moment, I’d forgotten to sound like my brother. Had Lorsa noticed?
“Speak up if you have something to say.”
“Um.” My mouth became suddenly dry. I cleared my throat and summoned my best deep, male voice. “I was under the impression, sir, that the position was for a tailor for Emperor Khanujin.”
“Your job is to please the emperor,” the eunuch corrected me. “And he wishes the new imperial tailor to furnish Lady Sarnai’s wardrobe.”
I dipped my head, but not before seeing the tailors in front of me exchange glances. “Understood, sir.”
My question had stirred unrest among the other tailors. Not everyone was comfortable with the idea of serving the shansen’s daughter, especially with the war having ended so recently.
Minister Lorsa went on: “Once the new imperial tailor has been selected, his first task will be to create Lady Sarnai’s wedding gown, so it is of utmost importance that your designs during the trial please Lady Sarnai as well as His Majesty.
“We shall begin with a simple task. As Lady Sarnai comes from the much colder North, she has few garments appropriate for the Summer Palace’s temperate weather. His Majesty wishes her to have a shawl appropriate for the evening’s gentle breezes.”
A shawl? How in the Nine Heavens was Lady Sarnai to determine a tailor’s skill by a shawl?
“You have each been allotted a bolt of white silk. You may cut your silk as you see fit. His Imperial Majesty’s seal has been printed on each corner of the swath; all four seals must be present in your design. Only the dyes, embroidery threads, and ribbons in the materials cabinets may be used for your design in this challenge. No tailor is permitted outside assistance. Have your pieces ready for inspection tomorrow morning.”
Tomorrow? I looked around and saw every tailor’s back stiffen. Clearly everyone was as shocked as I was, but no one dared say anything, so I kept quiet too.
“Lady Sarnai will arrive in the morning to determine the tailors invited to stay for the next round of the trial,” Lorsa continued. “Do not forget that the shansen’s is an inherited title, like the emperor’s, part of an unbroken bloodline of A’landi’s military leaders. Lady Sarnai will be addressed as Your Highness, is that understood?” The minister waited for us to murmur that it was. “Good. May the Sages inspire you to craft something worthy of her.”
No gong or bell pealed, but the words rang of freedom to my ears. I got up, reaching for the bolt of cloth and my sketchbook. The other tailors were already furiously designing, but I had no idea what I was going to do for Lady Sarnai’s shawl.
Being surrounded by eleven sweaty, zealously competitive men wasn’t going to inspire me, so I gathered some supplies from the cabinet and left the Hall of Supreme Diligence to find my own way.
CHAPTER FOUR
My new home was a narrow room shaped like an elbow, furnished with a cot and a three-legged table barely steady enough to hold a candle. There was also a small bronze vessel on the wooden windowsill with incense for prayer, a bamboo lantern hanging from the ceiling, and a porcelain washbasin in which a fly had drowned.
“At least it’s clean,” I said aloud. “And I don’t have to share it with anyone.”
It was the first time I’d been alone in nearly a week. I leaned my head against the painted wall, taking a moment to breathe before I addressed the real reason I needed time to myself.
Slowly, I undid my shirt buttons. My entire torso pounded with pain. My chest was fairly flat for a girl, but I’d taken the precaution of binding strips of linen around it, and after five days of travel, my discomfort was enormous. I didn’t dare remove the strips, but I dipped my hands into the bowl of water and cleaned off my sweat.
I’d have to get used to the pain.
I buttoned my shirt again and emptied my satchel onto the bed. For once, the sight of my tools didn’t inspire or comfort me. I heaved a sigh. There was no way I could embroider an entire shawl by tomorrow morning.
I could paint one, though.
I was about to rifle through my things for my brushes when the bundle with Baba’s scissors caught my eye. Out of curiosity, I unwrapped it, holding out the scissors so they glinted in the dim light. The finger bows were thinner and more delicate than those of my own pair, but aside from the sun and moon engraved on the shanks, there was nothing special about them. Besides, I didn’t need an extra pair of scissors, so I rewrapped them and shoved them under my cot.
“Now, where are the paint pots I took?” I muttered, rummaging through my supplies. “Did I leave them in the hall?”
I must have. With a groan, I limped back toward the Hall of Supreme Diligence. I’d hoped not to run into anyone on the way, but an old man waved at me as I passed him.
He was large and wide in girth, but his fingers appeared thin and nimble. A glance at his sash confirmed he was a fellow tailor: we wore pins and needles the way a general wore medals. I stopped to greet him. He was not someone who had bet against my abilities—that I knew of.
“You must be Master Tamarin’s son,” he said. “Your face is the easiest one to recognize. You barely look old enough to grow a beard!”
He said it so cheerfully I forgot my restraint and laughed.