Spin the Dawn(12)

“Wing Longhai,” he introduced himself. “From the Bansai Province.”

I recognized the name. Master Longhai was famous for making men’s robes; he’d attired the most acclaimed scholars and the highest nobles. He’d even made a robe for Emperor Khanujin’s father.

“Keton Tamarin,” I replied. “From Port Kamalan, south of Gangsun.”

Longhai smiled. His face was craggy, with deep grooves; his skin was touched by the sun, more than was usual for a master tailor, which suggested that, like me, he came from humble beginnings. Even so, his clothes were very fine, and he gave off a faint smell of rice wine under a perfume of sandalwood and lotus.

“Ah,” he said. “I thought you looked like you were from the South. I take it you’ve brought amulets for luck and fortitude? My wife wouldn’t let me leave home without a stockpile of charms. Master Yindi already has a dozen hanging off his desk!”

I wrapped my hand over my cane. “I don’t believe in such things.”

“And you call yourself a Southerner?”

“Port Kamalan is very small,” I replied tersely. “There’s little place for magic there.”

Longhai shook his head at me. “Magic might not have any place in Port Kamalan, but you’re in the imperial court now. You’ll change your mind. Especially after you meet the emperor’s Lord Enchanter.”

I raised an eyebrow. I knew little of enchanters, lord or not, other than that they were rare and drifted from land to land. They didn’t sound like very loyal advisers to me, so I didn’t understand why kings and emperors prized them so much.

Longhai must have noticed the skeptical look on my face, for he said, “The Lord Enchanter advises Emperor Khanujin on many matters. He served the emperor’s father for years, yet he hasn’t aged a day! Some of the tailors are trying to befriend him—they’ll do anything for an edge.”

“Wouldn’t using magic be cheating?”

“An unfair advantage, I’d say. But cheating?” Longhai chuckled. “Do you think the emperor’s trial will be a competition merely of skill?”

I shrugged. I’d always been skeptical of magic. But I tended to be skeptical of most things I couldn’t stitch together with a needle and thread. “What else is there to test?”

“You have much to learn,” he said, but not unkindly.

We walked together to the Hall of Supreme Diligence, skirting a garden full of winding paths and plum and pine trees.

“The Courtyard of Heavenly Peace. We aren’t allowed past the waterfall there, not without permission.” Longhai lowered his voice. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t take a peek.”

He crouched with his head bent and nudged me to do the same; then he pointed. Far on the other side of the garden, a woman walked briskly as three servants trailed her.

She was beautiful, with ivory skin, cascading black hair, and a swanlike neck. And clearly highborn, given the servants and the regal way she walked. But her clothing was odd: she wore leather boots, a simple shift of pale blue broadcloth that barely covered her ankles, and a quilted fur coat over her shoulders, hardly appropriate for the mild weather.

The maids were pleading with her. “Your Highness, there isn’t much time before your welcoming banquet. Will you not change?”

“What is wrong with what I’m wearing?” the lady replied. Her tone was sharp, and it left no room for argument.

Her maids chased after her. “Your Highness, please!”

The lady strode on, deaf to their pleas. Following her was the largest man I’d ever seen. He was big as a bear and dwarfed the entire pathway. His beard was sharply cropped, and his eyes were narrow, crested by thick, black eyebrows.

“Your Highness,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice. “You should heed your maids’ advice. Please. It is what your father would wish.”

The lady stilled. She wouldn’t look at her companion, but tension flared between them. She raised her chin. “You would take his side, wouldn’t you, Lord Xina?”

I couldn’t see whether Lord Xina nodded or bowed in response, but the lady turned to her head maid. “Very well,” she said, her voice shakier than before. “I will see what garments His Majesty has to offer. However, I make no promise to wear any of them.”

Longhai rose once the lady was out of earshot. “Well, well. I’d say that was worthwhile. We’ll have an edge against the others tomorrow. That was Lady Sarnai, the shansen’s daughter.”

I tried not to show my surprise. That was the lady we’d have to sew for during the trial? I’d envisioned her as a warrior like her father—a girl who wore armor and breeches, had no trace of femininity, and had grown up wild and untamed. Lady Sarnai did look fierce, but she was also…beautiful.

A grin spread across Longhai’s wrinkled face. “Not what you expected, I see.”

“She’s very graceful” was all I could manage. “What about the man behind her?”

“Lord Xina,” Longhai replied in a pinched tone. “The shansen’s favorite warrior and the son of his most trusted adviser. His presence is an insult to His Majesty.”

“An insult?”

“There are rumors Lord Xina was betrothed to Lady Sarnai before the truce was called. That he is her lover. But it’s all court gossip. No one knows for certain.” The old tailor reached into his robes for a flask. He offered it to me, and after I declined, he took a long drink.