Spin the Dawn(14)

“We heard that you’re taking your father’s place here in the trial,” he said. “How noble of you. My own baba died before I was born, but Master Huan—the emperor’s last tailor—was like a father to me.”

I folded my hands, which were itching to work, to be polite. “I didn’t realize he was your master.”

“Long ago,” Norbu replied, sniffling. “But it still pained me when they found his body in the Jingan River last month.”

I swallowed. “I’m sorry to hear it.”

“He worked in this very hall, you know, with dozens of his apprentices. Even I came sometimes to assist him.” Norbu paused. “The maids swear his ghost haunts the palace some nights.”

A shiver tingled across my arm. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

“Neither do I.” Norbu tilted his head, his marblelike eyes studying me. “Worry not about the others, young Tamarin. I’ll keep my eye on you.”

I was relieved when he finally left me alone, and I draped the silk shawl over my arm. Silk was naturally light on the skin. That was what made it so sought after, so expensive.

I was good at painting, like Master Longhai, but embroidery was my strength, like Master Yindi and Master Taraha. I decided to paint a garden and embroider its flowers. Peonies, lilies, and chrysanthemums, with a lady holding a dragonfly on her finger. It was a scene I’d practiced dozens of times, and the paint would dry quickly. With only one day to complete the shawl, now was not the time to take an unnecessary risk.

The hours passed. Painting kept my hands and mind busy, but the endless prattle of the other tailors was a constant hum.

“This is servants’ work,” one grumbled. “I haven’t had to knot tassels since I was a boy.”

“Dyeing is worse.”

“All to be tailor to the traitor’s daughter. What glory is there in that?”

“The privilege of serving His Majesty is honor enough,” Longhai cut in. “Any more honor, and we’d have to become priests at the High Temple.”

On and on they talked, until it had to be past midnight. My eyelids drooped. I hadn’t had a good night’s sleep since leaving Port Kamalan.

No, I need to stay alert. I’ll never finish if I go to sleep now.

I stretched my fingers and rubbed a sore muscle in my neck. My whole body was tense. Bending over my work for hours and hours was second nature to me, but not while surrounded by eleven other tailors. The temptation to peek at my neighbors’ progress was great, and everyone’s chatter made it difficult for me to focus.

I rolled my shoulders back and picked up my needle to embroider the edges of the shawl, taking care not to smudge the painted scene.

“I made a cloak for the Lady of Bandeiya embroidered with a thousand peonies,” Master Taraha was saying, “and she loved it so much she paid me with the finest jade necklace. My daughter is lucky to have me as a father. I gave it to her as part of her dowry.”

“I’ve personally met Lady Sarnai. I know what she prefers.”

“I can’t imagine the barbarian’s daughter in such fine silk. What a waste.”

I knotted my thread and yanked it free from its spool. If only they would stop chattering!

“And what about you, Keton Tamarin?” Yindi called out from the other side of the room. “You’re a quiet one. Why do you want to win His Majesty’s little contest?”

I froze. What could I say? I was here for the glory, but more to help my family.

Don’t be humble, Keton had warned me. A man is proud of his craft. To be less than so is to seem ashamed of it.

I said, with as much arrogance as I could muster, “Because I’m the best tailor in A’landi.”

I heard several of the men scoff. “You’re barely a man.”

“Youth itself is a talent,” Norbu said, calming them. “I trust His Majesty’s judgment.”

Yindi was relentless. “And how are you the best tailor, young Tamarin?”

I swallowed but spoke boldly. “I can spin and weave and knot. I’ve studied all four schools of embroidery. I can do a hundred different stitches in my sleep, and I’m fast.”

Someone sniffed. “A brilliant design isn’t only about speed or intricate stitches.”

“I know.” I went on, “It’s also about composition. And color—”

“You think you know more about color than I do?” Yindi scoffed. “Well, pretty boy, we’ll see what you come up with. My bet is that you won’t last through the morning.”

“I suppose he can taper and hem a pair of trousers with his eyes closed,” Boyen muttered, just loudly enough for me to hear. “So why did he come dressed like a peasant?”

My ego faltered, but I caught Longhai’s encouraging smile. “You’ll see” was all I could muster.

Don’t draw any more attention, I warned myself. They already think there’s something odd about you.

My hands trembled. For the first time I could remember, I had trouble easing my thread into the needle’s eye.

“Having difficulty, Tamarin?” Boyen mocked. “Maybe you should try licking the thread.” He made a smacking sound. “It’s what they teach the children to do.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed my cane and started for the door.