Spin the Dawn(22)

“Berries would also work. Roots, bark, mushrooms. Anything you could spare.”

“Well, seeing as you’re making slippers for Lady Sarnai—”

“How do you know that?”

She smiled. “Word gets around, especially in the kitchen.”

“What can you tell me about Lady Sarnai?” I asked.

“Not much. The lady is impossible to please. Her maids complain that she enjoys tormenting them.”

I’d feared as much. At least Lady Sarnai was consistent in tormenting everyone.

Ammi led me to where the spices were stored. “I’ll distract the spice master,” she said. “Be quick.”

When she gave the signal, I slipped into the storeroom. There rested a fortune of spices. Cinnamon, black pepper, ginger, nutmeg, cassia, and an assortment of flavors I had never heard of. Safflower, saffron, cardamom. The colors were vibrant, but they weren’t what I was looking for.

Outside, Ammi giggled, and there was a thump on the door. I needed to hurry.

I reached for a random jar on the shelf, praying it wouldn’t be more pepper. No, it was chili. The next, turmeric. Then ginseng, licorice, fennel. I was running out of time!

I reached for another jar in the far corner. As soon as I opened it, I thanked the gods of luck.

Dried pea flowers. The cooks used them in sticky rice desserts to color the rice a rich shade of blue.

I poured a good handful of the dried flowers into my pocket and, ripping sheets from my sketchbook, wrapped up a few pinches of saffron, fennel seeds, and sorrel—all yellow dyes. Even if Lady Sarnai didn’t like yellow, I did. I liked how it stained my fingertips with sunshine and brightened the other colors surrounding it.

Ammi had somehow orchestrated it so that a trio of servant girls giggled around me as I slid out the door.

“Ammi’s so lucky she gets to serve the tailors.”

“Will you come back and show us your winning shawl?”

“Ammi told us you’re going to win the trial.”

“I hope so.” I laughed with them until I reached the exit.

Ammi winked at me, and I smiled my first real smile in days, mouthed a “Thank you,” and made my way back to the Hall of Supreme Diligence.



* * *



? ? ?

“Where have you been?” Yindi demanded when I returned from the kitchen.

I was suddenly glad the spices were tucked in my pocket. “I went for a walk.”

Yindi sniffed, his pudgy nose wrinkling. “I smell spices.”

I shrugged. “One of the maids passed me a snack.”

Yindi blocked me from returning to my worktable. He curled his beard around his fingers. “You surprised me, young Tamarin. Perhaps you do have some talent in you.”

“Thank you,” I muttered. I tried to move past him, but he continued to block me.

“However, a lad like you has to pay his dues before becoming His Majesty’s imperial tailor,” Yindi went on. “I don’t know where you learned to sew like that, but you won’t be taking the post away from me. I’m the best tailor in A’landi, and everyone knows it. I’m warning you not to get in my way. If you do, you’ll regret it.”

By now, I was convinced it was Yindi who had sabotaged my shawl. “I’m here to serve the emperor. Not to play your games.”

“So be it,” he said. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

As he stomped away, he blew out my candles, leaving my station in the dark.

“Make sure you don’t set your work on fire,” Yindi called after me with a laugh.

I relit the candles. I’d brought vermillion and emerald dyes with me, so I prepared those colored threads first. Then I steeped the flowers and spices from the kitchen in my paint pots; they would need several hours before they were ready to use.

I ironed out my satin, envisioning my design on its blank canvas. A mountain landscape to remind Lady Sarnai of home—it needed to astonish, so I would keep my stitches small to showcase my attention to detail and my mastery of elaborate needlework.

My fingers got to work. I began with the flowers: I always started with a simple cross, then filled in the petals and stem, drawing out the leaves. It took only a few minutes for each, but there were dozens to make. Next I would stitch the mountains, couching the thread down in long, jagged lines to outline their shape.

My needle swam in and out of the satin. Three stitches per pulse. In and out.

I worked through the night. The incense from Master Yindi’s miniature shrine was strong, and my eyelids grew heavy. I tugged at my cheeks, pinching them to stay awake.

Close to dawn, I stretched my arms and my back, which was beginning to hurt from so many hours hunched over my work. As I stood, I saw the basic shape of a shoe on Norbu’s table, but he hadn’t begun to construct it. Perhaps he had experience making slippers, but I still thought it bold of him to waste this work session.

When at last the gong in the front of the hall sounded, my fingers were raw from sewing.

“Attention!” Lorsa shouted. “Stop your work at once.”

Was it morning already? Light filtered in from the open windows, but I had barely noticed. I rubbed my eyes and turned to Minister Lorsa.

To my surprise, Lady Sarnai accompanied him, her expression cold and unreadable.