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.
Why is she here?I wondered as the tailors and I murmured our greetings to the shansen’s daughter.
“I’ve decided this challenge is too simple,” Lady Sarnai announced. “I am flattered His Imperial Majesty has bidden you to embroider slippers for me, but I have plenty. So I have decided to ask for something more—unique.
“As empress, I will welcome visitors from all over the world. A’landan slippers are revered for their beauty and adherence to tradition. But in Samaran, the queens wear slippers made of iron, and in Agoria, the princesses wear shoes wrought of gold.Iwould like a pair that embodies such strength and power, yet is pleasing to the eye.”
A servant entered and set down a stack of blue porcelain plates. Then another brought glass bowls, glass vases, and fluted wine vessels. Soon the front table was piled with objects from paper to straw to bronze, even flowers.
Master Taraha asked what everyone was wondering: “Your Highness, a tailor does not usually work with porcelain or glass or—”
Lady Sarnai cut him off. “The imperial tailor is a master chosen by the gods. I expect him to be able to work with any material, whether it be glass or silk. Or even the air, should I ask it. If that is a problem, you are welcome to go home.”
That ended the questions.
Lady Sarnai turned on her heel, and Minister Lorsa hurried after her.
As soon as they were gone, the tailors dashed for the table. I lurched forward, hobbling as fast as I could with my cane, but someone kicked it from my hand and I fell hard.
Longhai pulled me up with a strong hand. “Hurry, Tamarin, before everything’s taken.”
Master Garad had already snatched the straw, and the others went for the bronze and iron and paper. By the time I reached the table, only the glass and porcelain items were left. Norbu took the porcelain plates at the last minute, leaving me with glass.
Master Boyen peeked over my screen. He held a handful of orchids and was already weaving the leaves and stems into the shape of a slipper. “Ohhh, glass.” He tsked with false sympathy. “That’s going to be difficult.”
