“You’re a sacrilegious one,” I muttered. “What does it matter? Lady Sarnai never wears anything we make her.”
“She’s trying to amuse herself.”
“The way you amuse yourself betting pigs on my future?”
“Not quite. Though I’d win faster if you called upon those special scissors of yours.”
I wrung my brush free of water. “I’ve buried them.”
“Buried them?” He grinned, tossing the coin one last time. “How many times have I told you not to lie to an enchanter, Maia Tamarin?”
“MasterTamarin. And I don’t need them.”
“You’re used to being underestimated, so you want to prove yourself. Don’t let that be your crutch. Accept help when you need it.”
“I will. Now would you please go?”
He bowed, his black hair netting the sunlight as he bent. “As you wish, Master Tamarin.” He winked at me. “As you wish.”
• • •
Much as I resented him, Edan was right about the weather. Soon after dusk, the clouds darkened. Thunder boomed, followed by streaks of lightning ripping across the sky. Rain pattered against the roof, and I quickly moved my jacket away from the windows and shut them.
I prayed the paint would dry despite the humidity. I’d spent a small fortune on the color, a deep violet that was one of A’landi’s most prized exports on the Great Spice Road.
“Where’s Norbu?” I asked Longhai. “His jacket’s not here.”
“I haven’t seen him. Neither has Yindi.” Longhai took a swig from his gourd, a larger one than his previous—a “gift” from Norbu, I suspected. “Hope he’s not caught in the rain.”
I didn’t have time to worry about Norbu. I set my jacket on my table and inspected it with a critical eye. Stiff enough to stand on its own, the jacket had rippling sleeves and an embroidered collar like in the Freverish courts, and tonight I would twine strips of silk into its lace belt. Every detail was a marriage between one end of the Spice Road and the other.
Not bad. Best of all, I’d made it by myself with no help from any special scissors.
But think of what you could’ve done with the scissors, my inner voice nagged me.
I ignored it. If Lady Sarnai discovered that I was using magic, I would be dismissed.
Then again, if I lost the trial, I’d be sent home. There were four of us left now. Surely there’d be at least one more challenge before an imperial tailor was chosen?
I worked late, long after Longhai and Yindi had gone to bed, and the warm rain tinkling down the roofs became a patter, then a mist. Since no one was here, I decided to try on my jacket to make sure the belt would hold the paper folds together. As I tied the belt about my waist, a black hawk with white-tipped wings cried out and circled in the night sky.
“There it is again!” I peered out the window, but it’d already flown out of sight. I slipped outside to look for the bird.
Shadows crawled over the palace grounds, and the round red lanterns that lit the corridor beamed like glowing stars. In the distance I heard crickets chirping, and the soft rustle of the wind against the trees. The hawk was nowhere to be seen.
Disappointed, I suddenly became aware that I’d forgotten my cane and had worn my jacket out of the hall. I slipped it off, and as I turned back, a terrible sight made me gasp.
Smoke. Not from the kitchens, but billowing out of the Hall of Supreme Diligence. The hall was on fire!
I dropped my jacket and dashed for the nearest fire bell. “Fire! Fire!”
Still shouting, I pulled open the door. Flames danced near Yindi’s worktable. I saw his jacket hanging on one of the wooden screens, and Longhai’s stretched out on his table. They’d be ruined if I didn’t do something!
Barreling inside was not the smartest thing to do, but I did it anyway, ignoring the pain from the pebble in my shoe and racing to rescue their jackets.
I grabbed them and hurried toward the door. The ground smoldered under my feet, and the smoke was thick, searing my lungs and obscuring my sight.
Disoriented, I spun. I’d made sure to leave the door open when I entered, but now it was closed!
