“Your skill is greater than the magic in the scissors,” Edan said. Something about his expression softened, as if he respected my decision. “But if you want to win for your family, you’ll need the scissors. If you want to win against Norbu, you’ll need the scissors.”
“How does he use magic?”
Edan stifled a yawn. “Don’t worry about that for now.”
“How can I not?” I said, wincing as I tried to curl my newly healed fingers. Now that the fogginess in my head was clearing, I couldn’t stop thinking about how calmly Norbu had broken my hand. As if he’d done such a thing before.
I glanced about me, only now noticing my surroundings. Books everywhere, neatly ordered on their shelves, and scrolls that were labeled and tied with different-colored cords. Pockets of dried herbs and jasmine to mask the faint smell of incense that wafted in from outside. There was also a dagger with a silvery sheath, a thin wooden flute, and a painted horse figurine that looked like a child’s toy.
I reached out with my good hand for one of the books. “Is this your room?”
“Yes, while I’m here.” Edan yawned. “Stop being nosy, now. You should sleep.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Well, I am. Sleep. It’ll help your hand recover.”
I started to protest, but he touched my forehead, and the world folded into darkness.
• • •
Norbu was not pleased to see me back in the Hall of Supreme Diligence, but he hid it well enough. He was there with the others, cleaning up the mess from the fire. His table had been burned, but he didn’t look half as troubled as Longhai and Yindi—both had dark shadows under their eyes.
“Back so soon from the infirmary?” Norbu said coolly. “We worried you’d died.” He glanced at my hand and noted the missing cane. “A broken hand to go with your broken leg?”
“You’re the one who broke it,” I retorted, appalled by the man’s audacity.
“Me?” Norbu scoffed. “I was asleep in my bed the entire time. Ask the others.”
“I saw you,” I hissed. “You broke my hand.”
“You’ve a vivid imagination, young Tamarin.” He laughed, but I’d heard the edge in his tone as he discredited me. “Come, let me walk you to your stat—”
I pushed his hand away and started for my table. Behind Norbu, Longhai passed me a sympathetic look, but he didn’t speak up.
I couldn’t blame him. Norbu was a famous tailor and a powerful man; I was no one. Except for Edan, who would believe that he’d broken my hand? Still, now I knew Norbu was using magic. It didn’t give me power over him, but it made me determined to beat him.
Norbu called after me, “I take it you are ambidextrous.”
I ignored him, sifting through the remains of my station. A fallen Sage had smashed my wooden screen, but my loom was intact. My embroidery frame was ruined.
I bent to retrieve my cane. The fire had singed its wood, but it was still usable. Leaning on its familiar support, I picked up one of my spools, still warm to the touch. Edan had said it would take time for my hand to heal, but even holding a spool of thread was painful. Using my good hand, I bundled together the few things that had survived.
“Longhai and Yindi found their jackets outside,” Norbu said. He’d followed me, of course. “And yours. Some good soul must have tried to save them.”
“It’s a good thing you putyourjacket aside, Norbu,” I said through my teeth. “Otherwise, all your hard work might have been ruined in the fire.”
“The gods watch over me,” Norbu said, pressing his hands together. “I am very grateful.”
I snorted loudly enough for him to hear. “You sabotaged us.”
Norbu straightened, looking shocked. “Excuse me?”
“You started the fire,” I said. “I heard you outside—”
“I think it more likelyyoustarted the fire, Master Tamarin,” Norbu interrupted. “You were the only one working late, after all. And your jacket is practically unscathed.”
“Me?” I nearly shouted. “You—”
