He took the stool next to me and observed my work. “Your skill never fails to impress me, Master Tamarin.”
I held up the slippers I’d been embroidering. “There’s nothing impressive about this.”
He pointed at my tight, even stitches and the nine colors I had labored the last two hours to integrate into the design. “Even when your heart is only half in the work, you’re better than most masters out there. I should thank your father for keeping you in Port Kamalan. If you’d grown up in the Bansai Province, you’d have put me out of business.”
I chuckled. “Was your father also a tailor?”
“By the Sages, no. He was a porcelain painter, as was his father before him, and so on. Five generations of fine bone china in my family. Our shop was the first stop merchants made in Nissei. He nearly disowned me when I showed interest in becoming a tailor, but my grandfather saw I had some talent and permitted my mother to teach me embroidery in secret.” He gestured at a painting of his mother, which hung in a place of prominence, presiding over the workroom.
“My younger brother owns the porcelain store now. The war nearly destroyed both of our businesses; if not for each other, we would not have survived. Still, compared to others, fortune has been kind. I’ve my reputation, my health, and my shop.” He paused, and I knew he was thinking of his companion who’d been lost to the previous war and his sons who had recently been called to bear arms.
Lightning cracked the gloomy sky, and Longhai glanced out the window. “The dragons must be out to play,” he murmured.
“The dragons?” I repeated. “Is that a saying here?”
“You haven’t heard it before? I suppose Port Kamalan doesn’t get many typhoons during the summer. Bansai does, and heavy rains in the winter too.” Longhai opened a silk fan. “The Kiatans say that the dragons in heaven bring about mischief to the earth by causing rain and quakes. Their porcelain traders always used to mumble about it when they came during the summers, and we locals picked up the phrase. I rather likeit.”
“It’s poetic.”
“Luckily for you, this is a little dragon. Makes travel inadvisable, but it’ll pass.”
The tailor reached into his pocket for some coins. “Now, this is going to be nothing compared to your salary in the palace, but—”
“I couldn’t take your money.” I shook my head. “Please. Especially not after you’ve been so kind to Ammi.”
Longhai set the money on the table, leaving it up to me to decide whether to take it. “Ammi?” His belly shook as he laughed, remembering. “Ah! The kitchen maid who used to serve you breakfast.”
“She’s become a close friend,” I replied. I’d been thinking about my next words ever since I’d arrived at his shop: “I wonder if she might stay on with you.”
Longhai folded up his fan. The amusement fled his eyes, and his features became solemn. “Going somewhere?”
I bit my lip. What could I say, that I was on my way to the Forgotten Isles of Lapzur to battle its guardian? That unless I defeated Bandur, I too would become a demon?
Or should I say I was looking for Edan?
Since Ammi had fallen ill, I’d avoided the thought of Edan. Was he already waiting for me in the forest? What if when I found him, I was more monster than Maia?
“I displeased Emperor Khanujin with my service,” I replied evasively, “so we’ve been trying to go as far from the Winter Palace as possible. Ammi’s done nothing wrong.”
“I see,” said Longhai quietly. “The Tambu Islands might provide sanctuary. Once this storm passes, I could help arrange passage—”
“I don’t plan on hiding,” I said firmly. I wouldn’t elaborate.
“What of the Lord Enchanter?”
My fingers stopped, and I pulled too hard on a thread, causing the fabric to bunch. With a frown, I started undoing the stitches I’d made too tight. Try as I might, I could not set them straight again.
Longhai placed a hand on my work, urging me to look up. His voice softened. “I have many friends who come and go from the palace. A little while before you arrived, news came that he is missing. And I heard he aided you in making the dresses of Amana.”
“He did,” I said. I didn’t want to talk about Edan.
“Master Tamarin…”
At the sound of my name, I bolted up. I wasn’t hungry, but I clutched my stomach, pretending to be suddenly famished.
“What was that you said about beef noodles, Master Longhai? Keep your coins, but I will have some lunch after all.”
Before he could respond—or ask me any more questions—I hurried out of the workroom.
