Carefully, I lined my work area with a long scrap of muslin. Then, holding up my cane, I slammed the vase over and over until a thousand broken shards glittered on my table like blue diamonds.
One by one, I glued the shards over the base of the slippers. The glass cut into my fingers, making them bleed, but I bandaged them with scraps and kept going. I wouldn’t stop until every inch of the shoe sparkled.
I would create something stunning. And I didn’t need my scissors to do it.
* * *
• • •
On the day of our judgment, Lady Sarnai returned in the morning, accompanied by Minister Lorsa and the Lord Enchanter. Seeing the Lord Enchanter did nothing to soothe my already anxious nerves, but I did my best to ignore him and attended to bandaging my fingers and sweeping the leftover glass from my table. I wanted to collapse on my stool out of exhaustion, but I stood in front of my station like the other tailors to await Minister Lorsa’s announcement.
He declared, “Each tailor will wear his slippers to present to Lady Sarnai.” Lorsa chuckled. “If he is unable to take eight steps in them, he will be sent home.”
Relief washed over me as I slipped on my glass shoes. They fit easily and weren’t too difficult to walk in, but I saw Longhai staring down in dismay at his large, swollen feet.
The old tailor had been kind to me. I didn’t want to see him eliminated over this silly challenge.
Pretending to practice moving in my slippers, I walked across the hall toward my friend.
“Walk on your toes,” I advised him quietly as I passed his station. “It’s only a few steps.”
Longhai sent me a grateful look. He wasn’t the only one struggling. The sight of Yindi tottering about in his slippers, cursing his “demon’s luck,” almost made me pity him.
Lady Sarnai seemed amused by everyone’s discomfort. But miraculously, nearly everyone walked in his slippers without breaking them, except Master Garad, whose feet were so wide that his straw slippers collapsed.
Lady Sarnai lifted her chin, and he was dismissed.
I noticed then that the Lord Enchanter had disappeared from her side. His stride was so quiet I barely noticed him approaching my station.
“You’ve quite a dainty pair of feet for a boy,” he said, pointing at them with his shiny black boot. Light refracted off my blue glass slippers, like a thousand bright stars swirling across the wooden floor. “You made them all by yourself?”
“Yes, sir,” I said, but I avoided looking up at him. I knew if I did, his pale, ever-changing eyes would snare me.
“They’re exquisite,” the Lord Enchanter allowed. “Few diamonds sparkle as much as your slippers, Master Tamarin.” He folded his arms, his long fingers tapping against his elbow, and smiled. “Carry on, then.”
I peeked over my screen to catch a glimpse of the other tailors’ work. Taraha had used dozens of vibrant colors to embroider a hundred flowers onto each shoe. A masterpiece…but he stubbornly hadn’t used any of the special materials Lady Sarnai had requested.
He was asked to go home.
Master Boyen had gotten the palace blacksmith to smelt his bronze pieces into soles, but they were so heavy they tore the delicately woven orchids as he shuffled his eight paces.
He was also sent home.
The walking test was over, so I took my slippers off and laid them on my table, covering them with the embroidered satin cloth.
Lady Sarnai would pick that exact moment to arrive at my table. “Where are your slippers?”
Startled, I jumped. “Your Highness—here…here they are.”
I lifted the satin cover, expecting the shoes to glitter and sparkle, but a cloud passed over the sun, dulling their brilliance.
Lady Sarnai scoffed. “A bit simple for my taste. I’m disappointed, Master Tamarin. I had high hopes for you after seeing your shawl.”
No! Change her mind. Fast. “I…I dyed them with pea flowers, Your Highness,” I rambled, “which I understand grew near your father’s castle—”
“Do not attempt to ingratiate yourself with me,” Lady Sarnai said, but she’d stopped tapping her fan on her palm. The sun had returned and sent beams of light dancing off my slippers across the table and screen. An arched eyebrow rose. “What are they made of?”
I picked up one of the slippers to show how it sparkled in the light. “Glass.”
Lady Sarnai’s eyes narrowed. “Glass will break.”
Hastily, I slipped the slippers on again to show her they wouldn’t. “They’re—”
“Glass is a paradoxical material,” the Lord Enchanter cut in. “Fragile, yet resilient. Like the slippers.”
“You’ve taken a liking to the boy,” Lady Sarnai mocked. “Shall I have him sent to you after hours?”
Unruffled, he said, “How thoughtful, Your Highness. I have been thinking about having new shoes made, but I think I’ll stay with my current pair a little longer. I’ve no desire to walk on any more pins and needles than one does with you already.”
I stifled a smile, but Lady Sarnai wasn’t quite so amused. She snapped her fan open and returned to the front of the hall.
“Master Norbu, Master Longhai, and Master Yindi shall remain,” she said.
I bit my lip, hating how my insides curled. Yindi sent me a smirk, but Lady Sarnai wasn’t finished.
“And,” she said, “I will keep Master Tamarin as well.”
Gratitude and relief washed over me, but it was short-lived.
“Master Yindi has won for the second time,” Lady Sarnai went on. “He shall join me at the banquet tonight in my honor. To the rest of you who remain—do not disappoint me again.”
My inner voice nagged. You were almost sent home.
You could have won—if you had used the scissors.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I’d been in the palace a week, and gone from home for nearly two. I missed Baba and Keton terribly; sometimes after leaving the hall, I composed letters to them in my head. It sounded silly, but it lessened my pangs of loneliness.
Now that there were only four tailors left, I had time to write an actual letter. I sat by a pond of carp surrounded by plum trees, which was quickly becoming my favorite spot in the palace, with a sheet of parchment on my lap, and my brush…but I didn’t know what to say.
Dear Baba—and Maia,
The emperor has asked twelve men to compete for the position of imperial tailor, and I had to make a pair of slippers last night—out of glass! Can you believe it? I didn’t use those scissors you gave me.
I hesitated and folded an arm over the pond’s stone edge. “Oh, Baba, did you know what they can do? I need to win, but what if I can’t without them?” I wrung my hands. “No, I can’t write that.”
I didn’t use those scissors you gave me, and my slippers passed the challenge. I hope the money I sent home will be enough to last through the summer.
My brush trembled as I bit my lip, reading aloud as I wrote my last line:
And, Maia, twelve steps. One for each day I’ve been gone.
A deep voice startled me. “Do you often make conversation with yourself?”
Stuffing my letter into my pocket, I lurched up and almost fell into the pond. I knew without turning around that it was the Lord Enchanter. His voice was growing familiar to me.
“I see you’ve survived another round,” he said when I faced him. He wore black yet again—a good color for skulking in the shadows and catching people unaware.
“It would have been a shame if you’d been sent home,” he continued. “Lucky for you, I decided to interfere.”
I bit back a retort. It was true, he had helped me. Remembering his rank, I bent my back into a stiff bow and said, as politely as I could muster, “Thank you, sir.”
“Bowing?” He eyed me. “Someone must have told you who I
am. Pity. Now you’re as formal and boring as the rest, and calling me sir.”
“I do not know how else to address you.”
His mouth set into a wry smile. “My full name would be too complicated for you to pronounce. You may call me Edan.”
“Edan,” I repeated. The name sounded foreign on my tongue.
He made a slight bow. “I serve as His Imperial Majesty’s resident Lord Enchanter. To the West, I am known as His Most Illustrious; to the East, I am His Most Illuminating; and in every other corner of the world, I am His Most Formidable.”
I drew in a sharp breath. What had Sendo told me about sorcerers? All I could remember was that they served kings all over the world, and they drank the blood of young girls.
Finlei had always scoffed at such tales, but the thought made me shiver.
Have courage, Maia, I reminded myself. If Edan wanted a young girl, he’d have plenty to choose from in the palace.
Besides, the man I saw looked far too young to have traveled the world. I was sure his boasts were hot air and nothing else.
“I’ve never heard of you,” I muttered.
Edan laughed. “You’re skeptical. That’s wise. But odd coming from one so young.”
“My brother told me fairy tales of magic when he…” I couldn’t bring myself to say was alive. My tone darkened. “But that’s what they are…just fairy tales.”
“The A’landans are superstitious people. Constantly praying to their dead ancestors. If you believe in spirits and ghosts, I don’t see why you wouldn’t believe in magic.”
I did believe in magic. I just wouldn’t admit it to him, of all people. “What I believe in is hard work and providing for my family.”
“You’ll do well in that,” Edan said. “I’ve seen your work. Very impressive. I found the shawl especially…interesting.”
That sly look again, as if he knew my secret. My cheeks betrayed me by reddening. No, he couldn’t possibly know. I struggled to sound nonchalant. “What do you know of sewing?”
“What do I know, indeed?” Edan said mischievously. “I seem to bring out the worst in you. With everyone else, you appear to be quite—”
“The xitara?” I said flatly.
Edan laughed. “I was going to say agreeable.”
How I wished he would go away. “Looks are deceiving.”
“I couldn’t have put it better myself.” He grabbed my cane and rapped my leg—the one that was supposed to be irreparably broken—and I cried out.
“Hey!” I was so upset I forgot to keep my voice deep and manly. “Give that back!”
“Why? You don’t need it.”
Scowling, I made a show of limping, holding on to a hedge for support.
Edan tossed me back my cane. He was watching me intently. “You think I haven’t noticed that you favor your right foot half the time, and your left foot the other half? Only a fool would miss it, but to your good fortune, this palace is full of fools.”
My anger evaporated, replaced by fear. “Please don’t—”
“But that’s not the real secret, is it?”
The color drained from my face. I stopped staring down and looked directly into Edan’s eyes. They were amber now, thick and bright as the sap of a tree. They bored into me. “I don’t know what you mean, sir.”
“You’re not Keton Tamarin, and you’re certainly not old Kalsang Tamarin. His two oldest sons died in battle, but I heard he had a daughter who managed the shop quite well during the war….”
My stomach flipped.
Edan leaned closer, his eyes blue and cool yet piercing. I could have sworn they had been yellow only seconds ago. “Would I be correct in presuming you are Maia Tamarin?”
My lips parted, but Edan put a finger to them before I said a word.
“Think carefully before lying to an enchanter,” he warned me. “Sometimes it helps to look in a mirror.” He whisked one out and raised it to my face.
My hand jumped to my mouth. The reflection was me—but with my hair long again, and my brother, the real Keton, behind me.
“What magic is this?” I demanded.
“Simply a reflection of the truth,” he replied. “We enchanters see more than most. I knew you weren’t Keton Tamarin. You’re that girl you painted on your shawl.”
I pushed aside the mirror. “I was trying to paint Lady Sarnai.”
“Hmm,” he said, studying me. “The resemblance isn’t striking, but it’s there. Curious.”
“There is no resemblance,” I snapped. “I’m not a girl.”
“I’m not going to tell anyone.”
“You think I trust you?”
“You should.” Edan loosened his collar. It was high and looked uncomfortable, given the heat, but there was no perspiration on his forehead. I was wearing my lightest linen and already sweating. “Come, what keeps you from trusting me?”
I could think of a thousand reasons, so I had no idea what possessed me to blurt, “My…my brother said that sorcerers drink the blood of young girls.”
Edan simply burst out laughing. When he collected himself, he said, rather sternly, “The trial is down to four tailors. If you’re going to win, it’s time to show off a little.”
My brows furrowed, and I lowered my defenses. “You told me my shawl was too good.”
“For the first challenge,” Edan corrected. “I didn’t mean for you to become so underwhelming for the second one.”
“I wasn’t—” I groaned. There was no point in trying to explain to him how difficult it was to create a miracle in three days—without using magical scissors, anyway. “Why do you want me to win?” I asked instead.
He smiled mysteriously. “An enchanter never reveals his intentions. Let’s just say”—he pulled out my scissors from his sleeve—“these wouldn’t belong to any ordinary seamstress.”
“How did you get those?” I stood on my toes, reaching to get the scissors back. “Those are mine!”
“So there is some fire in you.” His smile widened. “Why should I give them back? Are they special to you?”
My pulse quickened. Those scissors worked miracles. I couldn’t allow the emperor’s Lord Enchanter to learn my other secret and get me kicked out of the trial.
“My father gave them to me,” I said, still reaching.
“Anything else special about them?”
“No,” I insisted.
He lowered the scissors an inch. “Say please.”
“Please,” I said grudgingly.
Edan held them out. I snatched the scissors back and thrust them into my pocket.
“You’re not a good liar, Maia Tamarin.” Edan tilted his head. “Those scissors are charmed. Any enchanter could smell their magic on you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I turned to go, but Edan blocked my path. “The slippers you made were very good, but with the scissors, you could have put Yindi, Norbu, and Longhai to shame.” Still not letting me pass, he crouched so our eyes were level. “If you think I’m going to send you home for it, you’re quite mistaken. You’ve piqued my curiosity, Master Tamarin. Enchanted objects do not work for just anyone.”
“What would you know about it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice sharp even though I was secretly curious.
“Plenty.” Edan chuckled. “If you want to win the trial, xitara, you’re going to need my help.”
I bristled at his arrogance. “Will you stop calling me that?”
“You don’t like it?”
“Why would I like being called a little lamb?”
“Ah. You know your Old A’landan.” Looking suddenly amused, Edan tapped his chin. It was pointed, despite the squareness of his jaw. Not an unpleasing combination—but odd all the same. “I’ll consider it—if you win.”
; “I will win,” I replied. “And without your help.”
“You’re a strange one, you know.” He watched me with crossed arms and a smirk. “When the other tailors arrived, they tried their best to bribe me with jewels, silks, furs, even one of their daughters—all for some help. But you refuse when I give it freely.”
“You’re not helping me,” I said through my teeth. “You’re tormenting me.”
That dry chuckle again. “As you say, Master Tamarin. But a suggestion—try putting a pebble in your shoe so you at least remember which leg is supposed to be broken.”
With that, he bowed to me as if I were as highborn a lady as the emperor’s bride-to-be. Then he walked away, whistling a tune.
Accept help from someone so insufferable? I scoffed.
That he would even suggest it baffled me.
I turned on my heel, refusing to glance back at him. But I did watch my footing for the rest of the day—and hoped, anxiously, that I could trust him to keep my secrets.
CHAPTER NINE
The next morning was blisteringly hot, which was no excuse for Yindi and Norbu to lounge about the hall with their shirts off, but they did it anyway. I averted my eyes, especially from Norbu, whose hairy belly really wasn’t something I wanted to see.
For once I was grateful when Minister Lorsa arrived to announce our next challenge.
“His Majesty will soon have the pleasure of welcoming important dignitaries from the Far West. As such, Her Highness, Lady Sarnai, requires new clothes to greet them. She is aware that you are all capable of sewing garments in our local A’landan style, but she wishes to explore your range. The tailor who makes her a jacket that best embodies the Spice Road from one end to the other will win this challenge.”
My mind was already reeling. A’landi was the eastern end of the Great Spice Road, and Frevera the western end. What little I knew of fashion on that side of the world meant plunging necklines, a prince’s ransom of lace and brocade, and tight bodices—the opposite of A’landi’s modest, flowing styles.
Spin the Dawn Page 8
