I tried to focus on other things. Having idle hands always made me anxious, so I busied myself with knitting a sweater. I was fast, and when I finished, I unraveled the yarn and knit another one, and then I practiced my embroidery on a scrap of cotton.
Minister Lorsa never answered the few questions I ventured to ask, and he made no conversation. He slept as much as a bear, and he smelled twice as bad. Everything he ate, he burped out, so I spent most of the trip with my head out the carriage window, savoring the changing smells of A’landi’s terrain as I knit.
On the fifth day, I spotted the Summer Palace in the distance. It was the size of my thumbnail from where the carriage was, and lay cradled in a large valley along the Jingan River, between the Singing Mountains. I had heard tales of its grandeur—its sloping golden roofs, vermillion pillars, and ivory walls—and I trembled with excitement, staring as it gradually became larger and more real to me.
Above us, a hawk soared, black but for the tips of its wings, which looked brushed with snow. Something gold glinted on its talons—like a ring or a bracelet.
“What an odd bird,” I mused. “Is it the emperor’s? It must be…with that cuff. What is it doing so far from the woodlands?”
My voice stirred the sleeping Lorsa, and he scowled at me for waking him.
“Look,” I said, pointing out the window. “A hawk.”
“An annoyance,” he muttered as the hawk let out a cry. “Cursed bird.”
The hawk dipped, spreading its great wings as it swooped beside the carriage. It was so close I could see its eyes. They glowed yellow and were sharply intelligent—they caught my gaze and held it, as if the bird were studying my features and marking me.
I stared back. The hawk’s expression was—almost human.
Mesmerized, I reached my fingers out to stroke its throat. With a sudden jerk, the hawk darted away. It soared back into the sky, disappearing behind a tree on the palace grounds.
The carriage dropped us off at the base of a hill. Wisteria vines swayed in the gentle breeze, scenting the air around the eighty-eight steps to the servants’ entrance. The ascent, I later learned, was a way of keeping us in our place and reminding us we were far below Emperor Khanujin, the Son of Heaven.
I stretched my legs and let out a small groan, feeling the stiffness in my calves from sitting for so long.
“There’s no one to carry you up the steps,” Lorsa said with a smirk.
I didn’t understand what he meant until I remembered I was holding Keton’s cane. “Oh. Don’t worry about me.”
Lorsa certainly didn’t. He swept up the steps, leaving me behind.
I hurried after him. Even though my shoulders ached from carrying my belongings, and my legs twisted and turned—confused by how to use Keton’s cane—I didn’t stop to rest.
This was where it would begin. Where I would restore honor to my family’s name. Where I would prove that a girlcouldbe the best tailor in A’landi.
• • •
The Summer Palace was a maze of golden-roofed pavilions, winding cobblestone paths, and brilliantly designed gardens. Blossoms in every shade of pink and purple bloomed, and butterflies flitted about.
Everywhere I looked were men in gray-and-navy tunics with long, thin black beards. Servants and minor officials, they walked slightly stooped, as if ready to bow at any moment. In contrast, the eunuchs in bright blue moved with their backs straight as needles, holding closed fans at their sides. A few welcomed me with kind smiles before Lorsa glared at them, but it was enough to make me breathe easier. Maybe not everyone in the palace was as unpleasant as Lorsa.
A maid passed, carrying a platter of almond cookies and steaming chestnut cakes, and my stomach grumbled as I followed Lorsa along the narrow path. The buildings became more tightly spaced, the trees and bushes slightly less manicured. We’d arrived at the servants’ quarters.
Lorsa was impatient when I finally caught up with him in front of a wide, open archway. “This is the Hall of Supreme Diligence,” he announced, “where you shall work.”
I limped inside, greeted at the entrance by life-sized statues of the Three Great Sages, A’landi’s legendary scholars. The hall’s floor was cool as porcelain, the walls hung with painted scrolls: most of His Imperial Majesty’s favorite aphorisms, and others of peonies and catfish and cranes. The open-air latticed windows let in sounds of the real birds outside. No hawks, but plenty of larks and thrushes, even as the evening fell.
It was the largest room I’d ever been in—at least ten times bigger than Calu’s father’s kitchen, and three times the size of Port Kamalan’s temple. There were spinning wheels in the corner of the hall, and twelve tables, each equipped with a weaving loom, an embroidery frame, and a basket full of threads, needles, and pins. Workstations were separated by folding wooden screens with hooks for hanging and draping cloth.
Eleven tailors were seated already at their stations, and they stared at me, whispering.
I started to lower my gaze, then raised my chin and frowned.
“Are these also imperial tailors?” I asked Lorsa, hobbling as quickly as I could behind him.
“There will be only one.” The eunuch continued to the other side of the hall, the side with less sunshine. He pointed at a table. “This will be your station until you are dismissed.”
Dismissed?“I’m sorry, sir. I’m confused.”
