I whirled to face the enchanter. For once, no grin tilted his mouth, no mischief twinkled in his eye. Instead he stood, his arms folded, and fixed me with a solemn look.
I hesitated. “Did you really make everyone forget that I’m a girl?”
He bent his head to the side. “Whatever His Majesty wishes will be done.”
“Just like that?” I frowned. “With a wave of your hand. Or a snap of your fingers.”
Edan shrugged. He looked tired, the area around his eyes weary and dark. I wondered whether the magic he’d cast to make everyone forget I was a girl explained the shadows clinging to his face.
“It’s a bit more complicated than that” was all he would say. Before I could respond, he gestured at the passageway leading to the main chamber. “Come with me.”
I followed nervously, treading across the carpet as if I were moving through a thicket of thorns. I recognized a few faces: Minister Lorsa, Lady Sarnai, and Emperor Khanujin. Lord Xina, who, as Ammi had mentioned, was visiting. The other members of the court were strangers to me: eunuchs, important officials, and one or two foreign dignitaries.
I kept waiting for someone to shout, “She’s a girl! She’s an impostor!” But it was as Edan had promised: no one blinked twice at my name, or at my face.
Still, each step was heavier than the last. When I finally reached the emperor’s throne, I was breathing hard, as if I had walked a hundred miles, not a hundred steps.
“The trial has come to an end,” Emperor Khanujin announced as I knelt before him. “I have decided to award the position of imperial tailor to Keton Tamarin, who will receive a remittance of twenty thousand jens a year.”
Twenty thousand jens a year!For a moment, I let myself revel in knowing that Baba and Keton would never starve again. That now I was a master, one whose skill no one could doubt.
“Rise, Master Tamarin,” continued the emperor. “Now that you serve the Son of Heaven as a tailor of the imperial realm, you are a master of your craft to all.”
I forced a smile as I stood. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Thankyou, Master Tamarin,” Emperor Khanujin said. His ministers and officials echoed the words. “Lady Sarnai, you asked that I find the most talented tailor in A’landi to sew a wedding garment for you. Master Tamarin is yours to command.”
Lady Sarnai said nothing. Like Edan, she stood beside the emperor’s throne, but she was staring at something—or someone—so hard I thought her gaze might pierce the walls. I could not see who had captured her attention, but I did recognize the man’s voice. It was deep, each word like a growl.
“The shansen wishes to know when the marriage will proceed,” said Lord Xina, “and whether Lady Sarnai’s conditions have been met.”
I tensed, wondering if I’d imagined a note of anguish in his words. How must it feel for him, knowing that Lady Sarnai’s tactics to delay her marriage to the emperor had failed, and that the woman he loved would soon be wed to another man?
“You may report to the shansen that his daughter requests a wedding dress,” the emperor replied tersely, “to be completed by—”
Lady Sarnai suddenly spoke. “There will bethreedresses.”
Her gaze left Lord Xina and settled on me. There was a gleam in her eyes that I did not like.
A murmur of terror bubbled in my chest. Slowly, the shansen’s daughter glided down the three steps from the emperor’s throne until she was level with me, so close I could smell the jasmine oil used to perfume her hair. So close I could see the glimmer of confusion flicker across her brow when she held me in her gaze.
I held my breath, knowing exactly what she was trying to remember. Edan’s enchantment had worked on everyone else, but if Lady Sarnai—
Her expression cleared, and she shook off whatever bothered her about me. It wasn’t as important as what she wanted to say.
“Perhaps you know the legend of the god of thieves?” she asked. “He was so skilled he boasted that he could steal Amana’s children: the sun, the moon, and the stars. The gods laughed at him, but he was undeterred. He captured the first two of Amana’s children easily, but the stars—they danced in the sky and were difficult to catch. So he shot arrows into them, and caught their essence as they bled into the sky. Amana was so enraged that she buried the world in darkness. Even when the god of thieves gave back what he had stolen, she was not appeased.
“So he called upon Heaven’s tailor to make Amana a gift. He had kept slivers of the sun, the moon, and the stars, and he asked the tailor to make three dresses so beautiful they blinded the mortal eye. The tailor succeeded. The dresses were so dazzling Amana forgave the thief and returned light to the world, but only for half the day—for the fragments the thief had given to make the dresses meant the day could never be whole again. A lesson never to anger the mother goddess.”
Lady Sarnai paused now, and her red lips formed a dangerous smile. “You are the best tailor in A’landi, Master Tamarin. Make me the dresses of Amana.”
I heard Lady Sarnai’s mocking tone and struggled to stay calm.Everytailor knew the story of Amana’s dresses. And every tailor knew that no human hands had ever made them.
“One woven with the laughter of the sun,” I whispered. “Another embroidered with the tears of the moon, and lastly, one painted with the blood of the stars.”
“As I understand it,” said Lady Sarnai calmly, “you will need to journey far to acquire the necessary materials for each gown.”
“But Your Highness,” I blurted, “these dresses are myths. One cannot spin sunlight into thread, nor moonlight—”
