“His Majesty’s soldiers are here?” I asked, my blood turning cold.
“They left a few days ago, after it was announced the war had begun again. They are marching north to defend the Winter Palace. It’s said the shansen’s army is gathered there.”
A mix of relief and dread came over me. “I was there.”
“They won’t be back to look for you,” Longhai assured me.
All I could manage was a meager smile. I’d expected a hundred men and women under his employ, but there were only a handful of seamstresses tittering by the cutting tables. Now I knew why.
“Do you know where the conscription officers are headed next?”
Please don’t say south, I silently pleaded. Not to Port Kamalan.
“I don’t know,” Longhai replied. “You look worried, Master Tamarin.”
“For my brother. The only one I have left.”
The older tailor eyed me. “The real Keton?”
“It was he who was badly injured in the war,” I said grimly. “I took his place to come to the trial. I’ve already lost two brothers to the war. I fear if there’s another…” I couldn’t finish my thought. My hands fell to my sides.
“The war took my companion as well,” said Longhai quietly. “He was dearer to me than anyone in the world.”
I looked up at him. I hadn’t known. “Oh, Master Longhai…”
He spoke over me, “Time eases all wounds, even ones to the heart. All I pray now is that my sons will have a kinder fate. And your brother.”
I didn’t dare pray. Who knew whether it would be gods or demons that listened to me? But I nodded.
“You should write to Keton and your father. Even a few words will ease their worry—I speak as a father, and as a friend. I will have the letter sent discreetly.”
“Thank you, Master Longhai,” I said softly. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you. For letting us stay here…and for being so kind to me during the trial. You should consider yourself fortunate you did not win.”
“I heard she asked you to make the dresses of Amana,” Longhai said slowly. “Did you truly succeed?”
Now I hesitated. “I did.”
“What I would give to see them.”
I didn’t tell him I had the remaining two with me in my amulet. That secret I kept even from Ammi.
“They were supposed to bring peace,” I said at last. “But I’m beginning to believe it would have been better if I’d never made them at all. If I’d stayed in Port Kamalan and never come to the palace.”
“With your talent?” Longhai chuckled. Then, seeing how grim I looked, he sobered. “We do not choose to be tailors; the cloth chooses us. There’s a feeling in our fingers, a feeling in our heart. The gods saw fit for you to bring Amana’s dresses back to this earth. You must believe there is a reason for that, young Tamarin. A good reason.”
I responded with a numb nod. Once I would have believed him.
But it was far too late for me.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Under Madam Su’s care, Ammi made a steady recovery. I wished I could sit by her bedside all day, but I’d promised Longhai I would help with his shop. So, while Ammi rested, I joined his staff in the workroom.
My scissors hummed at my hip while I worked, but I ignored their call. No magic for me today; sewing calmed me, and I needed the distraction. My fingers weren’t as nimble as they’d been a month ago, but the tasks Longhai gave me were simple. I stitched a shirt for a scholar and embroidered butterflies on a pair of slippers for a merchant’s daughter.
No one paid me any heed; there was too much work to be done, and the seamstresses were too busy chatting with one another.
“Ay, I heard Scholar Boudi took on a third concubine last week.”
“Another one? How he’s able to afford his household is beyond me.”
“Yes, yes. And think what will happen if war comes. The price of silk will go high!”
As I sat, listening to their gossip, I thought of the seamstresses I’d left behind in the Hall of Dutiful Mending. I hoped they had survived the shansen’s attack.
At noon, the seamstresses cleared the workroom for lunch. I stayed behind. I hadn’t been hungry in days.
“Aren’t you going to eat, my friend?” asked Longhai, seeing I was still at work. “There’s beef stew with rice noodles for lunch today, a shop favorite.”
I didn’t look up at him. “I’m nearly finished.”
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 like it.”