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.”
Lorsa peered at me. “You didn’t think you were the only tailor called to His Majesty’s attention, did you?”
“O-of course not,” I stammered.
“Surely you did not presume His Majesty would employ a tailor without first testing him?”
I realized my mistake now. How naïve I was to think I’d been chosen—that it would be so effortless to save my family’s honor.
No, no. That wasn’t it at all.
I’d be competing for the position. These eleven other tailors—they were my rivals!
Finding my courage, I looked at them. Each was dressed in his finest. I saw splashes of jade and pearl, velvet coats, brocade scarves with silk tassels, and gold-studded belts…and I suddenly understood why they were staring at me. It wasn’t because of my limp, or that I was the youngest by far.
I was the most poorly dressed! The dye on my shirt was faded, the fabric worn, my pant cuffs rolled to my ankles—and my sleeves far too long.
What kind of tailor couldn’t even hem his own pants and make a shirt that fit?
My cheeks heated, and I bowed my head in shame, fiercely wishing I’d thought to alter Keton’s clothes in the carriage instead of knitting a silly sweater.
I set my basket and satchel on my table and began to unpack my supplies. The tailor across from me said to his neighbor, loudly enough for me to hear, “A hundred jens he’ll be the first one to go.”
A snicker. “Why would I bet against that?”
My face grew hotter, and I glared at them. Then, folding up my sleeves, I sat on my stool and faced Lorsa.
“Now that you twelve are finally assembled,” the minister announced, “we may begin the trial. Only A’landi’s very best tailor is invited to serve the imperial family. Master Huan held the position for thirty years, but his recent passing has left the position empty. His Imperial Majesty, in his infinite wisdom and glory, has invited tailors from across A’landi to compete for this high honor.
“Many of you have already served as court tailors, but the imperial tailor is among the most esteemed and privileged of His Majesty’s loyal servants. It is a position that is held for life and brings much prosperity to the one who is deserving.
“Of the tailors here today, only one will fill the vacancy in His Imperial Majesty’s staff and begin work for Lady Sarnai immediately.”
Lady Sarnai? That didn’t make any sense. “I thought the position was for His Majesty,” I muttered.
“I heard you utter something, Keton Tamarin,” Lorsa said, his beady eyes blinking at me.
I clamped my lips shut. For a dangerous moment, I’d forgotten to sound like my brother. Had Lorsa noticed?
“Speak up if you have something to say.”
“Um.” My mouth became suddenly dry. I cleared my throat and summoned my best deep, male voice. “I was under the impression, sir, that the position was for a tailor for Emperor Khanujin.”