rabble, eh, Longhai?” Yindi said. “Wouldn’t expect any less from you.” He turned back to me. “Are you sure you won’t prick yourself with a needle?” he taunted. “My chin hasn’t been that smooth since I was a child.”
“What happened to that leg of yours?” another tailor chimed in.
The ink on my page smeared. I flipped it and restarted my sketch. People will see what they want to see, I reminded myself. Better a girlish boy than a boyish girl.
“Are you deaf, pretty boy?”
“Or are you only crippled?”
Now I stopped sketching. “I fought in the war. And a broken leg doesn’t mean I can’t use my hands,” I snapped defiantly. “I’d wager I can sew faster than any of you.”
Master Yindi laughed. “We’ll see about that. When I was your age, I was still washing shirts for my master. He wouldn’t let me anywhere close to a loom.” He snorted. “Let me see those hands of yours, pretty boy. I can tell a tailor from a washboy.”
I spread my fingers wide to show my calluses. My brothers used to tease that I’d never find a husband because my fingers were rough as a man’s.
“So?” I said. “A tailor or a washboy?”
Yindi harrumphed and, pinching his beard in one hand, returned to his stool.
Longhai came to my station, resting a hand on top of my screen. “Don’t worry about Yindi,” he said. “He’s all bark.”
“Master Longhai speaks wisely,” Norbu interrupted, to my surprise. He had been quiet, and I hadn’t seen him approach my table. “We won’t get any work done if we waste our time picking on the boy.” He gestured at the statues of the Three Sages. “The gods are listening to us, masters. Do you want to invoke their wrath?”
One by one, the tailors shook their heads. Even Yindi, whose desk dangled with charms to ward off demons and bad luck, frowned.
“Then get back to work.”
Norbu had influence because he owned a shop in the capital, Jappor, with over a hundred tailors under his command. He was the wealthiest of us all, and the most powerful. His daughter had married an important official. He was practically nobility.
“I trust they’ll leave you alone now,” Norbu said once the chatter faded. He smiled at me, and I got the distinct sense I now owed him something.
“Thank you,” I said.
He toyed with the threads I’d set on my table. Norbu reminded me of an overstuffed lizard—his body was long and thin, but his stomach was round, his eyes half open and half shut so they looked deceptively sleepy. He wasn’t mean like Yindi, but I still wished he would leave my things alone.
“We heard that you’re taking your father’s place here in the trial,” he said. “How noble of you. My own baba died before I was born, but Master Huan—the emperor’s last tailor—was like a father to me.”
I folded my hands, which were itching to work, to be polite. “I didn’t realize he was your master.”
“Long ago,” Norbu replied, sniffling. “But it still pained me when they found his body in the Jingan River last month.”
I swallowed. “I’m sorry to hear it.”
“He worked in this very hall, you know, with dozens of his apprentices. Even I came sometimes to assist him.” Norbu paused. “The maids swear his ghost haunts the palace some nights.”
A shiver tingled across my arm. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”
“Neither do I.” Norbu tilted his head, his marblelike eyes studying me. “Worry not about the others, young Tamarin. I’ll keep my eye on you.”
I was relieved when he finally left me alone, and I draped the silk shawl over my arm. Silk was naturally light on the skin. That was what made it so sought after, so expensive.
I was good at painting, like Master Longhai, but embroidery was my strength, like Master Yindi and Master Taraha. I decided to paint a garden and embroider its flowers. Peonies, lilies, and chrysanthemums, with a lady holding a dragonfly on her finger. It was a scene I’d practiced dozens of times, and the paint would dry quickly. With only one day to complete the shawl, now was not the time to take an unnecessary risk.
The hours passed. Painting kept my hands and mind busy, but the endless prattle of the other tailors was a constant hum.
“This is servants’ work,” one grumbled. “I haven’t had to knot tassels since I was a boy.”
“Dyeing is worse.”
“All to be tailor to the traitor’s daughter. What glory is there in that?”