sigh, I continued alone. The trek from the palace into Niyan wasn’t easy—eighty-eight steps down from the palace, then two hundred more steps down Chrysanthemum Hill. Another mile below sprawled Tangsah Marketplace.
Despite the breeze from the nearby Jingan River, the humidity gathered on my temples, pearls of sweat dripping down my cheeks onto my shoulders. The pins I used to fasten the bindings around my chest pricked my side, and I couldn’t help rubbing my irritated skin. My bandages smelled and chafed, but I forgot about my discomfort as soon as I saw Tangsah.
I hadn’t been in a real marketplace since we’d lived in Gangsun. Vendors stretched from street to street, some in bright sloping tents in every shade of orange, some in carts trundling down the paved roads. Ahead were jade carvers, drapery masters, and glassblowers, interspersed with donkeys and wild chickens and children milling about, and farther out were acrobats and fire-eaters. There was no order to the market, but I already loved it.
“Quite the spectacle, isn’t it?” Longhai said, reappearing at my side. “It’s second only to the capital.” He pointed at the far side of Tangsah Marketplace and added, “The merchants in the silk quarter will try to cheat you when they find out you’re working in the palace. Don’t pay more than half what they’re asking. And don’t act like it’s your first time here.”
I shifted the weight from my foot to my cane. “Is it that obvious?”
“Yes,” Longhai said. He paused. “You have real talent, Keton, but you’re young. If we weren’t in this silly competition, I would take you to be my apprentice.” He shrugged his wide shoulders. “This contest wearies me. We are craftsmen. We should learn from one another, not cut each other’s throats.”
Before I could reply, Norbu slipped between us. “Are you coming to the alehouse with us, young Tamarin? I’ll buy you a drink, if it means learning your embroidery secrets. That shawl was marvelous.”
I fumbled with my cane. “I need to spend the day buying supplies.”
“Such a killjoy.” Yindi sniffed. “We have the day off and three hundred jens each. We should enjoy it.”
“Easy for you to say,” Longhai said. “You won the last two challenges. I’m rather inclined to follow young Tamarin myself.”
But he didn’t. Longhai had a weakness for drink. I had a feeling Yindi and Norbu were using it against him.
“Aren’t you hot wearing all that?” Yindi said, waving at my tunic. I’d been wearing at least three layers to help obscure my chest.
“This is cool weather to me,” I lied, hoping he wouldn’t notice the sweat pooling on the back of my neck.
Yindi crossed his arms, his flat, pudgy nose wrinkling as usual. “You’re an odd one, Tamarin.” He shook his head and disappeared into the drinking house with Norbu.
I stole a peek inside: it was full of men, some gambling at tiles and others drunkenly reciting poetry. In the center was Norbu, hobnobbing with the magistrates and nobles while his servant did his shopping.
“Doesn’t he ever work?” I asked Longhai before he too went inside.
“Don’t underestimate Norbu,” Longhai said. “How do you think he is the richest tailor in A’landi? Certainly not by spending all day at the loom.”
I retreated to the shade of a tangerine farmer’s tent and stared at my map. Then I tightened my money pouch around my neck; Tangsah was infamous for its pickpockets.
Passing several bakers’ shops and tents, I spied sesame cakes and honeycomb cookies. The palace fed me well, but there was nothing like honeycomb cookies fresh off the griddle.
I shook off the craving. Silk, not cookies, I reminded myself. Thread, not cakes.
With renewed determination, I set out to buy my supplies. After a few hours, my basket was heavy. I’d used up almost all the money Lorsa had given us on dyes, new needles, gold foil to make metallic thread, and a smaller frame for more intricate embroidery.
I had two jens and thirty fen left. Just enough to buy myself some lunch. I stopped by the baker whose steamed vegetable buns looked and smelled freshest, and got an apple from the farmer next door with my remaining fen.
There was a tap on my basket, and I jerked back, immediately assuming it was a pickpocket. It was Edan.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
“Why do you need any of this when you have those scissors of yours?” he said, frowning at the contents of my basket.