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. Every tailor 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—”
“Have you ever tried?”
I swallowed hard. “No, Your Highness.”
“I am aware that many have tried and failed to make these three gowns. Pray your fate will be different.”
They hadn’t just failed. They had disappeared or died—all pursuing something that couldn’t be done. And for what? So many legends surrounded the dresses. Some said Amana would grant a wish—no matter how impossible—to the tailor who made them. Others said the dresses would awaken unspeakable power, enough to bring about the end of the world.
I suppressed a shudder. “Yes, Your Highness.”
“My father will arrive the night of the red sun. That will give you a good month for each dress. I’m sure the emperor has informed you how important this task is, and what happens if you fail.” Her tone hardened. “Do not disappoint me.”
“All the palace’s resources will be available to you, Master Tamarin,” said the emperor, sounding unfazed by Lady Sarnai’s demands.
I was hardly listening. All the jens in the world would not buy me the sun and the moon and the stars. What she was asking was impossible!
Lady Sarnai cocked her head to one side. “You look concerned, Master Tamarin. Perhaps the Lord Enchanter can be persuaded to aid you.”
A shiver twisted down my spine. Lady Sarnai had wanted me to spy on Edan before, and now she wanted me to ask for his help. It couldn’t be a good change of heart—not for either of us.
I folded my arms and bowed, hoping my bent head would hide my rising panic.
“Lord Enchanter,” she said, “my young tailor is about to embark on a journey to procure materials for my three dresses. Can he count on your assistance?”
“I’m afraid, Your Highness,” Edan said, somewhat testily, “that it is impossible for me to leave the emperor’s side for a prolonged period.”
“Ah, you don’t trust your precious Khanujin with me. It bothers you, doesn’t it, that I haven’t fallen for his charms. Perhaps if you’re not here, things might be different.”
A dark look flickered across the emperor’s face, and I heard a chorus of stifled gasps behind me. But Edan remained composed. “With all due respect, Your Highness, I must refuse.”
Lady Sarnai clucked her tongue. “A pity. You may be the only one who could help poor Master Tamarin. He finds my request quite daunting.”
“Perhaps you should change it, then.” Edan’s mouth set in a thin line as he finally regarded me. “The imperial tailor’s skill with the thread and needle is beyond compare. I’m certain he could design something else that would please you.”
“Unfortunately, my mind is made up,” Lady Sarnai said. “I desire Amana’s dresses. I have the utmost confidence that Master Tamarin has the talent necessary to sew them. Think how disappointed His Majesty would be if the truce fell apart because our young tailor perished before he could make my wedding dresses.”
“Disappointed indeed.” Emperor Khanujin spoke for him. “But the Lord Enchanter best serves the realm while at my side.”
Edan’s fists curled, but his expression didn’t change. He bowed his head, listening as the emperor continued: “I will confer with Edan this afternoon as to how best to satisfy your request. Now, if there is nothing else, Lady Sarnai, my ministers and I have other matters to attend to.”
“Master Tamarin, do you have any questions?” she asked.
“No,” I whispered, slightly dazed.
“Then there is nothing else.” Lady Sarnai smiled sweetly and fluttered her hands to dismiss me. To my surprise, Edan followed.
“I can’t go with you,” he hissed once we were outside.
“I didn’t ask you to,” I shot back. “I know it’s an impossible task, even for you.”
His face folded into a mask of rage. I’d never seen him angry before. It frightened me how black his eyes became, like onyx, too dark to penetrate. “It’s not impossible; it’s a trap meant to get me away from Khanujin, to send me on a fool’s errand.”
“Then I’ll go alone,” I retorted.
He gritted his teeth. “No, you don’t understand. The emperor has threatened to execute you if you fail. But he wouldn’t need to. Most likely, you’ll be killed on your quest.”
Killed. Like Finlei and Sendo. They died in the service of A’landi, just as I would.
I bit the inside of my lip, but I wouldn’t let Edan’s warning dissuade me. “Making Amana’s dresses…it’s never been done. I assumed it would be impossible. But you just said it wasn’t.”
“That doesn’t mean it should be done.”
“Then help me,” I said. “At least tell me: Where can I find sunlight so pure it can be spun? And moonlight so dense it can be woven? And the blood of stars…I don’t even know where to begin with that one.”
We found ourselves crossing a pond, and Edan stopped to lean on the rail of the wooden bridge, his lips pursed. “Let’s start with the sun,” he said finally. “To the lucky few who’ve seen one, a Niwa spider is known as a golden wheel spider. The silk from its webs is worth thousands of jens per ounce, because it is fire-resistant, among other things. A useful characteristic when one is seeking to gather the laughter of the sun.”
Hope bubbled in my chest. “So where can I find a Niwa spider?”
“In the Halakmarat Desert. They’re rare, but finding one is only the first step.” Edan pulled away from the bridge to face me. “You should leave,” he said quietly. “Run away.”
His tone surprised me. He sounded almost…concerned. “My father and brother are counting on me.” I swallowed. “His Majesty said I need to fulfill Lady Sarnai’s demands or else he’ll…” My voice drifted off. He’ll kill them.
Edan sighed. “Then I’ll come with you.”
I looked up at him, startled. “I thought you said you couldn’t leave the emperor.”
“I shouldn’t,” he corrected. “Despite my title, I’m hardly more than a servant myself,” he added bitterly. “One who needs permission from Khanujin to leave his side.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he went on. “Helping you is the best way to ensure that war does not break out again. Besides, His Majesty would not refuse you an escort.”
I blushed. “Even if that escort is you?”
“I’m hoping if I word my request carefully enough, he won’t forbid me specifically to come with you.”
“Why won’t he give you permission to leave?”
Edan grimaced. “It’s complicated. I protect A’landi by serving the emperor. If I leave, Khanujin will be vulnerable. He doesn’t like being vulnerable.”
“But—”
“That’s all you need to know. Don’t pry into my affairs, Maia. You’ll find yourself in a dangerous position.”
He seemed unusually on edge. “I’m planning to leave tomorrow,” I said.
“We’ll leave in three days,” he corrected, tapping the lantern on one edge of the bridge. The wobbling light made the water in the pond flicker.
Three days? I frowned. I was eager to leave the palace, which was starting to feel more like a cage ea
ch day.
“I’ll need time to prepare for the journey,” he went on. “I’ll give you a list of the things you’ll need.”
“I know what I need. The laughter of the sun, the tears of the moon, and the blood of the stars.”
“Precisely,” Edan said, not detecting my sarcasm. “It takes a while to devise a plan to acquire all those things. You use the time wisely. Spin or stitch or whatever it is you need to do.”
“I don’t have anything to sew with yet…which is why I need to set out as soon as possible.”
Edan considered this. “Day after tomorrow, then,” he compromised. “I’ll seek you out with the list when I’m ready.”
* * *
• • •
True to his word, he came to find me the next day just after sunrise. I was awake and already sketching. From the slight rise in his brow, I guessed he was impressed.
“You’re up early,” he said.
“I’m always up early.”
“Here,” he said, passing me a thin piece of parchment.
“ ‘Walnuts from the kitchen,’ ” I read with surprise. “Walnuts?”
“Ask for the largest ones possible. I’ll need three—no, make that four. Read on.”
“ ‘Gloves, to be knit from spider silk—’ ”
“You’ll have to make those,” he interrupted, “first thing—the desert will be our initial stop.”
“ ‘Sturdy shoes, preferably made of leather, with sturdy laces. A carpet with some fringes, one color or two, will be sufficient.’ ” I frowned. “Why do we need a carpet?”
“The shoes and carpet, you’ll have to make too,” Edan said instead of explaining. “Guess you’ll be busy.”
“Lastly, my scissors.” I set the list down. “Can I ask you something? Why is Lady Sarnai so fixated on these enchanted dresses if she hates magic?”
“Because she doesn’t believe you can make them,” Edan said tightly. “Because she’s hoping we’ll die on the trip.” A bit more cheerfully, he added, “We’ll just have to prove her wrong, won’t we?”
“I’m not sure I believe they can be made.”
“Tell me,” Edan said, “for a girl with so much imagination, why are you so skeptical of magic?”
“I’m not skeptical. Not anymore. I just don’t trust it.”
“Disappointing,” Edan murmured. “After all the times it’s saved you.”
I heaved a sigh, feeling I owed him an explanation. “I don’t even trust the gods. Not to listen, anyway. My father prays to Amana every morning, every night. When my brothers went to war, I prayed too—to every god, then to every fairy, every spirit I could think of—to bring them back from the war safe. But Finlei and Sendo died, and Keton—” A lump rose in my throat, strangling my words. “He came home, but he may never walk again. What is there left to believe?”
“It is wishful thinking to hope the gods might listen to you.” Edan’s tone was gentle. “Just as others are naïve to think magic works miracles. It is not always so. But…” He paused, a grin forming on his lips. “But sometimes, especially at the hands of a powerful enchanter such as myself, miracles do happen. Perhaps on our journey, we will find a way to help your family.”
I thought of how Edan had healed my hand. Maybe there was some hope for Keton. And Baba.
“The journey shouldn’t take longer than two months. Which should leave you a good three weeks to make the gowns after we return.”
The idea of two months alone with Edan made me nervous. I fidgeted as if I were sitting on a pincushion. “Maybe we could join a caravan.”
“With strangers?” Edan said. “Best not to attract attention. There shouldn’t be too many bandits along the Spice Road this time of year, but we can’t take any chances. We’ll be faster on our own. So while I know you must be itching to discard your”—he looked me up and down—“your manly disguise, it might be wise to retain it a little longer.” He tilted his head, considering. “Though trading in the Samarand Passage would be easier if you were a girl.”
I folded my arms over my chest. “Why?”
“I could barter you for at least five camels,” Edan mused. “Steal you back after a few hours before the merchant makes you one of his wives.”
I balked. “There is no way—”
“Fine, stay a boy.” He hid a smile at my distress.
“I can manage,” I said stiffly. “Where are we going?”
“To three corners of the continent,” Edan said. “For sunlight, we’ll go west through the Samarand Passage into the Halakmarat Desert, then north to the border of Agoria for moonlight, then, for the stars, south to the Forgotten Isles of Lapzur in Lake Paduan.” He turned for the door. “We’ll purchase what you’ll need to make everything on the list. And Maia…” He lingered on my name. “Bring the scissors.”
“I said I would.”
“Just making sure you don’t forget.” He winked. “You’ll need them.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
For once, Edan didn’t sneak up on me. He arrived at the palace gates punctually at dawn the next day, leading two sturdy, well-fed horses, packed and saddled.
He’d traded his usual all-black attire for an ill-fitting, dull green tunic and trousers that had seen better days. His hair was hidden under a tawny muslin cloak, stray curls escaping from the hood. Several leather pouches dangled off his belt, a satchel was slung on his left shoulder, and under his arm he carried a thick stack of books belted tightly together.
“I hardly recognize you without your court finery,” I greeted him. “I didn’t think you owned anything except black silk.”
“I thought it wise not to look too prosperous,” Edan replied, stifling a yawn. “I welcome any opportunity to sleep a few extra minutes rather than dress finely. Mornings don’t become me.”
“I can see that.”
The sun was beginning to pierce the mantle of fog above us. Edan loaded the books onto his horse’s back, then threw a glance over his shoulder.
“We should go,” he said. “The guards are half asleep now, and I’d rather not have to waste more magic or face their questioning when they’re alert.”
So he hadn’t told His Majesty he was coming with me.
He helped me onto my saddle and handed me a pair of leather straps. “Pull back to stop, left or right to turn. Don’t let go.”
I gripped the reins. “How do you know I’ve never ridden a horse before?”
He pointed at how stiffly I sat on my saddle, and at how my feet were digging into my poor horse’s body. “Relax, and give a good kick with your heels when you need to go. Don’t fall asleep or you’ll fall off.”
I nodded and timidly patted my horse’s mane. His coat was deep amber, like the sands of the desert we would be passing through. “What’s his name?”
“Pumpkin.”
“And yours?”
Edan flashed a grin at his horse, which was significantly larger than mine and had a beautiful black coat with a silvery mane. “Valiant Grace.”
“Naturally,” I muttered as he leapt onto his saddle with one elegant motion and was off.
I gave Pumpkin a kick, but he neighed and tried to unseat me before setting off with a lurch. I clung to him, bouncing awkwardly as he trotted on. At least he knew to follow Edan.
* * *
• • •
It felt like forever before Edan called for a break. “We won’t take as many after today,” he warned me.
“I’m not…tired,” I said between breaths. “We can…keep…going.”
Edan cast me a knowing look. “Five minutes. Sit up straight and catch your breath.”
I rolled my neck back and stretched my legs, already sore from only an hour of riding. To my dismay, we were barely out of Niyan! I could still see the faint outline of the Summer Palac
e in the distance, tiny as a butterfly, its sloping golden roofs and scarlet gates bright specks before the expansive city. I gulped. “How many days until the Samarand Passage?”
“Three,” Edan replied. “But at the pace we’re going now, maybe seven.”
I winced.
“We’ll trade the horses for camels once we get there. The Halakmarat Desert begins on the cusp of A’landi’s borders; we’ll have to go some way into the desert if we hope to find a golden wheel spider.” He fished in a pocket for his map. “Deeper still to reach the Temple of the Sun.”
I stared at the map in disbelief. “Two months won’t be enough time to make this journey.”
“Trust me,” Edan said, rolling up the map. “It will be a little tight, but I’ve allowed for one or two…shortcuts.” He noted my skepticism. “Magical ones. You’ll see.”
I inhaled, basking in the cool breeze from the Jingan River. “I hope so.”
The Great Spice Road began wide. The farther we traveled, the narrower it became, but Edan was constantly ten paces ahead of me, so riding side by side was never an issue. We’d left early enough that traffic consisted of only a few local merchants pushing wheelbarrows, and it would only get lighter, since we were taking the southern fork of the Road through the Halakmarat Desert, which was less traveled and less patrolled.
Once I stopped worrying if I’d fall off Pumpkin every other minute, I ambitiously took out my needlework to work on a pattern for Lady Sarnai’s first dress. A futile endeavor. It was impossible to keep a steady hand while on horseback.
Frustrated, I gave up on sewing and watched the land around me change.
As we traveled deeper inland, the sun burned my back, gnats bit my fingers so many times they itched like mad, and the cool breeze from the river disappeared. I should have been miserable, but the landscape left me breathless. Rocks as red as the setting sun, lizards that dashed through the soft peaked dunes, their eyes bulging whenever they stopped to stare at me, and trees that grew shorter and shorter, until their roots lay supine over the coarse earth.
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