Page 68 of Awakened Ash and Alchemy

Z

The message dissolved back into a single filament, then simply threaded itself into the silver embroidery on the cuff of her gown, as if it had always been there.

“The thread caught on my sleeve.” Was that even the right way to describe it?

Tamarr nodded with a bright smile. “It recognized the weave of the threads on your sleeve as identification.”

“Huh?”

“If I may, Miss.” Tamarr pointed to her sleeve.

“Please, interpret away.” Angela held out her arms. The patterns on the cuffs were almost identical.

Tamarr studied them with the careful attention of someone reading a document rather than admiring the embroidery. “The thread along the cuff’s edge makes up the outermost band, this is the communication thread. Anyone with the same weave in their cuffs can send and receive. Think of it as—” she paused, searching for the words. “Like an address, Miss. That is why it caught on your cuffs. It recognized the weave.”

“Like a postal code, or a phone number?”

Tamarr shrugged. “I don’t know what that is, Miss, but if it means what I think it means—yes. I guess.”

Angela twisted her wrists to inspect the cuffs of her gown’s sleeves. “What about the pattern along the cuffs themselves? The geometric part?”

“Those are the lineage threads. The pattern is specific to the houses, like a bloodline. It tells everyone who you belong to, or whose protection you are under. It’s also where they put the marriage rune.”

Angela tapped on the lineage row of threads. “Whose pattern is this? I’ve seen it before.”

“Why, it’s the Captain’s, Miss.”

“Is that common? For someone to wear another person’s lineage pattern?”

“It is not uncommon.” Tamarr hesitated.

“I’ve noticed different colored threads on different people. What do they mean?”

Tamarr seemed relieved to be back on less complicated ground. “Silver is for the Vanguard. And they have their own lineage patterns based on rank and service.” She briefly touched her own plain white shirt sleeve. “A white thread message can be sent to anyone from anywhere, like at the markets. It carries no lineage. No rank.”

“Like a coffee shop with free Wi-Fi or the old internet cafes for emails.” Angela wanted to smack her own forehead. She was supposed to be keeping where she came from a secret. Come on, she knew all about tact and confidentiality, to not be so careless like this.

Again, Tamarr paused as if to add that to her growing file of Angela’s unexplained curiosities. “Purple thread is for royalty. Sage is for the Veyllward Sisterhood and the Continuum Council. Green was for the First Houses of the High Fae; sadly, their realm is gone.”

“Gone?”

“Katarra.” Tamarr drew a shape over her chest and blew on her fingertips, like a Catholic woman crossing herself.

“There is sapphire for the River Houses, yellow for the SunneDaeri for sand and summer. Of course there are blends in colors, but most show regions and realms, like sky blue for the DreaVardynn. The Trolles, who are the mining folk of the deep earth, have brown. And well, then you have crimson red through to black for the various layers of the underworld.” Tamarr ticked off her fingers the way you were taught the months of the year in school. “And gold—”

She stopped.

“Gold threads?” Angela prompted.

Tamarr glanced at the ceiling, then back to Angela. “Gold threads belong to those no longer in the living realms, Miss. You know, the celestial realms. And they’re very, very rare. I have not seen them in my time.”

Before Angela could ask what that meant—

“Do I need to take you somewhere, Miss?”

“The War Chamber?” She shrugged, uncertain which direction to take in this labyrinth of a castle.

“This way, Miss.”