The Five Daughters of the Moon

by Leena Likitalo

  I gripped Celestia’s hand before I realized what I was doing, and forced myself to loosen my hold. She laced her fingers between mine. Our hands were so very cold, even as they had company.

  The witch picked up the cup with both hands and stirred the contents. She brought it up to her blue-tinted lips and exhaled from between her crooked teeth. The exhale lasted for a long time—not as if it came from the bottom of her lungs, but from the bottom of her soles. No, not even from her soles, but from under the creaking floorboards, from the very soil of the empire.

  She lowered the cup to the same level as her heart. A thin wisp of golden mist coiled up from the cup. The cottage filled with the faintest scent of summer, mixed with moments before rain, blending with that of honey pastries and backstreet alleys, and then sharpening to a piercing moment of . . . betrayal. I don’t know why I thought of all these things, but I know I wasn’t mistaken.

  I shuffled even closer to Celestia, farther away from the witch.

  The witch circled the table once more, chanting under her breath. The tone was low, barely more than a growl. But I felt it vibrate under my feet. With each round the witch made, the trembling intensified. Once she started the fifth round, I glanced up, expecting to see the dried herbs and leaves rain upon us. But not a leaf shifted.

  Celestia kissed the side of my head. We shouldn’t say a word, lest the spell might break. Both of us cared too deeply for Alina to risk that, and so we stood there, the thundering of our hearts the only sound we made.

  The witch lowered the cup at Alina’s feet. She formed a cup of flesh with her palms and waited till the golden mist filled it to the brim. When she drifted to offer it to our sister, it seemed to me her feet no longer touched the floor.

  “Part lips,” the witch whispered. “Taste now.”

  And as ordered, Alina’s lips parted. She breathed through her mouth, inhaling the golden mist.

  “Follow trail back to we.”

  Alina’s body tensed, from the tip of her toes to the top of her head—clearly she was going to have another spasming attack! If Celestia hadn’t held on to my arm tight, I would have rushed to Alina. I had to remind myself that I’d chosen to watch. I could have chosen not to. It was too late to regret my choice. Perhaps that was a lesson of sorts to me.

  “Come back,” the witch repeated.

  Alina’s spine arched so steeply that a cat could have leaped between her and the table. The witch brought her hand against my sister’s heart and gently pushed her down. My sister didn’t remain still for long. Her feet and head lifted up, up till she bent like the letter U.

  “Come back to sisters. Come back to world.”

  With these words, Alina went limp. Then a shudder ran through the whole length of her body. Another one. Four of them altogether. She went limp again. The witch smiled.

  “Open eyes.”

  I held my breath, and so did Celestia. For a moment, nothing whatsoever happened, and I feared the witch had failed, that her magic had hurt our sister, that she was lost permanently in the world beyond this one.

  Alina’s eyes flung open. She blinked rapidly, and then she swung up to sit on the table so that she faced Celestia and me. She said, “My eyes are open. They’ve been that way all the time.”

  I rushed to her then, and so did Celestia. We embraced her together, not quite sure how to place our arms. A moment later, Elise and Merile joined the embrace. We held her, each other, kissing temples and foreheads, rejoicing at being five again, being together.

  “It be done.”

  The witch’s croak broke us apart. We shuffled on both sides of Alina, so that she could make her way to our sister. I didn’t exactly want to move farther away from her, but you couldn’t very well oppose a witch’s will. No matter how seeing her might frighten my sister.

  But instead, Alina stared at the witch in childlike fascination. “You are cloaked in shadows.”

  The witch grinned at her, offering a steaming cup. Whether it was the same she’d used before or a different one, I don’t know. To be honest, I don’t even want to guess.

  Alina accepted the cup, but suspicion narrowed her deep-set eyes.

  “Drink it,” the witch said. “No trick hide honey.”

  Alina still hesitated. She tasted just a little. A timid smile spread across her face, and it warmed my heart to such degree I couldn’t even remember how it felt to be cold. “Tastes like summer.”

  It was then that the guards grew impatient. Captain Janlav—for who else would dare—knocked on the door. The knob turned, but the door wouldn’t budge.

  “Men. Always in haste.” The witch glared sideways at the door. To us she said, “Stop feeding little one potions. No shadow ever harm me.”

  The door rattled as if a thunder were about to roll in. The witch tossed a loose end of her shawl over her shoulder. It was then that I realized it wasn’t made of fabric, but a shadow of a cat. Scribs, you must believe me, this is what I saw with my very own eyes.

  The door flung open, and Captain Janlav stumbled in. Noticing that we all were by the table, that we couldn’t have possibly unlocked the door for him, he muttered, “So it was only stuck.”

  Then he noticed Alina, sitting on the table’s edge, dangling her feet in the air. His gaze brightened and his foul mood practically leaked out of his body. “The little one is up?”

  Alina set the cup down next to her. She smiled at Captain Janlav as if he were our brother, not a soldier overseeing our imprisonment. Captain Janlav strode to her and tousled her gray-brown hair. He was so glad to see her well that he didn’t notice the whispered conversation that occurred between Celestia and the witch.

  Scribs, again, I wasn’t eavesdropping, but this is what they said to each other.

  “You.” The witch grabbed Celestia’s arm. She pressed a small leather pouch into her hand. “Unwanted it be now. But later may be none.”

  “A deal is a deal,” Celestia replied, pursing her hand against the witch’s. “Regardless of the cost.”

  And Scribs, that was it. Celestia’s end of the bargain.

  Coldness entered the cottage in the shape of a snowy gust. The guards peered in, one after another, but didn’t dare to enter. Captain Janlav must have told them to wait outside.

  “We should return to the train now,” Captain Janlav said. He must have been afraid of the witch, to a degree at least, for he avoided addressing her.

  I wanted to protest and say that we really could stay longer, but I didn’t. We had to act smart. The witch couldn’t help us. She’d said as much. Now that Alina was well, we should obey the guards meekly, so that when the time came to put Celestia’s plan into action, they wouldn’t see it coming.

  “Piggyback?” Alina asked, of all things!

  Captain Janlav actually laughed. Elise swayed, as if this one sound had been a key to a lock that she’d thought forever rusted shut. He turned his back to our little sister and said, “Hop on then.”

  He didn’t need to urge my sisters and me out. Celestia went first, because she’s the eldest. I followed Elise. Merile came after me with her rats. Not one of us glanced back. Not even me, though I was tempted. Beard held the rear, seemingly relieved that we hadn’t attempted to flee. The witch didn’t call after us, didn’t dash out of her cottage at the last moment, nothing like that. Why would she have?

  We retraced our footprints to the train. I don’t know how much time we’d spent in the witch’s cottage, but the blue moment had come to an end and the world had turned black and white. Though I kept glancing up, I couldn’t see even a trace of the Moon. But then, just as we were about to board the train, I caught the thinnest sliver of brightness, and from this I knew that our father hadn’t abandoned us, but was looking after us from the sky.

  Captain Janlav led us through the day carriage into our cabins. The rest of the guards remained out, to smoke their last cigarettes, I guess. My sisters and I kissed Alina good night, not exactly eager to part from her.

  “I�
��m fine,” she said, time after time. She even giggled. Whatever magic the witch had unleashed on her seemed to work better than any of Nurse Nookes’s potions.

  We retreated into our cabins. Captain Janlav locked the doors. I lay on my bed for a long time, fully dressed, absolutely sure I could never fall asleep. After a while, the train lurched into motion. It must have taken some time and effort to reheat the engine. I closed my eyes for a moment, only to wake up come morning.

  A timid knock announced the arrival of the silent servant. I felt tempted to ignore it, but that would have meant missing the opportunity to wash. I quickly got up and smoothed my skirts. There was no smoothing my hair from the tangled braids—incidents of this sort are what separate me from Elise.

  “Come in,” I said.

  The guard accompanying the servant unlocked the door. The servant offered me a pitcher of lukewarm water through the barely wide enough crack. I accepted it with whatever gratitude I could muster up.

  I washed my face and hands sluggishly. Risking Merile’s snarky remarks, I decided not to wash further. The morning was too chilly for me to care to undress.

  I sat down on my bed to wait for the guards to escort us to the day carriage. I reached for the nightstand’s drawer to retrieve you, Scribs. Then I remembered that I’d left you in the day carriage, stashed under the divan’s pillow. I imagined in horror what would happen if the servant or guards had happened upon you. One thought only eased my mind. This particular silent servant isn’t keen on cleaning.

  Another knock came from the door. I bounced up, eager to retrieve you, Scribs.

  When I exited my cabin, Captain Janlav had already roused Elise. He waited by Celestia’s door, the one closest to the day carriage. Merile appeared soon after, with her rats. Even Alina made it out of her cabin before Celestia. Boy ushered her up the corridor, toward us. She ran, squealing.

  “What’s taking Celestia this long,” Merile said aloud, the very thing that I, too, wondered.

  I thought of the witch then, of the deal she’d struck with Celestia. What if Captain Janlav were to open the door, only to find our eldest sister missing? The Moon bless me for thinking of this even in passing, but what if her plan was to escape alone? No doubt she’d send someone to rescue us later. I’m almost sure of that.

  “Celestia,” Captain Janlav called through her cabin’s door. When he received no reply, he cupped his palm against his ear and held it against the panel. “Everyone is waiting for you.”

  He tapped his right foot a good ten times. A flicker of suspicion crossed his face as he retreated a step and very unceremoniously pulled open the door.

  I couldn’t take it anymore then, and neither could Elise. We darted after him, into the cabin. Oh, Scribs, it was horrible and horribly embarrassing!

  Celestia lay on her bed, wrapped in a stained sheet. A most terrifying case of wretched days must have crept upon her during the night. For she’d bled all over the sheet and the mattress and her dress. Sometimes I get feverish during mine and suffer from cramps. But my sister’s face . . . color had fled her cheeks, and a cold sheen of sweat clung to her forehead.

  “By the wretched days,” I muttered under my breath for the benefit of Captain Janlav, for he couldn’t possibly fathom the extent of the bloody horror that women faced monthly.

  “Uh-oh . . .” Captain Janlav actually blushed and stepped aside to let Elise and me pass. He moved to block the entrance. The Moon bless him for that.

  “Close the door, will you?” Elise snapped, kneeling before Celestia. Our sister’s embarrassment needed no further witnesses. “And ask the servant to bring water and towels.”

  I didn’t quite know what to do. Luckily, Elise was in much better control of herself. She checked Celestia’s forehead for temperature. “Can you hear us, Celestia?”

  Celestia turned on her side to face us. She muttered something under her breath, still half sleepy or dazed by pain. “Elise? Sibilia? What are you doing here?”

  I was too flustered to reply, and so I stared at her stained sheets. Celestia followed my gaze. But rather than looking shocked or even abashed, a faint smile spread across her face. “I have paid the price. Everything is well now.”

  What she meant by that, I can’t even begin to guess, Scribs.

  While I was still puzzled by Celestia’s words, Elise helped our sister up, to sit on the bed’s edge. The exhausted glance Elise cast at me revealed that the dread that turned me sluggish had also crossed her mind. First Alina. Now Celestia.

  The servant brought cold water and towels. Elise and I assisted Celestia in cleaning as much as she’d let us. We turned aside as she used the chamber pot, but when she pushed it under the bed, I noticed that she bled very heavily. Was this the witch’s doing, somehow? Or has my sister always suffered from really, really bad wretched days?

  “Let us not keep them waiting,” Celestia said once she was fully dressed and padded up. She leaned against the wall as another set of cramps tore through her body—that much was obvious from her grimace.

  “Shouldn’t you rest here for the day?” I asked. Elise nodded, echoing my opinion. “They really can’t be as cruel as to deny you that.”

  Celestia met us with that celestial gaze of hers, blue as the skies, deep as the oceans. “And break the routine? Don’t be silly, my dear sisters.”

  With that said, she swayed to the door and announced us ready. Our younger sisters had already been escorted to the day carriage. Captain Janlav led us there to join them.

  Though Celestia insisted she would be fine resting on her customary sofa chair, I urged Captain Janlav to help her to my divan. As soon as she lay down, she dozed off. We had to practically chase the captain away. And he didn’t stay that way for long—he kept on checking on us every half hour.

  Scribs, I have a theory that I’ll tell you only under one condition. You mustn’t call me silly or laugh at me. You mustn’t claim me superstitious.

  I believe Captain Janlav’s fate is permanently interwoven with ours. Even if the anxiety he first felt for Alina’s well-being and now for Celestia’s is that which he feels for his own, there is more to him. Kindness that shouldn’t exist in a soldier that the gagargi has chosen as his pawn.

  Ugh. I don’t want to think of the gagargi and his plans now. I will stop writing after this paragraph, lest I might run out of ink. Soon, there should be lunch. I hope against all hope that there will be dessert. Even a morsel of cinnamon biscuit would do wonders to my spirit. It’s been a miserable two days, and at some point next week, I’ll need to face the wretched days of my own, and I’m not looking forward to them. At. All.

  Chapter 9: Elise

  The train squeals akin to a child of iron whose limbs are torn apart, like a daughter of ice about to receive a shattering blow, like a shadow of a maiden abandoned into a lightless cave, like a glorious figurehead crafted from silver that the journey will tarnish and that can never quite be polished back to her former shine.

  I stir from the shallow sleep, the only kind of sleep I have known for weeks, as I bump against the cabin’s wall. I remain there, leaning against the lacquered panel that seeps coldness through my clothes onto my skin, then onward into my bones. This isn’t the first time the train screams nor the first it halts in the middle of the night.

  Yet something is different, the stillness and slowness of time. I quickly get up, slip my feet into the sabots that have long since ceased to chafe me. Though the curtains of my cabin are drawn down, though the guards have told us not to look out, I swiftly part them.

  We are in the middle of nowhere, where the vast expanse of snow stretches on forever, glittering regardless of the cost that such display of wealth might require. The sky is black and scattered with stars. My father’s gaze is kind, a golden halo against the velvet.

  I know at once, this isn’t a planned stop.

  For a moment, my heart throbs and my breathing comes in dizzying gasps. My fingers tremble as I slip out of my nightgown, into the si
mple woolen dress. Even though the buttons are big and on the front, I struggle to fasten them. If Lily were here, she’d hum one of her melancholy tunes. But she’s not, and I don’t know what became of my friend. She never revealed to me what her plan would be once the side we both supported triumphed. I thought her cautious, not wary of me, but perhaps I was wrong about that, too. Perhaps it’s better I don’t know what became of her, just as she’s blessed not to know what has and will eventually happen to me.

  I lift my mattress’s edge and retrieve the stash of sequin necklaces. Celestia has a plan, but she hasn’t entrusted me with the details either. I loop the thin chains around my neck, around my wrists. This might be the night we are at last rescued, and in case it is, I want to be ready for every eventuality. For I’m partially at fault in my family’s demise.

  I thought I could cease to be a Daughter of the Moon. I funded the insurgence. I gave away jewelry a thousand times more valuable than the sequins that pinch the back of my neck, that grow cool even as they press against my skin. Back when life was simpler, when we still lived in the palace and I sneaked out with the man who no longer remembers my name, I cherished the thought of absolute independence. I wanted to be a woman amongst others, nothing more. I naively thought the revolution would set me free. It didn’t.

  I thought that I was so smart. I foresaw an exile of an undetermined length, not this bone-rattling journey to a destination yet unnamed. I knew to expect a wave of uncertainty, one that would pass soon after the people had accepted the new order. I thought my sisters and I could then return without our titles, to live a normal life. How foolish was I in my dreams!

  Wait, are those approaching steps? I shuffle to the door and press my ear against the panel. Someone is running down the length of the corridor beyond. No doubt it’s the guard on the night watch. I don’t know if he’s the one who now ignores me, or one of the others that go by the nicknames my younger sisters have bestowed on them: Beard, Boy, Belly, Boots, and Tabard. While the nightly isolation is a source of comfort to me, for it gives me time to reflect, the thought that they may enter and leave as they please unsettles me. As it must unsettle both Celestia and Sibilia, though we never talk about it—how could we, without causing more distress to our younger sisters? Even though our guards rather pretend we don’t exist, isn’t it just a matter of time before someone less civil boards the train, someone who thinks that a captured Daughter of the Moon doesn’t need to be revered, but should instead be tarnished?