The Sisters of the Crescent Empress

by Leena Likitalo

  Celestia and Elise want to protect us from the gagargi. Though me and my sisters have gone through quite a lot since we left the Summer City, the revolution Elise has mentioned quite a few times must have affected other people, too. Merile says she saw burning houses on our way here. I don’t dare to think what else might have happened. Yet I sense that many shadows have been lost, their bearers fallen limp in snow or mud.

  “That man, Captain Ansalov, I do not like seeing him here.” Irina clenches the top of her closed fist against her mouth.

  “He is very dangerous.” Olesia drifts from the sofa to Merile, to stand behind her—no, to lean over her shoulder. Mufu backs away from my sister. “Listen, little one, listen closely. Do not ever follow Captain Ansalov into the cellar, no matter what he tells you.”

  “The cellar?” Merile wonders aloud even as Mufu shrinks down on her hind legs and growls. “Why would I ever want to go to the cellar? Elise says it’s dark there, and her clothes smelled of moldy onions for days afterwards.”

  I don’t know how Merile doesn’t see it. Hear it. Olesia’s words are a warning. Not that she should have needed to tell us not to trust Captain Ansalov. Though he smiles when he addresses us, his shadow is spiteful and hungry. I would never trust anyone with a shadow like that!

  “Merile . . .” It’s Sibilia who speaks as she strolls to our sister, and at that moment I’m glad that I’m still watching the door, at the other side of the room. I don’t remember her being as tall as she now is, but with her shoulders pulled back and her back very straight, she resembles Celestia more than I’ve noticed before. “What are you talking about? And to whom?”

  Merile spins around, and Mufu spins with her. Her brown cheeks redden. She’s spoken out of turn! Can she possibly come up with a story that doesn’t reveal to our sister that we see ghosts! For if she can’t, I don’t know what to do! With the Poet arriving, but then with Captain Ansalov and his soldiers arriving, too, too much has happened already today without Sibilia getting mad at us!

  “No one. I’m talking to no one. No, I’m thinking aloud. That’s it. I’m thinking aloud.”

  Sibilia pats Merile on top of her head, sending her curly black hair bouncing. But she stares past her into the mirror. No, somehow beyond, as if . . . My sister is powerful in a way very familiar, but which I don’t really understand. And yet, her shadow is fraying around the tiny pinprick holes scattered across its length.

  “Irina, Olesia, reveal yourself to me. I know you are here.” Sibilia pauses. Her lips press together as if she were thinking hard. “Or there, if that’s what you prefer.”

  I bite my fist then, though it hurts quite a lot. Guilt isn’t a nice thing to feel. And neither is it nice to be caught red-handed in . . . not lying, but holding back things from my sisters. How did Sibilia find out about the ghosts?

  Irina merely sighs. “Well, this was bound to happen eventually. What do you think, Olesia, should we? She is not the oldest, after all.”

  My heart pounds heavy as I wait for Olesia to make up her mind. I understand that the order of birth is very important for Daughters of the Moon, but Irina and Olesia keep on bringing it up even when it doesn’t matter. It’s over a month since the last sacred ceremony and almost two until the next one.

  “I shall have to consider this carefully,” Olesia replies. Oh, it would be so much easier if she just agreed. But if she doesn’t . . .

  It will all be so very embarrassing. Sibilia will want to know why Merile and I didn’t tell her of the ghosts earlier. And what will we do if she then speaks with Celestia and Elise? They’d be so very disappointed in me and Merile. I know it for sure!

  “We might as well,” Olesia says, and the ghosts waft together to hover behind Sibilia.

  They reveal themselves exactly at the same moment. I imagine how they must look to my sister. Two elderly ladies in white, with proud, pale faces and paler hair gathered atop their heads. Faded, but strong at the same time.

  “Thank you,” Sibilia says, not in the least bit spooked!

  Irina and Olesia glance at each other, brows arched. No doubt they expected my sister to gasp upon finding them craning behind her, seeing this in the reflection, but not with her own eyes. But our older sister looks smug instead.

  She says, “Now, you can move through the walls, can you not?”

  “Of course we can.” Irina cants her chin up. Olesia nods curtly as if the very question were silly to begin with.

  “Well, I, for one, would like to know exactly what’s happening in the dining room.”

  “Yes! Me, too!” Merile echoes Sibilia, though the two of them never agree on anything.

  I’m not sure if I really want to know. Adult things are adult things for a reason. Celestia and Elise will share everything we should know with us as soon as they return. I rub my fist, the white toothmarks there. Come to think of it, maybe Merile and the ghosts are somewhat right. Maybe our older sisters don’t exactly keep secrets from us, but maybe they don’t tell us everything either.

  We’re kind of guilty of the same thing.

  Irina and Olesia glance at each other. Irina flickers, and her expression is one of fear. Olesia’s shape, on the other hand, hardens. “And what would you be willing to give in exchange?”

  When Sibilia speaks, her braided red hair glows. She’s more than herself today. Does that sort of thing come with age? “My word as a Daughter of the Moon that I won’t mention your presence to Celestia and Elise.”

  Which is a very curious thing to promise. Merile and I kept the ghosts’ presence secret because we decided to do so. But Sibilia’s suggestion makes it seem as if the ghosts don’t want Celestia and Elise to know about them. I’ll need to think about this later when all is not so confusing.

  “Deal.” Olesia reaches a ghostly hand toward Sibilia. My sister grabs it without hesitation. If she feels anything at all, she doesn’t say a word. “Irina will speak in my place.”

  An eyeblink later Olesia is gone. Irina drifts to the mirror, to speak in her sister’s place. Sibilia waves curtly at me and, thus summoned, I hurry to join my sisters with Rafa. Mufu welcomes us with nervous tail-wagging. Merile nudges her companion with her shin. “Hush, silly.”

  “In the skirmish of Skatanor, fought under the Crescent-lit snowfields that come summer will grow a plentiful harvest of rye, the Equal People, armed with scythes and pitchforks, triumphed against the dispirited, ill-prepared Enemy, killing eleven hundred foes and bringing their callous commander, Captain Orinov, to justice. He will be judged in a fair trial, and when found guilty of breaking the laws degreed by the Moon himself, he shall face the choice between the shameful death of a traitor or donating his soul to remedy the harm he has caused when he decided to side against our good, devoted people.”

  “Who’s saying this?” Sibilia squints at the mirror, one thick eyebrow higher than the other. I’m confused, too. What sort of news is this? Why was Papa’s name mentioned when there’s no Crescent Empress to speak his will?

  Irina lifts both hands up as if she were holding a scroll. Her knuckles are bony and white. “The man in the fancy red coat.”

  “The Poet?” Sibilia muses at the same time as Merile chimes, “My seed.”

  “It doesn’t sound like him,” Sibilia comments.

  Merile licks her lips as if she’s not sure whether she could and should agree with Sibilia again. Mufu stares expectantly up at her, though she must know this is no time for treats. “It really doesn’t. Not his. The words aren’t his, even if they come out of his mouth.”

  But it’s not even that which bothers me the most. It’s the thing the Poet said about choosing between . . . I kneel down to pet Rafa. I really don’t want to think about it, but I don’t think that’s an option.

  Irina clears her throat and glances at us from over the scroll that doesn’t really exist. “Do you want to hear more? The list is very long. Olesia says he has been reading it ever since they retreated into the dining room.”

&nbs
p; I glance at Merile, then at Sibilia. Merile bends to pick Mufu up. She’s confused by the way her seed speaks. I’m terrified by what I have heard.

  “Yes,” Sibilia says. “Do go on, and leave out nothing.”

  Irina closes her eyes and speaks of what her sister sees. “The resourceful people of the fine town of Opitap ambushed the convoy of the greedy Count Sukisov, who foolishly attempted to smuggle gunpowder and ammunition to the Enemy to support their ridiculous pretense of a resistance.”

  I don’t remember hearing Count Sukisov’s name before, but . . . I realize it then, the Enemy must be the people supporting Celestia. How can those fighting for the empress-to-be be called that?

  “After inflicting heavy casualties on the opposing side, the Equal People escorted the justly dispirited traitor to the Winter City, where he received a fair trial. He was sentenced to pay his soul for the crimes committed against the Crescent Empire.”

  Merile shakes her head slowly. She cradles Mufu against her chest, chin pressed against her companion’s silvery forehead. “No . . .”

  I don’t know what she means, and I can’t think of it now. For a memory comes to me, and it’s a dark, frightening one. Last summer, Merile and I saw the gagargi’s engineer feed an amber bead to the Great Thinking Machine. Since then, I’ve been certain the gagargi wants my soul. My sisters say I’m just imagining it, but having heard the Poet’s words . . .

  “So, regardless of what you do,” Sibilia says, tapping her fingers against her thigh, “you’ll be fed to the Great Thinking Machine?”

  My mouth goes so dry that when I whimper I don’t make a sound. Rafa rises on her hind legs to lean against me. It was true all along then. I wasn’t imagining. I really wasn’t imagining it.

  “Alina?” And then Sibilia is there, squeezing my shoulder. Rafa whispers warm air in my ear, but I can’t make out what she might want to tell me. “I didn’t mean to . . . It’s all right, my little Alina. It’s all right.”

  I hug Rafa. How can it be all right? If anything we’ve heard today is true, people are dying in our name, not one or two, but many, and the gagargi is stealing their souls. And yet, the way the Poet speaks, how Irina conveys this to Olesia makes it sound as if Merile’s seed believes he’s delivering good news. It simply doesn’t make sense.

  “Is he really the only one speaking?” Merile asks.

  Irina pushes the scroll aside. “Yes.” Then her face—or is it only her expression and pose?—changes. Any distraction, even an unsettling one, is a welcome relief from the ghastly news.

  She listens with her head held high, expression unflinching. I recognize Celestia straightaway.

  She looks sickened, confused, and yet so very beautiful. That can only be Elise.

  She drifts to hover very close to where Elise was, as if to protect her. This must be Captain Janlav.

  And then she smiles as if indeed the news were good, and the most terrible thing is that this smile reaches her eyes. The sight of Captain Ansalov, her as him, scares me. If Sibilia and Merile and Rafa and Mufu weren’t there, right next to me, I’d flee into my room, under the blankets, never to get up again.

  “Perhaps we go on with the rest of the tidings?” Sibilia suggests, patting my shoulder once more, almost apologetically.

  “Perhaps we do.” Irina resumes her own face, and I’m happy she does so. I hadn’t realized the ghosts could appear as other people. Maybe I don’t really know everything about them. “It was by no means a pleasant experience for me either.”

  I brace myself for more bad things to come. But with Sibilia and Merile by my side, with Rafa nuzzling my palms, I will be safe. I’m safe, and as a Daughter of the Moon, I must honor the ones who lost their lives fighting for us. That’s what Celestia would do.

  “In the battle of Fornavav, where the enemy blood turned the snow to scarlet, the vigorous soldiers of the Equal People’s army defeated the ruthless General Monzanov, who has been known to butcher innocent women and children in his mindless pursuit to support the losing side. The gallant, untiring efforts of our men yielded expected results. He was captured alive, to bring him to justice and to bring justice to those who have fallen under his cruel sword. But after a dastardly escape attempt, for the Equal People’s absolute victory frightened his cowardly soul, a well-aimed bullet to his heart put an end to his deceitful life.”

  “Huh.” Sibilia breathes deep. She pulls her arm from around me and, again, starts pacing the length of the room. With her head bent down, she bumps into the divan. She looks around, startled to find herself already by the fireplace. “None of that can possibly be right. Celestia’s seed was the finest, most righteous man this empire has seen! We know what happened to him!”

  Do we? Yes, I guess we do. Celestia met with her seed that day when the train halted and we got to walk around the station. She’d planned that we’d go with him. But something went wrong, and we had to board the train again, with him remaining behind.

  Irina motions Sibilia to return before the mirror. My sister does so. I hug Rafa, trying not to look at my sister’s shadow. I must be imagining the holes. Though I’m not. This day is full of foul things.

  “We know,” Irina says. “None of it is right or true. Dear daughters, this is propaganda.”

  “Propaganda?” Merile’s voice is muffled because she speaks with her lips brushing against Mufu’s gray forehead. I’ve never heard this word before either, but I don’t like the sound of it.

  “People believe what they’re told to believe.” Sibilia grimaces as if the words left a bad taste in her mouth. “All this talk about redeeming crimes by . . . The gagargi is feeding our supporters to the Great Thinking Machine. And now his supporters repeat his twisted words again and again, making people accept that it’s perfectly fine to steal a man’s soul.”

  Papa can’t approve of that, but maybe the gagargi has never respected our father’s wishes. Maybe Sibilia didn’t get it right. Though I’m sure she did. I’ve seen the machine. I’ve felt its hunger. And now I know that I’m not safe in this house. The gagargi wants my soul and will come to claim it any day now.

  But there must be something me and my sisters can do. Anything. I ask, “If none of it is true, why doesn’t Celestia or Elise say something?”

  “What could they say to make a difference?” Irina asks in return. Sibilia shakes her head, face reddening as if she had something else stinging her tongue, but knows better than to say it aloud. Merile seeks comfort from Mufu. “This is not the first house where Poet Granizol has read this scroll. He is the voice of the gagargi. And I think you have heard enough for now.”

  I think I’ve heard too much already. Rafa must sense that I’m feeling unease. She nibbles my fingers, gently so that her teeth don’t hurt me.

  “Why.” Merile’s eyes brim with tears. “Why would my seed side with the gagargi? My seed is good. The gagargi is evil!”

  Olesia appears alongside Irina. She looks . . . maybe slightly shaken. It’s difficult to tell when they’re so pale and see-through to begin with. “We all do what we must to survive.”

  “But still!” Merile insists, swallows hard. “Still!”

  Irina reaches out to wipe a tear from my sister’s cheek. Her finger passes through the teardrop, but Merile doesn’t notice this. “You should try and forget him.”

  “You will not see him again,” Olesia adds.

  Chapter 7: Merile

  Twelve. Right after the swan clock in the drawing room has sung twelve times, there’s a knock on the window, a sharp and hard scratch against the glass.

  “Merile . . .” Alina whispers, the blanket drawn so high up that only her little pallid face shows. Rafa and Mufu stir, too. They crawl the low alley between us. Mufu lies down next to me. Rafa curls against Alina’s side.

  “I heard it, too,” I reply, hoping for the sound to simply disappear. My seed. Neither me nor Alina has slept well since my seed left, but for different reasons. I still can’t make myself believe the things the gh
osts said that day, my seed becoming the voice of the gagargi and supposedly being completely fine with the task. Alina is convinced the gagargi is coming for us and dreads every sound, smell, and shadow. There’s nothing I can say to make her stop believing that he intends to feed her to the Great Thinking Machine.

  Knock. Knock. The sound is too regular.

  “What is that?” Alina’s voice trembles, though Rafa licks the tears from her cheeks as soon as they appear.

  I don’t want to get up from the bed. I really don’t, because who knows what I might find from behind the curtains. But I must or my little sister won’t sleep at all and then I won’t either. “Look. I’ll go and have a look. Rafa, Mufu, you stay with Alina.”

  Alina nods. She wraps her arms around Rafa. She believes she’ll be safe with my companions. Of course she’ll be safe with them.

  Though it’s late spring already, the floorboards are cool under my bare feet. They creak, too, and with every step the smell of the old house, that of moist dust that rises from between the planks, grows stronger. When I reach the window, I hesitate to even touch the curtain. I have to firmly remind myself that I’m twelve already. I can’t be afraid when Alina can see me.

  I pull the curtain aside. And then, I chuckle.

  “What is it?” Alina peeks out from under the blanket, and my companions peek out with her.

  “A magpie!” I whisper back at them. How silly of me, to be spooked by a bird we know so well! But with my seed’s betrayal, I don’t know what to think of anything anymore. Though I’ve demanded multiple times that Celestia and Elise tell us what really happened in the dining room that day, neither has replied anything useful. Why did my seed have to go without saying as much as good-bye, but then that horrid Captain Ansalov and his soldiers could stay and overtake the old servants’ quarters at the front yard? It makes no sense!

  The magpie studies me with its beady eyes. It tilts its head to the right, and behind it, mist rolls in from the lake, the white, light blanket creeping up the hill, toward the house. Soldiers. In the Moon’s soft light, I can see no soldiers patrolling the paths.