The Sisters of the Crescent Empress

by Leena Likitalo

  “The gagargi will want to see only me,” I say. Of that, I am quite sure. It is only I who is of value and importance to him. He wants me to stand by his side before the crowds and bear a child of his seed. It is only that way that my people will ever accept him as a ruler assigned by the Moon. “You are to wait here. Even if I may stay away for a long while, don’t be afraid. Captain Janlav and the guards will not let any harm come to you.”

  For as long as it is possible, at least. Since the day we listened to the music, they have been more and more drawn to us. They visit us during the long afternoons, bringing the gramophone and the frail discs with them. We play cards until six, for then they must join Captain Ansalov and his soldiers in the dining room. But after both my sisters and the guards are sustained, they return to hear Sibilia reading the scriptures. Though Elise has been wrong about many things, I must approve of her cunning in ever so casually setting up these new routines, making our last weeks together that little fraction better.

  “But you will come back?” Merile asks, glancing sideways at Alina, who is already in tears. It is as if they are both convinced that they will never see me again. The ghosts in the mirror must be whispering disconcerting things to them.

  “I will come back,” I promise, but there is a note of falseness in my voice. The gagargi is a magnificent opponent. Though the Moon has strengthened me, it may be that I can’t resist the gagargi’s spells. It is well possible that I may not be able to make him believe my words as his own. Yet I can but try, even if this may hurt me beyond healing. “But I might return changed.”

  “As a swan,” Alina whispers, and breaks down in sobs that tremble her whole, frail body.

  “Hush.” Sibilia kneels to embrace our little sister. As she holds her, her sleeves reach barely over her elbows. She hasn’t yet met the limits of her body. Or mind. “Celestia is strong. You needn’t be afraid.”

  I wish only that I could believe in myself as much as Sibilia does. When the gagargi last put his spell on me, I was unprepared and weak. He did things to me that can’t be undone. Yet I can’t let the past affect me now.

  “I must prepare myself,” I say. The spell Sibilia taught me is similar to the one she first learnt. In principle, it should allow me to make the gagargi believe that he should take all of us with him. While this wouldn’t guarantee us freedom, it would broaden our options. For in this house, hope is extinct.

  Elise brushes my shoulder, her touch soft as a falling feather. “Will you accept an embrace for good luck?”

  This I didn’t expect. It is not an apology. I doubt she will ever ask for my forgiveness, but it is something, a concession perhaps. And though I should get ready for the encounter with the gagargi, at that moment it becomes more important to me to simply be close to my sisters, to soothe my aching heart, and that is what I do.

  As I hold my sisters and they hold me, I think, there was a time when I could easily brush my feelings aside. How inconvenient it is to be overcome by emotions! How inconvenient indeed, and yet it feels like a blessing still!

  * * *

  There is a knock, followed by a nervous rattle of the key. I gently pry my hem free of Alina’s grip. Her fingers are so tiny, thin and narrow. I don’t want to let go of them, but that is what I must do. “This is where we must part, but it will be only for a moment.”

  Alina stares at my feet—no, at my shadow—and wipes her tears away with the back of her hand. “You will come back.”

  The door opens before I can ask for more or decide not to do so. It is Beard and Tabard. This time around, they have their rifles strapped against their backs. They also wear long knives at their belts, visible rather than hidden. These two things tell me everything I need to know.

  “Gagargi Prataslav has come for me.”

  “Aya.” Beard stares at his thick knuckles, the hands clasped into fists. “The great gagargi has indeed arrived.”

  I glide toward the guards without them having to order me. I know the role I have to play. I will not fight against it. “I am ready.”

  Tabard clears his throat, and yet he is hesitant to deliver the message. “He told us to bring all of you.”

  It is only because I am already moving that my steps don’t falter. What can the gagargi possibly want with my sisters? Will he threaten them to make me do his bidding? Or does he have more sinister plans in store for us? I can but mentally prepare for that.

  “Come along then, my sisters,” I say lightly, as if I had known to anticipate this as well. “Gather in a line behind me.”

  I don’t glance over my shoulder as I exit the room. My sisters know their places. And there is no place else for them to go, but to follow me.

  It rains outside, something that we have grown used to, but that feels more ominous now that the gagargi shelters under the same roof. The stairs thud hollow under our steps. The hallway leading to the dining room feels longer. This doesn’t disturb me—I shall use the time in my hands to prepare myself for the encounter.

  It is the gagargi who told me to decide whether I will be a victim or a victor, and so I seek strength from the harm he inflicted on me in the past rather than let seeing him surface it all again and weaken me at the crucial moment.

  He made me fail my people. His is the blame for the civil war, even if it was I who first sought his guidance.

  He made me fail my mother. His is the blame for her demise. He put me under his spell and made me think the coup my idea.

  He made me fail myself. His is the blame for my pain. It was him who stole my soul and sowed his seed in my womb. He did this when I was powerless to resist him.

  As we reach the dining room’s closed door, Boots and Belly standing guard before it, I make myself a solemn promise. I may have been a victim before, but tonight, I shall be the victor.

  Boots nods at me before rapping the door with his knuckles. There is no reply, but he opens it nevertheless, announces, “The daughters are here.”

  “Please, ask them to join us.” Gagargi Prataslav calls at us in a pleasantly low voice, as if we were about to share a cup of zavarka tea together and not discuss our fates.

  Boots stomps aside, and I must remind myself that the gagargi is but a man—a wicked man, but just a man still. I am the oldest Daughter of the Moon. It is not I who will be facing him, but her. Holding on to this thought, I lead my sisters into the room that we might not leave with our souls intact.

  “Celestia. The Daughters of the Moon.” Gagargi Prataslav’s black braids are glued against his skull. His face is still wet with the rain, and tiny drops cling to his voluminous beard. His drenched black robes hang against his wiry frame, and yet, he looks like a man who is delighted to have faced the storm.

  I remind myself again that he is only a man. But it isn’t only him who awaits us in the room.

  Behind him stand at attention Captain Janlav and Captain Ansalov, the shoulders of their gray coats striped with rain, their boots covered in mud. When I still watched the events unfold from my mother’s shadow, I met many generals, dozens of captains, and hundreds of soldiers of lesser rank. I know how to read their faces and postures. These two men have been reporting to the gagargi. Captain Janlav is a soldier delivering bad news, dreading his ruler’s reaction, but who has braced himself for the inevitable punishment. Captain Ansalov smiles smugly. He is a soldier delivering good news, sure of rewards to follow, of praises and reputation gained.

  Seeing this, my swan-self wants to scamper out of the room, regardless of the consequences. I push her opinions aside. For a true empress, there is no distinction between good and bad news. Both are information upon which to lay plans and make decisions. Rather than surrendering to my swan-self’s terror, I ask myself two questions.

  Why are the two captains present?

  Why did the gagargi want to see my sisters?

  “Gagargi Prataslav,” I say as my sisters and I form a crescent in the order of our ages. Perhaps the gagargi thinks that the mere presence of the two capta
ins will suffice to distract me. Perhaps, but guessing is never sufficient replacement for knowledge. “So thoughtful of you to travel all the way here to greet us.”

  “Yes. I am a very thoughtful man.” The gagargi’s smile reveals his slightly crooked white teeth, but there is no indication yet of a spell spun or cast. What is he waiting for? Or is he simply toying with me? I am tempted to form my spell, but I sense now is not yet the right moment.

  Rain lashes against the planks covering the windows. From the corner of my eye, I catch Alina and Merile huddling closer to each other, unaccustomed to the absence of their dogs. The gagargi knows my mind and soul. Just as I have had time to think about this encounter, so has he. He must have realized that I am in full control of myself, that no mere isolation, loss of freedom, could ever break my spirit. But my younger sisters aren’t as resilient. He summoned them, the two captains, into this room so that my sisters would react, so that their distress would disturb my composure, so that he could then catch me off guard and put me under his spell with ease. Just like me, he is merely waiting for the moment to strike.

  Boldly, I take a step forward, to shield my sisters from the evil of this man. I will protect them with all the power bestowed on me by the Moon. This is no secret.

  “Close the door,” the gagargi suggests to Boots. Captain Janlav shifts his weight, but there are no orders for him. None for Captain Ansalov either.

  “Now then, let me have a look at you, dearest Celestia.” The gagargi approaches me, and though he is soaked, he still smells of incense, sharp and pungent. My swan-self screeches. She recognizes a predator when she sees one. “You have been gone for so long. I have missed your company on many a lonely night. But of course it isn’t only about me. Your people miss you, too.”

  He speaks as much to me as to the two captains and my sisters. He knows me, knows I have considered every option and eventuality, and as a result reached the one conclusion that is almost too painful to admit aloud. But for me to be able to ambush him with the spell Sibilia taught me, he must feel in control. Though it pains me to have my sisters hear what I am about to say, I have no other option but to part with the words he wants to hear. “I have run as far as I can.”

  “Yes. That you have.” He reaches to fondly cup my chin, his skin clammy against mine. And still, there is no sign of a spell, nothing to fight against. I meet his deep, dark gaze. What is this game he plays? “The time has come for you to return.”

  As he touches me, images of the night I followed him into his bed flash past my eyes, memories earlier suppressed. My head pressed against his chest. His skin rough against mine. I knew joy with him, but not out of my own will. He wanted me to think I wanted it, liked it, though that I never did.

  I push the past aside. I refuse to be a victim a moment longer.

  “Yes. That it has.” I mirror his words on purpose, focusing on what matters now. I know from the propaganda reports, the manifest, and his very presence here that even though the gagargi is winning the battles, he hasn’t won over the heart of my people. No matter how many souls he has stolen, he hasn’t been able to make the bloodshed end.

  “Join me now, and let us put all this unpleasantness behind us.” His gaze intensifies, and I twitch my head sideways as if it were becoming unbearable. He must believe me weak, once wounded beyond recovery. “We shall stand before the gathered crowds at the autumn equinox. We shall greet the Moon together and receive his blessing to our rule and that of our future daughters.”

  Our daughters . . . he doesn’t have a clue about how close he came to accomplishing his goal, what ridding myself of his seed has potentially cost me. Which is good.

  But from the corner of my eye, I catch Elise beaming approvingly. This is what she has wanted me to do all along, though the invitation to leave this house is meant only for me. But it is an unexpected opening, one I can’t leave unexplored. “My people would be relieved to see their empress and her sisters unharmed.”

  “Your sisters?” Gagargi Prataslav muses, removing his hand from my chin to stroke his wet beard. “Unharmed . . .”

  I realize my mistake then. All this conversation, mere intimidation, the lack of attack on his behalf, it was just a maneuver for him to push me into revealing my plan. The Moon help us! No, our father can’t help us now. It is up to me to reclaim what can still be salvaged.

  “Yes.” He strolls past me, to Elise, and when he does, his attention shifts to her. “The younger Daughters of the Moon.”

  I don’t know if this is the optimal time to act or if I will only make the situation worse. But having revealed what I yearned to accomplish, I can but strive to turn the course of events toward a more favorable path. Pressing my lips tight together, I begin to pronounce the one hundred and seventeen consonants and three vowels that form the glyph.

  “I remember you, sweet Elise,” the gagargi says, a terribly pleasant tone to his voice. Drawn by this, I turn around, though I am but one-fifth through the letters. Captain Ansalov smirks at me. He thinks me distraught. “You contributed to the cause most generously. We funded many a strike against the Enemy, thanks to your donations.”

  Elise flinches, and just like her, I will the gagargi’s words to be a lie. But of course that they are not. Everything that he says makes perfect sense. My sister’s darker moods. Her fraternizing with the guards. The argument that led to our unbridged disagreement. This realization almost leads me to lose track of the glyph’s letters. Almost, but not quite.

  “Celestia . . .” Elise pleads with me, though she should remain silent. Can she not see from my expression that I need to focus? Does she not understand that apologies are of no benefit to us, that emotions may only lead us all to ruin? “Please, Celestia!”

  I pronounce the last silent consonant, and the glyph surges to life in my mouth. Even if I wanted to speak words of consolation, I couldn’t voice them, not without releasing the spell first. Even if . . . But I have nothing to say to my sister, not until I have considered through the full implications of her selfish actions. And that is something I can’t afford to focus on now. It will have to wait.

  “War is such a messy business. To see a sister turn against sister . . .” The gagargi shakes his head, and drops scatter from his braids and his beard onto the plank floor. The spell swirls in my mouth. “Ah, it breaks my heart.”

  Upset by what she must consider cold-hearted silence from me, Elise blinks back tears. The gagargi glances at me, to see if this revelation had any effect. I don’t need to pretend shock, but it pains me to let him see it. Yet, he needs to believe that my plans have come undone, that I have lost my trust in my sister.

  “I don’t recall your name, younger Daughter of the Moon,” the gagargi says as he moves onward, to harass Sibilia. He leers at the too-taut front of her dress, the too-short sleeves, and the dirty hem. “You are the one who doesn’t matter, but you must have realized that by now.”

  Sibilia gazes past the gagargi, pretending braveness, pretending so much more. Out of my sisters, only she understands why I don’t, can’t say a word. She knows and believes in me, even though I was once ready to abandon her.

  “Yes. That you have,” the gagargi replies to his own speculations. To him, my sister is still expendable. He has no idea of her powers, and if it is up to me, he will never learn of them. “You are of no interest to me either. How does that make you feel?”

  Sibilia blushes, but otherwise manages to hold on to her composure, and I am so proud of her that the spell almost manages to sneak out from between my lips. I tilt my chin up, clench my teeth together. To my sisters, the two captains, it must look as if my façade of calm were crumbling.

  The gagargi chuckles, and the rain outside grows heavier. Wind knocks against the barred windows, loud and insistent. My swan-self warns me of approaching thunder. She tells me to fly away. But even if I could, now isn’t the right time.

  “You, on the other hand, little Merile,” the gagargi says, turning on his heels, “have becom
e of interest to me of late.”

  Merile glances at her feet, but her dogs aren’t with us. There is no one to comfort her. I can but stand before her, teeth already aching from the eagerness of the spell, full of power I can use only once. I need to wait for the moment when the gagargi is, if not weak, then at least distracted.

  Pray to Moon that there will be such a moment soon.

  The gagargi slips his arms into the voluminous sleeves of his black robes. His fingers climb up his arms, shapes like colossal spiders under the wet fabric. Then he pulls his arms free, flourishing a scarlet scarf I instantly recognize.

  “Mine,” Merile shrieks, reaching up to claim the scarf her seed once gave her, though the gagargi holds it too high for her to reach. “That’s mine, the scarf so fine!”

  Captain Ansalov laughs. The gagargi doesn’t so much as glance at the soldier, and yet his displeasure is obvious. The two captains may have been allowed to remain in the room to witness my humiliation, to allow them to see how powerless I am despite my heritage. But they aren’t allowed to partake in it.

  Captain Ansalov’s expression grows somber and sour as he realizes this.

  “No, no, little Daughter of the Moon.” The gagargi closes his fist and the scarf disappears into the hollow formed by his bony fingers. “It is mine. A favor granted by me to the one who speaks in my name. I am by no means surprised to see him passing it onward to the daughter of his seed. But back, you shall not get it.”

  The gagargi cranes over his shoulder at me, and the spell barges against my teeth so hard I fear they will shatter. There is no time to think, only to act. I press my hand against my mouth to prevent the spell from claiming uncontrolled freedom. Oh, the Moons be blessed, let the gagargi think that the night of Merile’s folly has returned to haunt me, that I am afraid of him harming my little sister and nothing more.