The Five Daughters of the Moon

Chapter 8: Sibilia

Hello, Scribs.

Yes, it’s still just plain hello for you. “Dear” is a precious title that you must earn by listening to my secrets and guarding them. We’ve known each other for three weeks only. That’s quite many days, and yet not that many at all. Dear Notes, whom I miss so very much, was my companion and confidante for two years, seven months, and eleven days, ever since I started keeping a diary.

I don’t know you well enough yet to trust you, and you can’t know me that well either. Perhaps you can tell from my handwriting which days have been good and which beyond terrible. See how scrawny and shaky, borderline unreadable, my handwriting is now? There’s no need to remark on that. It’s been such an awful two days that, to begin with, I don’t even want to write about them. But I suspect that writing might make me feel better, and at this point I’m willing to resort to absolutely anything.

By the way, Scribs. This dialog with you, it doesn’t flow naturally yet. It’s not fair of me to continually compare you to Notes. I must give you a chance to prove your worth. Very well then. Here goes.

Argh. Why is this so difficult? Scribs, a little help here would be much appreciated!

Yesterday, after the silent servant departed with the lunch dishes, I immersed myself in the exciting world of the scriptures, as has become my habit. Yes, Scribs, contrary to what you might think, I do read the scriptures before I write sideways over them. It’s not exactly my fault that I had to abandon Notes that night the guards escorted us to the train with me wearing nothing but my nightgown (and since thinking of that still makes me want to die of shame, from now on we shall simply pretend that it never happened). It’s curious that there are no notebooks or letter paper on this train, but that the guards forgot to unclip this fountain pen from your side. Then again, there are many things I don’t understand when it comes to this journey’s peculiar arrangements. For example, we have only one hairbrush and comb between the five of us—and since Merile so kindly decided to steal the brush for her rats, the rest of us have to do with one comb. One. Comb.

My head started to ache after an hour or so, and I simply couldn’t continue reading. I closed my eyes and tried to dream of K, of how he’d gallop to our rescue, and then sweep me up in his arms. Well, I dreamed of more than that, but those thoughts are so intimate that I don’t feel comfortable sharing them with you. Not yet in any case.

It was then that I heard the strange conversation between Merile and Alina. No, I wasn’t eavesdropping. As such. There’s just no privacy to be had when you’re forced to share one carriage with your sisters every single day. We’re lucky, though, to have our own cabins for the nights. I can’t imagine having to share a room with any one of them. Don’t get me wrong, Scribs, I love my sisters above anything else. But there’s a limit to how long I can listen to Celestia’s rational reasoning, Elise pining after that captain who’s clearly forgotten everything about her, or worse, talking of how the revolution isn’t necessarily a bad thing. And Merile, dear Papa help me, she either throws hissy fits or prattles on about her rats that pee on the carpets and poo on the floor (well, perhaps the latter hasn’t yet happened, but it’s only a matter of time, if you ask me). But even so, the worst is Alina, because sometimes her mind wanders down paths that lead to unsettling places.

So what did she say today? I’ll tell you, Scribs. Have just a little more patience.

Merile and Alina were feeding the rats dried hare legs once more. The rats gnawed at the leather and bones, silent enough. Merile cooed over the rats as if they were the most perfect creatures ever to live. But Alina wouldn’t say a word, no matter how Merile coached her.

“What is it?” Merile finally asked.

Every one of us is concerned about Alina. More often than not, she leaves her meals untouched. Since we don’t know what she’ll taste, we’ll have to spike everything with her medicine: the porridge, the eye of butter, the cloudberry jam, the blackcurrant juice, and her tea. This is something our captors didn’t foresee, and we’re now running out of the supply. Based on the discussions Celestia has had with Captain Janlav, Alina’s medicine isn’t something that’s easily acquired here in the middle of nowhere.

Alina buried her head against the brown rat’s back. I really had to hearken my senses to make out her words. But this is what she said: “I fear something has happened to Mama.”

I think Merile has an inkling of what really came to pass, though Celestia and Elise won’t talk of it for fear of upsetting Alina. Try as we may to keep secrets from each other, there’s no way to hide the truth when we breathe the same air day after day. And lately, that air has been getting very stale indeed. Up till yesterday evening, we hadn’t been let out even once.

“Mama.” Merile sniffed, but her hold on the bone loosened so much that the black rat managed to snatch it for itself. I don’t know if she does it on purpose, but things have been slipping from her fingers more and more often lately. “Mama is the Crescent Empress. No harm can fall on her under the Moon.”

No matter how annoying Merile sometimes acts, I do admire her bravery. She knows her duty without having to be told. We must hold up the façade before Alina, for to her, ignorance is bliss. For a long time, I wanted to be older, but now I would like to be younger. Much younger. Too young to understand that Gagargi Prataslav’s schemes have torn Mama’s empire asunder.

Instead of being soothed by Merile’s words, Alina sank deeper into the sofa, taking the brown rat with her. Though her eyes are deep set, with perpetual dark circles around them, her gaze was strong and unwavering. Un-ignorable. One by one, Celestia, Elise, I, and Merile lowered our needles and teacups and whatnots and turned to face our little sister.

“A shadow of a swan visited me last night,” she said in a gossamer-thin, trembling voice. She clutched the brown rat against her chest. “Mama is dead.”

Celestia paled. She breathed rapidly through her mouth the denial every single one of us wanted to voice. “No…”

Elise clasped a hand over her mouth. “Surely…”

“A swan?” I asked, trying to make sense of what I’d heard. If Alina had been visited by our family’s charge, the most sacred bird… The scriptures say many things about swans, some truly terrifying when you stop to think about them.

“A shadow,” Merile repeated. This meant more to her. There was something Alina hadn’t shared with the rest of us, and I couldn’t figure it out then.

“It couldn’t keep her safe…” Alina burst into tears then. The brown rat on her lap turned around, whip-fast, to lick her face. That did little to soothe her. She only wailed louder. “Mama is dead!”

The wail battered against the lacquered wood panels, echoed through the length of the carriage. At once, Celestia was on her feet, and Elise too. I scooted after them, always clumsier and slower. Mama had decided to remain behind in the Summer City. She’d sent us away with the guards to keep us safe. But that wasn’t the whole story. We aren’t free to come and go as we please—we’re prisoners here.

“Now, now…” Celestia kneeled before the sofa, cupping Alina’s tear-stained cheeks with her slender hands. Her voice, when she spoke, was so ethereal and kind that I wanted to believe her too. “It was just a bad dream.”

Alina paused her bawling only to draw a shuddering breath. “No. Not a dream. I sheltered that shadow in my hem.”

The rat that had lain on Merile’s lap jumped down and rushed to lick Alina’s hands. Merile dashed after it to Alina’s left side. Elise settled on the other side. Uncertain of what to do or how to help, I hovered behind Celestia.

“Hush, now,” Celestia tried. There was one thing she’d said from the very beginning, one rule we had to adhere to, no matter how challenging it felt at times. We should never draw attention to ourselves. We had to wear the simple dresses we were told to wear. We had to eat the meager meals without a single complaint voiced. We had to establish a routine so that the guards would forget that we existed and when the time came for us to break the routine, it would take them longer to notice that. “Hush now, my little Alina.”

A series of trembles traveled from the tip of Alina’s head all the way to her tiny feet. “It wasn’t a dream,” she cried. “The swan told me. Mama is dead!”

If anything, her voice had gotten just louder! It chimed against the curtained windows, scattered from the osprey chandelier. I met Elise’s eyes by chance, and her expression mirrored my dread. This wasn’t good.

“Mama! Mama…”

But if there’s one positive thing to be said about Merile’s temper tantrums, it’s that the guards have grown as weary of them as we have. And yet, we couldn’t count on them not coming to investigate this disturbance. Eventually, they’d come.

“What do we do?” A part of me did believe Alina. Not a big part, but swans are sacred. If Mama were dead, if the guards learned that we knew of it, they’d want to know how we’d acquired this information. They would search through our cabins and carriages. Celestia’s master plan would no doubt be thwarted.

The same thought must have crossed Elise’s mind, for she muttered the most unbecoming curses under her breath. Where she’d learned such peasant manners, I can but wonder.

“Don’t say a word.” Celestia cast a warning look at us. She took a deep breath and met Alina’s gaze. “Hush now, we heard you. You fear for Mother.”

I nodded, but in my mind, I wondered if shocked little Alina had even registered Celestia’s words.

It was then that we heard the pounding of boots in the cloakroom. Soon after, the door opened and Captain Janlav entered the carriage. His midnight blue coat was buttoned all the way up, but it was missing two silver buttons. He didn’t wear a hat, and the once-shaved sides of his head grew short brown hair. His rifle rested against his back, and he didn’t seem inclined to unstrap it.

“What is going on here this time around?” He actually sighed.

Elise got up from her seat, elegantly, like a dove taking to the air. She circled the sofa that Merile had occupied earlier and smoothed her skirts in a way that promised she’d take care of the captain, no matter what that would require. Though now that he seemed bored to begin with, a kind smile from my sister might suffice.

I still didn’t know what to do. Just hover behind Celestia? I felt out of place, someone whose mere presence would call forth suspicion. I quickly stole Elise’s place on the sofa and hugged little Alina. At least she no longer wailed, merely sobbed. But her sobbing did wring my heartstrings.

“Captain Janlav,” Elise said, halting before the guard. She leaned toward him, her head angled minutely so that she could study him from under her red-gold brows. “That’s your name, soldier, isn’t it?”

For a moment, Captain Janlav stared at Elise as though he’d never met her before, in awe as if she were the most beautiful girl in this world. Which she may well be. His chapped lips parted. He closed his eyes. A shudder ran through his body. When he opened his eyes, he pointedly avoided looking at Elise, but gazed past her at us.

Oh, Scribs, how we must have looked to him! Girls with dirty, braided hair. White dresses no longer pristine, but stinking of sweat and stained at the hem and sleeves. Skin oily and flaking at the same time. All of us red-cheeked. One sobbing, the others distraught by this. It makes me want to cry when I think of what has become of us.

“Yes,” Captain Janlav replied to Elise at last. Sometimes I think even he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Perhaps he didn’t realize what it would be like to keep another human being as a captive for weeks. Perhaps it’s as painful for him to keep us locked in the carriage as it is for us to be so confined. I wonder… No, I’m sure he doesn’t know what the gagargi is hoping to accomplish. But he must know where we’re heading. Can it be worse there than it is here?

Elise circled the captain so that if he wanted to address her, he’d need to do so with his back against us. She glanced past him, at us, with one eyebrow cocked. From that I gathered that she wanted Alina distracted. I pressed my hands over our little sister’s ears as if we were about to play some silly game. Celestia caught my intention and made a funny face at her. Since when has the empress-to-be known how to do such!

“Our little sister…” Elise offered the captain a girlish shrug, one that spoke of embarrassment, but also positioned her assets in the most flattering angle. This too, had to be something she’d practiced before her mirrors. If you must know, Scribs, I haven’t touched my hand mirror since we boarded this train, but seeing my sister utilize her skills renewed my resolve to practice mine. “You know of her condition.”

Captain Janlav’s posture betrayed nothing of what he might have been thinking. Our little sister’s weakness was a secret, but not a particularly well-kept one. Since our captors had had the foresight to pack with them her medicine, they had to know of it. “Yes. I’m aware of it.”

I did wonder then if he’d ever been capable of forming full sentences. Once upon a time, Elise had danced with this man. She claimed she’d kissed him on multiple occasions, that they’d been in love. But now, he acted as if they’d never met. Or if they had, it was on the night that he’d escorted us into this train, and that was it.

“She’s not eating or sleeping,” Elise said, every word the truth. “There has been a turn for the worse in her condition.”

Captain Janlav glanced over his shoulder, brown eyes narrowing. He isn’t a stupid man; the opposite. He could sense something was afoot.

Elise reached out to grab his arm, but he strode to us, too fast for her to stop him. Despite his determination, he moved silently, akin to a hunter. The carpet must have dulled the thud of his boots.

As he approached, Celestia, Elise, I, and Merile stared at him in a horror of sorts. If he’d ask Alina what ailed her, she’d tell. That much was for sure. I could already see it, the guards turning over every pillow and blanket, finding you, Scribs, and the pearl bracelets Celestia had made. They’d confiscate them and keep us locked in our cabins. Day and night through. We’d never see the sky again.

Captain Janlav halted behind Celestia. He motioned for me to remove my hands from over Alina’s ears. I did so hastily, hoping he wouldn’t notice how much they trembled.

“Well then, little one, what is it that has so unsettled you?” It was the kindness in his voice I hadn’t expected. He was our captor. I wanted to think of him as an evil man. But that he is not.

Alina’s colorless lips parted. Her tiny teeth peeked out. She blinked as if she were not quite sure where she was, and with whom.

I prayed to Papa for her to not say it, for anything else to happen. Anything at all… Oh, Scribs, that’s exactly what happened.

Alina spasmed. Her back arched violently, and her head lolled uncontrollably. She squealed a disquieting sound, something an injured animal might shriek. I shrank away from her, fearing I’d caused the spasm, by asking Papa for help. But now that I think of it, it can’t have been that, but rather the shock of finding Captain Janlav there, looming over her.

I did burst into tears, and so did Merile. But Captain Janlav brushed Celestia aside briskly and kneeled before Alina. “Hold her still.”

Elise took my place. Celestia replaced Merile at Alina’s side. They clamped their hands around our little sister’s arms.

“Do hold her still,” Captain Janlav repeated calmly, as if he’d seen the worst things that can come to pass in life. Well, he’s a soldier. Perhaps he has. “Hold her head still.”

Elise pressed her body against Alina’s, pinning our little sister against the sofa. Celestia cupped her head. Captain Janlav bent over her.

“You must not let her move,” Captain Janlav said, and then, without waiting for further acknowledgement, he pried little Alina’s lids up, one at a time.

Only the whites of her eyes showed. His lips pressed into a tight line. I don’t know what he’d expected to see. Us using our little sister as a ruse? Could he really think that ill of us?

Alina spasmed again, so forcefully I feared her back would snap. It was at that horrifying moment that two more guards stormed into our carriage. One was the big burly man with a protruding belly. We don’t know his name, but I’ve named him Belly. The other was gnarly and narrow, even younger than Captain Janlav. Him, I’ve named Boy.

“What are they up to this time around?” Belly brandished a rifle as if he’d had it in his mind to teach us a lesson.

“Can’t you see?” Captain Janlav shouted back at him. He pressed Alina’s shoulders, to keep her down. A wet spot appeared on her lap. My poor sister had lost control of her bladder.

Belly and Boy glanced at each other. Boy looked as if he were about to snigger or make a distasteful remark.

“Close the door,” Captain Janlav growled at them. “Wait outside. That’s a direct order from me, and thus from the gagargi himself.”

Belly and Boy paled. Belly fumbled with his rifle as if guns could solve anything, least of all heal my sister. Boy grabbed his arm and led the older man out. But even as the door clicked shut, Alina kept on spasming.

“Is there anyone with medical skills aboard?” Celestia asked. The Moon bless us that she’s the empress-to-be, rational even in the most distressing of situations!

Captain Janlav shook his head, worry etching chasms on his forehead. “No.”

It was then that the full meaning of the words he’d said to Belly and Boy dawned upon me. He’s in charge of this operation and, it seems, also of our safety. If anything were to happen to us, Gagargi Prataslav would hold him accountable for that.

“We must…” Elise paused to swallow a sob. Her gray eyes were doe-wide, pleading. “We must get her help.”

But just as suddenly as Alina had started spasming, she stilled. No, that’s not the right word. She collapsed onto the sofa as if she had not a single strand of strength left in her body. Her narrow chest sank with a shuddering exhale. Then her breathing resumed a shallow rhythm. Her eyes remained closed.

“We will get her help,” Captain Janlav said. He squeezed Elise’s shoulder in a way that might have been just a reflex or then meant something much more. Then he left without as much as looking over his shoulder.

Scribs, it was truly terrible. Almost the most terrible thing I’ve ever witnessed! The scriptures, yes you know it, I’ve been reading them because there isn’t anything else to read here. And though I might have once claimed so to dear Notes, I don’t know them by heart. I hardly ever bothered to read a full chapter before. But there’s one sentence that brought me comfort as I repeated it in my mind.

After all the wrong, there will be right.

After all the wrong, there will be right.

After all the wrong, there will be right.

The day passed slowly as my sisters and I patted Alina’s forehead with a cold, wet cloth and massaged her arms and legs. The nameless servant woman came to clean, but she couldn’t quite scrub off the yellow stain on the sofa. She helped us change Alina’s dress. She eyed our little sister, radiating pity, and then spoke the first words we’d ever heard from her, or any of the other servants, for that matter. She offered to spoon honeyed tea into Alina’s mouth. We told her not to bother, since Alina would spit it out. And then we tried that ourselves, in the hopes that it might revive her.

It didn’t, and the servant left soon after, no doubt to report this turn of events to Captain Janlav.

Eventually, when the day turned blue, the train’s speed decelerated. I felt tempted to run to the door and bang on it with my bare fists. Though we’ve stopped at numerous stations during the journey, we’ve never been let out. Celestia said early on that we shouldn’t let people know our identity. Mama’s empire is still infested with unrests, and many vehemently hate anyone with noble blood in their veins. There are people out there who are ready to harm us just for who we are, in ways that I don’t want to think about (though sometimes when I lie alone in my cabin, I do, and then I feel cold inside and can’t sleep for hours), even if we’ve played no part in what has so angered them. Curious as it is, as long as we remain in the train, we’re safe.

But now Alina… my poor little sister was ill. She needed help, and that help wasn’t available in the train.

The train halted in a small town, or it might have been a village—Elise peeked through the crack between the curtains to report this. We listened to the sounds of the train being fueled and watered. And then, after what felt like ages, rather than hearing the train rattle into motion, we heard the key turn in the lock of the cloakroom’s door. The servant entered without as much as a knock. Boy tramped in after her, without as much as a greeting. They strode through the carriage, to the door leading to our cabins, and out.

“I wonder what that was about,” Merile muttered.

I was too tired to even think about it.

It didn’t take long for us to find out. The servant and Boy returned with the blankets that barely kept us warm during the nights. Captain Janlav entered the carriage almost at the exact same moment.

“Wrap into the blankets,” Captain Janlav ordered. Then he marched to the sofa, where Alina still lay wrapped in Merile’s fur cloak. He lifted her up as if she weighed nothing at all. Celestia hastened to tug the cloak better around our sister. He shrugged her aside. “Follow me. Say not a word. Run not a step.”

Those were the conditions we had to agree to. It wasn’t a hard choice for us. We wanted to help Alina more than anything else in the world.

We donned the blankets as cloaks and rushed after him like animals released from a cage. Our freedom was short-lived, however. As soon as we stepped out of the train, the four remaining guards, the ones that always stink of liquor and cigarettes, formed lines on both our sides. Boy held the back.

I didn’t care. I was ecstatic to walk under the open sky once more. The day was just about to yield to the night, and everything was of that particular shade of blue that not even the most talented artists can quite capture. The clouds, the snowfields, the shadows bore the blue veil proudly. The freezing cold air stung my nostrils, tickled my lungs. Yet I puffed white clouds in excitement. For at that moment I remembered what it felt like to be free.

The town was small. A dozen or so two-story log buildings loomed over the main street. There was just enough space for my sisters and me on the path that the townspeople had trampled during the day. Fresh snow crunched under the guards’ boots—they had to walk through the snow banks. We must have made a strange sight: Captain Janlav carrying my sister, four girls wrapped in gray blankets, akin to ghosts in the falling darkness, guarded by soldiers who might pass as our shadows.

We neither saw nor encountered anyone as we walked to the end of the main street. There, we took a lane to the right and continued a bit farther. At first, I didn’t see the cottage. The town had no streetlights, which wasn’t that surprising, since we hadn’t sped through a city in a week.

I wanted to ask if this was where the doctor lived, but then I remembered Captain Janlav’s instructions (which had sounded more like a warning to me) and bit my tongue instead. The same thought must have crossed Merile’s mind, for she and her rats trod on my hem. When I glared at her from over my shoulder, the question was writ across her brown face.

Since Captain Janlav was carrying Alina, he wasn’t the one to pound on the door. Beard was. As his red-gloved fist landed against the thick planks, it felt like an omen, and that made me think of Nurse Nookes, whom I’d sometimes called a witch, though she most certainly wasn’t one.

But perhaps it was witchcraft that I happened to think of her just then. I kid you not here, Scribs. You’ll believe me when I describe to you the strange events that unfolded next.

The door opened, but no one waited behind it. An aroma of crushed nettles and garlic gasped against us, so thick I could taste it. Captain Janlav stepped in without hesitation, Celestia at his heels. Elise made sure to tag along so close after her that no guard could slip in between, and I and Merile did likewise. Then the small cottage was already so full that the remaining guards didn’t dare to squeeze in.

“Fire. I shall warm myself by the fire!” Merile limped to the fireplace, where a black kettle boiled above glowing embers. Her rats trotted after her as if nothing else mattered. As if they were right at home in the cottage.

My eyes took a while to get accustomed to the dark interior. I first felt the bunches of dried herbs and feathers brush against my head rather than saw them. A crude table occupied most of the room. Jars and glass bottles lay scattered on the wide planks. There was a small alcove at the back of the room. A woman emerged from there.

“Honored midwife, the little one has taken ill.” Captain Janlav wagered a step toward the woman.

The old woman halted before him. A shawl as black as an old crow’s feathers drooped against her hunched back. Her gray hair rested against the nape of her neck, in a knot that I doubted could be undone. Age emphasized her features, the beaky nose and beady eyes that a milky veil of blindness shrouded. Her blue-tinted lips drooped against her teeth so that I could easily distinguish the shape of each. She glanced at Alina, then past me at the open door and the guards there. No, not quite at her or the guards, but at their feet. She croaked, “Close door.”

Beard met Captain Janlav’s eyes from across the room. The captain nodded curtly. The soldier instantly obeyed. From this exchange I deduced that both of them were (and still are) desperate to keep my sisters and me safe, if you can believe that, Scribs. But about that we can debate later. Let me tell you what came to pass now before I stop believing it myself.

Once the cottage’s door creaked shut, with the guards remaining outside, the old woman turned her full attention to us. At first I didn’t understand what she was looking at—our uncomfortable sabots or the snow we’d brought in. Then it struck me. Though blind, she was, quite impossibly, studying our shadows.

“You say honored midwife…” The old woman spat on the gnarled plank floor. She stamped her sturdy boot over the phlegm and swirled it as if to put out a cigarette. “Bah! Say as it be or me no help.”

Captain Janlav glanced at Celestia, then Elise. The corner of his mouth twitched, as did his moustache. There was indecision in him. Desperation, too. “Very well. I’ll say it.”

The old woman stared at him, her blind gaze bright with wisdom and age. In the light of the embers, it seemed to me that her black clothes shimmered and took on strange hues, red and yellow of autumn, those of glorious decay. Though I’ve worn the most luxurious of clothes myself, I’ve never seen any fabric behave in that way.

“Help the little one,” Captain Janlav said, “Witch at the End of the Lane.”

I gasped, for as soon as he named her, it all made sense. The cottage I hadn’t at first noticed, the old woman’s strange demeanor, his hesitation before her. My sisters and I, we’d been brought to a place of darkness, and danger, even. Celestia’s shoulders drew back as if she were about to speak, but of what, I couldn’t even begin to guess.

The witch waved my eldest sister quiet, barely missing a bouquet of herbs tied to dry from the low ceiling beam running across the length of the cottage. She was more commanding than my sister, the one who would be the empress sooner than any one of us could have predicted. Oh, Mama… No, I won’t think of that. I will write of the witch.

“No talk. Me look.” The witch hustled to the other side of the table and swept the bottles and jars aside. She motioned Captain Janlav to lower Alina. He didn’t move, not till he received a nod from Celestia. As frail and young as our sister is, she fit on the cleared table with space to spare.

The witch gazed beside Alina, at the shadow that folded itself on Merile’s white cloak. Her grin revealed the gaps between her crooked teeth. Then she gestured at the door, her words aimed at Captain Janlav. “Now you go out.”

Captain Janlav’s shoulders hitched up. His hands curled into fists as if he could only barely refrain from unstrapping his rifle and aiming it at the witch. “It’s my responsibility to…”

The witch cut the air like a bird’s wing strikes. Her almost see-through sleeve shifted about her arm long after the movement itself had ceased.

“You here. No help. Matters with woman’s body.” The witch traced with her finger the shadow of our little sister. “Even girl’s. No cure when men present.”

Captain Janlav’s jaw set hard and his brows knit tight. I could almost sense what he was thinking. Alina needed help that no one but the witch could offer. My sisters and I were his responsibility, his prisoners. Would we tell the witch of our distress? What could she do to help us? Could we escape through the tiny windows behind the table? No, they were too small. Was there a back door? No, none at all.

“Very well then,” he grunted, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I’ll wait outside. But if I hear anything alarming, my men and I shall storm in, with drawn swords and loaded rifles.”

The witch smiled in a self-satisfied, smug manner as the captain strode out and pressed the door shut behind him. I expected her to ask us questions next: who we were, why we’d come to her. She didn’t. Instead, she brushed her hands against her black hem, and it seemed to me as if her fingers sank into the fabric (in the dim light it was impossible to be sure of anything). Then she bent over Alina, to study what ailed our sister.

“She has a condition,” Celestia said in a gentle voice barely audible over the crackling of the embers and the hiss of boiling water. We knew how to tell the litany without prompting for every single one of the doctors who had visited Alina, all asking the exact same questions.

“Condition, they call it?” The witch glared at Celestia from under her bushy, gray-brown eyebrows. The whiteness over her eyes ran thicker. “Me can see that much with me own eyes.”

I expected Celestia to argue, Elise to cry a protest. But neither of them said a word. Merile and her rats remained by the fire, unfazed, unmoving. Were they that cold, or under some sort of spell? I think the latter, but I won’t ever know for sure. And now that I think of it, Scribs, it’s better that way.

The witch, still bent over Alina, parted my sister’s lips, and sniffed at her breath. Her bulbous nostrils flared. She shook her head. “Sweet. Why?”

I glanced at Celestia and Elise. They’d been as much as told to remain silent. Was I supposed to speak? Perhaps I was.

“She hates honey,” I said. But since that alone sounded dumb, I added, “We thought she might wake up.”

“Now you think?” The witch cackled. Not one of us joined the laughter. She paid no heed to us. Instead, she placed her ear against Alina’s chest. She listened for a long time; such a long time that I was about to ask if there was truly something very terribly wrong with Alina.

The witch held up her bony forefinger. Her nail curled like a rusting scythe. I dared not to even breathe.

At last, the witch raised her head. Her gaze, when she unleashed it upon my sisters and me, was white and filled with wisdom beyond even her years. “Little one be with shadows.”

A shiver crawled down my back. Alina spoke of shadows all the time. But that was because of the illness that affected her mind. That was what the doctors had said, at least. It’s of course preposterous to think that the men of modern medicine might have been wrong. But as I huddled next to my sisters in the witch’s cottage, it seemed very much possible that even though Alina is the youngest, she could somehow see and even visit the world beyond this one, the place where shadows dwell.

The witch cocked her head, waiting for us to tell her more about the shadows. I knew Celestia wouldn’t—she’s too rational to acknowledge this possibility. Elise wouldn’t either—she thinks with her heart and would never say anything that might show our sister in a bad light. I knew, I don’t know how and why, that the witch wouldn’t help Alina if she sensed that we were hiding something from her. It was up to me to say it.

“A shadow of a swan visited our sister.”

The witch placed her palms against the table and leaned over Alina’s still body, toward us. “Swan shadow, you say?”

Scribs, I feared it then, that I’d said the wrong thing, revealed too much. The way Captain Janlav had studied the witch’s cottage was a clear warning. We shouldn’t tell her who we are. That might put her in danger.

“And news? This swan bear news?”

How could she possibly know? I shuddered as I thought of it, the cry from our little sister’s lips. The words I wanted to be a product of her shaken mind, not the truth.

“Our honored mother is dead,” Celestia said, not in a whisper as I would have done if I’d ever found the courage, but as a statement that couldn’t be proven false.

The witch circled around the table, running her finger along the smooth line of our little sister’s shadow. She halted before Celestia, Elise, and me, ignoring Merile. It struck me then that the witch considered Merile a child, too young to participate in the conversation meant only for adults. But in her blind eyes, I, who had yet to debut, was old enough to agree or disagree with her.

“You five…” This close, the witch’s clothes seemed even stranger, almost translucent. She wore a dozen, no dozens of layers of thin black cloth, wrapped around her in an intricate, shifting pattern. “You come with guards.”

I couldn’t stand her scrutiny. As curiosity toward a witch can never end well, I glued my gaze on the floor. But that turned out to be the exact wrong thing to do, for her shadow led a life of its own. She was old and young at the same time, dancing and stooping, and I’m not kidding at all here, Scribs!

“Swan shadow deliver you news…” The witch’s croaky voice trailed off. She didn’t need to say more. She knew who we are.

Scribs, now that I think of it further, I shouldn’t have said what I did. But the witch was the first person apart from the guards that we’d talked to since we had to leave home. The words kind of slipped out of my mouth unbidden. “Will you help us?”

Elise grabbed my arm, fingers squeezing through my blanket and sleeve. That was my chastisement. I’d confirmed to the witch she’d guessed right. And by doing so I’d placed her in some degree of danger.

“Me witch,” the witch said, in what I assumed was a proud tone. “Me help little one. That be in my power. Anything else…” She rubbed her elbow against her side and made a sound that resembled a fart! But if for a moment I was flabbergasted, even amused, her next words brought me back to the world of gloom. “Fail it be.”

What harsh words, even from a witch! Elise’s hand remained curled around my arm, no longer a source of punishment, but one of comfort. I think the feeling was mutual.

“We accept your terms,” Celestia said, and promptly proceeded to spit in her palm. Elise and I stared at her in awe. Our eldest sister was ready to make a deal with a witch! Those never came without a price, something you thought you were willing to give up, but that would cost you more than you realized.

The witch spat in her own, callused palm. She clasped hands with Celestia. She stared at her feet, at the swelling shadow around my sister. “You know what me want.”

“I shall give it to you gladly,” Celestia replied.

After the deal was signed, the witch set to work. She hovered around the cottage, reaching up for the ingredients she’d need in her spell. In the dimness it was hard to see, and I’d never been that good at naming plants, not unless they grew in abundance in the Summer Palace’s gardens. But I did recognize birch leaves shriveled to gray-green, and fir and juniper branches. Nettles. Daffodils. And dozens, if not hundreds of plants I had no idea about, a variety of moss and lichen too. Feathers of all sorts, those of magpie set separately, those of other birds bundled together. I might have been imagining it, but amidst the plants and feathers hung bones, dried feet of chicken and rodents perhaps. Things better not to think about or risk losing sleep over.

“Summer memory, grass, bare feet.” The witch lowered a long strand of what I hoped was just ordinary grass on the table, next to Alina. She glanced at Merile’s unmoving shape before the fireplace and said, “Lupine stem, you see too much.”

The rats by Merile’s side stirred then. The black one turned to stare at the witch. So did the brown one. The witch shook her head at them. “You. No time yet. You sleep.”

The rats lay down. They understood the witch’s words better than I did.

I wrapped my arms across my chest. Elise noticed my discomfort. She placed her arm around my shoulder. “She’s helping us.”

I knew that much, but still, any sensible person is afraid of a witch. Hence, I waited till the witch had drifted to the alcove before I whispered in as low voice as I could, “But she knows too much of us.”

“Hush,” Elise whispered back at me. “She can do us no harm.”

But the only light in the cottage came from the red-black embers. The tiny, thick windows didn’t let in the Moon’s light. That must have contributed to Captain Janlav’s agreeing to wait outside. Our father couldn’t see us. He couldn’t come to our aid.

The witch returned to the table. In her right hand she clutched a clay jar. In her left a piece of dry rye bread balanced on top of a carved cup. “Sweet, one love, other hate. Give away. Again. More.”

Elise’s arm, still around my shoulders, tensed. The honey was meant to represent me. The rye bread? That symbolized Elise, but why and how? And why did my sister react as she did?

“One more,” the witch said, motioning Celestia to meet her at the end of the table.

In the dim, red light, my fair sister resembled a spark itself. Something that strived, for a moment, with unfathomable beauty and vibrancy, but perished when it strayed too far from home, into the merciless night. “What shall it be?”

“Your finger,” the witch said, and I did gasp and Elise gasped too.

But Celestia boldly held out her little finger. If she feared that the witch might cut it off, no trace of that showed on her face, or in her posture for that matter. The witch cackled as she brought her thumbnail against my sister’s fingertip and promptly nicked the skin. “In cup it go.”

Celestia poised her hand above the cup. A tiny red drop swelled on the curve of her fingertip. It swelled larger, burst. Her blood trickled into the cup.

“Enough,” the witch said, and Celestia stepped aside, sucking her finger. Scribs, the scriptures say that our blood contains power. Then again, your pages say many things. One day I’ll figure out what’s nonsense and what’s actually useful. I swear to you that, and if you really want to call yourself my friend one day, you’ll hold me accountable for it.

“You watch,” the witch said to Celestia, Elise, and me before she gestured at Merile. Our sister hadn’t shifted an inch since entering the cottage. “Or you not. If you watch, you not stop. If you not watch, you not see.”

Celestia nodded regally. As she’s the eldest, it’s her duty to watch over us. Elise shook her head and withdrew her arm from around me. She wanted no part in the witchcraft to come. I hesitated, I admit. A part of me wanted to wait by the fireplace, to warm up, to forget. But a greater part of me wanted to know what would come to pass, even if this would cost me dearly later. I shuffled to Celestia even as Elise joined Merile.

The witch grinned at me, somehow pleased by my choice. “You watch. No more. No matter what come pass.”

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.