Leena Likitalo - The Sisters of the Crescent Empress

“Shall we sort out the details, then?” Captain Ansalov’s question is more like a statement than any sort of suggestion. He sits down and lowers the gramophone’s needle. The song continues where it last ended.

“Please do.” Celestia says the first word she’s said since we left the train. She doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead, she glides to the fireplace, and motions me and my sisters to follow her. We brush the melting snow off the blankets, from our wind-whipped braids. Elise takes tiny dance steps as she holds her palms toward the flames. Sibilia looks as if she’s tempted to do likewise. Merile cuddles Rafa and Mufu in turns. With the warmth and my sisters around me, I feel a little bit better. Maybe we haven’t come to a really, really bad place. But we’re not yet where we should be either.

The two captains make arrangements, voices so low that I can’t make them out, but I keep on trying. I shouldn’t forget for even a moment that we’re not free to come and go as we please. Celestia doesn’t have to tell me that now we can but wait and see what will happen next. Any attempt to resist wouldn’t end well. It’s too cold and dark outside, and we have no friends here. Even those who have our best interests in mind only obey the gagargi.

Both familiar and unfamiliar men enter and leave the room as summoned by both the familiar and unfamiliar captain. Me and my sisters listen to the same song a dozen times or more. Celestia stares intently at the flames as though she could hear the words hiding behind the music. Maybe she can—she’s the oldest and she sees into the world beyond this one. But even though I try, I still can’t do either.

Eventually the song ends once more, and the door opens for what I guess might be for the last time. I think we’ve waited for hours already. That is, my fingers no longer hurt, though my hair is still a bit damp, not to mention my blanket. There are small puddles on the floor at our feet.

“The troikas are ready,” the short soldier, Vasal, calls out from the doorway. He has a lit cigarette sticking out from the corner of his mouth. The wind herds the stink in.

Celestia stirs. She turns around to face Captain Ansalov and Captain Janlav. The men shake hands, a sign they’ve agreed on something, even if both still seem tense. I don’t think they’ll ever become friends.

“Come, then.” Captain Janlav waves curtly toward the door. I can see Boy and Tabard waiting outside. They must be cold if they’ve stayed out the whole time. But I don’t feel sorry for them. Why would I, when me and my sisters are the ones who have no say in where we’re going?

“Wait.” Celestia’s voice is soft and shiny, the words almost visible. “Captain Ansalov…”

And curiously enough, Captain Ansalov strolls past his desk, toward Celestia, his expression blank. He bows his head. He reaches out for my sister’s pale, slender hands. She lets him touch her fingers. His chapped lips part, but not a word comes out.

“You are still a good man.” Celestia’s eyes grow very blue. The pale hair braided around her head glistens silvery. Though she has a gray blanket around her shoulders, like all of us, for a moment it almost looks as if she were wearing white. “You only did your duty, what you thought was right.”

“Come, then,” Captain Janlav repeats. Or is this the first time he says the words?

Celestia casts Captain Ansalov one last look, and somehow, it’s ripe with understanding. He gazes back at her, confused, even as my sister glides past him, toward the doorway, into the darkness.

The storm has died while we were inside, leaving behind snowbanks and a calm that I know won’t last. One of the buildings must be a stable, for troikas and soldiers astride furry horses wait for us on the other side of the square. As we plod toward them, I can’t stop thinking of Celestia and what she said to Captain Ansalov. When I’m tired, I sometimes I imagine things, like earlier today. I’m not sure which was the case now, and it feels important to me to know for sure. But pinching the underside of my arm doesn’t help, and so I turn to Merile. “What was that about?”

“What. What was what?” Merile whispers back at me, not wanting our older sisters to hear us. “Nothing. It was nothing.”

Which means that something definitely happened.

“Nothing…” But before I can say more, Rafa and Mufu suddenly halt before us, one paw up, ears tight against their delicate heads. They growl in turns, and then they start bouncing in place.

“Go on, sillies.” Merile holds her blanket against her chest with one hand, claps her thigh with the other, even as our older sisters wade farther away from us. “Go on.”

But her companions pay no heed to her. I glance over my shoulder. Boy, who keeps up the rear, is but a few steps away from us. He would never kick Merile’s companions, but who says what the garrison soldiers might do if they were to cause a delay.

And then I realize what Rafa and Mufu must have seen, smelled before we did.

“Hunting dogs,” I whisper. The soldiers by the troikas hold leashed great, gray-black hounds that from this far away more resemble wolves than dogs. The hounds lean against their collars as if they were intent on springing upon us. Yet, the horses harnessed before the sleds seem calm.

“Rats,” Boy laughs as he strides beside us. I stare at him in horror. What will he do to my sister’s companions?

Nothing evil. He picks up Rafa under one arm, Mufu under the other. He does so with ease, though my sister’s companions struggle and squirm. “Can’t stay here the whole night.”

Merile sniffs. She doesn’t want the guards touching her dogs. But I don’t see it as a bad thing that the guards we’ve traveled with for six weeks turn out to be… kind of nice. Or perhaps they seem nice only because now we can compare them to Captain Ansalov and his soldiers.

Boy escorts Merile and me the rest of the way to our sisters, and once more, we gather into a crescent, this time before the troikas. The hounds study us with hungry eyes, leashes taut. They’re brutes with clipped ears and clipped tails, their leather collars studded with spikes.

“Here you go.” Boy hands Mufu over to Merile and Rafa to me. I clutch the still-growling dog against my chest. Though her kin is much bigger, grimmer, she’d protect me against them with all her might.

“What?” Merile tilts her chin up. She pats Mufu repeatedly, but her companion won’t calm down. “What are we waiting for?”

Boy trots aside, avoiding the question. Maybe he has a soft spot for animals only, not for us. And then I see why he didn’t linger. Captain Ansalov is marching toward us, through the knee-deep snow, ice crackling under each step. He brings his ungloved hand to his lips and lets out a whistle so shrill I want to cover my ears, but can’t as then I’d have to let go of Rafa.

“Here, boys,” Captain Ansalov calls. The soldiers quickly unleash the hounds, and the horrid creatures dart to their master. I’m sure he doesn’t keep them for company, but for…

I glance at Celestia, at Elise and Sibilia, but they stand as still as ever, even as Captain Ansalov approaches us with his ugly dogs. If Captain Janlav and the train guards weren’t with us, I would run. That’s how threatened I feel. Rafa must sense this, for she nudges me, as if to tell me that everything will be all right.

“Your hunting dogs?” Captain Janlav notes, more for our benefit than for him to have doubted this for even a moment.

“Excellent dogs. Bred them myself. You can’t find a hound with a sharper nose anywhere in the whole empire.” Captain Ansalov pats one of the dogs on the side. No, it’s not a pat, but more like a slap. “There’s a good boy! There’s a good, smart boy.”