Leena Likitalo - The Sisters of the Crescent Empress

“Troika,” Irina wails. “Troika. Troika.”

“Away,” Olesia adds, and I can tell that they are trying their best, though each word costs them more than any have ever cost me. Soon there will be nothing left of them but a fading memory of younger Daughters of the Moon.

“Thank you.” I nod at the ghosts. This is what I agreed with the gagargi. Though it is late already, whichever of the two captains enters the room, he will demand I leave this house immediately. Any more delays might mean that I mightn’t arrive in the Summer City in time for the ceremony.

“Which one of us will you choose?” Elise asks, her voice bright as if she really expected me to follow through with the deal I manipulated the gagargi into accepting. She has changed more than I have, but out of her own will or under someone’s influence, that I don’t know. But I shall not forget she betrayed me once already, that she is young and idealistic, dangerous to a degree.

“Either we all go or no one goes.” I repeat what I have said so many times before. I won’t leave this house with one of my sisters and abandon the others in the hands of Captain Ansalov, regardless of what Elise may insist.

Sibilia nods at me, glares at Elise. Merile takes hold of Alina’s hand. But little Alina, she seems completely unafraid, the last thing I expected. As I meet her gaze, I realize she is sure I will keep her safe, that I will live up to my promise to protect her from the gagargi and his horrid machine.

“Coming.” Irina drifts to the door, fists clenched against her chin. As she quivers her shape disintegrates, her voice hoarsens. “Coming. Coming.”

And then the heavy, determined steps already rattle on the stairs. Those familiar. Those these hallways haven’t known for weeks.

“Let us be ready then,” I say to my sisters, and step forth, to stand at the exact center of the room. My sisters hurry into an arc behind me, in the order of age, though Elise does so reluctantly. No matter what she claims, a part of her believes that I will triumph tonight. Indeed, the time has come for me to use the strength bestowed on me, that of my very own soul, to alter the mind of the person who steps through the door.

The door opens with a slow creak. The ghosts flee, out of their own mind or out of fright I don’t know, and presently I must focus on the task at hand, the one that surpasses all others in its direness.

I pronounce the glyph.

“Evening.” Captain Ansalov marches in, a letter with a broken red seal creased in one outstretched hand. His curly brown hair springs with his steps, but his beady green eyes are without emotion other than fierce devotion. From this I know the gagargi addressed the orders to him. He is in charge tonight.

Captain Janlav follows two steps behind Captain Ansalov, quick and sure with his movements, but undecided yet in his mind. I can tell this from the way he stares at Captain Ansalov, how his gaze darts from us to the door and the guards and soldiers that crowd the hallway beyond. His gaze meets Belly’s, and the guard wide and tall closes the door before anyone else can enter the room. Though my sisters and I may have appeared meek in the captain’s eyes for many months, he is no fool. He knows that I will not simply give up.

And this is exactly what I have counted on him doing, sealing us in with no unnecessary personages left to witness what may come to pass. I part my lips and let the glyph out. “Good evening to you, too, Captain Ansalov. Captain Janlav.”

As the glyph transforms into a spell, it feels as if I were standing in the Moon’s light. The silver threads of the spell bear my beloved’s touch, and they are visible only to Sibilia and me. I feel inhumanly strong, almost invincible, but this is just an illusion. I didn’t triumph over the gagargi, merely delayed this moment. I must proceed with the greatest care and caution.

As Captain Ansalov strides toward me, I wrap the threads into a cap around his head. He halts abruptly, a step away from me. Now that I am married to the Moon, his magic comes to me in a more structured, more understandable way. This spell is intricately woven, one for me to control, not one as wild as the one with which I so crudely attacked the gagargi.

“Daughters…” My sisters and Captain Janlav wait for Captain Ansalov to announce his grim news. Captain Ansalov clenches his jaw as I press the silver net through his hair, against his skull. He scratches the back of his head, fingers sinking deep into his thick curls.

Captain Janlav clicks his heels together. Though the silence has lasted for mere seconds, he is suspicious, aware that I may be trying something he might not even comprehend. He glances past me at Elise, searches for a confirmation. The walls of this house are thin—I have heard if not seen the bonds forged between them. I can discern all of this in his voice. “Good evening, daughters.”

My sisters remain in the arc behind me, as I have earlier instructed them to do. Apart from Sibilia, they don’t know about the glyph or the spell. Yet they have placed their lives in my hands. Alina, Merile, Sibilia, even Elise, they believe in our father’s powers, if not yet in mine.

“Daughters. Celestia.” Captain Ansalov brandishes the once-sealed orders. I ram the cap against his head, push it through the skin. I don’t plan on altering his mind, rather the orders he thinks he has read. For the closer I stay to the truth, the easier Sibilia says it will be to make him believe what I say. “Gagargi Prataslav has sent for you.”

I meet his gaze, boldly, as is the right of the oldest Daughter of the Moon and that of the Crescent Empress. His skull, though made of bone, yields under the spell. Captain Ansalov’s body tenses, and his winter-bitten fingers curl tighter around the letter. Some might consider it terrifying to have this much power, to be able to change the course of events, history even, with mere words said. But this is how it has always been for the Crescent Empress. “My sisters and I are ready.”

And from this moment on I am alone, as the empresses of the past have always been. I dare not to divide my attention to how my sisters fare, to more than one mind. I have chosen to tackle the more dangerous man first.

For mine is the touch of my father and my husband, and under it, Captain Ansalov’s mind is red and raw, a tangle of orders received and followed. I sense this, though I don’t know the details, I don’t possess the skill to see them. But I can imagine their content. The orders are from those higher in rank than him, a few are from my mother, and then, some are from the gagargi himself. I can also sense that this isn’t the first time his mind has been tampered with.

I had expected that with my beloved’s help I would be able to separate these commands from each other with ease. But there is no way to further tell them apart. Quickly I realize the only available approach is to alter as many as I can. And that is what I do.

Three decades of service translates to hundreds, if not thousands, of deeds done in the name of those more powerful. I imprint my will against each order, perfectly aware that I am thus fast draining the strength my beloved blessed me with. But soon I realize, not Captain Ansalov’s. His will has been eradicated so many times that the only thing that has persisted is a blind sense to obey without reason or thought for consequences; the only way for him to bear this is to enjoy doing so.

“Shall we, then?” Captain Janlav’s question brings me back to the moment.

A headache buds behind my eyes, and the silver threads connecting me to Captain Ansalov’s mind flicker. What I have done may suffice or then turn out to be nowhere near enough. At this point, perhaps the best course of action is to wait, simply maintain the spell with what little is left of my beloved’s strength.