Leena Likitalo: The Five Daughters of the Moon

“Children are not tarnished by personal pursuits or the other faults that come with a name.”

Anywhere. The voice is faint, and yet I’d recognize it anywhere. I stumble to a halt. Rafa and Mufu bump into my legs, tangling into my hem. What is Gagargi Prataslav doing here, so far away from the center of the party?

I’ve never liked the gagargi—something I share with Alina—and I’m not particularly keen on seeing him now. But I do want to know with whom he’s talking, for I suspect he might be up to something.

Gagargi Prataslav’s Great Thinking Machine devours human souls, though no one wants to believe it. That is, Elise laughed at me when I told her what I’d seen, and cautioned me that if I were to make such a joke before anyone else I’d soon find myself sipping Nurse Nookes’s potions. After that, I didn’t have the courage to mention what I’d seen to anyone else, and the next day I learned that Mama had rebuked the gagargi’s plan, thank the Moon!

But now, Gagargi Prataslav might have other plans. I sneak farther down the corridor lit by duck-soul lamps.

“I knew upon first seeing you that I could place my trust in you. You are wise beyond your years. Many times wiser than those who have made so many unfortunate decisions in the past.” A pause. Someone must have replied to the gagargi. “Indeed, what those who criticize progress don’t see, what you saw straightaway, is that the Great Thinking Machine is a gift sent by the Moon himself.”

Closed door. The gagargi’s voice comes from the room at the corridor’s end, from behind a closed blue-paneled door. My fingers tingle with excitement and… I glance over my shoulder, wishing that a guard had indeed trailed after me. There’s no one around but Rafa and Mufu. Yet my curiosity is stronger than my current uneasiness. I tiptoe to the door, my companions right behind me, nails scratching the tiles until they halt with me. After a moment of hesitation, I peek through the brass keyhole. Surely if the gagargi can’t see me, he won’t know I’m listening.

“We teeter on the edge of two ages.” There’s no mistaking Gagargi Prataslav, with his thick, oiled braid resting against his back. However, I’m more curious as to whom he’s talking to than what he’s preaching about. Unfortunately, the gagargi’s figure blocks the view, and I only catch a glimpse of a white gown. That’s not helpful at all, for most ladies honor Papa tonight by wearing the shades of the Moon. “The time has come to decide whether we want to be a part of the new age or fade away with the old one.”

I tilt and turn my head to better see, my eye so close to the brass that its cold surface stings my cheek. To no avail. Rafa nudges me, sensing my frustration.

“The Great Thinking Machine has crunched through the numbers. The Crescent Empire has reached the optimal borders. There is no need to expand upon what is enough to provide for all those who have worked so hard for the good of the empire. Let there be no more pointless campaigns, young men yanked from their bright futures, good women and children starving to provide for useless military excursions.”

Strange. These are strange things that he speaks of. But what do I know of what goes on behind closed doors? Politics are for Mama and Celestia. All that is expected of Elise, Sibilia, me, and Alina is to… well, we are the Daughters of the Moon. We can do mostly whatever we want, barring endangering the succession, whatever that might mean in practice.

“It is not lightly that I have bestowed these words on you.” Gagargi Prataslav strolls toward the lady in white. His movements are smooth, but grim, akin to those of an alley cat approaching a mouse. And he ends up standing too close to her, looming over her. “You will consider my words.”

A statement. Not a question. I strain my ears to hear the lady’s reply. With each pounding heartbeat, I want to know more dearly who she is. But before she can reply, the gagargi flinches. He angles his head as if he were the one listening now. Then he spins around, to face the door.

I stumble back, and my companions retreat with me. The gagargi, the holy messenger of Papa himself, possesses knowledge from the world beyond this one, from the realm of shadows. He has many powers, maybe some that I don’t know about. He might have sensed me spying on him!

“There you are.” A hand that reeks of smoke grasps my shoulder from behind. I stifle a shriek. But Rafa and Mufu yelp in joy. Their tails wag wild. “My darling little Merile.”

Relief washes over me as I recognize my seed, the Poet Granizol. He’s a big man with what Elise calls a perpetual tan and eyes as black as onyx. She would also call his scarlet, gold-embroidered coat garish. She wouldn’t deign to comment on his green, reptile-leather boots.

“Here.” I clutch his arm. Rafa and Mufu trot away from the door. They sense my need to flee the scene. And flee I must before the gagargi comes to investigate these sounds. “I was only here looking for you.”

Poet Granizol sways as I lead him down the corridor, toward a corner and away from the line of sight the gagargi would have from the door. Mufu sneezes. I hold my breath.

“And now you’ve found me, my shine of a star,” the Poet announces, impervious to my wish to move faster. Loud. He’s so loud! “You shouldn’t have looked for me from so afar!”

I can hear sounds from the door behind us, a key moving in the lock, the handle turning. I hasten my steps, trying to reach the corner before the door opens. Though a horrible thought occurs to me: if I can hear these sounds, then the gagargi might have heard me talking to the Poet too!

“I…” I try to come up with a lie. But my throat is parched. “I’m thirsty.”

“But of course.” The Poet’s gait steadies as though his life had a purpose now. “A flower needs water to grow, rain and sunshine to bloom. Come, my little Merile, I know just the room.”

When we finally turn around the corner, I risk a glance behind us. The door is just about to open. We made it.

Of course we made it. I’m a Daughter of the Moon. Papa looks after me from the sky.

“I see the seed I sowed in the fertile soil of the empire has taken root well and grown into true beauty. There, I couldn’t have said it better.” The Poet leans back on the plush blue sofa of the smoking room. The corners of his onyx eyes wrinkle, and his wide smile reveals his impeccably white teeth. Handsome. I’ve heard ladies whisper that he’s handsome to look at. I’ve heard with my own ears that he’s a fine speaker. But I’ve also been told by my sisters on numerous occasions that the only sharp object he can wield without being a danger to both himself and others is a pen, and since even his skills with a pen are highly debatable, he would be so useless at the battlefronts that Mama never sends him there.

The Poet pats a silver-tasseled cushion, and if anything has ever bothered him, there’s no sign of that tonight. “Do sit down here where the velvet whispers.”

I grin, and Rafa and Mufu grin too, pink tongues peeking out. They rub against my calves, and I no longer worry about the gagargi. Even I had a hard time tracking the turns my seed took as he led us into this room. I take a seat next to him. My companions curl against my feet.

“Is it the shine of the Moon himself that I see in her innocent eyes?” The Poet waves his hand in a wide arc, golden rings gleaming around every single finger. He stares theatrically at the ceiling, though I doubt he admires the paintings there, as the sickly sweet smoke veils the whole room. Just as we can’t see the other people in the room, the smoke also hides us, and my seed and I are just two shapes occupying one of the many sofas. “I know it without a doubt, she will grow very wise.”