Leena Likitalo: The Five Daughters of the Moon

Mufu, still hiding in my hem, trembles. She buries her head against the underside of my knee. But even that doesn’t make me feel better or braver.

“Look here, yes here, little Daughter of the Moon.” Gagargi Prataslav speaks softly, in a melodic tone that could pass for a grisly lullaby. I don’t want to listen to him, but how could I not? I obey.

The gagargi holds in his hand, the one that he’s not petting Rafa with, an empty glass globe the size of Alina’s fist. I know immediately what it’s used for. I saw one but hours earlier. A tremor that has nothing to do with the room’s temperature runs down my back.

“Yes. It is an empty soul bead,” the gagargi says, his voice deceitfully friendly. With his middle finger, he draws a circle on Rafa’s forehead. My throat tightens, and I barely dare to breathe. Mufu nudges me, nose cold through the layers of my dress. “How should I fill this emptiness? What do you think, little Daughter of the Moon?”

I shake my head so vigorously that the pins holding my hair up loosen and the beautiful creation unravels. He wants to, means to, take my friend’s soul to fuel his foul spells. I know that without asking.

“You can’t…” I manage to whisper. But my voice is weak. As insignificant as I am.

He laughs again, as if pleased by my terror, and his gaze deepens. He cradles the empty soul bead in his palm, precariously from side to side. “I cannot what?”

The words get stuck in my throat. He can’t have my companion’s soul. That’s what I want to say. But as his stare bores through me, vicious, I shrivel. I shrink in the sofa. Rafa is limp, as if in deep sleep that precedes death. There’s no escape. The gagargi can take whatever he wants, and I can do nothing to stop him.

The gagargi inhales, grin baring his crooked teeth. I realize he enjoys my distress. He’s a cruel man. How he ever managed to climb into Mama’s favor, I can’t fathom.

“Merile…” Celestia’s voice comes from far away, pure and chiming and spun from silver. Then I see her—and I don’t know how I didn’t notice her sooner—gliding toward me. “What are you doing here, of all the places?”

My oldest sister takes in the scene, the predatorial lunge of the gagargi, my shrunken posture. She’s tall and serene, white as winter in her gown, with the diamonds and pearls forming an ethereal glow around her. She clicks her tongue, but her expression remains otherwise indecipherable.

“Honored Celestia.” Gagargi Prataslav rises up, gloating as though her sudden arrival pleases him immensely. As he lifts his fingers from Rafa’s forehead, my companion stirs. Rafa glances around, confused, as if she doesn’t know where she is or how she ended up on the sofa. I sigh a cooing sound of relief.

“Go,” Celestia says to me. There’s an undertone of urgency in her voice, as if she isn’t quite sure how long even she can hold the gagargi’s interest. “Go now, my dear sister.”

I flee. Rafa and Mufu run at my sides, treading on my hem. Their nails tear the silk. I don’t care. I won’t be wearing this dress ever again.

Spins. My head spins, and I shiver as I make my way toward the grand hall, up a stairway I don’t remember taking earlier, down another. I need to talk with Elise or Sibilia. They need to know what happened, even if they might accuse me of lying. Maybe I should talk with Nurse Nookes, maybe even with Mama. Though they might not believe me. They never believe Alina either.

As I stumble down another set of stairs, into a thickening crowd, I hear snippets of conversations. I can’t pinpoint who says what. Or understand. I can’t understand what they mean either. Like waves. There are too many people around me, parting before me, closing in after.

“The Crescent Empress is akin to a shark: as that great fish must swim to live, so must she expand her empire.”

“A shark, you say? Then what are the gagargis?”

My vision blurs, and I can smell only the smoke the Poet favors. I sway onward, toward the open double doors that lead to the grand hall. Elise. I will find Elise there. Surely this time she’ll believe me!

“The gagargis have always been a part of the empire. I say she should not have rejected the Great Thinking Machine without at least trying it. What does it matter if it consumes souls? We have plenty of war prisoners waiting for good use. Plenty of orphanages and workhouses filled to the brim.”

I flee the words that don’t make sense. Or maybe they do. I don’t know. The whole world is but smoke, and I forget… I’m fleeing the gagargi. I must remember that.

“We have been looking for you everywhere!” Someone grabs my hand when I’m but steps away from the grand hall’s doors.

I shriek. Rafa and Mufu shriek too. It’s the gagargi. He’s caught up with me!

“Merile?” But no, it’s just Elise and the young captain. Dove beads shine amidst her red-gold locks. The gagargi gave them to her as a gift. The gagargi…

“Gagargi,” I stutter. But speaking of him only reminds me of the immense terror. Hurt. He wanted to hurt me. My dear companions. “Oh, Elise… The gagargi…”

Elise bends down and sniffs at me. Her pale gray eyes widen. She shakes her head, brows arching. “Have you been smoking something? Tell me, have you?”

What is she talking about? There are more important things to say. But I know the look on her face, the frown, the pursed lips. She won’t listen to me now. I need to find Sibilia.

I yank myself free and spin around. Rafa and Mufu yelp as I stumble on them, in my hem. My left ankle twists. Something snaps, and pain lashes through my leg.

I fall on the hard parquet. People stop mid-sentence, to stare at me. Shame. I feel shame, but also terror and pain.

“Help,” I whimper. “Elise, help me.”

Tonight, my dear Notes, I’m happy! Happy, happy, happy!

At last, you might be tempted to remark. Admittedly, I’ve been doing lots of complaining during this autumn, but who can really blame me? My sisters and I have been stranded in this cold palace for months now, with no end in sight to our imprisonment, since the unrests (whatever those are about) that have spread across the realm don’t show any sign of calming. Here, the balls and concerts and fetes continue as before. Without me, since I have to wait eight agonizingly long months more for my debut.

No complaining today. Yes, I promised that, and if a Daughter of the Moon can’t be held accountable for her words, then who can? Onward with the splendid news.

Today, I learned that I won’t have to wait till I’m a shriveled old hag to take a lover, but that I may take one as soon as I debut. Praise Papa! Praise Celestia! And perhaps, since Nurse Nookes constantly reminds us that we live in troubled times, I might get away with getting a lover (one particular K, as you might have guessed) even before that. Though that would be scandalous. So very scandalous that I’m itching to do exactly that.

Loving a man before one’s debut… Perhaps that’s too much to ask for. But a few more waltzes, some kisses and caresses, and…

Spilled ink. Now it’s smudged all over the page. Sorry about that, dear Notes. I will show more self-restraint in the future. I certainly will.

How was my day? How did I come upon this great news?

Nurse Nookes was the usual pain in the backside. She insists we stick to the same day routines, riots or no riots. So, scriptures it was for me, hour after hour of reading and repeating the sacred texts and writing my reflections with the fountain pen that refused to run out of ink and release me from the agony. Papa, forgive me, but I find the words you shared with us before you rose to the skies terribly incomprehensible and boring.