Sleeping Beauty's Daughters (6 page)

“Those dots—are they islands?” Symon asked.

“Aye,” Albert replied. “Though it’s anyone’s guess how true the map is. None of us fisherfolk have been out so far. ’Twere my great-uncle Luc who drew it. He were an explorer—as mad as a box of frogs. The sea got to him, I always said.”

I imagined sailing through the expanse of blue on the map. All that sameness, all that wind and sun and water, might make a person mad. Then I looked more closely at the islands. They were not just dots. One was shaped like a sickle moon, another had jagged edges that looked sharp and forbidding. A third had a long piece of land that stuck out into the sea like a pointing finger.

Along the top and left-hand side of the map, where it was all ocean, there were drawings of strange, snakelike figures and elegant writing. I crouched over the parchment to see them more clearly and traced the intricate words with my finger. “Does this say, ‘Here Be Dragons’?” I asked nervously.

“Mapmakers’ language,” Albert explained. “It means those parts be unknown.”

“So there are really no dragons?”

“Nay,” Albert replied with a gap-toothed smile. “I never heard tell of them in all my years on the sea.”

“How can we know which of these islands is Emmeline’s?” I asked.

“We cannot,” Symon said regretfully. “We’ll have to guess. Perhaps we’ll be lucky. But even an inaccurate map is better than no map at all.”

“You don’t need to take us,” I assured him. “In fact, you must not. It’s too dangerous. But if you could help us find a boat of our own—”

Symon snorted. “And you’ll sail yourselves? Begging your pardon, Princess, but you don’t know port from starboard. You’d be lost—or worse—in no time.”

Luna took offense at his words. “We can surely sail a boat,” she insisted. “If you can do it, I’m certain that most anyone can. We don’t need you to help us.”

“Luna!” I scolded.

“It’s the job of a lifetime, to learn to sail on these waters.” Madame Mathilde’s tone was not at all kind.

“And of course I’ll take you, Princess,” Symon said to me, ignoring Luna completely. “We’ve made a bargain, and I’ll stick to it.”

I was greatly relieved, and thanked him sincerely. “But you must not address me as ‘Princess’ or ‘Your Highness,’” I said. “We’re friends, just as when you thought we were common travelers.”

Symon grinned. “All right then, Deckhand,” he said. “But it’s clear that we must go at once.”

“Are we to sail at night then?” Luna asked eagerly. I shivered with fear and anticipation, thinking of how dark the waters would be, how cold the wind.

“Do we have a choice?” Symon replied. “Otherwise, we’d just be waiting for your cousin Manon to find us, like beasts ready for slaughter. I don’t think I’d get much sleep under those circumstances.”

So it was decided. We gathered our things together. Madame Mathilde gave us food and clean clothes, and Albert and Symon pored over the map and chose one island of the three to aim for. They picked the sickle-shaped one, as it was closest and might have a safe harbor at its protected center. Then Symon rolled up the parchment and stowed it with the food. Albert bowed to us, and Madame Mathilde tried to curtsy, but I raised her up and took her hands.

“We’ll be back soon,” I said fiercely, “and then my father will reward you for your kind assistance.”

“Only come back safe and wide awake,” Madame Mathilde replied, enfolding me in her strong arms. In her embrace, breathing in her warm cinnamon scent, I felt more secure than I had since I had pricked my finger. How I wished I could rest there for a while!

“When we’re safely away, will you get word to our parents that we are well?” I asked her. “I can’t bear thinking that Mama suffers over us—or that Master Julien might be punished for our disappearance.”

“As soon as you go,” she vowed. Then she released me with a final pat. “Now, let’s be sure that no one watches you as you leave.”

The house had a back door, and we crept out of it into a narrow alleyway, checking first to be certain no one lurked there. Albert led us through twisting lanes down to the harbor, where the repaired
Cateline
rested at the water’s edge, its mast once more rising high.

We clambered into the boat and took seats, and Albert pushed it off the sand into the water. “Good luck to ye,” he said gruffly. “Sail straight, lad!”

“I will, Albert,” Symon promised. He pulled the ropes to raise the sail and the wind caught it, pushing us westward, toward the sinking sun. Then he gave the lines to me and clambered back into the stern to tend the tiller. As we eased our way out of the harbor, I looked back at Vittray. Shading my eyes with my hand, I gazed at the red-tiled roofs, at the anchored boats and the long pier, wondering when I would see the town again. And then I gasped in shock.

At the very end of the pier stood a woman, dressed all in black, cloaked and hooded. As I watched, the wind snatched her hood and pulled it back. I saw a wrinkled face, a deep scowl, and piercing eyes that seemed to bore into my own. It was Manon.

10

Of a Legend Come to Life

I
felt her gaze on me as the wind whipped her long gray hair back from her face. I had known she was near, but to see her cruel expression was a terrible shock. Her dark eyes stared into mine with a hatred that chilled me far more than my fear of the shadowy water before and below us. Why should she loathe me so? Was it all because of a love thwarted more than a century ago?

I fully expected Manon to raise another storm, to push us back onto the beach with gale winds, but she did not. She simply watched as we sailed away from the lights of town and into the dimming evening. I shivered, and Symon reached forward and patted my hand, his touch warm and comforting. Of course Luna, who saw everything, turned and noticed this, but she managed to refrain from making a rude comment.

“I suppose,” Symon said, “that was Manon?”

Luna called back, “It must have been. I don’t know what she has in mind for us.”

“Well,” Symon said, “she knows we’re going. So I expect she will do something to try to stop us.”

“Perhaps she just believes we will drown ourselves, and she won’t have to lift a finger.” The wind swallowed my words, yet Symon heard them. He gave me a sympathetic smile. I tried to smile back, but I could not. I was bruised from our wild ride onto the sand, and frightened by the great expanse of ocean before us. I was worried about my mother. And I was so terribly tired. The tea could control my desire to slumber for a time, but always it crept back. I longed to curl up on the hard wooden bench of the
Cateline
and close my eyes. At that moment, I wished that I could sleep for a hundred years.

A wave of drowsiness came over me.
No, no!
I thought in desperation.
I didn’t mean it! I want to stay awake!
I grabbed for Luna. When she felt my touch she looked back, and at the sight of my panicked expression, she spun around.

“I cannot stay awake!” I cried.

“But you just had tea,” Luna reminded me.

“It doesn’t matter! I thought . . . oh, it was so stupid! I wished to fall asleep, and suddenly the urge was so much stronger. Oh, help me, please!”

In one quick move, Luna leaned over the side, scooped up a palmful of water, and flung it into my face. “There you are,” she said obligingly.

I gasped and sputtered and blinked the salt from my eyes. For a moment I was angry, but I was wide awake again.

“Thank you,” I said grudgingly, and Luna laughed and replied, “Any time, Sister!”

We sailed on as the sun gave up its light, and no unnatural storm came to push us back to land. On Symon’s command, Luna climbed back to join him in the stern, and he handed her a strange little box that he called a compass. Then he instructed her on how to use it.

“You see,” he said, “this needle always points to the north.” I leaned toward them and watched as he turned the compass box. Indeed, there was a needle inside, mounted on a pin, and as the box turned the needle swiveled as well, always pointing in the same direction. Symon went on, “We’re going to turn due north, so you want to be sure we are aimed this way.” He showed Luna a little mark on the compass box.

“How does it work?” I asked, intrigued. “Is it magic?”

Symon laughed. “The magic of science,” he said. “The compass needle is attracted to the magnetism of the earth, which is strongest in the north.” I puzzled over this as Luna twirled the compass, pleased with the constancy of the needle pointing north.

“Let me know if we veer off course,” Symon told Luna. “We should see the island before morning—that is, if we don’t miss it completely.”

“Oh, we won’t miss it,” Luna assured him. “This map reading isn’t so hard. We’re right on course, I’m pretty certain.” I rolled my eyes. I wouldn’t have put Luna in charge of navigation, but I did have faith in Symon and his skill with tiller and sail.

When the moon rose, three-quarters full, it cast a silver trail on the water that lighted our way like a beacon. To pass the time, Symon taught us the words to the poem he’d recited to us the day before, and the tune that the fisherman of Vittray had set it to:

Like an eagle caged, I pine,

On this dull, unchanging shore:

Oh! give me the flashing brine,

The spray and the tempest’s roar!

A life on the ocean wave,

A home on the rolling deep,

Where the scattered waters rave,

And the winds their revels keep!

We sang as loudly as we could, and all at once, I saw pale shapes leaping through the gentle swells. Drawn by our voices, dolphins arced through the air, one after another. Luna cried out in delight as they came almost close enough to touch. I reached out my hand, and one swam right to me and raised its long nose to my palm. I stroked its warm, smooth skin, and its bright eye winked at me before it dove deep again.

“So beautiful!” I said to Symon.

“Aye, they always look to me as if they’re smiling,” he replied.

The water was clear enough and the moonlight bright enough that I could see them as they plunged, and it seemed to me that another figure swam with them for a time, not dolphin but not quite human, either. It reminded me of the shape we’d seen in the air when we’d first met Symon. I recalled what he’d said about lutins:
They can fly through the air without wings and swim through the water without gills
. The figure wove among the sleek white dolphins in a graceful sea dance. I was about to call the others’ attention to it, but suddenly the swimmers all veered off and were gone, and I decided to keep it to myself.

After that the hours seemed to blend together. The only sign of time passing was the changing position of the stars as they wheeled through the heavens, and the sinking of the moon. We were silent, and I began once more my struggle with Sleep as the boat sped rhythmically over the waves. I pinched my arms, counted stars, and bit my lips so hard it hurt. I splashed cold water on my cheeks, but it didn’t rouse me as when Luna had done it.

Suddenly Luna called out, “Land ho!”

I peered through the ocean darkness and made out a shape that was darker still. “Is it truly land?” I asked.

“Aye, it is!” Symon replied. He used the tiller to aim the
Cateline
toward the low-lying mass. I ducked as the boom swung around.

Symon’s plan was to approach the island between the points of the sickle’s curve, where there might be a natural bay. “We should wait for daylight,” I advised nervously. If there were treacherous rocks, they would be hidden by the night.

“I have no anchor line long enough to hold us here,” Symon replied. “This water is far deeper than the places where I fish, and I didn’t think to bring extra rope. We’ll have to try to land.”

He set Luna to watch off the port side and me off the starboard side, ready to call out if we saw rocks or any other danger. But there was nothing to fear. Tacking against the wind now, we zigzagged between the crescent’s arms and sailed into the protected bay, sliding to a halt on sand so pearl white that it glowed in the starlight.

We clambered out of the
Cateline
and struggled to pull it up onto the beach so it would not wash back out to sea. We could see little beyond the strand; dunes rose up, and behind them a line of trees faded into darkness.

“I’ll build a fire,” Symon said. I heard no sound at all besides the noise we made searching for dried driftwood, no call of owl or night animal. Even the wind had died completely. The silence seemed eerie, but I said nothing, not wanting to share my uneasiness with the others.

We built a small pile of driftwood, and Symon struck a spark with flint. In a moment a fire blazed and crackled with a comforting noise. I made my tea while the others drank the fresh water we carried, and we ate and warmed our chilled hands gratefully.

“I slept a bit on the boat,” Luna told Symon. “You rest now; I’ll stay awake with Aurora.”

Symon curled up beside the fire and was asleep in minutes. How I envied him! I sat beside Luna as close to the flames as I dared. I didn’t want to think about what could be lurking beyond the small light cast by the fire.

Try as she might to stay alert, Luna too dozed off before long. I didn’t wake her, for I didn’t feel the usual pull of Sleep. Something about this lonely place made me anxious and drove away the tiredness. I was learning to trust my feelings. I would not relax my vigil.

As the fire died and the horizon began, ever so slightly, to lighten, I heard a scratching sound. I swiveled from left to right, peering into the dark to see what approached. The noise came closer, and my heart began to beat faster. Then, at the top of one of the dunes, a dark shape appeared, and then another, and another. As the sun slowly rose, I could finally make out their forms, and I recoiled in horror. Four-legged and taller than dogs, their eyes glowed orange, and they stared straight at me.

“Wake up!” I screamed, shocking the others out of their sleep. “There are wolves on the dunes!”

Symon was up in an instant, Luna close behind him. Symon pulled a short knife from his boot and swung it wildly about in a circle, but the animals kept their distance. As the light strengthened, I could see them more clearly, and I began to tremble in earnest.

They were not wolves after all, as frightening as that would have been. I had never seen, nor even imagined, creatures such as these. They were as big as donkeys or small horses, though most of their size was muscled body atop short, stubby legs. Their fur, like their eyes, was reddish-orange. Their heads resembled boars’ heads, with tiny piglike ears and long curved tusks, but their mouths gaped open and were crowded with sharp, crooked teeth. Their tails, long and thick and tipped with white, swung slowly from side to side.

“Oh, what are they?” Luna whispered shakily.

“We must flee, or we’ll be torn limb from limb,” Symon said in a low voice. “They are the Beasts of Gevadan.”