The Forgotten Sisters (3 page)

“If only I'd tried to be a little less remarkable,” she said, trying to smile.

“Duty doesn't always fit comfortably.” He mimed screwing an invisible crown onto his head, squinting as if it pinched.

“Britta did not choose you by chance. And I approve.”

The chief delegate snatched the coin bag from Miri. “Prince Steffan, his highness your father sends a generous monthly allowance to his cousins in Lesser Alva. You are very kind, but Lady Miri will not need money.”

The moon lingered over the courtyard, almost full and yet so high up it appeared small, no bigger than the print of her pinky finger on glass. Miri stood under the moon, making farewells. Katar gave Miri a fierce hug and ran off. Britta kissed Miri's cheeks and made promises of letters. The king and queen did not come out at all. Steffan apologized on behalf of his mother, saying that she was unwell.

Miri felt courageous as she stepped into the carriage, a warrior off to some unknown battle.

Courage is not fearlessness
, Master Filippus, her tutor at the Queen's Castle, had taught.
Courage is feeling justly afraid and yet still doing what is right
.

Was she doing what was right?

She leaned out the carriage window to wave good-bye. Steffan bowed to her, Britta called out luck, and the pinky print of the moon hovered, indifferent in the blackness above.

A honey bee, a funny flea, a pitter patter sunny sea

A breezy snow, a wheezy crow, a bitter batter easy dough

A teary hymn, a weary limb, a titter tatter cheery swim

A cozy yawn, a nosy fawn, a chitter chatter rosy dawn

Miri spent four days aboard the ship. Brief sails around Asland's harbor had not prepared her for the open sea. Now she learned that waves could crest white, a ship could fly and fall, and novice passengers were rightly called “green.”

The captain was stout and lively, and advised her to stay up in the open and ride the sickness out. The sky and wind felt as firm as solid ground above her head, and by the second day she could look away from the horizon without fearing she'd have to revisit her breakfast. Without sickness to distract her thoughts, worry and dread swooped in. She sat alone, singing nonsense songs against the wind. “Salty sea and bunnies three, nothing like a honey tea, so fitter fatter, it don't matter, mind the chatter, scatter me.”

Two royal guards accompanied her—one a thin, trim young man who smiled a great deal, the other balding and dark-eyed. They spoke to each other but rarely to her.

The first time the ship stopped at a port to unload cargo from Asland and load new goods, Miri lent a hand, making the sailors laugh. Apparently noble passengers did not usually engage in merchant work, but Miri was weary of working over her own thoughts.

Soon she was learning to tie knots and climb ropes and trading stories and songs. Miri's stories were often historical accounts of famous Danlandians. The sailors' tales involved ports and women and made Miri blush, but she supposed they increased her education in one neglected area.

The last stop on their route was Greater Alva, and by then Miri and the captain spent hours each day talking and laughing.

“There's no port in Lesser Alva,” the captain explained. “Too boggy. So I'll only be able to take you as far as Greater Alva. We rarely come all this way to trade, but when the king asks …” He saluted nobly.

“I knew a merchant shipman's son once,” said Miri. “Timon Skarpson.”

She had not thought his name in so many months that speaking it felt strange in her mouth.

“This is his ship,” said the captain.

“This is Timon's?” Miri looked around, suddenly afraid he might appear.

“Actually, he was going to be on this voyage,” said the captain, “but when we received the order to transport you, he decided to stay ashore. He said you two had a troubled history and you might be uncomfortable trapped aboard together.”

“That was gentlemanly of him,” she said. “And he was right. But would you carry a message? Just let him know that all is forgiven and I hope he's well.”

The captain squinted. “I don't detect a broken heart about you, and certainly you have a love you left behind, given how often you hold that stone hawk of yours. My guess is Timon behaved badly and so missed out on being the one to give you a gift you would treasure as much as that hawk. A shame for his sake.”

Miri felt like blushing but laughed instead.

In Greater Alva's harbor only a few fishing boats bobbed. Miri went ashore, immediately suspicious of the ground that neither rose nor fell. Her legs had gotten used to the motion of the sea and now refused to appreciate firm earth.

The port city was considerably smaller than Asland and smelled of fish. She ate lunch with the royal guards
at the dockside tavern, her stomach too nervous to enjoy the salty fish stew. They hired an open carriage to take them out of town and a few hours through fields of wheat and barley. At the mouth of a scrubby forest, the wheel ruts of the road stopped.

“We walk the rest of the way,” said one of her guards, shouldering her pack.

The farther they walked, the narrower the road became, until the thin, branchy trees tapped Miri's shoulders and touched overhead. The ground was spongy. The air was close. Miri wiped her forehead with her sleeve.

Astrid, Felissa, and Susanna
. Miri thought the names of the royal cousins over and over again, from oldest to youngest. They seemed to be just words, not names. She could not imagine faces to match, let alone a palace in a swamp, or even a swamp at all. Nothing seemed quite real. It was as if she were walking through the landscape of a dream.

Miri was no tutor, no matter that the king had signed a paper saying so. Her instructor at the princess academy, Tutor Olana, had been a grown woman, smart and well-read, and as scary as a viper in a basket.

Miri was short, young, and undereducated. She must appear as imposing as Tutor Olana had been, or the royal cousins would never respect her. Miri would walk into Lesser Alva with head high, shoulders back, eyes
glinting with secret knowledge, voice firm and commanding.

Astrid. Felissa. Susanna
.

The trees finally petered out. Miri took a deep breath—and coughed. The air was even thicker here than in the woods, wet and muggy and full of rotting things. Sweat pricked her skin.

From the edge of the woods, the ground sloped down. Sunlight glinted off mud and water. A wide, slow river ended in a marshy lake, twinkling between rising arms of land. Miri knew from maps that the water eventually joined an inlet of the sea. Straight ahead, a village sat on an island in the middle of the sludgy water. All the houses were built of dried reeds.

The water was busy with two-person boats—long and narrow, made of tightly bound bundles of reeds. The person in the bow of each boat held a barb-tipped spear, punting with the flat end in the water. The person behind held a long-poled net. They were fishing. Or hunting, Miri supposed.

Far off to the right on a solitary patch of high, dry ground, looking like a porcelain cup in a pig sty, stood a small cube of a house built entirely of linder.

“Lesser Alva,” said the older of the guards. “Well, good luck.”

He put down Miri's pack and turned to go.

“Wait!” she said. “You're not staying?”

“Our orders were to deliver you safely to Lesser Alva,” he said as he walked away. “The royal cousins live in the white stone house. The servants of their house will take care of you. We need to reach Greater Alva before dark if we're to make the ship back.”

“But …” Miri followed after them, clutching her hands. “But don't you want to stay the night? At least?”

“I don't like snakes,” the younger guard said apologetically. He flashed a helpful smile before disappearing into the trees.

Miri stood listening to the sounds of the guards walking away, leaves flapping, branches snapping. The sounds stopped. And then started again. Were they returning after all? Hope flared like a burn against her heart. But instead of returning guards, a small brown animal emerged, scurrying right across her foot. She stifled a scream and turned around.

People had gathered from the village to watch her. Surprised, she slipped and fell on her backside. Mud seeped through her skirt and leggings. The crowd was mostly children, and they kept staring.

“You don't look like a trader,” said one child.

“No, I'm just … going over there,” Miri said, pointing
to the linder house. She grabbed her pack and stumbled away.

Chickens ran loose, clucking with annoyance and attacking insects that had the gall to hide beneath dead leaves. A flock of thin, long-necked birds flew off the water, settling on a shore. Against the deep brown and green background, their bright whiteness looked as startling in that setting as the linder house.

The sunlight on the water flashed and glared. Miri squinted, her head pounding. The straps of her pack cut into her shoulders. The ground was slippery, her boot soles thick with mud. She could not spare a hand to wipe the sweat dripping onto her cheeks.

You are a tutor
, she told herself.
You have to be imposing!

The wooden door in its frame looked swollen and misshapen, though perhaps years ago it had fit properly in the cut stone. It swung inward at her first knock, squeaking on its hinges.

“Hello?” Miri called out. She stepped inside.

The building was only one room, and it was nearly empty. The polished stone floor tilted to one side, some stones jutting higher than others, as if over the years the ground had settled.

“Who's there?”

A girl was climbing in through one of the open
windows, followed by two others. They wore loose brown shirts and leggings, stained even browner up to the knees, and held sticks and poles.

“Who are you? What are you doing in our house?” asked the tallest one.

In their house? These wild girls were the royal cousins? Miri guessed the tall one was Astrid, the eldest girl.

“Call the village,” the middle one whispered—probably Felissa.

“She doesn't look like a bandit,” said the shortest. Susanna.

Miri worked her tongue in her mouth, but it was so dry. They would notice how young she was, and her short stature made her seem even younger. They would see she was a fraud and not a real tutor at all. She had to be strong, speak firmly, demand respect. Be imposing.

“I am your tutor. You may call me Tutor Miri.”

“Who?” asked Astrid.

“You should raise your hand if you … when you want to talk … or ask something. Though I may not answer. Immediately.”

The girls looked at one another, baffled. Miri's head felt funny, her legs kind of tingly, but if she sat, she would seem weak.

Astrid raised her hand and said, “You're in our house.”

Miri looked around. “There aren't any books. I don't see a single book.”

“I don't see a single snake in here either,” said Astrid. “I don't see a single lot of things.
Who
are you?”

“I only brought three books because I thought …” Her head felt as tilty as the floor. “There's no furniture either. Why do you live here? You're the king's cousins. You're royalty.”

“So we've heard,” Astrid said and stepped in front of her younger sisters, still gripping her long, sharpened stick.

“I'm feeling a little … muddled. There was a long walk and so hot and the ground's still leaning as if it wants to be water—” Miri giggled. “I sound crazy, don't I? I don't mean to. I'm just … thirsty …”

Miri watched the floor swell like a white ocean, leisurely, pleasantly. Her limbs felt wonderfully light, and she sighed right before the floor rose up to meet her.

It was dark out when Miri woke, coughing. Her face was wet, and water was dripping down her neck.

Felissa was crouching nearby, a cup in her hands, apparently having tried to give Miri a drink. Felissa offered the cup. Miri took it and gulped down the water, grateful despite its weedy flavor.

“You walked from Greater Alva without drinking enough water, didn't you?” Felissa asked, smiling.

Miri nodded.

“Why did you do a dumb thing like that?” asked Astrid.

“Well, I've never walked from Greater Alva to Lesser Alva before,” said Miri. She felt she had to speak loudly in order to push her words past her headache. “You should post signs: ‘Danger: this place is hotter than you expect.'”

“City folk,” Astrid whispered to Felissa. Felissa smiled.

Miri was not sure of their ages. Susanna looked about ten but Astrid was likely a few years older than Miri. The chief delegate had not mentioned Miri would have to teach a girl older than she was.

Imposing
?

She sat up and patted her head, feeling how her hair was springing loose from her braid. She straightened her shoulders.

“I'm Miri Larendaughter of Mount Eskel. His Majesty King Bjorn sent me here to be your tutor.”

Susanna did not blink. Her face was as quiet and serious as Felissa's was constantly amused. “You said that word before.
Tutor
. What is a tutor?”

Felissa giggled. “Sounds like something you do after eating too much pig grass.”

“A tutor is a
teacher
,” Miri said quickly. “I can teach you Reading and Arithmetic and History, all kinds of subjects, even Poise.”

“Why would we ever need to do those things?” Astrid asked. She was still standing by the window, the sharpened stick in her hand.

“Because … because …” Miri's head felt pressed between stones. Suddenly in that dark, strange little house, nothing that had happened in Asland made any sense at all. “Can we talk about this in the morning?”

“After breaking into our house, you're expecting us to let you stay?” said Astrid.