The Forgotten Sisters

  “Because I was born an unwanted cousin to the king of Danland?” Astrid raised one eyebrow. “Or because I’m Princess Helka Appaluna?”

  Miri had an impulse to hug her. Astrid seemed startled at first, but then she put her arms around her, and Miri felt Astrid’s back tense as if she were holding back a sob.

  “It’s a lot,” Miri whispered, rubbing her back. “Leaving home and pretending and going into who knows what. Even though I’m just an unimposing tutor, I want you to know that I think you’re doing really well.”

  “Is that what you were trying to be, that first day you came into our house?” Astrid asked with a smile, pulling back. “Imposing?”

  Miri nodded solemnly. “Ah yes, I was a grave, impressive, fear-inspiring tutor … till I fainted on your floor.”

  Miri helped Astrid back up the ladder and joined Felissa and Sus at a railing. The girls were shielding their eyes with their hands and staring ahead. For three days the only sights had been the churning ocean and the huge Storan warship. But now, land.

  “Asland,” Miri whispered.

  “Are those … cliffs?” Felissa asked.

  “They’re buildings along the harbor,” said Miri. “Asland has thousands of buildings.”

  “Thousands … ,” Astrid whispered.

  “Where’s the Queen’s Castle?” asked Sus. Ever since learning about the university, Sus was fascinated with the idea of a huge building where people went just to read and learn.

  “On a river island up from the bay,” said Miri. “It was the original royal palace in Asland—”

  “Till King Jorgan built a linder palace in the center of the city. I remember,” said Sus.

  They had decided: once in Asland, the girls and Peder would try to escape from the Storans and take refuge in the Queen’s Castle. Miri had friends there among the tutors and scholars, and the building itself was a fortress.

  “How soon until I can put my feet on solid ground?” Astrid asked the Storan soldiers in her not-that-I-care princess voice.

  “Within the hour, Your Highness,” said the lead soldier. “His Majesty the king will be pleased to hear of your arrival. I understand he has been wishing for family near.”

  King Fader was in Asland? Peder had just come up on deck, and Miri turned her back to the captain to look at Peder with wide eyes. King Fader would know in an instant that Princess Helka Appaluna was a fraud.

  “Oh. Of course,” said Astrid. “And when will I see him?”

  “We will take you to him as soon as we dock,” said the soldier. “The king has taken up residence in a fortification the Danlandians call the Queen’s Castle.”

  “Very well, that is all,” Astrid said, so the soldier would walk away.

  Miri felt sick, as if her stomach were not yet used to the swell of the ocean.

  She whispered, “Peder, can you swim?”

  Fear entered his eyes as he seemed to realize what she had in mind.

  “I learned in Lesser Alva,” said Miri. “But—”

  “I can do it,” he said quickly.

  She put her fists on her hips and looked at him hard. The only water in the village of Mount Eskel had been a snowmelt stream. They drank from it, sometimes bathed in it, and occasionally pushed each other into it. But it was not deep and much too cold to spend time swimming.

  “I will not let you drown, Peder Doterson, just because you pretended you could swim.”

  “I meant, I could try,” he said.

  “They won’t expect us to jump into the water,” Sus said. “It is our best chance.”

  They whispered the plan to one another, over and over. Miri gripped her skirt with her hands, fearing the soldiers would see them shaking. Peder kept clearing his throat.

  “Did you say something?” asked a soldier passing by.

  “Hm? Oh, nothing,” said Peder. In his nervousness, his voice sounded much higher.

  Miri did not want to tell Captain Bodel. “I don’t completely trust him. What if he decides to betray us?”

  “I owe him,” Peder whispered.

  He went to the captain and spoke low in his ear. Captain Bodel showed no expression, only nodding.

  They waited until the ship’s sails lowered and rowers brought it closer to the docks of Asland harbor. The tide was low, and beneath the docks, the pilings holding them up rose like a bare winter forest.

  Miri handed Peder a small, empty barrel. It was watertight, its lid nailed on. He gripped it with both arms.

  “Strike swiftly,” Astrid said.

  “Aim true,” Felissa and Sus replied.

  Astrid nodded. The five of them kicked off their shoes, clambered onto the railing, and leaped over the side.

  Even though it was a small ship, the gray ocean seemed miles below. As she fell, Miri’s body tensed for what would come next—cold water, jarring impact, or perhaps the unexpected sting of a musket ball. In midair she and Peder met eyes. His looked as gray as the sea.

  Chapter Twenty

  The cargo in the hold

  Is as heavy as the sea

  The cargo in the hold

  Could pull this ship right down

  Your love in my heart

  Is as heavy as the world

  Your love in my heart

  Will pull this man right down

  “They jumped!” Miri heard one of the Storans shout as the water rushed at her.

  The splash felt like a punch. Swimming in warm swampy inlets had not prepared her for the brutal, briny cold. She could not force her eyes open, twisting and flailing in the underwater darkness.

  Peder! she thought, and vigor sparked in her chest, burning through her limbs. She fought the water, unsure if she was moving up or down. Her lungs wanted air, and she panicked, clawing and kicking, needing to scream so badly her whole body hurt—

  Hands grabbed her. The surface of the water broke. Miri gasped.

  Felissa had pulled her up. Sus was diligently heading toward the dock. Nearby Astrid gave Peder a push. One arm over the barrel, he paddled with the other, kicking awkwardly against the water.

  “Swim!” Astrid said.

  Miri swam. The sisters were quick, soon clinging to the log pilings in the shadow of the dock. Miri stayed beside Peder.

  “There they are!” Captain Bodel announced from the bow, pointing at the water.

  The dozen Storan soldiers were leaning against the railing when Captain Bodel and a few of his sailors grabbed their ankles and tossed them overboard. The vessel rocked to the side, turned, and with full sails headed out of the harbor.

  The harbor was full of Storan warships, but their sails were down. Perhaps by the time the warships were in pursuit, Captain Bodel’s ship would be away, but Miri did not have the energy to watch for their escape.

  Rowboats lowered from the great Storan ship. One went to rescue the floundering soldiers, but another, packed with armed soldiers, began to chase Miri, Peder, and the sisters. With a few swift strokes it would be upon them.

  If she did not swim faster, Miri would be caught. Peder breathed in panicked gasps beside her.

  “Please,” she said, the waves lapping against her face. “Please, Peder, swim.”

  She heard splashes as the boat rowed nearer. It was almost upon them.

  There were hollers from the boat. Miri was so intent on swimming forward and keeping hold of Peder that she did not dare look back.

  When Miri and Peder reached the nearest piling, only Sus was there. Felissa and Astrid came up behind them, each swimming with an oar.

  “I told Felissa and Astrid to dive under the boat and pull the oars out of their hands,” said Sus. “They’re stronger swimmers than I am.”

  Sus smiled as if she was having a wonderful time.

  They clung to the pilings while Peder and Miri tried to catch their breath. Her lungs burned, each inhale stabbing her throat. The rowboat drifted not far off, the soldiers aboard hollering at them, yelling for aid from the ship. Another dingy full of sailors began t
o lower from the warship.

  Musket shots. The girls and Peder ducked behind the pilings and began to climb.

  Barnacles that were stuck to the crisscrossing logs cut Miri’s hands and bare feet. She was the slowest climber, just behind Sus. The world below the dock was as dark as a dense forest, and the wood smelled half-rotted and unfriendly. Water splashed far below.

  Astrid was the first to clamber onto the dock. When Miri reached the edge, Peder helped her out and up onto the wooden planks. They did not stop to rest this time but took off at a run. They heard shouting behind them and the clatter of booted feet. One mounted Storan on a fast horse could easily catch them. Miri prayed the Storans had no mounts handy.

  Peder knew the streets of Asland better than Miri, and he led the way past the colorful rows of town houses and into the dark, narrow alleys. Footsteps seemed to pursue them, though Miri was unsure if she was hearing followers or just the echoes of their own feet. She saw no carriages or carts, the usually busy Aslandian streets unnaturally quiet. In the distance, three musket pops echoed.

  Peder led them down a tight space between two buildings into a small courtyard. A stout man with a shiny head and thick arms was working on a block of stone with chisel and hammer. Miri recognized Gus, the master stone carver who had apprenticed Peder the past year.

  He stared at them—four girls and Peder, all wet, shivering, small cuts bleeding on their hands and feet.

  “I don’t want to get you in trouble, Gus,” said Peder. “We’ll only stay till it gets dark. Please.”

  Gus hesitated, glancing at the entrance as if expecting Storan soldiers. But he gestured them into a shed, and they lay flat while he buried them under a huge pile of straw.

  Miri’s throat was dry, her whole body craving water, and she spent the first hour just trying not to cough. Her heartbeats clattered in her chest, and her ears strained for every city noise. Her own breathing sounded so loud she was afraid their pursuers could hear it from the street.

  Hours later, it seemed, she managed to doze, drifting in and out of consciousness, then woke fully alert to the sound of a whisper. It was Peder.

  “Let’s go,” he said.

  They all rose, shaking off straw. The sky was solidly black, the city quiet. Her clothes were dry now but her skin itched with goose bumps in the chilly spring night. Peder whispered a farewell to Gus.

  “Where now?” Miri asked. “We’d have to pass through the Storan army’s camp to get to the palace.”

  They stood in the narrow alley between buildings, listening for any Storan patrols before emerging.

  “They’re blockading the palace against the Danlandian army,” said Peder, “but a small group might have a chance to slip by. There are holes a rat can crawl through.”

  “And we’re just a bunch of swamp rats,” said Sus. “I bet their attention will be on people coming out of the palace. People trying to get in would have a better chance.”

  “Especially using the route we’ll take,” said Peder. “A hidden entrance that, um, well, Timon told me about.”

  “What?” Miri breathed. “How did he—”

  “Last year he and his revolutionary-hungry cohorts had made friends with palace workers and learned about the passage. It is too slow and dangerous to move more than a few people through, so they couldn’t use it for a full-scale invasion, but as a secret entrance for a few like us …”

  They traveled in two groups: Peder, Felissa, and Astrid first, then Miri and Sus a block behind. Storan soldiers might be hunting for five people, and they did not want to make it any easier to be found.

  Dogs barked, the skinny moon peeked over a rooftop, and a chilly breeze slid down Miri’s neck. Gus had warned them that the Storans had declared a curfew. Anyone seen out after dark would be shot on sight. Every sound—every dog bark and click of wind and rustle of trees—seemed to be the footfall of a soldier just about to round the corner.

  “I like this,” Sus whispered.

  “No you don’t, Sus. We’re in trouble—”

  “Not the running,” said Sus. “The place. All these buildings. And people are inside, and they all have histories. It’s like the buildings are books and if I opened them, I’d learn new things.”

  The two groups skirted wide both The Green and Commoner Park, where the Storan army camped, and met up again far from the palace. It was now long past midnight.

  The sky was cloudy, and a burst of light rain fell like mist. They scrambled down a weedy ravine and plopped feetfirst into a thin stream of stinking water.

  Astrid wrinkled her nose. “I don’t want to know what I’m walking in.”

  “No,” Peder agreed, “you don’t.”

  They crept on till they found the source of the dirty stream: a metal grate built into the outer palace wall. Palace wastewater was dumped down chutes that traveled beneath the palace, emerging into that gutter. Royal guards should be atop the palace wall watching such grates, but Miri saw none. With the massive Storan army surrounding the palace, the royal guards must have positioned themselves out of musket range.

  Peder worked the grate open with tools he’d borrowed from Gus. The rusted metal squeaked like an injured animal, and Miri shuddered, expecting every moment for soldiers to hear and come running.

  On hands and knees they crawled in.

  The tunnel was completely dark and so low the top scraped Miri’s back. The water sloshed around her wrists and knees. Suddenly, it rose to her hips and shoulders, and she tilted her head up, breathing in panicked gasps, her chin wet. If the water gushed higher, there would not be time to crawl back to the entrance. They would be trapped. They would drown. They would—

  Miri’s heart beat with painful thuds. She took deep breaths, pretending the smell was just the swamp, fierce and alive under a hot sun.

  And she thought of home. And wrote letters to her sister in her head.

  Dear Marda,

  You would not believe the horrible things I had to do today! Thankfully it was over quickly, and Peder and I are just fine and on our way home …

  As the water receded to a shallow flow, Miri felt something alive scurry past her in the dark. A rat? Her whole body quivered.

  Marda, I saw a rat today and was not afraid at all. You would be so proud of me! In fact, we sat down and shared a cup of tea. I told him he looked smashing in a new hat from Elsby, and he promised to pick up one for me the next time he was there visiting his auntie.

  The steady noise of Peder’s splashing crawl ahead of her stopped. The air felt different, cooler, had more movement. She kept crawling, and the space above her head opened higher. Peder was able to stand. He lifted a metal grate and climbed out, reaching down to help Miri. She clambered out into a large room. The moment she was free of that awful tunnel, her legs shook violently as if they could no longer ignore the panic. She crumpled onto a tile floor.

  Around her she saw Sus, Astrid, and Felissa lie down too. Peder sat against a wall, his knees up, resting his head on his arms. No one spoke.

  Deep breaths. No tunnel. No water. Light. Alive.

  Sus was the first to stand and look around.

  “I found drinking water,” she whispered.

  They all walked or crawled to the barrel, using a nearby cup to drink deeply. Miri felt a little more real.

  “Kind of felt safer in Lesser Alva,” said Astrid.

  In her year living in the palace, Miri had never been in this room before. It was a small kitchen, perhaps serving a minor wing of the palace. A quick search revealed no food. Since the palace was under siege, all the palace residents must have taken supplies to a central location.

  They washed up as best they could and began to creep through the palace.

  It felt as large as a city. Surely there were enough food stores to keep the palace residents alive until the Danlandian army could return to Asland. If King Bjorn and Queen Sabet could just hold out till their army returned—

  No. Miri rejected the thought. If the army retur
ned first, there would be war in the streets of Asland. The destruction could be as devastating as a civil war. Unless they arranged a peaceful ending first.

  As they traveled through the palace, eerily empty, the sun rose outside. Pale blue light reached through the windows, throwing long shadows across the stone floor.

  They crossed into the linder section of the palace, and that familiar tingle trickled over Miri’s skin, surrounded by the stone of her home. Instead of it being comforting, she felt sick with longing. She began to write a new letter in her mind:

  Dear Marda,

  I wish I’d never left home …

  Chapter Twenty-one

  If the world looks too big, I’ll hold you that much tighter

  If the breeze feels too chill, I’ll make the fire hotter

  If the storm booms too loud, I’ll sing to you still louder

  I’ll always keep you safe, my tiny, precious daughter

  Miri called out in quarry-speech as she walked. If Katar were in the palace, her friend from Mount Eskel might hear and let Miri know where Britta and the others were.

  “I’ll check the refuge room,” Peder said, speaking of the chamber where they had hidden from revolutionaries with the royal family the previous year. “If you find them first, quarry-speak and I’ll come.”

  “All right,” Miri said, feeling very brave, because all she wanted to do was cling to him and cry. The palace seemed as deserted by the living as that haunted house in the tale. Perhaps the royal family was long gone and the Storan army was laying siege to an abandoned building. In which case, they’d just broken into the most dangerous building in Asland.

  Miri checked Britta’s room. The hearth was cold. She headed toward Queen Sabet’s apartment. Astrid, impatient, hurried ahead to the next open door.

  Miri felt a strange tang of sorrow, as if she were barely catching a heartrending ballad sung in a far-off room. The sorrow was not her own, the way someone quarry-speaking to her felt different in her mind than her own thoughts. Could all her time in the linder house have helped her develop linder-wisdom? If so, whose sorrow was she sensing? She looked back to ask if Sus and Felissa felt it too.