Mama nods at the words. The veins on her neck stick out, as if drawn with a blue pencil. “Celestia will see the daughters to the train and into safety.”
It’s a practiced conversation, I realize. Mama and Celestia know more about the unrests than they’ve shared with me and my sisters. The gagargi, on the other hand… he plays some part in all this. I just don’t know what part that might be. I don’t even know if he’s on our side. What a frightening thought…
“Is that so?” The gagargi’s question only confirms my doubts. His words stick to my ears like honey. I distrust everything sweet for a reason. It’s not the gagargi’s right to challenge Mama’s decisions. He’s only an advisor.
“For their own safety.” Mama gazes up at the dome and the sky beyond. Can she see what the future holds in store for us? Or is she holding our father accountable for our fates? Mama nods to herself, then faces the gagargi with a faraway gaze that bears the light of the stars. “Celestia, and my younger daughters, are the future of the empire. If any harm were to fall on them, this would endanger what little hope of stability we have for the years to come.”
Mama is bargaining. Things aren’t going as she planned. But they aren’t going as the gagargi planned either. He’s in control of the soldiers, but he didn’t want them to witness this conversation. This conversation is dangerous to him as well.
Gagargi Prataslav runs his fingers along his shaggy beard as if he really did have the right to consider a command. His bony knuckles crack. The sound echoes in the observatory for a too-long time.
“I will remain here and face the anger of my people,” Mama says, folding her arms across her chest. Her back is very straight. Her voice is very even. “People need to know there is a future for them, even if they rebel.”
“Besides,” Celestia remarks, standing on the edge of the shadows, so close to the gagargi that I wouldn’t dare to do so. The Moon’s light forms a bright ring around her. She’s terribly white and terribly pale, and her cheek is very red. “There is nothing to be done tonight. My father knows.”
I can only barely hold still. Something bad, worse than unrests, has happened. Something between the gagargi and my sister. I’m not sure I want to find out what that might be. I fear that eventually I will.
“I gathered as much.” Gagargi Prataslav grunts, a sound of acknowledgment rather than disappointment. He gazes first at Celestia, who stands right before him, then past her at Mama. “Then so be it.”
With that, the spell lifts. Beside me Merile gasps, drawing in a long breath that spooks both Rafa and Mufu. Sibilia blinks as though she’d just woken up from a nightmare. Elise flutters her long lashes and rubs her forehead. I realize I should do something, too. I yawn.
“Go.” From the gagargi’s thin lips, the word is like a whiplash. His tight smile bears a hint of cruel amusement, and I know, just know, that that smile is targeted at me. It says: Run, run if you want to, but you can never flee from me.
A tremble runs through my body. I can’t, won’t turn away from him. He’s not the kind of man you let stand behind your back.
“Go now then.” The gagargi steps aside, and as he motions at the stairs his voluminous black sleeve spreads like a bat’s wing. “But I will send for you when the time is right.”
Elise, Sibilia, and Merile are still too confused to understand that though the gagargi seemingly addresses us all, the words are meant for Celestia.
“And I will return,” Celestia replies, unswayed by threats, by anything. “Once my sisters are safe.”
“Elise, Sibilia, Merile, Alina,” Mama calls to us. She has made a deal of some sort. What did it cost her and Celestia? The price must be terrible beyond naming. “It is settled. You must go now.”
As my sisters are just stirring from the spell, it takes a moment for them to understand that we are to leave the observatory, the Summer Palace, the whole city. Elise looks excited, Sibilia flushed as she fidgets with her nightgown’s sleeves, while Merile merely picks up Rafa and Mufu in turns, unable to decide which one to carry.
“Mama…” Celestia calls softly over her shoulder as she prepares to leave. It’s a good-bye of sorts. Or that’s what I think, at least.
Mama stares at Celestia, her expression impossible to interpret. She glances at the gagargi, at Celestia. Celestia bites her upper lip.
“Wait,” Mama orders, though we can’t have much time to lose. The gagargi might change his mind and prevent us from leaving. That I fear. And yet, this too is an important moment.
Celestia falls to a deep curtsy as Mama glides to her, faster than is her natural pace. My oldest sister presses her head down, as if she were apologizing. Mama kisses her on the forehead. It’s a seal of forgiveness. There is no doubt about that. “Go now in peace, my daughter.”
Celestia meets Mama’s gaze, their eyes the same blue, behind them the same wisdom. “I will. Thank you, Mama.”
My sisters and I leave then, in a single line, in the order of age, as is our habit. As I hurry past the gagargi, I feel my hem shift one last time. The ape detaches from the fabric and slips into the gagargi’s robes. He doesn’t notice a thing.
I suddenly realize he can’t see the shadows.
Chapter 7: Merile
The stink. The day carriage stinks of sweat and the humid air of a train rushing across the empire. I can’t escape it, not even when I kiss Mufu’s black forehead, still wet from the melting snowflakes. I can’t escape anything here, no matter how I try.
“Merile…” Alina yawns on the sofa opposite to me. At last. It’s afternoon already, but she hasn’t slept a wink. Not after the plain breakfast, not when the train stopped for water and coal, not while the nameless servant took Rafa and Mufu for a quick walk outside, not even after the train rattled back into movement.
“Yes?” I pick the dried hare leg from the lacquered side table and hold it out for Mufu to gnaw. Wrong. So many things are so utterly wrong and unacceptable here, but I must try my best to feign that everything is well for little Alina’s sake. “What is it?”
Alina pauses brushing Rafa as she glances at Celestia and Elise. They sit on the other end of the carriage, on the padded chairs by the oval table, and pretend to do embroidery. But it wouldn’t do to let little Alina know that all is not how it seems, no matter how dearly I want to know myself what really is going on. Eight days. Ever since we boarded this train, eight long days ago, Celestia and Elise have had whispered conversations when they think Alina and I can’t hear them. I’m sure they keep Sibilia in the dark, too.
“We’re fleeing,” Alina whispers, thin fingers clutching the hairbrush’s handle so tight her knuckles threaten to pop right through her pale skin. “Aren’t we?”
“Huh,” I mutter under my breath. Fair. It’s not fair she should ask me that question when I don’t know the answer. I can only make what Elise would call educated guesses.
This all has something to do with Gagargi Prataslav, the horrid man who threatened my dear companions, and his awful Thinking Machine. Something very bad happened to Celestia, and Elise is upset because of that, or for some completely unrelated reason. Neither of them will speak of it. What they speak of is the unrest amongst the peasants and…
“The train is taking us to a safe place.” I repeat the lie told to me. Or a partial lie. Both Celestia and Elise agree that we couldn’t have stayed in the Summer City. The windows in this train, or at least in the two carriages where we are allowed access, are bolted shut, but I’ve glimpsed burning buildings through the cracks between the heavy white curtains. At times, the train has sped through cities, only to halt later in smaller towns. The unrests are real and dangerous, whatever they are about.