Sleeping Beauty's Daughters (5 page)

“Yes?” she replied, pitching her voice lower than usual.

Symon exchanged a glance with me, smiling. “You take the front-most seat, in the bow. Aurora, you can sit on the second bench. From there you can tend the sail.”

Symon gave me some brief instruction on how to manage the ropes, warning that the boom—the heavy wooden piece at the bottom of the sail—would swing around when the boat turned. I would have to duck to avoid being hit on the head.

“Usually,” Symon said, “I can man the sail and the tiller both. But we’ll be going out farther than I’ve gone before, and we may be sailing for more than a day. I’ll need help.”

“I can tend the sail,” Luna said indignantly. “Why don’t I sit there instead of Aurora?”

I didn’t think she would have either the strength or the patience to work the sail, but I didn’t want to say so. “Your sight is so keen,” I pointed out. “If you’re in the front, you can be the lookout. I am sure you’d see land before either of us.”

Luna frowned, but she had to admit this was true. She had the eyes of a hawk. She once saw a whale far out at sea from our palace on the cliff, and she always noticed when a servant had left a spot undusted or pocketed a silver spoon. She took her place in the bow.

Symon took the small bench nearest the back—the stern—so he could steer the boat with the tiller. There were nets piled in the bottom; Symon shoved them beneath the benches as we pushed the boat into the waves and climbed in. Our shoes and legs were soaked.

“Oh, it stinks!” Luna cried. Though I hushed her, she was quite right. It was fishy in the extreme. The bottom was slippery with scales.

Luna found a fish eyeball among the scales and held it up. “The fish are watching us,” she said with glee. “Fish spies are everywhere!”

I knew she was joking, but the idea of spies gave me pause. I thought of the way I had felt in the forest, how I had kept looking around to see if anyone was watching us. To keep that uncomfortable thought away, I reached forward and batted the eyeball out of Luna’s hand. It flew through the air and landed on my skirt. Despite myself I shrieked and jumped up, rocking our little vessel wildly.

“Sit down!” Symon commanded in a stern voice, pointing to the wooden benches. “The first rule in the
Cateline
is this: Never stand up! It is a hardy boat, and a sturdy one, but if you rock it enough it will tip, and the water is chill even in summer.”

“I love a good swim,” Luna said offhandedly, and I frowned at her, for she could no more swim than fly through the air. But she added, “Yes sir, Captain!” We kept up calling Symon Captain, as he seemed to like it, and Luna quickly claimed the title of First Mate. The only position left for me was Deckhand. This pleased Luna enormously, as it sounded lowly and undignified, but I accepted the title with good grace, sure that I would never actually have to swab the decks on our short journey.

As we sailed, all we saw was water and more water, with an occasional glimpse of gull or tern or pelican bobbing on the waves. The wind was stiff, and we skimmed along with little effort. It was wonderfully pleasant: The sun was bright, the air cool, the spray from the water invigorating. Sleep seemed far away. Every once in a while Symon would call out, “Haul the sheets!” and I would pull on the ropes until the sail was taut in the wind.

I noticed, though, that with each slap of the waves against the sides of the boat, Luna grew paler. Before long she was a dreadful greenish hue, and Symon took note.

“Louis, are you seasick?” he asked. His tone was sympathetic, but Luna bristled.

“Of course I’m not!” she retorted. “I’m a little tired, that’s all. I didn’t sleep well. And there is the smell of fish—” She suddenly clapped a hand over her mouth.

“Downwind!” Symon commanded, pointing to the stern of the boat. Luna scrambled over the bench beside me, around the mast, and stopped at Symon’s bench, rocking the little craft. She deposited her breakfast into the sea. Then she collapsed on the bottom of the boat, groaning.

“Oh no!” I cried, reaching out for her. “What’s wrong? Should we go back and find a doctor?”

“Go back?” Symon scoffed. “For seasickness? He’ll get his sea legs before long. Besides, I thought your fairy relative was a healer of some sort. Isn’t that why you’re trying to find her? I’m sure if anything truly ails Louis, your relative will make it better.”

“I’m fine,” Luna said, getting up and crawling back to her place. Indeed, a little color had returned to her cheeks, so I held my tongue, and we went on.

We sailed until the sun was nearly straight overhead. Once, far off, I noticed something that looked like a little trail of smoke rising from the water. “A whale, spouting,” Symon said. “That’s how they breathe.”

And then, suddenly, I saw a massive, towering shape on the horizon. I was certain that a moment before there had been nothing there.

Luna saw it at the same moment. “Land ho! Is it an island?” she called out.

Symon peered into the distance, and then shook his head slowly. “I think not,” he replied in a worried tone. “I believe it’s a storm cloud—though I’ve never seen one like it.”

Storm clouds often shrouded our castle on the cliffs, but they didn’t look like this. The cloud seemed to mount to the very heavens, and lightning flashed deep within its purplish billows. It moved toward us with astonishing speed. A great howling wind came before it, catching Symon unprepared. It propelled us backward so quickly that we nearly overturned, the boat heeling until waves splashed over the side.

“Strike sail!” Symon cried. I had no idea what the command meant, though, and the wind was too strong for me to respond even if I had known. Ripping free of the mast, the sail flew off like a huge white kite. The boom swung around violently, just missing me as I ducked. Then we were at the wind’s mercy.

“Row!” shouted Symon, straining at the tiller. There were long wooden oars on each side of the boat. I grabbed for the starboard oar near me and tried to work it through the water, while Luna did the same on the other side. The oars were useless, though, against the power of that wind.

Thunder cracked, and lightning played in the dark cloud that now hung directly above us. Rain began to fall, pounding down so hard it actually hurt. We were soaked to the skin in an instant. The waves were enormous, whipped into a frenzy by the wind. The
Cateline
quickly began to fill with water from both above and below.

“Bail!” Symon yelled. I could barely hear him now over the howl of the gale. I dropped my useless oar and found a wooden bucket beneath the seat. Though I worked as fast as I could, I was nearly blinded by the raging storm. I couldn’t begin to keep up with the water that poured into the boat.

The batteau climbed each wave and then rushed into its trough, leaving our stomachs at the top as the next wave rose up behind us. Symon had managed to turn the boat around, so we were hurtling back toward land. We sped up and down the mountainous waves as if in a race for our very lives. The violent movement made me as seasick as Luna had been, but I was so frantic to bail that I would not give in to my queasiness.

By the time the shore came into view, the boat was filled with water and we were riding very low. My arms trembled with exhaustion, but I kept bailing and saw that Luna had found another bucket and was doing the same. It was clear that we were not approaching the strand where we had stayed the night; I could see the red-tiled roofs of many buildings as we swiftly drew closer. We were speeding straight into the harbor of Vittray, its waters dotted with anchored trading ships.

The ships’ crews stood on the decks and watched in astonishment as we whipped past them. Their open mouths and pointing hands were a blur to me. With the gale at our backs, we sped through the harbor as if hurled by an unseen hand. Symon struggled with the tiller, and somehow we avoided the vessels, big and small, rocking on their tethers.

On we raced, using the oars to try to keep us from colliding with one boat and then another. Then I saw the great pier of Vittray, which stuck out a hundred yards into the harbor. It seemed that we would surely hit it—we must hit it!—but I had forgotten how very small the batteau was, and how low it rode. Instead, as we whooshed under the pier, the mast struck it and broke off with a great
crack
. And with one last thrust, the wind heaved the
Cateline
onto the sandy beach beneath the pier. The sudden stop flung all three of us—Captain, First Mate, and Deckhand—out of the boat and into a sodden heap on the shore.

9

Of a Refuge and a Route

L
anding on the hard sand knocked the air right out of me. There was a horrible moment when I couldn’t breathe and was sure I never would breathe again, and then a sudden, painful gasp as I inhaled. As soon as my lungs filled, I spat out a mouthful of sand.

I heard Luna bellow, “Get that elbow out of my ear!” Thank goodness she was all right. I was pretty certain it was my elbow she meant, but I could barely move. Finally I pushed at the bodies atop me and struggled out of the wet pile on hands and knees, stopping only when I saw a circle of feet at my eye level. We were surrounded.

I lifted my gaze past ankles, shins, and waists fat and skinny, to the startled faces of the people of Vittray. They gaped at us in amazement. I could see why—it must have looked like an invisible hand had pushed us beneath the pier in our little boat and tumbled us out onto the sand. What a tale for fishermen and boat builders to tell by their firesides! But the stares made me aware of what a mess I was, and I began to feel very awkward and uncomfortable.

We got stiffly to our feet, trying to brush the sand off our soaked clothes. “Well, what are you staring at?” Luna challenged the shocked faces around us. “Have you never seen shipwreck victims before?”

A woman with iron-gray hair and broad red cheeks stepped forward. “Child,” she exclaimed, “you were lucky you weren’t all killed!”

A rough-looking man beside her said, “’Twas no normal wind pushing at your vessel, but something altogether strange.”

I reached up to be sure that my kerchief still covered my hair. Luna’s cap and Symon’s had been snatched away by the storm.

“Symon!” came a voice from the crowd, and a middle-aged man with a tanned, weathered face and a gap between his front teeth stepped forward. “What on earth happened, lad?”

Symon shook his head, sending sand flying. “A freak wind, Albert,” he replied.

“It was no such thing!” Luna objected, but before she could continue, I grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard. Confused, she looked at me, and I gave her the smallest shake of my head.

“We know it was no freak wind,” I murmured, low. “I’m sure as can be that it was some magic or enchantment. But we mustn’t draw more attention to ourselves.” Luna’s eyes lit with excitement, and she squeezed my hand back, signaling that she understood.

Albert whistled and walked around the
Cateline
, its bow half-buried in the sand. “I’ve never seen the like,” he said. “Your boat will need some work, that’s certain.”

“Aye, that it will,” Symon said ruefully, looking at the mastless, battered craft.

“That’s nothing you cannot fix,” said the red-cheeked woman. “You, Albert, take Jean and bring down the spruce trunk from our shed. It’s not finished, but Symon can use it for a mast until he can get his own.”

“But ’tis ours, Mathilde!” protested Albert.

“Nonsense, Husband,” the woman said sternly. “Do we need two masts? Have we two boats? I think not. Bring the tools as well. You, Symon, go home and get some dry clothes on, and I’ll take your guests—” And here she broke off, an inquisitive look on her face. I was ready to leap in with a story, but Luna spoke first.

“We’re Symon’s cousins,” she said, lying with ease. “Distant cousins. We were passing through and stopped to visit. Symon was giving us a taste of the fisherman’s life.”

“Quite a taste!” Albert said. “I doubt you’ll want to feast again at that table!” The others hooted with laughter, and even we, soaked and bruised, had to smile. I could see that Symon was puzzled at Luna’s lie, but to my relief he went along with her story.

“Have you dry things at your cousin’s cottage?” Madame Mathilde asked us. We shook our heads, and I pointed to our sacks, flung out of the boat onto the sand.

“Those are our spare clothes,” I said. It was clear they were as wet as we were.

“Then you will have to borrow,” Madame Mathilde ordered. “I’ve clothes aplenty, for my nine children and five grandchildren come and go and always leave something behind. Follow me.”

Trailing like a brood of chicks behind their hen, we went with Madame Mathilde into Vittray. As we trudged up the cobblestoned street, dozens of people on foot walked by in either direction, giving us curious looks. Horse-drawn wagons piled high with goods passed us, carrying items of all sorts from the ships in the harbor to the rest of the kingdom. The noise and bustle were strange and bewildering to me, and I hugged my sodden cloak around me anxiously. Luna was enthralled by the town, though. Several times I had to drag her away from a shop window displaying bolts of cloth or candles of all sizes or breads round, long, and braided. Everything was new to her, after being so long sheltered from the world.

The storm was gone completely, and no breeze blew, yet suddenly I sensed an unnatural chill. A moment later the back of my neck tingled, as though someone were watching me. I looked around, but I saw nothing suspicious among the people we passed in the street. Uneasy, I moved close to Luna and whispered, “I believe that Manon is near.”

“Do you really think so?” Luna whispered back, her eyes wide.

“I feel just as I did in the forest yesterday. There’s a chill, and a sense of being watched. What else could it be?”

Luna spun about so quickly that I nearly tripped over her. “Where is she?”

“Hush!” I hissed. “I can’t see her, but I’m sure that she’s close by. Please be careful what you say.”

“I wish she would show herself,” Luna said in a low voice. “If I could just get my hands on her . . .” I wanted to laugh, imagining Luna against the might of our wicked fairy cousin, but I was also touched. She was like a fierce little banty rooster, my sister, pecking at anything that threatened.

As Symon turned away from us toward his own cottage, Madame Mathilde called, “Lad, come to my house when your repairs are done. I’ll have supper for you, and your cousins can bide the night with us. There’s room for all.”

“I will, Madame Mathilde!” Symon waved and ran down a dirt lane toward a small, neat dwelling.

We soon reached Madame Mathilde’s oaken door, which she pushed open to reveal a snug parlor with comfortable chairs and settees. A veritable crowd of people rose and came to greet us. Despite the commotion, I could not keep from yawning hugely. I felt myself drooping, and Madame Mathilde’s keen eyes noticed. She did not bother with introductions but simply said, “These are three of my children, and two of their children. Oh, and the baby. We will be more formal when you are dried. Gaby, take these folk upstairs and find them some dry clothes. They’ve had a bit of a spill, boating.”

“I can see that!” the girl, Gaby, said, smiling and hooking her arm through mine. “Come with me, you two, and we’ll set you right.”

Under the eaves upstairs, we took the bundles of clothes Gaby handed us. I paused as she opened a bedroom door and said, “You can change in here.” Should I take Luna into the room with me? After all, she was pretending to be a boy. But we were saved having to choose when Gaby pointed Luna toward another room, and she darted inside.

I stripped off my soaked clothes and brushed the sand from my skin as well as I could. I had just pulled a dry shift over my head when a quick knock sounded and the door opened.

Madame Mathilde stood in the doorway, holding a towel, her lips pursed. “I brought you this, lass,” she said. “And I’ve one for the lad. Or should I say the other lass?”

I blushed and looked at the floor. “Yes, the other lass,” I admitted, and she nodded.

“And not just lasses, but princesses both, eh?”

I stared at her, dumbstruck. How did she know?

“I thought as much,” she said, shaking her head. “And you should not be surprised to hear that people are looking for you. You and your sister will make things clear to me, I hope.”

She left the room as briskly as she’d entered, and I pulled on the dress Gaby had given me and dried my hair with the towel, braided it, and covered it again with the kerchief. Then I hurried down the stairs to the parlor and sat before the fire, tickling the baby as he lay kicking on the floor while Gaby and the others looked on curiously.

Luna descended, and I could see from her uncomfortable expression that Madame Mathilde had spoken to her too. Madame Mathilde ordered her children and grandchildren to leave us, and they obeyed as meekly as we had when we followed her home.

After the rest of the family was gone, I pulled out the vial of devil’s shrub, which luckily had survived the voyage. I gave it to Madame Mathilde, asking if she would make tea, and she quickly did. We sat at the rough table as I sipped and revived. Then the questions began.

“Do you know your father’s guards have been searching through the town?” Madame Mathilde demanded. We shook our heads, cowed. “Have you heard that your dear royal mother has taken to her bed, sick with fear and desperation?”

“Oh no!” I cried.

“And that your tutor has been questioned and accused of engineering your disappearance? Soldiers took him from the main square and dragged him away. He may well be in the palace dungeon already.”

“Poor Mama,” I breathed. “Poor Master Julien! Oh, Madame Mathilde, can’t we send a message to the castle to let them know we’re all right?”

“If we do, they’ll be here before you can blink,” Luna pointed out. “And we’ll be back in our rooms, under lock and key. And you’ll be asleep!”

I dropped my head into my hands in dismay. Again, Luna was right. It was really quite maddening, how often she’d been right in the last two days.

“Your Highnesses, you must explain yourselves,” Madame Mathilde commanded, not at all afraid to tell a princess what to do. She was surely the bossiest woman I had ever met, but I believed she could be trusted.

I raised my head and replied, “Yes, Madame Mathilde, I’ll disclose everything. But we must tell our story to Symon as well, for he knows nothing of it. Please let me wait until he comes.”

Madame Mathilde frowned, but then she nodded. “In the meantime, we will eat,” she said. She brought us more tea—berry tea, this time—and bread and cheese and meat pasties, and we ate ravenously. Before very long, Symon and Albert returned and joined us at the table.

“That’s done!” Albert reported cheerfully. “The mast is up, the sail’s replaced, and the weakened boards are patched.”

“I’m very grateful,” Symon said soberly to him and Madame Mathilde. “I will pay you back when I can.”

“Don’t be foolish, boy,” Madame Mathilde chided him. “Bring us ten fat fish and we’ll call it even.” Symon shook his head, but I could see that he knew better than to argue with her.

“I’ve told Albert what it is that you seek,” Symon informed us. “We can set out again in the morning.” He helped himself to the food that Madame Mathilde handed around.

Albert looked doubtful. “I know you’ve always had the urge in ye to explore, lad,” he said, “but those waters is deep, and your boat small. Might be your cousins should find another to take ’em—someone with a hardier vessel.”

“And there is something you must know first,” I said to Symon, before he could object. “We haven’t told you everything. And some of what we have told you isn’t entirely true.”

I proceeded to explain who we were and what had happened to us, recounting the tale of enchantment old and new, of good fairy and bad. Symon’s and Albert’s and Madame Mathilde’s eyes grew wide with surprise and alarm.

At the story’s end, Symon let out a low whistle, much as Albert had done on the strand. “So you’re under a curse, and you seek a cure,” he said to me, as if trying the idea out.

“Yes,” I said softly, and he shook his head in wonder.

Then he turned to Luna. “And you are indeed a girl,” he said.

“You knew?” she asked, surprised.

“I guessed—but not that you were a princess.” He turned back. “You should have told me.” He gave me a look I could not read.

“I don’t see why it matters,” Luna protested. “Would you have treated us differently if you had known?”

He thought before he answered. “I doubt it,” he said at last. “But you should have allowed me to make the choice. My boat was nearly destroyed, and it’s my livelihood—though you’d know nothing of that.”

His words were harsh, but they were no more than we deserved. “Forgive us,” I pleaded. “We were wrong not to tell you. We didn’t think we’d be putting you in such danger. I promise, we won’t keep secrets from you again.”

Symon’s furrowed brow smoothed at my apology, and he gave me a tiny, crooked smile. “Very well, Your Highness,” he said, and I smiled back, hearing the teasing behind the title.

“A woman selling quill pens,” Madame Mathilde mused. “I remember seeing such a woman, this market day past. She was new to the town and wouldn’t mingle with the rest of us. It could well have been that Manon. I didn’t like the looks of her—and now I know why.”

“Have you seen her since?” I asked.

“I have indeed,” she said. “She was in the group that gathered round you on the beach. She saw you come into the harbor. I don’t doubt that she knows you are with me now.”

I thought of the strange feeling I’d had walking up from the harbor and exchanged a horrified glance with Luna. We leaped up and ran to the front window, expecting to see a wizened, foul face staring in at us. The view showed only laden wagons in the street and the townspeople going about their business, but I knew Manon had to be somewhere near.

“We must flee!” I cried, turning back to the others.

Madame Mathilde agreed. “You should go as soon as you can, but I believe that we have something that may help you on your journey.” She conferred with Albert, who went to a wooden trunk in the corner of the room and opened it, pulling out a sheaf of parchment. Symon joined him, and they spread the papers out on the floor.

“Maps!” Symon exclaimed, smoothing out one, then another.

“This one, I think,” Albert said, pointing. Luna and I peered over Symon’s shoulder, trying to make sense of it. The lower right side of the map showed a town, and I realized it was Vittray, its streets and lanes marked and named. To the left was the harbor, and the rest of the map seemed a vast blue emptiness, dotted with a few brown patches.