Sleeping Beauty's Daughters (4 page)

“Mama and Papa have forbidden us ever to use it,” I pointed out. “They say it’s unsafe—and besides, it’s outside the palace wall.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” she said lightly. It was clear from her tone that she had snuck out and tried the ladder herself. For once, I thought, Luna’s misbehavior might come in handy.

I said, “Ah well, the old rules don’t matter much anymore, do they?”

Luna stared at me. I knew it was as unlikely a statement as she could ever imagine me making, and it pleased me a little to shock her. Then she grinned and replied, “No, they don’t. Let us break the rules and descend the perilous steps and find our great-great-great-godmother Emmeline, Sister!”

7

Of a Desperate Descent

W
e threw the pen that had pierced my finger onto the fire in the classroom fireplace, where it burned with an unnatural, multicolored flame. Taking up a piece of chalk, I started to write the note for Mama and Papa. It was hard to find the right words. In truth, I knew that it didn’t really matter. Our parents would be utterly distraught no matter what I wrote. But I settled on this:

Dearest Mama and Papa,

By now you know we have gone, but please do not be afraid. We seek Emmeline, for the curse has come true in some small part. I am awake, though, and hope Emmeline can keep me so. I know you will worry, and I am sorry. All will be well.

Your devoted daughter,

Aurora

As I wrote, Luna gathered materials that she thought might be useful on our journey. “We can’t go off looking like this,” she said, pointing at our elegant satin dresses. “People will know who we are—or at least wonder, and ask. We don’t want to draw attention to ourselves, do we?”

“No indeed!” I replied. “But all our dresses are silk or satin or velvet, and finely made.”

“I shall steal some clothes from the maids,” Luna said nonchalantly.

“Luna!” I reproached her. “We can’t steal—it would be wrong!” I felt ridiculous as soon as the words left my mouth. What a prig I was!

Untroubled, Luna said, “I have some coins. I’ll leave them as payment. Will that do?”

“I suppose it will.” I wondered where she had gotten the coins—but I knew that it was best not to ask.

Luna soon returned from the maids’ quarters with her bounty, and she and I hurried to our bedchambers to change, agreeing to meet back in the classroom. I slipped on the coarse gray woolen dress she’d found for me. It was rather itchy and ill-fitting, and I looked frightful in it. It did have pockets, though, which I quite liked. None of my own dresses did, and I had always thought they would be useful for holding a pretty stone found on a walk or a sliver of tart from the kitchen. I slipped the vial of devil’s shrub into one of the dress pockets; I wanted to keep it close. Even now I could feel Sleep reaching out from the corner where I had pushed it.

I braided my hair tightly and covered it with a kerchief, so its golden color wouldn’t attract attention. Though the day was warm, I put on the servant’s cloak Luna had brought me, for I knew the sea breeze could be cold at night.

When Luna reached the classroom in her borrowed outfit, I stared at her in shock. Instead of a maid’s garb, she had taken the clothes of one of the smaller manservants. She wore breeches, a tunic, and soft boots. A little cap sat atop her short curls. Now she truly did look like a boy—a very pretty, spirited boy. It was clear that this was her intent, for she laughed at my stunned expression and twirled around.

“I had no idea!” she crowed. “Men are so free—no heavy skirts to pull them down and catch on things, no tight bodices to squeeze the breath from their lungs! I shall dress in breeches from now on!”

I reached out, straightened her cap, and replied, “Ah, but someday you might find those skirts and bodices useful in their own way.”

“I doubt that,” Luna retorted cheerfully. She handed me a bundle of food she had taken from the kitchen, and then shouldered her pack, which she had stuffed with more clothing and utensils she thought we might use.

“I can carry the pack,” I said. “I am older, after all.”

“You carry the weight of your enchantment,” Luna replied soberly. “That is a heavier burden than mine.” Her words surprised me with their thoughtfulness—but they were true, for Sleep pressed down on me like a stone.

I slid the slate with the note I had written under a Latin text on the table, knowing that when our absence was discovered, Mama and Papa would come to the last place we had been—the classroom—to look for us. I was sure they would search everywhere. I didn’t want them to discover the note soon enough to follow and stop us, but I did want them to find it.

And then we set out.

Of course it was not as simple as strolling down the drive to the road. We didn’t want to be observed, for one thing. The guards at the gate would never let us leave without our parents. And the palace grounds were surrounded by a great stone wall, far taller than any man. The wall started at the cliffs on one side of the palace, made a vast semicircle around it, and ended at the cliffs on the other side. There were acres of land within it, so its presence had never bothered me. In the past, I had never wanted to go farther than the gardens or the small forest it enclosed. Now the wall was a problem, but Luna knew what to do.

“There’s a place in the woods where some rocks have come loose,” she told me as we strolled through the gardens, our cloak hoods up in case anyone should notice us.

“Papa didn’t have that fixed?” I asked, surprised.

“Papa doesn’t know it needs fixing,” Luna said smugly. “When I saw the stones were loose, I pried them out until there was a hole big enough to slip through. Then I . . . slipped through.”

I didn’t know whether to scold her or admire her. “And what was on the other side?”

Luna scowled. “Woods, of course. The same woods that are on this side. I was quite disappointed. And then, when I came back, I made certain to replace the stones so that no one could tell they were loose.”

I sighed, giving in to admiration. “All right, show me our escape route.”

We walked down the hill away from the cliffs and entered the forest, the white birches with their papery bark rustling in the breeze. I thought about the words I had said—
our
escape route
. It sounded as if we were in prison, and I saw that it was true. We were very nearly prisoners in our own home, enclosed and entrapped by guards, and high walls, and our parents’ anxious love. I had never quite realized it before.

When we reached the wall, my sister pulled away the stones at its base, exposing a hole just big enough to crawl through. The opening appeared menacing to me, but I didn’t want Luna to see my fear, so I knelt down and wriggled through.

On the other side, everything looked just the same; Luna was right. But it felt very strange to me, and it was not just that I had never been outside the wall without permission before. The air seemed to have thickened and darkened and grown cooler. I shivered, despite the summer warmth and my cloak, but I said nothing.

“Oh dear,” Luna said after she had scrambled through the hole. “Look, the stones are on the other side. Anyone can see how we’ve gone through here.”

I looked at the hole in the wall and the small pile of stones we had left on the other side. Finally I shrugged. “They’ll come after us by nightfall anyway,” I said. “Does it matter if they know how we got out?”

“I suppose not,” Luna replied. “They won’t know which direction we’ve taken. Probably they’ll think we’ve gone to town. But I think we should get as far from the palace as we can, so we won’t be stopped.”

I started to walk, but Luna quickly said, “Aurora, we have to get to the sea. The cliffs are this way!” She pointed in the opposite direction. I turned and moved toward her, but in a minute I found myself angling off again.

“What on earth are you doing?” Luna demanded.

“I—I don’t know,” I said uncertainly. “I can’t seem to stay in a straight line!”

“Here,” Luna offered, “take my arm.”

I linked my arm with hers and leaned on her very slightly as we walked. I felt that if I let go of her, I would again head off into the woods away from the cliffs. I kept looking around, wondering what made me feel so odd, but I saw only birds and a hedgehog, and a slow-moving turtle that pulled its limbs into its shell as we passed. Once or twice I thought I felt eyes on us, making the back of my neck prickle, and I turned swiftly. But there was nothing there.

The way was not difficult, for the trees were thick enough to keep much underbrush from growing. We moved due north. To my surprise, Luna was able to tell the direction. “The sun is sinking, and it’s on our left, over the sea. Imagine a map. When west is on the left, then north is straight ahead.”

“Wherever did you learn that?” I asked her.

“There are a lot of books in the classroom,” she pointed out. “They’re not all so dull as Latin!”

My weariness and confusion slowed us, and we came to the chalk cliffs a little before sunset. The wind blew harder here, and far below, the waves crashed against the rocky shore. The sea breeze cleared my head, and I realized that I had been walking half-asleep. I drew in a deep breath.

“Are you all right?” Luna asked.

“There was a—a strangeness in the woods,” I told her. “Couldn’t you feel it?”

She shook her head. “I felt nothing out of the ordinary,” she replied. “What was it like?”

“It was cold, and heavy. I felt as if something was pulling at me. I thought for a minute that someone was . . . watching us. But it’s better here, by the sea.”

“Watching us? Who would be watching us?” Luna turned to look back the way we’d come.

“I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone. Perhaps it’s part of Manon’s magic, meant to scare me,” I said. Then, despite my anxiety, I yawned.

“We must brew more tea for you.” Alarmed, Luna started to search for wood to start a fire.

“Not until we get down to the water,” I objected. “If we build a fire there, the wind will blow the smoke away so none can see it.”

Luna gave me an approving look and said, “Very smart.”

We walked a half mile or so farther along the cliffs until we came to the ladder, attached to the cliff side with rusting bolts. I was appalled to see that many of the steps were rotted, and the bottom rungs were simply gone. It was impossible to tell how far a drop it would be from the last step to the shore below.

“That big storm in February must have pulled it to pieces.” Luna paused, looking at the ruined steps. “This won’t be easy!”

Peering over the cliff made me nervous. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“What choice do we have?” Luna asked practically. “We must get to the water and find a boat—and we must not be seen. We can’t just walk into town.”

“But it isn’t safe,” I said weakly. The thought of climbing over the side and descending a ladder that could tear itself from the cliff at any moment made me feel quite shaky. I tightened my grip on her arm.

“I’ll go first,” Luna decided. “That way I can catch you at the bottom.”

“Catch me?” I said. “I’m much heavier than you—I’ll knock you flat! And who will catch you?”

Luna grinned. “I’m like a cat,” she said. “I always land on my feet.”

We moved to the head of the ladder, and I let go of Luna’s arm. She turned her back to the sea so she could hold the wooden railings and began climbing down. She had to feel with her feet for each step, and I could hear the old wood creaking and groaning above the sound of the waves. But then she moved faster, until she came to the drop-off at the bottom. I peered anxiously over the edge as she lowered herself until she hung by her arms. Her feet dangled above the ground. Then she let go.

“A cat indeed!” I said, relieved, as Luna staggered on the stones below, trying to keep her balance. A moment later I could see her dancing about with glee.

“It’s fun, Sister!” she called, the wind snatching at her words.

I stood at the top of the ladder and turned. Gripping the railings so hard that I could feel splinters from the rotted wood piercing my skin, I put one foot on the top step. There! Step by step I inched my way downward. When my foot reached the fifth rung, it creaked and tilted, but I held on so tightly that I didn’t slip.

I don’t know whether it was because I was slower than Luna, or because I was heavier, or both. But when a sudden gust of wind shook the ladder, it gave a great rasping groan and began to break away from the cliff. Above me I could see each step swing free, one by one. The fourth step, the third, the second . . . When the top step broke loose I would plunge with the ladder to the rocks below. I cried out in terror and closed my eyes as I began to fall. It seemed to happen slowly, so that falling felt almost as I imagined flying might feel. And I had time to think to myself, most regretfully,
Oh, if only I had known I was to die like this, I wouldn’t have struggled so hard against Sleep!

8

Of a Sailor and a Storm Cloud

I
heard Luna scream as I tumbled down. Then, all at once, I jerked to a stop. I felt a firm grasp around my waist, like arms holding me up. I opened my eyes and saw the rocky beach below, where Luna stood gazing at me. Above me was the cliff. I floated in the air between the two, my skirts waving in the wind.

“Aurora!” Luna shouted. Leaping up as high as she could, she grabbed the bottom of my skirt and yanked me downward. As if something suddenly let me go, I fell to the ground.

After a moment Luna helped me to stand, and we gazed up at the cliff. A ray of sun pierced the thin clouds, which were tinged pink by the sunset. In the rosy light a figure gradually became visible. It hovered in the air, wavering and indistinct at first, then growing clearer. I could make out the shape of a man, a handsome face, a mouth open and laughing. Then, as the clouds covered the sun’s ray again, the form disappeared.

We were completely speechless.

“You there!” a voice cried, startling us. “Are you all right?”

I turned to see a boy rushing toward us, moving nimbly among the rocks. He was about my age or a little older, dressed in a patched and shapeless wool tunic. He had long, sun-streaked hair and wore an old knitted cap.

He drew up to us, panting, and asked again, “Are you all right? I saw the ladder fall, and then—” He broke off and pointed at the spot where we’d seen the apparition.

“You are surpassingly lucky, miss,” he said to me. “If that lutin had not been near—well, I hate to think of what would have happened to you!”

“A lutin? What on earth is a lutin?” Luna demanded.

“Why, it’s an imp,” the boy replied, as if she were an idiot for not knowing. “Have you never heard of lutins?”

Luna shook her head, but I remembered reading about them. “I thought they were only in folk stories,” I said. “Are they real? Are you sure?”

“Aye, miss, they’re real enough,” the boy said. “Lucky for you! They can fly through the air without wings and swim through the water without gills, and enter through closed doors and windows.” He grinned, a funny, lopsided grin. “They’re immortal, and invisible as well, when they wish to be.”

Luna was intrigued. “But are they good or wicked?”

The boy shrugged. “Neither—or both,” he replied. “I think they act as they please. I’ve heard of one who saved a maiden from robbers, and another who nailed a man to a wall by the ear.”

“Oh my,” I said faintly. “This one, I suppose, was good, for he surely saved me. If he hadn’t caught me . . .” Then I wobbled a bit, and Luna took my arm.

“We must build a fire and brew the tea,” she said urgently.

The boy looked surprised, but he said, “I have a fire lighted close by, and I was just going to cook some fish I’d caught.” He pointed to a sack that he’d dropped onto the sand when he ran toward us. “I can make tea as well. Will you eat with me?”

“We would be thankful to share your fire and your catch,” I said gratefully. The boy slung the sack over his shoulder, and we started down the strand together.

“I’m Symon,” the boy said as he walked sure-footedly among the rocks. “I’m a fisherman by trade.”

“My nose tells me that,” Luna murmured under her breath. I was too shaken and tired to scold her.

Stumbling after him, I said, “I am Aurora, and this is—” I broke off as Luna interrupted me.

“I am her brother Louis,” she said firmly, touching the cap on her cropped hair.

“Glad to make your acquaintance,” Symon told us. A moment later we reached a small opening in the cliff side. “Welcome to my humble abode,” he said, bowing as he motioned us inside. We ducked into the cave. It was damp but cozy, with a banked fire that Symon quickly coaxed to a warming blaze. Before the fire Symon had placed an old rag rug so he would not have to sit on the cold sand. A few cook pots and dishes were piled nearby.

At Luna’s urging, Symon pulled out a pot from the pile, filled it with fresh water that he had collected in a jar, and positioned it over the flames. The water boiled in a few minutes, and I sprinkled the devil’s shrub powder on top, brewing the tea. Then I drank deeply. Again I felt restored, and energy coursed through me. Symon watched without speaking, his eyes sharp and curious.

Then he said, “Supper!” and pulled a string of silver fish from the sack and a pan from the pile of cookware. We sat cross-legged on the rug and watched as he fried up a surprisingly tasty meal. We added bread and cheese from the food Luna had taken from the palace kitchen and ate every bite, burning our fingers on the crispy fish, for Symon had no forks. It was a fine feast, and we felt much better for it.

“That was not at all bad,” Luna said, patting her stomach, “though I’m sorry there’s no sweet.”

The boy burst out laughing. “Why, I’ll just bake you up a dessert, sir!” he said. “Would you like a cod pudding, or a sea bass tart?”

“There is no need to be rude,” Luna snapped, making him laugh again. She got up and stomped out of the cave, furious, and Symon looked quizzically at me.

“My . . . brother has a quick temper,” I explained. “He’ll be over it soon.” Symon raised an eyebrow, and I wondered if Luna’s disguise had entirely fooled him.

In fact, Luna was back again quite quickly, for the evening wind was chill. She sat close to the fire and listened as Symon explained why he fished alone.

“I’m an orphan,” he said matter-of-factly. “My father was a fisherman, and his father before him—as far back as any can remember. Father perished in the sea when I was just six, and I took up his nets and his boat as soon as I could. I caught enough to keep my mother and myself in food and clothing.” He paused for a moment. “This past winter Mother fell ill with ship fever and died. And so I fend for myself now.”

His voice was calm, though he described dreadful losses. I thought of Mama, so weak and delicate. I too could lose my mother. The terror she must be feeling over our disappearance could kill her. The idea made tears spring to my eyes.

“It’s not right, that you should have to live alone, and work so much!” I said, blinking hard.

“It’s the way it is,” Symon replied. “I love the sea. And there are those who watch out for me.”

“Who?” Luna asked, her anger forgotten.

Symon gave her a quick smile. “The fishermen of Vittray are kind, and are always willing to help me mend my torn nets. Their wives often have a loaf of bread or a pigeon pie extra. I do quite well.”

“Do you live in this cave? Do you not go to school?” I inquired.

“Oh, how wonderful!” Luna exclaimed. To live in a cave and not take lessons—that was her idea of bliss. But Symon shook his head.

“I stay here when the fish are running. I can reach them more easily—and earlier than the other fishermen—if I leave from this strand rather than the harbor. But I have a home in Vittray, my mother’s cottage. And though I don’t go to school anymore, I read. I learn from books. At home I have many, for my mother’s father was a schoolteacher. I love to read about the sea.” He closed his eyes and recited,

“A life on the ocean wave,

A home on the rolling deep,

Where the scattered waters rave,

And the winds their revels keep!”

Luna and I applauded. I knew a few sea poems myself, from the days when one of our tutors, Master Orland, had forced us to recite long verses every week. So I boldly replied,

“Who hath desired the Sea?—the sight of salt water unbounded—

The heave and the halt and the hurl and the crash of the comber wind-hounded?”

And back again Symon rejoined,

“I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied!”

We burst out laughing, very pleased with ourselves.

“I think I should like a life on the sea,” Luna said softly, tracing a pattern in the sand with her finger.

“But what of the fish smell?” I reminded her.

“Oh, I could get used to it, I’m sure,” she said.

“Well then, lad,” Symon told her, “you shall be my apprentice, and I will teach you to sail and fish!”

Luna caught my eye, and we smiled. I imagined her in her velvets and silks pulling in a net full of flapping, briny fish. What a mess she would be!

“But you two,” Symon said then, “what are you doing on the strand, a mile or more from Vittray harbor?”

We were silent for a moment, wondering how much to tell him. Finally I spoke. “We are on a kind of quest,” I said carefully. “My brother and I seek a relative of ours, a woman who lives on an island.”

“Why do you seek her?” Symon asked. It was a reasonable question, but of course we did not have a reasonable answer.

“Someone in our family is . . . ill, and our relative is the only one who can cure her.” I took a deep breath. “She is a fairy.”

“I see,” Symon said thoughtfully. “And where is the island?”

“We don’t know.” His eyes widened in surprise. “We only know she lives on an island.”

Symon considered this. “I don’t go out very far, for I have only a small boat—a batteau,” he said. “But I’ve heard tell of islands a few leagues to the north. I should be glad to take you, if my little craft can do it.”

“Oh, would you? Really?” I clasped my hands together. “I didn’t want to ask—but we don’t know how to sail, and we have no boat. It would be so kind of you! We could pay you well.”

Symon’s brows went up. I suppose we didn’t look as if we had much money in the pockets of our servants’ clothes. But he nodded and grinned his funny grin. “Then we all would benefit,” he said. “If the weather holds fine, we can leave at dawn.”

The night drew in, and we arranged ourselves as comfortably as we could around the fire. Luna and I had a whispered conference and decided that to keep me awake during the night, she would sleep a short while, until the devil’s shrub began to wear off. Then I would have more tea, and she would wake to help me stay up.

As the fire crackled, and Luna curled up on the rug beside me, Symon told a tale of the most renowned of the lutins, Leander. Long ago he had been a human prince, and an evil enchantress had hunted him, determined to destroy him.

“No one knew why the enchantress hated Leander so, but she was relentless. She followed him to the ends of the earth and trapped him in a deep cavern. For years he suffered there, waiting for the terrible end the enchantress had threatened him with. She came to him now and then, but she didn’t kill him, though in his loneliness and despair he longed for death.

“At last a beautiful fairy found Leander in his secret prison. She offered to change him into a lutin so he could escape. And Leander said yes.”

“So he was an imp, then?” I asked. “Aren’t they supposed to be little and funny-looking?”

“Lutins are a little different, I’ve heard. They look human because they once were human, but they’ve an imp’s powers.”

“Do you think Leander is the one who saved Aurora?” Luna asked sleepily.

“It could be,” Symon replied. “Leander is known for helping maidens in distress.”

I thought of the peculiar feeling of hanging in the air, with only invisible arms to support me. “I am very lucky, I suppose,” I said softly. But I did not feel lucky.

“We should sleep,” Symon said then, lying back and pulling his cloak over himself like a blanket. I covered Luna, already asleep, with her cloak.

The minutes passed with painful slowness as I tried to keep my eyes from closing. The waves broke against the shore in a muted, regular rhythm like the breath of the sea, and the fire’s warmth was like my mother’s arms, urging me to sleep. I dug my nails into my palms, got up, and danced around. I played a quiet game with myself, finding animal shapes on the cave wall made by the firelight’s flickering shadows. I held off making more tea as long as I dared, for the vial that held the devil’s shrub powder was very small, and I didn’t want to run out. Finally, though, I had to brew and drink a cupful. Then I shook Luna. She had always been a hard sleeper, and she muttered and protested and did not wake.

“What is it?” Symon whispered. “Can you not sleep?”

I looked at his kind face in the dancing firelight. “I dare not,” I said simply.

He didn’t ask more. “I will stay up with you,” he said, pushing aside his cloak.

“No, you needn’t,” I protested. He ignored me.

“We can tell stories,” he said. “There are many seafaring tales in the books I’ve read, if you care to hear them.”

“Oh, I would like that!” I exclaimed. So he told me the tale of a crazed sea captain who hunted a white whale that had bitten off his leg, until the whale took down his ship and him with it. Then he related the story of the ship’s crew that mutinied against a dreadful captain and were stranded on a strange island for years. And I told him the tale of the mariner Odysseus, who, on his way home from the Trojan War, had ten years of adventures before he could be reunited with his wife.

The glow of dawn appeared, turning the sand a pale peach color between the dark stones. Luna woke, cranky and hugely annoyed that we had spent the night in storytelling without her, but I hushed her complaints.

“You’re lucky you slept,” I told her. “You’ll be in charge of keeping us awake today.” She liked the responsibility of that and stopped grumbling.

We ate a quick meal of bread and cheese, and I had my tea, relieved to be alert again. Then we prepared Symon’s vessel for the journey.

It was a funny little boat, the batteau, flat-bottomed with a high prow. A weather-beaten script on the side read
Cateline
. “My mother’s name,” Symon said gruffly.

“It’s a very beautiful name,” I told him, and he smiled at me gratefully.

A short mast stuck up from the center of the boat like an afterthought, and from it Symon raised a small sail. Two benches were in front of the mast.

“Louis,” Symon said to Luna, but she didn’t respond. “Louis!” he repeated, and Luna remembered all at once that she was my brother now, not my sister.