the men was saying. “Might be a good time to—”
He noticed Miri.
“Who is this?” he asked, staring pointedly at her feathered cap and fur-lined cloak.
“Don’t let her nobleness fool you,” said Clemen. He put an arm around Miri’s shoulder and blew her feather out of his face. “She’s one of us.”
Miri felt the warmth of those words as if they were a blazing hearth fire.
Another apartment was stuffed with girls—Miri counted twelve, and all younger than she. Miri asked if they attended school, and their faces lit up at the idea. However, all but the youngest worked in a glass factory, their blistered fingertips proof.
“I’d thought all lowland—I mean, Aslander children went to school,” Miri said when they’d returned to Sisela’s house.
“There are some schools, but few shoeless attend,” said Sisela. “Nobles demand higher tributes every year. Children must work alongside parents just to earn enough to eat.”
“Most of the adults can read, so we leave the leaflets,” said the woman Cristin, still wearing her servant garb.
“We must be able to do more to help,” Miri said.
“I agree.” Timon paced before the window, hands in his pockets. “All we do is write leaflets. Talk without action. When will the people finally rise up?”
“Patience.” Sisela put a hand on his back and he stopped pacing, his shoulders still tense. “We are gathering straw and stacking it high. All the fire needs is a spark.”
“We should seek outside help,” Timon said in a low voice.
He looked at Sisela, and she nodded and then shrugged, and Miri had the idea that an entire conversation had just passed in silence.
What do you mean by outside help , Miri was about to ask, but Clemen began to punch out a tune on the piano.
“When the spark comes,” said Clemen, “the fire will burn bright enough for the whole kingdom to see. We already have many on our side. Including our very own lady of the princess!”
Miri recognized his music as “All Hail the King,” an anthem to the monarch. Cristin coiled a scarf and placed it on Miri’s head like a crown, and a couple of the young scholars put Miri on their shoulders and spun her around.
Miri blushed and laughed, but took off the play crown as soon as her feet touched the floor.
“I don’t mean to betray Britta by being here,” she said. “She’s not like the king and queen. I’m sure when she’s princess she’ll look after the shoeless. I mean, if the changes don’t come like we hope.”
Sisela draped the scarf over Miri’s shoulders, as though dressing a doll. “Think with your mind and not your heart. Is it right that the poor go hungry while the wealthy feast?”
“No, but—”
“Is it right that our very lives are subject to a man who did nothing more than be born to a queen?”
“No.”
“I need you to believe, Miri, that things can change. If you don’t believe, you who changed your own home, how can we convince a country?”
“Lady Sisela—” Miri started.
“Sisi,” she corrected gently. She patted the lounge beside her, and Miri sat.
“You’re a noble,” Miri said. Judging from the others’ clothes, Sisela was the only noble in the room besides Miri. “Why do you work so hard for the commoners’ sake?”
Sisela tilted her head and smiled. “I don’t need to tell you this, Miri, not you of all people, but there is right and there is wrong. Even a noble should be able to tell the difference.”
“We could try to unite nobility and commoners to bring change together,” said Miri. “Others must think as you—and I—do. I mean, nobles can’t all be bad, right?”
“Show her the ledger,” said Timon.
Clemen looked at Sisela, and she nodded. He reached under the piano, removed a slat of wood, and brought out a thick leather-bound book. Timon placed it on Miri’s lap.
The title was Ledger of His Majesty’s Grievance Official . In her course on Law, Miri had learned that if commoners accused a
He noticed Miri.
“Who is this?” he asked, staring pointedly at her feathered cap and fur-lined cloak.
“Don’t let her nobleness fool you,” said Clemen. He put an arm around Miri’s shoulder and blew her feather out of his face. “She’s one of us.”
Miri felt the warmth of those words as if they were a blazing hearth fire.
Another apartment was stuffed with girls—Miri counted twelve, and all younger than she. Miri asked if they attended school, and their faces lit up at the idea. However, all but the youngest worked in a glass factory, their blistered fingertips proof.
“I’d thought all lowland—I mean, Aslander children went to school,” Miri said when they’d returned to Sisela’s house.
“There are some schools, but few shoeless attend,” said Sisela. “Nobles demand higher tributes every year. Children must work alongside parents just to earn enough to eat.”
“Most of the adults can read, so we leave the leaflets,” said the woman Cristin, still wearing her servant garb.
“We must be able to do more to help,” Miri said.
“I agree.” Timon paced before the window, hands in his pockets. “All we do is write leaflets. Talk without action. When will the people finally rise up?”
“Patience.” Sisela put a hand on his back and he stopped pacing, his shoulders still tense. “We are gathering straw and stacking it high. All the fire needs is a spark.”
“We should seek outside help,” Timon said in a low voice.
He looked at Sisela, and she nodded and then shrugged, and Miri had the idea that an entire conversation had just passed in silence.
What do you mean by outside help , Miri was about to ask, but Clemen began to punch out a tune on the piano.
“When the spark comes,” said Clemen, “the fire will burn bright enough for the whole kingdom to see. We already have many on our side. Including our very own lady of the princess!”
Miri recognized his music as “All Hail the King,” an anthem to the monarch. Cristin coiled a scarf and placed it on Miri’s head like a crown, and a couple of the young scholars put Miri on their shoulders and spun her around.
Miri blushed and laughed, but took off the play crown as soon as her feet touched the floor.
“I don’t mean to betray Britta by being here,” she said. “She’s not like the king and queen. I’m sure when she’s princess she’ll look after the shoeless. I mean, if the changes don’t come like we hope.”
Sisela draped the scarf over Miri’s shoulders, as though dressing a doll. “Think with your mind and not your heart. Is it right that the poor go hungry while the wealthy feast?”
“No, but—”
“Is it right that our very lives are subject to a man who did nothing more than be born to a queen?”
“No.”
“I need you to believe, Miri, that things can change. If you don’t believe, you who changed your own home, how can we convince a country?”
“Lady Sisela—” Miri started.
“Sisi,” she corrected gently. She patted the lounge beside her, and Miri sat.
“You’re a noble,” Miri said. Judging from the others’ clothes, Sisela was the only noble in the room besides Miri. “Why do you work so hard for the commoners’ sake?”
Sisela tilted her head and smiled. “I don’t need to tell you this, Miri, not you of all people, but there is right and there is wrong. Even a noble should be able to tell the difference.”
“We could try to unite nobility and commoners to bring change together,” said Miri. “Others must think as you—and I—do. I mean, nobles can’t all be bad, right?”
“Show her the ledger,” said Timon.
Clemen looked at Sisela, and she nodded. He reached under the piano, removed a slat of wood, and brought out a thick leather-bound book. Timon placed it on Miri’s lap.
The title was Ledger of His Majesty’s Grievance Official . In her course on Law, Miri had learned that if commoners accused a
Similar Books
