The Princess Academy (its time to shine)

Chapter 2

nWater in the porridge

And more salt in the gruel

Doesn't make a belly

Full, not a bellyful

Let's do what we came for," shouted a trader.

His voice was an invitation to break the silence. Even such strange news could not delay the most important trading of the year.

"Enrik!" Miri jogged to the trader she had dealt with for the past two years. He was lank and pale, and the way he looked down his thin nose at her reminded Miri of a bird that had gone too long without a grub.

Enrik drove his wagon to the stack of finished stones that represented her family's portion of the past three months' work. Miri pointed out the unusually large size of one block and the quality of the silver grain in others, all the while eyeing the contents of his wagon and calculating how much food her family would need to get through the winter.

"These stones are easily worth your haul," said Miri, trying her best to mimic Doter's warm, solid tone of voice. No one ever argued with Esa and Peder's ma. "But to be nice, I'll trade our stones for everything in your wagon except one barrel of wheat, one bag of lentils, and a crate of salt fish, so long as you include that pot of honey."

Enrik clicked his tongue. "Little Miri, your village is lucky any traders come all this way just for stone. I'll give you half of what you asked."

"Half? You're joking."

"Look around," he said. "Haven't you noticed fewer wagons this year? Other traders hauled supplies to the academy instead of to your village. Besides, your pa won't need so much with you and your sister gone."

Miri folded her arms. "This academy business is just a trick to cheat us, isn't it? I knew it had to be something sneaky because no lowlander is going to make a girl from Mount Eskel into royalty."

"After the news of the academy, no family with eligible girls is going to barter for any better, so you'd best take my offer before I drive away."

Sounds of frustrated conversations blew around the town center. Peder's ma was red-faced and yelling, and Frid's ma looked ready to hit someone.

"But I . . . I wanted . . ." She had visualized coming home triumphant with a load fit to feed two families.

"But I wanted . . . ," Enrik mimicked her in a squeaky voice. "Now don't let your chin get to quivering. I'll give you the honey, just because someday you might be my queen."

That made him laugh. As long as she got to bring home some honey, Miri did not mind his laugh. Not much, anyway.

Enrik drove to her house and helped her unload, at least. It gave Miri a chance to take some pleasure in how often he stumbled and tripped on the stony turf.

Miri's house was built of rubble rock, the plain gray stone the quarriers pulled out of the earth to uncover linder. The back of her house leaned against the sheer wall of a dead quarry, the one of her father's childhood that had offered linder with soft blue streaks. Linder and rubble rock debris piled as high as the windowsills.

Miri busied herself around the house all afternoon, sorting and storing their winter supplies, shying away from the thought that it would not be enough to see the three of them through winter. They could eat many of the rabbits and perhaps kill a goat, but that loss would make things even tighter the next winter and the next. Stupid, cheating lowlanders.

When the sunlight streaking through her shutters was orange and hazy, the sound of pounding began to falter. By the time her pa and Marda opened the door, it was night. Miri had ready pork, oat, and onion stew, with fresh cabbage to celebrate a trading day.

"Evening, Miri," said her pa, kissing the top of her head.

"I got Enrik to give us a pot of honey," said Miri.

Marda and Pa hummed over her small triumph, but the poor trading and strange news of the academy were on their minds, and no one was able to pretend cheeriness, even over honey.

"I'm not going," said Miri as she prodded her chilling stew. "Are you, Marda?"

Marda shrugged.

"They think the village could do without half the girls?" said Miri. "Who'd help you in the quarry with Marda gone? And without me, who would do all the housework and tend the rabbits and the goats and all the things that I do?" She bit half her lip and looked at the fire. "What do you think, Pa?"

Her father rubbed a callused finger over the rough grain of the table. Miri held still as a rabbit listening.

"I'd miss my girls," he said.

Miri exhaled. He was on their side, and he would not let the lowlanders take her away from home. Even so, she found it difficult to finish dinner. She hummed to herself a song about tomorrows.