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don’t!” he said pleasantly. “Here is something you can teach me. I’m sure you’re an excellent teacher.”
    She was about to tell him that she was the teacher in the village school, and that whenever the boys got to daydreaming, she would say something silly to get their attention, such as “The first king of Danland was Dan the Hearted, and the second was his son, Jons Herring-Breath” or “Lowlanders will pay us high prices for Mount Eskel’s treasured goat hair, which they sprinkle on potatoes” or “And that’s why we wear underpants on our heads.”
    But before she could speak, he bowed over her hand and kissed her between her second and third knuckles.
    She forgot her words.
    “I very much hope you will be a regular at our Salon nights, Lady Miri,” he whispered.
    He kissed her hand again and left. No one had ever kissed her hand before.
    Probably just another lowlander custom , she thought.
    Her heart pulsed in her vision now, and it took her a few moments to look around and realize she was at the gate to the palace.
    She wandered through the dark corridors, her head still popping-tight, her hand now tingling. She wanted to talk to someone about Lady Sisela, “The Shoeless March,” and Timon. Perhaps Britta was still awake? She held up her fist to knock at her door and then stopped.
    The king was Steffan’s father. Would Britta feel required to tell him? Better, perhaps, to follow Katar’s advice and keep it to herself until she knew more. Besides, Lady Sisela’s husband had been executed just for saying he disapproved of the king’s tributes.
    Some ideas were safer left unspoken.
    Autumn Week Twelve
    Dear Marda,
Each morning I wake, eat, dress, and run out to meet Timon. We walk to the Queen’s Castle, where I study all day. I get back to the palace just in time for supper and “Miri’s Salon.” That is what the girls call our evening chats, when I teach them some of what I learned that day. And then I study till I fall asleep on my books.
I am sorry to report that I am the dullest scholar in all of Asland. I have had so little schooling compared to the other students, I have to work twice as hard to keep up. When Britta is free, she helps me study. Her worried face relaxes when I enter her room.
I should attend another Salon night. Katar pesters me to learn more. But when would I go? Besides, their talk scared me some. I wish I were as brave as you think I am. Maybe everything will work out without my help. I hope so.
I worry that much of my letters makes no sense to you, Marda. I do not want to think anything separates us but the distance itself. I do not want to become someone you would not understand.
Your dull and bewildered sister,
    Miri

Chapter Eight

Melted salt, drenched air
Rocking ground, fish lair
    Master Filippus marched down the walkway, the scholars in blue robes surrounding his black robes like the iris of an eye. He lectured on the classification of vegetation, but Miri suspected the focus on Natural Science was just a ruse to get outside. Even master scholars could appreciate a sunny winter day.
    Soon the ocean rose into view. Miri could see now that its waters did not pour like a river or stand like a pond, but were constantly moving in great heaving bursts. And it was huge!
    Miri pressed her lips together, determined to be grumpy. Liking the ocean seemed a betrayal of Mount Eskel. Both could not be magnificent.
    As they neared the dock, Master Filippus’s lecture turned to Commerce.
    “Fish account for a third of Danland’s sustenance. The sunny shores of Fuska province give us salt, salt preserves the fish, salt fish is carted to all parts of Danland, and no one goes hungry.”
    Miri shook her head. Some salt fish did make it all the way to Mount Eskel. Even so, Miri and Marda had spent many nights curled up in bed, their knees and arms pressed to their middles, as if pushing against the hunger would make it go away.
    On the docks, mountains of crates awaited