Part One

2004-11-04T10:49:00.000Z

"So you're the other one," the blonde said, looking Rahel up and down. She cocked her head to one side. "Don't look much like him. Darusia, what do you think?"

The redhead lying on the chaise longue stopped pickaing at the glass bowl of nuts and stared at Rahel. Then she shrugged. "Looks about the same as you or me, to be honest."

The blonde nodded. "When were you born?"

Rahel shifted from one foot to the other. "December."

"Darusia's oldest, then. She was born in May, and I was born the April after, so you're in the middle."

"You can sit down, y'know," Darusia said. She motioned towards the couch. "We don't bite. Well, I don't."

"Ha ha, very funny."

"Thanks," Rahel said, sitting down. She had never felt so out of place before, not even when she had danced in the Covenant Church of New Jerusalem. It wasn't that they shared the same father, or why, but the differences in culture and upbringing were extraordinary.

The blonde threw herself into the windowseat and chewed on a knuckle for a moment before adding, "I guess this means we're going to be plagued by even more suitors now."

"Oh come on, Sanna, it's not as if you don't like the attention," Darusia said. She sniffed and popped a nut into her mouth, then pushed the bowl towards Rahel. "Here."

Wiping her hands on her skirt, Rahel took a few from the bowl and nibbled them slowly, watching her newly met sisters. There was a general similarity to their features, but when she looked more closely at them she lost the generalness in a the sea of specific features. Sanna was almost white-blonde, her eyes dark blue, and some inches taller than Rahel. Her bones practically shone through her skin, although that could have been because she was so thin. Darusia was practically Sanna's opposite. Her sunset hair fell into natural curls, her eyes brown, her skin milk-pale. She looked positively plump compared to Sanna, which left Rahel wondering where she fit between the two of them.

"So which one's your mother?" asked Sanna.

Rahel blinked. "Matxalene Euskadi of the New People. And yours?"

"Oo," Darusia huffed. "Now there's a question."

"My mother is Helen Magnusson, like you don't know."

"And mine is Seonag Southwell," Darusia said. "I didn't know the New People had last names."

She wasn't sure whether or not to be offended, so she settled for silence instead. In fact, she didn't know what to do with herself at all. Only a few hours had passed since the boat had drawn up to the pier/jetty, just off of a castle which was plainly a defensive fortress of ancient design.

"Actually, it's not a castle," Cade had said, nodding towards the stone walls. "It was originally built for the Native wars, over a thousand years ago. It's where the President stays when there's trouble. Haven't had to use it in years, though, probably not - " he stopped, glanced at her, then frowned and looked away.

- since you were born, Rahel silently supplied.

"You won't be staying there anyway," he continued. "You're staying at the big house, which is up in the town. It'll be very different from what you're used to."

And? She supposed he thought she would be some kind of barbarian who didn't know how to read or write, or even how to keep herself clean. Granted, the New People were outsiders, but still, over the week she had become increasingly annoyed at the assumption by Cade and the rest of the boat's crew that she was deaf to their comments and looks.

He pointed towards the town now coming into view. "See that big house there? That's New Pavilion. It's got a ballroom, a private library, gardens, everything the daughter of a President should have at her fingertips."

As she didn't have any of that at home. Who needed a garden when the world was right outside their door? Who needed a ballroom when dancing could be done anywhere? The Old Library was two weeks away by caravan, slightly less by horseback, and she had all the books she needed in the bookmobile.

She didn't understand why she had to do this. She had never met him, nor had any desire to know him.

Who was he but her mother's rapist?

The path from the jetty was made of more granite, flecks of mica sparking the intermittent sunshine. Gardens on either side of the path were filled with flowers, mostly laid to red hot pokers, golden mums, and daylilies, plus the odd dandelion, buttercup, and Indian Paintbrush.

The boat bumped the pier, lines were cast, and the ramo hit the ??? with the dull clatter of metal-edged wood. Wisely, Cade did not try to help her down the ramp.

A small group of people were waiting for them, and as soon as Rahel's foot touched the ???, the brown-haired woman stepped forward. "Hello, Cade. Rahel, welcome to Ticonderoga. I'm Elise, and this is Jones, Vogts, and Daley," she motioned towards the three men standing at her side. "They'll be your guards and guides while you remain here. I only ask that one of them go with you should you leave the house, particularly if you go into town."

Elise gestured towards the path. "I don't mean to suggest Ticonderoga or any of the other towns are dangerous, but it's always wise for the family of heads of state to have some sort of protection. Now I'm sure you must be quite tired after such a long journey, so I thought it best for you to get settled in your house before you meet anyone else. This is the Cooper Building, the seat of government here in New England."

"Rahel's from New England," Cade added.

"Oh," Elise shrugged one shoulder. "I wasn't sure. I don't know very much about the New People."

As if that made everything all right.

Elise led them through the building, through the ballroom and the marble hallways and out the main entrance, a grand, colonnaded portico. They went down one arm of the horseshoe drive and onto the main road.

The walk was pleasant enough, as the sun had finally come out from behind the clouds and taken the chill off the morning air. Elise pointed out the library, the church, the school, the common, and the meeting house, which Rahel thought rather redundant considering the Cooper Building was just up the way. Most of the houses were made of wood, although several were of brick. Overall, Ticonderoga was more or less the typical New England town.

Rahel's stomach was starting to rumble by the time they reached a two storey brick house in the Federal style.

"This will be your home while you're here," Elise said, opening the door.

Three Sisters - Author's Note

2004-10-28T08:52:00.000Z

So I'm doing the 'Write A Novel In A Month' thing, just to see if I can. Of course, I'd love to get this published as well, but seeing as I'll need double to make the required number of words, I'm not too worried over whether or not a publisher will consider this to already be published.

Or at least I hope.

In any case, this is going to be written off the top of my head. No editing, few spelling changes, blah blah, so while I hope any readers I have might forgive me, I still expect criticism to be constructive. Tell me what doesn't work and why, rather than why it just sucks or bores you to tears.

Mmkay?