Free The Forgotten Sisters by Shannon Hale Page A

fast enough to slip away with one parcel.”
    â€œAnd how will we do that?” asked Astrid.
    â€œWe’ll need a plan, Sus,” said Miri.
    â€œMe?” said Sus, her serious expression opened in surprise.
    â€œWhy Sus?” Astrid asked Miri.
    â€œWhen the caiman attacked, Sus was the one telling us the plan,” said Miri. “She’s got a mind for strategy. You were the leader and chief actor. Felissa was the support and conflict resolver.”
    â€œCaimans are one thing,” Sus said. “I don’t know anything about bandits.”
    â€œEverything connects,” said Miri. “Gunpowder was discovered first by circus performers and later adapted for muskets. Engineers learned skills from musket makers that improved things like bridges and locks. The more we know about everything, the easier we can make connections between one subject and another. What you know of caiman hunting might make you good bandits.”
    And maybe
, she thought,
good bandits can become good princesses
.
    â€œSus is the planner, Felissa the support, and I’m the leader,” said Astrid. “So what are you?”
    â€œMe?” said Miri. “I’m your tutor.”
    They walked the forest path, scoping out the best ambush spots. Miri offered a general idea of what they could do.
    â€œA diversion, and then someone swoops in fast to free the mail bag.”
    â€œI could do it. I’m fast,” said Sus.
    â€œYou are not,” said Astrid.
    â€œI’m like the striking snake,” Sus said, her face deadly earnest. “I’m a diving kestrel.”
    â€œI’m faster than you, froglet,” said Astrid. “And I’m the oldest. If anyone’s going to risk her neck, it’ll be me.”
    The sisters debated this point the whole way back home. Miri kept silent. The more Astrid argued in favor of her banditry talents, the more she committed to the scheme. Miri yearned to chew up Jeffers and those traders so badly her jaw ached.
    At the house, Miri stood at the threshold till one of them officially invited her in. It was Sus this time.
    â€œI … uh … I’ll need to teach you to read, just a little,” said Miri. “If anything goes wrong with the plan, all of us should be prepared to get to the mail and read what’s written on the envelopes.”
    Astrid raised one eyebrow. “Is this whole bandit thing just a trick to get us to read?”
    Beginning that very day, Sus began spending as many hours with Miri as hunting allowed, learning the letters and the sounds they made. Sometimes Astrid and Felissa sat by too. While out hunting, they practiced writing their names in mud with a stick. They memorized the letters of one another’s names, and of their mother’s and Miri’s. If the traders did have a letter from the palace, there was no telling whose name it would bear.
    â€œWhy do you care so much about teaching us to read anyway?” Astrid asked.
    â€œThree years ago I didn’t know how,” said Miri. “But once I did, I learned things that made life on our mountain a lot better. Reading a book is like going on a great journey. You don’t know what’ll happen, but something is bound to change. And for me, that change has always been good.”
    Miri managed to sneak in other lessons besides reading. She told them about great historical battles under the pretense that the knowledge could help with strategy. She instructed them on Aslandian culture and social structure, because, she said, “Understanding how city folk like the traders think can only help.”
    The morning of trading day, they ate the rest of last night’s supper, which had been simmering over the fire. It tasted like smoke and mud. Astrid filled their precious waterskin from the rain barrel and gave it to Felissa, who went ahead to watch from deep in the woods where the road was straightest.
    The traders likely