The Cerulean

by Amy Ewing

  “It’s all right, do not worry yourself. I was finished anyway.” She glanced at the altar again. Perhaps the tears were just a trick of the light. Maybe she was trying to find signs that did not exist.

  When she turned back, Elorin was looking at her strangely.

  “I have not seen you here alone before.”

  “I wished to feel close to Mother Sun for a while, that is all.”

  Elorin turned her gaze to the ceiling. “Do you remember how Sera always said she felt closest to Mother Sun when she was at the top of the temple’s spire?”

  “I do,” Leela said. “I am surprised you remember that.”

  “I think I was a little jealous of her,” Elorin said shyly. “She did not seem to worry about saying whatever came into her head. She did not care what others thought about her.”

  “She did, sometimes,” Leela said. “But never for very long.”

  Elorin allowed a small smile at that. “All the girls thought me quite pious and boring. But the truth is, I always knew I would be a novice. I like the temple; it feels like home here. I like sleeping in the dormitory with the other novices, and tending to the Moon Gardens, and singing to Mother Sun in the mornings. And if Sera felt at home at the top of the spire, why should she not climb it? We all have our quirks, I think. Even my mo—even Jandess and Kilia and Reinin.” Elorin stumbled over her mothers’ true names. “Even the High Priestess,” she added quickly, as if to gloss over her almost-mistake.

  The skin on Leela’s arms prickled. “Oh?” she said, trying to sound casual. “Does she climb to the top of the spire as well?”

  Elorin laughed. “No, nothing like that. But there is a secret place in the temple she will go to when she sequesters herself, and she has been there much recently. Only the acolytes know it. Novice Belladon told me it is impossible to find. It is the place where she can refresh her mind and recommit to her faith.” Her gaze drifted to the altar. “She has led us with such devotion, and for so long. We are very lucky to have her.”

  Leela clenched her jaw. But she saw an opportunity in Elorin, perhaps a way to visit parts of the temple she had never been to before. She must try to find this secret place Elorin spoke of.

  “Would you show me the dormitory?” Leela asked. “I would very much like to see where you are living now.”

  Elorin looked delighted. “Why, of course!” She led Leela outside, taking her around to the back of the temple, to a plain wooden door with a brass handle. She opened it, revealing a set of sunglass steps leading down into a pale silver light.

  The dormitory was a large circular room that Leela guessed was directly underneath the main sanctuary of the temple. Lanterns hung from the walls at even intervals, extinguished now in daytime. Neatly made beds filled the space, with little nightstands beside them littered with various personal belongings. Elorin led Leela to her own bed. A pretty golden comb, a vase with a single moonflower inside it, and a ring in the shape of the many-pointed star set with a large red stargem lay on her nightstand.

  “I sleep between Novice Cresha and Novice Baalin,” she was saying. “Cresha is very nice, but Baalin snores. Sometimes it is like sleeping beside a seresheep.”

  Elorin giggled at her own jest. How Leela envied her in this moment, the simplicity of her life, and steadiness of her purpose.

  “And what of the acolytes?” she asked, because surely whatever secrets the High Priestess kept, they would not be found in the novice dormitory. “Where do they sleep?”

  “Oh, they have rooms higher up in the temple,” Elorin said. “We novices are not allowed inside them; they are private. Except for a few of the very old novices who are tasked with ensuring their cleanliness from time to time.” She frowned. “Now that I think of it, I have never heard where the High Priestess sleeps. No one has ever spoken of it.”

  “Perhaps she sleeps in the secret spot you mentioned.”

  “No, I do not think so . . . but I suppose I do not rightfully know.”

  “Or maybe she does not sleep at all,” Leela mused, thinking nothing would surprise her anymore.

  Elorin grinned. “Now that would make her truly exceptional.”

  They left the dormitory and wandered through the Moon Gardens, passing some novices pruning rosebushes and an orange mother leaving an offering at the foot of Aila’s statue. She nodded to them as she left.

  “Many orange mothers have come to pray for a birthing season to begin,” Elorin whispered.

  “Yes, I saw Heena earlier when I arrived,” Leela said. Aila’s moonstone statue gleamed iridescent white, shot through with tendrils of color that chased each other like minnows, vanishing and reappearing. Aila was frozen with her arms raised to the sky, a smile etched across her face, her long hair wild about her as if caught in a cheerful breeze. Already a small pile of offerings, garlands of flowers and plates of food, were gathering at her feet. And Leela knew with a heavy certainty that there would be a birthing season soon, but not because Mother Sun willed it so. It would be a continuing distraction, one designed to keep all Cerulean thoughts away from Sera and the failed ceremony.

  “These statues require very special care. Only the acolytes tend to them. Acolyte Endaria told me there used to be much more moonstone in the City before the Great Sadness.”

  “Yes, my green mother told me that too,” Leela said, only half listening.

  “Acolyte Endaria says moonstone is like the beating heart of the City. Or it was. Now these statues are the only pieces left. Well, these and the obelisk at the birthing houses. And the stone in the High Priestess’s circlet, of course. Acolyte Endaria said there used to be a fountain in the Night Gardens made of moonstone as well, but it was broken into pieces many centuries ago.”

  Leela had perked up at the mention of the obelisk. “I did not know that,” she said. “Why?”

  “It was during a time when the sleeping sickness came,” Elorin said. “She said the Cerulean hoped the moonstone would protect them from the disease, and since there was no new moonstone appearing in the City anymore, they took the fountain apart. It didn’t work, though.”

  “My green mother told me moonstone was rare because it was formed from the tears of the Moon Daughters themselves,” Leela said.

  “My green mother said it was once used by Cerulean to communicate on the planets, back in the days when we would visit them,” Elorin said.

  “Oh?” Leela had never heard that explanation before.

  “To be honest, I think she was making that up. I do not think any of our green mothers really knew what it was for. It is beyond ancient.”

  Just like the High Priestess, Leela thought. Perhaps they both hold secrets.

  Kandra could not explain why Estelle had appeared where she did, in the Forest of Dawn by the birthing houses. Maybe it was not the forest or the houses that were significant. Maybe it was the obelisk of moonstone.

  Though she could not fully explain why, she felt a sudden rush of gratitude that she had given Sera her necklace.

  “Leela?” Elorin’s face was creased with concern. “Are you all right?”

  “I . . . yes. Forgive me. I was thinking of Sera, that is all.” She was happy that she didn’t have to truly lie this time.

  “Of course.” Elorin gazed at Aila’s joyful expression. “She does remind me a bit of Sera, if I think about it. Untamed, you know?”

  Leela opened her mouth but could not find the words to say all that she was feeling in this moment. Delicate chimes began to ring from inside the temple.

  “I must go,” Elorin said. “You will come back and visit me, won’t you?”

  “I will,” Leela said, and she meant it. Elorin kissed her cheek, then scampered off to the temple. Leela gazed up at its golden spire and wondered where the High Priestess was now, and what she was planning. The gardens fell silent around her, and Leela lost all sense of time, her mind churning, until she realized the sun was close to setting. She raised herself and was about to leave when she heard a familiar s
ound, a laugh she would know anywhere. Sera’s voice seemed to emanate from the statue of Aila herself, and it sounded to Leela like she was laughing and crying at the same time, as if she had experienced something joyful yet heartrending. Leela took a step forward, barely able to control the wild hope rising inside her.

  “Sera?” she whispered. But the laugh was already fading away, vanishing into the rustle of the wind and the chirping of sparrows in the rosebushes.

  Leela stood before Aila for a long while, waiting, watching, listening, until she finally had to accept that she had imagined it. Sera wasn’t feeling joy or heartbreak, she wasn’t laughing or crying or both. She wasn’t anything anymore.

  Another orange mother arrived with offerings, and Leela left the gardens and trudged back to her dwelling, feeling no closer to answers, but holding the sound of Sera’s laughter close in her heart.

  28

  SERA’S LAUGH WAS STILL RINGING IN HER EARS WHEN SHE met Kandra by the birthing houses the next evening, at Leela’s request. This time, Leela arrived first, carrying her own lantern, and waited by the obelisk.

  “I am glad you asked to meet,” Kandra said as she approached. “I have found something that may be connected to the mystery we seek to unravel.”

  “What is it?” Leela asked eagerly.

  “I was speaking to Magdeena in the orchards this morning—she was my purple mother,” Kandra explained. “I asked if she could remember another time the sleeping sickness fell upon the City, before the bout that took Estelle. She said there was one period right before I was born. She was pregnant with me, and my other mothers were fearful of losing both a wife and a daughter. I wonder if the sleeping sickness is somehow related to the birthing seasons.”

  “But how?”

  “That I do not know.” Kandra looked worried. “But I fear there will be another birthing season soon. If only to serve as another distraction.”

  “I was thinking the same,” Leela said. “Though no one has fallen ill yet.”

  “Yet,” Kandra murmured.

  “I have news too,” Leela said. “I saw my friend Elorin at the temple yesterday—she is a newly blessed novice, and she told me of a secret place that the High Priestess disappears to. But she does not know where it is—only the acolytes know, she said, and I do not think it would be wise to ask after it.”

  “A secret place?” Kandra raised an eyebrow. “No, that information is best kept to ourselves, I agree. It must be in the temple somewhere. . . .”

  “She spoke of moonstone as well,” Leela continued, “as we stood before Aila’s statue. Did you know there was once a fountain made of moonstone in the Night Gardens?”

  “I did not.” Kandra frowned. “Who told her that?”

  “Acolyte Endaria. She said the Cerulean broke it into pieces during a bout of sleeping sickness, centuries ago, thinking perhaps it could protect them from the disease. But it didn’t.”

  “Moonstone is a very powerful material—it possesses its own magic, or so my green mother told me.” Kandra gestured to the obelisk. “She thought it was related to the tether, somehow.” Her face was half-shrouded in darkness, but Leela was happy to see her eyes glowing faintly blue, her strength coming back to her. “I’ve discovered over the years that not every green mother tells exactly the same tales. I’m sure you must have noticed this too—they learn from their own green mothers, as we all do, and so the stories shift subtly from telling to telling. Seetha tried hard with Sera, because she had so many questions, to be as specific as possible. She even asked the High Priestess for advice and answers on occasion.” Kandra grimaced. “Now I cannot help but wonder if that was an influence on Sera being chosen. Had she asked the wrong question?”

  Leela could not bear to think that Sera was somehow to blame for her own death.

  “I was wondering . . . what if it is not the forest that holds the key to where Estelle is hidden,” she said. “What if it is the moonstone?”

  Kandra looked the obelisk up and down. “You think she is inside it?”

  “I am not sure what to think. Only that we cannot answer why she appeared here when she was supposed to be dead, but we know moonstone is sacred and possesses some kind of magic. So the two could be related.”

  Kandra began to circle the obelisk, and Leela followed. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to find. It looked the same as it always had. Leela placed her lantern on the ground, thinking perhaps there was something that could not be seen but felt. As she brushed her fingertips across the base of the stone, she gasped—a faint breath of icy air was wafting up from the ground beneath it.

  “Can you feel that?” she said, and Kandra reached out, her fingers skimming the grass.

  “Where is that air coming from?”

  “It’s like it’s coming up from the ground,” Leela said. “But that can’t be. . . .”

  Kandra was already on her feet, pushing against the stone. “She might be underneath it,” she said, “not inside. Leela, help me.”

  As soon as Leela placed her hands on the polished cold surface, she felt a crackle run through her fingers and up her wrists into her arms, her magic reacting in a way that she’d never felt before. Her knees buckled as a vision came upon her, an entirely unfamiliar place swimming before her eyes—it was a large, dark room, lit by flowers that glowed in purple and pink and orange. There was a tree with silvery white bark and turquoise leaves, and red curtains hung on either side of the flowers. She could not see the ceiling—above was only darkness. She pulled her hands away as if she’d been burned, and the vision faded.

  “What is it?” Kandra asked. Leela did not know how to answer. She had no idea what or where that place was, but her magic was sizzling and pulsing as if begging for the vision to return. There was a faint blue glow in all ten of her fingers.

  When she looked back up at the obelisk, markings had appeared in a narrow line down its trunk, markings that Leela could not read but felt she understood anyway—like a signpost, pointing the way to something.

  Show me, she thought, or perhaps her magic thought it, for it spun and swirled around her heart.

  With a faint groan, the obelisk slid to one side, and Kandra let out a shocked cry, her hands flying to her mouth. The next second she and Leela were peering down into a large square space carved into the earth, a chill emanating from its depths.

  A set of sunglass stairs led down into the darkness. In the light of the lantern, Leela could see that the stairs had been sealed off four steps down, a smooth pane of sunglass blocking wherever they led to.

  Kandra climbed down the steps and pressed her hands against the sunglass barrier. “Estelle?” she called softly. “Estelle, it’s Kandra.”

  They waited for what felt like ages, but only the hum of insects and the scurrying of nocturnal creatures answered them.

  “Where do you think it goes?” Leela whispered.

  But Kandra had turned to stare at her with wonder in her pale blue eyes. “How did the obelisk move?”

  “I . . . read the markings,” Leela said. “I asked it to show me.”

  Kandra looked from Leela to the stone and back to Leela again. “What markings?”

  Leela was about to point them out when she saw they had vanished. She sat back hard. “They were right there,” she said, bemused. “I saw them. They were right there.”

  Kandra climbed back up the steps, shaking her head slowly. “Something is happening,” she said. “A change. Can you feel it?”

  Leela did not know what to say—she was feeling altogether too many things to pinpoint any one in particular. “I saw something,” she said, and described the vision of that strange room to Kandra. “I don’t know what it means. I have never seen any place like it.”

  Kandra looked at her in a way she had never been looked at before, and it took Leela a second to work out what the difference was. She was seeing Leela not as a child but as an equal.

  “Can you put it back?” she asked.

  “What?
”

  “The obelisk.”

  Can I? Leela thought, and it was as if her magic had been waiting for her to ask. Her palms began to glow, markings once again appearing on the smooth white surface of the stone.

  No one must know you have opened, Leela thought, and the obelisk seemed only too happy to oblige her, sliding back into place, covering the stairs and wherever they led to.

  “Mother Sun,” Kandra murmured. She turned to Leela. “Did you see anything that time? Another vision?”

  Leela shook her head.

  Kandra stood and helped her to her feet. “Sera. The tether. Moonstone. These stairs. Estelle. There is still some connection we cannot see. But by the grace of Mother Sun, Leela,” she said, taking her in her arms and holding her tightly, “I am so grateful we have each other.”

  The vision she’d had, plus moving the moonstone, were weighing so heavily on Leela’s mind the next day, she realized she had not heard a word Elorin had been saying.

  “I am so sorry,” she said, as she followed Elorin out of the temple. “I did not mean to be distracted. Tell me, what has gotten you so excited?”

  For Elorin was flushed and smiling, practically bouncing as she and Leela entered the Moon Gardens. Leela could not help eyeing each of the statues as they passed, first Dendra with her solemn face bent in prayer, then Aila and her joyful smile, and finally Faesa, her cupped hands outstretched as if holding the wisdom of all green mothers in her palms. Leela kept waiting for symbols to appear on them, but as of yet, they remained the same as they had always been. She wondered if she would see that place with the flowers and the tree again, if she touched one of them. Her magic seemed to sparkle at the thought.

  “My first Night of Song is fast approaching!” Elorin said. “I have been practicing the songs all day.”

  The Night of Song was a monthly tradition in which the novices roamed through the City for a full night, carrying candles and singing. It was an ancient ritual, one that stemmed from the days when the City had just been created, a time of darkness before the first tether was formed.