The Alcazar

by Amy Ewing

  “You will wait here for me,” her purple mother said, and Leela nodded. But as soon as her mother was out of sight through the trees, Leela began to follow the line of stones. Even if she had not been so familiar with this part of the forest already, the voices that grew louder were a beacon calling to her. Finally she stopped. She could not see the houses but she knew where she needed to go. And she would not be afraid of breaking the rules anymore. If the High Priestess could lie, and sacrifice Sera, and trap Cerulean in stalactites, then surely Mother Sun would forgive Leela for this infraction.

  She took a breath and stepped over the line. When nothing happened except a sparrow singing loudly in a nearby birch, Leela let out a light-headed giggle. She was not sure what she had expected—a lightning bolt, perhaps, or a sun flare? She marched forward, feeling braver than she ever had, or maybe simply accepting her bravery in a way she hadn’t before.

  But being brave did not mean being rash, and she slowed her pace when the first domed house came into view, flitting from tree to tree to stay hidden.

  The birthing houses looked the same as they had yesterday, rounded one-room dwellings made of sunglass, but the clearing with the moonstone obelisk was changed. Garlands of flowers had been strung from its tip to the doors of each house, daisy chains and ropes of fire lilies and strings of silvery moonflowers. Bouquets of forget-me-nots and tulips and chrysanthemum were piled high around its base. Tables had been set up on the grass and Leela saw Treena and a few of the older midwives stitching together a canopy to prop over them. There were a handful of purple mothers bringing food, and Leela caught sight of her own mother talking with Plenna. Of Kandra, however, she saw no sign.

  Quick as a sunlizard, she darted to hide behind another tree, then another, letting her intuition guide her. She found Kandra sitting at the foot of an old spruce between two houses, her head leaning against its trunk, a length of blue seresheep wool in her hands. It looked as though she had been trying to sew something and given up halfway through.

  “Kandra,” Leela hissed. Kandra did not seem to hear her; her eyes were as dark and vacant as they had been in the days after Sera’s sacrifice. “Kandra,” Leela tried again, as loud as she dared.

  Kandra started and looked around. When she caught sight of Leela she gasped and hurried to join her.

  “Leela, I told you—” she began, but Leela had no time to spare for a scolding.

  “I know, I know, I came with my purple mother and I must get back to the spot where I was told to wait for her. But I went to the Moon Gardens last night. I found a set of stairs beneath the statue of Faesa. Stairs that were not blocked by sunglass as the ones beneath the obelisk were.” She gripped Kandra’s hands in her own. “I went below the City and found what the High Priestess has been hiding.”

  Kandra’s eyes widened. “Tell me everything,” she said. “And quickly.”

  The story poured out of Leela and when she got to the part about discovering Estelle, Kandra made a sound that was half cry, half gasp.

  “Estelle?” she choked. “She’s still alive?”

  Leela nodded. “I don’t know what the High Priestess is doing with her, though. And there were so many others trapped just like her. The High Priestess was feeding them golden fruit that grows among the vines surrounding the tether. And then she held her hands out and all the stalactites began to glow and the ground shook and the tether . . . the tether . . .”

  Leela could not find the words to describe its brilliance or the way the High Priestess’s face had contorted in silent agony.

  “I wish I could see it,” Kandra said.

  “So do I,” Leela said. “But that is not all.” She took a breath. “I saw Sera.”

  Kandra blinked. “In a stalactite?”

  “No. I saw her in a vision, like the other ones I’ve had, only this was the clearest one yet. She is on the planet, Kandra. She is alive.”

  Kandra jerked her hands away. Leela was surprised to see her mouth set in a hard line.

  “That is not a funny jest.”

  Leela frowned. “It is no jest at all. I saw her. It was real.”

  “You don’t know that,” Kandra said. “You don’t know what these visions are. You said so yourself. They could be lies or tricks. They could be some dark magic of the High Priestess. She was able to take my memories of Estelle away; who is to say she cannot implant memories as well? You don’t know, Leela.”

  “But I do.” This was not at all the reaction Leela had been expecting. “I mean, I didn’t before, but I do now. It was no trick or spell. I felt Sera’s heart beating in my chest as if we were blood bonding. It is a heartbeat I would know anywhere. Besides, the High Priestess did not even know I was there. Sera has my moonstone and I think it saved her. I’ve been seeing her through it, or . . . or it’s connected us in some way. But those other visions were from the planet too, I’m sure of it. She’s down there, Kandra. And I’m going to find a way to bring her home.”

  “Stop.” Kandra’s voice was sharp as ice breaking and she stepped back as if frightened of Leela. “Please,” she whispered. “Don’t . . . she is gone. She is gone and I must bear a new daughter and you cannot come here and tell me otherwise. You cannot give me false hope.”

  Leela felt a sharp twinge of anger. “There is nothing false about it,” she said. Why did Kandra not believe her?

  “Kandra!” one of the midwives called, and the two of them jumped.

  “I must go,” Kandra said, turning away. “Do not come back.”

  Leela felt empty as she watched her only confidant hurry toward the flower-strewn field to join the other purple mothers. This was not how she had imagined the conversation would go. She’d thought Kandra would be overjoyed. She’d thought she was bringing good news, not sadness and heartbreak.

  “I’ll find a way to show her,” Leela muttered aloud to herself. “I’ll prove that Sera is still alive.”

  She would return to the City’s underbelly and learn all she could about that underground garden and the clear pools and the stalactites and what it all meant. If Kandra could not help her now, Leela would do this on her own. The weight of it threatened to crush her but she was determined to shoulder it.

  She turned to make her way back across the stones to the path and abruptly found herself face-to-face with the last person she wished to see.

  “Leela,” the High Priestess said, gazing down from her impressive height with a mixture of confusion and horror. “What in the name of Mother Sun do you think you are doing here?”

  8

  LEELA’S HEART POUNDED IN HER EARS, HER FEET GROWN into the ground like roots.

  “It is forbidden to cross the sacred circle once the birthing season has begun,” the High Priestess said, and Leela nodded mutely. Had the High Priestess overheard any of her conversation with Kandra?

  She folded her hands together and fixed Leela with a hard stare. “Please explain yourself.”

  “I wished to see how Plenna was doing,” Leela said quickly. “My purple mother brought me along with her to deliver food and made me promise to wait at the path. But I . . . I did not listen. I thought if I could see Plenna happy, it would help heal some of the pain of Sera’s loss.” She looked down in case the High Priestess could read the lie in her eyes. “My heart still grieves for her.”

  “Of course it does, my child. But grief is no excuse for breaking such an important rule.” The High Priestess placed a hand on Leela’s shoulder, her skin hot through Leela’s cloudspun dress. She’d never been touched by the High Priestess before, and Leela felt her magic jerk inside her, as if she had just touched a burning stove with bare fingers. “I am afraid a conclave must be called. And a penance must be decided.”

  Leela could only vaguely remember the last conclave, when she was just a little girl, called to deal with a Cerulean who had refused to aid in preparations for the Festival of Light, one of the three major Cerulean holidays. The woman had been old, Leela recalled, and lonely. She had lost both
her wives and had retreated from Cerulean life. Leela remembered feeling both sad for her and frightened of her, as her penance was announced in front of the entire temple. She was tasked with preparing for the festival all on her own. And she had done it, to the City’s great surprise.

  She had died a month later. Leela felt ashamed that she could no longer remember the woman’s name.

  “Come,” the High Priestess said. “We must tell your purple mother what has happened.”

  The look on her mother’s face when she was told that Leela had disobeyed her made Leela want to slink under a rock. The other purple mothers and midwives had gathered in shock, listening to the High Priestess recount Leela’s breach of faith and announce the conclave. Leela felt she could see her own purple mother’s heart breaking at the thought of her daughter receiving the harshest Cerulean reprimand possible.

  There was only one face missing among the crowd—Kandra’s.

  Leela was not allowed to accompany her purple mother home. She was not allowed to go home at all. She was marched by the High Priestess straight to the temple. The walk was long and peppered with gardens and dwellings so that Leela had to watch the news of her shame spread throughout the City. All the bravery she’d felt earlier evaporated, leaving her flat and lifeless. She did not know what her penance would be, but she was certain it would not leave her free to roam about the City any longer, even in the dead of night. How was she to get back to the stairs beneath the Moon Gardens? How was she supposed to see Sera again?

  She cursed herself for being so reckless. But as they made their way across Faesa’s Bridge, Leela felt her resolve harden. Whatever this penance was, it couldn’t last forever. She would pay the price and she would return to finding a way to get Sera home.

  They skirted the hedge that surrounded the Moon Gardens, novices inclining their heads as the High Priestess passed, then shooting Leela curious looks.

  The High Priestess had not spoken a single word to Leela throughout the entire walk, and while Leela was beginning to feel the weight of the silence, the High Priestess herself did not seem to notice. She moved so gracefully she appeared to glide, her face set in an expressionless mask, and Leela could feel the heat of her body radiating through her long robe. The moonstone in the High Priestess’s circlet gleamed in the sunlight and Leela was possessed with the sudden urge to pull the circlet from her head and pry the stone from its setting. She wondered if maybe there were more answers in that stone than in any of the statues in the Moon Gardens.

  Leela felt weary as they approached the doors to the temple, her feet dragging, her head bowed. This morning, the world had seemed full of possibilities, but now everything had changed again. The freedom she had taken for granted was gone. She would be watched. Wherever she went, she would be seen as the young Cerulean who’d broken the rules.

  But even worse—she had lied to her mothers and she had been caught. She had disappointed them, and Leela’s stomach pinched with the shame of it.

  Just then the sun lit on the temple’s golden spire, a blinding flash of brilliant yellow that vanished as quickly as it had come. The High Priestess was still climbing the temple steps, but Leela’s own legs had turned to stone.

  She stared at the copper doors, where the markings of Mother Sun were etched in ever-changing, indecipherable symbols. Only they weren’t indecipherable any longer.

  Heal them.

  Two simple words written over and over and over.

  “Leela?” The High Priestess stood at the top of the stairs, staring down at her. “I know you are frightened, but this must be done. There are consequences to every action.”

  “What do the doors say?” Leela blurted without thinking.

  The High Priestess froze for only half a second, but in that brief moment Leela sensed uncertainty and a hint of what might have been fear.

  “That is no concern of yours,” she replied tartly. “The symbols of Mother Sun are meant for the High Priestess alone to decipher and share with the City as she will.”

  She can’t read them. The thought came wild and unbidden to Leela’s mind, and once there, she knew she was right. Another lie uncovered—for it was true, everyone in the City thought the symbols were meant only for the High Priestess to read. But who had told them that? The High Priestess herself. Leela did not know why or how she could understand the symbols all of a sudden, but she knew they were no hallucination. It took a great amount of effort to lower her head and trudge up the stairs. She could not afford to look upon the doors again, could not give any indication to the High Priestess that she’d been able to read them.

  What is happening to me? They entered the sanctum, its ceiling painted with the sun and three moons and countless stars. There was a large smattering of orange mothers present and Leela was surprised to see Sera’s among them. Though she shouldn’t have been—of course her orange mother would be praying now that Kandra had been sent to the birthing houses. Orange mothers were teachers of devotion in the Cerulean family unit, and prayer was an important part of their lives, especially prayer for a new daughter. Most of the orange mothers were praying together but Sera’s sat apart from the others, on a cushion alone in front of the Altar of the Lost: a giant sun crafted out of sungold and moonsilver and studded with dark blue stargems, one for each Cerulean lost in the Great Sadness.

  The Great Sadness was the worst tragedy in all of Cerulean history, when two hundred Cerulean had been massacred on the last planet they had been tethered to, nearly nine hundred years ago. That was when the High Priestess had ascended to her role—the previous High Priestess, Luille, had died on the planet. The Great Sadness was why Cerulean were not allowed to go down onto planets at all anymore. It was too dangerous, the High Priestess said. But Sera was on the planet now, and while she had seemed anxious and sad, Leela did not have the sense she was in danger. The lies were piling up and making her head hurt.

  Leela had the strongest urge to run to Sera’s orange mother, to tell her everything and see if maybe she would believe her daughter was alive when Kandra would not. But she could only follow the High Priestess as she crossed the room in sweeping strides, novices and orange mothers scattering in her wake. Acolyte Endaria was hurrying across the chancel, the look on her face leaving Leela in no doubt that the news had already reached her.

  “Her purple mother has been informed,” the High Priestess said without preamble. “Send Novices Belladon and Loonir to her dwelling to tell her other mothers.”

  Acolyte Endaria pressed a hand to her chest and looked at Leela with confusion and pity. “Why would you break such a sacred rule, my child?” she asked.

  Leela tried to appear contrite. “I . . .”

  “She is young, Endaria,” the High Priestess said, sweet sympathy in her voice, but it was too honeyed for Leela’s liking. “And still grieving the loss of her friend. You remember how it was to be young and curious and sad.”

  Leela could not picture Acolyte Endaria as ever being any of those things, but the acolyte nodded fervently.

  “Imima has prepared the chamber of penitence,” she said.

  “Excellent. The conclave will convene tomorrow at the hour of the serpent.”

  “Yes, High Priestess,” Acolyte Endaria said, bowing her head.

  The High Priestess turned to Leela and fixed her with a gaze so penetrating, Leela felt as if her skin was being peeled off. She forced herself to remain still, to take courage in the memory of Sera’s heartbeat and the knowledge that her friend was out there and needed her, refusing in this moment to show either true fear or fake humility. The High Priestess had lies on her side—Leela had love and truth. She could feel her love for Sera shimmering in every facet of her blood. For one thrilling, weightless moment, Leela had the sense that the High Priestess was afraid of her.

  Then the High Priestess’s lips twitched as if she wanted to smile and Leela felt her heart crumble into a pile of hot ashes.

  “We all make mistakes, Leela,” she said. “We all c
hallenge authority in some way when we are young. Do not despair. You will grow from this lesson and become an even better Cerulean than you were before. I am certain of it.”

  “You will,” Acolyte Endaria echoed. “Now come with me. I will take you to the chamber of penitence, where you shall stay the night.”

  The High Priestess gestured for Leela to walk the stairs that led to the chancel. Leela had never seen the room from this vantage point before—it spread out before her, endless yet also close, as if she could reach her arms out and wrap them around the entire space. The pulpit was made of nebula tree wood, silver as the moon and studded with crystal-clear stargems. Leela had never seen behind it; a single shelf lined its insides, empty now, but Leela guessed it would hold the sacred bowls the High Priestess would use for various ceremonies.

  Acolyte Endaria led her to a space at the very back of the chancel that Leela had always thought was just wall but slid aside to reveal a narrow hallway curving along the outer edge of the temple. The walls glowed, lighting their way, and Leela followed the acolyte to a small room with yet another door. The only doors Leela had ever seen were the ones on the temple and those on the birthing houses, both made of copper. The door Acolyte Endaria opened was made of soft gray wood and inlaid with lacquered golden polaris leaves.

  The room was round, simply furnished with a bed and gossamer blanket, and a dresser with a basin and pitcher. A lone, circular window was set in the wall too high above the bed for Leela to see out of.

  “Novices will be stationed outside, to bring your meals and see to your needs,” Acolyte Endaria said, but Leela knew that what she really meant was, “You are not allowed to leave this room.”

  “Yes, Acolyte,” she said. It was only for one night, though Leela hated any amount of time that took her away from the world beneath the City, from the cone of moonstone that had shown her Sera’s face.

  And she had never once slept anywhere but in her own bed in her own dwelling.