by Amy Ewing
Acolyte Endaria left, closing the door behind her. Leela curled up on the bed and rested her chin on her knees. The room felt even smaller with the door closed; she was not used to being so confined.
She wondered how her mothers were doing, and felt shame creep up the back of her throat. She would tell them everything one day, she vowed. She would make them understand why she was changing and breaking rules and sneaking around. She hoped they would not be disappointed in her. It had never been her intent to cause them pain. But she had come too far down this path to turn back now. She must find out what the High Priestess was doing with all those trapped Cerulean and right the wrongs her lies had caused. She must bring Sera home.
The day passed slowly. Novices brought meals for her, but Leela had no appetite and only picked at the food. A few times she would press her ear against the door, to see if there really was a novice keeping watch over her at all times. And she always heard the shuffling sound of feet or a soft hum or a whispered recitation of prayer.
The light coming in through the window grew dimmer as night fell. There were no candles or lanterns in the chamber of penitence and Leela let the darkness surround her. She would alternately pace the room or throw herself on the bed, unable to stay still for long, but with no place to truly go. It must have been past the hour of the owl but not yet the hour of the dark when there came a gentle knock on the door.
Leela was lying on her back, staring up at the window, and she sat up so quickly her head spun. No one should be visiting her and it was far past the time for any more meals. She was beginning to wonder if she had imagined it when the knock came again.
“Leela?” a quavering voice whispered.
Leela gasped and rushed to fling open the door. Standing in the hall, with a look of sheepish pride on her face, was Elorin.
9
“ELORIN! WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?” LEELA ASKED, pulling her inside and closing the door.
Elorin was a young novice, one of Leela’s circle of friends who had found her calling in a life of devotion to Mother Sun. Leela had never been very close to the girl until after Sera fell, when she began to spend more time at the temple in hopes of learning about the High Priestess’s treachery. Elorin had been an unexpected comfort, a friend when Leela wondered if she would ever be able to trust anyone again. It was Elorin who had told Leela about the secret place the High Priestess would retreat to when she wished to refresh her mind and recommit to her faith. But Leela knew the truth now. She had seen the secret place with her own eyes.
“I wanted to see you,” Elorin said. “So I asked Novice Cresha if I could watch over you tonight instead of her. Oh, Leela, is it true what they’re saying? Did you really breach the sacred circle of the birthing houses?”
“It’s true,” Leela said, and Elorin gave a tiny cry.
“But why? I hope you do not mind my saying so but . . . that sounds more like something Sera would have done.”
Leela let out a breathy laugh. “Yes,” she agreed. “It does.”
Elorin’s face was a mere outline in the pale circle of moonlight streaming through the window. “There has been a change in you since she died,” she said. Leela nodded. That, at least, was no secret. “It seems to me as if you carry a heavy burden. Yet I do not know what it is or what I can do to help. And I would very much like to help you.”
“I . . .” Leela’s heart stuttered out a painful beat. She so badly needed a friend but she was unsure if she could truly trust Elorin. Besides, if she did believe, then was Leela putting Elorin in danger too?
“They said you wanted to visit Plenna, to see her happy because you miss Sera,” Elorin said. “But I do not believe that. You were never close with Plenna. I asked myself, why would Leela break a sacred rule for a Cerulean she has no strong attachment to? And then I realized that there is a Cerulean at the birthing houses who you might break the rules to see.” Elorin leaned forward and whispered, “Sera’s purple mother.”
Leela inhaled sharply, her eyebrows shooting up her forehead. Elorin’s satisfied smile was a glint in the moonlight.
“I knew it,” she said. “But I still do not understand why. Was it merely to comfort her? There are some novices who whisper that it feels too soon for her to bear another child. Others think she must be overjoyed by the chance to have a new daughter. It is not for me to question the will of Mother Sun, but . . . I think Sera’s purple mother must be very sad. Yet I still cannot believe that you would go against such a firm rule without good reason, and comfort does not seem to be enough.”
Leela listened to her work all this out and realized that Elorin was far more perceptive than she had ever given her credit for. Sera had never liked her much because she was so pious, but Leela was beginning to see that her piety was only one facet, that the girl as a whole was someone entirely more layered—that maybe she kept things about herself secret too.
“What if,” she began hesitantly, “I told you that I did not believe it was Mother Sun who chose Kandra to be blessed to bear another child?”
Elorin blinked. “But who else could possibly do that?”
“Who indeed?” Leela held her tongue and waited; it felt like she could hear the wheels turning in Elorin’s mind. Leela knew she could not suggest the High Priestess’s name herself—it would not be as it was with Kandra, who already had a reason to distrust her. Elorin was a novice. She had chosen a life of devotion to Mother Sun and, by extension, the High Priestess herself. If she could not or would not make this connection, Leela thought, then she would know where the girl stood.
But she found herself gritting her teeth and hoping against hope that Elorin would see and believe. Because she did not want to continue down this path alone.
Elorin gasped suddenly, her hands flying to cover her mouth. “No,” she whispered. “It cannot be.” She peered at Leela over trembling fingers. “The High Priestess?”
“Yes,” Leela replied, her shoulders melting with relief.
“But . . .” Elorin moved as if in a dream to sit on the edge of the bed. “But why?”
Leela sat beside her. “That is what I am trying to discover.”
“How did you come to this conclusion? What proof do you have?”
Leela told Elorin of the conversation she had overheard between the High Priestess and Acolyte Klymthe through the hedge of the Moon Gardens, when it had become clear to Leela that the High Priestess herself had chosen Sera to be sacrificed. “I was as shocked as you are,” Leela said. “I had always trusted in the High Priestess and her wisdom and courage. But she is making decisions that Mother Sun should make. And that is not right. That is not how our City is meant to work.”
Elorin was shaking her head slowly, and for a heart-stopping moment Leela feared that the girl would reject this knowledge—that she would refuse to believe that the leader of their City was anything less than pure, that she would run to the High Priestess and reveal what Leela had told her.
“We trust in her so implicitly,” Elorin said. “But I wondered . . . first when the City did not move after Sera’s sacrifice, and then again when I became a novice. Do you remember when I told you about the secret place in the temple where the High Priestess goes to sequester herself? And that she had been going there more and more recently?”
“Yes,” Leela said. “I remember.”
“I only knew because I overheard two of the oldest novices talking about it and they seemed . . . I would not say suspicious, necessarily, but there was an edge to the discussion that made me curious. And then you began coming to the temple more often, which wasn’t something you ever used to do. It seems like since Sera fell, strange things have been happening in this City.”
Leela could not suppress her smile. “You are very perceptive, Elorin,” she said. “More than I ever realized.”
Elorin shrugged and looked down shyly. “I do not think anyone thinks much of me, or takes me very seriously. It is only because I have trouble opening up to people. It is easier to be
devoted to Mother Sun—she listens to me with a welcoming heart and a patient mind.” Her face fell. “At least, I thought she did. Perhaps she has never heard me at all.”
Leela took Elorin’s hand in both of her own. “No matter what the High Priestess may be up to, I am certain Mother Sun hears you and loves you. You need not lose faith in that.”
Elorin looked up, her eyes sparkling with her magic. “I want to help you.”
A lump swelled in Leela’s throat. “I would like that very much.”
“Tell me everything,” Elorin said. “Does Sera’s purple mother know? Was she helping you discover the High Priestess’s secrets? Is that why you stole into the birthing houses?”
“She was,” Leela said. “And I will tell you what I can, though there are some things I must show you, because even if I did tell, you would not believe me until you saw them with your own eyes.”
Elorin’s mouth formed a perfectly round O.
“But first,” Leela said, “I must explain the reason why I went to the birthing houses, because even Kandra did not believe me.” Leela didn’t have the patience to tell her all about the moonstone and the other visions. There were more important words that she needed to say out loud—and be believed.
Elorin sat up straight and her face grew solemn and serious.
Leela took a deep breath. “Sera is alive,” she said. “I have seen her. She did not die in the sacrifice. She is on the planet.”
For a long moment, Elorin said nothing. Leela’s heart was frantic in her ears. Then Elorin nodded slowly. “I believe you,” she said.
Acolyte Klymthe came for Leela the next morning as the bells rang through the City, calling all Cerulean to the temple for the conclave.
“It is time,” she said.
Leela felt a strange buzzing sensation all over her body as she followed the acolyte out of the chamber of penitence.
Sera is alive, she reminded herself as Acolyte Klymthe slid aside the door at the back of the sanctum. No matter what penance they give me . . . if I can bring her back, it will prove the High Priestess is a liar.
They emerged onto the chancel where the High Priestess and Acolytes Imima and Endaria were already standing at the pulpit. Leela’s heart jolted at the sight of the City gathered, so many eyes fixed on her beneath blue hooded robes. She saw her mothers sitting in their usual spot and her chest twinged with shame.
By the Altar of the Lost, she caught sight of Sera’s green and orange mothers, looking so small and sad without Sera or Kandra in their midst. They were holding hands, Leela saw, and there was some strong emotion pulsing in the depths of their eyes as they watched her. Leela did not think it was disgust or consternation; it looked to her like love.
“My children,” the High Priestess said, spreading her arms wide as she addressed the congregation. “We are gathered here today in the light and love of Mother Sun to determine the penance of Leela Starcatcher. For she has broken one of the most precious rules of the City and must bear responsibility for what she has done.”
On the pulpit were four blue candles of varying heights. The High Priestess turned to her acolytes, the moonstone in her circlet pale as bone.
“It is always grievous when a Cerulean defies the rules of our City, never more so when it is one who has always been so true and trustworthy. What shall her penance be, my acolytes? How can we ensure that she does not commit this transgression again?”
Leela’s spine was as straight as the trunk of a polaris tree, and she met the High Priestess’s gaze unflinching. But it was Acolyte Endaria who spoke first.
“She must fast for three days and three nights,” the acolyte said. “To purify her body for Mother Sun.”
She touched the smallest candle with one finger and a purple flame burst from its wick. Then Acolyte Imima stepped forward.
“She must beg forgiveness in front of the City and vow to never commit such an act again.” She touched the second smallest candle and a bright green flame began to burn. “So that she may take full responsibility for her actions.”
Acolyte Klymthe fixed her wide-set eyes on Leela. “She must clean the temple until the floors shine and the doors gleam and every last inch is spotless,” she said. “To prove the value of hard work and her commitment to this City.”
She touched the second tallest candle and a red flame appeared.
At last, the High Priestess moved forward. She towered over her acolytes and Leela felt a strange chill emanating from her, and her own heart went silent in her chest. She knew this was the penance that would mean the most, and be the most difficult to bear. The entire sanctum seemed to be holding its breath.
“She will relinquish her right to find her purpose in this City,” the High Priestess said, “and join the novices to live a life in service of Mother Sun. For only in devotion will she truly be able to atone for her wrongs.”
The gasps and shocked mutterings from the congregation filled the sanctum as Leela felt all the air seep out of her lungs. The room seemed to spin—she dimly noticed Acolyte Endaria’s eyes flicker to the High Priestess as if she too was surprised by this pronouncement. The High Priestess touched the tallest candle and the flame burned black.
“And so the conclave has ended,” she said. Just like that, the High Priestess had taken away her right to find her purpose, to ever become part of a triad, to choose her own fate as a Cerulean. She had taken away her home and her room, her mothers and her freedom, all in one fell swoop.
She caught sight of Koreen in the crowd, the prettiest Cerulean of Leela’s age, sitting beside Atana, another of Leela’s old friends. The two of them were whispering together, and Leela felt certain Koreen was enjoying this. She was the sort of girl who loved gossip.
She could not bear to look at her mothers. If she did, she would burst into tears. She would not give the High Priestess the satisfaction.
“It may seem as though we are requiring too much of her,” the High Priestess was saying. “But this was no small violation, my children. Imagine if there are no pregnancies because of what she has done? The sacred circle exists to protect our beloved purple mothers and ensure fertility. How will we feel as a community if that has been threatened by one Cerulean’s rash decision?”
Leela felt a shocking clarity flood her veins like ice—of course this was why the High Priestess was punishing her so. If Mother Sun was no longer deciding the chosen one, or the wedding season, or the birthing season, then things could go wrong, as they had with Sera’s sacrifice. And so if no purple mother were to become pregnant, the High Priestess would have a ready-made scapegoat right at her fingertips.
Leela cursed herself for her stupidity. She was not seeing clearly enough, only looking at what was right in front of her. The High Priestess had been lying to the City for who knew how long—she must have prepared for a time such as this. How many Cerulean were being kept beneath the City? Leela guessed at least a hundred. Her eyes flickered to the Altar of the Lost as a new thought occurred to her.
The Great Sadness. The High Priestess was the sole remaining survivor of that tragedy left. Her account was the only one that existed. What if she had lied about that too?
Leela realized with a start that the temple had gone quiet. Acolyte Endaria gave her a tiny nudge and Leela stepped forward. It was time for her to apologize for her actions.
She wasn’t sorry, not one bit, but she had learned to lie over the past weeks since Sera had fallen, and now she was grateful for that horrible skill. She caught sight of Elorin, standing with the other novices along the walls, her eyes wide, her hands clutching the front of her robe. Leela gave her the faintest hint of a smile. At least the High Priestess did not know how close they had become, or what Leela had confided in her. At least she had assigned Leela to the one place where she had a friend.
“I ask forgiveness,” Leela began, “for the wrong I have done this City . . .”
10
SHE WAS COMMANDED TO STAY IN THE CHAMBER OF PENITENCE until
the end of her fast.
She hadn’t even been allowed a moment alone with her mothers to say goodbye. Once she concluded her apology, she was swept off the chancel by Acolyte Klymthe, through the sliding door at the back of the temple.
“Your fast begins at dusk,” she said. “A final meal will be brought for you and novices will provide a bucket in the morning and evening for you to relieve yourself. You are not to leave this room for three nights and three days.” Leela’s breath quickened but she tried not to let it show. One night had been awful enough, trapped in this small room—Leela did not like the closed door, or the window too high to see out of. Acolyte Klymthe’s eyes were unyielding, like blue iron. “I should have suspected you might do something like this,” she said. “Ever since that day you came to the temple seeking answers from the High Priestess for Sera Lighthaven’s unworthiness.”
That was the day Leela had realized Kandra was the only one in the City who might believe her about the High Priestess, the day she had dismissed the possibility of confiding in any of her other friends, including Elorin.
Leela wondered if Acolyte Klymthe knew about the stalactites below the City.
But she had a part to play now—she had already made one grave mistake that had led her right into the High Priestess’s hands; she could not afford to do it again. So she bowed her head and murmured, “I am sorry, Acolyte Klymthe.”
The acolyte sniffed. “Yes. Well. Your life is Mother Sun’s now. Let us hope you will live it in her light and love.”
But when she said Mother Sun, Leela felt with a shiver that she really meant someone else. She kept her head down, sure that if she looked up, Acolyte Klymthe would see her defiance. When she heard the door close, she collapsed onto the bed and stared up at the window.
I will be patient, she vowed. It is only three days. And then I will return to the gardens beneath the City and I will see Sera’s face again.
How long could three days possibly be?
Long, Leela discovered.
