The Alcazar

by Amy Ewing

  Each hour felt like a day within itself. The room seemed to grow smaller with every passing minute. Leela’s stomach shrank and twisted and ached. She was allowed water, and those moments when a novice would deliver her a pitcher or bring the bucket for her to relieve herself became the highlight of her days. It was always one of the older novices, Belladon or Cresha or Baalin. She did not see Elorin again.

  She thought of Sera, of where she was now and where she might be headed. If she was on a ship, she was likely on the sea between Pelago and Kaolin, but which country she was coming from and which she was going to Leela could not say. She tried to remember all she knew of the planet, but that had been Sera’s fascination, not hers. She guiltily admitted to herself that she had never paid much attention when Sera spoke of the planet. She sifted through her recollections of the lessons her green mother had given her about it—she knew that family units were different there, with males and fathers and all that. And she knew that they worshipped different gods, not Mother Sun, though what sort she could not say. But she was hopeful that Mother Sun was watching over Sera, that she could see her even on the planet, so far away from the City.

  She mulled over what Elorin had said, when she had wondered if Mother Sun even heard her prayers at all now that she knew of the High Priestess’s deceptions. But Leela remembered the way the symbols on the doors to the temple had suddenly made sense—it was Mother Sun speaking to her, she was sure of it. Though if she could read them, then why not all other Cerulean? Perhaps it was a matter of awareness—Leela was seeing through the lies now, and so it was as if a veil had been lifted. Perhaps the High Priestess had cast some sort of spell over the entire City, the way she had taken Kandra’s memory of Estelle away. And because the City believed only the High Priestess could read the symbols, then that was all they saw, a jumble of markings.

  But it seemed to Leela as if Mother Sun was far away, farther than she ought to be. It was like trying to shout to someone who was in the Day Gardens from the top of the temple; there might be the faintest trace of a voice on the wind, but not enough to hear exact words. Else why had she not already righted this wrong and exposed the High Priestess herself? Leela felt as if perhaps Mother Sun had been lost somehow, as if she had been searching for the City Above the Sky and was only just now beginning to find it.

  At long last, dusk of the third day of her fast arrived, and Acolyte Endaria came for her with a tray of broth and an onion roll sprinkled with poppy seeds. Leela’s stomach roared at the scent of it.

  “Eat slowly,” Acolyte Endaria said as Leela gripped the bowl in trembling hands and slurped the broth. “It will be hard on your stomach after so many days.”

  Leela was so famished she thought she could eat an entire wedding feast, but she found she could only nibble on the bread once she’d finished the broth.

  “Come,” Acolyte Endaria said, standing. “I will show you to your bed.”

  Leela followed obediently, and had to shield her eyes at the light of the setting sun when they emerged from the temple—she had become too accustomed to the dimness of the chamber of penitence. The Moon Gardens were so radiant that Leela felt tears prick the corners of her eyes. They passed Aila’s statue, her laughing face turned upward toward the stars, and Leela wanted to throw her arms around the moonstone and cry with joy that she was finally outside again. The rich smells of grass and earth and flowers filled her nose. She felt so light she could fly.

  Acolyte Endaria led her to where the novices’ dormitory was, taking her down the steps to the large circular room beneath the temple. She had come here once before with Elorin, and she saw the novice’s bed now, her nightstand laid with a golden comb and stargem ring. The vase, which had previously contained a moonflower, now held a pale blue rose. But Acolyte Endaria directed her to the opposite side of the room.

  “This is where you will sleep,” she said. A novice robe was folded neatly at the end of her new bed. “You may bathe in the Estuary this evening if you wish. Tomorrow you must begin your work cleaning the temple.”

  Leela picked up the robe with hesitant fingers. “M-may I see my mothers?” she stammered. “I did not get to say goodbye to them.”

  Acolyte Endaria hesitated. “I do not think that is allowed.”

  A solitary tear spilled down her cheek and Leela brushed it away. “All right,” she said. She had to be strong now. She was no longer a child and her mothers could not help her.

  But she missed them terribly anyway.

  Acolyte Endaria’s face was creased with pity. She was the youngest of the three acolytes, with a heart-shaped face and very long eyelashes. “But of course, this was all so sudden. I am sure it would be all right for you to see them this evening once you’ve bathed. But very briefly. You must return to the temple by the hour of the owl and no later.”

  Leela nodded, her heart lifting. “I will, Acolyte,” she promised. “Thank you.”

  There were many novices returning from the Estuary as Leela crossed Dendra’s Bridge. Some waved at her or smiled, but most gave her suspicious looks. Leela could not blame them; she had not chosen this life the way they had. She was not truly one of them.

  Leela saw Koreen with Atana again and also their friend Daina, but the pretty Cerulean girl did not appear to see her—or if she did, she pretended she hadn’t. Leela waited for a sting that did not come. The time when Koreen’s opinions had mattered to her was long gone. She had new friends now, truer ones than Koreen or Atana or Daina had ever been.

  The cool waters of the Estuary were a balm against her skin, washing away three days of dirt and sweat and exhaustion. Leela floated on her back and stared up at the stars, her blue hair spilling out around her face, gentle waves lapping over her stomach and her breasts. She remembered the last time she had bathed here with Sera, the day she had given her the moonstone necklace. How much had changed since then.

  At last, she emerged from the water, clean and slippery as a sun trout, and dried herself with her old dress before pulling on her new novice robe. The walk to her mothers’ dwelling felt the same and different all at once. It was a path she knew so well, but the dwelling was not her home any longer.

  Lanterns were lit in the kitchen, golden light spilling out of the windows. Leela hesitated in the doorway, fearful all of a sudden that her mothers would not wish to see her. But then her purple mother came into the hall with a bolt of seresheep wool in her hands.

  “Leela?” she gasped, and the wool thudded to the floor.

  “Hello, Purple Mother,” Leela said. She should call her Ilianne now, she thought, and her other mothers Rooni and Lastra. She did not live at home any longer, and so must address her mothers by their given names. But she found she could not bring herself to do that quite yet. She could not bear to part with that last piece of her old self.

  Her purple mother flew toward her and flung her arms around her. And then her other mothers were there hugging her and crying, and Leela had never felt so loved yet so alone.

  “We miss you so much,” her green mother whispered.

  “I miss you too,” Leela whispered back.

  Her mothers pulled away, her orange mother fussing over her robe while her purple mother tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

  “Are you all right? Have you eaten? You must be starved. We have some cauliflower cooking, and your green mother is making her famous purple barley salad, with arugula and lemon, just how you like it.”

  Her purple mother could not seem to stop the torrent of words, as if they might be the last she would ever say to her daughter.

  “I have had some broth and bread,” Leela said. “That is all I feel I can eat. And I must return to the temple by the hour of the owl.”

  Her purple mother’s eyes filled with tears. “Of course,” she said.

  “I am so sorry.” Leela found she could not look at her. “Purple Mother, you did me such a kindness taking me to the forest and I repaid you with lies and deceit.” This apology, at least, was sinc
ere. “I did not mean to dishonor you, mothers. I only . . .”

  But there were no words to explain why she had done what she did.

  Her green mother lifted Leela’s chin with a gentle finger. “You think we have not seen the change in you, my darling?” She smiled, and tiny lines crinkled around the corners of her eyes. “You think I did not hear you sneaking out of your bedroom at night?”

  Leela felt her stomach swoop, as if she had jumped out of a tree that was taller than expected. “You . . . knew?”

  “I knew when Sera would coax you out as well,” her green mother said. “I thought you missed the adventures she used to take you on.”

  “I do,” Leela admitted.

  “We imagined you would confide in us,” her orange mother said. “When you were ready.”

  Her purple mother fixed her with a look of bracing sympathy. “You did not sneak into the birthing houses to see Plenna, did you.”

  Leela shook her head. “But please don’t ask me to explain, mothers. Only know that I am so sorry to have shamed you. I never meant to be such a disappointment.”

  Her mothers looked at each other, and then they were all hugging Leela again.

  “My sweet child,” her green mother murmured. “You could never be a disappointment to us. Never.”

  Leela felt some of her guilt ease, the tightness in her chest soften, and she held her mothers close and breathed in their scents, lavender and rosewater and citrus.

  “We will still see you,” her orange mother reminded her, “at the temple, and around the City. And you are always welcome here. This will always be your home.”

  A tear slid down Leela’s cheek. “Thank you, Orange Mother. Or must I call you Lastra now?”

  Her orange mother let out a choked laugh. “You may call me whatever you wish. If the High Priestess can issue four penances at once, if Sera’s sacrifice was not enough to break the tether, then . . . well, it seems as if many things in this City are changing. What you call your mothers is the least of them.”

  “Perhaps it is time for change,” her green mother said. “This City has been sedentary for too long.”

  Leela wanted to scream, she wanted to hold her mothers in her arms and never let them go, she wanted to cry and confess all. But it was not time, not yet.

  She was grateful to know that her mothers were not wholly unaware. Perhaps there were other Cerulean noticing a change in the City.

  She gave her mothers one final squeeze, then stepped back. “I must return to the temple.”

  Her orange mother nodded. “We are glad you came.”

  Leela smiled through her tears. “So am I. And as you said, I am not going far.”

  Her green mother pressed a hand to Leela’s cheek. “We have been so proud of you. But there is a strength inside you that, I admit, I did not always see. It shines through your eyes now. I have never been more honored to be your mother.”

  “Nor I,” her purple mother said.

  “Nor I,” echoed her orange mother.

  Leela’s throat was too swollen to speak. She kissed them each on the cheek, then turned and fled back to the temple, more determined than ever to return to the underground gardens, to bring Sera home and heal her City.

  11

  THE NEXT DAY, AFTER THE NOVICES HAD THEIR MORNING prayers, Leela was given a mop and bucket of soapy water by Acolyte Klymthe and set to cleaning the floors of the temple.

  Leela found she did not mind the work—it allowed her mind to wander, to plan. She felt there was nothing to be done other than wait for the novices to fall asleep and sneak out of the dormitory, back to Faesa’s statue. But she wanted to take Elorin with her. The young novice needed to see that place with her own eyes.

  Leela’s arms ached from mopping by the time evening prayers arrived. She had intended to stay awake until the hour of the dark to see which novices slept soundly and which might be woken by the slightest noise, but suddenly it was morning and time for more prayers and more cleaning, and Leela had not even remembered falling asleep.

  The next day was the same, and the next, and the next. Leela’s arms grew lean and strong, the mop feeling like an extension of her, the swish it made on the floors comforting, the splash of the water in the bucket its own music.

  Swish swish plop swish. Swish swish plop swish.

  It reminded her of the sound of the High Priestess feeding the trapped Cerulean with the golden fruit. She was just thinking that perhaps tonight would be the night to try to sneak to the Moon Gardens when a group of novices passed her, whispering, and Elorin trailed behind them. She paused for a brief moment, pretending to encourage Leela in her efforts, but then dropped her voice to a low whisper.

  “The High Priestess has not been seen since the last evening of your fast,” she said. “I tried to keep a watch on her as much as I could and I saw her enter the Moon Gardens, but she has not yet returned.”

  Leela’s heart sank. She did not dare go beneath the City if the High Priestess was there—and if she had not been seen, Leela was certain she was down with her stalactites.

  “There’s something in the Moon Gardens, isn’t there,” Elorin whispered.

  “Yes,” Leela whispered back. “And I’ll show you. But we must be careful.”

  Elorin glanced toward the gaggle of novices leaving the temple. “They do not think you belong here,” she said. “They are angry about the penance.”

  “I know,” Leela said with a sigh.

  “I think it is a good thing,” Elorin said. “I think this City might be waking up.”

  Leela thought so too, but Elorin scampered off before she had a chance to say so.

  The next day, Acolyte Imima gave her a bristly brush and set her to scrubbing the walls of the temple. That lasted for another four days—Leela had to get a ladder to reach the higher parts and the work was less forgiving than mopping had been. She watched every day for a sign of the High Priestess but she never appeared.

  The morning after she finished the walls, Acolyte Endaria gave her a cloth and a jar of polish and instructed her to clean the pulpit and the temple doors. Leela decided to start with the doors—she was quite sick of the inside of the temple. She took the ladder with her so she could start at the top and work her way down. The symbols seemed to shift under her fingers as she ran the cloth over them, though they did not spell Heal them or anything else today.

  “Good morning, Leela.” Koreen was standing at the top of the temple steps.

  “Good morning,” Leela replied politely, wondering what Koreen wanted with her.

  “I am in a triad now,” she said. “With Daina and Atana.”

  “What joyful news,” Leela forced herself to say.

  Koreen shrugged. “It is a shame we missed the wedding season. I would so love to be married.”

  Leela kept her mouth shut. She had no pity to spare for Koreen.

  “I was hoping to speak to the High Priestess,” Koreen continued. “But Acolyte Klymthe says she is sequestered.”

  “She is,” Leela said. “And has been for many days.”

  Koreen sighed. “It is such a trying time for her. First, Sera is deemed unworthy by Mother Sun, then you go and break one of the most sacred rules of the City. Her spirits must be very low.”

  It took all of Leela’s strength not to make a sharp retort. “Indeed. Well, unless there is something you need, I’m afraid I must get back to my polishing.”

  Koreen pursed her lips as if this conversation was not going at all the way she wanted. “Very well,” she said. “Atana and Daina and I are going to get our own dwelling near the Aviary. You may come visit us whenever you wish.”

  “What a kind offer,” Leela said through gritted teeth. “If I can find the time, I surely will.”

  Koreen raised an eyebrow, then flicked her hair back over her shoulder in a way that Leela seemed to recall used to be attractive but now looked vain and silly. She turned and headed off toward Aila’s Bridge.

  Leela returned to her
polishing when suddenly, the symbols beneath her cloth changed, and a waterfall of a single word tumbled down the copper door.

  Tonight, it read.

  Leela nearly dropped the jar of polish.

  “Mother Sun,” she whispered. “Is that you?”

  Tonight. The word sparkled, the symbols growing larger, and Leela felt sure Mother Sun could hear her.

  Then she heard a familiar voice.

  “. . . more food, and prayer.” The High Priestess came around the bend of the temple, speaking with Acolyte Klymthe. “I will go myself early tomorrow. Make sure they know they need not be concerned. They will all be pregnant soon enough. Mother Sun wills it so.”

  “Yes, High Priestess,” the acolyte said, bowing her head.

  “Ah, Leela,” the High Priestess said. “Your penance is coming along nicely, I am told.”

  Leela forced herself to sound meek. “I hope so, High Priestess. I am working very hard.”

  “Carry on,” the High Priestess said, and she and Acolyte Klymthe disappeared into the temple, walking past the doors without a second glance, making Leela certain that the symbols were speaking only to her.

  “Tonight,” she whispered to them, and the markings rippled and grew illegible once more, and Leela finished polishing with her heart in her throat.

  She managed to get word to Elorin at supper that evening.

  The novices ate in the Moon Gardens, on gossamer blankets with large bowls of food spread out among them. Leela was helping herself to rice seasoned with saffron and olives when Elorin appeared at her elbow.

  “Good evening, Leela,” she said politely. “May I have the spoon when you are finished?”

  “Certainly,” Leela replied, just as distant. Then she lowered her voice and said, “We must go to the Moon Gardens tonight at the hour of the dark.”

  Elorin inclined her head without looking at her, and Leela handed her the spoon and left to sit on a blanket near the statue of Faesa.

  I’m coming back, she thought.

  Faesa’s eyes seemed to see right into Leela’s soul. She felt as if the moonstone heard her, and was glad, though the statue remained as cold and impassive as ever.