The Cerulean

by Amy Ewing

  When Leo had told their father there was nothing suitable in Agnes’s wardrobe, he sent the two of them out with Eneas to Elvira Chester’s, a store Agnes had spent her entire life avoiding. Everything was lace and frills and chiffon, pink was the favored color, but the worst part was the clientele. Snobby old women with upturned noses complained loudly about how they didn’t make dresses like they used to, and giggling girls chattered about the latest fashion or who had just gotten engaged or which Old Port boy was the most eligible bachelor (it was always, always, Robert Conway).

  But it did afford her and Leo time to talk privately without their father becoming suspicious. Agnes realized on the drive to the store that the change was noticeable—the sulking silence that usually hung between them was replaced with muted conversation. She’d caught Eneas watching her in the rearview and quickly turned to stare out the window for the rest of the ride.

  Eneas had mailed her essay to the University of Ithilia yesterday. Agnes had felt an exhilarating sense of accomplishment that was fading now in the face of what they were about to attempt. But she had tried, at least. Whether they accepted her or not, she had tried.

  Leo leaned forward and lowered his voice. “She is magic, you know,” he said. “Maybe she has some secret glass-breaking power we don’t know about.”

  “I don’t think that’s how her magic works.”

  “How would you know?”

  “I just don’t think it’s aggressive in any way. Otherwise why not break out of the crate? If she had some kind of superstrength, don’t you think she would have used it from the very first, when you trapped her in that net?”

  Leo shifted, looking guilty. “I thought we agreed that that was both of our faults.”

  “Please.” Agnes rolled her eyes. “You actually caught her. I merely did not act quickly enough to set her free.”

  “You always have to be right, don’t you,” he grumbled.

  “Miss McLellan, we have some options for you.” The salesgirl in charge of her was a twentysomething blonde named Gertrude who kept giving Leo doe-eyed looks. Agnes felt it was a testament to her brother’s newfound personality change that he didn’t seem to notice.

  She had pulled a rack of dresses out, each one pinker and frillier than the last. Agnes folded her arms across her chest. “No,” she said.

  Gertrude looked confused. “But you haven’t tried them on yet.”

  Agnes met her eyes with a steely gaze. “No,” she said again.

  “How about something in blue or green?” Leo suggested. “Pink isn’t really her color.”

  “Of course, sir.” The rack was wheeled away.

  “Here’s the thing,” Leo said, leaning forward again. He’d been saying that over and over for the past several days. Agnes hadn’t realized that teaming up with her brother would result in a million questions she didn’t have answers to. She hadn’t thought him a curious person, but now she was discovering a whole new side she had never seen before. Maybe it had always been there, hiding beneath the veneer of vanity and excess and self-congratulation, tucked away in the same place he’d hidden his conscience.

  Or maybe it was just the release of their father’s grip on him—on both of them. They were a team for the first time in their lives.

  As much as she hated to admit it, it was sort of nice.

  “What’s the thing?” she said.

  “Well, you’ve got the ship all sorted out, and Sera is working on getting out of the theater, but how are we going to get to the Seaport?”

  “What do you mean ‘we’?” Agnes asked.

  “I’m going to Pelago with you.”

  “No, you’re not,” she said.

  Leo looked stunned. “Yes, I am.”

  “But I haven’t negotiated your berth with Vada.”

  “So negotiate.”

  “Ugh, Leo.” Despite his sudden change of heart, he still saw things from an infuriatingly male perspective. “I don’t have enough money to buy passage for you.”

  The thousand krogers she’d kept would have to go to food and more travel and other, unforeseen expenses.

  “Ugh, Agnes.” Leo imitated her tone perfectly. “I don’t need your money. I have my own.”

  He was right, and the fact that Leo could walk into the bank and take out however much he wanted without needing a letter or a chaperone stung.

  “Fine,” she said. “But I can’t go to the Seaport again. If the papers can be believed, it’s getting dangerous down there, and besides, what if one of Father’s men recognizes me? His ships are leaving for Pelago any day now.”

  “I’ll go myself then. I know what she looks like.”

  “She won’t deal with you, you’re a man,” Agnes said. “And a Kaolin one at that.”

  She felt she was being horribly petty. Her brother was trying to help. In fact, he was the only line of communication between her and Sera at the moment, something she should be grateful for. And she was.

  But she couldn’t help being just a little jealous too. She wanted to be the one talking to Sera. This was her plan. She had started it all.

  But Leo appeared undaunted. He turned so he was in profile. “I’ve got the face of a Byrne, don’t I? That’s got to mean something to Pelagans. Every damn one I’ve ever met has mentioned it. Eneas, Kiernan, even Vada said so. It’s about time I got some mileage out of it.”

  That could be true, Agnes thought. She herself had used their grandmother’s name to convince Vada initially. But she remembered the warning Vada had given her about Ambrosine and worried that perhaps the currency of Leo’s face would come at a greater cost than she could foresee.

  “How much did you pay her already?” Leo asked.

  She pursed her lips. “Two thousand krogers.”

  He inhaled sharply. “Two—are you insane? Is she insane? That’s . . . that’s . . . extortion!”

  A couple of giggling girls paused their conversation and gave Leo curious looks.

  “Keep your voice down,” Agnes hissed. “It isn’t extortion if it was paid willingly. No Pelagan ship would take Kaolin passengers, and no Kaolin ship would take a woman without a chaperone. I did what I had to do. I wouldn’t be surprised if she charged you two thousand for your passage alone, being a Kaolin man and all.”

  She saw this sink in, Leo recognizing the hurdles she had to jump that were simply never an obstacle for him.

  “Okay,” he said. “Two thousand krogers. No problem.”

  “No, I suppose it isn’t for you,” she said.

  “But that still doesn’t—” Leo was interrupted by Gertrude returning with three new gowns.

  “No pink this time,” she said, her cheeks flushed. “Shall I take them to the dressing room?”

  “Yes, please,” he said. Agnes didn’t even bother looking at the selection. As she closed the curtain behind her, she heard Leo say, “I’ll let you know if we need any further assistance, thank you.”

  “Very well, sir.”

  Agnes began to unbutton her blouse. “You’re right, though,” she said through the curtain. “I haven’t got a plan to get to the Seaport. I guess I figured a hansom would be easiest.”

  “You think we’ll be able to just hail a cab? Agnes, we are trying to cause a distraction. A ceiling is going to be broken, glass will be falling, people will hopefully be running and screaming. I think we’re going to have to get out before all that happens.”

  He was right and it irked her. She undid her skirt and it pooled around her feet. The first gown was dark teal silk with a black lace bodice and bell sleeves. Black tassels hung from the hem of the skirt. She laced the back up as best she could and opened the curtain.

  “No,” Leo said immediately.

  “You don’t think—”

  “You look like a middle-aged widow. Next.”

  She closed the curtain and shimmied out of the dress. The second gown was purple with a massive amount of petticoats that Agnes had to fight her way into. The sleeves were short and puffe
d, the skirt dotted with purple and white bows.

  “Sera said she gets lowered on the swing in one of the final scenes,” Leo continued, “so we should leave before that. Maybe at intermission? But Father would notice our absence if we both disappeared. . . .”

  She opened the curtain and Leo’s eyes widened for a half second before he burst out laughing.

  “Dear god, how did that woman get a job here?” he exclaimed.

  Agnes had to laugh too. “Okay, last one,” she said, hoping the final gown would work. She was already tired of this store and couldn’t stomach the idea of staying here all afternoon. “What if you made some sort of excuse at intermission?” she said, closing the curtain and struggling out of the endless layers of skirts.

  “What kind of excuse?”

  “I don’t know, you’re working with Kiernan. Maybe you can pretend something is wrong with Boris or Sera and you need to check it out.”

  There was a pause from the other side of the curtain. “That could work. But what about you?”

  The last gown was incredibly simple, red satin, off the shoulder, fitted at the waist, with a train that spilled out behind her. Agnes slipped it on—it was lightweight and remarkably comfortable.

  “Wow,” Leo said when she pulled back the curtain.

  “I like it.”

  “Yeah, that’s definitely the one. And bloodred is in this season. It’s perfect.”

  Bloodred. An idea came to Agnes in a flash, and a slow smile spread across her face. It would be uncomfortable but worth it, she knew.

  “What?” Leo asked.

  “I know how to get out of the theater in the middle of the show without Father asking any questions.”

  When they arrived back at the brownstone on Creekwater Row, Agnes took the package up to her room and hung the dress in her wardrobe.

  Two more days. That was all the time that was left until the show, and then the ship would set sail the next morning, hopefully with all of them aboard. Two thousand krogers had to be enough to obligate Vada to let them spend the night on the schooner. She wondered if Leo would be able to buy his way onto the ship. She briefly considered returning to the Seaport to find Vada and ask her, but she hadn’t been exaggerating when she told Leo the Seaport was becoming too dangerous. More and more travelers, fortune seekers, and adventurers were pouring into Old Port every day, eager to join the search for the ruins and claim its riches for their own. There were constant reports of fighting and brawls, resulting in an increased police presence. The other day she’d read that a man had been stabbed over a berth on a ship. As much as she would like to see Vada again—with less ale this time, certainly—she felt the risk was too great.

  Agnes shivered thinking about so much time on a boat alone with Vada. Perhaps that was part of her hesitation to bring Leo along as well, if she was honest. How could she be herself, her true self, when her brother was there reminding her of who she used to have to pretend to be? She couldn’t imagine how Leo might react if he knew. He was changing, sure, but she wasn’t certain it was possible for him to change that much.

  But it was no good worrying over the future when the present was quite enough of a problem. Had Sera found a way to break the ceiling? Could she really get all the way up to it in the first place? How would she find the Seaport? What sort of distraction could be caused that would be enough? According to Leo, Sera could talk to the others, the mertag and the Arboreal, but Agnes could not bring herself to have faith in them. She was a scientist, after all. She needed to see things with her own eyes.

  It was so frustrating not to be able to just sit down with Sera and hash all this out. She heard voices downstairs and paused. Her father, she could tell, and possibly Kiernan. She crept to her bedroom door and listened.

  “. . . not suitable for this sort of interview,” Xavier was saying. “It’s all about optics. Leo will be fine. You’ve taught him well, haven’t you?”

  “Of course I have. I have always done as you’ve asked. It’s just that I am responsible for them. I brought them here, I took care of them—”

  “Leo brought me the girl, and she is the most crucial piece.” Xavier’s voice was so frosty, Agnes felt its chill whisper across her skin.

  There was a sullen silence; then her father called, “Leo!”

  She heard footsteps down the hall, and her brother said, “Yes, sir?”

  “I am bringing a reporter from the Old Port Telegraph to the theater tomorrow to get a sneak peek at my new venture. You will accompany me. Bring a syringe for the girl’s blood. We will leave at two o’clock sharp.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Good. If you will excuse me, Kiernan, I have some letters to attend to. Go to the Seaport and check on the status of my ships. And pay Roth a visit—I know he has been talking to Wilson Everett at the Lugsworth. Remind him where his focus needs to lie.”

  “Very good,” Kiernan said, but he sounded weary. Agnes heard the door open and close, and then Leo was trudging up the stairs.

  “Did you hear that?” he whispered.

  “Look on the bright side,” she said. “This may be our last chance to know if she’s come up with a solution to the ceiling problem. You’ve got to find some way to speak to her alone.”

  “I know,” Leo said.

  Dinner that night was a quiet affair, each of the three McLellans lost in their own thoughts. Xavier excused himself early and Leo went to bed soon after, still fretting over his day tomorrow. Agnes would have given anything to be able to take his place. She hated this sense of powerlessness.

  She was about to go upstairs herself when she heard the sound of a hoot owl. It hooted twice, paused, then hooted again.

  Eneas.

  She rushed to the dining room window, and he was there by the motorcar waving at her to come out. She went out through the kitchen and met him behind a large rhododendron bush.

  “I received a notice from the post office,” he said. For one shocking second Agnes thought the university was responding to her essay, before she remembered it had only just been mailed. Eneas’s hands trembled as he held out a thin silver envelope stamped with wax. The seal had a flowering tree with a snake slithering at its roots. “The crest of the Byrnes,” he said, and his voice shook as much as his hands.

  “What?” Agnes ran her fingers over the dark red wax.

  “Take it inside, quickly. Don’t let anyone see. Go!”

  She tucked it into her pocket, whirled, and ran back into the kitchen, startling Hattie as she was washing the dishes. Once she was safely in her room, she took the letter out. Her name was written in a very handsome script in black ink. There was no return address.

  She broke the wax and slid the letter out.

  My dearest Agnes,

  I hope this letter reaches you. I have friends at the University of Ithilia and received surprising (and welcome) news. Come find me when you arrive. I will say no more here except that I have longed to meet you.

  Your loving grandmother,

  Ambrosine Byrne

  Agnes read the letter three times and by the fourth, tears were obscuring her vision. She sat down at her desk and smoothed the paper out, running her fingers over the words, each one as precious as if they had been spoken aloud.

  Her grandmother knew she was coming. Her grandmother wanted to meet her.

  36

  Sera

  AFTER LEO LEFT HER, SERA HAD EXPLAINED THE SITUATION to Errol and Boris and they had talked late into the night. They’d had to stop when day came and the performers returned, but picked up their planning again when the next night fell. By the following morning, she felt they had come up with a solid plan.

  Errol would serve as a navigator, not only to direct the ship to Braxos but also to get Sera to the Seaport—she would not know where she was going once she got to the roof. Errol did not relish the thought of leading humans to his sacred island.

  “They will take and take from it,” he muttered. “They will steal its beauty and i
ts riches.”

  “Not these humans, Errol,” she had said. “They aren’t like that.”

  He had snorted. “All humans are the same, Sera Lighthaven. Lusting for land, greedy for power, no thought for any creatures but themselves.”

  She felt awful leaving Boris behind, but there was simply no way to take the Arboreal with them. The tree was only too happy to help and insisted in her windy voice that her sprites would perform however she instructed them, and that the humans would not be able to look away from the glory of their light.

  “Do not be sad for me, little sapling,” she had crooned. “I have lived a long life, a good life. And you have given me the greatest gift of all. You have given me seeds of light and love.”

  They’d worked out a solution to break the ceiling—Errol had a defense mechanism hidden in his scales and skin. His lights were not just for show or for communication.

  “We mertags have lightning in us,” he told her proudly when she had presented the problem of the glass. “If we are attacked, we run a current over our skin. Shocks the enemy, it does. Burns them. Very nasty, very effective.”

  “Then how did the humans catch you?” Sera asked. “Why did you not use this power against them?”

  Errol had frowned at her. “I did. Lightning cannot be used more than once at a time. It must be replenished.” Then he croaked out a laugh. “But I got one, oh yes I got one good. He won’t be touching a mertag again anytime soon. Now they only touch Errol with wood or nets, never skin or metal.”

  “And you think if you touch the glass and run the lightning over your skin, it will break?”

  “I am sure of it. But be warned—I will be clinging to your back at the time. I will burn you, my friend. By cockles and clams, I will burn you.”

  Sera smiled. “It’s all right, Errol. I heal quickly. And I have faced worse dangers.”

  Errol had looked dubious, but Sera was confident she could withstand anything she put her mind to at this point. Pain no longer frightened her. She had suffered the agony of losing her home, her best friend, her mothers. And she had survived. She would do anything to get back to the tether. No fate frightened her except one: failure.