“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 sound, 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?”