The Cerulean (The Cerulean Duology #1) - Amy Ewing Page 0,66

now.”

“You are speaking to a mertag,” he pointed out. “Humans cannot speak the colors.”

“That’s true,” she agreed. “But I want to go home, Errol.”

“Yes, home.” His filaments lit up in mournful greens and grays. “I am not meant to be here either, Sera Lighthaven. I miss the dark waters, the feel of the cold current over my scales, the familiar colors of my fellow mertags.”

They lapsed into silence. Sera clutched her neck where the pendant had hung, wondering if Leela had thought about her at all, if she missed Sera as desperately as Sera missed her.

The silence was broken by a gentle humming sound.

“What’s that?” she gasped, looking around.

“That is Tree,” Errol said. “Tree likes to hum sometimes.”

“They call him Boris,” she said.

The corners of Errol’s mouth turned down. “Tree is female.”

“Oh.” Sera glanced at the silvery trunk. “How do you know?”

He shrugged. “It is obvious.”

There was something soothing about the song Boris hummed that reminded her of the moonflower fields at sunrise and of the thick, soft fleece of a seresheep.

“I know you.” The voice came out of nowhere, and it seemed to echo in Sera’s head the way Errol’s did, except this voice, while deep and rich, was distinctly feminine.

“What was that?” she said.

“What was what?” Errol looked up at her, his mouth full of flowers.

“I know you,” Boris said again, and Sera was sure this time that it was directed at her. The Arboreal’s three eyes turned in her direction. They were dark and smooth like pebbles along a riverbank, full of wisdom and sadness. “Mother,” she hummed.

Sera was not a mother, and if she had been, she would certainly not be the mother of a tree.

“Who is your mother?” she asked, but Boris did not speak the colors, and Sera did not know how to speak the humming tree language. She splayed her hands wide and stared at them, as if she might be able to see through her skin to the magic inside. Mother Sun, but this was frustrating.

“I know your face,” Boris hummed.

“Tree likes you,” Errol said.

“She says she knows me,” Sera said.

“But you only just got here.”

“I know.” She felt as if she was on the brink of understanding something very important, but the answers were just out of her reach, like a butterfly flitting from flower to flower, never settling down. She gazed up at the covered glass ceiling and wished she could see the stars. She had always felt guided by them. But now she was untethered and alone.

More humans came the next day, and this time there were females as well as males.

She was determined to be ready. She would not be stabbed with a needle or captured by a hoop. A change was happening inside her—she could feel it even if she did not truly understand it, and there was no green mother to ask. To be honest, she doubted her green mother would be able to tell her anyway. She had to learn for herself now.

The first to arrive after Francis had given her food and more water and changed the bucket she used to relieve herself was an older male with a tremendous amount of hair on his face. He had it tied in two prongs braided with red and gold ribbons. His skin was wrinkled as a walnut, and he wore two pieces of glass connected with wire over his eyes.

“Let me see her, Francis,” he said, climbing the steps to the stage and rubbing his hands together. He knelt by the crate and peered inside. Sera hated the way he was staring at her, like she wasn’t a person at all.

“In the name of the One True God . . .” he murmured. The green-eyed male James had used the same invocation. Sera didn’t know who this One True God was, but she didn’t like him. “I heard she tried to run yesterday.”

“Yes, sir, but Mr. Kiernan and Mr. Roth caught her.” Francis stared down at his feet as if ashamed.

“I hope they have sorted out some way to transport her for this evening.”

“I believe Mr. McLellan has hired Pemberton men, sir.”

“Ah! A wise decision.”

Transport her? This evening? Sera’s mood lifted. Maybe they would take her out of the crate again. Another chance to escape was presenting itself so soon.

Others filtered in after that—there was a boisterous male with black hair on his upper lip and chin and a large woman with a heavily painted face who shrieked when she saw Sera and clutched at