Page 130 of The Cerulean Sister
We hear someone walking, the echo bouncing off the darkness, the main entrance of the room opening.
The young scholar I saw before walks toward us, balancing a scone on the top of a teacup with a candle in the other hand. He looks up and stops in his tracks, noticing me standing in the back of the room.
He gasps a little, like he's seen a ghost and not a priestess trying to break into the forbidden book room.
"We go now, right?" Calliape places her hand on me again and squeezes. "I really think we should go."
"No, no, no. We can't. If we disappear right in front of him, he will know we were up to something," I whisper.
The scholar walks slowly down the aisle toward us, squinting his eyes to make sure we are truly real and not just shadows. "High Priestess Ferren?"
"Hello. I was just—" I have no idea what to say to him.
"I am afraid you have caught me. Truthfully, I have grown so fond of the silence in this room with the others gone. I could not get used to working in the other room," he rambles and gestures toward the room connected, where I met him before when he said he could not work at Mary's desk.
"There is no reason to explain yourself," I say, a little confused at his nervousness, like he thinks he is the one in the wrong.
"Oh, hello, I am Edwin." He leans to the side, and I know he is talking to Calliape even though I have purposely kept her tucked behind me.
She says nothing back.
He nods awkwardly and continues to walk to his desk. "I was hoping to see you again." He takes a bite of the scone sitting on his mug and places everything down.
"Ferren," Calliape whispers.
"It's ok. I think."
"I took a look at the journal I saw you holding . . . Mary's." He holds it up as if it is something I asked him to do. "A lot ofit was gibberish, but that was intentional. You said you did not know what Mary was working on before, but this is not the first one I have found. A lot of gibberish in the other as well. I think they are meant to be read together. The Frithian inside lines up perfectly, as if she had them side by side as she was writing. Fascinating." He rounds the desk so casually to find the other book he mentioned.
I can feel Calliape's posture change the moment he mentioned her language.
"What is he talking about?"
"I found some kind of log in Mary's desk. Written in Frithian, names and dates," I whisper to her.
He carries both in his hand as he walks toward us, holding them out like he is beyond excited to reveal his findings.
We both nod.
He stares at us, then the door behind, as if something has clicked and his excitement got away from his logic.
"Do you need something from that room, High Priestess? Are you trying to open the door?"
I stand a little straighter, wondering if he will call the guards, if I can explain this away or if I should tell Calliape to get us out and that our time here is officially over, that we are compromised.
But then he smiles with the side of his mouth. "I have a key if you need it."
"No. We were just—I have never seen the scholar rooms and I wanted to indulge, forgive me."
"You don't trust me, I understand," he says to us both but looks at Calliape for a long time. He pulls back the book, flipping through like he is trying to find the right page. "My husband's sister was a troubled woman. Her and the father of her young girl were . . . Well, let's just say he was not a kind man. Last we heard from her, she had gotten in touch with someone whocould get her out of the city but she wouldn't tell us where she was going. That person's name was Mary. My sister-in-law said she worked in the Estate, had access to resources for travel. You can imagine when I heard Mary's position was available. I thought maybe you were helping her, High Priestess?"
He glances up at me from the second book, finding another specific page. When I shake my head, he continues, "This . . . is my sister-in-law's name and her daughter's. The date they departed. Written in Frithian."
Calliape leans in and reads it. "Is she fair in complexion?" Calliape steps out from behind me.
"You are Frithian?" He looks her over, noticing her clothes are not of Cosima, then shakes his head a little to focus. "Yes, she had fair skin."
"What color is her daughter's hair?" she tests him.
