Angel-Seeker (6 page)

He smiled at them, for surely they could not be as duplicitous and scheming as their fathers and uncles. “I've come to make my fortune,” he said gaily. “To buy and sell in the market.”

“Angels don't buy and sell,” another one scoffed.

“He might come for wine,” the first boy said.

“Or jewels. He might want to buy jewels,” a third one guessed.

“I know who has the best gold in Breven,” the first boy said. “I'll take you to his tent right now.”

“He's not going to your grandfather's stall! No angel wants to be cheated by that old man!”

“My grandfather is not a cheat!
Your
father is a cheat and a liar—”

They were that quickly squabbling among themselves. So much for their status as uncorrupted youths. “Could you—excuse me a moment—before you get too deeply into a discussion of whose father is more despicable, could you possibly tell me where the merchant Uriah can be found?”

“I'll take you to see him,” one boy said promptly. “For a copper.”

Obadiah had to laugh. Contentious
and
enterprising; yes, they
had been bred up from the cradle to enact all the vices of their heritage. “Done,” he said before someone else could make a counteroffer. “Is it far?”

“You'll see,” the boy replied, and darted off into the makeshift alleys of the market. Ignoring the hoots and insults of the other boys, Obadiah followed his guide as best he could. It was hard to thread his way through the crowded pathways of the market, but he held his wings tightly behind him and hoped no one stepped clumsily on one of his trailing feathers. He murmured apologies as he brushed past bulky, impassive Jansai who did not bother to give way for him, and he nodded in a friendly way whenever he caught someone's speculative eyes upon his face. Angels did not often come to Breven just to frolic for an afternoon. They all knew he had arrived with some purpose, and they were busy trying to deduce what it might be.

“Angelo! Here we are! Where's my copper?” his thieving little escort announced. “Here” was a fairly impressive booth consisting of a broad table covered by a bright red awning, which was attached to a roomy tent made of a similar red fabric. Three lean, dark, dangerous-looking Jansai men worked behind the table. A crowd of ten or fifteen gathered on the buyer's side, picking through merchandise. Obadiah thought the items for sale looked like Luminaux weavings, but he didn't pause to examine them too closely.

“Thanks,” he said, flipping a coin to the boy, who plucked it neatly from the air. Then he turned to one of the young men working. “Is Uriah to be found here? My name is Obadiah, and I've come to speak with him.”

The young man looked him over with hostile eyes. He had fair skin burned dark by the sun, muddy blond hair, and the physique of a runner.
Don't be so proud; you'll be fat in another five years,
Obadiah thought uncharitably. But it was true. He had never seen a thin Jansai who was over the age of thirty.

“He's inside,” the man said at last. “But I don't know if he's got time to talk to visitors.”

Obadiah nodded pleasantly. “That's fine. I can wait.”

The young man hesitated a moment. “I'll tell him you're here.”

“Thank you. You're so kind.”

The man disappeared inside the tent. Obadiah found himself
wondering what he would do if he really had to kill a few hours in this godforsaken town. Find a hotel for the night, he supposed. He would have to stay overnight in any case, since the flight back was too long to accomplish this evening, whether or not Uriah chose to speak to him now.

But the Jansai chieftain was disposed to be gracious. He emerged from the tent with his arms flung wide and a smile spread across his broad, greasy face. Uriah embodied the full flavor and style of the Jansai elder. He was heavy, sly, oily, well-dressed in the Jansai fashion, covered with jewelry, and wholly untrustworthy.

“Obadiah! What a pleasure to see you in Breven, and at my tent of all places! Come in, come in! It is a hot and uncomfortable day, but it is cool inside, and I can give you all manner of refreshments.”

“Thank you. I would greatly appreciate your hospitality.”

They stepped inside the red tent, and indeed, the temperature was at least ten degrees cooler. The interior was crammed with comforts—overstuffed chairs, piles of pillows, metal candelabra in whimsical shapes—and so many baubles and ornaments that it resembled a market booth itself. Still, it was more appealing than Obadiah's own living quarters at the moment. The angel chose the only appropriate seat in view, a four-legged stool covered in a painted purple leather, and let his wings settle behind him.

“Sit, sit! Will that be comfortable? What would you like to drink? Water? Wine? My wife makes a concoction of mixed fruit juices that is most refreshing on a hot day—”

“Yes, I would like some fruit juice, if some is available.”

“Instantly, angelo, instantly.”

It was a few more minutes before they were settled in, and one of the sullen sons had brought a tray of refreshments to set on a table by Uriah's hand. The Jansai handed him a glass filled with pulpy red liquid.

“So! Tell me, Obadiah of the Eyrie. What brings you to Breven on such a hot day?”

Obadiah smiled. “I understand that all days are hot in Breven, so if I am to come at all, I must choose to come in the heat.”

Uriah laughed more heartily than the joke warranted. This was another feature of Jansai hospitality: a great pretend warmth that
could evaporate in seconds. But the Jansai always led with a show of friendliness. It was a strategy Obadiah could appreciate.

“Not all days—come visit us in winter sometime, and you will see how miserable a hot climate can be,” Uriah said. “The wind is bitter indeed when there is nothing but sand to shield you from its malice.”

“The wind at high altitudes is bitter as well, but I have grown accustomed to it,” Obadiah said. “Still, my guess is that I prefer your city in summer or fall, so I am glad this is the time I have chosen to arrive.”

“And to what purpose? To examine goods in our market? Just tell me what you're seeking, and I will be happy to advise you on where to spend your money. I would want an angel to be shown only the highest quality merchandise, of course.”

“No, I'm not here to buy. Or sell. I'm here—” He lifted his glass and smiled as winningly as he could. “To lend an ear to the Jansai. The Archangel Gabriel has told me that there are troubles among your people, and he knows he has not done what he can to address them. Gabriel is busy—Nathan is busy. I merely sit on the high plateau at the Eyrie and sun myself, so they didn't think I was quite as busy. And they have sent me here to treat with you.”

“Ahhhh,” Uriah said on a long sigh and sat meditatively sipping from his glass. “Well, that was generous on Gabriel's part,” he said at last. “It is good to know he takes me seriously.”

“Gabriel takes everyone seriously. Gabriel is a serious man.”

“Gabriel is a blind, pigheaded, stubborn fanatic, and no one can deal with him,” Uriah said roundly.

Obadiah smiled again. “I assure you, you aren't the only one to hold that opinion. But I have to say I don't share it. I have found him always thoughtful and well-reasoned, though a bit high-handed, I must admit. Gabriel likes things his own way. But I have seen him bend when he has been convinced his way is wrong.”

Uriah leaned forward in his chair. “The liberation of the Edori—”

Obadiah shook his head. “It will not be reversed.”

Uriah flung his hands out. “But it will bankrupt the city! And if the Jansai fail, let me tell you plainly, your country will crumble within a year.”

“The last thing Gabriel wants—the last thing any of us want—is to see the Jansai fail,” Obadiah said quietly, with such sincerity that Uriah nodded. “Let us begin with the assumption that we are both working to ensure the success of the Jansai. But let us also work with the assumption that the Edori are to be in no way jeopardized. The Edori are no longer an option for you. Thus, we must look at other options.”

“I am not ready to relinquish the Edori,” Uriah grumbled.

“Then perhaps we will not get very far in our discussions today,” Obadiah said, still pleasantly. “But these are matters that will take some time to sort out, don't you agree? We do not have to solve everything in one evening.”

Uriah brooded for a moment, then suddenly his face lit in a smile. “You're right; I am not in favor of negotiations that are finalized in the snap of a finger,” he said, striking his fingers together in just such a gesture. “I distrust a man who arrives with his mind all made up, knowing just what he wants of me without seeing what else I have to offer. We will spend a little time together, and we will talk again later in the week—or later in the month—and we will see how we like each other. That is how the strongest deals are made. When you know the best of what your opponent has to offer.”

“Or the weakest spot in your opponent's defenses,” Obadiah said.

Uriah roared with laughter. “You're a witty one!” he exclaimed. “Did Gabriel send you here because of your quick tongue?”

“He claimed it was my charm of manner,” Obadiah said.

Uriah smiled widely, revealing rather large and dirty teeth. “I can be charming myself,” the Jansai said. “When it suits me.”

“Then I think we shall deal together extremely well.”

“Agreed! Are you staying for dinner? You must, of course! Jovah's bones, you will have to spend the night, I suppose, for your puny wings won't carry you all the way back to the Eyrie in a single night.”

“My puny wings are more impressive than any wings I have seen you sprout,” Obadiah said genially, “and I am not headed back to the Eyrie. I am staying in Cedar Hills for the foreseeable future.”

“Still too far to travel by night.”

“I agree. I was going to find a hotel.”

Uriah nodded. “I can recommend a good one.”

That was a relief. For a moment he had been afraid Uriah would insist that the angel stay with him, either in this tent or whatever unfriendly stone house the merchant might own in the central district. But no; the Jansai were not known for accommodating strangers. There had been no real chance that Uriah would take him in. “Thank you. I appreciate your kindness.”

The night that followed was only an inch away from debauchery. Obadiah constantly had the sense that, had he appeared the least bit interested, Uriah would have supplied him with fallen women, opiate concoctions, and even stronger liquors than the ones that were served. They took their dinner in another tent, an even more expansive one on the border between the city center and the stone houses of the residential district. The furnishings were opulent, the food magnificent, their companions inebriated and happy. Obadiah was careful to drink enough to appear convivial but not so much that he lost his sense of purpose. He laughed even when he was not amused, complimented his host extravagantly on the food, and listened attentively to every interminable story of hunting and trade offered up by Uriah and his friends. He thought possibly he had never spent a more miserable night in his life.

Well past midnight, Obadiah came to his feet, a little more shakily than he would have liked. “I'm a working man with a report to make in the morning,” he told Uriah. “I must be off to bed now if I've any hope of leaving the city before nightfall tomorrow.”

“I knew that an angel could not match ale pots with a Jansai,” Uriah said in satisfaction. “But you made a brave try! And I like you for it.”

“Thank you,” Obadiah said. “I was hoping you would like me for something.”

“Michael!” Uriah roared, and one of the drunken companions stumbled to his feet. “Escort the angelo back to his hotel. He is staying at the Desert Wind, near the viaduct.”

“It is not so far. I am certain I can find it on my own,” Obadiah said.

“You can, but if you are on your own, other things may find you first,” Uriah said, briefly serious in the middle of this hedonistic evening. “There are people here—other Jansai, I admit it, friends of mine, perhaps—who might not be so happy to see an angel in our midst. I would rather see you under safe escort than open you up to—hostilities—so late at night.”

Obadiah could not credit the idea that he could be in any real danger, but he allowed Uriah the chance to prove himself a watchful host. “Thank you, friend,” he said soberly. “Your concern for me does me honor.”

Michael, when he came weaving up to Obadiah's side, did not look prepared to fend off any Jansai dissidents who might happen upon them during their walk to the hotel. He was short, stout, and almost too drunk to stand. But he tried to arrange his features into some semblance of ferocity. “Are you ready, angelo?” he growled. “Then let us go.”

The night air was cool enough to be pleasant, and the streets empty enough to seem devoid of threat. Obadiah breathed deeply, glad to get away from the close confines of the tent and the overpowering scents of incense and alcohol. His companion paced beside him with his eyes trained on the cobblestone street, as if afraid to miss a gold coin left carelessly in the gutter.