Angelica (13 page)

Gaaron turned to Keren as casually as he could. “Your Susannah appears to be much in demand,” he said. “Of course, she has an excellent voice.”

“Oh, everyone likes to pair up with Susannah, because she makes even the worst singer sound good,” Keren said carelessly. “At the Gathering, all the old women with their cracked voices and all the little girls who can hardly hold a note, they all want Susannah to sing with them. I don't know what they do for harmony the rest of the year.”

Bartholomew, who had moved to the angel's other side, now spoke up fondly. “Yes, the Lohoras can hear that lovely voice any night they choose, but the Tachitas must wait for happy fate to unite them again with their daughter.”

“Tachitas?” Gaaron said sharply. “What do—are the Lohoras friends of the Tachitas? Do you travel together often?”

Bartholomew shrugged. “When we encounter them, which we do from time to time. It makes Susannah happy to be again with her brothers and her father. And her nephews. So we travel with that clan when we can.”

“Susannah—she is originally of the Tachitas?” Gaaron demanded, feeling his face heat and his bones seem to swell. His tongue, too, had expanded, and made his words thick and stupid. “And—you say—she has nephews? No children of her own?”

“Not yet,” Keren said softly. “But we all hope they will come soon.”

I must speak with Susannah,
Gaaron wanted to say.
I must tell her of the life in store for her
. But that sounded lunatic; he could not make such an announcement to Bartholomew. Sweet Jovah singing, he could not make such an announcement to Susannah herself. What would he say to her? He had given this particular conversation no thought at all in the past weeks.

“Susannah!” a lazy voice called out, and a beautiful young man came to his feet. “Sing with me.”

His mind busy with his problem, Gaaron still had attention to spare for the drama going on before him. Was it his imagination, or did Susannah hesitate a moment before moving through the circle to stand at the side of this handsome creature? Did her face lose its smiling look as she gazed up at him? Was his own smile coaxing and hopeful?

Was this the man Keren hoped would someday father Susannah's babies? Who was he? Who was he to Susannah?

They began to sing, and for a moment, Gaaron forgot all his questions. Clearly these were two who had sung together often, for they caught each other's cues and line breaks. They laid voice against voice like palm to palm, with an equal, steady, pleasurable pressure. The man's voice was nearly as rich as hers; he sang like a sybarite, one who enjoyed any delight presented to him, the more physical the better. As they sang, the young man watched Susannah, teasing her, wooing her with his eyes, lavishing her with attention. Susannah tried to duck her head, to turn away, but that small
smile reappeared around the corners of her mouth, adding a gaiety to her performance that the song, quite strictly, did not require. It was a courtship clear enough, and Gaaron felt a peculiar and unpleasant sensation curl through his stomach as he watched.

Why had Jovah chosen as his bride someone who loved another man?

When that song ended, Susannah sat down and steadfastly refused to sing again, though she had many additional offers. Other singers rose to their feet, alone or in pairs, and the music was agreeable, but not particularly memorable. Not only that, everyone was getting tired. Children had fallen asleep in their mothers' laps, and lovers were drowsing in each others' arms. Even the final singers sounded exhausted.

Bartholomew rose to his feet and a stir went around the campfire. “I'm for bed,” he announced and the others murmured their agreement. “I will see you all again in the morning, my brothers and sisters.”

Everyone rose and stretched and said good nights. Keren and a stern-looking older woman came to Gaaron's side. The older woman eyed him with a measuring look.

“I would like to be able to offer you the hospitality of our tent, but I'm not certain you would fit,” she said truthfully. “We are crowded as it is, and if Susannah joins us tonight—”

“Though she might stay with Paul again,” Keren piped up.

“And she might not,” the woman snapped. “And if she sleeps here tonight with Dathan—”

Gaaron spared a moment to wonder how many men Susannah might be sleeping with at any one time.

“Then we would have no room for the angel, who, it seems to me, might need more space than we have to offer.”

Gaaron grinned. “I do not want to be any trouble,” he said. “I have slept out in the open before. If you have an extra blanket, I can make myself comfortable.”

“Or we can have Eleazar pitch a tent for you,” the older woman said. “We have a spare and it is no bother.”

“Yes, but he does not want to sleep all alone,” Keren objected. “Maybe Eleazar or Dathan would share his tent? Or Amram, even, he would be happy to.”

What was this? Now he would have to take the overflow from this overfull tent into his own little shelter? Why did they not pitch enough tents to begin with, if they had spares lying around?

“Bartholomew, if we had thought to ask him,” the older woman said thoughtfully. Then, to Gaaron, she said, “How many are you used to sharing your pallet with? I am sure we can find that many willing to spend the night at your side.”

Gaaron opened his mouth, closed it, considered, and spoke carefully. “I am very sure you are trying to do me honor,” he said gravely. “I don't entirely understand your customs. I am used to sleeping alone. I have two rooms in the Eyrie that are mine, and no one is there except at my invitation.”

The two women stared at him as if he had said he usually painted his body blue. Actually, that statement might have earned him less shock. “You sleep alone—always?” Keren said at last. “By choice? But aren't you—how can you—but aren't you afraid in the night when you wake and hear no one breathing? When you cannot put out a hand and touch your sister or your lover or your friend? Don't you worry that there is no one in the world alive but you?”

“Such fears have not occurred to me,” Gaaron said kindly. “But I am supposing that you all sleep together in bunches? For comfort?”

“Because that is how people
sleep
,” Keren replied, and the woman beside her nodded.

“I appreciate your concern for me,” Gaaron said. “I will happily sleep alone. If you wish to set up a tent for me, I will sleep there. Otherwise, I am quite content on a blanket before the fire. I would prefer that, in fact, since it is late and everyone is tired.”

The two women exchanged glances, and then the older one shrugged. “I will get you a blanket,” she said. “Tell Keren if there is anything else you require.”

In a few moments, he was as settled as he figured he would ever be at an Edori campfire. They had found not just a blanket but a good-sized pallet, springy and surprisingly comfortable. He had resigned himself to sleeping on the hard ground, something he despised, but it was too late now to
try and take off for civilization. Besides, he had to stay. He had to at least talk to Susannah. Though what he would say to her he still could not imagine.

The camp settled down around him while he lounged on his bed, watching. There appeared to be two tents pitched by this fire, one with Keren and her friend and various other Edori of a range of ages, the other filled with a smaller family that included two babies. Susannah's nephews, Gaaron supposed. He hoped that the “Paul” referred to earlier had been Susannah's brother, and that she had been sleeping chastely in his tent to be near to these very same nephews. He wasn't sure how he would ask her about that, either.

Susannah had not returned to either tent yet. Nor had the handsome young man with whom she had sung her last duet. Dathan, Gaaron thought his name might be. Dathan, with whom Susannah sometimes slept.

Perhaps his thinking about them had conjured them up, for just then the two appeared in his line of sight, walking forward slowly from the darkness beyond the perimeter of the fire. Their heads were bent low; Susannah had her arms crossed on her chest. Dathan reached forward as if to put his arm around her, and she jerked away.

Clearly, they had been arguing.

Normally, Gaaron was not the type to eavesdrop on other people's private conversation, but these two people, he reasoned, concerned him deeply. So he kept his head down on the pallet and watched, trying to guess what they were saying. They were not close enough for him to overhear their words, but she was obviously furious about something and he was trying to charm her out of her anger. She came to a sudden halt, turning on him and loosing a low stream of impassioned words that he tried in vain to stem. He reached for her again and she pushed him away, stepping back. He flung his hands in the air, said something sharp and short, and strode away. Here, to the campfire. He did not so much as glance at the angel before ripping open the canvas door and stepping inside the tent where Keren and the others from that clan were sleeping.

Susannah stood indecisively where he had left her, staring after him. The half-moon threw off enough light for Gaaron
to make out her face, more sad than angry, full of indecision and woe. After a few moments, she, too, came up to the tents staked before the fire, but then she hesitated. She paused before the one that Dathan had gone into, then she turned away and took a few steps toward the second tent. Then stopped, pivoted, and stood there, looking helpless and depressed.

Gaaron sat up on his pallet, shaking his wings out behind him. “Oh!” the Edori said, her eyes wide with surprise. She had been gone during the discussion of Gaaron's sleeping choices. She had no reason to know where he was lying now. “I didn't see—”

He put a finger to his lips and she fell silent. Two tents full of wakeful Edori not five yards away; they could not talk here. He came to his feet and gestured for her to follow him, away from the circle of fire. She hesitated a moment, then shrugged. He thought he could almost read her mind. She had no reason to return to either tent tonight; she may as well take a walk with a visiting angel.

They moved silently away from the camp, Susannah matching him stride for stride. She must spend most of her life walking, as the Edori moved their camp every day or so. She was probably in even better physical condition than he was. At any rate, Gaaron admired her free gait, her sureness of foot, even in the dark on the open land. She seemed like a very capable woman.

He decided not to lead with a comment on the scene he had just witnessed. Instead, he said, with a smile in his voice, “You're wrong about the Eyrie, you know. It's not cold and unfriendly. The Velo Mountains, where it is built, are made of a peculiar sort of reddish-tan stone. When the gaslight is on, the stone seems to glow, almost like low candlelight. It is a very warm and welcoming place.”

“Yes, I'm sure it is,” she said, her voice a little tight. She was still thinking about her argument with her lover, and not about Gaaron's words. “And you said—there is music there?”

“All day, all night,” he replied. “Groups of people sing in a small open room so that the Eyrie is never without harmony. It is quite beautiful, actually. But there is more. When
the Eyrie was built—when all the holds were built—the original settlers installed these incredible rooms. They're acoustically perfect music rooms, and they include these—machines—that play songs recorded by the early settlers. Hagar, the first angelica. Uriel, the first Archangel. Other angels of the time. It's the most glorious music I've ever heard. And anyone can listen to it.”

She was intrigued by that; anyone who loved music would be. “Machines? That can play music? I never heard of such a thing.”

“I don't believe such things exist anywhere except the angel holds. I should have mentioned those to Keren when I was listing the amenities of the Eyrie.”

Susannah actually laughed at that. “She's vain and shallow, but she's a good-hearted girl. She is so young and pretty—who could not like her?”

“I have a sister who is young and pretty and difficult, but I love her very much,” Gaaron said. “You do not have to defend Keren to me.”

“Still, I admit she can be difficult. And Tirza wants to strangle her half of the time.”

“Now, who's Tirza? I know I met each one of your friends, but I'm sorry, there were too many names and faces—”

She laughed again. “Tirza is the lover of Eleazar, who is Keren's brother. Keren and Eleazar also have a sister named Anna, who sleeps with us. And Tirza is sister to Dathan, who is . . .” She fell silent.

“Who is your lover,” Gaaron said gently.

She looked off in the distance, though her pace did not slow down. “Who has been my lover till now,” she said in a constricted voice.

“Something I don't understand,” Gaaron said. “You all talk of ‘lovers.' Does no one marry among the Edori?”

“No,” Susannah said briefly.

He was amazed. “No? Never? But then how do you—I suppose there is no property to pass on, but—even among the angels, where there is a great deal of freedom between men and women, there is still marriage. It just seems strange to me,” he ended up lamely.