Angelica (20 page)

“Describe it to me,” he said grimly, but he only nodded when she gave him the bleak details. “It sounds like the same site Solomon mentioned to me,” he said. “But how can that
be
? What can cause such destruction?”

“And why?” Susannah asked. “I do not like to think it, but it sounds as if—as if a person—someone—had acquired the power to destroy other people. To destroy campsites and buildings this way—so precisely—it is not a random, unthinking act.”

“It is not as if a lightning bolt came down and torched the earth,” Gaaron said. “I know. I thought of that.”

“Although . . .” Susannah let her words trail off as her mind started racing. “Although, angels
can
call lightning bolts, can they not? Or so I have always been told.”

He looked at her sharply. “You think an
angel
did these things?”

“I was just—”

“No angel in the three holds would think to cause such destruction! Most angels never in their
lives
call down a
thunderbolt, not for any reason! We know the prayers, yes, we are taught them, but these are not prayers we offer to the god! Don't say such things!”

“I did not mean to make you angry,” she said quietly. “I just wondered if—if the type of destruction we saw is the kind of destruction that can be caused by a lightning strike from Yovah's hand.”

He played with his cereal, now starting to grow cold. “I don't know,” he admitted at last. “
I've
never called down a thunderbolt. I don't know if it burns cleanly or if it slices right down to the exact inch of ground you wish it to strike. I have always assumed it was a power not to be toyed with—that it might not be so precise as you might like and that you would have to be desperate to chance it.”

“Maybe someone was that desperate.”

Anger flashed in his eyes again. “I told you that no angel—”

“Perhaps it wasn't an angel,” she said.

“Then who?”

She shrugged. “Angels are not the only ones who can pray to the god,” she said. “The Edori lift their voices to Yovah every day, and he hears us and answers us. Perhaps some other mortal has learned these prayers that call down thunderbolts.”

“Impossible,” Gaaron said flatly.

“And why?”

“Because an angel would have to teach him those prayers! He could not learn them on his own!”

“I am learning masses sung by angels long dead, on machines that I did not even know existed,” Susannah said. “Perhaps such machines exist elsewhere, in places you do not know of, and they contain more songs. More prayers. You don't know this isn't true.”

“I don't know it,” he admitted. “But it's a fanciful theory.”

She gave him a small smile. “And your theory is—?”

“I don't have one,” he said. “I can't even credit what is happening.”

“There was another story,” she said. “Nicholas told me. About a disappearing man.”

Gaaron took another bite of his cereal and swallowed before speaking again. “An even harder one to believe! At least the circles of fire I saw with my own eyes.”

“Has anyone else seen something like that? Did the Archangel say?”

“I did ask her. She hadn't heard it. Again, I'll ask Neri. Though a man would have to be very sure of himself to start telling such a tale. Most people would rather believe they'd been dreaming than that they really saw a man disappear.”

“I think you should call down a thunderbolt,” she said.

He gave her a quick look. “Just to see how it burns?” She nodded, but he shook his head. “A dangerous tactic. I would rather have Mahalah ask the god for information.”

Susannah shrugged and addressed herself more attentively to her food. The meat was wonderful, better than anything she'd been served at the formal meals while Gaaron was gone. Like everyone else in the hold, Esther revered Gaaron; she would reserve any special treats for his return.

“So that is the tale of my last week,” Gaaron said, trying to make his voice sound conversational. It still sounded strained. “How have you amused yourself since I've been gone?”

Susannah glanced up at him, a little smile on her mouth. “Surely you've heard that tale by now.”

He smiled reluctantly in return. “You are said to have made friends with the all the youngest and wildest angels of my hold. As well as my sister, the youngest and wildest of all.”

“She is a challenge,” Susannah admitted. “But I love her already. I don't see how anyone can help it.”

Gaaron lifted a glass of juice but did not sip from it, just sat there looking distracted. “I don't know what to do with her,” he said. “She is, as you say, easy to love—but I fear for her, I fear where her inner devils will lead her. I don't think there is anything she would not try, just to try it—anything, no matter how bad it is. Just to see.”

“If that is really true,” Susannah said, “I don't know that you'll be able to stop her.”

“I could lock her up in the Eyrie,” he said. “Put out an
interdiction that no angel can carry her off the mountaintop. That would curb some of her wildness.”

“I don't think so,” Susannah said, alarmed. “She would find a way down if she had to crawl through the rocks till her hands and feet were bloody. Even if the angels heeded your embargo—”

“They would,” he said stiffly.

“She would elude you. And she'd hate you for it.”

He ticked off experiences on his fingertips. “I've tried sending her to Adriel. Disastrous. I've tried sending her to the Manadavvi. She and some pampered heiress ran away—
disappeared
—for three weeks, and the Manadavvi girl has never been quite right since then. I've tried sending her to one of the river merchants in Castelana. She stole a valuable shipment—she swears she didn't, but I know she did—and caused an actual
duel
between two merchant partners, who are now sworn enemies. I have thought of sending her to Solomon—in Breven, you know—the Jansai know how to tame the spirit of the most rebellious woman.”

“I think Miriam would lead a rebellion among the Jansai women instead,” Susannah said. “Which, come to think of it, would not be so bad. Let's do that! Tell her why, and she'll go happily.”

Gaaron smiled reluctantly. “And then she would be on the loose again. No, it does not seem like a permanent solution.”

“I don't think you're going to be able to solve her,” Susannah said softly. “I think Miriam is—Miriam is going to have to figure out who she is and who she wants to be. It is very hard to live up to a brother like you. She has to be a little outrageous to get any attention at all.”

He grunted—an expression of surprise or acknowledgment, she could not tell—and finally sipped from his juice. “So! Aside from watching over Miriam, how have you spent your time while I've been gone?”

“By getting to know your young and wild angels, of course,” she said immediately. “I know what you are thinking—these do not seem like the kinds of friends Susannah would make—”

Suddenly his eyes focused on hers, dark and intense. “I don't know you well enough to make that assessment,” he
said slowly. “You seem earnest and well-reasoned. You have been very calm in all your dealings with me. But somehow—I am not convinced that is who you are. You are like a Jansai woman—you wear a lot of veils and hide your true self.”

Susannah smiled a little wryly at that. “There have been times in my life I have been so sober you would not have recognized my face with a smile on it. I am at heart a serious woman. But I am drawn to wildness, I will admit. Miriam—Keren—others in my life—” She faltered, but she would not name Dathan, she
would not
. “I am happiest when I am surrounded by that energy and that joy. It lifts me up. Without it, I sometimes find life—a little dreary. But I am not so unpredictable myself.”

“There is not an ounce of wildness in me,” Gaaron said. “I am the most practical of men.”

“I know,” Susannah said quietly.

There was a little silence.

“That does not mean,” he said, “that we cannot forge a strong alliance between us. I find—I have an inclination to trust you. Your judgment is sound. I like to hear what you say in response to what I say. I realize that is not a—not an exciting relationship. I have not been accused by many women of being exciting.”

She desperately wanted to ask him if he'd ever been in love, but she was too embarrassed. She would ask Miriam later, or the indiscreet Chloe. “I did not come here for excitement, as Keren would have,” she said in a low voice.

“No, you came because your heart was breaking,” he said unexpectedly. “I understand that. And I understand—perhaps I should explain—” He broke off, embarrassed himself. “If you find a search for excitement takes you elsewhere, among other men—angels do not find this—angels often sample the attractions of many,” he ended in a rush. Then he became all formal again. “I do not know what conventions of fidelity govern the behavior of the Edori, but among angels no such conventions apply.”

She had already been depressed by his earlier speech about forging an alliance. Now she thought her lungs would close up from a disinclination to breathe. “For the most part, Edori are faithful to each other as long as they love each
other,” she said quietly. “How much a brief infidelity matters to an Edori varies with the individual. I have never been the type of woman to love more than one man at a time.” She made a helpless gesture. “But then, I have only really loved one man.”

“And may not ever love again,” he said. “Yes. But we can be friends, you and I, don't you think? Allies?”

Drearier and drearier, but what had she expected? She made herself look him straight in the eye. “Yes. Most excellent allies,” she said firmly.

He held his hand out across the table and she laid hers in it. His hand was huge; it engulfed hers. He closed his fingers over hers with just enough pressure to make her think he could break every bone in her body without even meaning to. Edori men were strong, used to physical exercise and hard labor, but this man's strength was so implicit in every joint and muscle that it was almost frightening.

“I'm glad you're here, Susannah,” he said.

She could not bring herself to say the reciprocal sentiments out loud. “Thank you,” she replied.

It was a relief when the meal was finally over and she could escape to her room. Not knowing what she intended until she shut the door behind her, she leaned her head against the wall and started sobbing.

G
aaron had been shocked at the look on Adriel's face when he told her of the devastated campsite. A handsome woman in her mid-fifties, Adriel had always seemed to Gaaron the embodiment of reason and calm. He had greatly admired her when, as a teenager, he was sent to live with her for five years; she had been his model far more than his angry father or his timid mother had been. Then, of course, she had been in her prime, a strongly built, no-nonsense woman whose physical endurance was legendary. She could sing for hours, praying away rain or drought or plague, and never evince a moment's weariness. She was not the sympathetic, comforting sort, but everyone in the hold brought her their problems and told her their dreams, and trusted her completely to take care of them.

Gaaron had wanted to be that kind of leader. But he hoped he was never so shaken and at a loss as Adriel looked when he told her about the burned camp.

“Another one,” she said, and told him her own tale of a ruined farm. As she spoke, she leaned her head against her hand. The black hair was graying already. The full, confident features looked thinner, as the features of a statue might look worn by the constant assault of time and weather. “Then, if
there are two, there will be more. It cannot be accidental.”

“There are three,” he said, and he repeated Solomon's story. “But what can it be?”

She looked over at him and shook her head. “I have no idea.”

The story of the disappearing man she found easier to dismiss, possibly because Gaaron did as well. So easy to write that off to too much wine or the power of imagination.

“But keep me apprised,” she said. “Of any odd happenings that you observe. Perhaps if we see a pattern emerging . . .”

She shrugged and did not finish the sentence.
We can take care of it
or
We can ask for the god's help
or
We will know what to do
. She did not say any of those things. Clearly she could not think of what she, what any of the angels, might do to solve a problem so out of their experience.

For the first time, Gaaron realized that when he became Archangel, in less than a year's time, all these burdens would be his and his alone. Not even Adriel would be able to help him. Adriel was exhausted from her own twenty years of trouble.

Pray god Jovah had chosen wisely for him, then, when he named Susannah as his angelica, for he would need someone with whom he could confer and from whom he could solicit advice.

As if she had read his mind, Adriel changed the subject. “So I hear you have found your bride,” she said, straightening in her chair and essaying a smile. “An Edori, no less. An unusual choice, but who can tell the mind of Jovah? What is she like?”

“I have only spent a few days with her,” Gaaron said ruefully. “She seems—she seems to be a reasonable woman. Not given to emotional outbursts, at least so far. I think maybe she misses her Edori family. I hope she'll make friends at the Eyrie.”

Adriel smiled more freely. “Reasonable and unemotional! What very dull words to use to describe the woman you will marry.”

He smiled back. “They sound soothing to me. Someone passionate and unmanageable—like my sister—would be
impossible to deal with. I will take placid and cool any day.”

“I could kill your father,” were Adriel's next unexpected words, but Gaaron could read the story behind the statement well enough. Adriel blamed Michael for every one of Miriam's misdeeds and now, apparently, for Gaaron's own stoicism.

“He is already dead,” Gaaron said. “No need.”

“He has much to answer for.”

“Perhaps, but Jovah is the one who will review that with him,” Gaaron said, rising to his feet. “I must go. It has been good to see you, Adriel. I would say that I look forward to seeing you again soon, except that I'm afraid such a meeting would mean more bad news from one of us at least.”

“Perhaps not,” she said. “Perhaps we will next come together to celebrate your wedding, and that will be a happy time. When is the event to occur?”

He looked at her blankly. “I don't know. We haven't discussed it. I suppose Susannah will have some thoughts on that.”

Adriel drew his head down so she could kiss him on the cheek. “Yes, your calm, unemotional bride will probably have more thoughts on that topic than you would suspect.”

He had left and set off, leaving Windy Point behind. It was situated in a high, lonely peak just north of the Caitanas, in the most inhospitable stretch of land in all of Samaria. Its sole geographical advantage was its nearness to the Plain of Sharon, the broad, open land where the people of Samaria gathered every year to sing the Gloria. But that was not enough of an advantage, Gaaron thought, to make cold, gray, inaccessible Windy Point an inviting place. Give him the Eyrie any day, with its warm walls and its constant music and its happy placement in the middle of Bethel.

It took him nearly two days to get back to his hold, during which time his last conversation with Adriel played through his mind more than once. Mahalah, too, had as good as accused him of insensitivity to the charms of women, but he supposed he could not help that. A man either responded to flighty, melodramatic, and flirtatious women, or he did not. He had to admit, he had had grave doubts about Susannah back there when they were at the Edori campsite, for every
time he saw her, she was arguing with her lover. But she had been so quiet since he brought her to the Eyrie, so attentive when she listened to him, so thoughtful when she spoke. It seemed the god had indeed set out to find just the right match for the Archangel-to-be.

So it was something of a jolt to arrive at the Eyrie late one night and be told his chosen bride was not home, had not been all day, was probably still down in Velora carousing with the most high-spirited and aimless of the souls under Gaaron's care.

“Not a finger's width of difference between them, Chloe and Miriam and Susannah and that whole lot,” Esther had said with a certain malicious zest. “And her seeming so quiet when she got here.”

It had been with some misgiving that he had invited Susannah to join him the following morning, hoping she would not, after a few short days, appear debauched and reckless. But she had not. She had come into his chambers with an inquiring look on her face and the same pleasant demeanor he remembered, and he had been happy to see her. Not plunged into ecstasy, as a romantic new bridegroom might be, but pleased. He liked the strict, sober lines of her face, its dark complexion both exotic and restful; he liked the long black hair that she wore simply styled. It was so dark and so fine that, now and then, he found himself wanting to touch it, just to feel its shine against his fingers, as if a shine could actually have texture.

And he liked the way she talked about Miriam, as if she already cared about the impossible girl. And he liked how she listened to him, and he thought their chances of making a pretty acceptable match of it were better than good.

He had never really expected more than that from his angelica. It was, in some ways, a relief to get so much.

Having been gone more than a week, Gaaron found that there was much at the hold that needed his attention. First, of course, there were the petitioners who had waited for him all this time, taking hotel rooms in Velora until he got back, and exhibiting an inexorable patience because no one else's counsel or mediation was good enough for them. One of these
was a merchant who claimed that Gaaron's sister had stolen three of his bracelets and demanded reparation. Gaaron paid it without even arguing.

Then, of course, there was the inevitable session with Miriam, who merely laughed when accused of her crime. “He
saw
me take those? I can't believe it. Susannah didn't see me, and she's been hovering over me like a bird of prey. I did it more to see if I could trick her than because I wanted the stupid bracelets.”

“Then perhaps you'd like to return them to their rightful owner.”

“I thought you said you already paid for them? Then why can't I just keep them?”

“I have a better idea,” Gaaron said. “You will give them as gifts. To three people you may have insulted in the past few days.”

She frowned mutinously. “What makes you think I—”

“Esther,” he said, because it was a certainty that
something
she'd done in the past week had offended that prickly old soul. “Enoch.” Esther's husband, a prissy and grouchy old angel, who had even less love for Miriam than Esther did. “And Susannah.”

“Susannah! I haven't done anything to hurt her feelings. I adore her.”

“You stole something to outwit her. I think that will make her feel bad when she finds out.”

Miriam eyed him with disfavor. “And who will tell her that?”

“You will, when you give her the bracelet.”

She argued a little more, but eventually gave in, and Gaaron was there at dinner that night when his sister presented the gift to his betrothed. He was watching Susannah's face when the little scene played itself out, wondering if this fresh evidence of Miriam's waywardness would turn Susannah against the girl. But it did not seem to. Susannah listened seriously to Miriam's quick, laughing tale, nodded, thanked her for the bracelet, and slipped it on her wrist. She said nothing more about it, and Miriam seemed a bit deflated, having no doubt primed herself with a lot of excuses to turn aside Susannah's wrath or sorrow. But when Miriam left
their table to go lounge beside Chloe for a while, Gaaron saw Susannah watch her saunter away. The look on the Edori's face intrigued him. She was frowning, as if she was trying to solve a puzzle, but she did not look as though she despaired of figuring it out.

In addition to Miriam, there were other youthful troublemakers at the Eyrie who had considered Gaaron's absence a chance to behave badly. Zack, Jude, and their companions had disrupted the hourly harmonics one afternoon by coming through and yodeling completely dissonant and off-key music at the top of their lungs. They had stolen all the chairs from the dining room one night before dinner (though they were easily retrieved from the storerooms), and they had gotten drunk on the wine reserved for sacred ceremonies. All of these problems had been dealt with by Esther and Enoch, but Gaaron made sure to talk to the boys individually in the sternest voice he could muster, and he had the satisfaction of seeing Jude, at least, look a little scared.

Zack, of course, was impossible to overawe, but he did look a little apprehensive at Gaaron's threat. “If I don't see better behavior from you soon, I'll have to send you away,” Gaaron said.

Zack sneered. “Send me where? To Velora? All my friends come there every day.”

“Actually, I was thinking more like Breven,” Gaaron said. The idea was borne of his conversation with Susannah. He could not
really
send Miriam to Solomon, but why not Zack? Or why not pretend he might send Zack? “The Jansai were just telling me they wish Windy Point was closer so that they could have easier access to an angel intercessor. Seems it was even drier than usual over Breven this summer, and they were hoping someone could be on hand fairly often to pray for rain.”

Now Zack looked slightly alarmed. “I can't go to Breven! I can't sing prayers to Jovah!”

Gaaron arched his brows. “You can't? I thought you were studying your masses along with all the other boys your age.”

“Yes, but—I haven't—not on my own I couldn't—and Ahio or Nicholas always sings with me.”

“I'm sure you could perform the prayers,” Gaaron said.
“I'll come listen to you tomorrow to check on your progress.”

“But I don't want to go to Breven!” Zack burst out.

Gaaron examined him with a look of interest on his face. “You don't? Well, you don't behave as if you want to live here.”

There was a short silence. “Well, I do,” Zack said sullenly.

“And why would that be?”

Zack hunched a shoulder. “All my friends are here. And—and I can do stuff.”

“Get drunk and steal the chairs. I don't think I want you to ‘do' that sort of stuff.”

Zack flushed. “That's not what I meant. If I go to Breven, I won't be able to play the flute anymore. Who would teach me? I don't want to go.”

Gaaron hid his surprise at this artless revelation. “Well, I'll think about it,” was all he said. “But if you keep acting the way you have been—” He shrugged, and his wings lifted and fell behind him. “I'll have to do something with you. And you might not like what I choose.”

Naturally, as soon as this conversation was over, Gaaron had to hunt up Ahio and find out if Zack really was coming to the older angel for flute lessons, and how those lessons were going. Ahio, whom he tracked down in one of the music rooms listening to a mass that Gaaron would have thought he would have long ago had by heart, nodded in his usual careless way when asked about Zack's progress.

“Good at it. A natural,” Ahio said. “I never did think his voice was much above average, but he's got a feel for the wind instruments. I've tried him on the clarinet, too. I think you'll like what you hear.”